Note from MNL: Sorry for the delay in publishing this for you guys on FFN, I was dealing with my own stories and really hadn't been thinking too much about this one after it was published.

Of Reconcile and Resolution

By bunnyscribe on AO3

A hush falls over class 1-A in the wake of the fight between Mob and Kacchan. Nobody seems to know what to say, even as the crowd around them erupts into applause, even as the two unconscious boys are loaded onto stretchers and are carried away.

Izuku sits on the edge of his seat, eyes following Mob as he carted off. He looks fine from this distance, uninjured, like he had just laid down for a nap. He looks small.

Something heavy sits in Izuku's stomach.

He can still see the upset that had lined Mob's posture as he had walked onto the stage, a tension that Izuku had a part in causing. His fingers twitch, a phantom sting of being broken still lingering even after being healed.

Izuku feels, well, not good.

There's still a giant bucket of emotions sloshing around inside of him, spinning around frustration, regret, and hurt. A lot more hurt than anything else if he's honest.

He is mad at himself for upsetting Mob in the heat of the moment, he really is. But at the same time, Mob just wasn't getting it. Mob has everything Izuku has ever wanted, has everything that Izuku had worked so hard to get, and it simply naturally clicked into place for him.

The whole situation is just really dumb, he thinks, chewing on the end of his pen. He can figure it out though. He just needs to convey what he means properly next time, apologize for being rude, and then everything can just go back to normal between him and Mob.

Right, that's right. He straightens up, struck with a new found resolve. It's fine, he and Mob are friends and all friends have disagreements. He and Kacchan had disagreements all the time, and they were...well, not really friends anymore. But it's fine.

It's fine.

Izuku startles when a long finger suddenly taps his shoulder. He spins around and squeals when he comes nose to nose with Tsuyu. She croaks at him.

"Tsuyu!" he gasps, bringing a hand up to his rapidly beating heart. "What's…" he gulps. "What's up?"

"Did you and Kageyama have a fight?" she asks bluntly.

Izuku goes cold, suddenly unable to look Tsuyu in the eye anymore. "What?" His voice is way too high pitched, way too suspicious. "Why would you ask that?"

In the corner of his eye, he sees Uraraka turn around to throw a confused look at Tsuyu. "Yeah," she says. "Midoriya and Mob would never fight! What would they even have to fight about?"

Tsuyu leans back in her seat again, bringing a finger up to her mouth. "Kageyama was upset after your fight with Yaoyorozu. He left really quickly."

"I just assumed he was eager to give Midoriya his congratulations," Iida says from next to Uraraka. He looks pensive now, his hand coming up to his chin. "He did express some concern before the fight began, but he seemed pretty calm throughout it."

"Nah, Mob was nervous during that whole thing," Sero says, draping himself over Uraraka's chair. "You didn't notice? He was pissed when he left."

Uraraka's eyes narrow, slowly looking over at Izuku. He starts to sweat under perspective stare, feeling as though she's trying to pull answers out of him with her eyes alone. She glances down at his previously broken finger and tenses.

Izuku pulls the hand towards him instinctively. "It's fine," he says in a rush. "It's nothing."

"Oh, Deku," Uraraka breaths. "What did you do?"

All of his friends are staring at him now, their gazes weighing heavily on him like a bag of bricks. His stomach clenches and he curls into himself. "It's nothing," he repeats.

Sero tilts his head at him, face pinching in confusion. "Doesn't really seem like nothing, dude."

Uraraka's hand lands on his arm and Izuku jolts. Her eyes are gentle and somehow that makes the whole situation worse. "Deku, it's gonna be ok," she says. "We just want to know what happened so we can help."

Izuku opens his mouth and snaps it closed, eyes going wide as he spots Kacchan stomping up the stairs over Uraraka's shoulder. They make eye contact and Izuku feels a rush of irrational anger that sweeps over him that he stamps out immediately.

Get a clue.

There's no use in blaming Kacchan for something he decided to say of his own volition, that's just ridiculous. He upset Mob and that's his fault, blaming Kacchan doesn't solve anything.

His stomach only gets tighter when he realizes that Kacchan is making a beeline towards him, his shoulders hunched and jaw set.

Uraraka follows his line of sight, face hardening when she finds Kacchan. "Why is he coming over here?" she says under her breath.

Kacchan pushes his way through the row in front of Izuku, ignoring the protest of their classmates whose knees he jostles in the process. He comes to a stop in front of Izuku, and he notes that he doesn't look that bad off, just a band-aid stuck to his temple.

"Deku."

Izuku gulps. "Yeah?"

Kacchan shifts the weight between his feet, hands moving into his pockets. Izuku is surprised to find him not meeting his eyes, staring out into the distance somewhere above them. "Bowl for Brains," he says, and then nothing else.

"Bakugou," Uraraka says, legs tense like she's preparing to spring up at any moment. "What do you want?"

Kacchan's head snaps down so fast that Izuku wouldn't be shocked if he hurt his neck, his gaze landing sharply on Uraraka. "Stay out of this," he growls. It seems her interruption is enough to force Kacchan back on track because he turns to Izuku. "You. You pissed off that Bowl for Brains."

Izuku blinks. "I-I didn't-um-I didn't do anyth-"

Kacchan lifts up his foot and stomps it on the chair in front of him. Izuku goes cross-eyed to stare at his knee, squeaking.

"You know what you did," Kacchan sneers. "And to be honest, I couldn't give a damn what it was, but you cost me my win."

"Kacchan…" Izuku says hesitantly. "Mob…" He thinks of Mob in those seconds before he passed out, hidden underneath that shimmering barrier, barely visible. He thinks of Kacchan's body slumped against the concrete wall, the imprint of where he hit left on it.

"Mob beat you fair and square," he says, voice distant to his own ears.

Kacchan bares his teeth, "Like hell he did!" He pushes against the chair with his foot and it creaks underneath the weight. "A win like that...it isn't worth anything! Even if the world at large wants to say that idiot was the winner, if I don't recognize it then it's just nothing more than a fraud!"

Uraraka actually does jump up then, matching Bakugou's energy immediately. "What are you even talking about?!" she yells, swinging her arms above her. "Mob won! He beat you! What part of that can't you understand?"

"I said I can't accept that loss! What part of this aren't you getting?!" Kacchan's snarls. Then he huffs, bringing his foot back down, and seems to compose himself at least a little bit.

"Bowl for Brains Bastard was still hiding like the coward he is," he says after a moment. "He could've just tried tossing me out of that ring the second he got a chance, but instead he pushed me out with that damn bubble. He was still holding back, even after all that shit he said out there."

Uraraka deflates, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What did he say?"

Kacchan looks at her and glances away just as quickly, clicking his tongue. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything." He starts to move away. "Just let him know that next time, he better get his shit together before he fights me." He throws a glare at Izuku over his shoulder. "I won't lose again."

Izuku's breath stutters in his throat, a little too panicky to be able to inhale properly. He feels cold as he watches Kacchan stomp over to the other side of their seating area.

"Deku," Uraraka says, looking at him in concern. Her hands hover next to him, as though she's afraid to touch. "You need to calm down and explain what happened. We can't help if we don't know."

"I-I-I," he says, mouth clumsily trying to form any words he can think of. He tries to think about how he would even start to explain this whole situation, but all he can think about is what Mob might've said to Kacchan. Tears are starting to collect in the corners of his eyes.

A hand grabs at his shoulder, a grounding weight that he immediately latches onto. "Let's leave Midoriya alone for a bit," Tsuyu says from behind him. Her voice is flat but he suddenly has no energy to turn around and try to interpret her expression. "Look, the next fight is starting now."

Izuku steadies the journal on his lap more out of habit rather than anything else. He doesn't have the motivation to write anything down, but he gets the same kind of tunnel vision that he always does when it comes to anything quirk related. It's comforting in a way, to be able to completely tune out his friends and their concern and focus on something a little less meaningful in comparison.

Kirishima and Ashido stand across from each other on the ring. Ashido looks as casual as she did during her fight with Sero, hopping around from foot to foot, stretching her arms, a huge smile spread across her face.

Kirishima seems to be trying to match her, but there's something stiffer in how he carries himself, his smile tight. He looks determined in a way, but Izuku can't help but think there might be something more to it.

"Is everybody reaaadyyy?" Present Mic shouts over the speakers. The audience cheers in response, and Present Mic laughs. "Alright then! Let's get this started then! Ready...Set...Begin!"

Ashido's darting across the stage the second the match starts, acid visibly forming on her right palm. She reels her hand back and then swings it forward, aiming directly for Kirishima's face.

Kirishima immediately brings his arms up into a block, hardening them. The acid does nothing more than create a shiny coat against the rough skin.

He steps to the side, attempting to get behind Ashido, but she spins around faster by creating a puddle of acid under her feet.

They continue to dance around each other for several minutes in this way. Ashido aims for the weak parts in Kirishima's defenses, forcing him to harden them, and then ducks out of the way before he can hit her.

"What are they doing?" Uraraka asks after a while. "Why doesn't Ashido just try to slide him out of the ring like she did with Sero?"

Izuku taps his pen rhythmically on his notebook, biting his lip. He had been wondering the same thing honestly. "She's not as good at up close combat as Kirishima is," he says slowly, puzzling it together as he goes. "So, she's trying to wear him down?"

"Yeah, that's probably about right," Sero says. "We were all the same team during the cavalry fight, so Kirishima told us he can't keep his harden going on forever."

"So she's taking advantage of the knowledge she gained as his teammate…" Iida says, bringing a hand up to his mouth and leaning back in his seat. "Not the noblest of strategies perhaps, but effective I suppose."

Izuku flips to Ashido's page in his notebook, glancing between what he has written and the fight. "She's going to have to finish it soon though. She's got limits on what she can do too, look at her hands."

Out on the ring, Ashido lands another hit against Kirishima's shoulder and it glows a bright red with the sting of the acid. Kirishima takes in a sharp breath and the next punch he throws at her is a little more clumsy.

Ashido slides backward, breathing heavy. Her normally light pink palms are turning a cherry red, the corrosive acid starting to take its toll.

She launches back at Kirishima, hand pressing against his stomach, and this time Kirishima's hardening doesn't activate.

He gasps, stumbling backward as his shirt dissipates and leaves a shiny handprint pressed into his skin.

Ashido takes complete advantage of his shock, reaching out and pushing him over so he lands on his butt. He skids around on acid left on the ground from Ashido's dodging, sliding neatly out of the ring.

"Ah!" Izuku exclaims, jolting in his seat. He flips his pen around, quickly creating another bullet point on Ashido's page. "I see, she was setting that up the whole time by dodging with the acid underneath her feet! That's such a cool strategy, I wouldn't have even thought to use her quirk to create traps like that. Obviously, that brings up a whole bunch of questions, though it really depends on how much acid she can create at one time since it seems to actually affect her after a while…"

He trails off when he feels eyes on him, looking around to find all of his friends' eyes on him. He goes red, face feeling like he had just been burned with acid himself. "Oh-Oh, sorry," he says, "I didn't-I didn't mean to go on that long."

Uraraka's face scrunches up. She opens her mouth to say something to him-

"It's fine," Tsuyu says. "That's just part of what makes you Midoriya." She turns towards Iida, tilting her head. "You're up next, aren't you?"

Iida hesitates before nodding his head up and down in quick snapping motions. "Yes, that would be correct," he says, throat working around the words.

He goes still for a moment, looking out pensively at the field, then suddenly rockets up to his feet, body tense. His glasses seem to glitter as he tilts his head toward the sun, bright enough that Izuku can't see his eyes. "I suppose I should probably go to prepare then!"

Izuku blinks at him. "Is," he says, "Is everything ok Iida?"

Iida huffs and then almost immediately deflates, shoulders sagging. "I suppose...I suppose I'm just a bit nervous," he says earnestly, eyes darting away from Izuku. He wrings his hands together. "Kendou has already proven herself to be a very worthy adversary and I worry how my fight with her will go. I would like to win, in order to make everyone who's helped me get this far proud."

"Do you know if your brother's watching?" Uraraka asks.

Iida nods jerkily. "I called him earlier, however, he's busy with work." He purses his lips. "It's probably better that way."

"Dude, you look so stressed," Sero says, huffing. "Relax. You're gonna win this so hard, it's gonna knock your brother right off of his feet."

Iida gives him a small, tense smile. "You're right. I should have more confidence in myself, or I will just go into the fight already prepared to lose." He takes a deep breath, in and out through his nose, shoulders visibly relaxing. "I will see you all when this is over then?"

"Of course, Iida," Izuku says, shooting him his own shaky smile. "Good luck out there."

The rest of their group chimes in with their well wishes, and then Iida is gone, disappearing into one of the corridors.

"Oh, I hope he wins this," Uraraka says softly, bring a hand up to her mouth. "He'll be so sad if he doesn't."

Izuku bites his lip, looking out at the ring. He can understand how Iida feels, that pressure of making someone you look up to proud of you. He's trying to do the same thing with All Might, trying to uphold his promise to him to show the world that Izuku had arrived.

Yeah, a traitorous part of his mind says, but you couldn't even keep a simple promise to Mob to not hurt yourself. What makes you think you're gonna be able to keep one that's even more important?

He shakes his head to clear out the thought. It does no good to think like that right now. He broke his promise to Mob in order to keep his one to All Might, right? Mob will understand that once they can actually talk about it.

He looks at the exit that Iida walked into, half expecting Mob to come out of it at any second.

Uraraka follows his line of sight and sighs. She pats his arm, "Mob'll be back soon, I'm sure. He probably wants to talk to you just as bad as you want to talk to him, don't worry."

The words have the opposite effect of what they intended, as Izuku is suddenly forced to consider the possibility that Mob won't even want to talk to him. "I-" He can feel himself start to fidget. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

Uraraka frowns at him.

"Kageyama is a patient person," Tsuyu says. "He can deal with Bakugou fine, so he can definitely deal with Midoriya."

Sero snorts. "Can anyone actually deal with Bakugou?" he asks. "I mean, like in all seriousness, have you seen the dude?"

Tsuyu croaks, tilting her head. "He's not so bad I don't think. Though I don't like how he treats Midoriya."

"Yeah! I mean he's just so mean to him!" Uraraka agrees. She puts her hands against her head and using her index fingers to mimic devil horns and snarls in a way that imitates Bakugou. "He's a real monster!"

Izuku lets out a surprised laugh. "He's not that bad!" he says automatically. "You know...he's a jerk but, he's...he's really good at what he does." He thinks about Bakugou pressed against Mob's barrier, how his fist pounded cracks into it. "I just wish...I wish…" He pauses.

"I don't know," he says after a moment, eyes moving down to his notebook without really taking anything in. "Sorry, ignore me."

Uraraka's concerned face hovers in the corner of his vision. "Deku..."

"Oh shoot, guys, look," Sero says, pointing out towards the ring. "Iida's on."

Iida and Kendou stand on opposing sides of the stage, both holding themselves with an equal level of stiff formality.

Kendou is smiling at least, something different than how she began her fight with Kaminari. She has an air of confidence around her still, but there's something leaner in the way she holds herself, something that tells Izuku that she's taking this fight more seriously.

Iida bows at her when Present Mic begins his introductions, upper body tilting in what appears to be a ninety-degree angle. Kendou looks surprised but pleased by that, and she curtsies in return. Izuku leans forward in his seat, Kacchan momentarily forgotten.

"Let the battle begin!" Present Mic screeches over the speakers, loud enough that his voice crackles. "Fight on!"

Iida moves forward with a burst of speed, engines glowing a hot red. Kendou side steps, lifting up a growing hand like a matador might lift a red cloth.

Iida slams into it in a blur, coming to a halt in an instant. The wind is immediately knocked out of him and he lands flat on his back, bouncing on the ground from the force of the hit.

Then Kendou reaches down, scoops him down with two giant fists, and chucks him out of the ring. The buzzer goes off.

And just like that is over.

Sero winces. "Oh, that wasn't good."

"Kendou's really good on her feet," Izuku says, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. "She figured he'd want to go the least violent route possible and so she knew what Iida was going to attempt even before the fight started. She read him like a book."

"Oh, poor Iida," Uraraka says, face scrunching up and empathy clear in her features. "That can't have felt good."

Izuku watches as Iida pushes himself onto his elbows, breathing visibly heavy. Kendou approaches him carefully, extending out a hand towards him and shooting him a small smile.

She says something to him, and Iida hesitates on a moment before nodding and accepting her help up.

Sero huffs and smacks his hand on the top on Izuku's head. "Alright!" he says. "Looks like you and Mob are the last one in our little friend group still in the running then, so one of you's has to win for us."

"Wait, what?" Izuku squawks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No no, Sero's right," Uraraka says, voice going grave. "You guys now have to bring home the gold for us." Her face stays firm only for another moment, eyes moving around his face, before she cracks into a bright grin. "Deku, I'm kidding! You don't have to look so serious!"

Izuku clenches his fist and relaxes them, eyes moving towards his lap where they sit. Underneath them the notebook rests on his legs, untouched during Iida and Kendou's fight, strategies scribbled into the margins in messy handwriting. On one of the pages is the notes for his next fight, containing all the information he could get on what he'd seen from Todoroki's quirk so far.

He's been looking at this from all different angles, especially since his and Mob's fight, and it all boils down to the plan he had thought up earlier. It's all he can think of, and that means he has to use it.

His disagreement with Mob can be fixed later, he can't worry about it now especially with the other boy still not back yet. He has to do this for himself, for Todoroki, for All Might, and for all of his friends. There's no other option here.

Mob had told Izuku that he wasn't trying to figure out another way to use his quirk without hurting himself, but he was wrong. Izuku was doing everything he could think to do right now, and Mob would see that later when he got it under control.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Right.

"Midoriya," Tsuyu says, "Was your and Kageyama's fight about your next match?"

Izuku spins around to face her, surprised. "Why-Why would you ask that?"

Tsuyu tilts her head. "You've got a bad look on your face," she says bluntly. "You look like my brother when he does something he's not supposed to. Besides," she looks down at his hands, "Kageyama was upset when you hurt yourself and I think that's what you're planning to do again."

Izuku feels his body starting to get warmer. "I have to do this," he says, voice sounding hollow even to himself. "I have to."

"Dude," Sero groans, running a hand over his face. "Are you actually telling me you fought with Mob over something that ridiculous?"

Izuku glares at him. "It's not ridiculous," he snaps, and then immediately regrets it. "I mean-"

"No, man, it totally is," Sero interrupts, holding up his index finger and looking at him sternly. "You made each other mad over our first sports festival?"

"You're not getting it either," Izuku says, that same frustration he felt before bubbling to the surface. "I have to do this to get where I want to go, this is my first step to becoming a hero." He thinks of All Might. "I have to-" he looks down at his hands, clenching them tightly into shaking fists. "I have to tell the world I'm here."

Sero scoffs. "Well, yeah, what do you think all the rest of us are trying to do?"

"It's not the same-"

"Yeah, no," Sero says. "I think it's exactly the same."

Izuku bristles at being interrupted again. "You don't understand."

Sero throws his hands out in a wide gesture, "No, Midoriya! I get it, we've all got something to prove here! You, me, Bakugou, Uraraka, hell, even Mob It's not just you and acting like it is? That's really self-centered dude."

Izuku gapes at him, stunned into silence.

Sero runs a hand through his hair. "Look," he says. "We've all got to do our best here, and if Mob's trying to hold you back from that, well, it's not cool of him. But that also doesn't mean he was entirely wrong to try either."

"He-" Izuku says, finding his voice again. "He's already into heroics work, but for me, this is-this is my only shot-"

"Midoriya, man," Sero says, shooting him a sharp look. "We've still got three years left. You don't have to save the world just yet, you know?"

Izuku spots Todoroki passing behind Sero on his way to the hallway. They meet eyes, Todoroki's cold and dead stare piercing through him. Izuku bolts up out of his seat.

"I-I have to go now," he says, feeling tears starting to collect in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Deku," Uraraka says, reaching out towards him, "please, Deku, wait-!"

Izuku pushes past her knees and rushes toward the exit, not looking back.

.-.-.

Izuku practically stomps down the hallway towards the stage, furiously rubbing the tear tracks off of his face.

He feels sick, like if he stops walking he might actually puke, but at the same time, he can feel himself dragging his feet towards the ring. Still, he's marching forward, he's putting one foot in front of the other because he has to.

Three years left.

Sero's words stick to him in the same way his tape might, and as much as he wants to discard them entirely, he finds that he can't. They do have time left, that's true, but Izuku also knows how quickly that time will pass. This might not be his last shot, per se, but it is his first shot and that's probably just as important.

Only three years left.

And his friends, they just-they didn't get it. They didn't understand how he got here.

They didn't know how hard he had to work under All Might to even earn a place at the starting line they were born on. And that's why he needs to prove himself here, or else what does it matter? And once he does that, once he shows he was worthy, all his friends will get it, won't they? Yeah, yeah they will, he knows they will.

He just needs to beat Todoroki and move on to the next round and that will show his friends what he means in a way that's better than words.

The thought of Todoroki slows him down, and he thinks back to their conversation in the hallway. In a way, Todoroki had to have worked hard to get here too right? He had been practically set up to be a hero, he had been made for it, and yet he still works in order to suppress an entire part of himself that might even be beneficial to him if used correctly.

It sounds sad when he thinks about it that way, but the narrative feels strangely familiar. Where has he-?

Endeavor rounds the corner in front of him. "Ah," he says, "It's you."

Izuku jolts, letting out a squeak. "End-?! Why are you here?"

One of Endeavor's hands rests on the corner, the other coming up to point at him. "I saw what you did out there. That's an amazing quirk you have boy."

"Well-um-thanks? I guess?"

"In terms of strength, it seems on par with All Might," Endeavor continues as though he hadn't even spoken.

Izuku feels the color slowly drain from his face. He averts his eyes from Endeavor's face, moving to quickly walk past him. "I-I'm sorry but- I don't really know what you're getting at. Sorry, I've-I've gotta go now."

"Listen," Endeavor turns his head towards Izuku's back, and he feels the change in temperature that comes from his flaming beard. "My boy, Shouto. His duty is to surpass All Might, and I think his match with you will prove to be a valuable stepping stone."

Izuku's breath hitches, he thinks of Todoroki in the hallway and his declaration to deny his father everything.

"Give it all you got," Endeavor says. "You not going down easy will prove he's worthy of being here, and perhaps be the motivator he needs to get over himself."

Izuku thinks over Aoyama, frozen in the huge wall of ice. He thinks of how the crowd cheered for him but not for Todoroki.

"Sorry for involving you in this," Endeavor says, "and I apologize for my bluntness."

"I'm-" Izuku clenches his fist tightly enough to feel his nails digging into his skin. "I'm not All Might."

Endeavor hums. "I never said you were."

"Right," Izuku says. "That's right. And that means Todoroki-" he turns and looks Endeavor right in the eyes, "-isn't you."

Endeavor's eyes widen and then narrow into a furious expression, lip jutting outward. The flames of his beard roll down his chest like angry waves, and there is a moment of tense silence where their crackling is all that fills the air.

Endeavor huffs. "Don't lose in a way that's shameful to Shoto," he says. "I'll be watching."

Then he turns around and disappears back the way he came.

Izuku doesn't move for a few moments after he's gone, heaving in air and making an attempt to get his breathing back to normal. His chest feels tight and he's going light-headed with a sudden onslaught of panic. Oh god, he had just told off Endeavor right to his face. He doesn't know how to deal with that.

The righteous part of him is pleased that he did it, and he thinks again of that dead look in Todoroki's eye as he covered up his scar with his hand, speaking of his mother. The least Endeavor deserved for making Todoroki look like that was some harsh words and Izuku could clearly deliver if his last conversation with Mob was any indicator.

He doesn't know how to deal with that thought either so he shoves it down, burying it underneath his anxiety.

He starts walking again.

He doesn't stop until he makes it to the ring, doesn't stop till he climbs up the stairs, doesn't stop until he's face to face with Todoroki. His head feels fuzzy, heart thudding against his ribs almost painfully.

Todoroki stares back at him, his head tipped backward and eyes cold. "Midoriya," he says, "Are you ready?"

The world shrinks down to the two of them.

Izuku's always been good at focusing, at distracting himself when he really needed to. He pushes all the nerves he has aside, his head clearing out all the thoughts of Mob and all of his friends. It's unimportant right now, right now, Todoroki is the most important thing here.

He bends his knees, stretching out arm, middle finger pressing against his thumb, and-

A wave of ice comes rushing towards him, crackling so loud Izuku can feel it in his teeth. He flicks.

The ice breaks apart easily and Todoroki is pushed backward by the force it. He creates a wall of ice behind him and slams into it before he reaches the edge of the ring.

Izuku grips his arm, snarling.

"I expected as much," Todoroki says calmly, breath coming out foggy. "Not that it matters."

He stamps his foot down and another wave of ice comes barreling forward. Izuku breaks that one with the snap of his index finger.

His fingers are throbbing in pain, but all he can focus on is the six shots. The six chances he has left.

Another wave of ice erupts from underneath Todoroki's foot, Izuku loses another finger.

"You're trying to outlast me?" Todoroki asks. "That's not going to work."

Another wave of ice and Izuku loses the last finger on his right hand. Then there's another, crinkling towards him and glittering in the light and Izuku tenses his left hand.

Todoroki flings out from over top the wave in the same second that Izuku shoots off a blast from his middle finger.

Izuku jumps back and ice comes swiftly aiming for his foot. He feels it grip the edge of his toe before he reflexively throws back his arm and punches.

There's a burst of extreme wind that follows the impact, stirring up dust and bits of concrete. Through it, Izuku watches as Todoroki creates an even bigger ice wall and crashes into it.

Tears start collecting in Izuku's eyes as he struggles to keep himself upright, his left arm dangling uselessly by his side.

Todoroki is strong. Maybe not as physically strong as Izuku using one hundred percent of his power, but strong in terms of intellect and reflexes. Izuku is lacking in experience here.

"Midoriya," Todoroki says. Izuku notes that he's trembling, patches of ice on his arm.

"I appreciate this," he continues. "My old man...he doesn't look too happy about how this going."

Izuku wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking for it, but there's something extremely sad about the look Todoroki throws up at his father.

It's spiteful, it's angry, it's so very well deserved, but…

Izuku just wishes he could have gotten a better start, because Todoroki, he wasn't just here by luck. He was working hard for this...he was...working hard…

I'll rise to the top without his power , Todoroki had said.

Sometimes it's too much , Mob had told him after the USJ attack.

"You're in no condition to fight anymore," Todoroki says, taking a half a step forward and clenching his fists, the picture of confidence. "Let's finish this."

The next ice wave comes rushing towards Izuku, and the seconds it takes for it to close the gap between them feels like hours.

He quickly takes stock of what he has which doesn't amount to much. Just two hands full of broken fingers and a stomach full of guilt. He lifts up his hand and aims.

He doesn't cry out as the bones in his fingers shatter again under the force of the blow. As Todoroki sails across the stage, Izuku slowly lowers his hand, gasping in painful breaths.

"Who said," he rasps, "that I was done?"

"Why are you pushing yourself so far?" Todoroki asks, eyes wide with shock. "You're just going to break yourself down even further."

"I have to do this," Izuku says for what feels like the thousandth time. The words feel different now though, they have a new purpose to them, a resolve he's latched onto. "I didn't realize it before." He staggers back upright, wincing as he jostles his arm. "But you've worked hard to get here even if it doesn't look like it."

Todoroki's expression closes off again, going dark. It reminds Izuku of how Mob looked at him in the hallway after their fight.

"I think, we might both feel like, we've worked harder to get here than others," Izuku says. He's not sure what his words sound like right now, not even one hundred percent positive of what he's saying through all the pain, but that doesn't matter. He has to get this out, it's important.

"What are you even trying to say?" Todoroki asks.

"I'm saying, we're trying so hard to prove ourselves here because of that, that we're limiting ourselves," Izuku says. "Everyone else here, is also trying to prove themselves worthy. To win, and to make it, all the way to the top."

He clenches his fists, fingers throbbing in pain. He thinks of all the fights so far, suddenly realizing just how hard they also had to work to get there. He thinks especially of Mob and Bakugou's fight, thinks of them in terms of starting lines and end goals.

"And you're seriously trying," Izuku continues, "to prove yourself worthy with only half of your power?" The tears that started in the corners of his eyes start to dribble down his cheeks, and he clenches his fist even tighter. "If you're really here to win for yourself, then come at me with everything you've got!"

"You're really starting to piss me off!" Todoroki snarls and rushes towards him, movements slower due to the ice spreading across his side.

Izuku feels One for All course through his arm, sparks darting off of it. He ducks down, sends up a prayer to whatever celestial being is listening that he doesn't kill the other boy, and punches Todoroki right in the gut.

The wind gets knocked out of him and Todoroki goes sailing across the ring, tumbling through the air. After he stops, he pushes himself to his feet, hand hovering above his right arm covered in ice and fresh scratches from where he skidded across the concrete.

As soon as he gets his bearings, ice comes rushing out from underneath Todoroki's foot. Izuku's hands will no longer make a fist, so he puts his thumb in his mouth and pulls. The ice crackles under the force of it.

Todoroki gets pushed back against another wall of ice. "God," he says. "This is getting ridiculous. Is it really so important that you do this? What's pushing you this far?"

Izuku starts running towards him, every step sending sharp pain through his arm. "I'm just trying to keep a promise I made to win!"

He slams into Todoroki again, trying to push him towards the edge of the ring. "That's why you're here too, right? Didn't you promise me that you were going to make it to the top?"

All Todoroki has to do is lift up his arms and push him away for Izuku to go stumbling backward.

"I promised to rise to the top without my father's-"

"I'm not fighting your father right now, I'm fighting you!" Izuku yells. "Your power, your determination, your resolve! That's all your own!"

There's a moment where they both pause, the weight of the words heavy too heavy to continue moving. Todoroki stares at him, wide-eyed.

And then his entire left side sets on fire.

"Are you seriously trying to help me?" Todoroki asks, an unnatural looking grin spreading across his face. "Is this seriously what this is all about?"

Izuku grins back. "Don't worry," he says, crouching into a fighting position, "I think you've helped me out too."

"You know," Todoroki says, matching his pose. "You're going to become a great hero if you don't kill yourself first."

Izuku leaps towards him, One for All crackling through his legs. At the same time, Todoroki lifts up his arm, palm stretching out forward.

"Midoriya," he says, "thanks."

A lot of things happen simultaneously after that. Concrete ripples outward creating a barrier between them, Todoroki's flames erupting in a burst of heat that sweeps over top of it, Izuku legs bursting with pain but nothing breaking, and finally, an explosion.

Izuku does not remember the seconds between the explosion pushing him out of the ring and slamming against the wall of the stadium, but they must have happened. It says something to his ridiculous pain tolerance that he doesn't pass out, instead sliding down the wall until he's sitting. Air is hard to come by despite being surrounded by it, breaths coming out shallow and wheezy.

He feels cold, whether from the numbness, the shock is causing or just the pain, in general, he doesn't know. His stomach churns, and he's nauseous enough that if he had enough strength in his muscles to go through the motions, he would probably vomit.

Todoroki stands in the ring, shirt burned to ashes on his left side, the remains of it signed and barely clinging on. He stares at Izuku like he's surprised that Izuku lost rather than the other way around.

The medic bots roll toward Izuku in the corner of his line of sight, and that's when it really hits him.

He lost.

He fought so hard, come all this way, and he had still lost.

And this result was inevitable, even if he didn't push himself as far as he did, he still would've lost. He not only broke his promise to Mob but to All Might too and knowing that it all amounted to nothing really stings. He can't help thinking that maybe he would've won if he had kept his mouth shut, but Todoroki...

Todoroki had reminded Izuku of Mob. They were both so strong, and, they had everything set up for them. They had what should've been a clear path to being a hero, and yet they both struggled with their resolves. And it was that connection that made it so Izuku just had to say something.

He hurt Mob, he thinks as the bots load him onto the gurney, he hurt Mob really badly. But maybe, just maybe, he had helped Todoroki.

.-.-.

Consciousness eases in slowly for Mob.

He feels his heartbeat first, a steady beat thumping against his rib chest. That makes him aware of his breath, and he takes a deep one, in and out through his nose. His eyes flutter open.

The ceiling is pure white, separated into tiles. It makes him think of all the times he passed out running with the Body Improvement club, only to wake up in the nurse's office, bathed in the orange hue of the evening.

He wonders for a moment if they've been watching the sports festival.

He blinks. He had passed out, which must have meant someone had taken him to the nurse's office.

It doesn't make sense since he would've been in the stands, but he imagines Midoriya carrying him there, the way President Musashi had in middle school. Then he remembers the last conversation he had with Midoriya and promptly suppresses any more thoughts of him.

A clicking noise catches his attention, and he rolls his head towards the source.

Recovery Girl pushes her rolling chair away from her desk with a huff. The television hums with noise behind her, the distinct sound of cheering that Mob's become uncomfortably familiar with throughout the day. He spots the familiar colors of a U.A. uniform before the screen cuts to something else.

"This is getting ridiculous," Recovery Girl says under her breath. "I don't like this, not one bit, what he's-"

She seems to notice Mob's awake, stopping mid-sentence. Her face is tight and her body tense, but for a moment her eyes seem to soften when she looks at him. "Ahh, you're up," she says. "How are you feeling?"

Mob's eyes dart toward the ceiling, taking a moment to consider the question. "Fine," he says after a moment. "Tired." He looks back at Recovery Girl. "What happened?"

"Ahh, you simply passed out from exhaustion it seems." She tuts at him. "You weren't injured in the slightest, which was honestly a nice surprise after most of today's events." She turns her chair, looking back at the television. "Congratulations on your win by the way," she says, her tone falling a bit flat in a way Mob can't read.

He follows her eyes to the television. The screen has switched to a commercial, advertising some product plastered with the face of a local hero.

He wonders if that's why some people become heroes, to get on television like that. There are probably much better ways to go about it if that's the case. He wonders if anyone in his class enrolled for that reason. The thought is uncomfortable.

"Your friend will be in here in a minute or two if you'd like to wait," Recovery Girl tells him. "Though I don't know how good of a shape he'll be in to talk."

Mob blinks. "Friend?"

The doors to the infirmary open, robots wheeling themselves in with a gurney balanced delicately on top of them. They whistle and hum and beep in high pitched little noises, sounding far to jovial for what their purpose is.

Mob sits up, craning his head to get a better look at what they're carrying. And he is sadly unsurprised to see what they're carrying is Midoriya.

He looks worse than Mob has ever seen him. His left arm is stained purple like a giant bruise, and all his fingers on both hands are even worse, the bones so shattered it barely looks like the flesh is supported by anything. His face is covered in sweat and tears, eyes puffy and red in a way that tells Mob he's been crying harder than usual.

Their gazes meet and Midoriya squints at him for a second before seeming to recognize him. Mob can see the second he does because his eyes start watering again. "Mob-!" he says, cutting himself off with a choked gasp.

Mob's scrambling out of the bed before he has a second to think about it, moving towards the gurney and then stopping beside it. The robots beep at him curiously as he stands there, looming over Midoriya with no idea what to do next. Midoriya blinks, tears dripping down his face and collecting on his chin.

Mob takes a deep breath, gears in his head turning rapidly as he tries to figure out what he even wants to say.

"Kageyama, could you be a dear and help me move him to a bed?" Recovery Girl asks, pushing herself out of her chair with a grunt. "I'm afraid neither I nor the robots have the finesse that you do nowadays."

Mob looks at her and then Midoriya, eyes moving back and forth once, twice, before nodding. "Ok," he says, "I can do that."

He flexes his fingers, hesitantly stretching out his hand as it begins to glow with bright purple energy. Midoriya gets coated in the same kaleidoscope patterns, his body going entirely still as Mob picks him up and then gingerly moves him on the bed.

Midoriya sinks into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut and Mob has a moment to wonder if he's going to pass out before the door swings open again.

Midoriya's mentor from the beach sweeps inside the room, breathing harshly like Mob does after he's run a kilometer. The man looks at Mob still standing by the gurney first, then Midoriya, and finally to Recovery girl. "How-" he gasps, "How is he?"

"How do you think?" Recovery Girl snips, pushing the button on the bed so that Midoriya can sit upright. "Just look at him, his entire arm is shattered. This is unfixable without surgery and even then, there's only so much I can do."

The man wrings his hands together, looking down towards the ground and not meeting her eyes. "I-"

"You drove this boy to this," she continues, stamping her cane the floor to emphasize her sentence. "You have been pushing this boy to break his body over and over again and for what?" She tuts, shaking her head. "I don't like this, not at all."

"That's…" The man glances up at her and then over to Midoriya. "That's understandable, I suppose."

"You've started this," Recovery Girl says, glaring up at him and lifting up her cane to hover over top of Midoriya. "You've encouraged this and you've let it continue, and if you want it to stop, you best not praise him for this."

Mob clenches his hand into a fist by his side. "Will-" Both adults look up at him sharply, as though they had forgotten he was even here. "Will Midoriya be ok?"

Recovery Girl hums, something in her face seeming to soften as she looks at him. She shuffles over to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "He'll be fine dearie," she says. "Nothing too permanent. Now, why don't you just run along, back to your friends until your next match, ok?"

Mob doesn't really want to leave. He feels frozen stiff, joints protesting as he's hurried towards the door. Nodding his head feels like breaking concrete, but he manages it. "Ok," he says, "ok." He places his hand on the knob, looking one more time at Recovery Girl like she might suddenly ask him to stay.

"Mob..." Midoriya croaks.

Mob snaps his head towards him, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees the adults do the same.

Midoriya is weakly pawing out for him, stretching the arm out that isn't broken, fingers drooping uselessly like melting candle wax. "Mob," he says again. "I'm so," he sucks in a raspy breath. "I'm so sorry."

Mob turns towards him again, brain trying to catch up with the moment. "For what?" he says after a beat.

"I'm so sorry," Midoriya says again, face scrunching up in pain, his arm dropping back down onto the bed. "I broke my promise to you for no reason-I-I couldn't even win. I'm so stupid, I'm sorry."

"You're not stupid," Mob says immediately, taking a couple of steps back towards the bed.

Midoriya gives a hollow laugh, ending it with a sharp inhale as it jostles his broken arm too much. "I should've just stopped like you said, I just didn't think...I didn't think you understood, but I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Mob narrows his eyes, processing that. "What did you think I didn't understand?"

"...How I got here," Midoriya says, no longer meeting his eyes. "I worked-so hard-to get here, and I just thought you wouldn't get that. I thought you, I thought that you of all people had it easy...You're just so cool and I-because of that I said something so stupid to you. God, I-" He goes to run a hand through his hair and yelps as his fingers shift awkwardly.

Mob takes the last steps needed to get to his side, hand moving to hover above him. "Stop moving," he says, "you're going to make it worse." Then he pauses, trying to wrap his head around Midoriya's somewhat incoherent ramblings and pick out the important pieces. It's hard because he finds that all of them seem important.

"I'm not cool," he says after a bit. "I'm really plain."

Midoriya snorts, head lolling downward.

Mob finds himself smiling thinly without meaning too, and quickly smooths out his features again. "Midoriya," he says seriously. It seems like that's enough to get Midoriya's attention, head drifting back up towards him and studying his face.

"Yeah?"

"...I've worked hard to get here," Mob says, "and I'm still working hard and doing my best, and I think you're doing your best too." He hums, looking up to the ceiling to collect his thoughts. "I don't think I understand why you feel like you have to push yourself so hard, but I shouldn't have tried to stop you without asking first."

He looks back down at Midoriya who stares back, the look on his face reminding him of Tsubomi's after his confession to her. The weight of it makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. "I-" Midoriya sputters, his arm twitching in an aborted gesture. "I-What?-I don't- I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry, too."

Midoriya's jaw clicks shut. He swallows. "I-" he says, words coming out thick. "You don't have anything to apologize for though? I'm the one who made you mad, I broke my promise!"

"I wasn't mad at you for breaking your promise," he says, then pauses, tilting his head. "I wasn't mad at you just for breaking your promise," he corrects. "I was mad because you keep on getting hurt and I can't stop it. I'll do better though, I think I get it more now."

Midoriya studies his face, awestruck, and then his face scrunches up and he starts crying in earnest. "Mo-Mob," he hiccups. "I'm-I'm so sorry, I should've never-I should've never told you…"

He cuts off with a sob and Mob feels his stomach drop. He spins around, looking for any sort of tissues and finds them on Recovery Girl's desk. He grabs the box and moves back towards the bed, going to hand them to Midoriya before realizing he can't really grab them himself.

"I'm sorry," Mob says, a heavy pressure sitting on his chest as he reaches into the box and pulls a tissue out. He lifts it up to Midoriya's face, pausing only for a second before he wipes some of the tears off. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I-I-I," Midoriya stutters, breath hitching. "I should've never told you to get a clue! You-You...You have way more of a clue than I do, you're-you're just- you're amazing ."

Mob stills, pausing in wiping Midoriya's face. He feels his cheeks warm. "Oh," he exhales. "I-"

Mob hears the man behind them start to clear his throat at the same time that the door slams open. Mob jumps backward, spinning around to find Sero, Tsuyu, Uraraka, and Iida all bursting into the room. They all start attempting to talk over each other, a chorus of worried voices echoing in the small space.

"Deku, what were-" "What was that dude? Are you-" "That really was something Mido-" "What a match that was, though honestly-" "-you thinking?" "-alright?" "-riya."

Midoriya just blinks at them. "Guys? What are you-? The next match?"

Tsuyu steps forward, finger pressed to her mouth. "Ah, Mob, you're here too," she says. "That's good, you're up next."

Mob's chest tightens at the sudden reminder, and a glance at Midoriya tells him that he had forgotten too, mouth parted in a small round shape.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, Mob, are you-are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Mob says. "Just tired." He tilts his head towards Midoriya. "I think you should be more worried about your recovery than about me."

"That's right," Recovery Girl tuts, shuffling over to Midoriya's side and nudging Mob out of the way with her body. She rummages through a drawer next to the bed and pulls out what look to Mob to be some gauze and a sling. "You all should get out of here now, shoo. I'm about to have to start surgery."

"Surgery?" The group says in sync.

"Yes, yes, now go, go!" She says, nudging Mob away with her cane.

Mob hesitantly moves towards his friends, reluctant to leave Midoriya alone. Though, he won't really be alone, will he? Recovery Girl will be there when Mob leaves, and so will Midoriya's mentor.

As if called by the thought of him, Midoriya's mentor pats Mob's shoulders. "Don't worry, Young Kageyama," he says, "Midoriya is in good hands with Recovery Girl."

Mob stares at him for a moment, eyes drifting to the shoulder the man touched and then back to him. He gives a jerky nod. "I know," he says. "Thank you for watching over him."

The man's eyes widen and then soften. "Of course," he says.

"Come on Mob!" Sero says, apparently having taken up the role of herding everyone out the door, arms stretched out wide blocking it. Uraraka's head peeks out from over his arm, backing up on her tippy toes to try and get a look at Midoriya, looking like she's about to attempt to push her way back into the room at any second.

Mob huffs. "Alright," he says, moving towards the door.

The group is already halfway down the hallway when Mob slips out of the door. He goes to shut it behind him, but for some reason pauses when he hears Midoriya's voice again.

"All Might…" Midoriya says. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't keep my promise to you either-I just-Todoroki-" He takes a sharp breath, the clank of metal tools being brought out drowning out part of what he's saying. "-of Mob."

Mob freezes, hand clutching the knob. Midoriya's mentor starts speaking in a hushed tone, and the same time Sero yells down the corridor for him. "Come on dude!" He says, waving frantically at him. "You can't be late for the semifinals man, they're the semifinals!"

Mob empties his head and quickly clicks the door shut.

Fifty.

By the time Mob catches up with the rest of the group, he finds them all surrounding Iida, concern painted over all their faces.

Iida has his phone pressed against his ear, his face pale. The hand not holding the phone shakes, and he clenches it in a tight fist by his side. "Yes, mother," he says. "I understand, I will join you as fast as I can I promise. I love you."

He hangs up the phone and stares at it for a moment, before his eyes dart up, moving quickly to look at each of them in turn. "I'm afraid I must leave early," he tells them. "My brother has been attacked by a villain."

Uraraka gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"Dude, oh no," Sero says, looking a bit queasy. "I'm so sorry."

"Do you need…" Tsuyu says, and then uncharacteristically hesitates, shuffling her feet. "Do you need one of us to come with you?"

Iida shakes his head stiffly. "No," he says. "This is a family matter." Then, his head snaps towards Mob and he gives him a hard stare.

"Kageyama," he takes a couple steps forward, hand reaching out towards Mob's shoulder. He pauses and seems to think better of it, dropping it down to his side. "Please do your best in this next round."

Mob stares back at him, the silence stretching on a moment too long. "I will," he says finally. "But I think you should go now."

Iida nods, takes a deep breath, and then nods again. He turns away from them, body moving mechanically, and disappears down one of the side hallways.

.-.-.

Mob ends his fight with Ashido very quickly.

It's almost too quickly, he feels like. He simply pushes her out of the ring, as easy and as simple as that.

He feels a little bit bad, but she's a very good sport about it. She stands up, dusting herself off, and walks over to him with a wide grin on her face. "Good job, Kagekun!" she says, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She shakes it with a lot of force, his arm bouncing up and down. "I won't be so easy to beat next time!"

Mob feels a bit uncomfortable at the contact, but too thrown by the new nickname to say anything. "Oh," he says. "Ok."

Ashido beams at him and lets go of his hand, waving at him as she moves off the stage.

Mob pauses for a few seconds after she's gone, looking up and down from his hand to her retreating back. Then, he turns around and walks off the stage.

He makes it back up to the stands as Todoroki and Kendou start walking into the ring. They stand across from each other, both looking grim and determined.

Mob stops on the stairs to watch them. Kendou's hands twitch, lifting up and tensing as she prepares to move. Todoroki stands stock still.

"Mob!" Uraraka calls.

Mob turns to her right as the fight begins down in the ring. As she waves at him, there's a crackling sound that rises up from the stadium and when Mob looks down again, the match is over.

Kendou's body is encased in ice, her hands are stretched out towards Todoroki. Her breath comes out steamy and she wiggles her fingers, trying desperately to curl them into fist. They barely respond to her.

Mob sees rather than hears the moment she gives up, body slumping as the fight goes out of her.

Todoroki takes a slow couple of steps towards her, lifting up his left hand and pressing it against the ice. It starts to melt and Mob is reminded of Todoroki's fight against Aoyama, the giant wall of ice that had covered the entire ring.

This time, the attack seems like it was more controlled and precise. Careful, Mob thinks. It was careful.

"Looks like our final match is set then!" Present Mic shouts over the speakers as Todoroki frees Kendou's arms. "Kageyama versus Todoroki!"

Sixty-four.

The reality of the situation hits Mob abruptly and his stomach drops.

He actually made it to the finals. This whole crowd will be watching them now, everyone will be watching them. And whoever wins will be talked about, they'll have their face plastered everywhere and be paraded around.

You'll be popular, a person in a smiling mask told him.

Mob sucks in a deep breath and suppress the rise of emotions before he can put a name to them.

"Oh, hey, Mob!"

Midoriya appears at the bottom of the stair, grinning at him. One of his arms is hanging in a sling but the other looks fine again, his jacket hangs loosely over his shoulder. There's a bandage plastered onto his cheek and Mob wonders if it hurts for him to smile.

He comes to a stop in front of Mob, and as he studies his face, his own expression slowly drops. "Are you ok?" he asks.

Mob opens his mouth and a hand smacks against his shoulder. He turns around to find Sero grinning at him.

"Dude, he's probably just nervous," he says. "I mean, who wouldn't after getting this far? But we all know he's gonna win, so there's no real need for him to be, right?"

"Right," Uraraka agrees, maneuvering in front of the chairs until she gets to them. "We know you've got this Mob!"

Tsuyu peeks out from behind Uraraka. "There's no need to be nervous, Mob," she says. "Even if you don't win, it'll be fine."

Mob pauses, looking down at his feet, and then nods stiffly. "I know," he says, and looks up, peering through his bangs. "Thank you all for helping me get this far."

Midoriya frowns at him. "Mob, we didn't really do-"

"Of course dude!" Sero says, giving Midoriya's good shoulder a hard pat. "We'll always be cheering you on when you need us man, I know you'd do the same for us."

Mob looks at him, face going blank in confusion. "Of course," he says. "Why wouldn't I?"

Uraraka laughs, grabbing onto his hand and patting the top of it. "You're a really good person Mob," she says. "Now," she winks at him, nudging him in the direction of the stairs. "Go on! Before you're late!"

Mob smiles as well as he can, looking over his shoulder at them. The pressure in his chest is still there, but it's less overwhelming with his friends around. "Thank you," he says. "I think I'm ready for this now."

And in all honesty, he thinks he is. He turns back and starts walking down the stairs. He's found something he wants and it's more moments exactly like these, more moments with his friends all together.

"Where's Iida?" he hears Midoriya ask behind him.

Mob's blood immediately goes cold, expression blanking again. He doesn't stop walking until he gets to the preparation room.

He places the hand on the knob, takes a deep breath like his Master taught him, and opens the door to Todoroki sitting at the table.

Mob freezes. "Oh."

Todoroki jolts, looking up from his palms. "It's you," he says simply, and then goes back to staring at his hands.

Mob pauses in the doorway. "Midoriya…" he starts and then pauses, mind moving slowly as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. "You won against him using your fire."

Todoroki's head snaps toward him, eyes narrowing and shoulders tensing up. "I-" he says, voice sharp with something Mob can't recognize. Then, just as suddenly, he deflates. "I did."

"...Why?" Mob asks. "Why haven't you used it before?"

Todoroki turns back to his hands, not meeting Mob's eyes. He clenches his fingers into a fist and then relaxes them. "Midoriya," he says. "He made me forget, for a second, what was holding me back."

Mob nods slowly, processing this new information.

"You've been friends with Midoriya for a while now, haven't you?" Todoroki asks. "You're close. Has he-Has he always been like that? He's so..." He trails off.

Mob thinks of their fight in the hallway, of Midoriya's face as he had laid out on the nurse's bed and apologized.

"Midoriya makes mistakes," Mob says. "But he always tries his best, and I think…" He pauses bringing a finger to his mouth in thought. "I think this time he tried his best for you."

Todoroki stares at Mob like he's looking right through him, like he's a world away. He nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Mob turns around, going to move away and head to his own prep room. Before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder. "I don't know what you're struggling with," he tells him. "But I think Midoriya would want you to try your best too."

Todoroki's eyes refocus on him, mouth twisting downward. He stands up in measure movements, palms pressing against the table.

"Good luck, Kageyama," he says.

Mob pauses and then nods. "Good luck, Todoroki."

He leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Sixty-eight.

.-.-.

"At last! We've arrived at the final match!" Present Mic shouts. "We came here to watch the best of the best of the U.A.'s first years! And now they're coming at you live from the ring!"

Mob and Todoroki stand across from each other. Mob's chest feels tight, hands clenched so tightly by his sides that their shaking. He watches Todoroki from underneath his bangs.

Todoroki doesn't look much better off, knees bent and arms stretched out wide, preparing for the fight. His jaw is set.

"It's the final match! Todoroki vs Kageyama!" Present Mic says, voice vibrating through the air. "Now…

"START!"

Todoroki slams his hands down on the ground and ice comes rushing towards him.

Mob puts a barrier around him, and the ice grows around it, creating a tiny cave from him. It's pitch black and entirely silent.

Mob pauses for a second.

Sixty-eight.

It's peaceful.

He allows himself to enjoy it for only a second before he drops his barrier. He tests the ice, pushing against it with his quirk. It crackles under the force.

He gives it another strong push and a giant hole burst through the ice, sunlight pouring in.

He watches Todoroki go flying backward from the gust of wind it creates. Mob goes chasing after him, propelling himself forward with his quirk.

Todoroki creates a curved wall of ice, sliding around it so he's coming at Mob from behind.

He leaps at him, arms outstretched, ice spreading up his right arm.

Mob spins around in time for Todoroki to land a hit on his face, the punch making direct contact with his cheek.

He goes sailing across the ring, weightless.

He stops himself mid-air, pulling himself in the opposite direction. He grits his teeth.

Seventy.

He flings himself back toward Todoroki, world blurring around him. Todoroki's eyes get wider the closer he gets, lifting up his arms to guard his face.

Mob grabs his left arm. Todoroki throws him off without using his quirk.

Mob's feet skid against the ground as he lands, the soles of his shoes burning on the concrete. He pulls up both of his arms, channeling all his energy.

Todoroki goes flying upward, spinning around in the air. He stares down at Mob with a wild look in his eye, righting himself.

There's a quiet moment between them, both of the breathing heavily from the exhaustion of pushing themselves so far.

It doesn't last long. Todoroki starts struggling, and unable to find purchase in the air, starts creating shards of ice that rain down on Mob.

He easily catches those as well, holding them up in the air where they glitter in the sunlight.

Mob pauses, taking a moment to really study Todoroki as his attacks grow weaker and more desperate. His right half is almost entirely covered in ice, cracking and refreezing with each movement. His lips are curled back in a snarl that reminds Mob of angry dogs he's rescued with his Master.

Mob has a sudden realization that this is not a fair fight.

The shards stop and Todoroki slumps forward, hair falling in front of his eyes.

Mob could win right now. He could throw Todoroki right out of the ring as hard as he could and win in the way everyone expects him too.

His hands falter.

He remembers Reigen, giving his blessing to use all his power in the sports festival. He remembers Bakugou telling him to win for himself. He remembers Aizawa pulling him out into the hallway and giving him an ultimatum.

He thinks about why he's here.

The moment stretches on, the anticipation from the crowd pliable as though it sits in the ring with them. Thousands of people, waiting and watching for the outcome. His stomach lurches as he becomes aware of all the eyes on him.

Seventy-five.

"Mob!" Midoriya's voice cries out from the stands, almost drowned out by the pressure sizzling up inside Mob. "Don't give up!"

Mob blinks, the words snapping him back into the moment. His arms tense and he holds them up higher, entirely focusing his attention on Todoroki. The fire in his eyes has dimmed, and he's now watching Mob expectantly.

Mob nods. Todoroki nods back.

He gently sets Todoroki down outside of the ring, steadying him right on his feet.

And with that, Mob wins.

The crowd stays silent for a moment, holding their breaths as though the fight hadn't ended yet. It takes one cheer, however, before they erupt into applause.

Mob looks up to where he knows Class 1-A is sitting, and gives a small thin smile. He sees his face reflected back at him on the large overhead screens and waves.

.-.-.

In a small bar located in one of the worst parts of town, Shigaraki sits with his knees pulled to his chest, his arms resting on top of them.

He's surrounded by screens that all show the same thing. A blank-faced boy with a bowl cut, All Might standing in front of him, holding out a golden metal.

The boy bows his head and All Might drapes it over his neck, smiling that same stupid, fake smile that Shigaraki has always hated. The boy's expression doesn't change as he picks his head up, watching All Might with cool disinterest.

Shigaraki knows what's hiding behind that expression though, he's seen it. He's just not sure how to work with it yet.

There's a zipping sound that comes from behind him, a warp gate that Kurogiri made opening up. Shigaraki doesn't have to look to know who it is.

"Hero Killer Stain," he says. "I'm glad you've decided to join us." He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck. "See, I have a proposition for you…"

To be continued...

Hey guys! :D

So we have reached the end of the Sports Festival Arc! Yay! ^o^ This chapter also wound up being ridiculously long, so I might be setting a new trend here orz haha! I think I'm gonna be taking a break from SATSS for a bit with the conclusion of this arc, but don't worry! I'll still be writing other fics, most likely some for SATSS verse as well!

Also, at this point in the story, I'd like to thank you all so much for reading ^u^ It makes me happier than I can put into words the amount of support and kindness I've gotten for this fic. It's so important to me and so wonderful to see so many people inspired by this fic, whether that's to make fanart, write their own stories, or even just be curious enough to send my an ask or leave me a comment asking a question. Every kudo, every bookmark, every comment, it really is you guys helping make this happen and I couldn't be more thankful ;u; Thank you all so much, sincerely.