I raised my arm in victory, smiling through teeth clenched against the pain shooting through my left side. The roar of the crowd hammered against my eardrums, thousands of voices merging into a solid wall of sound.
Damn, that hurts more than I expected.
Katsuki's Howitzer Impact had done serious damage. Burns throbbed along my ribs where I hadn't quite redirected all that explosive force. Each breath sent sharp needles through my chest. The shoulder I'd caught his arm with felt strained, possibly torn ligaments from absorbing that much kinetic energy.
Worth it.
I glanced at Katsuki as we stood side by side, acknowledging the crowd. His face remained neutral, a far cry from the tantrums he would have thrown not even a year ago.
"Not bad for second place," I said, keeping my smile fixed for the cameras.
Katsuki's eye twitched. "Keep talking, Midoriya. Makes it easier to target your mouth next time."
"Bold to assume there'll be a next time after I put you on your ass."
"You caught me off guard," he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. "Won't happen again."
"That what you're telling yourself?" I turned slightly, making sure the television cameras couldn't read my lips. "I counted sixteen openings in your fighting style. Only used three."
Katsuki's smile sharpened, becoming something feral. "Funny. I was holding back too."
"Bullshit."
"That Howitzer? Thirty percent power. Any more would've killed you in front of the whole country."
I snorted, which sent another bolt of pain through my ribs. "Thirty percent? Your arm's shaking from the recoil."
"And you're bleeding through your shirt."
I glanced down. Red indeed seeped through the blue fabric along my left side. The burn must have been worse than I thought.
"Barely a scratch."
"Prove it." Katsuki's eyes narrowed. "Right now. Behind the stadium. No cameras, no rules."
"You asking for round two after I just kicked your ass? Glutton for punishment."
"I'm asking for a real fight, not this tournament bullshit."
We reached the tunnel entrance, finally escaping the roar of the crowd. The moment we were out of public view, I let my smile drop, allowing myself a small wince as pain flared along my side.
"Should've dodged faster," Katsuki noted, eyeing the blood-soaked fabric.
"Should've hit harder," I countered, straightening despite the protest from my ribs. "Maybe next decade you'll manage to land a clean shot."
Katsuki opened his mouth for another retort when Recovery Girl's voice cut through our bickering.
"If you two are finished comparing the size of your egos, the infirmary is this way."
We turned to see the diminutive nurse standing at the corridor junction, hands on her hips, expression thoroughly unimpressed.
"We're fine," I said automatically.
"You're bleeding on my floor," she pointed out. "And Bakugo's pupils are uneven. Neither of you is 'fine.'"
Katsuki scowled. "It's nothing—"
"Don't test me, young man." Recovery Girl's voice hardened. "I've been patching up heroes since before your parents were born. I can tell the difference between 'nothing' and 'internal bleeding' from fifty paces."
She turned and began walking, clearly expecting us to follow. After exchanging a brief glance, we did.
"Good fight," I muttered as we trailed behind her.
Katsuki didn't look at me. "Could've been better."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. "Wasn't expecting that spinning counter at the end."
"Manji kick variant," I said.
"Huh." A pause. "I'll be ready for it next time."
We reached the infirmary door before I could respond. Recovery Girl pushed it open, revealing the familiar white beds and medical equipment. Queen stood by the supply cabinet, organizing hypodermic needles with terrifying precision.
"Déjà vu," I muttered, remembering the aftermath of the battle trial.
"Just like old times," Katsuki agreed. "Except this time I knocked you around in front of the whole country instead of just our class."
"Selective memory loss from that concussion?" I raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I'm the one who just won."
"Semantics."
"That's a big word for someone who just got his ass handed to him."
Queen turned at our entrance, her blue eyes taking in our conditions with one clinical sweep. "The walking disasters return," she observed, voice dry as desert sand.
Recovery Girl pointed to adjacent beds. "Sit. Both of you."
We complied, the fight momentarily forgotten as the elderly nurse approached with her scanner. She started with Katsuki, running the device over his torso while muttering under her breath about "reckless children" and "unnecessary damage."
"Three broken ribs," she announced. "Mild concussion. Second-degree burns on your palms from quirk overuse. Microstrains in your shoulder tendons." She fixed him with a stern look. "You exceeded your limits, young man."
Katsuki shrugged. "Oh well."
"Hm." Recovery Girl moved to me next, her scanner humming. "And you. Two cracked ribs. Severe burns along the left torso. Shoulder strain. Internal bruising." She sighed heavily. "What am I going to do with you two?"
"Heal us and send us on our way?" I suggested.
"After I lecture you both into next week," she corrected, preparing her quirk. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Katsuki's forehead. His injuries began healing, bones knitting together with audible cracks that made even Queen wince.
Katsuki's face went pale as the healing process drained his stamina. He gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white.
"Not so tough now, huh?" I said, though there wasn't much heat behind it. I knew exactly how exhausting Recovery Girl's healing felt.
"Fuck... off..." he managed through gritted teeth.
Recovery Girl turned to me next. "Your turn, young man."
I braced myself as her lips pressed against my forehead. The familiar rush of accelerated healing hit immediately—bones shifting back into place, torn muscle fibers reconnecting, burnt skin regenerating.
The room spun briefly as my body's energy redirected to the healing process.
Queen approached with clipboards, making notes on our conditions. "Impressive display of stupidity out there," she said conversationally. "Especially you, Midoriya. First, running into a glacier with Todoroki and you upped the ante by catching an explosion with your bare hand? What exactly was your backup plan if your timing had been off?"
"Wouldn't have been," I replied.
"Overconfidence. Charming." She made another note. "And you, Bakugo. That final Howitzer Impact used enough nitroglycerin to damage your own tendons."
Katsuki grunted, still recovering from the healing process.
"The problem with you boys," Recovery Girl said, checking our vital signs, "is that you think your bodies are indestructible. You're young, yes, but that doesn't mean you can abuse yourselves without consequences."
"We're training to be heroes," I pointed out. "Getting hurt comes with the territory."
"Getting hurt, yes. Needlessly damaging yourselves? Absolutely not." She fixed me with a stern look. "There's a difference between necessary risk and reckless endangerment, young man."
"What she said," Queen added, not looking up from her clipboard. "Heroes who don't understand the difference tend to have very short careers. Usually ending in closed-casket funerals."
A knock at the door interrupted what promised to be a thorough lecture on hero mortality rates.
Recovery Girl sighed. "Who now?"
She shuffled to the door and opened it. I couldn't see, but the familiar voice that filtered through made my heart skip.
"Is Izu okay? We saw the match and—"
"No visitors," Recovery Girl said firmly. "He needs rest."
"But—"
"No exceptions, Miss Utsushimi. He and Mr. Bakugo need to recover their stamina after healing."
I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and worried brown eyes before Recovery Girl closed the door with surprising finality for someone her size.
The knocking resumed immediately. "Let me innnn," Camie's voice came through the door, the whine in her tone making me smile despite my exhaustion. "I just wanna see him for like, two seconds, fam!"
"She's persistent," Queen observed.
"You have no idea," I said.
Recovery Girl ignored the continued knocking, returning to her examination. "As I was saying, you both need to learn your limits. Especially you, Midoriya. Without a quirk's natural durability, you—"
The knocking paused, then came again, more insistent. "Recovery Girl, please. I need check on my class president."
That wasn't Camie's voice. The precise diction and formal tone could only belong to Yaoyorozu.
Recovery Girl's eye twitched slightly. With a huff, she marched back to the door and opened it a crack. "Young ladies, I appreciate your concern, but—"
"We won't interfere with their recovery," came Yaoyorozu's reasonable tone. "We simply wish to confirm their condition with our own eyes."
"Yeah, what she said!" Camie added. "Just a peek!"
I strained to see past Recovery Girl, catching sight not just of Camie and Yaoyorozu, but a third figure standing slightly behind them—Todoroki, her heterochromatic eyes fixed on the floor, arms crossed defensively.
"Absolutely not," Recovery Girl said. "They need rest, not an audience. You can see them after they've recovered."
"But—"
The door closed again, cutting off further protests. Recovery Girl turned the lock for good measure, then returned to us with a disapproving frown.
"Popular, aren't you?" she observed.
"What can I say? The ladies love a winner," I replied.
"The ladies love idiots who nearly get themselves killed on national television," she corrected. "These will scar without further treatment."
"Add them to the collection," I said with a shrug.
The knocking continued, Camie's voice now joined by what sounded like Yaoyorozu trying to reason through the door and Todoroki's quieter murmurs.
Katsuki snorted. "Your fan club's getting rowdy."
"Jealous?" I asked. "I'm sure if we check the hallway long enough, we might find a woman who cares besides mom and Aunt Mitsuki. Maybe."
"Fuck you."
"Children," Recovery Girl said sharply. "Enough. You've both done enough damage for one day."
Twenty minutes passed like a slow drip of molasses. Recovery Girl had banned further knocking after threatening to call security, leaving us in the blissful silence of medical machinery and Queen's disapproving pen scratches against her clipboard.
I sat on the edge of the bed, nursing an energy drink that tasted like liquefied chemistry experiment. The sugar and caffeine helped combat the bone-deep exhaustion from Recovery Girl's healing, but only barely. My side still ached where the burns had been, phantom pain lingering where actual injuries had existed minutes before.
Across from me, Katsuki downed his own energy drink in three aggressive gulps, crushing the can in his fist afterward. His eyes remained fixed on some distant point, thoughts clearly elsewhere—probably already dissecting our fight, looking for weaknesses to exploit next time.
"Your ribs will be tender for the next day or so," Recovery Girl said, checking my vitals one last time. "No strenuous activity."
"Define strenuous."
She fixed me with a withering look. "See if you're still a smart ass when you reinjure yourself and I refuse to heal you."
"No strenuous activity. Got it."
She turned to Katsuki. "Same goes for you, young man. Your concussion has healed, but your brain still needs rest."
"Whatever," he mumbled, tossing the crushed can into a nearby bin.
Recovery Girl sighed, glancing at the clock. "The award ceremony starts in ten minutes. You're both cleared to participate—but that's all. Understand?"
We nodded in unison.
"Good." She moved to unlock the door. "Try not to kill each other on the way there."
The moment the lock clicked open, the door burst inward with enough force to make Recovery Girl jump back. Camie stood in the entrance, brown eyes wild, chest heaving as if she'd been running.
"Finally!" she exclaimed, scanning the room until her gaze locked on me. "Izu!"
I barely had time to stand before she launched herself across the room. Her body collided with mine in a full koala bear hug, legs wrapping around my waist, arms encircling my neck.
"Hey, beautiful," I managed, supporting her weight with my arms.
She didn't respond with words. Instead, her lips descended on my face in a flurry of kisses—forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, each one punctuated by a small sound of relief. Her blonde hair curtained around us, creating a private world that smelled like her strawberry shampoo.
"Don't—" kiss "—ever—" kiss "—scare me—" kiss "—like that—" kiss "—again!" She punctuated her final word by capturing my lips properly.
"Disgusting," Katsuki muttered.
Camie broke the kiss to shoot him a glare over her shoulder. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, Bakugo."
"As if."
Yaoyorozu entered next, her ponytail slightly disheveled as if she'd been running. Her dark eyes assessed the room quickly before settling on Katsuki.
"Good fight," she said, extending her hand formally. "Your control over your explosions has improved remarkably."
Katsuki stared at her hand for a moment before accepting it with a brief shake. "Thanks."
She nodded, then turned toward me, where Camie remained firmly attached like an extraordinarily attractive barnacle. Yaoyorozu's cheeks colored slightly.
"Midoriya," she began, hands clasped in front of her. "Congratulations on your victory. Your adaptation to Bakugo's fighting style was truly impressive."
"Thanks, Yaomomo," I replied.
She hesitated, glancing at Camie, who finally unwound herself from me but kept an arm firmly around my waist.
"Go ahead," Camie said. "He earned plenty of congratulations today."
Yaoyorozu stepped forward and, after another moment's hesitation, wrapped her arms around me in a proper hug. Unlike Camie's explosive greeting, hers was gentle, mindful of my injuries—but no less genuine. I returned it one-armed, my other still occupied by Camie's grip.
"You were amazing out there," Yaoyorozu murmured near my ear, her voice low enough that only I could hear. "I was worried when you took that last explosion."
"Had it under control," I assured her.
She pulled back, dark eyes searching mine as if checking for honesty. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her, because she nodded and stepped away, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her tournament uniform.
Todoroki entered last, hanging back near the doorway. Her dual-colored hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, but a few strands had escaped to frame her face. She stood with perfect posture, hands clasped behind her back, expression neutral—but her heterochromatic eyes tracked every movement in the room with laser focus.
"Midoriya."
"Todoroki."
"Your footwork was sloppy during the final exchange. You over-extended your right leg by approximately three centimeters, which is why the explosion caught your side rather than being fully redirected."
I blinked. Coming from anyone else, this would sound like criticism. From Todoroki, it was practically a love letter.
"Thanks for the analysis," I said, fighting back a smile.
"You're welcome." She nodded seriously, missing my amusement entirely. "I've compiled a list of twenty-three additional observations that may help improve your performance in future matches."
"Twenty-three, huh?"
"Yes. I can review them with you later on tomorrow if you'd like."
Camie snickered beside me. "Is that what you're going with?"
Todoroki's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "I'd appreciate the feedback, Todoroki. I'll take you up on that."
She nodded again, seemingly satisfied, then turned to Katsuki. "Your form was excellent until the final Howitzer Impact, when your right shoulder dropped by approximately eleven degrees, telegraphing your attack vector."
Katsuki's eye twitched. "Did I fucking ask?"
"No. But improvement requires objective feedback."
Before Katsuki could respond with what would undoubtedly be a creative string of profanity, Queen cleared her throat loudly.
"As fascinating as this post-battle analysis is," she said, "you all have an award ceremony to attend. Now."
"Shit," Katsuki muttered, glancing at the clock. "Let's go."
We filed out of the infirmary, Camie still attached to my side like she feared I might disappear if she let go. The hallway outside had cleared, though the distant roar of the crowd told us the stadium remained packed.
We reached the entrance to the arena, where Midnight waited in all her leather-clad glory. Her eyes lit up when she spotted us.
"There they are! Our champions!" She clapped her hands together. "Perfect timing. We're about to begin."
Behind her, I could see the stadium field had been transformed. A large podium now dominated the center, with first, second, and dual third-place platforms. The crowd noise swelled as we approached, thousands of voices merging into a wall of sound once again.
"Places, everyone," Midnight instructed. "Bakugo and Midoriya, wait here. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki, follow me to get in position."
Yaoyorozu gave me a final smile before following Midnight. Todoroki nodded once, her version of a goodbye, and trailed after them.
Camie squeezed my arm. "I should get back to the stands. Hagakure's saving my seat."
"Go ahead," I said. "I'll see you after."
She glanced at Bakugo she passed. "Better luck next time, Blasty."
"Quiet," he suggested pleasantly.
She just laughed and jogged off toward the spectator entrance, her blonde hair bouncing with each step.
Left alone with Katsuki, I leaned against the wall.
"Your groupies are annoying," he said after a moment.
"They're my friends."
"Whatever." He crossed his arms. "Todoroki was right about your footwork, by the way. It was shit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize you were such an expert on proper form, Mr. I-Blow-Up-Everything-In-Sight."
"My explosions have precision, asshole."
Midnight reappeared. "Ready, boys? It's showtime!"
She led us to the entrance tunnel. Beyond it, I could see the packed stadium, cameras floating above the crowd, the massive screens showing highlights from the tournament. My face appeared on one, caught mid-kick during the final exchange with Katsuki.
"And now," Present Mic's voice boomed through the speakers, "let's welcome our finalists for this year's UA Sports Festival first-year championship!"
The crowd erupted as we stepped into the sunlight. Camera flashes popped like stars, and the roar intensified. I kept my face neutral, channeling the calm I'd learned from Bang during our training. Beside me, Katsuki did the same, though I caught the slight twitch in his jaw that betrayed his tension.
"In third place," Present Mic continued, "give it up for Class 1-A's tactical genius Momo Yaoyorozu and the ice-and-fire powerhouse Hitomi Todoroki!"
Yaoyorozu and Todoroki stood on the third-place platform, waving to the crowd. Yaoyorozu smiled graciously, while Todoroki maintained her usual stoic expression, acknowledging the applause with a small nod.
"In second place, the explosive prodigy Katsuki Bakugo!"
Katsuki walked to his platform, head high, refusing to show any disappointment at his placement. The crowd cheered enthusiastically—his fight against me had been spectacular, regardless of the outcome.
"And in first place—the wonder boy, the martial arts master, Class 1-A's president Izuku Midoriya!"
The volume doubled as I stepped onto the highest platform. Signs appeared in the crowd—some had my name, others bore crude drawings of my face.
I raised my fist, acknowledging their support. The cheers intensified.
"What an incredible tournament," Present Mic said once the noise died down slightly. "And now, to present the medals, please welcome the Symbol of Peace himself—All Might!"
The stadium practically exploded as All Might bounded onto the field, his signature smile gleaming in the sunlight. He carried a small case containing the medals, his costume pristine despite the powerful leaps that brought him to the stage.
"I AM HERE!" he boomed, striking his iconic pose. "To honor these young heroes who have shown such PLUS ULTRA spirit today!"
He approached the third-place platform first, taking out two bronze medals.
"Young Todoroki," he said, placing the medal around her neck. "Your control and strategic use of both sides of your quirk shows tremendous growth. I'm particularly impressed by your adaptability in the face of unexpected challenges."
Todoroki bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."
All Might turned to Yaoyorozu next. "Young Yaoyorozu, your creative applications of your Creation quirk demonstrate not just intelligence, but true hero instinct. The ability to produce exactly what's needed in any situation is invaluable in crisis response."
"Thank you, All Might," Yaoyorozu said, her voice steady despite the emotion evident in her eyes. "I'll continue to improve."
He moved to Katsuki next, lifting the silver medal. "Young Bakugo," he said, his voice carrying across the stadium. "Your power is matched only by your fighting spirit. But today, you showed something equally important—the ability to acknowledge a worthy opponent. That growth will serve you well as a hero."
Katsuki accepted the medal with a stiff nod. "I'll be taking gold next time," he said, just loud enough for the microphones to catch.
All Might laughed. "I'd expect nothing less!"
Finally, he approached me, gold medal gleaming in his massive hands. Our eyes met, and I saw something there beyond the public persona—pride, yes, but also a question.
"Young Midoriya," he said, placing the medal around my neck. The weight of it felt significant, symbolic. "Today you have shown the world what I have always known—that true heroism comes from the heart, not from power alone."
"Thank you, sir," I said.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, leaning in slightly. "Your victory today sends a powerful message to everyone watching."
The medal felt heavier with each word.
"There's something else I'd like to discuss with you," he continued, voice dropping so only I could hear. "Your beach at 9pm. About the future."
I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The offer of One For All still hung between us, unresolved. After today's victory, I could no longer delay my decision.
"I'll make time," I promised.
"Excellent!" His voice returned to its booming public register. "THESE are your champions, ladies and gentlemen! The future heroes who will one day stand among us as professionals! Let us celebrate their achievement!"
The crowd roared once more as confetti cannons fired from the stadium corners, sending shimmering paper raining down over the field. The other finalists from the tournament filed onto the field—Kirishima, Manga, Tokoyami, and the others—forming a ring around the podium.
All Might stepped back, addressing all of us. "You have all shown tremendous growth today. Remember this feeling—the pride of achievement, yes, but also the hunger to improve. This is only the beginning of your journey!"