Chapter Text
Firefly snorted as we passed the rolled-up arena door. Her warm breath was visible for a moment and then vanished into the thick fog outside. The show arena, just a few metres away, was invisible in the white vapour. I hoped that it would rise before the show started. The dampness it would leave behind wasn’t ideal, but at least we’d be able to see our lines and takeoff points.
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was an hour and a half past sunrise and two hours since I’d woken up. After spending most of that time grooming the horses until they almost shone, and making sure that all our show turnout was on and properly tidy, we were just starting to warm up.
The arena was noisy with the 19 other horses and riders, pounding hooves in the dirt or talking. There was music playing through the sound system, quiet enough to not drown out Mr. Aizawa, but loud enough to keep us all awake. I didn’t need the extra help for that, though. I was too nervous. With my stomach tying itself into knots and my heart pounding all through the night, I was surprised that I’d gotten any sleep at all. Then I’d woken up before my alarm and been the first to the barn, following the dirt lane by memory since I couldn’t see the building until it was right in front of me.
The entire last year of my life had led up to this moment. All of Mr. Yagi’s training and all the competitions might end up being for nothing if I couldn’t finish the qualifiers with a high enough ranking. If I didn’t, I’d be expelled from U.A.’s horsemanship program and that would be the end. Of course, I could always work hard and save up and maybe one day I’d be able to afford a horse - but how long would that take? Everyone else could be successful equestrians by then and I’d be starting from the bottom, again. After getting this far, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go through it all a second time.
“Hey, Midoriya?”
I blinked and realized that I’d been riding on autopilot, with Firefly doing all the work to keep from colliding with anyone else as we circled the arena. The garage door was already coming up on our right, again. And Ochaco Uraraka had appeared on our left.
“You were doing that muttering thing again,” she said, cheeks slightly flushed as she grinned.
“I was? I’m sorry!” I said, turning to her. Fly began to step into Uraraka’s mount, Starmaker, and I adjusted my balance to bring my mare back on track. We passed the door and I noticed that the fog had cleared enough that I could see blue sky overhead.
“Don’t worry about it,” Uraraka said. “I just don’t want you getting distracted when it’s time to jump.”
“Right.”
“Are you not going to take your own advice?” Shoto Todoroki asked calmly, coming up on Uraraka’s other side. “ ‘Don’t overthink it and just ride.’ That’s what you said.”
“Oh, Uno reverse on Midoriya!” Uraraka said.
I looked at her with confusion, mirrored in the frowns of Todoroki and Tenya Iida, who had joined us.
“You know, the card game. Todoroki turned Midoriya’s advice back on him, like a reverse in Uno.”
“Well, it’s very good advice,” Iida said in his deep, measured voice.
“Oh, nevermind,” Uraraka said. “Let’s just all agree to do our best, right?”
“Of course,” Iida said. “And we should be riding in single file. We’re taking up too much space this way.”
He urged Ingenium into a trot and pulled ahead of us. Todoroki followed him a moment later, while I tugged on the reins to bring Fly back and let Uraraka go ahead. She moved into the spot but didn’t start trotting. I watched her go from nudging Star’s sides with her heels to giving full-on kicks. The gelding trotted for a couple of paces, then settled into a fast walk.
“Um, do you have a crop?” I called up. A few of our classmates passed us.
“Oh, yeah! I usually forget that I’m holding it!”
“Try using it, then keep pressure on his sides,” I said.
“Okay.”
Uraraka tapped Star’s shoulder with the crop generously, but the lazy bay horse ignored her until she finally gave him a true hit. Then he performed a tiny jump and strode into a trot. Uraraka pushed her heels into his sides and found her posting rhythm, rising and falling with the movement of Star’s right shoulder.
I urged Fly into a trot. Iida and Todoroki had nearly lapped us by that point, and Kacchan gave me a hate-filled glare as he passed on Zero, as if the slow pace was my fault. I gulped. I’d never beaten him in a competition before. Not that there’d been many chances. But could I do it now, when it mattered the most?
“Alright,” Mr. Aizawa called out. “Everyone line up at E, according to your order of go.”
I turned Fly into the center of the arena and asked her to stop, then waited for Koda to get in line before I did. Our order of go was just our surnames, alphabetized, which made it easy to remember. Even so, there was an erratic shuffle to line up. Iida left the group to try and direct everyone, swinging his long arms methodically, although most people didn’t seem to be paying attention.
It still took only a couple of minutes before Creati and her rider, Momo Yaoyorozu were taking their place at the end of the line, and Mr. Aizawa was calling us one by one to take the jumps set up in the center of the arena.
It was a simple combination of two jumps, each set at 3 feet high. Counting strides in between would be important.
Everyone began clearing the jumps without any issues, and I felt my stomach turn over again. The entire class was so good, all with nearly flawless equestrianism and horse-rider connection. And most of them had been riding for years, much longer than I had. I’d known from the first day that I’d need to compete not only with my friends but with some top tier equestrians, but now that it was actually happening, I was beginning to doubt if I could do it.
I watched Kacchan and Ground Zero canter along the far side of the arena, in perfect sync. They cleared each jump with room to spare, as usual.
Shortly after, Iida followed with another perfect performance, showing a clear connection with Ingenium as he moved with his horse.
By the time my turn came, Firefly was nearly asleep on her feet, her whole body relaxed beneath my tense one. When Mr. Aizawa waved me ahead, I took a couple of deep breaths and focused on loosening up so that I could follow Fly’s motion. As I urged her into a canter, I let myself move with her strides, making sure not to sit stiffly in the saddle. Her right leg was already stretching further than her left with each step, so at least I didn’t need to change the lead.
I watched the end of the arena as we ran down the wall, then pivoted to guide her into the corner. Back beside the door, I finally felt warm sunlight on my side. But my horse and I were still bending into the turn, lining up to the jumps. I reminded myself to look at the far end of the arena, felt my horse’s muscles coil, and let the forward motion of her takeoff carry me into the half-standing, half-crouching jumping position for a second.
Then we landed on the other side of the obstacle, and I asked her to switch her lead to her left hoof for two strides. We took off slightly early for the next jump but got over it.
I turned back to the far wall, then took an early corner towards the center of the arena, leaving space for Takeoff and his rider, Mashirao Ojiro, to canter past.
Iida had ridden Ingenium out of the way of the first jump, and I joined them. We congratulated each other’s practices, then silently watched the rest of our class take the jumps. Todoroki joined us after his own perfect performance, smiling slightly.
Then it was Uraraka’s turn.
Starmaker balked at the first jump and made it sloppy, then refused the second. I frowned. She needed to do as well as I did if she wanted to stay at the school.
Mr. Aizawa said nothing and his face was unreadable. But Uraraka made the right choice, to circle near us. I noticed her crop was almost dangling from her hand and couldn’t help but whisper, “Crop,” as she passed us. Uraraka gave me a wide-eyed look but finished her circle. On the second jump, she tapped the stick to Star’s shoulder when he balked at her heel. He jumped sloppily again.
“Try it again,” Mr. Aizawa said.
Uraraka’s face turned pink but she turned back to the wall and returned to the jumps. This time, she used the crop along with her leg pressure on both jumps and Star begrudgingly took them at a bit of a slow pace. At least he got over both.
Mr. Aizawa nodded and called Yaoyorozu forward.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Uraraka said breathlessly as she joined the rest of us. Her brown bangs were starting to stick to her sweaty forehead.
“You’re welcome.”
“My old instructor was really insistent on the crop being used as a last resort, but I guess I took that to mean never. Oh man, my legs are killing me.”
“You should do some stretches while we wait for the show to begin,” Iida said.
“Right.”
When Yaoyorozu finished her practice, Mr. Aizawa told us to wait until our numbers were called to head out to the arena. Another staff member would be coming in soon to supervise us if we wanted to practice any more. Then he left us to warm up.
The fog was completely burned off by then, leaving behind water that was clinging to the edges of the open arena door and dripping from the roof. But at least the sun was shining bright, revealing the show ring, the gathering crowd, and the mountains that overlooked U.A.’s campus.
It wouldn’t be long until I competed. I just had to keep from overthinking it all.