Chapter Text
“Finally! Eijiro Kirishima has won the arm wrestling match, which means he advances to the next round!”
The crowd cheered for the red-haired student, who raised his aching arm in a show of victory. It was a well-earned one, albeit incredibly long and tedious. The arm-wrestling portion alone took up more time than his and Tetsutetsu’s actual fight. Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if half the cheers were out of relief that it was finally over and they could move on to the next fight.
Izuku also fell into that camp, loath as he was to admit it. After the first five minutes, he ran out of things to take notes on. Both combatants held very simple Quirks applied in a very simple manner - that being to bash their entire selves against the problem until it went away. Innovation seemed like a foreign concept to them, which he figured wouldn’t get them very far in the tournament, or their hero careers in general.
‘But that’s what I’m here for,’ he reminded himself. Or rather, continued reminding himself. All his life, he dreamed about attending UA and being part of the Sports Festival, and now he finally had… but as part of the management course.
Even after all this time, it was still a tough pill to swallow. He should’ve figured; dreams don’t die easily, they go out kicking and screaming, and that was especially the case for him. It’d been nearly a year since he committed to this path, and the sense of longing still bubbled up from time to time, especially when he got to see the hero students in action.
That made today especially difficult for him…
He shook his head, forcefully shoving the negative thoughts away. It’s not like the management course was all bad. Quite the opposite, actually. He was working to help people, to help heroes be better at their jobs. He wasn’t giving up on his dream, he was compromising on it! All he needed was to find a hero student to help, someone to devote all his time and attention toward. Once he had that, he could truly start making a difference.
Maybe then he’d finally be able to move on.
“Now it’s time for our next match!” Present Mic’s announcement cut through his thoughts, helping to focus his attention toward the arena at the center of the stadium, notebook and pen at the ready. “Another 1-A vs 1-B showdown! Will Katsuki Bakugo blow past the competition yet again, or will Togaru Kamakiri prove to be the sharpest tool in the shed? Let’s find out!”
Izuku fought back a shiver at the mention of Katsuki. He knew for a fact he’d never accept his help. And honestly, he wasn’t sure if he even deserved it.
“So, what do you think about this one?” A familiar voice spoke up beside him: Komako Masu, president of Class 1-F - a somewhat plain-looking individual with dark green, slicked back hair and a pair of round spectacles adorning their face.
Izuku kept his mouth shut, knowing he wasn’t the one being addressed. Instead, a boy with swirl-shaped blush marks on his cheeks spoke up - Ronaudo Keage, if he remembered correctly. “65/35. Odds heavily favoring Bakugo,” he said with relative certainty, likely due to his statistics-based Quirk. Even now, his attention was more focused on crunching numbers in his calculator than on the match itself.
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” From his side, a larger, slightly pudgier boy with an odd beehive haircut excitedly pumped his arms. “I got fifty thousand yen riding on him! And that’s just the beginning…”
“Futo, Futo, Futo,” Komako playfully tutted at him. “You can’t seriously be deciding on a client right now, when the tournament basically just started.”
“Given all odds, Todoroki has a better chance at winning than Bakugo,” Ronaudo spoke up, his voice level.
Futo loudly rolled his eyes at them. “Pshhh! Like I don’t already know that! But need I remind you that Todoroki is Endeavor’s son? If he wants a manager, he’s got access to the best ones in Japan.”
“Okay, yeah. You got a point.” Komako shrugged their shoulders.
“Now Bakugo on the other hand, he’s got that raw, unfiltered talent. I’ve got an eye for that kinda stuff, y’know. He’s got the makings of a future top pro, and guess who’s gonna be there to capitalize on it?” His smug, holier-than-thou smile pointed his friends toward the correct answer.
Komako didn’t buy it. “If he’s as great as you say, then what makes you think he’s gonna make you of all people his manager?”
“Especially when your test scores fall below the class average,” Ronaudo casually roasted Futo, unable to stop a frustrated flush from breaking out across his face.
“It’s not about grades, dingus! It’s about smooth words, confidence, charming your way to the top! Everyone’s got an ego, you just gotta know the right way to stroke it.”
Futo had a point there, Izuku would admit. There’s nothing Katsuki liked more than being treated like the future number one hero he saw himself as. Unless he thought he was looking down on you, in which case you’d be better off avoiding him at all costs.
Izuku felt the urge to warn him of that fact, but found his teeth biting his tongue before any words could come out. While those three may have been his classmates, he struggled to call them friends by any stretch of the imagination. They were more like… a group of people who sometimes existed in the same vicinity as him. They might not treat him like dirt like his old classmates, but he doubted they’d listen to anything he had to say, so he didn’t say anything.
“Kinda feel bad for the other guy though. He’s probably about to get smoked.” Futo’s gaze switched over to the other side of the arena, where Katsuki’s opponent stood.
“Oh yeah… What was his Quirk again?” Komako asked out loud.
Izuku didn’t know, himself, a rarity for him. Through the general chaos of the first two rounds, both with dozens of students to keep track of, some things were bound to slip through the cracks. He knew Kamakiri was on a team with the pony girl (whatever her name was) during the second round, but he didn’t make much of an impression beyond that.
He figured now was the time to rectify that. Leaning forward in his seat, he focused all his attention on Kamakiri, studying him like an insect in a terrarium. An apt comparison, not just because of his Quirk, but due to being confined to an enclosed space with a like-minded individual.
From a bird’s eye view, both Katsuki and Kamakiri looked to be cut from the same cloth, from their wide, attention-grabbing stances to their dangerous auras spilling out into the crowd, too large to be contained within the arena.
Izuku, however, was able to get a much closer look, thanks in part to UA students being granted front row seats. His attention was drawn to Kamakiri’s distinctive face and the undistinctive expression he wore. The scowl he wore was one of determination, in the same vein as Katsuki’s. Yet unlike his former friend, he failed to spot any hostility in the other boy’s eyes, the kind that had grown to define Katsuki’s image for many.
The match hadn’t even begun, and Izuku’s curiosity was already piqued. The broad strokes may have been the same, but the finer details made for a world of difference.
At least… that’s what Izuku hoped. He knew he was about to find out when Midnight cracked her whip, and the two combatants rushed toward each other with equal willingness to tear the other apart. Quite literally in Kamakiri’s case, his Quirk summoning a blade from his arm, tearing through his tracksuit’s sleeve in order to strike at Katsuki.
Already, Izuku could tell how Kamakiri fought: big strikes in wide arcs in order to inflict the most damage possible. It’d be like if Katsuki put his all into every explosion he dished out.
Except he didn’t, and there was an obvious reason for that. As Kamakiri tried to attack, throwing blade after blade from both arms, Katsuki managed to dodge all of them. They were far too slow. Far too predictable. It was as if Kamakiri was fighting with a large, bulky claymore, when what he really had was comparable to a swift, aerodynamic cutlass.
As Izuku expected, it wasn’t long before Katsuki had the upper hand, landing an explosion on Kamakiri’s side that allowed him to pin the other boy to the ground. The match was called in the blond’s favor, and Kamakiri’s face remained marred with frustration as he sulked off.
Izuku couldn’t blame him. If he was trying to show off his skills during the match, he hadn’t done the best job. But there was a silver lining, even if he didn’t realize it, because he had just managed to spark Izuku’s interest.
Sure, there were plenty of students with interesting Quirks and cool mutations, Kamakiri wasn’t alone in that regard, but none of them radiated as much raw potential in Izuku’s eyes. Say what you want about Katsuki, but Izuku still admired his skills and abilities. With proper guidance, Kamakiri could grow to match, or even surpass that skill!
But that just begged the question: could Izuku provide the guidance needed to reach that point? Thinking about it made him want to shrivel up in his seat, his self-doubt issues rearing their ugly head. That didn’t mean he would back down, though. He couldn’t back down! This was what he signed up for!
In times like these, all he could do was hope for the best and prepare for the worst, and so he opened up his notebook and started a new section on one Togaru Kamakiri, hoping the hero student would be privy to his advice.