The second the final bell rang, I knew something was off.
The hallway outside Class 1-A wasn't just crowded—it was packed. Students from every course, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their eyes locked onto our door like vultures circling prey.
"The hell?" I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
Kirishima peered over my shoulder. "Uh… did we miss a memo?"
Katsuki didn't bother with questions. He shoved past us, his usual scowl deepening. "Move," he barked at the crowd.
No one moved.
A lanky kid from General Studies—purple hair, tired eyes—stepped forward, arms crossed. "You're the ones who fought real villains, huh?" His voice was flat, but there was something sharp underneath. "Must be nice, getting special treatment just because you got lucky."
Katsuki's palms crackled. "The hell did you just say?"
The kid didn't flinch. "I'm saying we're not here to scout you. We're here to warn you." His gaze flicked to me. "Especially you, Kenjiro. That stunt with the Nomu made headlines, but don't think the rest of us are just gonna roll over."
I raised a brow. "You got a name, or am I supposed to remember you as 'Salty Purple'?"
Someone in the crowd snorted.
The kid's eye twitched. "Shinsou Hitoshi. And I will take your spot in the Hero Course."
"Big words," I said, smirking. "Hope you can back them up."
Before Shinsou could retort, the crowd parted—not out of respect, but because a blond guy with a cocky grin was bulldozing his way through.
"Well, well," he drawled, stopping just short of our doorway. "This the famous Class 1-A? The villain slayers?" His sharp eyes locked onto me. "You're the one who cut that monster in half, right? Kenjiro?"
I shrugged. "Guilty as charged."
He grinned, but it wasn't friendly. "Monoma Neito. Class 1-B." He spread his arms. "I came to see what all the fuss was about, but—" His expression twisted into something mocking. "—all I see is a bunch of arrogant brats who got lucky."
Kaminari groaned. "Oh, come on—"
Jiro rolled her eyes. "Here we go."
Monoma ignored them, focusing on me. "The Sports Festival is where you prove you belong. And trust me—" His grin turned feral. "—1-B's gonna wipe the floor with you."
Katsuki snarled. "Like hell—"
"Bring it," I interrupted, grinning right back. "Wouldn't be fun if you didn't try."
Monoma's smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for me to know I'd gotten under his skin.
Then he laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, this is gonna be good."
With that, he turned and strolled off, the crowd reluctantly parting for him again.
The second the hallway cleared, Class 1-A erupted.
"Way to go, Bakugo!" Sero groaned. "Now everyone hates us!"
"Tch." Katsuki shoved his hands in his pockets. "Like I give a damn. They're just extras. And it wasn't me who said that but this Mochi freak!"
Ashido threw her hands up. "You can't just call people extras!"
"Why not?" Katsuki shot back. "They are."
Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean… he's not wrong. The Festival's about competition, right?"
Yaoyorozu sighed. "Yes, but making enemies before it starts isn't exactly strategic."
I tuned out the bickering, glancing at Izuku. The nerd was quiet, his brow furrowed like he was working through some complicated equation in his head.
"You good?" I nudged him.
He blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's just…" His gaze flicked to Katsuki, then to Tenya and Ochaco, who were already discussing training plans. "Everyone's so sure of themselves."
I snorted. "Blasty's always sure of himself. Doesn't mean he's right."
Izuku didn't smile. "But he's not wrong either. The Festival is about winning. About proving yourself." His fists clenched. "I… I can't afford to doubt myself anymore."
There it was—that spark. The same one I'd seen on the beach, back when he was breaking his bones just to keep up.
"Damn right you can't," I said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "So what's the plan, hero?"
Izuku took a deep breath—then grinned, sharp and determined. "Training. As much as I can before the Festival."
There he is.
As we left the school, the sun was already dipping low, painting the campus in gold.
Katsuki stormed ahead, muttering about "extras" and "wiping the floor with the competition."
Tenya and Ochaco walked together, their voices earnest as they discussed tactics.
And Izuku?
Izuku walked with his head high, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
I smirked.
This Festival's gonna be hell.
Can't wait.
******
The sun hung low in the sky, painting the streets in warm hues of orange and gold as Nejire and I walked side by side. Her usual boundless energy was tempered today, replaced by a rare, quiet contentment.
"So," she hummed, swinging our intertwined hands lightly between us, "think you're ready to show the whole world what you're made of in two weeks?"
I smirked. "Pretty sure the Nomu already did that for me."
She giggled, nudging me with her shoulder. "Oh, come on! The Sports Festival is way bigger than some creepy monster fight! It's your chance to shine!"
"Shine, huh?" I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the grin tugging at my lips. "I'll leave the sparkling to you."
Nejire's eyes sparkled—literally, thanks to her Quirk—as she bounced in place. "Which is why you should train with me tomorrow! The replica city district's perfect for practicing big moves!"
I sighed, already knowing resistance was futile. "Fine. But you're buying lunch after."
"Deal!" She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around my neck in a crushing hug. "It's gonna be so fun!"
I wheezed. "Nejire—can't breathe—"
She released me with a laugh, skipping ahead. "Oops! Too much love!"
Yeah. Way too much.
The rest of the walk was filled with easy chatter—about classes, about the latest hero news, about the stupidly overpriced coffee shop that had opened near campus. Normal things. Simple things.
Nejire rambled about her latest training session with Mirio and Tamaki, her hands waving animatedly as she reenacted a particularly dramatic spar. "And then BAM! Mirio went all woosh through the floor, and Tamaki just screamed—"
I snorted. "Sounds like a mess."
"The best kind of mess!" She beamed, then paused, tilting her head. "What about you? Got any secret moves you're cooking up for the Festival?"
I shrugged. "Maybe."
"Ooooh, mysterious!" She poked my cheek. "You have to show me tomorrow!"
"We'll see."
She pouted, but her eyes were alight with curiosity.
Eventually, we reached the fork in the road where we always parted ways. Nejire spun to face me, her sundress fluttering in the evening breeze.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, rocking on her heels.
"Yeah."
She grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. "Don't keep me waiting, Mochi Blade~!"
And with that, she was gone, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody.
The orphanage was alive with its usual chaos when I arrived.
Aiko spotted me first, launching herself at my legs with the force of a tiny, hyperactive missile. "Kenjiro! You're back!"
I ruffled her hair. "Miss me that much, squirt?"
"Nope!" She grinned. "But Mrs. Tanaka made curry, and we saved you some!"
"How generous," I deadpanned, following her inside.
Mrs. Tanaka greeted me with a knowing smile. "Good walk home?"
"Something like that."
The kids swarmed me as I ate, peppering me with questions about UA, the Sports Festival, and—inevitably—Nejire.
"Is she your girlfriend now?" one of the younger boys asked, eyes wide.
I flicked a grain of rice at him. "Eat your food."
Mrs. Tanaka hid a laugh behind her hand.
Later, in the quiet of my room, I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Two weeks.
Two weeks to prepare for the biggest stage of my life. My strength was on par with Nomu, my Quirk was a near-perfect replica of Katakuri's—but it wasn't enough. Not without Awakening. Not without ultimate moves.
I flexed my hand, watching as my fingers morphed briefly into mochi, then solidified again.
What can I push further?
Mochi Hammer was brute force.
Mochi Cutter was precision.
But I needed something more. Something unpredictable.
A grin tugged at my lips.
Time to get creative.
Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it brought her with it.
Nejire's laughter, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the future.
A future that, for the first time, I let myself want.