The announcement of the U.A. Sports Festival instantly changed the air in Class 1-A. The atmosphere, which had been colored by a shared relief and trauma after the USJ incident, now crackled with a new, sharp, and competitive energy. Everyone suddenly had a clear new goal: to shine on the biggest stage in Japan. All around me, I could see the fire of determination ignite in my classmates' eyes. They trained harder, pushed their Quirks to new limits, and formed small groups to debate strategy. For me, the announcement felt like a sledgehammer striking the foundation of confidence I had only just begun to build.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, staring at my bedroom ceiling, with one question spinning in my head: How do I win a war without my main weapon? The Sports Festival wasn't a life-or-death battle like the USJ. There would be no mortal threat to forcibly trigger Incursio. It was a series of games designed to showcase the power, speed, and creativity of Quirks in front of millions of viewers and countless pro heroes. I, the first-ranked student from the entrance exam, would be exposed as ordinary. My reputation, built on a single, accidental explosion of power, would be shattered.
Frustration gnawed at me, but then, the mind from my former life took over. I wasn't a fighter who relied solely on power. I was an analyst. I got out of bed, turned on my computer, and began my research. For hours, I studied recordings of the U.A. Sports Festivals from previous years. I dissected every event: the Obstacle Race, the Cavalry Battle, and the One-on-One Tournament. I noted patterns, analyzed winning strategies, and looked for loopholes. The conclusion I reached gave me a glimmer of hope. Yes, raw power was a huge advantage. But it wasn't everything. The festival also tested intelligence, adaptability, and a deep understanding of the rules of the game. This wasn't a war of raw strength; it was a complex game of chess. And in a game of chess, a cunning strategist can defeat a powerful king. My mind, my analysis—that was my real "Quirk" for this event.
With this new perspective, I completely overhauled my training regimen for the next two weeks. My focus shifted from simply building raw strength to building explosive power and endurance for a long competition. My morning runs became a series of brutal interval sprints to improve my acceleration. My parkour training became more daring, honing my agility and my ability to navigate unpredictable terrain. I spent hours training my reactions and my balance. I had to turn my body into a perfect tool, capable of executing any strategy my mind designed.
Of course, I wasn't alone in my preparations. "You're going to make yourself sick if you keep this up!" Toru scolded one afternoon as we trained in the park. She had become an invaluable training partner. Using her invisibility, she would try to touch me from various angles, forcing me to sharpen my hearing and my spatial awareness to an inhuman degree.
"I have to be faster," I said, gasping for breath, dodging one of her invisible "attacks."
"You're already fast!" she retorted, her voice coming from my right. Suddenly I felt a light touch on my left shoulder. Damn it. She got me again. "But I can still touch you!"
"That's because you cheat," I complained with a laugh. "You have no shadow or footsteps."
"It's called using a strategic asset!" she replied cheerfully. Her light presence and unwavering support were the perfect counterbalance to my dark intensity. She was a reminder that in the midst of all this pressure, I still had a friend.
Besides physical training, I also needed strategic ammunition. For that, I knew exactly who to see. I found Momo Yaoyorozu in the vast, quiet school library a few days before the festival. She sat alone, surrounded by stacks of books on quantum physics and biochemistry. She looked completely in her element.
"Excuse me, Yaoyorozu," I said quietly.
She looked up, her intelligent eyes immediately focusing on me. "Tatsumi-san. Can I help you with something?"
"Actually, yes," I said, sitting across from her. I pulled out my notebook. "I wanted to get your opinion on some strategic analysis for the festival."
A flash of interest ignited in her eyes. I laid out my research, showing her the patterns I'd found in previous events. She listened intently, then took my notebook and began adding her own insights, pointing out variables I had missed and providing chemical perspectives on how some Quirks could interact with the environment.
"Todoroki-san is the biggest threat in the one-on-one tournament," she said, drawing a diagram. "His combination of ice and fire gives him unparalleled area control and the ability to regulate his own body temperature, negating the drawback of overusing his ice."
"But that's also his weakness," I countered, pointing to her diagram. "He's incredibly reluctant to use his fire side. There's an internal conflict there, likely related to his father, Endeavor. It's a psychological weakness that could be exploited if an opponent could force him out of his comfort zone."
Momo looked at me, slightly surprised by my psychological analysis. "That is… a very sharp point."
Our discussion continued, dissecting the strengths and weaknesses of our classmates with cold, objective detail. We were two surgeons preparing for a complex operation. The mutual respect between us grew with every hypothesis we debated. We may have had different approaches, but we shared the same language: the language of strategy.
In the midst of all this external preparation, I hadn't forgotten my internal struggle. I continued my new approach to communicating with Incursio. Every night, I would sit in total silence, meditating. I no longer demanded or pleaded. I just sat quietly, reached inward, and tried to feel its presence. I pictured it not as a weapon, but as a sleeping partner, a tired dragon curled up in my soul. I sent out feelings of understanding, not desperation.
For days, there was no response. Just silence and a faint warmth. But then, one night, something different happened. As I was in a deep meditative state, focusing on the feeling of partnership, I felt a response. It wasn't a burst of power. It was something far more subtle. The heat in my chest pulsed gently, a slow, steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. Thump-thump… thump-thump… It was the first time it had responded with anything other than silence or pain. It was an acknowledgment. A whisper in the darkness that said, 'I am here.' I couldn't control it. I couldn't awaken it. But for the first time, I felt that I wasn't alone in my own body. Hope, for the first time, felt real.
The day of the Sports Festival arrived with overwhelming splendor. The giant stadium was packed with tens of thousands of cheering spectators. Media cameras hovered in the air like metallic dragonflies. The pressure and expectation felt like a physical weight in the air. In the Class 1-A waiting room, the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Iida was trying to give a pep talk, Kirishima was trying to pump everyone up, and Bakugo sat in a corner, radiating a murderous aura so thick it made others keep their distance.
Suddenly, the door opened and Todoroki entered. He walked straight past everyone and stopped in front of Midoriya. "From an objective standpoint, I am clearly stronger than you," Todoroki said in a cold voice. "But All Might has his eye on you. I'm not about to pry into that. Just know that I will be beating you."
The blunt declaration of war silenced the room. As Todoroki walked away, it was Bakugo's turn. He came over to me, his gaze piercing.
"Whatever trick you used in the entrance exam, it won't work here, Number One," he growled. "In front of the whole world, I'm going to prove you're a fraud and that I'm the strongest."
I looked at him calmly, unintimidated. I let him finish his rant, then replied in a quiet but steady voice. "Then prove it, Bakugo. I'll be waiting for you in the finals."
My quiet confidence, coming from someone who seemingly had no reliable Quirk, seemed to enrage him even more. He let out a snort before turning away.
"ALL FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS, PLEASE PREPARE! IT'S TIME TO ENTER THE ARENA!" Present Mic's voice boomed from the speakers.
We all got up and walked toward the tunnel leading to the field. I walked among my classmates, each of them a monster of power in their own right. I didn't have explosions. I didn't have ice. I didn't have engines in my legs. All I had was a body I had forged to its limits, a mind filled with strategy, and the faint, sleeping heartbeat of a dragon in my chest. I took a deep breath, feeling the bright light of the stadium at the end of the tunnel. The world was watching. And I was ready to give them a show.