Prelude to the Festival [2]

(8 days before the Festival)

The night air was cool against my skin as I made my way to the training grounds, my mind focused on the Sports Festival.

It was that restless energy that drove me to the training grounds that night, long after the sun had set and the campus had gone quiet. I needed to move, to burn off some of the nervous excitement that buzzed beneath my skin like an electric current.

But as I approached the familiar field, I realized I wasn't alone. The sound of music reached my ears - the strum of a guitar, the haunting melody of a voice I knew as well as my own.

Kyoka.

She sat on a bench at the edge of the grounds, her eyes closed, her fingers dancing over the strings of her instrument. The song was unfamiliar, the words too low for me to make out, but the emotion behind them was clear - a bittersweet longing, a quiet sort of heartache.

I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but some sixth sense must have alerted her to my presence. Her eyes fluttered open, widening slightly as they met mine.

"Izuku. What brings you out here so late?"

I shrugged, stepping closer, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. "Couldn't sleep. Too wired about the festival, I guess. You?"

She smiled, a small, rueful thing. "Same. Thought some music might help clear my head."

I nodded, understanding. "It sounded beautiful. The song, I mean."

A flush crept up her neck, barely visible in the moonlight. "Thanks. It's... it's just something I've been working on."

I sat down beside her, careful to leave a bit of space between us. The words were there, heavy on my tongue, but I struggled to give them voice.

"Kyoka, I... there's something I need to tell you."

She looked at me, her eyes dark and knowing. "It's about you and Momo, isn't it?"

I blinked, taken aback. "How did you...?"

She shrugged, a sad little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I kind of figured. The way you two are together, the way you look at each other... it's not hard to see."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. "I'm sorry, Kyoka. I never meant to hurt you, or to lead you on. I just..."

She held up a hand, stopping me. "It's okay, Izuku. Really. I'm not... I'm not going to pretend it doesn't sting a little, but... but I get it. You two, you have something special. Something real."

She looked down at her guitar, her fingers plucking out a soft, melancholy chord. "I'm not really good at playing the 'just friends' game, but... but I'll try. For you, for Momo... I'll try."

I reached out, my hand hovering over hers for a moment before settling on her shoulder. "Thank you, Kyoka. That... that means a lot."

She looked up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Just... just promise me one thing, okay?"

I nodded, my heart in my throat.

"Be happy. Both of you. Don't... don't waste what you have, worrying about me or anyone else. Just... be happy, and love each other with everything you've got."

I squeezed her shoulder, a silent promise. "We will. I swear it."

She nodded, blinking back the tears, a wavering smile on her lips. "Good. That's... that's good."

For a moment, we sat in silence, the weight of words unspoken heavy in the air between us.

Then, with a deep breath, Kyoka straightened, her fingers finding their place on the strings once more.

"Now, unless you want to join me for an impromptu jam session, you should probably head back and get some rest. We've got a lot of training to do if we're going to be ready for the festival."

I grinned, the tension breaking, the easy camaraderie of our friendship settling back into place. "Nah, I think I'll leave the musical heroics to you. But maybe a rain check on that jam session?"

She laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. "Deal. Now get out of here before I change my mind and make you sing backup."

I held up my hands in mock surrender, backing away. "I'm going, I'm going!"

As I turned to leave, I paused, looking back at her over my shoulder. "Hey, Kyoka?"

She glanced up, eyebrow raised.

"Thank you."

Her smile was soft, understanding. "Anytime, wonder boy. Anytime."

I left her there, the soft strains of her music following me into the night.

(5 days before the Festival)

The final bell echoed through the classroom, a shrill, insistent sound that signaled the end of another long day. I stood, stretching my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying pop of my spine as the tension of hours spent hunched over a desk melted away.

Around me, my classmates chattered and laughed, the anticipatory buzz of the upcoming sports festival infecting the air. Uraraka bounded to the door, her perpetual smile wide and bright as she reached for the handle.

But as the door slid open, her smile faltered, morphing into an expression of shocked confusion.

"What the... why are you all here?"

Curious, I craned my neck, trying to see past the press of bodies blocking the doorway. What I saw made my eyebrows climb towards my hairline.

A sea of students, a mob of unfamiliar faces, all staring back at us with a mix of curiosity, apprehension, and something else, something harder to define. Challenge, perhaps. Or envy.

Iida stepped forward, his hand chopping the air in that signature robotic motion. "Excuse me, but do you have business with Class 1-A?"

Bakugo scoffed, shouldering his way to the front of the group, his perpetual scowl etched deep into his features. "Isn't it obvious, Four Eyes? They're here to scope out the competition. We're the class that survived a real villain attack. Of course they want a peek at the goods."

He paused, his crimson eyes sweeping over the assembled students. "Take a good, long look, extras. This is what real future pros look like. Now beat it, you're blocking the damn door."

Stepping forward, I put on my most disarming smile. "What my friend means to say," I began, "is that we'd greatly appreciate it if you could clear a path. We've had a long day and we're eager to be on our way."

For a moment, the crowd seemed to waver, some of the students shifting uncomfortably under the force of my genial grin. But then, from the depths of the throng, a new voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

"So this is the great Class 1-A," it drawled. "I have to say, I'm underwhelmed. You sound more like a bunch of self-important blowhards than future heroes."

The crowd parted, revealing the speaker. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of indigo hair that fell into piercing purple eyes. His gaze was fixed on Bakugo, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Bakugo bristled, his hands clenching into fists, miniature explosions popping in his palms. But before he could lunge forward, I placed a hand on his chest, holding him back with a warning look.

The purple-haired student continued, undeterred by the smoke rising from Bakugo's hands. "I wanted to be in the hero course, you know. But like many of us here, I was shunted aside, forced onto a different path." His eyes narrowed, his smirk sharpening into something colder, more calculating. "But that's the thing about paths. They can change. Shift. Realign."

He took a step forward, the crowd parting before him like water. "The sports festival is a chance for us to prove ourselves. To show that we're just as worthy of the hero course as any of you. And if we do well enough, they'll have to make room."

Another step, bringing him nearly nose to nose with me. "And to make room... some of you will have to be moved out."

A murmur ran through the crowd at his words, a ripple of unease and anticipation. The purple-haired student's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with challenge.

"So consider this a declaration of war, Class 1-A. If you don't bring your absolute best to the festival, I'll be more than happy to take your spot. And I won't be the only one."

For a heartbeat, the air seemed to crackle with tension, with the weight of the gauntlet thrown down between us. Then, slowly, I felt my own mouth curve into a smile. Not the practiced, disarming grin from before, but something sharper. Something fiercer.

A smile with teeth.

"Is that so?" I asked, my voice deceptively mild. "Well then, by all means. Give it your best shot."

I leaned forward, my eyes boring into his, my smile never wavering. "But let me give you a little warning of my own. We're Class 1-A. We didn't survive that villain attack by luck or by chance. We survived because we're the best of the best. Because we've been training and pushing ourselves to the brink every single day."

I let my gaze sweep over the crowd, taking in the sea of uncertain faces, the shifting stances and darting eyes. "You think you can take our spots? You think you can match us, can surpass us?" I chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You're welcome to try. But you better come with more than just big talk. Because we won't be pulling any punches."

I took a step back, letting my smile soften, letting some of the steel drain from my voice. "The path of a hero is never easy. It's a constant struggle, a never-ending climb. And we're already well ahead on that climb." I shrugged, the motion casual, almost lazy. "But if you think you can catch up... well, the sports festival is your chance to prove it."

I turned, making to step through the doorway. But before I could, a hand caught my arm. It was Kirishima.

"Hey, Midoriya, are you sure about this? I mean, shouldn't we try to defuse the situation? You are our class rep..."

I patted his hand, my smile turning reassuring. "Defuse what? They issued a challenge, and we accepted. That's all there is to it."

Bakugo laughed, already pushing his way through the crowd, his shoulders squared and his chin high. "The only thing that matters is that I'm going to crush them. And any of you that get in my way."

I shook my head, chuckling under my breath as I followed him through the path he'd cleared. But as I reached the edge of the crowd, I paused, turning back to lock eyes with the purple-haired student once more.

"Oh, and one more thing," I called out, my voice carrying clear over the murmur of the crowd. "It's Izuku Midoriya. Remember that name. Because it's the one that's going to be on everyone's lips after the festival."

With that, I turned and strode away, my head held high, my steps sure and steady.

(Night Before the Festival)

The floor of my room was cool against my back, a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind of my thoughts. The movie playing on my laptop was little more than background noise, the flickering images and muffled dialogue drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the electric hum of anticipation coursing through my veins.

Tomorrow. The sports festival. The stage where I would prove myself, where I would show the world what Izuku Midoriya was made of.

A gentle tug on my hair pulled me from my reverie. I tilted my head back, my eyes meeting Momo's. She sat on my bed, her legs framing my shoulders, her fingers threading through my curls in a soothing, rhythmic motion.

"Nervous?"

I let out a shaky laugh. "That, and excited."

Her lips quirked, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I am too. But it's understandable. Tomorrow is a big day."

I hummed in agreement, leaning into her touch, letting the warmth of her presence, the gentle scrape of her nails against my scalp, anchor me in the moment.

A thought struck me, sudden and urgent. I sat up, reaching for my phone, my fingers already dialing the familiar number.

The call connected on the second ring. "Izuku, my boy! I was just thinking about you."

I smiled, the familiar gravel of Sensei Kuro's voice settling something in my chest. "Sensei, I wanted to check - did you receive the tickets I sent? For the festival tomorrow?"

A warm chuckle crackled through the line. "I did indeed. Quite the prime seats, too. I'll have the best view in the house when you take that gold medal."

"I'll do my best to make that a reality, Sensei."

"I know you will, my boy. I've never doubted it for a second. Remember what I said, to whom much has been given…"

I smiled, replying "Much is expected."

We talked for a few more minutes, Sensei Kuro offering words of encouragement and last-minute advice. By the time we said our goodbyes, I felt steadier, more centered, the whirlwind of my thoughts calmed to a manageable breeze.

But there was one more call to make. I dialed the number from memory, my heart quickening at the sound of my mother's voice.

"Izuku, honey!"

"Hey, Mom. I just wanted to check - did you and Auntie Mitsuki get the suite tickets from Principal Nezu?"

The excitement in her voice was palpable, crackling through the line like static. "We did! Oh, Izuku, I can't wait to see you out there tomorrow. My baby, showing the world what he's made of!"

I ducked my head, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up my neck. "I wouldn't want anyone else cheering me on, Mom. Knowing you're there... it means everything."

A pause, heavy with unspoken emotion. Then, a sly note creeping into her tone. "So, is Momo there with you?"

I blinked, glancing up at Momo. She raised an eyebrow, curiosity and a hint of apprehension on her features.

I shrugged, hitting the speaker button. "Yeah, she's here. Mom says hi, by the way."

Momo leaned forward, a tentative smile on her lips. "Hello, Mrs. Midoriya. It's nice to, um, hear from you."

A delighted gasp from the other end of the line. "Momo, dear! How wonderful to speak with you again. I do hope my son is behaving himself?"

Momo's eyes widened, a flush staining her cheeks. "Oh, yes, of course. Izuku is always a perfect gentleman."

I smirked, waggling my eyebrows at her. She swatted at my shoulder, her blush deepening.

"Actually, Momo," my mother continued, her tone turning serious, "could I speak with you privately for a moment?"

Momo's brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Of course, Mrs. Midoriya."

I handed her the phone, mouthing a silent "good luck" as she pressed it to her ear and stepped out into the bathroom.

For the next few minutes, I could hear the murmur of their voices, too low to make out the words. But I could see Momo through the crack in the door, could watch the play of emotions across her face - surprise, embarrassment, a flustered sort of joy that made my heart skip a beat.

When she finally returned, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with a secret sort of happiness. She handed me the phone, avoiding my gaze as she sat back down on the bed.

"What was that about?"

She shook her head, a small, shy smile on her lips. "Just... girl talk. Nothing to worry about."

I raised an eyebrow, but let it go. If it was important, she'd tell me in her own time.

The movie had long since ended, the laptop screen gone dark. I closed it, setting it aside, suddenly feeling the weight of the day, the anticipation of tomorrow, heavy on my eyelids.

"Stay with me tonight?" I asked, patting the space beside me on the bed. "I sleep better when you're here."

"Izuku, you know I want to. But... not tonight. We both need to be at our best tomorrow, and we both know we wouldn't get much sleep if I stayed."

"You're right, as usual."

She leaned in, her lips soft and warm against mine. I breathed her in, the scent of her shampoo, the gentle caress of her fingers in my hair, committing every detail to memory.

"Goodnight, Izuku," she whispered against my mouth. "Dream of victory. I know I will."

And then she was gone, slipping out the door and into the darkened hallway, leaving me alone with the pounding of my heart and the determination burning in my veins.

Tomorrow. The sports festival. The day I would show the world what Izuku Midoriya was made of.

For my mother, who'd always believed in me.

For Sensei Kuro, who'd taught me what it meant to be strong.

For Momo, who made me want to be a hero worthy of her love.

For myself, for the dream I'd chased for two lives.

I closed my eyes, a smile on my lips. The pieces were in place. The stage was set.

And come morning, when the lights blazed bright and the crowd roared my name...

I would be ready. Ready to reach out and seize my destiny with both hands.

Ready to win, to claim my place among the legends.

Ready to show the world what it meant to go beyond.

Plus ultra, as the saying went.

And I intended to take it to the max.