Chapter 25: Sunlit Demigods
Nighteye stared, stiff and silent as the email's contents registered. It'd been a routine day until then. As always, it started with training. A morning workout for himself, then a few hours drilling Izuku; as a special bonus, he observed the Tokage girl's exploits with Sorahiko. Despite her presence, it'd been an efficient, simple day.
Following that, he'd taken Izuku to Shimisuka. From there, he made his way to his office, arriving around one.
He settled into his chair for the long haul. Today wasn't a patrol day, and that meant he dedicated the day to reports, intercommunication, and research. It was grueling work, but with the help of Centipeder, it was manageable. The man was a godsend, handling all the finances and legal work; it sliced Nighteye's duties in half, freeing him up for what was important. He'd taken more and more time off for the sake of cultivating the next generation, and he needed the help to stay ahead of the curve.
So, when he'd opened up his computer, he'd expected a manageable disaster. Seeing today's emails listed in a stack with four digits wasn't out of the ordinary, and today was no exception. A quarter of those all happened to be from Centipeder, asking about this and that. It was all very routine; nothing stood out at a glance.
What made him choke on his coffee was the email from Nedzu.
It wasn't just the fact that his old principle was messaging him. This wouldn't be the first time they'd spoken in the last years; the creature was a notorious busybody and liked to have a toe in every business, in every agency. No, what had him shocked was the simple subject line, boldened for emphasis.
He read it again, his eyes drinking in every word. Clicking on it revealed another exciting revelation; the message was two-parted, simple, and groundbreaking all at once. The subject line by itself was a magnificent surprise, to be sure. An announcement of that scale was unheard of.
Schools didn't do that lightly. Of course, they could experiment and try new learning techniques, but this was a rather large change to the established norm. U.A. was the gold standard, and seeing them make such a drastic pivot would be a substantial signal to the other schools: get with the program, or fall behind.
Beyond that, however, it represented something a little unnerving. To have received the email himself was a revelation in it of itself. If he'd been a lesser hero, perhaps he would've taken the second part at face value, and assumed it'd been mass-sent to every veteran hero in the country.
Nighteye was anything except first-rate, however, and saw right through it. It was Nedzu showing his hand. This was a targeted email to Nighteye personally, and that meant the rat knew. More than he should've.
One more time, he read the email, making sure he didn't miss a word.
…
Hello! From here on out, U.A. will be expanding its hero course!
Greetings to all who received this message. This has not been an easy decision for our school, and has been hotly debated in recent years since the passing of our Magnum Alumni, the hero All Might. Finally, however, our board has conceded to our whims and thus allowed the expansion of our offered courses. This decision will be publicly announced in the coming week, but here at U.A., we have taken the liberty of alerting those it may concern early.
For far too long, our hopeful students have received poor luck in the face of our entrance exams. Non-combatants have faced severe adversity at even our easiest tests, and for that we are sorry. In addition, many of our hopeful illustrious recommended students lose their hard-earned privilege in the face of our four best performers. Upon noting this, we have decided that only guaranteeing space for the highest scorers is a restrictive, limiting practice that will no longer have a place in our school.
An admiral performance should not be punished because another star shone a single lumen brighter. Thus, we have rehauled our recommended exams. The the changes…
Shall remain a mystery. Let it be known that simply being an individual in power will no longer be enough to be admitted into our new recommended test. To be such a candidate, you must have a recommendation from a hero with a license of at least five years. Avenues of contact will be made for students without such resources who believe they are up to snuff.
Should such an exceptional student meet our high standards, they shall be collected into our new elevated-track class, 1Z.
I bid all acting, retired, and part time heroes a bountiful new year. Good hunting, Superheroes, and Plus Ultra!
…
Nighteye sighed, pulling off his glasses. He cleaned them with the hem of his suit, hoping that when he put them back on, the email would appear less dramatic. It didn't work.
Class 1Z, huh? Most hero schools followed U.A.'s example of two hero classes, succeeded by adjacent careers in support and business. He wondered how Shiketsu would react.
It was exciting and nerve-wracking all in one. It threw a wrench in his plans, for one; Foresight hadn't seen this, nor had he predicted it himself. It surprised him, that way. Many things came to him easily, like he was old friends with new obstacles. Today was a rare day in which life utterly surprised him, leaving him asking questions he hadn't before.
Was Izuku ready? What kind of changes would the recommended test make? Was it going to be more difficult?
Who was he kidding? It was Nedzu. If it wasn't at least twice as complicated, then it wouldn't be worth it for him. Nighteye chewed on his lip, thinking. With this bomb dropped, he'd have to reevaluate Izuku's training regimen.
He'd just counted on Izuku and Shoto being the recommended students for 1A. Perhaps, if the Tokage girl was good enough, she'd also make it into 1B's recommendation. Shouta Aizawa may have been underground, but Nighteye was very familiar with the man.
Eraserhead had been the teacher of 1A for four years, and for good reason. Not only was the man capable, smart, and down to earth, but his power was perfect. There was a reason there were only two hero classes. The difference between them was volatility. 1A students always had the more bombastic, harder-to-control quirks, and that made Erasure perfect. If a student ever had a fit, he could just shut the child off before they hurt anyone.
It was perfect for Izuku; for what it was worth, the boy was quite efficient, but his control was flimsy. Should he push himself too far, One for All was liable to act out. Blackwhip was the prime example—Izuku may have been able to somewhat tame it over the last year, but it was still a danger when he lost focus. That wasn't the only problem though, a million other things could go wrong…
There was no question in his mind that Izuku should join 1Z. The boy was far more capable than the average first year, and one day he'd be an absolute powerhouse. Still, the thought of consequently losing Aizawa as a resource disturbed him.
His mind was absent as he closed the email, his fingers exploring the rest of his messages with muscle-memory. His mind never registered the bills nor the Commission's alerts, and his eyes glossed over any scammers like they didn't exist. His hands replied to each accordingly, but his heart wasn't in it; he could only hope he didn't make a mistake.
Hours passed as he cleared the morning's workload, unsure what to do next. The Crow crossed his mind, but even with today's half hearted vigilance, he knew there hadn't been any breakthroughs. He could schedule the next meeting with Japan's top heroes, but without new concrete evidence, that felt pointless. An unfamiliar sense of boredom took him as his mouse hovered over his spam folder, curious. It wasn't something he opened often.
He clicked, and found it relatively empty. There was just a single message from last week; it had no subject line, and the sender's name was unfamiliar to him.
It couldn't hurt, he decided. Opening it revealed a juvenile, unprofessional mess attached to a video link. Intrigue gripped him as he read it, his curiosity growing with each line. Opening the link brought him to a video on the internet titled "Should this even be allowed?"
It was a vertical shot of U.A.'s Sports Festival held last week. It shook and wobbled, but it stayed zoomed in on the arena, telling him it was a spectator's recording. On the center stage were two students with swords, duking it out for the gold.
He remembered this fight; he'd seen it on television, and Izuku had talked everyone's ear off about it. To people like him, it'd been a fun, intriguing match, while to others it'd been a total scandal.
On one side was a behemoth of a student, his skin gray and thick like a shark's. His face widened like a hammerhead's, his height pushing the three-meter mark. In his hand was a rubber Zweihander, with which he swung wide, powerful arcs toward his smaller opponent.
The other student was a far scrappier kid, holding two scimitars in each hand as he struggled under the onslaught. The shark boy was a real powerhouse, and kept up his rampage for far longer than a normal boy could've, keeping the scimitar boy on his toes.
At last, the shark boy's Zweihander parried the hasty scimitars, flinging the blades out of reach. The smaller boy stumbled, unsteady as the shark boy reared back for one last devastating blow. Like a rope cut on a trebuchet, the bigger boy launched one last all out strike.
Now, Nighteye knew the swords were rubber, but even he'd lost it when it cut straight through the boy, bisecting him. Or at least, he lost it at what he thought he saw.
In reality, the sword phased straight through him, alongside all the clothes on his body. The live broadcast, with the power of a ten second delay, was able to blur it in time. This internet video, however, didn't, and consequently, the boy mooned Nighteye in all his glory.
It would've been the perfect moment for a counterattack, but the boy floundered, embarrassed. When he tried to retrieve his britches, the hammerhead boy conked him on the head for his troubles, placing him in a solid silver place.
Nighteye raised an eyebrow, rereading the accompanied message.
…
—
Hello, Sir! I know you didn't send me an invite for your internship program, but I received little to none, so I'm in a bind. I'd really, really appreciate it if you took me on; I've heard you're an efficient, funny guy, and I think that's what I really need right now! Being stuck with the school-provided heroes is a huge problem since they don't know how to teach me. My quirk, Permeation, isn't very good, but I can totally work as hard as you want! I'm ready for anything, Sir, I just want a chance.
Thanks for your time. Mirio Togata. P.S.: I think you're really cool.
…
It was a laughable introduction, really. That might be why Nighteye didn't delete the email the instant he finished. He always did appreciate the funny ones.
With Izuku, he'd never considered doing the apprentice program. His hands had been full with the kid for almost four years now, and splitting his time up even thinner seemed like a dangerous prospect. His rank had never meant much to him, but his actual efficiency did. Training Izuku was a long term investment, not a short one. In the end, his time spent would be worth it, but it was still unfair to the daily citizen, whose lives were at risk now rather than later.
Taking on another student would make his tedious job even more of a tightrope walk. He dragged the email across the screen, hovering over the trash can. The boy would be fine; he'd made it to second place in the sports festival, after all, and seemed fit. His quirk would come to him in time.
…But as a benchmark for Izuku, he'd be quite the catch. A second-year U.A. student would be a magnificent partner; and it'd only be for a week, after all. It wasn't like he was taking the kid on as a sidekick. If he didn't end up liking the intern, he'd be out of his hair by friday. If he liked him, he could accept him when he got his provisional license later in the year.
He pulled the email away from the trash.
Accepting wasn't as easy as just telling the kid yes; Nighteye also had to confirm it with the school, but that only took an additional ten minutes. The U.A. personnel were snappy and familiar; he even spoke to an older lady who still worked there even before he himself graduated. The paperwork was in order before he knew it, and Nighteye had taken on his first temp.
Within one short afternoon, the people at U.A. flipped his entire schedule on its head.
[x]
The day was Saturday, and Mirio was freaking out. He'd sent just about a bajillion emails to agencies across the whole country, and hadn't actually thought one would accept him. It just wasn't how things happened; agencies reached out, not the other way around.
He'd gotten so far in the Sports Festival, too, but he'd only received around thirty offers. Saikero, the gold finalist, had received almost a thousand! Mirio'd landed second place, a single, slight step below him, and received next to nothing! It was asinine; he couldn't believe it when he saw it. Tamaki had tried to comfort him, but even his awkward, soothing words did nothing to bring him off his shock.
It wasn't his first adversity, at least. Last year had been the same; he just thought that a good performance was enough to make a difference. It hadn't, and unless he pulled something crazy out next year, he doubted it would then either.
It was a shot in the dark, to send out queries. He'd sent them to any agency he could bring himself to accept, from Endeavor's to Kamui Wood's. Anything would've been better than the offers he did get. Still, he'd never allowed himself to hope; he was fighting the current on this, and that was a good way to drown.
So here he was, standing outside a rickety, rusted warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Nighteye, Sir-freaking-Nighteye, had accepted him. He thought it'd been a scam at first, when he'd received the email, but when his homeroom teacher confirmed it, he thought he'd died. Only in heaven did these things happen.
So, he was happy. He also felt scared, given he was meeting the man miles and miles away from his actual agency. It was rather ominous, he decided; like if he walked in here, someone would pack him up and sell him. Mirio would rather not abandon his clothes in a crate, given he was wearing his nice shoes. Leaving them would upset his mom.
Still, it was Sir Nighteye, and he wasn't about to back out because his warehouse creeped him out. Steeling himself, he planted both hands flat against the entrance and pushed.
"Hello! I'm here!" He called out, the doors slapping against the wall behind him. The sound reverberated across the building, drawing all eyes to him. A flush threatened to consume him, but Mirio was growing used to the attention, and was able to swallow it back down.
From what he could see, there were four people already inside, three of which he blanked on. Of course, there was Sir Nighteye, tall, lanky and imposing. His figure, despite how skinny he appeared, was imposing and forced your chin up to meet his gaze. A perpetual grimace marred his face, but he appeared neutral at worst, giving him an almost affable vibe.
The three others were wildcards; a crotchety old man and two middle schoolers hadn't been what he'd expected. He also hadn't expected the furnish of the warehouse, which was spartan but filled to the brim with training equipment.
It was a personal gym, from the looks of it; well, as personal as four people can share something. As everyone paused what they were doing, he got a good look at everyone's activities.
The two middle schoolers, siblings if their matching hair was anything to go by, were training. The girl paused in the midst of a miniature boxing ring, grappling gloves wrapped around her fingers. Across from her was the older man holding a pad, presumably for her to kick and hit to her heart's content.
The boy was across to the other side, where it appeared he was in a jungle of top-grade equipment. From a glance, he even recognized the brand, given it was the same stuff U.A. used. He was pumping good iron, his tiny frame curling something like eighteen kilos.
No one moved for a moment, and then like vultures spotting a fresh corpse, they started coasting around him, inspecting him. Nighteye was first to arrive, being the least occupied.
"Good morning, Mr. Togata. Did you find your way here well?" He asked, offering his narrow hand. Mirio was a tall guy, but even he was struggling to look up past the man's nose. Overhead lights created a reflection in his glasses that blurred his face, but he could make out a tiny purple glow leaking out from behind them. Taking the hand in his own, he nodded.
"Yep! Creepy place, but I'm just so happy to be here, you have no idea—"
"It's no worry, so long as you got here. I almost threw you away, if we're honest, but I have a feeling you appreciate honesty. Do you?" The man said, tightening his grip for a millisecond before retracting the greeting. Mirio gulped.
"Y-yes Sir! It's the best policy, definitely!"
"Then you'll be glad to know that I have a good use for you, and therefore a test. Do you see the kids?" He asked, turning to gesture at the two children who were crowding behind him. Mirio bent around the man, giving them a wave. One of them, the girl, was giving him and Nighteye a suspicious look, while the boy was looking anywhere but his face.
Mirio looked between them, his eyes stuck on their hair. The boy had a forest green bush on his head, while the other two possessed similar swamp green straights, the girl having a bit more waviness than the hero. It was a green flag, Mirio decided, that he was training his niece and nephew.
"Yeah? What's up?" Mirio replied.
Nighteye looked at him, his eyes flicking down to his backpack.
"You brought sweats, right?" He asked. Mirio nodded. "Good. Go change."
Mirio stumbled, surprised, but raced to the indicated locker room with a smile on his face. He liked the man's pace, the cut of his jib. The man went from zero to a hundred fast, and it left him giddy. Changing at the speed of light, he tore up the floors as he ran back out to the main floor.
He got a feeling in his gut what was about to happen, so he made his way over to the boxing ring. Almost slipping under the ropes, a cane whacking against his backside forced him out.
"The hell're you doin'? Go get over with the others; this little thing ain't big enough for them." The old man said, wacking him with the cane again for good measure.
"Yes sir, sorry Sir!" He replied, his gaze bouncing between the two impatient adults. Arriving with the kids and Nighteye, he paused to take a look around. There was a good sixty feet in any direction of nothing, but beyond that lay a looping… obstacle course?
"So, ah… where's the pool of piranhas?" He asked, looking around. The course looked like Tarzan's nightmare. The girl startled, her eyes going big as she fist pumped.
"Dude, I thought the same thing! Izuku's crazy, man… Nighteye, you are too, now that I think about it." She said, turning to the tall hero. Nighteye scoffed.
"If you have the energy to joke around, you have the energy to start. Mr. Togata," Nighteye said, turning to him now. "I rewatched the Sports Festival, and your homeroom teacher has mailed me with a list of your strengths, weaknesses, and other such tidbits. Do you know what I've concluded?"
Mirio shook his head, his weight shifting from left to right with his sudden anxiety.
"You have quite the potential. Your power is quite exceptional, and you have good fighting instincts." He said.
"Thank you, sir—"
"I wasn't done. I've also noticed how your focus is lacking and that your quirk-conditioning is abysmal. Your potential is hindered by its inherent weakness, your human shame. You have a million things to work on, but in comparison to some of your peers, your natural charm and skill have gotten you far. As such, I want you to spar as a benchmark. Both for their progress," He said, gesturing towards the kids, "and yours."
Mirio stared at him, eyes wide. The words felt onto his shoulders like a waterfall; the weight of the water made him want to bend over, but the icy shock froze him in place. The words felt sharp, practiced, yet he doubted the man had taken the time for such. They'd come off the top of his head, yet they were crisper than Vlad King's ever were, more honest than his current home room ever would be. It'd been a long while since he felt like he was standing next to a real teacher.
It almost made him want to fight these middle schoolers; at least, for a second.
"A-are you sure that's quite… fair? I've got a full year of U.A. under my belt, and your kids here—" He said, cut off as the blunt end of a cane poked his spine like a pool stick.
"Setsuna's been with us for almost two years now, and Izuku's her senior around here. There's a world of a difference between being a student in a class and getting personal attention from a hero, I promise." The old man said, planting his cane back on the ground. Mirio turned to him, rubbing his back.
"I didn't catch your name; are you a hero, sir?" He asked. The old man nodded, pulling a domino mask out from the pocket of his jacket. It slipped onto his face with ease, like he'd done it a thousand—no, a million times.
"Of course. I've been in the business since your mom was in diapers. The name's Gran Torino, and I was All Might's homeroom teacher back in his school days." The old man said, the ghost of pride on his tongue. Mirio gawked.
"Wait, y—"
"Mr. Togata. We are waiting." Nighteye said, cutting him off. Mirio swallowed, nodding as he marched over to the center of the ring. Before him, he got the best look at the kids so far today and—
The boy, Izuku, was missing an arm.
He didn't know how he didn't notice it before; though he could make guesses. The boy had an impressive frame for a middle schooler, his figure very aesthetic. Mirio'd been so focused on his hair and how much he could curl he guessed it just slipped his mind. His eyes inched over to the girl, Setsuna, realizing that she'd stuck to Izuku's hip since he'd arrived, doing a great job of blocking his arm.
They moved while he was still in shock. The boy leaned into the girl, whispering something into her ear before walking off to the sidelines. Now he was alone in what once felt like a huge open space, which now was beginning to feel cramped as the girl stared at him, her eyes squinted and focused.
"Your name was… Togata, right?" She asked, crossing her arms. Mirio nodded, absent as he collected himself.
"Yeah, you can call me Mirio. It's what everyone calls me."
"Alright, the rules are simple!" Gran Torino called off from the sidelines. "Quirks are unrestricted, no hitting below the belt, and no excessive force. Winner is decided by pin or first to fall three times. Are we ready?"
Mirio nodded, as did the girl.
"Alright. Begin." Nighteye said, clicking a stopwatch.
Chapter 26: The Princes' Joust
His first mistake was underestimating her. The moment Nighteye announced the beginning, the girl's form compressed, each limb tight against the other. He watched this, his guard loose, trying to figure out her ability; perhaps she was an enhancer, or an emitter—Boom! He couldn't react. One moment, a young girl was standing a good ten paces away, and the next a fist planted itself in his gut. Mirio folded around the impact like a hinge, the force sending him sprawling onto his ass.
He hadn't even had a chance to use Permeation; the hit came way before he was ready. Off to the side, he heard All Might's old teacher grumble.
"Teachers are too soft these days…"
"That's one knock; two more, and you lose, young man." Nighteye said as Mirio struggled to his feet, nursing his gut. He looked around him, confused as to where his opponent was.
What was her power? Could she turn invisible, or was he going crazy? Overhead, he heard a feminine giggle.
"Blondey, you look so funny right now."
Flicking his eyes up, he gasped. Setsuna wasn't a speedster, nor could she capture him in illusions; overhead, she was a tornado of cackling, floating limbs. She spun over him counter clockwise in pieces no longer than a hand length. In the center of it all was her head, whole and unharmed and smiling.
"Woah! This is freaky." He said, taking a step back. It only made her laugh harder as she descended to her previous spot. Her feet touched down, but the rest of her stayed airborne. His eyes struggled to track her wild movements, her body language unintelligible.
"Thanks! Can't say much about you, though. Come on, show me why you're here!"
"No problem!" He replied, rushing her down. It'd been a fluke, he'd thought; that her ability to knock him flat had been because she surprised him. He was only half correct.
Mirio aimed at her larger pieces, deciding the tiny ones were too troublesome. The big pieces were cumbersome, less efficient than the others. His knuckles brushed against what he thought was an elbow and a belly button, but it was always a glancing blow. Her natural affinity for evasion was excellent, and she remained elusive through his onslaught. Throughout it all, she kept her head far out of reach.
"You gotta do better than that!" She said, taunting him from afar. Mirio grit his teeth; despite the excursion, he wasn't feeling any burn. Time wasn't much a factor either, given the adrenaline he went through keeping her at bay. What frustrated him was something outside the fight itself: the rules.
His brain was working a mile a minute to crunch the numbers. How was he supposed to win? How do you pin someone who could break into pieces? How do you knock someone down who can fly?
He thought back to the Sports Festival, and the difficulties he faced going from round one to the Silver Medal. There were a dozen powerhouses and half a dozen more technical types, and he beat each one with just muscles and sweat, until the final round.
A lower appendage, maybe the ball of Setsuna's foot, collided with the back of his head, killing his train of thought. Saying it hurt would be an overstatement, but it was troublesome. One by itself was nothing, but a dozen? He felt another pellet of flesh knock into his thigh.
It was like standing in a hailstorm, arms stretched out in welcome. He pounced toward a larger piece, a shoulder joint, as it passed. A high pitched yelp split in his ears as he gripped it tight, squeezing it with all his strength. Maybe she'd throw in the towel, or maybe this'd count towards a pin.
He barely saw the leg coming. As he tried crushing her shoulder, a dozen pieces slotted together like legos, forming the full length of her lower appendage. It cut through the air like an ax, his shoulder the timber at her mercy. Mirio got lucky, in all honesty. The congregated flesh created a larger shadow on the ground than the rest, tipping him off as soon as the attack finished charging.
As her heel tried cutting through his shoulder, Permeation kicked on, turning his torso to air. All her foot caught was his shirt, surprising her as it tangled around it.
"Woah, woah! You're so freaky, man!" She said, pulling her leg back into the swarm. Mirio didn't have any lungs to answer with, so instead he lunged forward, grabbing the shirt and the leg trapped within. Unable to free her leg before his maneuver, all she regained was the top few inches of her thigh.
He wrestled the leg into submission as it thrashed in his grip. Thank god he'd switched into sweats, as she almost ruined the shirt by the time he succeeded, taming the leg. The threads wore thin, the paleness of her flesh peaking through the cotton-polyester. Tying a knot in the shirt, he trapped the leg in a makeshift bag before pinning it under his left flank.
Despite how powerful her punch was and how quick her kick would've been, she had an obvious weakness. Physically, she wasn't very strong; she relied on winding up power, her evasiveness, and lizard-tail splitting style attacks.
Really, he was almost a perfect counter. He could shrug off half her attacks, and the ones that she strained herself over he could just phase through. He may have lost the Sports Festival over his embarrassment, but he was over that now. Shame was like Nighteye'd said, just a human weakness. And if Mirio had one thing, it was the willpower to overcome weakness.
Hands formed overhead, shooting down on his flank to retrieve her appendage.
"Gimme back my leg, man!" She screamed, her head flying closer as she did so. Her fingers tore at his side, trying to either rip the shirt free or apart. For a second he followed along, playing tug of war with her. As he struggled, her head grew closer and closer to inspect their battle, and when it was close enough, he made his move.
He overpowered her, wrenching the leg away. In her haste to recover lost ground, all her pieces lunged toward him at once. She never saw it coming.
Permeation flooded every inch of his flesh as he leaped, going straight for the head. Fingers, elbows, knees and abdomen phased through him like they were nothing—or rather, he was nothing. His world was cold and black for but the briefest second of his leap, as even light and warmth ignored him.
Casting Permeation off his skin, he proverbially opened his eyes back up to the world, and the girl's skull cradled in his arms.
"Me personally, I'd consider this a pin. Nighteye?" He asked, turning towards the spectators.
All three males, pro heroes and trainees alike, turned in unison, inspecting something 45 degrees away from him. The little orb he held against his chest was burning like a star, his pecs sizzling in her heat.
"Oh, my god, put some freaking pants on, man! Oh god, oh god…" She said, her face a blushing mess. His cheeks flushed pink as he freed her head, hands materializing from nowhere over her eyes. "Oh, god… I knew I freaking recognized you, you're t-that d-damn nudist from the Sports Festival!"
He put his pants back on after that, and chose not to look anyone in the eyes for a while.
Nighteye coughed into a fist as Mirio slipped his shirt on, frowning at the new wrinkles. It was stretched in all the worst places. Setsuna was whole again, and standing behind Izuku, rather than the way she'd covered him before. It was like he was a door, and she was peeking around Izuku to spy on him.
Izuku still wasn't looking at him, though it was less the courteous way of the adults and more like he just couldn't. Like a fog settled over his eyes whenever he saw Mirio. It made his stomach turn, that blank look. He blinked; Nighteye'd been speaking to him.
"Sorry, sir. What was that?" He asked. Nighteye's upper lip curled a smidge, his eyebrow twitching.
"Why do all the talented ones have to be so scatterbrained?" Torino mumbled off to the side, wandering over to check on Setsuna. Mirio saw in the corner of his eye how he prodded her shoulder, noting how she winced. A small guilt bubbled in his gut.
"Damn, son. You did a number on our girl. To be honest though, I'm surprised you beat her. Girlie is a bit of a monster." He continued. Setsuna huffed.
"When will you quit calling me girlie? It's demeaning, you old fart." She muttered. Mirio was about to apologize, but Nighteye cut him off.
"Torino is a bit vulgar, but he cuts deep. You definitely surprised us there; we hadn't expected you to be so composed over your nudity. Was the Sports Festival just nerves?" He asked, the glare in his glasses subsiding as he bent his face down to meet Mirio's. He shook his head.
"N-nah, I guess you could say I'm a bashful guy. The Sports Festival was definitely not the first time I screwed up like that. I just figured, y'know, today I should give it my all. A little nakedness is a lot less embarrassing than falling short after talking myself up." He said, a small laugh on his lips. It was true; he'd promised he could work hard, and a promise was a promise. Nighteye'd taken a chance on him, and it was on Mirio to meet his expectations.
The flicker of annoyance on Nighteye's face had faded with his admission, a firm nod replacing it.
"That's good then; it means you aren't all talk about wanting to learn. So, how would you say Girlie stacks up to U.A.'s standards?" Torino asked, waddling back over to them. Mirio blinked at the question, tapping a finger against his lips as he considered it.
"The girl is—" He began, his eyes flicking to Setsuna. It was rude to pretend like she wasn't there. "You're about as good as any freshmen I've seen, including myself. Then again, I was a bit of a stinker at first. I got a friend, Suneater, who you remind me of. Totally opposite personalities, same vibe."
"Suneater?" Izuku said, speaking to him for the first time. His eyes had locked onto his own, but it was like they were staring straight through him. Mirio nodded, subconscious of himself. "I've heard of him; in his first internship, he helped Fatgum subdue a minor villain. Tentacles, wings; he can partially animorph, right?"
Mirio nodded, a hesitant smile on his face. Even if the boy was treating Mirio like he was translucent, he was always happy to talk about his friend.
"Sorta! He can manifest the shape of any creature he's eaten recently. He's really, really shy, but he's probably the best of us second years. The dude rocks."
"Hmm…" Izuku made a noise in his throat, but said nothing more. A small smile tugged on his lips, however. Mirio took it as a win. Setsuna stopped hiding behind the boy, but she stayed close, leaning deep into him.
"Thanks? I'm really not that good though, you should see—" She began, before Nighteye interrupted her.
"Mr. Togata," he said. "Your test isn't over yet."
Mirio blinked. Surely not.
Setsuna squeezed Izuku's shoulder, wishing him luck before she pushed him into the center of the ring just as the adults retreated.
"W-wait, are we actually..?" Mirio whispered, staring at Izuku, or to be specific, his stump. Izuku said nothing, his face blank as he slipped his shirt off just as Mirio adjusted his, making sure it'd still stick to his frame.
Mirio was taller, broader, and more muscular than this boy, yet the kid didn't even seem nervous. If anything, his silence elevated the sense of confidence that floated off him in waves.
Setsuna'd been one thing; she'd been loud, boisterous and clearly having fun. Not only that, but she'd been super capable. Mirio didn't know these kids super well, but he'd definitely gotten the impression that she was the more… active between the two.
"Same rules as before. However, brat, you gotta pick your number."
"Two." Came his response; immediate. Practiced. Mirio blinked again, confused.
"No ropes."
"Alright."
"After this, we'll go over your schedule for the rest of the week, alright?" Nighteye said, looking at Mirio. He swallowed hard, but nodded. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the kid's arm. His tongue felt dry in his mouth.
"Begin!"
[x]
It was like he was a living silhouette. No matter how hard Izuku tried, no matter how much he squinted and focused, he couldn't see Mirio Togata's face. He had the pieces; tall, broad-shouldered, golden hair and a pearlescent grin. Soft lines struck down his face like thunderbolts where he smiled, his blue eyes a shade lighter than dusk. Despite the softness of his features, he possessed a defined, strong jaw. A round hairline crowned his face, matching his button nose.
Yet the pieces floated apart like a shipwreck, the image scrambled. He'd seen the boy on television, and though Nighteye had given them only the barest of warnings, Izuku knew what to expect upon his arrival. A talented, bright person with a good heart and healthy sense of shame. A powerful, but quick fighter who wore his deceipts on his bare chest; a boy who was unapologetically honest in his lies.
That'd been what he got. Izuku's first guess was right on the money, and he was glad to see it. They weren't kindred, but Izuku felt a similar sense of responsibility and charitable camaraderie floating off the guy in waves. There shouldn't have been a problem; really, he should be over the moon at the new face.
Staring at him was like trying to talk to someone to the west, the setting sun darkening their face. A golden crown of positivity haloed the boy, and it was blinding. Izuku's gut twisted against itself as he recalled the boy's greeting.
Slipping his shirt overhead, he let himself be bare chested. The cool warehouse air nipped at his naked flesh, but it was nothing to him now. Smokescreen needed bare skin, and he had learned to let go of his modesty. His figure was in great shape for his age, and he had nothing to hide. Not really.
He'd only been lifting for a year and some change, but he'd made good gains for a fourteen year old. Bulbous, supple muscles had grown over his old runner's body, giving him the best mix of speed, endurance, and power he could ask for. There was still a long road of fitness ahead, but his strength was at a good enough spot to begin the next stage of his training.
Well, should've been.
One for All bubbled in his gut as Gran Torino banned Blackwhip, the quirk warming his already fatigued frame. He willed the quirk to flood through him like a raging river, wanting the sheer power to embrace him. Such fantastic energy filled him that when Nighteye announced the start, Izuku could almost imagine static electricity jumping between his fingers.
He took a single, powerful step, and then…
Nothing. Togata's heel raised for a backstep, but for no reason. There was nothing.
No burst of speed, no insane power carried him across the arena in an instant. No divine power graced his form, filling him with the strength of Heracles. It was just a normal step forward, and it drove him crazy.
"C'mon, kid. You can't just let the power fester inside you, you have to bring it out." Five said, admonishing him from his peripherals. Izuku grit his teeth. Obviously.
Eighth's famous strength didn't course through his veins, no matter how hard his heart pumped. It hadn't taken them long to figure it out, to his dismay. Around his last birthday, Nighteye'd finally sanctioned a session to test out Eighth's strength, the best doctors just around the corner. The strength just marinated in his bones, rather than his muscles. He wasn't bullet proof, he wasn't as fast as sound. He couldn't bench press a building.
At best, someone could throw him through a wall without breaking his spine. Still, he'd suffer contusions, bruises, tears and scrapes across his softer flesh. His strength was only the slightest durability in his bones and his bones alone. His muscles were like a dead sponge, unable to hold any of what One for All should've given him.
Izuku traced the outline of Togata's figure, feeling a slight jealousy take root within. His frame was impressive; while he hadn't quite grown into adult strength, he was still better built than many men. He was broad, tall, and filled out in ways Izuku just wasn't—and never could be.
It was that bitterness that fueled him to kick off his already loose shoes, watching out for the older boy's approach. It never came. Fine.
If he wanted to go easy on Izuku, then he'd better be ready.
Flaring his nostrils, he let Smokescreen build up within him, but didn't quite release it. He let it strain against the skin of his heels, begging to break free, but ignored it for more power. A second passed as he focused; his clenched fist grounding him for a second, then two, until the clock struck five.
This time, when he stepped, he moved.
Smokescreen burst from his leg in one massive cloud, launching him in Togata's unsuspecting direction.
"Woah—Ack!" Togata screamed as he tried to dodge, but Izuku's fist shoved the air from his lungs. The blow connected just as he wanted; now, without a massive burst, his other leg propelled him to Togata's other flank. Smokescreen helped him spin through the air like a top, the torque carrying his leg through the air like a falcon's dive. The second hit came far before the blond recovered, sending him flying across the arena.
Izuku landed on the floor gingerly, leaning on his left rather than his right. He launched and kicked with the same leg, and doing both back-to-back put a real strain on him. Still, he was steady, and showed the older boy a strong front as he staggered to his feet. Had Izuku kicked the boy in the head, this'd already been over.
"Careful, Mirio! Izuku's a freak of nature like us!" Setsuna called out, encouraging the boy to his feet. Togata coughed, his unblemished hand unsure whether to cradle his abused shoulder or gut. This was the second time he'd been liver-punched today, Izuku thought. He should probably stop that; if he kept using hits like that, then the boy might go home on a stretcher.
For a moment, he felt a little annoyed at Setsuna's comment. Encouraging his opponent, then calling Izuku a freak? Yet there was no ill-will in his gut; and there never would be towards her. She knew what he was capable of, and who needed more help. Izuku could always appreciate that about her, how she always managed to sniff out the underdog. Too often, though, she just assumed it was her.
Just another thing to work on together, he thought. He shifted into a more defensive stance, his right flank forward and left leg back as Togata finally secured himself.
"Blondey really likes eating those big first-hits, doesn't he?" Torino mumbled to Nighteye.
"Indeed. Mr. Togata, you do remember that you can just phase through those, do you not?" Nighteye said, sarcasm thick on his tongue like an accent. When he didn't reply, Nighteye continued. "That's one down. Two more and it's Izuku's win. Continue."
Togata's head tilted towards Izuku's, but where his eyes settled, he couldn't say. Even now, his stomach acid felt curdled, his intestines twisting together like a python. He just couldn't place why Togata made him feel this way.
Izuku glanced at Nighteye, wondering. Why had he brought on an intern? It was obvious to everyone that he could barely tolerate Setsuna, and she wasn't even around for most of the week. All the man said was that they'd have a temporary partner, and that he'd specifically requested Nighteye's help. It wasn't the man's nature to just take on students for the sake of it. Izuku loved the man, but even he saw how short he was with people who made his life more complicated.
Was this some kind of test, to bring out Eighth's strength? Did he think that a tough fight would help him finally activate Float? These questions and a hundred like them floated around his brain as he watched Togata inspect him.
It was when Izuku let his mind wander too far that Togata struck, dashing at him faster than he'd expected. He'd thought the boy's larger frame would slow him down, but he was just as if not faster than Izuku was without propelling.
He threw a wide haymaker at Izuku's right side, which threw him off. He was more used to guarding his left flank with his remaining arm rather than his right. Most people went for the obvious weakness. He couldn't tell if the boy was still holding out on him or just messing with him, but he elected to dedicate less brainpower to pondering that and more toward dodging. Izuku didn't have the strength to block such a heavy hit, but he could try and redirect it with a wrist-tap.
Instead of de-escalating the power, however, Izuku's knuckles punctured right through his wrist, alongside the rest of his hand. Togata's arm moved unimpeded through Izuku's guard, planting itself into the flesh of his cheek. Izuku let out a microburst of Smokescreen off his face to dampen the blow, but it still sent his smaller frame flying and head bouncing against the floor.
Izuku stayed on the ground for a second, catching his breath. In Izuku's preoccupied state, he'd almost—scratch that, he'd forgotten about Togata's quirk. It slipped his mind to track its specifics during Setsuna's fight; he'd still been wrestling with the boy's vibe at the time, trying to discern how he felt. Despite his lack of attention, however, even he couldn't miss how the boy avoided Setsuna's ultimate attack, her limb storm. How he'd been untouchable for brief moments.
Over him, two Togatas stuck their hand out, offering him help up. Izuku blinked, squinting as the boy's features lightened, the puzzle simplifying. Izuku stumbled to his feet by himself, backing away to get a better view of a boy. A few hard blinks and a shake of his head later, Togata's twin disappeared.
"Damn, Midoriya, you ate that shit. Do you need to stop? We don't want you getting hurt too bad." Torino said. Izuku shook his head, trying to throw off any lingering dizziness. Togata's shoulders stood slumped in concern, but Izuku raised his fist back to his chin, defiant. It was like he could see the boy's muscles tense in response; or, maybe he could, if he turned Danger Sense up enough. As it was, he could feel a vague, growing threat as Togata resumed his fighting stance.
Their fight was a lot less fun than Setsuna's. With them, it'd been a battle of abilities and bluffs; how could Mirio overcome her powers when the rules were against him? How could the ultimate defense beat supreme maneuverability?
With Izuku, it was more about trying to out-perform him. Of course, Smokescreen was an ability factor, but the simple necessity of being better outstripped its importance. Without Blackwhip, there were only two victorious paths he could see, and he didn't much like either of them.
If he could use Float, it'd be easier; as would having Eight's ultimate strength. He could just hover out of range, throwing wind-attacks at him from afar until he couldn't go intangible anymore. That thought made his stomach twist in annoyance, but it also brought up a greater question. What were the limits of his power?
His mind was racing as they inched toward each other, feeling out their next moves. Togata'd taken three serious hits today, but Izuku was weaker and had taken a brain-rattling punch to the chin. It was impossible to say who had it worse, but it was also impossible to say the extent of his own damage. Had the hit incapacitated his perception? Had he taken a concussion? Togata would be fine in that regard, and even if Izuku was clear, he couldn't be certain, and that would breed hesitation.
He thought back to the lessons of all his mentors, trying to recall any helpful advice. From Nighteye, he considered tactics; how to stay safe, how to guard and plan well. He put a bit of weight onto his right leg; it felt recovered.
Sasami'd done him a great service in her lessons. Deciphering Togata's power would've otherwise felt like trying to read hieroglyphs without the Rosetta Stone. What did he know? The boy could pass through any object, but doing so meant he couldn't hold onto his clothes. He'd phased through his arm and still connected his punch, all without stripping.
If he had so much finesse with his ability, why had he taken those opening hits? The same thing happened with Setsuna. It was so strange, why didn't he just—
Danger Sense screamed in his ears, guiding him to jerk his head to the side. Togata's fist cut the skin of his right cheek, almost tearing his ear off as it flashed past his head like a train. On instinct, Izuku wrapped his arm around Togata's elbow as he tried to knee the teen in the gut. Had it been any other opponent, that might've been the end.
Izuku's knee hit nothing but loose shirt, his leg resting somewhere between Togata's kidney and liver. His arm, however, remained tangible and pinned, so Izuku took advantage. Shifting his weight, he twisted and flung Togata over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. Or, he should've, had the boy not decided to keep going with the momentum.
One moment, Izuku had him pinned, and the next, all Izuku was looking at was a pile of clothes on the floor.
He had no time to react as Danger Sense screamed at him, the elbow already having connected with the back of his head.
It'd been instant. With almost no time to react, Izuku had taken another serious head-blow and ate dirt. Thoughts hung loose on the shelves of his brain; books were sidestacked, tilted, and the spines were facing the wall. For a good few seconds, all he knew was the oddity of his confusion, and the taste of the waxed wooden floors.
Breath came to his lungs ragged and torn, like refugees after a long, troublesome march. He became aware at a snail's pace, first realizing he was on his stomach, then that his head hurt, and finally that someone was speaking.
"—rry, I'm sorry, are you alright?" Togata's voice echoed around his head, unimpeded by this brain like his skull was empty. Izuku tried to clench his fist, but his strength was like a baby's, his motor control gone. Several seconds passed before he was able to roll himself over, and even then it took all he had.
The overhead lights of the warehouse were more blinding than the sun. The overexposure made him want to close his eyes, but looking at Togata and Nighteye leaning over him set a fire under his ass, the spite forcing him awake.
In one awkward, jerking motion, Izuku sat up, brushing off their help. Annoyance was building in his gut, One for All bearing its teeth under his ribs. He wanted to punch something.
"Kid, you gotta relax. You don't need to keep going; the spar can be over. No need to push yourself like this." Five said, his spectral hand on his shoulder. Not thinking, Izuku tried shoving it off, a growl in his throat.
"Shut it, Five…" Izuku whispered, his anger only growing with Five's easy attitude. Izuku hadn't been this thoroughly thrashed in a while, and soft words and low assurances weren't doing anything but further enraging him. He looked to his companions, all possessing a hazy twin at their hip. The world tilted upright and sideways, his perception fogged. The Togatas were wearing all their clothes; how long had he been out? The Nighteyes appeared grave, the Torinos looked worried. His world only seemed to grow more erratic as he stood there, deep breaths beating against his lungs like he'd just finished drowning. The thoughts in his head grew louder with each second, Five's pleas drowning him everytime he tried to calm himself—
A tiny, pale hand planted itself on his side, silencing the noise in his head.
"Izu, you good?" Setsuna whispered, standing inches away. He blinked. The world was still out of focus, but it'd stabilized. He turned to the girl, her green eyes glowing with a small concern. It made the annoyance burn itself out, the growing anger stunt. Guilt replaced those feelings tenfold, but it calmed him, bringing him back to the moment.
Izuku looked to Togata, who was staring at him wide-eyed, his face a little less of a puzzle. The guilt Izuku harbored in his gut mirrored Togata's expression, even as Izuku struggled to see it.
Togata phased through the ground, Izuku realized. Becoming real again must've been the answer: when he regained his tangibility, he couldn't just exist within another space. It was kind've like high particle physics; when his matter realized it was in the wrong place, it pushed him to the nearest space it could. Today, to Mirio's good fortune, had been right behind him.
He could do all that, but Izuku could still grapple his arm. The cogs were beginning to turn in his brain, the stars aligning. It took focused effort to become intangible, and it wasn't a body-wide phenomenon. It wasn't like flicking a single lightswitch lit the whole house; he had to go room by room most times; and sometimes, in emergencies, he just had to swipe all the levers on the fuse box. Then it clicked: Mirio'd gotten lucky, reappearing behind him. The boy didn't quite have the control to do that move on command, and Izuku could abuse that.
Another thing was that he couldn't breathe or see when he made his organs intangible. Izuku'd noticed the way Togata's breath had caught in his throat when he kneed his gut, and if he couldn't breath, what reason did he have to say the boy could see, too?
All Izuku's thoughts were debris in a hurricane, circling wildly in the sky as his brain formed an image. Making his feet intangible meant he fell through the ground, it took dedicated effort to go intangible, and he couldn't perceive through intangible appendages. Izuku's eyes bore holes into where Togata's face should've been, his brain still in overdrive. One by one, the pieces were starting to fit together.
Blond hair, incredible physique, a beautiful spirit… The bud of an idea took root within, his guilt ridden gut growing queasier with it. His rough, calloused fingers brushed Setsuna's own, peeling them off his flank with a gentleness he only reserved for two people.
"Yeah, I am. Togata… has two more drops in him. I've got one. I'm good to go."
No one said anything, but Izuku could feel their looks of doubt level him. He shook them off, stepping towards a hesitant Togata.
"You said your friend was Suneater, right?" He asked. Togata gave him a bewildered, slow nod. "I can see what you mean about him and Set. Their personalities are total polar opposites, but they're cut from the same cloth. They've got dramatic, special powers and fight like it. I've seen his videos a hundred times. They're a good mix of tactics and strength."
Togata's face slid into one of slight understanding. Izuku continued.
"We, on the other hand, rely more so on technique and finesse. I'm starting to see why Nighteye brought you along… We're good, Togata, but if we keep going, I think we could be better." Izuku said, throwing out his hand for a knuckle tap-in. Everyone bar Togata took a step back, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Togata stepped forward, the image of his smile pressing against Izuku's mind like an iron brand.
"That's the most Plus Ultra thing I've heard all month. Call me Mirio." He said, tapping his knuckle against Izuku's.
"Don't go easy on me." Izuku said, before bursting into a leg sweep with Smokescreen.
The extra speed caught Mirio by surprise, but he didn't fall for it. Instead, he jumped back, avoiding the attack entirely. Izuku never let up, though, and kept propelling himself into a flurry of attacks. He kept his targets simple; Mirio's face, his ankles, and his chest. He moved faster than any normal human could, but the blond kept a good pace, dodging what he could and phasing through what he couldn't.
Izuku didn't bother dispelling the lingering effects of Smokescreen. He let them build into a cloud behind him. The furious exchange lasted several seconds as Izuku upshifted into the next gear, doubling his output as well as pace. Now, Mirio was beginning to fall behind. In the Sports Festival, he'd been the smaller, faster opponent, and he'd grown accustomed to it. Now, however, he was the tank, and he didn't know how to play against a lighter, quicker rogue-type. Izuku didn't bother aiming his attacks for his extremities; those, Mirio could just block or phase through no problem. Aiming for his weak spots was far more economical.
When he punched Mirio's chest, he wouldn't be able to breathe. When his heel cut through his face, he couldn't see. When his toes punctured his ankles, he couldn't phase, otherwise risking falling through the floor. Attacks didn't get through his defense often, but when they did, they did more to set up the next move rather than do damage. Everything Izuku did functioned as a one-two; first, he dazed, second, he critically hit. Danger Sense did great work here, allowing him to get in close without taking hits in return; but it was reliant on Izuku's ability to react, and wasn't an automatic defense.
Eventually, a hit slipped through Izuku's guard, the boy's heel connecting with Izuku's gut like a sledgehammer. It sent him flying, but by flipping backward in the air, he landed on his feet. Smokescreen dampened the blow, blunting it to less than half power. Still, it stung like hell. Mirio hesitated, worried that Izuku wouldn't get up, and that's when he began.
The cloud behind them was monstrous, eating up a good sixteen square meters. All it took was a thought, a simple whim, for Izuku's technique to work. He'd put the years to good use, honing the control of his first quirk beyond any other of his other abilities.
Dashing back forward, he carried the whole of the cloud at his back. Mirio stood stock still, surprised beyond belief at the sudden control; Izuku hadn't manipulated a cloud around the boy, and now he was about to see his best.
Flinging the whole weight of the cloud towards Mirio took no more effort than throwing a basketball one-handed. The blond blocked the gas from his eyes as he weathered the blunt force and the wind alike as all of Izuku's excess tore at him; or what he thought was all.
Izuku watched as the cloud consumed Mirio, blocking Izuku's view of the boy for a brief second. When at last all the smoke had blown past the boy, his form reappeared with windswept hair and tears in his shirt. Izuku didn't even give him a chance.
Throwing his hand forward, the remnants of the cloud he didn't throw exploded from their compacted orb, no larger than a marble across. The impact was like a horse's kick, knocking the wind out of Mirio and sending him skidding across his back.
"Oh, shit!" Setsuna called out from the sidelines. Izuku didn't startle, or jump forward in concern. Though it stung a bit, he'd allowed Danger Sense to latch onto Mirio. He'd never hit someone so hard they'd be in serious trouble; and that Orb Attack, while powerful and painful, wasn't even enough to knock him out, let alone become lethal.
As if to confirm his private thoughts, Mirio got to his feet, coughing as he regained his breath. Smoke collected between his ankles, the residuals fading away. Izuku could've wrestled those whisps under his control, trapping and tripping up his opponent for further advantage, but it felt unsportsmanlike.
"Next knock is out. I suggest finishing this quickly, before one of you has to go to the hospital." Nighteye said from the sidelines. Izuku nodded, shifting back into a defensive stance. He could still use a bit more of Smokescreen, but his throat couldn't take much more abuse. Constant propelling did a number to a guy.
"Dude, you guys are—ack," Mirio started, pausing to cough. "So strong. Where the heck have you been hiding these kids, Sir?"
"You'd be surprised how poorly I've managed to hide one of them." Nighteye replied, side-eyeing Izuku. "Still, they won't be hidden for long. You're looking at our personal candidates for U.A.'s new recommended program."
Mirio stretched his arms a bit, taking deep breaths as he recovered.
"Not to toot my own horn, but me and my pals are kind've big deals around campus. Vlad called me a modern talent, when he was still my teacher. Next year, we might even start breaking the non-All Might records." Mirio said, not noticing the way Izuku's eyes widened. "But if these kids are in the new 1Z Nedzu's been hyping up, I can't imagine any of our records will last."
Izuku was a mix of confusion and revulsion; the mention of Eight made his heart burn, but the talk of 1Z piqued his interest. What was that?
Before he had time to question it, Mirio had already returned to his spot, fisticuffs raised.
"That was a nice shot, man, but don't think it'll happen again!" He said, before pushing into a charge. Danger Sense roared in his ears as he dropped a sudden flurry of blows upon Izuku's guard, as if he hadn't just been knocked on his back mere seconds ago.
It was like all the damage Izuku'd delivered had been for nothing. Mirio pushed on, tanking everything like a madman as Izuku's counterattacks fell apart with the boy's urgency. Without propelling, the blond had enough speed to counter everything Izuku tried, and began pummeling him.
Izuku dedicated what little Smokescreen he had left to dampening the oncoming hits. Bursts of smoke smothered the force coming towards his shoulder, his chest, his thighs, even his face a handful of times. Still, even as the hits meant little to Izuku, damage cushion extraordinaire, he couldn't keep up.
Concentrating, Izuku gathered all the stray puffs of smoke into a few micro orbs, tossing them into Mirio's face like smoke pellets. Though his head phased through the first two, his blindness made it impossible to dodge the third one Izuku delayed.
"Gah!" Mirio said, his eyes full of Izuku's exhaust. Dashing back, Izuku tried to think of a plan during his brief reprieve, catching his breath. The power difference was too much; the boy punched harder and faster, all while having enough stamina to double Izuku's own. He didn't know what to do, desperation searing through him.
Then, his skin began to itch. Blackwhip gathered beneath his flesh, the quirk coming to aid in his crisis. Izuku grit his teeth, shoving it back into the box he kept it in. Breaking the rules was a surefire way to get this match canceled. It didn't go down easily; it fought back, biting and barking within him, straining against its leash. Izuku tried to be a heavy handed master, but it just wasn't enough when the quirk woke up like this.
Izuku had gone leaps and bounds in terms of directing Blackwhip, but control wasn't something he had in spades. Blackwhip did what it wanted, and what it wanted was to go free; all Izuku had managed to do was channel that desire into his own. But when Blackwhip woke up and Izuku had no desire to channel it, Blackwhip was liable to go on a rampage.
Izuku clutched his midrift, trying to hold it all back. All across the bare flesh of his arms, little green plotches were growing. His control was slipping, and One for All was roaring and screaming and fighting within him—
Mirio's punch rocketed into Izuku's gut, breaking his concentration. Even as his shoulders slammed into the floor, Blackwhip ripped free from his skin, surging from the depths of his soul like the kraken. Only, instead of capsizing a ship, the evil limbs gripped Mirio.
The quirk wrapped the boy from head to toe, trying to cage him where he couldn't escape. Mirio's strangled scream cut off as he turned intangible, slipping into the floor. Yet Blackwhip fed off of One for All, and Danger Sense was a part of it. The sixth sense felt where the boy would reappear, and Blackwhip answered the unspoken challenge. The tentacles launched themselves at a random chunk of floor, grabbing Mirio the millisecond he popped back into existence. Again, the boy's surprised yell was cut off as he fell back through to the floor, and thus Blackwhip fed off Danger Sense again, grabbing him as he reemerged.
The wild quirk trapped Mirio just as it savaged Izuku's form with excruciating pain.
"Cut us off! Kid, cut us out—!" Five's scream faded away as Izuku dropped One for All, cutting off the source of Blackwhip's strength. The buzzing scream of Blackwhip faded away alongside the quirk's warmth, his bones suddenly feeling a lot colder than seconds prior.
Footsteps thundered in his eardrums as he cradled his painstricken form, body on its side. He didn't know who was above him, it could've been Setsuna, Nighteye, or even Gran Torino for all he could tell. His entire attention, in that moment, was regaining control over himself and the freakish strength of his wild quirk. A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him to attention. Though all he wanted to was to curl back into himself, Izuku let himself be rolled onto his back. His stomach was tearing itself apart as he looked up, his embarrassment, shame, and anxiety all boiling over as Mirio Togata's face finally clicked in his mind.
"Woah, woah, chill out, man. I'm here, we're here, it's just us. No reason to stress, alright? We're chill." Mirio Togata said, just as Nighteye and Setsuna peaked over his shoulder. Izuku's heart was hammering in his chest; it wasn't just the shame at his loss of control, however, it was his realization.
It was the way he looked at Izuku, despite having just seen tentacles burst out of his skin. The way his first instinct was concern for Izuku, even as he himself had gotten thrashed moments prior. It was the way his eyes reflected the sky in them, the way his hair reminded Izuku of the sunset. The gentle, good-natured movements of his broad shoulders and nimble feet. The way his smile refracted only the purest light.
Mirio was the spitting image of All Might.