The first round of Block One concluded without much ceremony.
With nothing else to do, I headed to watch the first match of Block Two, Ji-ho walking beside me in uneasy silence.
Shoto was fighting Ethan Cross.
I wanted to see what that guy was truly made of.
When we reached the arena—
The match was already underway.
"…What the—"
Shoto was losing.
Not instantly.
Not helplessly.
But steadily.
"Kacchan, what's happening?" I asked.
"I don't know," Bakugo replied, eyes sharp and unblinking. "But that bastard over there is overwhelming Half-and-Half."
"Oh? Brat, you're here too," Kacchan added, glancing at Ji-ho.
Ji-ho visibly stiffened.
Seo-jun had a foul mouth—but Bakugo was on an entirely different level.
Honestly, if someone told me those two were siblings, I'd believe it.
"…As much as I hate to say it," Bakugo continued, "that guy's strong. I can't believe Todoroki's losing to him."
"…Yeah," I muttered. "His quirk is Overdrive, right? What does it actually do?"
"It multiplies his power every time he gets hit."
"…The hell? That's ridiculously overpowered."
Bakugo shot me a sideways look full of disdain.
Coming from you?
That look said.
Multiple quirks. Son of the strongest villain alive.
"…Then what's the catch?" I asked.
"I heard there's massive recoil after every use," he replied. "But I don't see it. Not even once."
And then—
The fight ended.
It was never fair.
Shoto pushed back—harder than most could. He forced openings, landed clean hits—but every strike only fed Ethan Cross. With each exchange, the gap widened.
By the end, it wasn't a contest.
Shoto wasn't devastated—he never was—but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.
---
The next day—
Block One, Second Match.
Zhang Meilin dismantled Baek Ji-ho with frightening ease. It wasn't even considered fair play.
That same day—
Block Two, Second Match.
Bakugo defeated Ishaan Patel.
It wasn't easy. Ishaan fought smart, but Bakugo overwhelmed him with sheer force, ruthless timing, and battlefield awareness.
…I'm looking forward to facing him.
---
The following day—
It was finally my turn.
Fully recovered.
Cleared for battle.
My opponent—
Jade Miller.
America.
Her quirk… Speed?
Aren't I fast too?
We entered the arena.
Some spectators glared openly at me.
Expected.
I used the substitute method at the most important stage. People weren't going to forget that.
I didn't care.
I was finally going to fight.
"…I'm looking forward to fighting you, Jade Miller-san," I said.
"Don't think you can seduce me too, you womanizer," she snapped.
"…Sorry, I think you misunderstand—"
"Don't think you can fool me," she cut in.
…Looks like I've built quite the reputation.
The voice echoed through the arena.
> "Izuku Midoriya versus Jade Miller—BEGIN."
She vanished.
Pain exploded across my face.
No—
She didn't vanish.
She moved.
So fast it looked like teleportation.
Another hit slammed into my jaw.
Then my ribs.
Then my back.
I staggered, barely keeping my footing.
A speedster…
This wasn't what I imagined.
Even One For All at 100% couldn't replicate this kind of raw movement.
I couldn't see her.
Danger Sense screamed—but by the time my body responded, I was already hit.
Again.
And again.
And again.
My vision blurred.
"Damn it—!"
One For All: Full Cowl—80%!
Green lightning burst across my body as I lunged forward—
And still—
I couldn't catch her.
She danced around me effortlessly, footsteps cracking the arena floor.
Shit.
This is bad.
"What's wrong?" her voice echoed from nowhere.
"The so-called womanizer can't catch a single woman?"
I clenched my teeth.
If this keeps going—
I'll lose.
Another strike crashed into my temple.
My legs wobbled.
How long has it been since I've been hit this much…?
My breathing grew heavy.
No.
No—I can't lose. Not here.
I stopped moving.
Completely.
"…Did he give up?" someone in the stands muttered.
Jade appeared behind me—
And missed.
I shifted at the last instant.
"What—?!"
She attacked again.
Miss.
Again.
Miss.
---
Jade Miller — POV
This doesn't make sense.
I'm faster.
That was clear from the start. His eyes chased shadows I'd already left behind. Every hit landed. Every exchange favored me.
So why—
Why am I missing?
No. Focus.
I accelerated, pushing my quirk harder. The world blurred. The ground cracked beneath my feet.
He shouldn't even know where I am.
I went for his blind spot—rear left, low angle—
He moved.
Not after.
Before.
My eyes widened.
That wasn't prediction.
That wasn't luck.
That was instinct.
Impossible.
He's not Ethan Cross.
That monster didn't dodge—you hit him, and he simply grew. Like a landslide you couldn't stop.
Midoriya shouldn't feel like that.
And yet—
I attacked again. Faster. Sharper.
Miss.
Again.
Miss.
My chest tightened.
Why does it feel like I'm the one being chased now?
I pushed harder.
Pain flared through my legs—warning signs—but I ignored them.
"How are you dodging my attacks?!" I shouted.
He didn't answer.
That silence was worse than mockery.
For the first time—
Doubt crept in.
---
From the stands—
"…What's happening?" Zhang Meilin murmured.
"It's like he's reacting before she attacks."
Bakugo crossed his arms.
"He's slower," he said. "But his body knows."
"…Knows what?"
"Where the attack will be," Bakugo replied.
"That only happens after countless battles—when instinct moves faster than thought."
Zhang frowned. "That shouldn't be possible."
Bakugo smirked faintly.
"Yeah. I don't get it either."
His eyes sharpened.
"But I know one thing."
"That damn nerd doesn't give up."
---
Final Stand — Jade POV
No.
I'm not done yet.
I gathered everything.
Every ounce of speed. Every reserve. Every reckless fraction I had left.
My muscles screamed.
My vision narrowed.
This was it.
One decisive strike.
I vanished—faster than before—pushing past my limit, tearing through the arena like a bullet.
I'll break through.
Then—
He stepped forward.
Not chasing.
Not retreating.
Meeting me.
He's not reacting—he's choosing.
The realization hit a split second too late.
Impact.
The world flipped.
Pain exploded through my torso as I was launched sideways, skidding, bouncing—
I slammed into the barrier hard enough to rattle my bones.
Air left my lungs.
I dropped to one knee, coughing.
So this is it…
I looked up.
Midoriya Izuku stood there—bruised, breathing hard—
Yet unmoving.
Unshaken.
Not towering.
Not overwhelming.
But absolute.
For a moment—
He looked just like Ethan Cross.
Not in power.
But in presence.
A wall you couldn't pass.
"…So that's what you are," I whispered.
My legs refused to obey.
I tried to stand.
They gave out.
---
Back to Izuku
I exhaled slowly.
"I'm not faster than you," I said quietly.
I took one step forward.
"But you're predictable."
The announcement echoed through the arena.
> "Winner—Izuku Midoriya."
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
The stadium exploded.
Cheers crashed over the arena like a tidal wave.
"HE WON—!!"
"THAT WAS INSANE!"
I froze for half a second, the sound hitting me harder than any punch.
They were cheering.
For me.
Not polite applause.
Not restrained acknowledgment.
Real cheers.
The kind that rattled the air, shook the stands, and made my chest tighten.
I looked up.
People were on their feet.
Some yelling my name.
Some shouting in disbelief.
Some just screaming, overwhelmed by what they'd seen.
"MIDORIYA!"
"IZUKU!"
"JAPAN—!!"
Even those who had glared at me earlier—those who doubted me because of the substitute method—were cheering now.
I clenched my fists slowly.
…So this is what it feels like.
It feels good.
From the stands, Bakugo scoffed.
"Tch," he muttered, though a sharp grin tugged at his lips.
"About damn time."
On the ground, Jade Miller lay still, staring up at the lights.
The noise washed over her.
She closed her eyes.
Yeah…
That wall isn't moving anytime soon.
I bowed my head once—to the audience, to my opponent, to myself—
As the cheers continued to roar.
It felt like the entire arena was moving with me—like the crowd wasn't watching anymore, but advancing, pushing the moment forward.
People stood.
Seats snapped shut behind them.
The chant sharpened.
"IZU-KU! IZU-KU!"
From somewhere above—
"Did you see how calm he was…?"
"He didn't rush. He waited."
"That was terrifying."
"…Why is that terrifying kind of hot?"
A girl near the aisle didn't even try to lower her voice.
"Bruised suits him way too well."
Another laughed breathlessly.
"That's actually unfair—look at him. He's so fucking hot."
Green sparks still flickered faintly along my arms.
The crowd noticed instantly.
A surge of noise crashed down.
"He's still standing like that—!"
"LOOK AT HIS EYES—!"
"That's MIDORIYA—!"
The chant shifted again.
Deeper.
Unified.
"MI-DO-RI-YA!"
On the arena floor, Jade was still kneeling, one hand pressed to the ground, breathing hard.
The noise rolled over her like a wave.
Not hostile.
Not mocking.
Overwhelming.
I walked toward her.
Each step felt heavier than the last—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of thousands of eyes tracking the movement.
The chant followed me.
"MI-DO-RI-YA!"
"MI-DO-RI-YA!"
I stopped in front of her.
The chant was still there—distant, heavy—but muted, like the world had narrowed to just the two of us.
Jade was breathing hard, one knee still on the floor, sweat dripping down her chin. She didn't look away when I stepped closer.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
I held out my hand.
She blinked, eyes flicking from my hand to my face.
"…You don't have to," she said, voice rough.
"I know," I replied.
That was all.
She let out a quiet breath—something between a scoff and a laugh.
"…Figures," she muttered.
Her fingers closed around mine.
I pulled her up, steady but careful, making sure she found her balance before letting go.
The moment she stood fully upright—
The crowd roared.
She stood there for a second, eyes unfocused, letting the noise crash over her. Then she glanced sideways at me.
"…You're annoying," she said flatly.
I smiled.
"I get that a lot. You're fast," I answered. "I couldn't mess up even once."
"OOOOH—!!"
"THAT'S A HERO!"
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
"IZUKU—!!"
The chant returned—stronger, heavier, impossible to ignore.
"MI-DO-RI-YA I-ZU-KU!"
"MI-DO-RI-YA I-ZU-KU!"
This time, it wasn't frantic.
It was deliberate.
Like they were naming something that had already decided itself.
Jade steadied her footing, then exhaled slowly.
"…So this is how it feels," she murmured, half to herself.
I released her hand and stepped back.
She faced the crowd.
Not defeated.
Just… finished.
We both bowed once to the audience.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
The cheers only grew louder.
And in that moment, I understood—
This wasn't just about winning a match.
It was about presence.
About becoming something people couldn't look away from.