I stood on the observation deck with the rest of Class 1-A, the morning chill seeping through my hero costume's torn seams. Uraraka bounced beside me, her breath puffing in the cold.
"Todoroki and Yaoyorozu are gonna crush this, right, Deku?" Her optimism was infectious, but I caught Momo's nervous glance below, her hands fidgeting with her Creation-quirk book.
Todoroki stood stoic, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on Aizawa, who adjusted his capture scarf across the field. Bakugo, leaning against the railing, scoffed. "Icy-hot better not screw this up.
And Ponytail's gotta stop overthinking." Iida chopped his hand, glasses glinting. "Their synergy is formidable, but Aizawa-sensei's tactics are unparalleled!"
I nodded, mind racing. Canon memories flickered—Todoroki and Momo's exam against Aizawa was a test of strategy over power, his Erasure quirk nullifying their quirks unless they outsmarted him.
But this Aizawa wasn't the cold, distant teacher of early days. Over the semester—through the USJ attack, Stain's chaos, my own resurrection of Tensei—he'd softened, his care for us buried under that gruff exterior.
He'd pushed me hardest yesterday, scarf lashing, eyes blazing, but his nod after my win held pride, not judgment. Now, he faced Todoroki and Momo, and I knew he'd tailor the fight to their growth, not just victory.
The system stayed silent—no quests, no pulls. Oceanus, the primordial voice of my Sacred Gear, stirred faintly: The sea watches, young tide. Their flames and steel must flow as one. I leaned forward, water ki sense at 60% passively scanning the arena's moisture—leaking pipes, dew on rubble, ready if I needed it. But this was their stage.
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Training Ground Beta: Todoroki & Yaoyorozu vs. Aizawa
Aizawa stood at the field's center, goggles glinting, scarf coiling like a living thing. His voice carried, dry but firm. "Todoroki, Yaoyorozu. Defeat me or reach the escape gate in 30 minutes. Show me you've learned something."
Todoroki's left side flared briefly, frost curling the air, while Momo adjusted her utility belt, eyes darting as she calculated. The arena was a rebuilt urban sprawl—mock buildings, twisted rebar, and scattered puddles from my fight, giving Momo material to work with and Todoroki environmental control.
Aizawa's Erasure was the hurdle: one glance, and their quirks would vanish, leaving them to raw skill and teamwork.
The buzzer sounded. Aizawa moved first, scarf snapping toward Momo like a viper. She dove, rolling behind a concrete slab, her Creation quirk sparking as she produced a small shield—titanium, light but sturdy.
Todoroki reacted instantly, a wave of ice surging from his right side, 10 meters wide, aiming to pin Aizawa. The teacher's eyes flashed red, hair rising—Erasure activated.
The ice halted mid-formation, collapsing into slush, and Todoroki's fire side dimmed, quirkless. Momo's shield stayed, already created, but her next attempt—a staff—fizzled as Aizawa's gaze locked on her.
"Too slow!" Aizawa barked, vaulting over the slab, scarf lashing at Todoroki's ankles. Todoroki dodged, his training with Endeavor showing in fluid footwork, but without his quirk, he was human—strong, but outmatched.
Momo scrambled, pulling a flashbang from her belt—pre-made, safe from Erasure—and lobbed it. The burst blinded Aizawa momentarily, his eyes blinking, hair dropping.
Todoroki's ice roared back, a jagged wall forcing Aizawa to leap back. Momo seized the moment, Creation glowing as she produced a net launcher, firing weighted cords at Aizawa. He spun, scarf deflecting the net, but the distraction let Todoroki close in, aiming a quirkless punch.
Aizawa caught the fist, twisting Todoroki into a hold, scarf tightening around his arms. "Relying on power alone, Todoroki? Disappointing." His tone wasn't cruel—sharp, but laced with challenge, like he believed Todoroki could do better.
Momo gasped, hesitating, her hand hovering over her book. I clenched the railing, muttering, "Come on, Momo, you've got this." Uraraka nudged me. "She's overthinking again, isn't she?" I nodded. Momo's Creation was limitless, but her doubt was the real enemy.
Todoroki broke free, rolling away as Aizawa's eyes blinked again—Erasure's limit, dry eyes forcing brief pauses. Fire erupted from Todoroki's left side, a controlled burst aimed at Aizawa's feet, scorching the ground.
Aizawa vaulted, scarf snaring a lamppost for leverage, swinging to flank Momo. She yelped, Creation sparking—a smoke grenade, tossed hastily, clouding the air.
Aizawa's goggles cut through the haze, his scarf wrapping Momo's wrist, yanking her forward. Todoroki intervened, ice spiking from the ground, forcing Aizawa to release her or be impaled.
Erasure flashed again, ice crumbling, but Momo used the moment, producing a bo staff, swinging it at Aizawa's legs.
He dodged, but his expression flickered—approval, buried deep. "Better," he grunted, scarf lashing both students simultaneously. Todoroki took the hit, scarf binding his chest, while Momo ducked, Creation glowing as she formed a small EMP device.
She hesitated, glancing at Todoroki, who nodded sharply. "Do it, Yaoyorozu!" The EMP fired, a pulse disrupting Aizawa's comms and goggles, forcing him to blink.
Quirks returned—Todoroki's ice surged, a 15-meter rampart encircling Aizawa, while Momo produced a grappling hook, firing it toward a distant building, aiming for the escape gate.
Aizawa wasn't done. His scarf shredded the ice, his agility defying his tired demeanor. He sprinted, closing on Momo as she swung across the arena, Todoroki covering with a fire wave—not to hit Aizawa, but to obscure his line of sight.
Erasure faltered, Aizawa blinking rapidly, and Momo landed near the gate, only 50 meters away. Todoroki caught up, ice forming a shield to block Aizawa's next scarf toss. But Aizawa was relentless, vaulting over the shield, landing between them and the gate.
"Not yet," he said, voice low, almost encouraging. His care showed—not in words, but in the way he fought, pushing them to grow, not break.
Momo's hands shook, her book open, but Todoroki's calm voice cut through. "Yaoyorozu, you're the plan. I trust you." Her eyes widened, doubt wavering. She nodded, Creation flaring as she produced a complex device—a sonic disruptor, tuned to Aizawa's hearing range.
She tossed it, the high-pitched wail forcing him to cover his ears, scarf dropping. Todoroki seized the opening, fire and ice combining—a steaming mist cloud, hiding them both. They sprinted, Momo firing another grappling hook, Todoroki boosting her with an ice slide toward the gate.
Aizawa recovered, scarf snaring the hook's rope, yanking Momo back. She gasped, but Todoroki's fire roared, burning the scarf's edge, freeing her. They were 20 meters from the gate, Aizawa closing fast, his eyes red again, quirks nullified.
Momo didn't hesitate this time—her Creation sparked, producing a simple cloth strip, which she tossed at Aizawa's face. He caught it, but the distraction let Todoroki tackle him, quirkless strength pinning Aizawa for a split second.
Momo ran, reaching the gate, Todoroki a step behind. Aizawa broke free, scarf lashing, but the buzzer sounded—they'd crossed the line.
"Pass," Aizawa said, panting, his scarf limp. His eyes softened, just for a moment. "You worked together. Good." Momo exhaled, tears of relief in her eyes, while Todoroki gave a rare smile, clapping her shoulder.
"You did it." The deck erupted—Uraraka cheering, Kirishima fist-pumping, even Bakugo grunting approval. I grinned, heart swelling. Aizawa cared, pushing them to shine, not fail. His nod to them mirrored the one he'd given me yesterday—pride, unspoken but real.
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Post-Match Reflection
The observation deck buzzed as Todoroki and Momo rejoined us, Momo clutching her book, confidence newfound. "I... we did it," she said, voice shaky but proud. Todoroki's calm, "You led us," was high praise.
Aizawa debriefed below, his voice carrying via comms: "Todoroki, your balance of fire and ice is improving, but don't lean on power. Yaoyorozu, your hesitation nearly cost you. Trust your instincts." His tone wasn't cold—gruff, yes, but laced with belief in their potential. He cared, deeply, even if he'd never say it.
Class 1-A dispersed for lunch, the next matches—Uraraka and Aoyama versus Thirteen, others pending—set for the afternoon. I lingered, watching Aizawa adjust his scarf, his tired eyes scanning the arena.
He'd fought to teach, not crush, a shift from the canon's harsher Eraser Head. My own fight yesterday, drowning the faculty in Ocean's tides, felt like a distant dream.
In the cafeteria, Momo sat beside me, her usual poise returning. "Midoriya, your fight yesterday... it inspired me to keep going today." I flushed, scratching my neck. "You and Todoroki were amazing. That sonic disruptor? Genius."
She smiled, a rare softness. Todoroki joined us, his quiet presence steadying. Bakugo, at a nearby table, snorted, "Don't get cocky, Ponytail." But his glance at Todoroki held respect, not rivalry.
The system stayed silent, no new pulls or quests. Oceanus rumbled, The sea strengthens its allies. Your tide lifts them. I nodded internally, sipping juice, my mind on the camp ahead.
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Afternoon's Edge
The afternoon loomed, matches pending. I stood, stretching, my costume's tears itching but ignored—no Senzu yet, not for pride's sake. Uraraka bounced over, nervous but eager.
"Deku, any tips for facing Thirteen?" I smiled, mind racing with canon knowledge and my own fights. "Her Black Hole pulls everything, so anchor yourself or use ranged attacks. You and Aoyama can outmaneuver her."
She nodded, determination flaring. Iida approached, lecturing on "strategic preparation," while Todoroki watched silently, his fire side flickering faintly.
Aizawa called us back to the deck, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Next matches begin in one hour. Prepare." His eyes met mine, a flicker of something—trust, maybe. He knew I'd pushed the class forward, just as he'd pushed Todoroki and Momo.