Great Expectations

I sat beside Momo's bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept. The quiet of the infirmary was broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional rustle of sheets as Momo shifted in her slumber.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Jiro slipping into the room, her arms laden with snacks from the vending machine. She made her way over to us, dropping into the seat next to mine and offering me a bag of chips.

I took it with a grateful nod, the crinkle of the packaging seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness of the room. Recovery Girl glanced over at us from her desk, a knowing smile on her face.

"You two are good friends," she said, her voice gentle. "Yaoyorozu is lucky to have you."

I felt a warmth bloom in my chest at her words. "We're the lucky ones," I said softly, my gaze drifting back to Momo's face. "She's... she's incredible."

Jiro hummed in agreement, popping a chip into her mouth. "Damn straight. Our girl's a certified badass."

Recovery Girl chuckled, shaking her head. "Language, young lady. But yes, Yaoyorozu certainly proved herself out there today."

I nodded, my mind drifting back to Momo's match, to the way she had adapted and strategized on the fly. It was a testament to her brilliance, her unwavering determination.

Jiro nudged me, pulling me from my thoughts. She gestured to the television mounted on the wall, where the match between Eijiro and Tetsutetsu was just wrapping up.

"Looks like it was a draw," she said, leaning forward to get a better look. "They're going to settle it with an arm wrestling match."

I blinked, surprised. "Wow. Those two are really evenly matched."

Recovery Girl nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Their quirks are quite similar. It makes sense that they would cancel each other out in a direct confrontation."

As the next match was announced, I felt Jiro tense beside me. "Bakugo versus Uraraka," she said, her voice tight with concern. "Do you think he'll go easy on her?"

I didn't hesitate, my response immediate and certain. "No. Kacchan doesn't know how to go easy. It's not in his nature."

Jiro frowned, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against her thigh. "But Uraraka... she's tough, but her quirk isn't really suited for direct combat. How is she going to stand a chance against Bakugo's explosions?"

"It won't be easy," I admitted. "But if I were in her shoes, with her quirk... I think I'd focus on using the environment to my advantage."

Jiro cocked her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I spoke. "Uraraka's quirk allows her to nullify gravity, right? So instead of trying to go head-to-head with Kacchan, I'd use that to my advantage."

I could see it in my mind's eye, the pieces clicking into place. "I'd touch as many pieces of rubble and debris as I could, making them weightless. Then, I'd use them as a kind of shield, a way to block or deflect Kacchan's blasts."

Jiro nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Like a floating barricade. That could work."

"But that's just the start," I continued, the plan unfolding in my head. "The real key would be to use Kacchan's own power against him. Every time he lets off an explosion, it creates a shockwave, a burst of force. If Uraraka could time it just right..."

"She could use that force to propel her floating debris right back at him," Jiro finished, her eyes widening with realization. "Like a makeshift projectile!"

"Exactly," I said, a grin tugging at my lips. "It would take split-second timing and a lot of precise control, but if she could pull it off, she could turn Kacchan's greatest strength into a weakness."

I sat back, my gaze drifting to Momo's sleeping form. "Of course, that's all just hypothetical. In the end, it comes down to the individual fighter, their instincts, their adaptability in the moment."

Jiro followed my gaze, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Like Momo did. She took everything you taught her and made it her own out there."

I felt a swell of pride in my chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the cozy confines of the infirmary. "She did," I agreed, my voice low and filled with affection. "She trusted herself, trusted her training. And look where it got her."

We lapsed into silence, the weight of unsaid things hanging in the air between us. On the screen, the match between Bakugo and Uraraka began, the roar of the crowd filtering through the speakers.

I watched the screen as Uraraka made her move. She lunged for Bakugo, her hand outstretched, determination etched into every line of her face.

But Bakugowas ready for her. With a blast that shook the stadium, he sent her flying back, the force of his explosion rippling through the air.

Uraraka hit the ground hard, but she was up again in an instant, her eyes blazing. She feinted left, then right, trying to find an opening, a way past Bakugo's defenses.

Bakugo's eyes narrowed, his hands sparking with barely restrained power. He reached for Uraraka's fallen jacket, expecting to find her there, ready to counter.

But Uraraka was one step ahead. She came at him from behind, her fingers brushing against his shoulder.

For a split second, I thought she had him. But Kacchan's reflexes were lightning fast. He whirled, another explosion bursting from his palm, slamming into Uraraka at point-blank range.

She crashed to the ground again, her body crumpling like a rag doll. But still, she struggled to rise, her teeth gritted against the pain.

Kacchan didn't let up. Explosion after explosion rocked the arena, the force of his attacks sending Uraraka tumbling, her body battered and bruised.

The TV picked up the crowd erupting in a chorus of boos, their voices rising in a tide of anger and disapproval.

"Hey, he's going too far!"

"Isn't he supposed to be a hero? This is just brutal!"

"Someone stop the match! She's defenseless!"

They didn't understand. They couldn't see what I saw, couldn't comprehend the depth of respect, of acknowledgment, in Kacchan's relentless assault.

On the screen, Mr. Aizawa's voice cut through the clamor, calm and measured. "You're all missing the point," he said, his tone flat. "Bakugo is not letting his guard down. He knows the strength of his opponent, and he's treating her with the respect she deserves."

I nodded, even though no one could see me. Aizawa was right. Kacchan wasn't being cruel. He was being a hero, giving his all, holding nothing back.

Because to do anything less... it would be an insult. A dismissal of Uraraka's own strength, her own determination.

Uraraka seemed to understand this too. Even as she lay there, her body broken and battered, she looked up at Kacchan with a smile. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice carried by the cameras, "for not letting your guard down."

And then, with a final, desperate effort, she put her hands together. "Release."

It was like watching a meteor shower, a thousand tiny projectiles hurtling towards Kacchan in a glittering, deadly barrage.

But Kacchan... he didn't flinch. With a roar that shook the stadium, he unleashed a blast that dwarfed everything that had come before. A hurricane of force and fury that shattered the rubble, reducing Uraraka's final gambit to dust.

When the smoke cleared, Uraraka lay still, her body motionless on the cracked and pitted ground. Midnight was at her side in an instant, checking for signs of life.

"Uraraka is unable to continue!" she declared, her voice ringing out over the sudden, stunned silence. "Bakugo wins!"

As the medic bots rushed onto the field, I sat back in my chair, my heart hammering in my chest. Beside me, Jiro let out a shaky breath.

"That was intense," she murmured. "I've never seen Bakugo go that hard before."

I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the screen. "He had to," I said softly. "Anything less would have been a disservice to Uraraka, to the effort she put in."

Jiro was quiet for a moment, considering this. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... hard to watch sometimes, you know?"

I did know. It was never easy, seeing your friends put through the wringer, seeing them pushed to their limits and beyond.

But that was the life we had chosen. The path of a hero was never meant to be easy.

A soft groan pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Momo stirring, her eyelids fluttering open.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly as her overtaxed muscles protested the movement. Recovery Girl's quirk had healed the worst of her injuries, but the strain of the battle still lingered.

"Here," I said, reaching for the bag of snacks Jiro had brought. "You should eat something. You need to replenish your lipids after using your quirk so much."

Momo took the bag gratefully, tearing into a packet of cookies with a ravenous appetite. As she ate, color slowly returned to her cheeks, the exhaustion and strain of her battle fading away.

"So," she said between bites, "what did I miss? Who else has fought?"

Jiro and I took turns filling her in, recounting the intense battles and surprising upsets of the first round. Momo listened intently, her eyes widening at the description of Uraraka's valiant stand against Kacchan.

"She really gave it her all," Momo murmured, a note of respect in her voice. "To face Bakugo head-on like that... it's incredible."

I nodded, my gaze distant as I recalled the battle. "They both did. Kacchan didn't hold back, and Uraraka wouldn't have had it any other way. They pushed each other to their limits, and beyond."

Just then, Present Mic's voice boomed through the speakers, echoing through the infirmary.

"And with that, folks, we've reached the end of our thrilling first round! But don't go anywhere, because we'll be back in just 20 short minutes with the start of round two! Our remaining competitors better use this time wisely, because from here on out, things are only going to get more intense!"

Momo took a deep breath, a flicker of determination passing over her face. "Round two," she said, her voice steady despite her lingering fatigue. "Alright. Let's do this."

As the 20-minute break ticked away, I found myself growing restless. I stood, giving Momo's hand a final squeeze. "I should head to the waiting room," I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Need to get my head in the game before the match."

Momo nodded. "Of course. Go, do what you need to do."

Jiro grinned, reaching out to punch me lightly on the shoulder. "Give 'em hell, wonder boy."

I returned her grin. "You know it. I'll give it everything I've got, and then some."

With a final nod, I turned and strode out of the infirmary, my steps measured and purposeful. The hallways were quiet, most of the spectators and competitors still milling about in the stadium.

But as I rounded a corner, I found my path blocked by a figure that I'd only seen on TV. Tall and broad, with flames licking at his beard and a permanent scowl etched into his features...

Endeavor. Todoroki's father, the man who had pushed his son to the brink in his relentless pursuit of power.

"Midoriya," he rumbled. "I've been waiting for you."

I stopped short, my guard immediately up. What could he possibly want with me, mere minutes before my match with his son?

"Endeavor," I said, my tone carefully neutral. "Can I help you with something?"

His eyes narrowed, a calculating glint in their depths. "I've been watching you, boy. Your quirk, your strength... it's impressive. Possibly even enough to rival All Might someday."

Coming from anyone else, they might have been a compliment. But from him...

"I'm flattered," I said, my voice flat. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a match to prepare for."

I made to step around him, but his hand shot out, gripping my shoulder. "Not so fast," he growled. "I have a message for you."

"And what might that be?"

His lips curled into a sneer, a look of pure disdain. "Do your best not to give Shoto a disgraceful match. He has a destiny to fulfill, and I won't have you holding him back."

I shrugged off his hand, my own clenching into fists at my sides. "I'm not All Might," I said, my voice low and intense. "And Shoto isn't you. He's his own person, with his own path to walk."

Endeavor's eyes flashed, a hint of flame dancing in their depths. But I stood my ground, refusing to back down.

"I'll give Shoto the match he deserves," I continued, my words ringing with conviction. "Not because of some twisted sense of destiny, but because he's my friend, my rival. And I respect him too much to give him anything less than my best."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away heading to the entrance, leaving Endeavor standing in the hallway.

The stadium was packed to the rafters, a sea of faces and flashing cameras, all focused on the stage where destiny would be decided.

Across from me, Shoto stood tall and impassive, his face a mask of calm determination. But I could see the fire in his eyes, the tension in his stance. He was ready for this, just as I was.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Present Mic's voice boomed, rising above the din of the crowd. "Are you ready for the main event of the second round?"

The audience responded with a deafening cheer, a tidal wave of sound that shook the very foundations of the arena.

"In the red corner, we have the prodigy of the hero course, the ice-cold powerhouse with a fiery legacy - Shoto Todoroki!"

The crowd roared, a mix of excitement and anticipation. Todoroki's reputation preceded him, his skills and potential the stuff of legend.

"And in the blue corner, the rising star of Class 1-A, the green-haired wonder who's taken this festival by storm - Izuku Midoriya!"

Another roar, this one tinged with a fierce, almost desperate energy. I could feel their expectations, their hopes and dreams, all pinned on me in that moment.

"This is the match we've all been waiting for, folks!" Present Mic continued, his voice rising to a fever pitch. "Two titans of the first year, two quirks that defy belief, facing off in a battle that's sure to go down in U.A. history!"

I tuned out the rest of his spiel, my focus narrowing to the boy across from me. Todoroki, my friend, my rival. The one person in this tournament who truly understood what it meant to carry the weight of a legacy on your shoulders.

Midnight stepped forward, her voice cutting through the anticipation like a knife. "Fighters ready?"

I dropped into a stance, the Tandava humming beneath my skin. Ready was an understatement. I was coiled, poised, every nerve and sinew primed for what was to come.

Todoroki mirrored me, his right foot sliding back, his left hand clenching into a fist. Ice crystals began to form around his fingertips, a chill emanating from his very being.

The world seemed to hold its breath. The stadium had fallen silent, a quiet so profound it was almost ethereal.

And then...

"Begin!"