Chapter 14

"Pretty close one there, Midoriya," Ojiro laughs.

Izuku winces as he takes a seat in the stands with Ojiro on one side, and Iida and Uraraka on the other. He's fresh off of a conversation with All-Might with a few things to think about. But that's okay, because he's retrieved Mika for the time being, and Mika has this strange ability to make his thoughts less… loud. Now, she settles easily into his lap, purring when Iida reaches over to give her ears a scratch. "Sorry, Ojiro," he says with a sheepish grin. "Even after all your help, I still almost blew it."

"It's cool—what matters is, you pulled through," his classmate tells him.

"I have to admit, I didn't catch what you did, Midoriya," says Iida. "The angle was wrong, and I didn't have a good view."

"Yeah, you moved really fast," Uraraka adds. "It looks like you scratched yourself pretty bad, though. Is your face okay?"

"Does it look bad?" Izuku rubs at his still-tender skin. It still stings a bit from Rei's nails, but he's not bleeding and it doesn't appear to have broken skin, so there was no need for Recovery Girl's help.

"It's not too bad," she assures him. "Mainly just looks like welts."

"That was pretty cool, though, that you muscled out of that mind control." Ojiro looks sheepish. "I don't know if I could have pulled that off."

"Well I have a pretty thick skull, apparently," Izuku laughs nervously. The less he says about how he broke free, the better. Eager to change the subject, he turns back to the match about to take place before them. He leans forward eagerly, focusing on the two figures in the ring below. Sero stands on one side, Todoroki on the other.

It's not that he disrespects Sero in any way. But if he were the betting type, his money would be on Todoroki. Still, though, it's worth it to see how this match goes, either way. Whoever he ends up facing, he hopes at least that he can get some good data out of watching this match. It'd be nice to see if fighting Sero can expose any weaknesses in Todoroki, or vice ver—

CRACK.

…Or it'll end in three seconds and wow, Izuku really needs to pee all of a sudden.

There is a glacier jutting out over the top of the stadium, jagged spikes stretching toward the sky. It creaks and groans under its own weight, but aside from that, for a few glorious seconds, the stands are dead quiet.

At the base of the glacier, Sero is almost entirely encased in ice. His voice sails out through the air, shaking with cold.

"That was a little much, doncha think?"

There's a space of about six feet between the spot where Todoroki's standing, and the very edge of where the glacier begins. The gap between Todoroki and Sero himself is even wider. Izuku's close enough to see Todoroki shake as he closes that distance.

He sees Todoroki say something, but the distance coupled with the calls of encouragement from the crowd—all aimed at Sero—make it impossible to hear. Sero responds, and Todoroki starts melting the ice that he just created.

His shoulders slump, and there's something in his posture, some angle of his spine, that betrays a sense of misery. There's no triumph here. Not even relief over a quick victory.

He just seems… alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he's vaguely aware of Uraraka reaching over Iida to give him a comforting four-fingered pat on the shoulder. "Nice knowing you, Deku," she says.

Izuku can't tear his eyes away, for all that there's nothing helpful that he can glean from this. What can he possibly learn? That his next opponent can one-shot someone from six to nine feet away?

Six to nine feet

Rei's cold hands clutch at his sleeve, and Mika rolls over in his lap to do paw-presses against his stomach.

Six to nine feet

That is so much room—

Izuku shifts forward in his seat so abruptly that he nearly dislodges his cat. He stares, eyes wide, mouth half-open, first at Todoroki, then at the gradually melting glacier, and then down at his own two hands.

"Midoriya?" Iida nudges him gently. "Are you quite all right?"

"Something wrong with your hands?" Ojiro asks.

"Not yet," he says.

"Not… yet?" Ojiro echoes.

"I'm trying to decide," Izuku explains, still considering his hands. "Which finger I can fight without." He pauses, mind racing, and frowns down at the ring and the ice and his next opponent. "Thumbs are right out. I'm gonna need my thumbs."

"Ooookay," Ojiro mutters.

"Deku, what's up?" Uraraka asks. "You look kind of funny right now."

"I think I know what to do," he says. He feels a tug at the corners of his mouth. "It's not foolproof, but." Piece by piece, some semblance of a plan takes form in his head. He turns to Uraraka, and the tugging is too much to resist, so he smiles until his lips part and he's half-sure they can see his gums. "I have an idea."

Iida looks worried. Uraraka looks excited. In his lap, Mika shifts to a more comfortable position and purrs.

The first round of matches goes by. Part of Izuku wants to go out and talk to ghosts again, but mostly he can't stand the thought of missing any of his classmates' matches. Rei wanders off to amuse herself, and Izuku settles in to watch his friends and acquaintances face off against each other. He sees Kaminari face off with Ibara from Class B, and then the somewhat baffling match between Iida and Hatsume, and that's when Uraraka excuses herself to go to a waiting room. Her match is coming up—she's fighting Bakugou first.

Izuku really, really hopes she can beat him.

Not long after Uraraka leaves, Izuku gathers up his cat and makes his way out of the stands to join his friends. The ghosts are quiet and calm. The poltergeist is nowhere to be found.

Uraraka loses.

It's hard to watch. Not because Bakugou crushes her—far from it. It hurts because she gets so far, and she gets so close. Her strategy is reckless, desperate, and absolutely ingenious. Izuku would like to think he could have come up with something like that in her place, but he isn't sure. She gives it her all, and Izuku can't help but wonder what it would have been like to face her himself.

For now, he's not going to find out. Because no matter how hard she fights and how smart she fights, her best just isn't enough against Bakugou.

Izuku's best has been losing to Bakugou since before Bakugou even had a quirk. He knows it has to hurt. He's memorized that sting so well that he can feel it himself as Uraraka's carried out of the stadium on a stretcher.

(Bakugou doesn't gloat, later. He doesn't complain about how close she came to winning. Maybe he sees how good she is, too.)

Rei helps him track her down later, after Recovery Girl has released her. On the way, Izuku fumbles with words in his mind, struggling to untangle them and string them together into something that might make things better. He's shocked when he walks into the room and she greets him with a bright smile that stretches her mouth to its limits. She looks tired but mostly unhurt. Izuku has been bracing himself for crushing disappointment, and is wholly unprepared for her bashful optimism.

"Darn it," she says. "I guess I lost after all, haha!"

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm so bummed." She laughs, shaking her fist in an exaggerated way. "I'll get him next time, though." She smiles at him, her face pink with embarrassment. She won't meet his eyes. "Sorry, Deku. I really wanted to be able to face you today."

"Yeah, me too." He pauses, arms full of cat. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course!" She fist-pumps again. "I just jumped the gun and he got the drop on me, that's all. I'm really bummed out about it, and I just—gotta work on that, y'know?"

Rei is right next to him, but Izuku doesn't need to look at her to know Uraraka's lying. "Yeah—" Present Mic's commentating reaches his ears. From the sound of it, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu's match is nearly done. Round two is up, and that means…

"It's almost time for you to go up again, huh," Uraraka says. "You'd better hurry. I'll be out in a minute—" She smiles so hard that her eyes nearly squinch shut. "I wouldn't miss your match."

"Sure," he says.

He's only a few steps away from the door when he hears her sobbing over the phone.

It's a good thing he's that far away. He's always been far too emotional for his own good. If he were in there with her, he'd probably break down crying, too. As it is, it's all he can do to stand in the hallway and hug his cat to his chest to ward off the tears.

One deep breath later, then two, then three, and he looks down at Mika. He looks back at the waiting room he's only just left. Uraraka's voice is soft, her sobs muffled.

It's a quick decision, and an easy one. Two birds, one stone.

"Uraraka?" He calls her name a few seconds before he gets back to the doorway, to give her time to wipe her eyes and compose herself. (She's quieted, but it never hurts to be safe.) It's easy to pretend he's distracted; with his next match so near, the nervousness is starting to set in. He walks in quickly, already babbling a stream before she can get a word in.

"I really hate to ask this and it's pretty short notice but I only have maybe two minutes and I don't know if I have time to find All-Might and I definitely don't have time to find Aizawa-sensei so could you watch my cat?" He doesn't wait for an answer before plopping Mika into Uraraka's lap.

"Um," she says, bewildered.

He shoots her a quick smile. "Thanks, Uraraka, you're the best!" And with that, he doesn't exactly bolt out of the room, but he does power-walk.

Ochako stares at the empty doorway long after Deku is already gone. Bemusement has stalled her tears for now, and all she can do is blink speechlessly after Deku before looking at the faintly bewildered cat occupying her lap.

"Ochako?" Dad's voice brings the phone back to her ear. "Ochako, what was that? Did something happen?"

"Y-yeah," she answers, and squeaks a little when Deku's cat stands up in her lap, circles a little, and settles down again. "Sorry, Dad, just…" She lowers her free hand to the soft fur, and the low rumble of Mika's purring is almost immediate.

She can't help it. Maybe it's because she's still sort of crying, maybe her emotions are still all over the map, but Ochako sits in the empty waiting room with a purring cat cuddling up to her, and giggles.

"It was one of my friends," she says at last. "I think, um… I think he was trying to cheer me up."

"Well, did it work?" Dad asks.

Mika pushes her head into Ochako's hand, demanding more petting. Ochako's eyes still sting, and her face feels stiff with dried tears, but it still makes her smile. "Little bit," she answers.

"Good. I'm glad you have friends like that, Ochako. I'm proud of you, you hear?"

"Loud and clear, Dad."

She learns an important lesson that day: that crying your eyes out with your best friend's cat purring like a plane engine in your lap is a whole lot better than crying your eyes out all alone.

My little brother's feelings hum like he's full of bees, that's how nervous he is. Nervous for the fight, and nervous for what he's just done, leaving Mika in his friend's lap. The questions buzz in his head, and I can't hear those but I can guess what they are—did I do that okay? Did I make it better instead of worse? Was that right?

(He doesn't need to worry. We're not so far away from her that I can't feel it. It was right. He made it better.)

I would tell him that, but there are more important things to tell him. Like how the angry ghost from before is close, and getting closer. And how the reason why he's close is because—

I tug on my little brother's arm. I point to the nearest corner, where another hallway meets the one we're in. He pauses, and his nervousness spikes when the man walks around the corner wreathed in flames.

That's him. That's Endeavor. The angry ghost is with him, quiet for now but still in a temper. There's a second one along with them, and his smile is not a very nice smile, and his laugh is not a very nice laugh.

Oh hey, you're that kid Suzuki was talking about, he says when he sees my little brother. He nods at Endeavor, smiling his mean smile. Watch out for this asshole, he's in a mood. He bought a thing of water, and I knocked it into his lap. He chewed out the guy next to him. Funniest fuckin' thing I've seen all day.

The angry one doesn't say much. But Endeavor does, and I don't have to dig deep to feel what's inside of him. He wears his anger like armor and his pride like a second skin. Everything is on the outside, and even if I try to dig deep, it goes on and on and on. He's mad and mean and he thinks he's better.

I don't like him.

If he comes too close to my little brother then I'll make him a f r a i d.

Clever of you, he says to my little brother. Winning without even using your quirk. I hope you don't think that will carry you the rest of the way. Especially if you hope to last against my son.

he's a bully he's a bully he's a bully he's a big, stinking bully

But I've heard rumors about you, he says, as my little brother's fear stirs and twists inside of him. About how your quirk is powerful enough to rival All Might's.

His anger peaks, and my little brother makes it look like he isn't strangled by his fear.

"Come away," I tell him with my hands. I don't need to urge him. He's walking faster now. He wants to get away. My little brother doesn't like bullies.

My Shouto has a duty to surpass All-Might, Endeavor says, before we can escape. His match against you will be an excellent first test.

(You are nothing, is what he really says. You are not a challenge. You are something to be stepped over.

He should hope that he doesn't die too soon. If he does, then Mr. Okumura will have to wait his turn.

No one talks to my little brother that way.)

So you'd do well to at least try to give him a proper challenge, Endeavor says. I don't want to see a disgraceful match.

(My little brother's anger spikes, so strong and white-hot that I mistake it for my own. The fear has to move out of the way because now the anger fills him from his heart to his throat.

He would make a frightening ghost.)

He smiles.

Well now I'm torn, he says.

Endeavor asks him why.

I was going to do that anyway, says my little brother. But now I kind of don't want to.

What—

I'm bad at doing what I'm told, my little brother goes on. Ask anyone.

Endeavor bristles, anger sharp like thorns. You—

Don't worry, my little brother says, and keeps walking. I'm not gonna lose out of spite. That'd be stupid.

Endeavor seethes on the inside, but inside or outside doesn't matter to me. Clearly your quirk isn't the only thing similar to All-Might, he says.

I am not All-Might, my little brother says, and his anger burns hot but his voice is cold, cold, cold.

That's obvious, says Endeavor, and he reeks with contempt.

Good, says my little brother. And Todoroki isn't you. That's pretty obvious, too.

Endeavor has nothing to say to that, because now it's his turn to choke on his own anger. I laugh and laugh and laugh.

Better hurry, my little brother says as he walks away. I bet if you're fast, you can get a new drink before the match starts.

It's too bad he's walking away, because he misses the look on Endeavor's face. Hino laughs with me, and my brother's anger makes him smile with all his teeth.

Rei stays on the sidelines as Izuku walks into the ring. The walk from the hallways out into the stadium has calmed his anger and at least some of his nerves. It's hard to quiet all of them with Todoroki watching him intently as they wait for the signal from Midnight.

When it comes, Izuku barely hears Todoroki's voice over the roaring in his own ears.

"Nothing personal," Todoroki says, and Izuku is already off and running.

This first part may be the most important. If he messes this up, then it's all over before it even begins. He's afraid to blink; he's afraid that if he shuts his eyes even for a split second, he'll miss something, or he'll trip, or he'll get the timing wrong. And for this, timing is absolutely everything.

He's maybe nine feet away, and his eyes are on Todoroki's hands. The sweeping motion of Todoroki's arm is familiar; Izuku recognizes it from just a split second before Sero lost.

At that moment, his eyes move from Todoroki to the ground between them, and he sees the ice rapidly spreading—not just spreading, but growing. By the time it reaches him it'll be high enough to encase him and end the match.

Time slows as Izuku steels himself and leaps as high as he can without his quirk. He points his left arm straight down, holding his wrist in his right hand to brace it.

Now or never

He pours One For All into his left pinky and flicks. Adrenaline keeps the burst of pain to a manageable level, and he muffles his cry of pain. The ice below, previously rising up to trap him, explodes beneath a shockwave of air, springboarding him higher into the air. The impact sends ice shards and mist flying, and he lands in the thick of it.

The landing jars his ankles but doesn't injure him, and he's already moving again the moment his feet touch the ground. The mist is disorienting but far from blinding, and he can see Todoroki just a few feet away, blinking in surprise.

Izuku comes at him from the left side, arm cocked back, and punches Todoroki straight in the eye.

He's rewarded by Todoroki's grunt of pain, and it takes every ounce of self control not to make one of his own. In his mind he can already hear the lecture he's probably going to get from Ms. Shimura.

If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, short stack, your finger bones are delicate flowers. Skulls have one job, and that job is to keep your squishy little brain from getting splattered. If you introduce one to the other, you won't need One For All to crunch your hand.

He's pretty sure his fingers aren't broken, but if they are then it's nowhere near what his quirk normally does. So he doesn't let up. He can't afford to let up. Todoroki staggers under that first punch, and Izuku aims another toward his ribs before he can recover.

On the left side. Always on the left side.

It doesn't take long for Todoroki to catch up, but Izuku keeps at it, chasing that left side and aiming blow after blow. If he goes for Todoroki's right then he might get frozen, but if he goes for the left then he has Todoroki's own words confirming that there's a pretty low chance of him getting burned. Todoroki himself is starting to see this; Izuku keeps weaving, keeps going for that left side, so Todoroki throws punches and kicks of his own. They're mere seconds in, and it's devolved into a slugfest.

His right fist still aches from the first punch, and his left has one useless finger, but he still has legs and he still has elbows. He still has a perfectly good skull, if it comes to that.

The plan is almost disgustingly simple: aim for the one glaring weakness he knows Todoroki has. Hit hard enough to rattle him and destroy his concentration so he can't get his head together to use his quirk. And above all, don't let him get too far away.

He'd realized it when he saw the space between Todoroki and the giant glacier that took out Sero: Todoroki's ice needs room to grow. It makes him good with long range, and not so good when his opponent's right up in his face. So Izuku breathes when he can, and stays in his opponent's face.

Besides that first blast, he hasn't even activated his quirk. And yet, from the looks of it, it's working.

He can still sense the gap between them. Todoroki is hard to read; there's no warning and no time to duck Todoroki's fist before it splits his lip. He goes in to retaliate and gets a palm to the nose for his trouble. Izuku licks his lip and tastes blood.

And yet…

Landing hits isn't as hard as it should be, considering that he's been training for weeks and Todoroki's been at this since his quirk first manifested. But in the back of Izuku's mind, what little of his brain isn't clouded with pain and adrenaline makes the connection. Todoroki focuses on his ice, and his ice works best at a distance. This means he might not have as much practice with close-range fighting, and half of his body is a glaring target that Izuku is taking advantage of for all he's worth.

If he keeps this up, if his stamina holds out and he doesn't make a stupid mistake, then…

Maybe he can win, like this.

Maybe he can win, just by aiming for the one place where Todoroki's weak.

The thought jars him, and Todoroki sees his hesitation and lashes out with his right hand. Izuku sees the ice crystals forming on his classmate's bare forearm, ducks, and lunges forward with a yell. He hits Todoroki's ribs with his elbow, as hard as he can. On the left side.

The blow forces a choked cry from Todoroki's mouth, and suddenly the bad taste in Izuku's mouth has nothing to do with the blood from his busted lip.

He tells himself that it's strategy. He reminds himself of what Ms. Shimura said about fighting smart. He reminds himself that Todoroki is the strongest person in class, and that he can't possibly win a fight against him without using every advantage he can scrape together.

But it doesn't stop it from feeling gross. It doesn't change the fact that he's latching on to his classmate's fears and insecurities—on something that's caused Todoroki so much pain—and digging his nails into it for the sake of winning.

It doesn't stop thoughts like what if this is the only way he can be strong? By taking advantage of other people's pain?

He doesn't feel like someone who's holding his own in a fight.

He feels an awful lot like Bakugou, actually.

The thought doesn't make him falter. It has the opposite effect—his frustration wells up until it's indistinguishable from rage, and he slams into Todoroki's ribs with his elbow again. This time when Todoroki gets knocked back, he falls to one knee.

"Are you kidding me right now?!" Izuku's voice cracks on the way out. He wonders what he must look like, yelling his head off with blood running from his nose and mouth.

Todoroki blinks up at him, shock registering in his eyes.

"You're supposed to be the strongest, aren't you?" Izuku's voice is ragged as he fights for breath. "After everything I had to go through just to get into this stupid school, I can take the strongest kid in my class without even using my damn quirk?"

He feels a breath of cold before he sees ice form, and he lunges again and closes the distance, right before slamming his foot into Todoroki's face. At the last moment he tries to soften it—and maybe that was stupid, maybe he could have won the fight by knocking him out and dragging him out of bounds by the collar, but he's too upset to care. It still connects, and the blast of ice goes wide. Some of it crystallizes on Izuku's left shoulder, but it's barely a glancing hit, and Izuku breaks it off by slamming his shoulder into his Todoroki's chest anyway.

"You can use your whole quirk!" Izuku yells. "You could've taken me down in seconds if you just used your whole—"

Todoroki's eyes flash. "I will not—" he snarls, and Izuku retches when Todoroki's knee crashes into his stomach. "You heard me, Midoriya!" Izuku's ears ring as he tries not to bring up what little there is in his stomach. "I told you—I'm going to climb over you with my right side only."

"Great job so far," Izuku chokes out.

"I don't need—" Another blow to the ribs. "—that bastard's power!" Izuku ducks a right hook and aims a punch at Todoroki's stomach, but his classmate braces himself for it. "I'm going to climb to the top without it!"

Izuku's crouched low at this point, and when he thrusts himself upward, his forehead meets Todoroki's chin. It hurts, but judging by the choking sound Todoroki's making, he made his classmate bite his tongue. "Without his power?" he snaps. His temper makes him stupid. It makes him cruel. "You're kidding me, right? It's a little late to be saying that, don't you think?"

Todoroki's bared teeth look bloody. "I will not—"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Izuku yells, as Todoroki turns to head to spit out bloody saliva. "Remind me—which one of us got in on whose recommendation again?"

It's cruel. The words taste filthy as he says them, but he spits them out anyway, and retribution is immediate.

He takes the punch to his left eye, but it's different this time. It doesn't just hurt; it stings and burns, and he staggers back with a cry of pain. His neck hurts from the whiplash, but that's not the most pressing issue. The most pressing issue is that his hand is coming away stained with red. He opens his eye, and blood stings when it runs in. He closes it. He'll have to make do without depth perception.

His vision is narrow when he looks at Todoroki and finds his classmate staring at him, wide eyed, with his right fist encased in blood-smeared ice. They recover at the same time, and Izuku notices in the back of his mind that there's an awful lot of space between them.

There's no time for plans as the wave of ice comes at him, so Izuku doesn't think. He just moves, and his right arm shatters when he calls on One For All to block.

The ice explodes with a thunderous crack, and it's just about loud enough to drown out Izuku's yell of pain. It's not just the impact that hurts; there's kickback from the punch, and when all is said and done, his arm hangs limp and useless at his side.

Dimly, he hears Present Mic and Aizawa's voices through the speakers, but he's past paying attention and he is not finished.

"Can you understand why that pisses me off so much?" His voice cracks as he gets in Todoroki's face again. It's hard to deal damage when he only has one working arm, and that one arm has a broken finger. But this can't end now. He's come too far.

He wants to win. But even if he doesn't, he'd like to feel like he did something.

"It took everything I had!" Todoroki flinches away from a punch, and he uses the distraction to kick out at his leading foot. "Everything! Just to get into this school!" He sucks in a breath. "Do you have any idea how annoying it is to see you literally half-assing it?!" Blood from his nose and lip runs into his mouth again, and he spits it out to the side. "What, do you think we're all so weak that you can come out on top without giving it your all?!"

"Well I am beating you," Todoroki says through clenched teeth. "Do you really think you can win with that arm?"

"Yeah, congratulations." Izuku's voice drips with sarcasm. "Sure, you can beat me, when I have one working arm and one working eye. Good for you, Todoroki! If you use half your power, you can beat half a person!" He thinks of Uraraka, whose best still lost against Bakugou, and Ojiro who bowed out because he hadn't been given the chance to try for his own victory. "God, you're so annoying! Everyone here is giving their all!" He thinks of Shinsou, whose quirk is perfect for taking out villains but missed his chance because it's useless for taking out training robots. "Kids who aren't even in Heroics are giving it their all!"

"I can't—"

"Quit playing around!" Izuku yells. "Do you really think you can beat B-Bakugou like this? Do you really think you can half-ass being a hero? Saving actual people?"

Todoroki kicks him back, until he has just barely enough room to throw more ice. "I can't!" Even when Izuku sacrifices another finger on his left hand to take out the frozen wave, Todoroki's voice still pitches above the blast.

"What do you mean you can't—"

"Do you even know what it's like?!" Todoroki cuts him off. Another wave of ice, and Izuku repeats the maneuver he'd pulled at the start of the match. The only fingers he has left are his thumb and index finger, but it takes him in close again. He catches himself with his back to Todoroki, and he feels the cold reaching for him. On pure instinct, his elbow snaps back. He whips around at the waist, putting the full force of his body behind the blow, and he's rewarded when it makes contact, and he feels something give beneath it. Spinning around the rest of the way, he's met with the sight of Todoroki with blood fountaining from his newly broken nose. Tears glisten in his classmate's eyes, and he's not sure if they're a pain reflex from getting hit in the face, or his classmate is just that upset.

"What what's like?"

"Did you see me, when you first looked at me?" Todoroki hisses, as blood runs freely from his nose. "Or did you just see Endeavor's son?"

Izuku stares at him, still half blind. "W-what?"

"It doesn't matter what I do," Todoroki grits out. "That's all they ever see. If I use my fire, that's all anyone will see! They won't see me—they'll just see the man who made my mom suffer, and threw her away when she broke." His breath hisses through his teeth. "I'm not going to give them any reason to see that bastard in me."

And for a split second, Izuku gapes at him through one open eye.

Oh.

And the answer is—yes. Yes, he does know what that's like. How many hours has he spent suffering over stupid fraud psychics?

How much time has he spent agonizing over the knowledge that a fraud psychic is all anyone will see if he ever reveals his original quirk?

Oh.

He sees ice forming at Todoroki's right arm when he says, "Bullshit."

It's a miracle that Todoroki hears him. "What."

"I said that's bullshit and you know it." His teeth clench. His voice shakes. "You're crippling yourself for spite and it's stupid and insulting. All you're doing is wasting something that—that some people would give anything to have."

"Didn't you hear me?" Todoroki sways on his feet. He looks almost as exhausted as Izuku feels. "All they'll see is—"

"Then show them they're wrong!" Izuku yells. "At least you can. If they don't see you then make them see you!"

"But—"

What was it that Mom had said, about his quirk? "But nothing," Izuku grits out. "Now stop messing with me already so we can finish this!"

"My father—"

"I'm not fighting your fucking father right now!"

His voice cracks and scrapes raw in his throat, and for a moment Todoroki stares at him. He would be wide-eyed if one of them weren't swelling shut.

Izuku's temper is frayed thin. " And neither are you! He's not standing in this ring right now, we are!" Now both eyes sting, not with blood but tears, and his mother's words finally come to him. "Your quirk is your own, and no one else's. So hurry up and use it already."

He catches sight of Todoroki's wide eyes one last time, before his classmate bursts into flame.

Well, he thinks, as the blast kicks up a wind that blows his hair back. The match was fun while it lasted.

"You're damn crazy, you know that?" comes Todoroki's voice out of the mess of power before him—fire on one side, ice on the other. "You might've won that. But no, you just had to run your mouth. And go out of your way to—" He sees his classmate at the heart of the storm, staring at him with eyes blazing. "Why?"

Izuku can't tell if Todoroki can even hear him. "You looked like you needed help."

"You can't win this," Todoroki tells him.

"Probably not," Izuku says, shrugging his one good shoulder. "But we can at least make it look cool, right?"

This time, when he bares his teeth in a grin, Todoroki smiles back.

The world goes white for a while.

When it comes back, Izuku is flat on his back, outside of the ring, with Rei's hair tickling his nose as she leans over his face. Everything hurts, and defeat has never tasted so much like victory.