(Kenjiro's POV – First Person)
Lunch was over, and the whole stadium buzzed like a live wire.
A constant hum of energy pulsed under my skin. The roar of the crowd, the vibrating air, the tension of a thousand eyes waiting to see what came next—it was addicting.
The Sports Festival wasn't just some school tradition.
It was the moment every aspiring hero showed the world who the hell they were.
And I planned to make damn sure no one forgot me.
Then—Present Mic's voice exploded over the loudspeakers like a shot of espresso straight to the brain.
"ALRIGHT, LISTENERS! BEFORE WE DIVE INTO THE FINALS, HOW 'BOUT SOME SIDE GAMES TO WARM UP?!"
I leaned against the stadium railing, eyes narrowed, while the field below exploded into chaos.
A cheerleading squad pranced onto the field—pom-poms flashing, skirts swishing.
Except they weren't professionals.
They were Class 1-A girls.
Momo was in front, cheeks burning, expression frozen somewhere between horror and resignation. Her voice carried just enough for those nearby to hear.
"I—I was tricked—"
Behind her, Denki and Mineta fist-bumped like they'd just discovered the meaning of life.
"Totally worth it," Denki whispered.
"Never forgetting this moment," Mineta whispered back.
I actually laughed. Loud enough that Mina glanced back at me with a groan.
"You're enjoying this way too much," she muttered.
"Come on," I said. "If I have to fight you in a few hours, I'm legally obligated to enjoy the last time you look ridiculous before I flatten you."
She pointed a pom-pom at me. "You're evil."
I winked. "Only on Thursdays."
Midnight strutted onto the stage with a grin that practically glowed with villain energy. Whip in hand, hips swaying, she addressed the crowd like a ringmaster preparing for bloodsport.
"Now, now, my little heroes~! It's time to decide your fates!"
A giant screen flickered to life behind her. A glowing tournament bracket spread across it in crimson lines. Names began appearing—our names.
One-on-one matches.
No teams. No clones. No distractions.
My chest tightened. Good. Finally.
I cracked my knuckles, eyes glued to the board.
Kirishima leaned over to Mina, whispering something about how the finals changed every year, but it always came down to one thing: skill. Grit. Individual resolve.
I didn't need a lecture. I already knew what this was.
This wasn't about scoring points.
This was about dominance.
Then it happened.
"I withdraw."
Silence spread across the stadium like a thick fog.
Ojiro stepped forward, his face calm, tail rigid behind him.
"I don't remember how I got into the finals. Shinso used me. I won't fight without knowing I earned it."
There was no bitterness in his voice. Just quiet conviction. A storm already passed.
Midnight gave him a long look. Then nodded.
"Very well."
The respect in her tone was obvious—even if she didn't say it outright.
A beat later, Shoda from Class 1-B raised his hand.
"I don't deserve to be here either."
Another slot emptied.
Midnight raised her whip and twirled it once before smirking.
"Then we'll replace them with members of Team Kendo!"
Kendo folded her arms, eyes focused. "Give it to Team Tetsutetsu. They earned it."
No hesitation.
Damn. That girl had more spine than half the pro circuit.
The bracket flickered again. Names shifted. Openings filled.
And then—I saw it.
The matchups.
The opening round.
Izuku Midoriya vs. Hitoshi Shinso
Shoto Todoroki vs. Hanta Sero
Ibara Shiozaki vs. Denki Kaminari
Tenya Iida vs. Mei Hatsume
Mina Ashido vs. Sasaki Kenjiro
Fumikage Tokoyami vs. Momo Yaoyorozu
Eijiro Kirishima vs. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu
Katsuki Bakugo vs. Ochaco Uraraka
And there it was.
Mina.
The moment her name appeared next to mine, her entire face dropped.
"Oh no. Oh no."
I grinned.
"Ashido Mina, we meet again."
Kirishima patted her shoulder like he was delivering last rites. "RIP, Mina."
"You shut your spiky face, Red Riot."
"Hey, I'm just saying—Kenjiro doesn't exactly go easy."
She turned to me, arms crossed. "You're not gonna hold back, are you?"
I shrugged. "Would you want me to?"
She hesitated. "...No."
"Then that's your answer."
I could see the gears turning behind her eyes. Mina wasn't weak. Far from it. Her acid quirk had range and unpredictability. But she was flashy, impulsive, and—let's face it—not built to counter someone like me.
Not when I could outlast her with durability alone.
Still, I didn't plan on coasting.
She'd get every ounce of pressure I could bring.
Because this wasn't just a match.
This was a statement.
This was the moment every camera turned to focus.
The moment future heroes got made—or got flattened.
The Sports Festival wasn't just about who won.
It was about who made the world watch.
Bakugo scanned the bracket and immediately scowled.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered. "I get the gravity chick?"
Uraraka straightened up. "Don't underestimate me, Bakugo."
He scoffed. "I'll try not to fall asleep."
Mina leaned into me. "He's so rude."
"He's gonna be a great cautionary tale when I take first," I said.
"You mean if."
"I mean when."
Tokoyami and Momo were already talking strategies. Momo pulled out a notebook while Tokoyami stood with his arms folded, muttering to Dark Shadow.
Midoriya?
Kid looked like he was gonna hurl.
Probably because he was up against Shinso—mind control boy.
I'd heard the whispers. Rumors flying around about how he'd manipulated Ojiro like a puppet in the cavalry battle.
Midoriya better keep his mouth shut.
Literally.
My eyes drifted back to the bracket.
This was it.
The real start.
I felt my heartbeat slow—not from nerves, but clarity.
I wasn't here to make friends.
I was here to carve my name into this tournament. Into the minds of every viewer, every scout, every pro who thought some no-name mochi user didn't belong on their radar.
Let them watch.
Let them all watch.
Because by the time I was done?
They wouldn't just remember me.
They'd fear me.