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Chapter 55: The Voice of Silence
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 14:23:04 +0000 UTCWhile the girls relived the battle, Izuku sat with Kirishima and Sero, though his mind was elsewhere. His notebook lay open on the table, filled with diagrams and potential matchups for the tournament. He was already in full coach mode.
It was then that Mineta and Kaminari approached the girls' table, their faces a mask of feigned seriousness and urgency.
"Ladies, emergency!" Kaminari said, trying to sound official. "We have a message from Aizawa-sensei!"
"Yeah!" Mineta added, nodding vigorously. "He said that apparently, there have been complaints from other schools about a lack of team spirit and that, as the top class, we have to set an example. He's organized a cheerleader battle to boost morale before the final round!"
"He said he already left the uniforms for you in the locker room and that it's mandatory!" Kaminari concluded.
Jiro eyed them suspiciously. "Aizawa-sensei? Organizing a cheerleader battle? Sounds faker than a three-dollar bill."
"It's true! We swear!" Mineta insisted. "He said if you don't do it, he'll lower your grade for professionalism!"
The mention of grades was enough to sow doubt. With a collective sigh and much complaining, the girls got up and headed to the locker rooms.
"This has to be a joke," Izuku muttered, watching the scene in disbelief.
"Nah, Aizawa-sensei is weird. It could be true," Kirishima said with a shrug.
A few minutes later, the girls of Class 1-A made their entrance into the main stadium area. And the brain of Izuku Midoriya—the strategist, the analyst, the pillar of his team—suffered a catastrophic short-circuit.
They were wearing cheerleader outfits. Orange and black, with "UA" emblazoned on the chest. Short, pleated skirts, form-fitting tops, pom-poms in their hands.
Jiro looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. Ochako was red as a tomato, uselessly trying to pull her skirt down. Toru, surprisingly, was having the time of her life, jumping and shaking her pom-poms with infectious energy. And Momo… Momo Yaoyorozu looked like a goddess sculpted by angels, her long legs and hourglass figure accentuated by a uniform that seemed designed to stop hearts.
Izuku's mouth fell slightly agape. The stream of thoughts in his head went from "matchup analysis" to a cacophony of static and a single, repeated word: Wow.
Legs, his primitive brain thought. Momo has super-long legs. And Ochako… that skirt… she looks so… round and perfect. And Toru with that energy… A vivid and unsolicited image of their training sessions on the beach flooded his mind, but with a change of wardrobe. Him, giving them instructions while they did stretches in those outfits…
Suddenly, the idea of flexibility training sounded like the best plan ever conceived.
"Dude, close your mouth or you're gonna drool on your notebook," Kirishima said, nudging him with an elbow.
Izuku snapped out of his trance, blushing violently. He realized that Kaminari and Mineta were roaring with laughter, pointing at the girls. And then, a protective fury replaced the hormonal stupor. He stood up.
"Girls!" he shouted, his voice a little higher than usual. They turned to him. "You look… you look amazing! Really! That color looks great on all of you!"
His compliment, so genuine and so clumsy, seemed to cheer them up a bit. But it was Momo's reaction that silenced everyone.
There was no panic on her face. No shame. Only a terrifying, icy calm. She observed Kaminari and Mineta, who were still celebrating their successful prank.
"Yaoyorozu-san, are you okay?!" Ochako asked, mortified. "This is so humiliating!"
"Oh, I'm perfectly fine, Uraraka-san," Momo replied, her voice as smooth as silk. She turned to the two boys and gave them a perfectly composed, chilling smile. "Kaminari-san, Mineta-san. Your stratagem to manipulate us using a teacher's authority and the threat of a bad grade was, logically, flawless in its execution. As vice representative, I must admire the efficiency."
Kaminari and Mineta puffed up with pride for a second.
"See? We're geniuses!"
Momo's smile turned glacial. As she spoke, she created a small, complex platinum stopwatch in the palm of her hand, an object of incalculable precision and value.
"However," she continued, her tone unchanging, "as your classmate whom you have just publicly humiliated, I am informing you that for the past thirty seconds, I have calculated thirty-seven different, non-lethal, and entirely school-regulation-compliant ways to make your academic life a logistical hell using my Quirk."
She paused, examining the stopwatch.
"For example, the first will consist of synthesizing a highly attractive insect pheromone, undetectable to the human nose, and applying it to your uniforms each morning. The second, Kaminari-san, will be to replace your hair gel with an adhesive polymer of my own creation that requires an industrial solvent to be removed. The third, Mineta-san, will involve altering the lipid composition of your lunch to have a… delayed-action laxative effect. And so on."
She looked up, her dark eyes glittering with a cold, vengeful intelligence.
"Enjoy the rest of the festival. I strongly recommend you sleep with one eye open."
The threat—so calm, so logical, so specific, and so terrifying—froze the blood in their veins. Kaminari and Mineta turned pale, imagining a future of insect bites, chemical baldness, and chronic intestinal distress.
Momo Yaoyorozu had grown. And her revenge would be as precise as her creations.
"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! AFTER THAT FUN LITTLE INTERLUDE, IT'S TIME TO REVEAL THE FINAL EVENT!" Midnight announced from the center of the arena. "IT WILL BE A ONE-ON-ONE TOURNAMENT! A BATTLE OF GLORY AND PRIDE!"
Just then, Mashirao Ojiro raised his hand, his face serious. Beside him, a Class 1-B student, Nirengeki Shoda, did the same.
"Excuse me, Midnight-sensei," Ojiro said, his voice clear and firm. "I'm withdrawing from the tournament."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the finalists.
"Me too!" Shoda added.
"What? But why!" Midnight exclaimed.
"I barely remember anything from the cavalry battle until it was over," Ojiro explained, his tail twitching in agitation. "I think it was because of some guy's Quirk. I know this is a huge opportunity, and I know it's foolish to waste it… but my pride won't let me continue! I can't pretend I got here on my own!"
"Me neither! It wouldn't be fair to fight against people who earned their spot!" Shoda concluded.
Midnight looked at them, and her seductive smile softened with genuine respect. "That kind of manly honesty... I like it, kids. Ojiro and Shoda withdraw! Accepted!"
"That means we need to move two students up from the fifth-place team to fill the spots!" Present Mic boomed. "From Team Tetsutetsu, Ibara Shiozaki and Yui Kodai advance to the final round!"
With the bracket of finalists complete, the drawing began. The names appeared on the giant screen, forming the tournament matchups.
Todoroki vs. Sero Hagakure vs. Aoyama Kirishima vs. Tetsutetsu
"A battle of steel-hard men! This is gonna be intense!" Kaminari commented.
Momo vs. Tokoyami
"Dark Shadow…" Momo murmured to herself, her eyes already analyzing. "A living Quirk with an inherent weakness to light. Interesting. I'll need a strategy based on high-intensity photon emission."
Bakugo vs. Ochako
The atmosphere froze. Bakugo glanced at the bracket, a savage grin spreading across his face. "Perfect. I'll crush Round-Face to show everyone who's really in charge here."
Ochako met his gaze, her face a mask of quiet, fierce determination.
And then, the final matchup: Izuku Midoriya vs. Hitoshi Shinso.
As soon as Izuku's name appeared next to Shinso's, Ojiro, who was about to leave the arena, spun around and ran to him, his face filled with desperate urgency.
"Midoriya!" he grabbed him by the shoulders, his voice a tense whisper. "Midoriya, listen to me very carefully!"
"Ojiro-kun, what's—?"
"Whatever happens, do not talk to that guy!" he warned, his eyes filled with a deadly seriousness. "Don't answer anything he says! I don't care what it is, not a single word!"
Izuku looked at him, confused.
"His Quirk is Brainwashing," Ojiro explained, his voice trembling slightly with the memory. "If you respond to him verbally, even with a 'yes' or a 'no,' you become his puppet. You'll do whatever he tells you. That's how he used me in the cavalry battle. He told me all about it afterward, with a smirk on his face. Don't fall into his trap! Please!"
The warning, so direct and so vital, burned itself into Izuku's mind. His first match wouldn't be a test of strength or strategy. It would be a test of will.
Izuku waited in the hallway leading to the arena, mentally replaying Ojiro's warning over and over. The pressure was immense. His opponent had a Quirk that seemed specifically designed to counter people like him—people who analyze, who respond, who interact.
"Young Midoriya."
The deep, familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. All Might was there, his towering presence filling the corridor, his expression serious.
"You look worried. Is it about your opponent?"
"His Quirk…" Izuku began. "If I fall into his trap, I'll have lost without even being able to move a muscle. Everything we've accomplished, all the teamwork, it will be for nothing if I fail in the first match."
"Power isn't everything, my boy," All Might said, and his smile, though more subdued than usual, was still bright. "Sometimes, the greatest show of strength is self-control. The ability to remain silent when every instinct is screaming at you to speak."
He placed a large hand on Izuku's shoulder.
"What you demonstrated in the first two events… that was true heroism. It wasn't the power of one individual. It was leadership. It was strategy. It was the trust you inspired in your teammates to execute plans that seemed impossible. You have become their pillar. You don't need a strength Quirk to be a hero, Young Midoriya. You already are one, in your own unique way. Now go and show everyone that a sharp mind and an iron will can be more dangerous than the strongest fist."
All Might's words didn't give him power, but they gave him something more important: perspective. His confidence didn't come from a borrowed power. It came from his own abilities, from his mind, and from the faith his team had in him.
He nodded, his face now filled with a new, quiet determination. "Thank you, All Might."
"THE FIRST MATCH OF THE FINAL ROUND IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!!" Present Mic roared. "FROM THE HERO COURSE, THE STRATEGIST WHO LED HIS TEAM TO AN IMPOSSIBLE VICTORY, IZUKU MIDORIYA!! VERSUS THE SURPRISE FROM THE GENERAL COURSE, WITH A QUIRK STILL UNKNOWN TO THE PUBLIC, HITOSHI SHINSO!!"
Izuku and Shinso stepped onto the stage. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation. The bell rang.
Shinso smirked, an expression of lazy, arrogant confidence. And he began his assault.
"Don't you feel bad?" he said, his voice echoing in the silence. "The kid with the tail. Ojiro. A good, hardworking guy. He had to give up on his dream, his moment in the spotlight, because of the humiliation you put him through. He told me he doesn't even remember how he made it to the finals. Is that how you treat your fellow hero course students? Using them as stepping stones for your own glory. Some hero you are."
Izuku didn't answer. He settled into a low combat stance, his eyes fixed on his opponent, his face a mask of absolute concentration.
Shinso's smirk faltered slightly. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or do you just have nothing to say for yourself? I guess it's hard to justify your actions. ANSWER ME! Or are you such a coward you can't even defend your own honor?"
Izuku remained stonily silent. He took a deliberate step forward.
Shinso's frustration was now visible. His plan wasn't working. He played his last, most personal card.
"That girl, Uraraka… she's got a thing for you, doesn't she? It's obvious to everyone. What would she think if she saw how pathetic you are right now, unable to say a single word while your friends and your character are being insulted? You don't deserve to be in the hero course! You're taking a spot from someone who would actually fight!"
Izuku still didn't speak. He had reached the center of the ring. The distance was closed.
Shinso, seeing that his primary weapon—his only weapon—was completely useless, panicked. Izuku's self-control was an unbreakable wall. Desperate, he lunged forward, swinging a clumsy, artless punch.
The "fight" was anticlimactic and brutally efficient.
Izuku, using the feline reflexes assimilated from Toga and his own bio-vectorial control to optimize every movement, dodged the punch with insulting ease, tilting his head just a few inches.
He grabbed his opponent's outstretched arm. Using Shinso's own momentum against him, and with a simple, clean judo throw—a perfect hip toss—he lifted him off his feet and hurled him out of the ring.
Shinso landed with a dull thud on the concrete ground, out of bounds.
Izuku had won. Without saying a single word.
"Shinso-kun is out of bounds! The winner is Izuku Midoriya!" Midnight declared.
The crowd was a bit confused by the brief and bizarre match, but they applauded the decisive victory.
As they were leaving through the same tunnel, a voice stopped Izuku.
"Wait."
It was Shinso. He had gotten to his feet, dusting himself off. The mockery was gone from his face, replaced by a grudging respect and genuine curiosity.
"You didn't fall for it. No one… no one has ever resisted my taunts before. They always answer. It's human nature. How did you know?"
Izuku, for the first time, spoke to him. His voice was calm, with no trace of anger.
"Because a friend trusted me enough to warn me. And I trust my friends completely."
He looked Shinso in the eyes. "Your Quirk is amazing. You could be a great hero with it. The kind of hero who can stop a villain without throwing a single punch. I hope to see you in the hero course next year."
Before Shinso could respond, Izuku turned and continued on his way. He glanced up at the Class 1-A stands. Ojiro saw him and gave him a solemn nod, an expression of deep gratitude and respect on his face.
Izuku nodded back. He had won his first match not with power, but with willpower, silence, and the strength of his team. The first piece on the board had fallen. And the true battle for the festival had only just begun.
