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Chapter 13: The Weight of Victory
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 22:25:02 +0000 UTCThe silence in the monitor room was a physical object: dense, heavy, and laden with the collective disbelief of eighteen hero students and one Symbol of Peace. On the giant screen, the words "THE HERO TEAM WINS!!" flashed in a triumphant red that clashed with the palpable confusion. The students weren't just processing the victory, but the how. The method. The audacity.
All Might cleared his throat, a sound that boomed like thunder in the stillness. His signature smile, which had frozen into a grimace of shock during the "incident," returned to his face, this time genuine and with a hint of mischief.
"WELL, YOUNGSTERS!" his voice roared, breaking the spell. "WHAT AN... INSTRUCTIVE BATTLE! YES, THAT'S THE WORD! INSTRUCTIVE!"
He strode in front of the screens, his enormous hands on his hips.
"Before we move on to the next match, let's analyze what we've just witnessed! Reflection is what fuels great heroes! So, tell me! Opinions? Comments? And the million-dollar question: who, in your young and wise opinion, was the MVP, the Most Valuable Player, of this exercise?"
The silence returned, but this time it was a hesitant one. No one dared to speak. How were they supposed to evaluate that? Were there points for tactical humiliation?
"No one?" All Might inquired, his smile never faltering. "Come on! Debate is the crucible where great ideas are forged!"
His blue eyes landed on Momo Yaoyorozu, who had been unsuccessfully trying to become invisible at the back of the room.
"Young Yaoyorozu!" he exclaimed, pointing a dramatic finger at her. "You possess one of the most analytical minds in this class! Your intellect is as bright as the morning sun! ENLIGHTEN US WITH YOUR WISDOM!"
Momo shot to her feet as if she’d been hit by an electric shock. Her face still held a faint blush, but her posture straightened, adopting the bearing of an analyst. She cleared her throat.
"Yes, All Might-sensei. Thank you. My evaluation is… complex," she began, her voice calm and measured, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just witnessed. "Young Bakugo and Young Iida, the villain team, lost not only because of the opposing team's strategy, but because of their complete and total lack of coordination. Young Bakugo acted on a purely personal vendetta and abandoned the primary objective, which is a capital tactical foul in any scenario. His tunnel vision made him predictable."
She paused, and several students nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words.
"Young Iida, on the other hand, played his role as a stereotypical villain well and protected the objective as instructed. However, he lacked adaptability. He was completely outmaneuvered in the final confrontation, unable to counter a tactic that was, frankly, outside of every procedural manual."
She turned slightly, her gaze glancing at the screen that still showed the hallway where the final confrontation took place.
"The hero team, on the other hand… Their strategy was…" she searched for the right word, "…highly peculiar. And, frankly, it bordered on workplace harassment."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Mineta, from his corner, nodded with almost religious fervor.
"However," Momo continued, her voice firm, "there's no denying its devastating effectiveness. Young Uraraka demonstrated an application of her Quirk that surpassed all previous expectations. It wasn't simple gravity nullification; it was large-scale environmental control, showcasing overwhelming power and precision. And Young Midoriya…" she hesitated again, as if the mere mention of his name caused a logical short-circuit. "His plan, while vulgar in its execution, psychologically dismantled the most dangerous opponent. It was an absurd risk. But, apparently, it was a calculated one."
All Might was grinning from ear to ear. "HAHAHA! EXCELLENT ANALYSIS, YOUNG YAOYOROZU! PRECISE AND TO THE POINT! So, your final conclusion on the MVP?"
Momo took a deep breath. "My conclusion, sensei, is that there cannot be a single MVP in this scenario. It would be a logical error. Young Midoriya was the brain and the strategist; he was the one who won the psychological battle before the real fight even began. But Young Uraraka was the enforcer, the force of nature who demonstrated masterful skill in securing the objective. They are… two sides of the same, strange, victorious coin."
"EXACTLY!!" All Might roared, slamming his fist into his palm with a thunderous clap. "VICTORY, MY YOUNGSTERS, COMES IN MANY FORMS!! SOMETIMES IT'S AN OVERWHELMING PUNCH THAT SHATTERS WALLS! OTHER TIMES, IT'S A BRILLIANTLY ABSURD STRATEGY EXECUTED TO PERFECTION BY A TEAM THAT TRUSTS EACH OTHER BLINDLY! THEREFORE, IN RECOGNITION OF THEIR EXCEPTIONAL SYNERGY, I DECLARE YOUNG MIDORIYA AND YOUNG URARAKA THE JOINT MVPs OF THIS MATCH!"
Meanwhile, in the cold corridors of the training building, Izuku and Ochako walked in a thick, uncomfortable silence. The adrenaline high from the battle was fading, leaving behind the embarrassing and awkward aftermath of their tactic. Izuku hadn't suffered a single scratch, but he felt mentally exhausted. Ochako, for her part, could still feel the residual energy of the "Booster" humming under her skin.
She was the one who broke the silence, not looking at him, her gaze fixed on her own boots as they walked.
"So… the… uh… 'Booster'…"
Izuku, who had been lost in thought, instantly perked up, his science mode taking over. "It worked! It worked even better than I expected! My theory about transferring energy through a contact point with a high concentration of… well, of Quirk fuel… it actually worked! The connection was incredibly stable!"
He stopped, realizing he was rambling. He looked at her and saw the blush still coloring her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his enthusiasm deflating. "Really. I'm sorry if it was… you know… inappropriate. Or weird. Or totally humiliating. It was the only thing I could think of under pressure, and your suit has those reinforced circular contact points right there. Plus, as we already established, you have large breasts, which according to my Booster theory means a larger reserve of…"
He clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had just stuck his foot in it. All the way. Again.
Ochako stopped and turned to face him. Her face was as red as a tomato.
"That was the craziest, weirdest, most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life, Izuku Midoriya," she said, her voice serious.
Izuku flinched, bracing for the reprimand. "I'm sorry…"
"And yes, you're a pervert," she continued.
He shrank even further. "I'm so sorry…"
She stared at him for another second. Then, a genuine, warm smile, full of shared amusement, softened her expression.
"…but a brilliant pervert. We won, Deku-kun. We won thanks to you and your crazy science. Thank you."
Izuku looked up, surprised. Relief washed over him, warm and overwhelming. He returned her smile, a wide, genuine grin.
"No. We won. Thanks to us."
They resumed walking, the silence now comfortable, the strange intimacy of their plan having bonded them more than ever.
When Izuku and Ochako reached the monitor room, they were met with a mixture of hesitant applause, looks of astonishment, and Mineta's muffled sobbing. All Might clapped them on the back so hard he nearly sent them to the floor.
"EXCELLENT WORK, YOUNG HEROES! A DEMONSTRATION OF STRATEGY AND TRUST WORTHY OF STUDY!"
Just then, he announced the next match: Team B (Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji) versus Team I (Mashirao Ojiro and Toru Hagakure).
What happened next erased all prior conversation and analysis. The battle, if you could even call it that, was a demonstration of power so absolute it left everyone breathless.
Todoroki entered the building. And froze it.
From floor to ceiling, a massive, crystalline wave of ice spread through the entire building in seconds, trapping his opponents and securing the weapon without him taking another step. It was over.
The contrast was brutal. The class had just praised a hard-fought victory based on strategy, psychology, and a bizarre tactic. Now, they witnessed a victory achieved through raw, individual, and overwhelming power.
"Dude…" Kaminari whispered, his eyes wide as plates. "That… it's just over. It just… ended. There was no fight."
"No strategy… no tricks… no weird groping…" Kirishima said, his voice filled with fearful awe. "Just… pure power. That's a completely different level. That's scary."
Izuku's victorious smile had vanished. He stood motionless, staring at the screen with an expression of deep, all-consuming concentration. He pulled out his notebook, his hands moving on instinct, and began to write frantically.
Ice Quirk. Large-scale control. Instantaneous freezing without needing direct contact. Didn't need his partner. Didn't need a complex plan. Didn't need psychology. He just… did it. The gap… the gap in raw power is immense. Would my strategy… would it even work against something like that? How do you analyze someone who can end the fight before it starts?
In a corner of the room, Bakugo, who had returned almost unnoticed, watched the same screen. He wasn't looking at Izuku. He wasn't looking at anyone. He was looking at the frozen building, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His humiliation at Deku's hands was an open wound, and what he had just seen was salt poured right into it. He hadn't just been out-strategized. He had just seen someone with a power that dwarfed his own, that made him look like a kid playing with firecrackers.
At the end of the day, the atmosphere in the classroom was one of euphoria and exhaustion. Many came up to congratulate Izuku and Ochako, commenting on the "brilliant" and "unexpected" strategy. Izuku accepted it with an awkward smile, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Bakugo was packing his things and leaving without a word, his body rigid with tension.
A pang of old worry shot through Izuku. Despite everything, a part of him still cared about his former friend. He followed him out.
He found him outside, near the main gate of U.A., his back to the building.
"Kacchan…" Izuku said softly.
Bakugo turned slowly. And what Izuku saw froze him to the core. There was no rage in his face. No hatred. Just a chilling, desolate emptiness.
"You won," Bakugo said, his voice flat, emotionless.
"It was a team effort, I just—"
"No," he interrupted, his voice trembling slightly. "You won. You didn't just beat me. You played me. You humiliated me in front of everyone. You and that round-faced girl… you made me look like a complete idiot. A clown with explosions."
"No, Kacchan, I never wanted that! I just wanted to win!"
"And then…" Bakugo's gaze drifted, as if remembering the image of the frozen building. "…then there's that half-and-half bastard. Wins in a second. Without breaking a sweat. Without having to resort to… cheap tricks and groping. Just power. Pure, undeniable power."
He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw trembled. And to Izuku's absolute shock, tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, tracing clean paths down his soot-stained face.
"I understood everything today," he said, his voice broken. "What that ponytail girl said in the monitor room. What you did. What he did. Turns out I'm nothing! I'm barely at the starting line and everyone's already blown past me! Everyone!"
He furiously wiped the tears away with his sleeve. "So listen up, Deku. I lost today. But it won't happen again." He looked at him, and in his red, wet eyes, a new and terrifying determination burned. "I won't lose to you again. Not to the ice bastard. Not to anyone. I'm going to become Number One. And I'll do it by surpassing all of you. Not with tricks. With power."
Bakugo turned and strode away, leaving a speechless Izuku behind. Just then, All Might appeared, intending to speak, but Bakugo ignored him completely and continued on his way, disappearing into the crowd of students. Katsuki Bakugo's shattered pride was rebuilding itself, but on a foundation of pure, cold ambition.
Far away, in a dark and dingy bar, the only light came from a television screen mounted on the wall. It was showing a news report about All Might's new role as a teacher at U.A.
A young man, covered in what looked like dismembered mannequin hands clinging to his body, scratched viciously at his neck, leaving red marks on his pale skin.
"A teacher?" he hissed, his voice a dry scratch. "The 'Symbol of Peace'... reduced to teaching a bunch of brats. How fragile."
He turned to the shadowy figure made of purple mist standing behind the bar.
"Master… what do you think would happen if the pillar holding up this world of fake heroes… just crumbled?"
A manic grin spread across his chapped face, reflected in the glow of the screen.
"It would be… so much fun."
