Two weeks. We had two damn weeks to grind our asses off before the Sports Festival kicked off.
With my Quirk, turning random shit into gold wasn't a big deal - easy money, no sweat. That little trick netted me enough cash to sign up for some boxing and martial arts gyms, places where I could sharpen my close-combat game while juggling schoolwork, cultural studies, and the brutal training U.A. was already throwing at us.
I even shelled out extra for a stash of high-protein grub - fuel for the kind of punishing physical and skill-based regimen I was about to put myself through. And yeah, I dragged Toga into it too, signed her up for the same advanced courses so she could pick up that slick, unpredictable fighting style from the original timeline. I figured it'd give us a serious edge in the shitstorms waiting down the road.
Toga was all in for it, her eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas when I pitched the idea. She looked ready to tackle whatever the personal trainers and coaches threw at her, no matter how brutal. Her enthusiasm was contagious, even if I didn't let it show - kept my game face on, focused on the grind ahead.
Meanwhile, I wasn't slacking on my Quirk either. Sure, shifting materials into other shit was versatile as hell, but it only hit peak potential if my raw physical strength could back it up. I started experimenting, fine-tuning the control, concentrating the transformation on just one body part, like hardening my arm or leg into dense metal instead of going full-body. I worked on packing more punch into smaller areas, boosting the density, and drilled my reflexes to trigger it on instinct for defense.
Speed was key too. I had to cut down the activation time so I could snap it on in a heartbeat when danger hit. No room for hesitation in a real fight.
The days bled together fast, one grueling training session after another. Toga threw herself into it with a ferocity that caught me off guard - she soaked up the combat techniques like she'd been born for it, her natural talent shining through. She moved like a shadow, quick and fluid, never showing a hint of fatigue even after hours of sparring. Hell, in some sparring matches, she straight-up outclassed me, her agility and cunning leaving me scrambling to keep up.
If she kept this up, her fighting skills would blow past anything I'd seen in the original timeline, especially with me feeding her pointers and backing her up.
Two weeks wasn't long, but it was enough to see real gains. My body was getting harder, leaner—muscles tightening up, reflexes sharpening to a razor's edge. Toga, though? She was turning into something downright dangerous. Her technique was picking up at a scary pace, and I couldn't help but think: put her in the right spot, hell, even enroll her at U.A., and she'd be a hero so strong and unpredictable it'd make heads spin. A twisted part of me smirked at the irony of that.
And guess what? Every night after training, who's the one left wrecked? Yeah, me. Who the hell else?
For two weeks straight, training with her meant not a single day went by without some "extra exercise." It's no surprise, really. Women her age, especially when they're pushing their bodies hard, get that urge cranked up to eleven. Add to that the fact she's already tasted the "forbidden fruit" with me more than once (and every damn time in some weird, public place that'd make adult films blush without the camera), so getting away with just one round a day was a miracle. Some nights, the time we spent going at it was double the training session itself. You get the picture.
I'm not gonna lie, I kinda get where she's coming from. Part of it's because the fastest, safest way to keep my fiery, gorgeous, slightly unhinged yandere girlfriend by my side is through sex. Part of it's also because, yeah, I can be a real bastard sometimes, messing with her head, convincing her this is somehow better than going full villain.
Do I feel guilty? A lot. But if this is what it takes to keep her close—and to avoid a body count that'd make a disaster movie look tame—then it's worth it.
And no, I'm not dumb enough to skip protection. No shady pills for either of us, none of that crap, only condoms. I'm a jerk, but not that kind of stupid.
On the last day, I had that stack of files and photos I'd snagged from Aldera ready to roll. Was I gonna drop it all clean and proper? Fuck no, i had to play it sly, let it simmer until the right moment hit. When the festival wrapped, everyone would see just how fucked-up the truth really was.
Ruin someone's future? Nah, this wasn't destruction, this was me forging it, hammering it into something new.
…
Then the day came—the moment all my sweat and scheming got weighed on the scales.
The U.A. Sports Festival kicked off with all the hopes, ambitions, and cutthroat competition of hundreds of the school's best packed into one massive showdown. The stadium was a goddamn circus—roaring crowds, bright banners flapping in the wind, floodlights cutting through the sky like it was some blockbuster premiere. I stood in the staging area, eyeballing the mix of familiar faces and potential threats I'd be facing off against.
Midoriya, Katsuki, Todoroki—all of 'em radiating this fierce determination to claw their way to the top of the rankings by the end of this shitshow.
Just like the original timeline, a few days before the festival, droves of students from other classes had swarmed in—gawking at us 1-A hero course kids, sizing us up to see if we were the real deal or just paper tigers.
Last time, Bakugo had stepped up to deal with 'em, all fire and bravado. This time, I took the lead, tried playing it nice at first, asking 'em politely to clear the damn path so we could move. Didn't work. They barely gave me a glance, brushing me off with this smug indifference. Guess my scrawny, bookish vibe - muscles hidden under the uniform - didn't scream "threat."
Fine. I didn't waste more words, just flashed a creepy-ass grin, pulled a paper crane from my pocket, and turned it to dust right in front of 'em. A little warning: fuck with me, and you'll end up like this.
Worked like a charm. They scattered fast, eyes wide with this mix of fear and respect, leaving the path clear. Even Bakugo and a few 1-A kids caught the show—their faces twitched with unease at my shitty grin and the glint of menace in my eyes. That look stuck with 'em, trailing me all the way to the opening ceremony. Wasn't exactly comfy, but I'd take it over being ignored.
Todoroki Shoto, true to the original script, was still sniffing around the Izuku-All Might connection, tossing out his icy declaration that he'd crush Izuku no matter what. But this time, he threw me a glance too - didn't say shit, just stared with this faint edge of hostility I couldn't quite place. Guess my little stunt had put me on his radar too.
The opening ceremony hit with all the fanfare: crowds screaming, Present Mic's voice booming over the speakers, and Midnight strutting out as the ref.
Look, if I'm being real, Midnight's getup was straight out of some JAV flick—skin-tight bodysuit, black leather belts, thigh straps, and a million little details I couldn't even name. She waved that tasseled whip around like it was a damn welcome flag. I still didn't get why she went with "R-Rated Hero: Midnight" as her name - wasn't this manga and anime series supposed to be for teens? Whatever. Too much thinking just weighed me down.
The ceremony rolled on, and instead of Bakugo taking the stage, Izuku stepped up to rep all the students - thanks to my meddling, he'd nabbed the top entrance exam score. He fumbled through his speech, awkward as hell, looking like a deer in headlights. But unlike the original timeline where it pissed people off, this time they just shrugged him off - didn't see him as a real threat. Perfect.
Midnight didn't waste a beat, diving right into the first event: the Obstacle Race. That damn course had made plenty of students cry their eyes out in past years - its difficulty was fucking unreal.
With her sharp whistle, all eleven classes bolted into position. The tension was thick, every competitor radiating this do-or-die vibe. Me? I didn't need to go all out, just enough to get by without drawing too much heat. Standing out too hard was pointless and could paint a target on my back later.
Up in the stands, I spotted Toga - morphed into me with her Quirk - cheering her ass off. She waved like a maniac, flashing that familiar grin that somehow cut through the chaos. Weirdly steadying, even if I wouldn't admit it.
The race kicked off with a piercing whistle, and everyone surged forward like their lives depended on it. The starting gate was a bottleneck - tiny as fuck - and the shoving was brutal. No one gave a damn about manners; they just wanted out first. Selfish prick that I am, I clocked Todoroki darting ahead, icing the ground with his Half-Cold Quirk. Didn't hesitate, i grabbed a random kid's shoulder, vaulted up, and parkoured over heads to bust out of that tunnel fast. Wasn't easy, but I stuck the landing, skidding clear. Plenty of others weren't so lucky, their feet frozen solid to the ground or eating dirt from the slick ice.
Shit was about to get real messy now.
First up: a swarm of robots, the same kind U.A. used for the entrance exam, only this time there were more - way more. Made me wonder if this school's budget had a fucking ceiling or something. Most kids froze, gaping in shock or panic, but 1-A wasn't fazed. Shoto took point, icing up the giant bots with ease, even tipping their balance so they crashed down in front of the pack - smart as hell.
Damn impressive, I'd give him that. The technique, the execution, it was slick, almost effortless. This was gonna be fun.
Then I spotted Mineta, flailing like an idiot amid the robot chaos, and a devilish idea hit me...
No hesitation, i ran over, hoisted him up by the collar, ripped a few of his sticky balls off his head, and turned 'em into solid nitroglycerin, tossed 'em with pinpoint aim, blasting the robots down without flattening anyone behind me. Looked like a team player, right? Enough to shift how the other classes saw me - less reckless asshole, more calculated guy who didn't screw over the pack. Set the stage for my next move.
Mineta bitched at first, pissed I'd used him like a tool, but his tune changed fast when he realized the deal: a free ride through this round and some "rizz" tips for the girls in class. Opportunist little shit and he was all in.
Glanced at Izuku - right on track. He'd snagged a chunk of robot metal, hauling it along like I'd figured. He'd use it to blast past everyone and snag first. This was gonna be a riot.
Next up: the Pitfall. No way my Quirk could bridge that gap, only pure endurance was the play. Gripped the ropes, swung across hand-over-hand, dragging Mineta's whining ass with me. His shrieks about heights were grating as fuck, and it wasn't exactly a breeze hauling extra weight. Meanwhile, kids like Ida breezed through - his balance was unreal, no hesitation. Todoroki too, gliding over with ice like it was nothing.
Izuku stuck close, that robot scrap still tucked under his arm. He'd cash it in soon, I could feel it.
Final stretch: the Minefield. A literal field of explosives one step wrong, and it'd chain-react like dominos. For Todoroki up front, it was a nightmare, as every move had to be perfect. For me? Easy as hell with my Quirk. I can turn my body to tungsten, shrugged off the blasts, but Mineta was the hitch. Couldn't let him get fried - not when I needed him later. Plus, looking too ruthless wouldn't fly.
"Stick with Izuku if you wanna finish in one piece, at least second," I said, shooting him a loaded look before dropping him and charging into the field.
Tungsten skin held up fine - bombs popped off, but I kept moving, weaving through to leave enough mines for Izuku. Had to let him take first like the original, keep the timeline on track for now. The explosions roared, shaking the ground, and I used the shockwaves to boost my speed, feet pounding like a war drum. Felt every eye on me, but I didn't push too hard, just kept it steady.
Right on cue, Izuku made his move. A massive blast rocked the field—he'd dug up a pile of mines, stacked 'em, and rode the shockwave like a damn rocket, soaring over everyone. The crowd went nuts, jaws dropping at the sheer balls of it. Todoroki and Bakugo tried to counter, but Izuku flipped mid-air, slammed his metal chunk into another mine, and shot past 'em with everything he had.
The cheers exploded as he hit the finish line first. Mineta clung to his back, grinning like a lunatic at snagging second, thanks to my tip. Todoroki and Bakugo rolled in third and fourth, pissed as hell, while I strolled across at thirteenth, low-key, not too flashy, just enough to coast into the next round chill as fuck.
Saw Toga up there, screaming her head off, and something weird hit me that hard to pin down. Happiness, maybe? Shit, who knows.
Whatever. I'd figure it out later.