The students were bursting with excitement, their energy practically radiating off them.
"Whoa... A tournament, huh? I'm finally going to be on TV instead of just watching it?! Awesome!!" Kirishima shouted with a fist pumped high into the air.
The others followed suit, their faces lit with determination. Nervousness was a rare sight among them. Midnight observed their blazing spirit with a subtle smile.
She reached for a sleek white box and turned to the contestants, her posture relaxed but commanding.
"Alright, it's time to draw lots to decide your opponents."
She paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build.
"Now then... Let's begin by drawing the first name—"
"Excuse me..."
A hand went up, catching my attention. I turned to see one of the Class 1-A students—his large, prominent tail made it easy to identify. Ojiro.
And... what was with that tone? Why raise his hand like that?
"I'd like to withdraw from the festival," he said quietly.
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned to Ojiro in shock and confusion.
"OJIRO?!" Kirishima shouted. "Why?! You've come so far—are you really going to throw all of this away? What's going on?!"
Kaminari added in, clearly upset, but Ojiro remained still. His head bowed, his expression unshaken. It was the kind of face someone wore only after making a firm, final decision.
Taking a deep breath, Ojiro lifted his voice, his words filled with quiet conviction.
"During the Cavalry Battle... in the final moments, I somehow ended up at the top. I didn't even realize it until after it happened. I can't accept that kind of win."
As he spoke, he bit his lip hard. I nodded slowly. I understood. That kind of disappointment... that sense of emptiness after an unearned victory—it hurt more than defeat.
Now he raised his head and looked straight ahead, his voice turning cold and steady.
"Maybe it was because of that guy's Quirk."
Everyone's eyes followed his gaze.
There he stood—a student with messy, dark purple hair. His tired eyes drooped, shadowed by heavy, sleepless lids.
If I remembered right... his name was Shinso.
***
Now that all the matchups had been announced, my eyes finally landed on my own name.
"Wha—?! Oh, come on!! Of all people, why do I have to face Aizawa!?"
I turned toward Iida, who was visibly distressed, clutching his hair in frustration. Our eyes met for a moment—and I couldn't help it. A wide, mischievous grin spread across my face.
"Relax, Iida. I promise I'll hold back," I said with a teasing glint in my eyes.
He averted his gaze briefly, adjusted his glasses, then looked back at me with that serious, formal demeanor of his.
"Aizawa Tsukasa, I hope we can both fight fairly and with good sportsmanship," he declared, extending a hand in a proper, courteous gesture.
I let out a light chuckle and nodded.
"Of course! Let's have a clean match!" I said as I stepped forward to shake his hand.
His grip was firm but measured, and though he kept a polite smile on his face, there was a faint spark of challenge behind it—he wasn't going to go easy on me either.
Meanwhile, my attention drifted toward another pair.
Off to the side, I spotted Midoriya deep in conversation with someone—so serious that their voices were barely audible.
That person... it was the boy Ojiro had pointed out earlier. The one with the tired eyes and unkempt purple hair.
Shinso.
What could they possibly be discussing?