A Hero's Dirty Work (Villain Deku / Vigilante Deku au)

The Tournament - Pt. 1

"Congratulations to the four teams that made it!" Midnight said, cracking her whip a couple of times to get everyone's attention. "For those who didn't, don't worry! You'll still have a chance to show us your stuff in the recreational games. After that, we'll be on to the tournament!"

Ojiro raised his hand, and Midnight pointed at him as permission to speak. "Um, I... don't think I deserve to be in the tournament," he said, sounding uncomfortable. "I can't remember what happened during the cavalry battle, and I'd like to step down. My pride won't allow me to take something I didn't earn."

"Me, too," another student said, this one a chubby blue-haired student from class 1-B. "I'd rather my position go to someone who earned it."

"Hmm," Midnight said, tilting her head to one side. "How naive. I love it! Alright, two students from the fifth-place team will move up in your place! Monoma and Kuroiro, you two will take their place, fighting for the top in the tournament."

Michi shrugged; not really his problem, but they were being pretty stupid. When Aizawa's tired voice echoed from the speakers, he wasn't very surprised. "In the real world, you don't get to pass up on opportunities for something as irrational as pride. If you want to make it as a hero, you can't let your so-called pride get in the way of saving a life or defeating a villain. If you can't learn to handle that, consider dropping out now."

Ok, that was a bit harsh, but so was everything else that Aizawa said. He kept himself once again from looking up at where his copy was sitting with Eri in the stands. How stupid could he be? Actually, he knew the answer to that question; Eri wouldn't be free from Overhaul right now if he was at all skilled in making logical decisions. For someone with completely screwed-up emotions, he tended to base a lot of his decisions completely around them. 

The students were ushered from the field as the recreational games were set up and Michi saw Shoto walking away quickly on his own. He groaned, knowing that if he was alone, Endeavor would almost certainly show up to torment him. He hoped Shoto kept his words in mind; he'd finally broached the subject of his flames directly the day before, and it had ended about as well as could be expected.

Michi sighed as the conversation replayed in his head.

"Shoto, your father isn't the only person that this choice affects. There are plenty of other ways you can defy him. As your friend, I want you to get stronger, and part of that is using your left side. You only have one quirk; not your father's flames and your mother's ice, it's half-cold, half-hot."

Shoto didn't seem to budge, but he didn't just dismiss what he'd said, so that was good. "It's not just that, Michi," he'd insisted. "The fact is, I got my fire from my father and my ice from my mother. I can't pretend that my right side doesn't represent him, not when my mother gave me a permanent reminder over my eye."

Michi's own eyes widened. "Your mother did that to you?"

"It wasn't her fault!" Shoto defended. "She loved me, and we spent a lot of time together. It's just, eventually, my old man hurt her enough that she lost it. She had a breakdown and scarred my right side because she couldn't handle me, someone she loved, resembling him so much."

Basically, the direct connection between his right side and his trauma ran a lot deeper than Michi had expected. The story helped Michi understand Shoto's stubbornness, now—and maybe possibly gave the Savior a new vendetta against the Number Two hero—but he couldn't give up.

For one, Shoto would need the strength to reach his full potential. One top of that, thought, fire was unpredictable. Someday, whether intentional or not, Shoto would end up using his flames. If that day came during an emergency, after a lifetime of suppressing and ignoring that power, his lack of practice and control could be deadly for anyone around him, including himself.