A Boy and His Dragon.

ⅩⅤ

The sports festival, probably one of Japan's and the world's most-watched events minus the Olympics. Crowds of people, pro heroes, students, civilians from all over Musutafu and Japan crowded into the large stadium, all chatting and waiting.

Some were parading through the large number of stalls, some were merch, and most were food and games. They were all vast colors, some shades of blue to the brightest shades of pink. The smell of amazing food wafting from some of the stalls roped in lots, pulling out and paying with their yen bills or coins.

It was less than an hour till the start of the festival, and most were buzzing in their seat. Pros couldn't wait to scout out potential students for internships and possibly future sidekicks. Some were chatting with their sidekicks and co-workers or fellow friends, chatting over the noise of constant chatter booming in the stadium.

Some were making predictions on who would win and what their familiar was. In the commentator box, where Mic, Aizawa, and their familiars resided, the two were making bets on the outcome. It wasn't pretty, but it sure as hell was petty.

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In the locker room of 1-A, everyone was hyping themselves up, whether in their head or the mirror that resided in each locker's doors. Who knows. Some were pulling their hair out of their faces or fixing their sweatbands, but Katsuki was chilling on the couch, reading some action manga he found mildly interesting, Deku resting on his chest and Kirishima resting near his feet.

Kaminari was currently in the bathroom or wherever; he didn't really catch it. Izuku's slow rise and fall of his chest were in tune with his own, one hand lazily scrolling down the manga pages, the other on the small body of his familiar, no larger than a juvenile house cat. Izuku tucked his pretty green wings into his body, tail curled at the side, and was lax on Katsuki's chest. By the time Kaminari got back, Katsuki was halfway through the manga, and it was almost time for the festival. Putting his phone in his locker and placing the now awake Izuku on his shoulder, they were ready to be called out.

Everyone stood and did little arm stretches and taking deep breaths, but Katsuki was currently arguing with Izuku, who was stuffing himself into Katsuki's top. "I swear to god Deku, if you bite my nip, I will disown you," Katsuki warned, feeling Izuku shuffle in his shirt, face resting on his right pec.
Very, almost too close to his nip. Katsuki could almost hear the cogs moving in Izuku's brain and warned him for a second time. "If you lick it, I will snap your neck," There was a dangerous calmness to his voice, and Izuku almost wanted to pull back on his plans, knowing Katsuki would deprive him of cuddles.

He's clingy and a sucker for cuddles; what can he say. Yet the threats didn't deter the little fuckwipe, inching closer, his paw hovering over the nipple. He never said anything about pinching. Using his claws, he pinched and twisted, giving Katsuki the equivalent of a purple nurple.

Katsuki screeched quietly, yanking the fucker out of his shirt, holding him by the scruff as he rubbed his sore nip. "You asswipe," Katsuki glared before allowing Izuku to crawl back into his shirt, the large boom of Mics voice echoing. He knew no matter how much he tried, Izuku would crawl into his shirt, no matter what. He didn't like large crowds and being out in the open while doing nothing, it made him anxious. "-AND HERE THEY ARE, CLASS 1-A!" Mic's voice boomed, quirk amplifying his already loud voice as 1-A walked out. "FOLLOWED BY 1-B, 1-C, AND 1-D!! GIVE A WARM WELCOME TO THEM ALL!!"

Present Mic wasn't biased on any terms, always wanting to allow everyone to have their own introduction and feel included. All of the classes pooled into the stadium, some of their familiars in their mindscape, others hiding in clothing, hair, or wherever they could weasel their way in. Midnight stood on the concrete stage, in her scandalous hero outfit, as everyone whispered about it.