The roar of the crowd still echoed in Kenjiro Sasaki's ears as he stood atop the winner's podium, the gold medal hanging heavy around his neck. The sun beat down on the shattered arena—his battlefield—its surface scorched and cratered, a silent testament to the final clash between him and Bakugo. No commentary could've captured the ferocity of what had happened out there.
To his left, Katsuki Bakugo stood on the silver platform, his jaw tense as he clenched the medal between his teeth like he wanted to chew through it. His arms were wrapped in fresh bandages, his costume frayed and blackened from the explosions he'd unleashed with reckless abandon. Yet his glare was unbroken, that fiery inferno in his crimson eyes burning hotter than ever.
"Next time," Bakugo growled through clenched teeth, "I'm blowing you to hell."
Kenjiro smirked, his posture relaxed even as his muscles ached beneath his uniform. "Keep dreaming, Sparky."
To his right, Midoriya and Todoroki stood awkwardly on the shared bronze step. Midoriya's fingers twitched—each subtle movement betraying the anxious over-analysis churning in his head. Todoroki, by contrast, stood statuesque, expression carved from stone, though the subtle tension in his jaw told Kenjiro all he needed to know. Losing still tasted bitter.
Then came the booming voice that could shake glass.
"I AM HERE—"
Midnight's whip cracked before All Might could finish. "Oops! Sorry, big guy~!"
All Might chuckled good-naturedly, brushing it off as he stepped onto the platform with the medals in hand. His smile didn't falter for even a moment—this was his stage, and he wore his symbol like armor.
He began with Todoroki.
"Young Todoroki," All Might intoned, placing the bronze around Shoto's neck. "You're still learning to wield both halves of yourself. That's not weakness. It's growth. Keep pushing forward."
Todoroki looked up at him, silent for a long moment before nodding. "I will."
All Might turned to Midoriya, his tone softening. "Young Midoriya. You've grown immensely. And not just in strength. I'm proud of you."
Midoriya's eyes glistened instantly. "T-Thank you, All Might— I—"
All Might ruffled his hair, laughing. "Save the tears for the end of your journey, not the beginning!"
Bakugo's turn.
All Might approached him with the silver. "Young Bakugo. You gave it your all. You have the heart of a fighter—"
Bakugo snatched the medal from his hands and growled, "Don't patronize me. I'm not done."
All Might smiled wryly. "I wouldn't dare. I expect nothing less than domination from you next time."
Then came Kenjiro.
The Symbol of Peace faced him, and for a second, Kenjiro felt the weight of that shadow—a legacy that stretched generations.
"Young Sasaki," All Might said, voice level. "You have tremendous power. But it's not power that defines a hero. It's how you grow. Don't become complacent. Never plateau."
He leaned in closer, voice dropping low enough for only Kenjiro to hear.
"You have something... unique. Don't waste it."
Kenjiro met his gaze. "Wasn't planning on it."
All Might's grin returned in full force. "Excellent!"
---
In the Classroom 1-A
Aizawa dismissed them with his usual dry flair as the crowd began to disperse.
"Two days off. Rest up. When you come back, we're going over your draft offers. Don't slack."
The class buzzed with excitement. Draft offers from Pro Heroes. Their first real taste of the world beyond school.
But Kenjiro's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
At Hosu General Hospital, Tenya Iida burst into the recovery ward. The smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beep of machines filled the room where his brother, Tensei—Ingenium—lay in a coma of shattered bones and broken pride.
"Nii-san!" Tenya's voice cracked, eyes wide.
Tensei stirred weakly, his voice rasping. "Tenya... I let you down."
Tenya gripped his brother's hand. "No. I'll make this right. I promise."
His glasses glinted with purpose. Something had ignited in him—a new mission.
Elsewhere, Shoto Todoroki stood before a familiar door in the psychiatric ward. It had been years since he dared face what lay beyond it. His heart hammered.
Fuyumi hovered at his side. "You don't have to—"
"I do."
The door creaked open.
His mother turned from her chair, her eyes wide. "...Shoto?"
He stepped in, his resolve firm. "I'm here. To bring you home."
The silence that followed was not hollow—but healing.
Back outside the stadium, Kenjiro walked alone, the golden medal swinging lightly from his neck, catching the last rays of the sun.
People cheered his name. Cameras clicked. Reporters scrambled to get interviews.
But his mind was already elsewhere.
He could still feel the heat from Bakugo's final blast, the raw impact of Howitzer Impact. Could still hear the crunch of bone from Todoroki's ice strikes, still see Midoriya's eyes glow with wild determination.
Each of them had something to prove. Each of them had grown.
And so had he.
But there was still something gnawing at him, just beneath the surface.
I won... but how much further can I go?
His thoughts returned to All Might's words.
Don't stagnate.
With the Pro Hero draft approaching, he knew his next move had to be perfect. Agencies would be watching. Expectations would rise. The real test wasn't who could shine in a stadium—it was who could survive in the field.
As he looked up at the sky turning from gold to twilight, Kenjiro Sasaki smiled.
The Sports Festival was over.
But his war was just beginning.