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Just a game

The atmosphere of the room is relatively calm this morning. Well, as calm as you'd expect it to be on the morning of the sports festival. The students are all waiting in class 1-A's waiting area. Ready to be called upon in a few minutes to make their debut at their first Sports Festival.

Izuku sits cross-legged on one of the tables in the room, ignoring Iida's long tirade about the impertinence of it all, and watches as the first signs of anxiety start to manifest itself in his classmates' body language. Some of them are subtle, like the stiffness in Kaminari's shoulders as he speaks animatedly with Kirishima, or the vibrating movement of Uraraka's leg as she taps the floor repeatedly, creating a rhythmic echo that spreads throughout the room. The recurring sound seems to add to some of the other's anxiety, although none of them seem to notice, too engrossed in their own growing sense of nervousness. Izuku, for his part, isn't too concerned, it was just a game after all. A real one, this time.

His phone beeps in his pocket, startling him out of his musing. Further investigation proves that it's a message from Yashi. Isn't Mic supposed to be preparing to host this thing? Why was he texting him now?

Apparently, the man wants to meet him in the viewing room in a couple of minutes. The text is vague and strangely suspicious, considering that Mic isn't one to remain tight-lipped on surprises.

He hops down from his perch, about to make his way out the room. However, Todoroki seems to have other plans for him. The boy blocks his way as soon as his feet hit the ground. Straightening out, he narrows his eyes at the teen, trying to gauge out his intentions while calming down the suspicious voice in his head that tells him to be wary of any potential threats.

"Midoriya." Todoroki starts, voice as cold and monotone as ever. "Logically speaking, I am stronger than you." The boy says, not noticing the crowd his words inevitably gathered around them. Izuku has to stifle down the urge to scoff at the boy's statement. "And although you probably have more experience than I do, I assure you that I will beat you." Behind the half and half user, Izuku sees Kirishima stepping up as if to speak out. Knowing the redhead, the boy is probably prepared to jump in and defend his honor or something. However, before the teen has the chance to interfere, Izuku speaks up. Leveling his voice down to a low warning.

"Have fun with that." He says, letting his Kirito side take over his demeanor for a moment, his hands slide until they plant themselves in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing into an unperturbed stance. The perfect picture of an unconcerned opponent. With that, he takes his leave, ignoring the whispers that ripple through the room like waves, or the mismatched glare he feels boring into his retreating back.

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Mei isn't a patient girl. In fact, the one thing she hates more than anything is waiting. She hates the anticipating bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she paces in circles in the arena's viewing room. Yashi follows her movements with clear amusement on his face. He has a frustratingly huge smirk adorning his features that she just wants to wipe right off. Maybe punch it straight off his stupid mustached face. It seems Aizawa notices her growing sense of unrest, since he shoots Mic a warning glance, effectively erasing the smile from the blonde-haired man.

Urging herself to calm down, she takes in a few deep breaths. It's only been a few minutes, after all, since Mic told Kirito to come here.

Kirito.

She can't believe he's here. It feels like ages since she last saw him. She had started to lose hope of ever meeting her SAO friends in real life. That is until Mic walked into her English class.

She remembers the last time she saw her friend. That fateful day before the Clearers all went to fight on the front lines. The final battle. The last time she ever fixed Kirito's gear. The gear that she later found out, didn't withstand the fight with Heathcliff.