The sun glared down on the tributes as they stood on their metal plates, each surrounded by the golden horn of the Cornucopia. Izuku's heart pounded like a drum, but his eyes remained fixed on the assortment of supplies ahead. A trident gleamed in the sun's light—a familiar weapon, one he had used countless times back in District 4. Yet, the moment the countdown began, his gaze drifted to the nearest tribute: a scrawny girl trembling in fear.

☆☆☆☆☆

"She won’t last ten seconds," Izuku thought. But a pang of guilt struck him. Wasn’t he in her shoes once—weak, afraid, but driven by a desire to do the right thing? His fists clenched. "I can’t save everyone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try."

He hasn't realized you were nearby, watching him like a hawk. Your intentions were a mystery.

"Ten… Nine…" The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena. He scanned the bloodbath waiting to unfold. A massive boy from District 1 cracked his knuckles, his eyes locked on the same trident.

Great, Izuku sighed. Of course, he’d want that too.

"Three... Two… One!"

The gong sounded. Izuku sprinted—not for the Cornucopia, but toward the edge of the field. The instincts drilled into him back in District 4 took over. Survival first, confrontation later. His feet barely touched the ground as he zigzagged between crates and tributes, avoiding the chaos erupting behind him. Screams filled the air; metal clashed against flesh. He dared a glance back—District 1 had claimed the trident, just as Izuku predicted.

But his escape wasn’t without gain. Clutched in his hand was a coil of rope and a small first aid kit. Enough to survive for now.

An hour later, hidden within the canopy of a twisted tree, Izuku reflected on his first move. He couldn’t match the brute strength of the Careers, but he didn’t need to. He’d outthink them, just like he always had.