The middle way.
Easier said than done.
Midoriya frowned in annoyance as he sat at his desk that morning, mentally molding over what Danny had told him.
He was trying too hard? Not what he had said directly, but in Midoriya's mind, it came pretty close to what he'd said. He should be trying harder to not push himself over the edge, and instead create...a platform. To stand on. Not fall to his death.
Sure, 100% was cool and all, but he needed control over the outlet, or he'd break his bones more often than he could count. Maybe...he could try to use less? That was a thing, right? Just...take it easier, focus a whole lot more and have less percent shoot through his bones. Less energy should prevent them from actually shattering in his body, at least. But just how much did he need to 'hold back' on? Consistently? 50%? 25? 10? It'd be not nearly as powerful as a full-powered Smash, but it'd be something...
Something was better than nothing, after all.
But still...
He needed a way to figure out how to regulate it.
And soon.
The Training Grounds seemed peaceful, that afternoon. The two connected buildings in the form of circular cylinders, more often used later in the year, had a bit of a watery sun shining above, and few clouds obscured it from time to time. It was also quiet...
Too quiet.
That's also what Aizawa thought as he sat crouched behind one of the columns holding up the building. The other three had to have planned it all out. But Aizawa and the others knew nothing, so they were waiting.
Not something Present Mic liked doing. He was constantly fidgeting with his headphones and glasses, and Aizawa could swear he put the reverb on his speakers down at one point. He was planning on going easy on the kids.
Aizawa wasn't.
Ectoplasm seemed content with the situation, especially since he was the one that had thought of it in the first place. He'd laid down the ground rules also, and knowing his way around the arena particularly well, he had an advantage over Aizawa and Mic. This was his Training Ground.
Nezu and some of the other teachers (All Might, Recovery Girl, Midnight, and Cementoss) were in the observation room, waiting for the match to begin as well.
Aizawa was feeling nothing in particular about it. Yes, they were his students, but they were also Heroes in their own...world, for the lack of a better word. The only thing that he was feeling weird about was the fact that he'd be monitored while 'fighting', something he wasn't used to. But it'd have to happen.
A quick toot of a horn suggested the beginning of the match, but nobody moved. That was their strategy. Lure them out of hiding instead of walking into a trap.
It was the only weakness they had.
They had no clue what they could do.
The school had their records, but that was just what they'd told them. And sure, Aizawa had them in his classes, but there were seventeen other troublemakers he had to keep an eye on during training. All Might might've seen something, but he hadn't spoken to the man in a few days.
He enjoyed the silence that gave him.
Present Mic and Ectoplasm had had them in other classes, but not physical ones. They had even littler idea than Aizawa did. And Aizawa knew little.
Foley did magnets, Manson did plants and Fenton did...whatever the hell that was. He could use his capture weapon as a shield against the marbles, and possibly cut through the vines. But that mist...
He had no counter for that.
Pulling his goggles over his head, he nodded at Mic, who gave him a thumbs up. Five minutes of zero action had already passed, and Aizawa was not risking the fact that they could plan something to the very detail. Because of course, those kids would look up the teachers they'd be fighting against.
He used his capture weapon to propel himself upwards, and he climbed the building with practiced ease.
Mic was easy enough to find footage off, at least. He was, after all, a very public hero. And with his radio show at the side as well, there was plenty of footage to gather information from.
Another reason why Aizawa preferred to work in the shadows.
Coming to a halt on top of their half of the arena, he crept forward until he could look down on their part of the building. Not that it helped much. The lower half of the space was packed with mist. Aizawa couldn't even see the floor, let alone two, maybe three floors above.
Okay, so maybe they had a plan.
"What the hell did you do!?"
"Like I hadn't announced it?"
"You were supposed to cover half! Not the whole thing!"
"Well, I'm sorry that I 'overdid' myself for the sake of victory!"
"Like this is helping!"
Unlike Aizawa suspected, the Trio down in the base of the building wasn't working with a strategy, a plan, or any structure in their actions. At all. They'd thought of some possible combos, obviously, but between classes, their actual mission, and things like eating and sleeping, they hadn't had much time to coordinate an attack beforehand, let alone do any research. Danny had managed to talk to Midoriya about Aizawa for a bit, but it didn't last long before he became more of a mumbling and conspiring mess that he couldn't help but tune out of. He knew a bit about Present Mic since they had his radio show playing while they (Sam) were cooking at home, but that was about it. Ectoplasm? They only knew him by name.
Sam feared for Danny's well-being at hearing it.
They knew about Mic and Aizawa, but what Ectoplasm could do? Sam could only think of horrible things. Manipulating it, steering it, making it, dissolving it, or a combination of several of them or maybe even all of them. He'd chosen the name with a reason, right? You look into what you call yourself as a hero. You wouldn't just...pick a random word and not figure it out.
Unless he had and she was overthinking it.
So while Sam was stressing out and Danny was annoyed, Tucker was feeling pretty good. He'd gotten some more training time the last couple of days, and he was certain he could do more than at the beginning. Lifting one person was fun and all, but not very...powerful. Yet. So he'd taken on himself to try and figure out more he could do. Not that he'd told the others, of course. Blame him for not telling them he skipped out on some sleep. They used to do it all the time, but since they'd gotten here they were all about health and, dare he say it, vitamins.
Tucker shuddered at the thought.
"Cold?" Danny asked as he crossed his arms.
Tucker gave a bored look back. "You wouldn't believe me if I said it was last night's dinner."
"What was wrong with last night's dinner!?" Sam yelled at Tucker, who had dared to insult her skills.
"Too much green!"
"Something wrong with green?" both Danny and Sam asked.
Tucker held up his hands. "Whatever."
They stuck with silence, the only sound coming from the cold air sizzling around them and Tucker's boot hitting the ground as he kicked at some loose rocks of asphalt. The small stones rolled around a while before coming to a halt, and Tucker sighed.
"What's wrong now?"
"Sheesh, I'm breathing. Excuse me."
"Are we going to attack or what?" Sam interrupted them. The nerves were getting to her, and she wanted to finish this off as soon as possible. "Or do you need some cooling-off time?"
"Danny star—"
"I'm always coo—"
Then they heard the scream.