Chapter 42

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍
⤷ maximized my time better.

ODA MOVED AWAY FROM the group without another word, boots crunching softly against stone as he followed the slope upward and then around, scanning for signs of collapse, listening for voices beneath the wind and shifting rock that meant someone was trapped beneath debris.

He found it a minute later.

A pocket beneath a fallen overhang, stone suspended precariously above a small hollow. 

“Help!” Two voices called from inside. 

Oda stopped, inhaled once, and crouched.

“Okay.” He muttered to himself, voice low and steady. “Let’s not make this worse.”

He extended his quirk carefully this time, not forcing, not ripping the mountain apart the way he could if he panicked. He eased the weight upward instead, distributing the pressure so the rock didn’t collapse further, holding it in an artificial balance.

“There’s a hero here.” He called out, louder now. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

A faint, shaky response echoed back.

Oda grit his teeth, sweat already forming at his temples as the strain crept into his chest, but he held it, guiding stone aside inch by inch, carving a safe opening where there hadn’t been one before.

He held the stone exactly where it was, every muscle in his body locked tight as the weight fought him, gravity screaming at him to let go. His ribs ached beneath the hidden metal plating, a dull pressure.

“Okay,” he said again, slower this time, forcing calm into his voice because panic was contagious and he couldn’t afford to let it spread. “I’m going to move the rock above you. When I do, don’t rush. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

There was a cough from inside the pocket, followed by a weak, frightened, “O-okay.”

Oda shifted his stance, feet braced against uneven ground, and lifted. The slab rose just enough to create space, pebbles trembling in the air as if time itself had stalled around them. He reached into the opening with one hand, careful not to disrupt the balance, and felt fabric, skin, the unmistakable warmth of a human arm.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He guided the first victim out slowly, easing them onto stable ground before adjusting the stone again, redistributing the weight so it wouldn’t crash down once he pulled back. His breathing stayed even, shallow, deliberate. He could feel the drain creeping in, the familiar tug at his stamina, but it wasn’t the frantic burn it used to be. 

The second victim was harder. Deeper. Wedged beneath fractured rock that wanted to collapse the second he touched it.

Oda paused, swallowing hard, and forced himself not to rush.

“Hey,” he called into the pocket. “I need you to listen to me, alright?”

A faint sound answered him, barely more than a breath.

“I’m going to move the debris above your legs,” he continued. “It’s going to feel weird. Maybe scary. But if you stay still, I promise you’ll be okay.”

He adjusted his quirk again, layering it tighter around the stone, creating an invisible brace that held everything exactly where it was supposed to be. He held firm and reached in, carefully freeing the trapped legs before pulling the victim out inch by inch.

When the second person was finally clear, Oda released the stone in a controlled drop, letting it settle harmlessly back into place with a heavy thud that echoed through the mountains.

Only then did he step back.

“Alright,” he said, breathless but steady. “You’re safe. Follow that path down and keep pressure on any injuries. There’s a first aid station near the base.”

The two actors stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before one of them nodded emphatically. “You were really calm,” the woman said. “That helped. A lot.”

Oda gave a small shrug, already turning away. “Just doing what I’m here for.”

He moved on before they could say anything else, pushing deeper into the disaster zone, listening, feeling, scanning. He redirected falling rocks before they could crush escape routes, lifted rubble just enough for others to crawl free, guided panicked victims with short, clear instructions that didn’t waste time or energy.

By the time he regrouped near the makeshift aid station, his legs were heavy and his head throbbed, but the tight knot in his chest had eased. He hadn’t frozen. He hadn’t panicked. And despite every instinct screaming at him that this place looked too much like Kamino, he hadn’t lost control.

As he stepped back, hands returning to his pockets out of habit, he caught sight of Kaminari and Kirishima in the distance, both busy escorting victims and actually doing pretty well for themselves. Bakugo was farther off, loud as ever, completely grumpy.

Oda exhaled slowly.

The exam ended relatively quickly for Oda, or at least it felt that way.

Gang Orca had played the role of the villain for the exercise, his presence alone enough to spike adrenaline levels across the disaster zone, and when he had “attacked” the first aid station Oda had been nowhere near the front lines.

By the time Oda had finished escorting the last of the victims he’d located out of danger, redirecting falling debris and guiding shaking hands toward safety, the main action had already shifted.

The evacuees he’d helped were taken to the second first aid station farther from Gang Orca’s path, where the sound of combat echoed in the distance—Inasa and Todoroki clashing with Gang Orca while Midoriya, several other students from Class 1A, and a handful from Ketsubutsu Academy supported them.

Oda hadn’t seen much of the fight itself, only the aftermath, but that was fine with him.

When the final buzzer rang, sharp and final, cutting through the chaos, Oda felt a quiet, steady sense of confidence settle in his chest.

He’d done what he was supposed to do.

The hundred examinees gathered together once the workers had completely demolished the facility, the elaborate disaster zone reduced piece by piece until only the stage remained. Dust still hung faintly in the air, clinging to clothes and hair, but everyone had already changed back into their school uniforms. 

The adrenaline had worn off, replaced with nervous energy that buzzed under the skin. People shifted their weight, whispered to one another, glanced around with tight expressions and restless hands. Even Oda, who usually kept his reactions buried deep, felt the tension coil in his stomach.

Mera stood at the podium with a massive screen behind him, looking just as exhausted as he had that morning, if not more so.

“Okay. Everyone.” Mera sighed, rubbing his face briefly before straightening. “Thanks for your hard work in today’s exam. Now, before I announce the results, I should probably explain the way we evaluated you. Between HUC and those of us at the Heroes Public Safety Commission, we had a two-fold demerit system that we used to determine your total scores. In other words, we were evaluating you based on how few mistakes you made in a crisis situation.”

Oda’s shoulders tensed slightly at that. Mistakes. He replayed the exam in his head without meaning to, scanning for moments where he might have slipped, where hesitation or poor judgment could have cost him points.

Mera motioned to the screen behind him. “Anyway, the names of those of you who passed are listed here in alphabetical order. Keep my words in mind as you search the screen for your name.”

The screen flashed on, and eighty-nine names appeared in clean, orderly rows.

Oda’s eyes moved immediately, scanning faster than he realized he could, heart thudding hard against his ribs. He found his name near the middle of the list and felt the tension drain out of him all at once. Thank fucking god. Ango was going to kill him if his name hadn’t been up there. There was no doubt about that.

“Killed it!” Kaminari let out, his voice cutting through the murmurs as a few other students cheered, some laughing in disbelief, others clapping each other on the shoulders.

Everyone from Class 1A but two.

“Right on!” Kirishima grinned when he saw his name, fist pumping once before his expression shifted. His eyes flicked to the ash-blond standing next to him, the excitement draining into confusion. “But, uh…”

Bakugo wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t shouting either. He stood rigid, jaw clenched so tightly Oda could see the muscles in his face twitch, red eyes locked onto the screen.

He was so angry that all he could manage was a single, broken sound. “No…”

Todoroki’s name also wasn’t there. Inasa wasn’t from their class, but his name was missing as well, and Oda couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with their confrontation with Gang Orca.

“Holy crap. Did he really fail?” Ashido stared openly at Todoroki, disbelief written all over her face.

“How could two of our top classmates not pass the exam?” Sero wondered aloud, his tone equal parts shock and confusion.

“Shoulda been more careful what you said.” Kaminari chimed in, glancing at Bakugo with a wince. “Words are important you know.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward him, fury blazing. “Shut your mouth before I murder you.”

“Nope.” Kaminari immediately ducked behind Oda, grabbing onto the back of his uniform like a shield. Oda, for his part, very deliberately avoided looking at Bakugo at all, keeping his gaze fixed forward as if the screen in front of them were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

From the stage, Mera went on, his voice still carrying that same exhausted, barely-holding-it-together cadence. “So, next we’ll give you the printouts of your results. They include a breakdown of your scores so you’ll know exactly what areas you need to improve going forward.”

As if on cue, men in black suits and sunglasses stepped forward from the sides of the stage, each holding thick stacks of paper. They moved efficiently through the crowd, their shoes crunching softly against the gravel-strewn ground where the facility had once stood. 

“Edogawa.” The man stopped in front of him and held out the paper without ceremony.

Oda took it, then watched as the man passed another to Kaminari and another to Kirishima before moving on. Oda didn’t look down right away. He already knew he’d passed, but the specifics—the numbers, the official judgment—made his stomach tighten all over again.

“Hand it over. I wanna see.” Bakugo demanded, leaning in sharply, eyes already burning holes into Oda’s paper.

“How about you focus on you.” Oda scoffed, turning the paper away just enough to block Bakugo’s view, his tone flat but edged. He wasn’t in the mood to have his results picked apart, especially not by someone who was already seconds away from detonating.

“We lobbed off points when you did something wrong, fall below fifty and you were done.” Mera continued from the stage, gesturing vaguely at the crowd. “These demerits were itemized on your result forms as you’ll see, so I’d look at them.”

That did it. Oda finally glanced down.

The page was dense, lines of text and numbers broken into categories, each one documenting moments from the exam with clinical precision. He could almost see himself moving through the rubble again as he read it, every choice reduced to ink on paper.

Kaminari leaned heavily against Oda’s shoulder, craning his neck. “What’d ya get?”

“90.” Oda answered after a beat, his eyes scanning the notes beneath the score. “Apparently they thought I could have done more and maximized my time better, and that my quirk would have been more useful in an urban area.”

He said it plainly, but the comments stung more than he wanted to admit. There was always more he could have done. There always would be.

“Still, that’s really high.” Kaminari gawked, straightening a little as if Oda’s score reflected on him by proximity. “I got sixty-one but mostly ’cause we really only helped two people. Guess I shoulda gone with you.”

“Don’t use me to coax by.” Oda sighed, shifting slightly to dislodge Kaminari’s weight without outright pushing him off.

“I’m just sayin’. Can’t help that I was with Mr. Loud Mouth over there.” Kaminari muttered, casting a cautious glance toward Bakugo, who was staring down at his own paper. His hands were clenched so tight the page was crumpling at the edges.

“Anyway,” Mera went on, tapping the podium to pull everyone’s attention back. “Moving forward, those of you who passed can exercise the same authority as pro heroes, but only in emergency situations.” His eyes drifted lazily across the crowd. “In other words, fighting villains, saving the victims of criminal acts or accidents. You may act using your best judgment with no direct orders. Keep in mind that your every action from now on carries with it a deep responsibility towards bettering our society, and that the world is watching you.”

Oda folded his paper slowly, the words the world is watching you echoing uncomfortably in his head as he slid it into his pocket.

Mera went on, his voice carrying across the cleared lot, “I’m sure you’re aware that All Might, our greatest hero, no longer has his incredible power. One of the reasons crime in this country has been so low is due to his presence. With that deterrent gone, criminals are sure to become bolder and more widespread. Expect the balance we currently have in our world to be destroyed, and for things to quickly change. You young people will be the hope for our future.”

The words hit Oda harder than he expected.

He nearly flinched, his shoulders tensing before he could stop it. A small, tiny part of him had been carrying that thought ever since Kamino, tucked away in a corner of his mind he didn’t like to open. He wondered, not for the first time, if Ango had been pissed about it too. 

The implication that lingered unspoken but unavoidable. The fact that, if he and Bakugo hadn’t been captured, there was a chance—however slim—that All Might might still be the Symbol of Peace Japan and the world relied on.

It wasn’t something Oda let himself dwell on. Thoughts like that had a way of burrowing in and hollowing him out, and he didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not when Ango demanded progress. Not when every day of Oda’s future hinged on his ability to prove his worth, to justify the resources, the secrecy, the second chances. Guilt was a useless emotion in the face of expectations like that.

Still, his eyes flicked sideways despite himself, landing on Bakugo.

He didn’t have to ask. One look told him the thought had occurred to Bakugo too.

Of course it had. Bakugo had been there. He’d seen the aftermath, watched All Might fall apart in front of the entire world. Even if Bakugo wasn’t the type to consciously sit with guilt, even if he buried it under anger and stubbornness and sheer forward momentum, it was there. Oda could see it in the way his gaze had gone distant for just a fraction of a second before snapping back into focus.

Mera hadn’t stopped talking.

“It’s imperative that you become exemplary heroes. That your reputations grow to suppress crime as his did. Remember, the license you earned today is provisional and you still have much to do. I would like for you to think of yourselves as fledglings and be even more diligent in your studies.”

“And as for those who fell short and did not pass,” Mera continued, his tone shifting just enough to draw everyone’s attention back. “We don’t have time for you to feel bitter about your loss. Instead, we offer you a chance to redeem yourselves. After you attend a three-month-long special course and pass an individual test, we plan to issue a provisional license to those of you who failed as well.”

The reaction was immediate.

The crowd gasped, relief rippling outward in waves, shoulders sagging as tension released all at once. Oda heard a few quiet laughs, some sharp inhales, the sound of people realizing that the door hadn’t slammed shut on them after all. He caught Bakugo’s posture shift almost imperceptibly, the way his rigid stance loosened just a fraction. Todoroki too, standing nearby, seemed to finally breathe.

“In order for us to reach the idyllic future that I just spoke of, we’re going to need as many good heroes on the streets as we can get,” Mera announced. “The first round was one to weed people out. But we would like to grow the one hundred selected in that test as much as possible. That’s why we watched you all until the end. So we could see for ourselves that you each have promise. That once your shortcomings are corrected you have the potential to be as great as your fellow classmates.”

Mera leaned forward into the podium, bracing himself with both hands. “This special course will keep you busy as it will run concurrently with your normal studies. You’re welcome to retake the exam in April if you prefer to wait.”

Once Mera had given his big speech, he waved a hand toward the far end of the cleared area, directing the eighty-nine who passed to the booths where their photos would be taken and their licenses made. Staff members moved into position, calling names, ushering students forward with practiced efficiency.

Oda went when it was his turn, standing under harsh lights as a camera flashed, capturing his face in a way that felt far too permanent for his liking. The idea that a small card could grant him authority in emergencies sat strangely with him.

And after that, after the last instructions were given and the paperwork was processed, the group was finally released back to the buses.

The sun was low by then, the sky washed in gold and orange, long shadows stretching across the ground where rubble had been only hours earlier. Oda paused for just a moment before boarding, looking out at the fading light, at the classmates around him laughing or talking quietly or staring off into the distance with thoughts of their own.

The future felt closer than ever.

And heavier too.