Chapter 21

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍
⤷ he’s like a mini version of you.

A WEEK LATER, the city felt oddly quiet. Classes were over, exams were finished. The break before summer camp stretched out in front of him like a thin, fragile peace, and he treated it carefully, as if sudden movement might shatter it.

He spent most of his days moving slowly.

Mornings were late, or at least later than usual, his body still demanding more rest than his pride wanted to give it. The ache beneath his ribs lingered in a dull, persistent way, not sharp enough to panic over but constant enough that he couldn’t forget it was there. 

He drank more water than he ever had in his life, took his medication on schedule for once, and avoided using his quirk unless absolutely necessary. Ranpo had mocked him relentlessly for that last part, but even Ranpo had stopped short of calling him reckless again.

Afternoons were spent outside when the weather allowed, sitting on rooftops or fire escapes with his back against warm concrete, watching the city. Trains passed. People argued. Somewhere far off, sirens wailed and then faded. The world kept moving.

It was almost nice.

Almost.

Because Ango Sakaguchi did not let things stay quiet for long.

The call came in the middle of one of those afternoons, Oda sitting on the edge of a low building near the agency, legs dangling over the side as he idly flicked a pebble back and forth between his fingers. His phone buzzed once, sharp and insistent, and the name on the screen was enough to make his stomach tighten before he even answered.

“Hello,” Oda said, voice flat.

There was no greeting on the other end, no pretense of politeness.

“Explain yourself,” Ango said.

Oda closed his eyes.

“I assume you saw the footage,” Ango continued, tone clipped and controlled in that way that always meant he was angry but refusing to show it outright. “Because if you didn’t, then I’ll summarize it for you. You were instructed to throw the final match. Instead, you won the entire Sports Festival, collapsed on live television, and had to be hospitalized for multiple days. Do you have any idea how many people noticed that?”

Oda exhaled slowly through his nose, fingers curling against the concrete beneath him.

“I didn’t intend to—”

“That is irrelevant,” Ango cut in immediately. “Intent does not erase outcome. You were told, very clearly, to end your participation in a way that would not draw further attention. You did the opposite. You became the headline.”

Oda stared out over the street below, watching pedestrians weave around one another, unaware of the conversation happening overhead.

“You humiliated Endeavor’s son on live broadcast,” Ango went on, voice growing sharper with every word. “You humiliated the entire first-year lineup. Do you understand how many variables that destabilized?”

“Bakugo pushed me,” Oda said quietly, and he hated how small that sounded. “I didn’t plan to—”

“You still chose to escalate,” Ango said. “You still chose to win.”

There it was.

The choice.

Oda’s jaw tightened. “You told me to give him a real fight.”

“I told you to lose in a controlled manner,” Ango snapped. “Not to nearly kill yourself proving a point.”

A bitter laugh slipped out of Oda before he could stop it. “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

Silence stretched on the line for a moment, heavy and uncomfortable.

“You are alive because we allow you to be,” Ango said finally, his voice colder now, stripped of irritation and reduced to something far more dangerous. “Do not forget that. The hero course is not immunity. Your guardian’s reputation is not immunity. And your talent is certainly not immunity.”

Oda swallowed, his throat dry.

“I know,” he said.

“You will not do something like that again,” Ango continued. “Summer camp is already a risk. Visibility is already increasing. If you continue to act on impulse, there will be consequences. Ones that Ranpo will not be able to laugh his way out of.”

The warning settled deep in Oda’s chest, heavier than the lingering pain in his organs.

“…Understood,” he said.

“Good,” Ango replied. “Enjoy your break. It may be the last quiet one you get.”

The call ended.

Oda lowered the phone slowly, letting it rest against his thigh as he stared at the city again, the peace he’d been enjoying suddenly feeling thinner than before. 

𓏵

THE BUS RIDE STARTED loud and stayed that way. UA’s charter bus rattled along the narrow road, branches blurring past the windows while the class filled the enclosed space with noise, complaints, and entirely too much energy for how early it still felt. The seats were assigned, technically, but that had done very little to stop people from leaning into aisles, turning around to talk, or just outright ignoring the rules entirely.

Oda sat by the window, one knee pulled up slightly, his shoulder resting against the cool glass as trees swallowed the city behind them. The farther they went, the worse his signal got, until his phone gave up entirely. He didn’t mind. There was something oddly comforting about being cut off, about knowing that for a little while there was nowhere else he was supposed to be.

That peace lasted approximately thirty seconds.

“I AM ASKING YOU TO SIT DOWN, AOYAMA,” Iida shouted from halfway up the aisle, chopping the air with his arms.

“I simply must stretch my legs!” Aoyama declared dramatically, one hand braced on the top of a seat as he sparkled with indignation. “This bus was not made for my brilliance!”

“It was made for sitting!” Iida snapped. “We are in transit, this is a safety issue!”

Behind Oda, Kaminari had his phone out anyway, blasting music at a volume that suggested he either wanted to be heard over the engine or was attempting to destroy it through sheer noise. Mina and Sero immediately leaned into it, nodding along, while Jiro flinched visibly in her seat.

“You’re going to blow out the speakers,” she warned.

“Worth it!” Kaminari yelled back.

Aizawa didn’t even look up from his sleeping bag.

The music cut off instantly.

A collective groan went through the bus.

“Oooooh come on,” Kaminari whined. “It was just getting good!”

“You’ll survive,” Aizawa muttered, eyes still closed. “If I hear it again, I’ll confiscate your phone.”

Bakugo chose that moment to snap.

“WHY ARE YOU ALL SO DAMN LOUD?” he roared, twisting in his seat to glare at… seemingly no one in particular, before his eyes landed on Oda and Todoroki a few rows up. “AND YOU TWO, WIPE THAT STUPID CALM LOOK OFF YOUR FACES!”

Oda blinked slowly and glanced sideways at Todoroki, who hadn’t moved at all.

“…We didn’t say anything,” Todoroki replied flatly.

“That’S WHAT MAKES IT WORSE,” Bakugo snarled.

Oda sighed and turned his head back toward the window. “You need a hobby that isn’t screaming at people.”

Bakugo surged halfway out of his seat. “WHAT DID YOU SAY, SHORT—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kirishima cut in immediately, popping up between them with practiced ease, one arm braced on Bakugo’s seat. “Not worth it, man. We just got on the bus. Save that energy for camp, yeah?”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, but he eventually slammed back into his seat, arms crossed.

The bus rolled on.

Gradually, the shouting softened into overlapping conversations. People settled. Aoyama finally sat down after Iida threatened to write him up for “reckless standing.” Kaminari leaned back, sulking without his music. Someone passed snacks down the aisle. Someone else complained about bugs. 

Oda watched the forest grow thicker, the road narrowing as sunlight broke through the canopy in uneven patches. This place felt different already. Remote. He shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting to the movement of the bus, and let himself breathe.

For now, at least, they were just kids on a bus.

𓏵

THEY HISSED TO A STOP as the brakes engaged, the engine rumbling down into silence as the vehicle came to an abrupt stop on a narrow cliffside turnout. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and beyond the guardrail the land dropped away sharply, forest stretching out below them in a dizzying sprawl of green.

“Finally, I needed off that bus!” Kaminari sighed as he stood and stretched, arms raised high over his head. 

Next to him, Oda just blinked and looked around, still seated, his mind lagging a second behind the sudden change in motion and noise. Before either of them could fully register where they were, Mineta shoved past them both with surprising force for someone his size.

“Let me get through, I gotta pee!” Mineta yelled, his voice shrill with panic as he scrambled down the aisle and practically launched himself off the bus steps. He immediately started running in tight circles on the gravel, eyes darting wildly as he searched for a restroom. There was nothing. Just cliff, trees, road, and sky. Oh boy.

“Huh, this isn’t much of a rest area.” Kirishima commented, scratching the back of his head as he stepped off the bus and looked around, confusion written plainly across his face. 

“I know. And where’s class B?” Jiro asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the surroundings. 

“You don’t really think we stopped here just so you could stretch your legs, do you?” Aizawa grumbled as he stepped off the bus last, hands in his pockets, posture loose and unimpressed. Mineta ran up to him immediately, skidding to a stop inches away.

“Huh?” Sero let out, glancing between the cliff, the car, and Aizawa with growing unease.

“Please sir, the toilet?” Mineta begged, voice cracking as he bounced on the balls of his feet, desperation radiating off him in waves.

Before Aizawa could respond, the doors to the black car popped open with a smooth mechanical click.

“Heya Eraser!” a voice chimed brightly as three figures climbed out of the vehicle. Two of them were dressed head to toe in unmistakable hero costumes, bold colors and stylized designs. The third hung back slightly, a young boy.

“Long time no see.” Aizawa grumbled as he bowed his head slightly in greeting.

“Welcome kiddos! We’re the Wild Wild Pussycats, glad to have ya!” two women sang out in unison, voices energetic and warm. One was blonde, the other brunette, both dressed in outfits that leaned unapologetically into their cat motif, ears, tails, and all.

“These are the pro heroes you’ll be working with during the training camp.” Aizawa informed them calmly as the students stared openly, eyes wide and expressions ranging from awe to disbelief as they took in the women.

“They’re a four person hero team who specialize in mountain rescues!” Midoriya chimed out immediately, bouncing slightly on his heels as information poured out of him. “The Pussycats were founded when we were kids like forever ago. This marks their 12th year working as a—”

He was cut off mid-sentence when Pixie-Bob reached out and grabbed him by the face with a pawed hand, squishing his cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure your math must be off. I’m eighteen at heart.”

“Understood.” Midoriya said muffledly, eyes wide as he nodded as much as the grip would allow.

“That’s so sad.” Kaminari mumbled under his breath to Oda and Kirishima, who both nodded in agreement, Kirishima biting back a grin while Oda just exhaled softly through his nose.

“Everyone, say hello.” Aizawa instructed flatly.

“Hello! Nice to meet you!!” the class of twenty-one said in unison, voices overlapping.

“We own this whole strip of land out here, everything you can see.” The brunette dressed in red, Mandalay, explained, sweeping an arm out over the vast expanse of forest below them. “The summer camp you’re staying at is there at the base of the mountain.”

A heavy silence settled over the group as dozens of heads tilted forward to peer down the cliffside, eyes tracing the sheer drop and the dense forest far, far below.

“Uh, then why did we stop all the way up here instead?” Uraraka asked, her voice light but edged with dread as realization began creeping in. Around her, shoulders tensed and a few students swallowed hard.

“I think we know the answer.” Oda mumbled. Beside him, Sato shook his head slowly, disbelief written all over his face.

“No, that can’t be right.” Sato gawked, eyes wide as he looked from Mandalay to the cliff to the bus.

“Uh-huh, everyone back on the bus, quick, let’s go.” Sero said nervously, already pivoting on his heel and pointing toward the open bus doors.

“Good idea. Load up.” Kaminari agreed immediately, backpedaling.

“Mhm. The current time is 9:30 in the morning… if you’re fast about it, you might make it there by noon.” Mandalay grinned, her smile far too cheerful.

“Save yourselves!” Kirishima yelled as panic exploded through the group, half the class bolting for the bus in a mad scramble while the other half hesitated just long enough to doom themselves.

“You should’ve guessed, students, the training camp has already begun.” Aizawa announced calmly, his voice cutting clean through the chaos just as Pixie-Bob slammed her hands into the ground.

The earth roared.

A wall of dust and stone erupted outward as Pixie-Bob’s quirk surged through the terrain, the ground beneath the students buckling violently. Before anyone could scream properly, the earth itself rose and flung them bodily over the side of the mountain, tossing heroes-in-training like loose debris.

Oda’s body spun once in the air, weightlessness snapping into freefall, but instinct kicked in. His quirk flared sharp and controlled, invisible force gripping him midair and halting his descent just short of disaster. He hovered there, suspended roughly three hundred feet below the ridge, heart pounding as he steadied himself and glanced down at the forest floor rushing closer for everyone else.

“Good news!” Mandalay called from atop the ridge, her voice carrying down to them. “Since this is private land, you can use your quirks as much as you want to! You’ve got three full hours! You should be able to make it to the facility in that time. That is… if you can get through the beast forest.”

“Beast forest?” Todoroki repeated, eyes narrowing as Oda landed next to him with controlled force nearby.

“Not sure I wanna know why she called it that.” Oda mumbled, his dark eyes sweeping the tree line, senses straining for movement.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Mineta, having landed closer to the trees, sprinted forward without thinking. He barely made it three steps into the forest before he skidded to a stop and screamed, terror overwhelming him so completely that he promptly peed himself.

Towering above him was a massive creature made entirely of dirt and stone, its body shaped like a monstrous leopard with jagged limbs and a snarling, half-formed face carved from earth. It moved with grinding weight, each step shaking the ground beneath it.

Todoroki reacted instantly, slamming his foot down as ice surged outward, freezing the beast’s legs in place before it could pounce.

Bakugo and Iida launched forward in the same heartbeat.

“Respiro-burst!”

“I’ll kill you!”

Explosions and speed collided as the two tore into the immobilized creature, shattering its lower half while cracks spiderwebbed up its stone torso. Before it could recover, Midoriya surged in, muscles glowing faintly as he drove a devastating blow straight through what remained of its core, pulverizing the creature into rubble.

Midoriya barely had time to land before another massive stone arm swung toward him from the side.

It never connected.

A red blur shot past him, impact echoing like thunder as Oda came down feet-first on the second beast’s skull. His quirk activated in a brutal, precise crush, gravity folding inward as the creature’s head collapsed straight through its own body. Stone caved, earth split, and the beast disintegrated into a lifeless pile of rock in seconds.

Silence followed, broken only by heavy breathing.

And then the forest moved.

Shapes shifted between the trees. Massive silhouettes lumbered forward. Dozens of more stone beasts emerged, crawling from the ground itself, climbing out of hillsides, stepping between trunks.

They were everywhere.

And thus, the training camp had begun.

𓏵

IT WASN’T LUNCHTIME WHEN they arrived, it wasn’t even close to that. By the time Class 1A finally staggered out of the forest and into the clearing where the camp facilities stood, the sun was already low in the sky, casting long orange shadows between the trees. It was evening. It was dinner time. They had missed lunch so completely it almost felt like a cruel joke.

Class 1A arrived at the camp in pieces.

Some of them were barely upright, leaning on one another or bracing themselves against trees. Others bore the marks of overused quirks—burns, frostbite, strained muscles, shallow cuts from stone claws or debris that hadn’t quite missed. 

The Wild Wild Pussycats had not expected this.

They stood near the entrance to the camp, expressions ranging from surprised to impressed as they took in the state of the class. 

Iida dragged one leg behind him, his engines sputtering weakly. Bakugo’s uniform was scorched in several places. Todoroki looked lopsided, the right side of his body rimed with ice while the left radiated heat unevenly, steam still rising faintly from his shoulders. Midoriya looked like he might fold in half at any second.

Oda stood among them with his hands in his pockets, black bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. A thin line of blood trailed from his nose, drying at the corner of his mouth, and his insides felt twisted and sore. Every step he took sent a dull ache through his ribs and abdomen, but he stayed upright out of sheer habit.

All in all, it was a miracle they had all made it.

“You said it would only be like three hours!” Sero whined the moment they were close enough to be heard as he dropped to the ground.

“I guess we judged it based on how long it would take us, sorry about that.” Mandalay chuckled.

“Now you’re braggin’ about how much better you are!?” Sero shot back, incredulous.

“Meow, meow, meow! I thought it would take you kids even longer!” Pixie-Bob chimed in with a wide grin. “But you did so much better against my dirt monsters than I thought you would! You guys were seriously great. Especially the five of you!” She pointed dramatically at Bakugo, Todoroki, Midoriya, Iida, and Oda. 

“Clearly you’ve all had a lot of training! I CALL DIBS ON THESE KITTENS! I’LL GROOM THEM MYSELF!” she hollered, immediately swarming toward the group.

The boys recoiled on instinct, exhaustion doing nothing to dull their alarm.

“Um— I don’t—”

“Hey! Cut it out!”

“Please stop—”

“Mandalay, has she always been like this?” Aizawa asked flatly, eyes half-lidded as he gestured toward Pixie-Bob enthusiastically harassing the five most battered students.

“It’s gotten worse lately.” Mandalay replied casually, “She’s at the age to take a mate.”

“Uh, speaking of people’s ages,” Midoriya started, clearly attempting to redirect the conversation, but Pixie-Bob immediately grabbed him by the face again.

“Choose your words carefully, boy.” Pixie-Bob threatened, smiling far too brightly.

Midoriya stiffened, then tried again. “I’ve just been wondering since we got here earlier,” he raised a hand and pointed toward a boy standing slightly apart next to Mandalay, “Who is that kid? What’s he doing here?”

“Oh, this little guy?” Mandalay chimed in easily. “He’s actually my cousin’s son. He just lives with us now. Don’t be shy, Kota, say hi to everyone. You’re gonna be around them for the next week.”

Kota did not say hi.

He glared.

Midoriya, ever earnest, approached the boy and smiled. “Hey there. My name’s Midoriya. I’m from the UA High School hero course. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out a hand for Kota to shake.

Kota responded by punching him square in the balls.

Midoriya dropped instantly, crumpling to the ground with a strangled sound as several students yelped in horror.

“The last thing I want is to hang with some wannabe heroes.” The child scowled before storming off, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“‘Wannabe’?” Iida demanded, immediately rushing to Midoriya’s side. “How old are you, kid?”

“That brat’s got spunk.” Bakugo smirked.

“He’s like a mini version of you.” Oda mumbled tiredly, not even looking at Bakugo as he spoke.

“What are you talking about?” Bakugo shouted back immediately, whirling on him. “You need to shut your mouth before I blast you all the way to hell!”

“That’s an overreaction.” Oda shot back flatly, too exhausted to muster any heat.

“Enough playing around.” Aizawa cut in. “Get your stuff off the bus. Once your bags are in your rooms, we’ll have dinner in the cafeteria. After that you can bathe and sleep.” His gaze swept over the class. “Tomorrow your training starts in earnest.”

That alone was enough to silence any remaining complaints.

The Pussycats fed Class 1A a wonderful meal that tasted every bit as good as Lunch Rush’s cooking back at UA. They ate slowly at first, then ravenously, conversation returning in low, tired murmurs as warmth and food settled into aching muscles. For a brief moment, it almost felt peaceful.

But even as they laughed quietly and leaned back in their chairs, the weight of what waited for them tomorrow lingered in the air.

Eraser Head had plenty planned for them.