Chapter 39
₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑
⤷ not interested in teaching anyone.
THE BUS ROLLED OUT of UA at exactly six in the morning, headlights cutting through the lingering blue-gray haze of dawn while most of the campus was still asleep. The engine hummed steadily beneath their feet, a low, constant vibration that rattled through the metal frame and into tired bones. Bags were shoved into overhead compartments, jackets draped over seats, and the collective mood of Class 1-A hovered somewhere between anxious anticipation and bone-deep exhaustion.
Oda took a seat by the window, forehead resting lightly against the cool glass as the city slowly slipped away behind them. Three hours. Three long, quiet hours before the provisional exam began. His body felt better than it had in weeks—sleep would do that—but his mind was still running a mile a minute.
Behind him, the boys had already started being loud.
It began innocently enough, with Kaminari scrolling through his phone and making a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “Oh come on,” he said, twisting around in his seat so half the bus could hear him. “You’re telling me none of you think Mt. Lady’s is the hottest? That’s just a lie.”
Jiro immediately snapped a kick into the back of his seat. “Can you not do this at six in the morning?”
“No, no, hear me out,” Sero chimed in, already leaning over the aisle. “I’m not saying she’s number one, but she’s definitely top five.”
“Top five?” Ashido scoffed loudly from across the bus. “Based on what, exactly?”
“Everything,” Kaminari replied without shame. “Confidence. Costume. The whole vibe.”
Uraraka crossed her arms, glaring. “You guys are unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably correct,” Kaminari corrected, grinning. “Okay, fine, who’s everyone’s number one, then?”
Groans rippled through the girls’ side of the bus as the boys immediately launched into overlapping opinions, names flying out faster than anyone could keep track of them. Midnight. Mirko. Ryukyu. Arguments sparked instantly, voices rising as people talked over one another, hands gesturing wildly.
Oda glanced back just in time to see Mineta climb up onto his seat, puffing his chest out. “If we’re talking objectively,” he announced, “then clearly Midnight—”
“No,” Jiro said flatly.
“—has the most appeal,” Mineta finished anyway, pointing dramatically. “It’s just science.”
“You don’t know what science is,” Jiro shot back.
In the middle of all of it, Bakugo sat rigidly in his seat, arms crossed tight over his chest, staring straight ahead like the conversation didn’t exist. He didn’t even roll his eyes. He just looked… irritated. Deeply, visibly uninterested.
Mineta noticed.
He leaned forward, squinting at Bakugo with a grin that spelled trouble. “Wow, Bakugo, you’ve been real quiet,” he said, voice dripping with false curiosity. “What, none of these ladies doing it for you? Or do you just… swing the other way?”
The bus went dead silent for exactly half a second.
Bakugo’s head snapped around so fast it was almost impressive. “Say that again,” he growled.
Mineta laughed nervously, clearly realizing he’d poked something dangerous but unable to stop himself. “I’m just saying—”
“I don’t swing at all,” Bakugo barked. He shot to his feet, palms slamming down on the tops of the seats. “And if you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you before we even get to the exam.”
Mineta shrank back instantly, hands up. “J-just kidding! Totally kidding!”
Kirishima leaned across the aisle, awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, hey, man, relax. It’s early. We’re all just tired.”
“Tired isn’t an excuse to be a fucking creep,” Bakugo snapped, dropping back into his seat with a scowl.
The chatter slowly picked back up, though noticeably quieter now, the earlier energy dulled by the near explosion. Oda turned back toward the window.
Three hours left.
Plenty of time to sit with nerves, with silence, and with the knowledge that once the bus stopped, there would be no more distractions.
𓏵
THE BUS HISSED AS it came to a stop, air brakes releasing with a sharp exhale that echoed against the massive concrete structure looming ahead of them. The facility was enormous, all stark angles and reinforced walls. High fencing ringed the perimeter, topped with security cameras and thick steel gates that made it painfully clear this was not a simulation playground like Gym Gamma.
One by one, the students filed off the bus, the early morning air already heavy with heat despite the sun barely being fully up. Hands reached underneath the bus as storage compartments popped open, and black and silver cases were dragged out.
“Ugh… I’m getting kinda nervous,” Jiro let out, fingers tightening around the handle of her case as she glanced up at the towering facility. Her shoulders were tense, posture tight in a way that betrayed how hard she was trying to play it cool.
“I wonder what they’re going to make us do,” Mineta said, bouncing from foot to foot like a wound-up spring. His eyes darted around wildly, already imagining disaster. “Ugh. What if I can’t get my license?”
“Mineta. Don’t ask if you can. Say you will,” Mr. Aizawa told him flatly.
“Right. Sure. I got this,” Mineta replied instantly, spine straightening, but he said it entirely unconvincingly.
Aizawa’s tired eyes swept over the rest of them, lingering just a moment longer than usual. “If you can pass this test and get your provisional licenses then you novice eggs will hatch into chicks. You’ll be semi-pros. I expect your best.”
A murmur rippled through the group, nerves and excitement tangling together until Kaminari suddenly threw an arm around Oda’s shoulders with enthusiasm. “Alright!” he laughed. “I can’t wait to be a heroic chicken.”
Oda snorted despite himself, the sound short and surprised, tension loosening just a fraction in his chest.
“Let’s call out the usual, you guys,” Kirishima said, pumping his fist into the air. “On my mark. Go Plus—”
“—Ultra!” another voice yelled, loud and proud, cutting straight through Kirishima’s shout.
The words echoed awkwardly between them.
Oda blinked, head snapping toward the unfamiliar voice. The guy standing there was tall—taller than most of them—with a wild grin and an almost overwhelming presence. Recognition clicked into place instantly. He’d seen him before. At the recommendation exam.
“Y’know it’s pretty rude to barge into other people’s huddles like that, Inasa,” another student said dryly, this one wearing a hat that matched the first guy’s.
“What? Pardon me,” Inasa boomed, hands flying up. “I am so extremely sorry!” And then, without hesitation, he bowed so deeply his forehead smacked against the concrete with a solid thud. He didn’t even flinch.
“Who is this guy?” Kaminari whispered, flinching as he ducked halfway behind Oda. “I do not trust his enthusiasm.”
“Hey, look at their uniforms,” Jiro cut in, eyes narrowing as she took in the crisp lines and unfamiliar insignia.
“They’re from that famous school,” Sero added. “On the other side of Japan.”
“UA in the East,” Bakugo said flatly. “Shiketsu in the West.”
Of all the hero courses in the country, Shiketsu was the only one that consistently stood shoulder to shoulder with UA.
“I wanted to say it! Just once!” Inasa exclaimed, finally straightening up. “Plus Ultra! See, I really love UA High School. I am extremely honored to compete against such incredible students. I’m so looking forward to it.”
The sincerity in his voice was almost unsettling.
“Let’s go,” their teacher said curtly, clearly uninterested in prolonging the interaction. The Shiketsu students turned and walked off, their presence lingering even after they were gone.
“Inasa Yoarashi,” Mr. Aizawa muttered under his breath.
“Do you know that guy, Mr. Aizawa?” Hagakure asked.
Aizawa nodded. “Indeed. He’s strong. He’s the same year as you all and received the top scores for students admitted through recommendations. But for some unknown reason he turned down his acceptance to UA and went to Shiketsu instead.”
“Wait. He’s… our age?” Midoriya asked, eyes wide.
“You let that freak beat you?” Bakugo side-eyed Edogawa, sharp and accusing, and Oda nearly flinched at the sudden attention. They didn’t really talk in day-to-day classes.
Oda just shrugged, expression easy. “My grades are shit.”
“Hold on, is anyone else confused here?” Sero said. “This guy says that he loves our school but he turned down his chance to enroll when it was offered?”
“Yeah, what a weirdo,” Ashido agreed.
“Maybe,” Aizawa said evenly, “but he’s the real deal. Keep an eye on him.”
Another teacher from another school approached him. It was Ms. Joke, who seemed to have an odd relationship with their teacher, the kind built on mutual irritation and a long history of verbal sparring.
“So, Joke, if you’re here, then that means…” Aizawa started, already sounding tired, like he’d lost whatever energy he had the moment he saw her.
“That’s right,” Ms. Joke replied cheerfully, pivoting on her heel and throwing an arm back toward the students trailing behind her. “Over here, everyone. This is UA.” She called to the kids, voice bright and loud enough to draw attention.
The students she motioned to slowed, eyes widening as they took in Class 1A up close instead of through screens and headlines.
“Oh whoa. It really is class 1A,” said a guy with black hair, openly staring like he’d just stumbled across celebrities.
“Wow. That’s so amazing,” a blond girl added beside him, her tone full of awe. “I’ve seen them on TV before.”
Ms. Joke beamed, clearly enjoying herself. “Second years from Ketsubutsu Academy,” she introduced smoothly. “This is Class 2. They’re my students.”
The black-haired guy didn’t waste any time. He stepped forward with an easy grin and walked straight up to Midoriya, grabbing his hands without warning. “Hey, I’m Shindo! Seems like UA’s had a lotta trouble this year, musta been tough for you.”
“Uh, yeah,” Midoriya blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Before anyone could react, Shindo was already moving again, releasing Midoriya and practically teleporting over to Kaminari, grabbing his hands just as enthusiastically. “But even so, you’re all still aiming to become pro heroes despite those hardships.” He spun to Jiro next, taking her hands too. “It’s wonderful.” Then he let her go with a flourish. “Hearts full of fortitude. I believe that’s what every hero in the world needs to have.”
Kaminari looked dazed, Jiro mildly stunned, and several of the class exchanged looks that hovered somewhere between confused and wary.
“Oh, and of course, can’t forget Edogawa and Bakugo.” Shindo’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and assessing, and he nearly ran over in his eagerness. “It must’ve been hard for the two of you with that whole kidnapping incident.”
“Huh?” Bakugo glared instantly, shoulders tensing .
“It might be easier if people stopped bringing it up,” Oda muttered under his breath, gaze dropping just slightly, annoyance and discomfort bleeding through his calm exterior.
“Play nice, you two,” Kaminari warned quickly.
“You both have especially strong wills, don’t you,” Shindo continued, apparently unfazed, and he held his hand out toward Oda, palm open in a gesture that looked friendly on the surface. “Today I’m gonna do my best to learn from you. I really hope you don’t mind.”
Oda had already decided he wasn’t going to shake it, his fingers curling reflexively at his side, but Bakugo moved faster.
Bakugo smacked Shindo’s hand away from Oda with a sharp slap.
“Stop pretending,” Bakugo scoffed, red eyes narrowed and burning. “What you say doesn’t match the look in your eyes.”
“Not interested in teaching anyone,” Oda added, tone flat but edged with warning.
“Hey, you two. Don’t be so rude,” Kirishima scolded immediately, stepping in with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, they’re just like that.”
“It’s fine,” Shindo said easily, smiling as if nothing had happened at all, though his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.
“Hey. Get your costumes and head to orientation.” Mr. Aizawa ordered, cutting off the blonde girl who’d been in the middle of asking Todoroki for an autograph, his voice sharp and final in a way that brooked absolutely no argument. “There’s no time to waste.”
“Yessir!” The class let out in unison.
“It’s weird. I forget that we’re famous to other schools,” Jiro muttered as she fell into step beside Kaminari, who in turn walked just to Oda’s right, the three of them moving with the slow, steady flow of students funneling toward the designated changing areas.
“Oh yeah. We’re basically celebrities when it comes to hero course students,” Kaminari said easily, hands laced behind his head, clearly enjoying the idea a little too much.
“I don’t think that’s the flex you think it is,” Oda mumbled, eyes forward, shoulders slightly hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller despite the attention that kept drifting their way.
“What— you’re the most famous of us all,” Kaminari insisted, glancing at him like this was obvious. “Even though you got that doom and gloom look about you, and everyone sorta thought you died for a lil bit there.”
“I’m not trying to be famous. Even a little bit,” Oda sighed, the words carrying more weight than he probably intended as they approached the changing rooms, the low hum of hundreds of voices echoing off concrete walls and high ceilings.
After changing, they were herded along with the rest of the examinees, streams of colored uniforms and hero costumes converging into one massive flow. There had to be hundreds— maybe a thousand— students here, all from different schools, all radiating varying degrees of confidence, anxiety, bravado, and barely concealed fear. Most of them stuck close to their classmates, forming tight clusters.
Since one class was tested from a school per testing site, that meant dozens upon dozens of classes packed into the same place, all competing for the same limited number of passes.
They gathered in a giant room with a podium at the front. Class 1A, dressed in their costumes, ended up roughly in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by unfamiliar faces. Oda could feel eyes on him, lingering a beat too long, sliding away when he glanced back.
“Okay then.” The man at the podium microphone sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned closer to it. He sounded sleep deprived and bored in a way that felt almost painful to listen to. “Let’s do this exam thing. Uh, I’m from, uh, the Hero Public Safety Commission. Name’s Mera. My circadian rhythm is so screwed up. Ah man. I’ve been swamped lately and I haven’t gotten much rest. We’re too short staffed. I’m so tired.”
He paused, rubbing his face with one hand. “With that confession, I’ll now begin orientation.”
Maybe someone should give this guy a break, Oda thought as he glanced around the room, eyes flicking back to the podium. Mera genuinely looked like he might pass out right there, hunched over the microphone.
Still, Mera pushed on, voice droning but steady. “So, about the content of this license thing. Basically, 1,540 examinees compete in a free for all exercise or whatever we’re calling it this year.”
“Seriously? That’s not a lot of info,” Sero muttered under his breath, arms crossed.
“See, we’ve got a lot of pros around, and since Stain was arrested many people have expressed doubts about the status of heroes in society,” Mera continued, gaze sweeping lazily across the crowd. “But, when you really think about it, getting paid makes sense. If you’re going to risk your life to save someone, why shouldn’t you ask for a reward, huh? That’s just the way the world works. God, I could use a coffee.”
A few students chuckled nervously. Others shifted, listening more intently now.
Mera went on, sounding only slightly more awake. “Anyway, whether they’re in it for compensation or out of a sense of duty, we’ve got too many heroes working together in the streets these days to keep villains at bay. Honestly, the time between when an incident begins and when it’s resolved is ridiculously short.” He straightened a bit, tone sharpening. “You are all here trying to receive your provisional license so you’ll be swept up in this tiresome mess yourselves pretty soon. Those of you who don’t have the speed, frankly, just won’t make the cut. Which is why that’s what you’ll be tested on.”
The giant screen behind him flashed the number 100 in massive, unforgiving red digits, the color sharp and almost aggressive against the otherwise neutral backdrop of the room.
“The first 100 students to fulfill the requirements will pass today,” Mera announced flatly, his voice carrying through the vast space.
For a split second there was silence, the words needing a moment to sink in. Then the crowd of hero students broke into quiet, panicked murmuring, a low swell of anxiety rippling outward in every direction. Whispers overlapped whispers. People glanced at one another, at the number on the screen, at the sheer mass of bodies packed into the room.
Over fifteen hundred students.
Only one hundred passes.
Barely seven percent.
Oda felt it settle in his chest like a stone. Not fear, exactly—more like the sudden tightening of stakes.
“Well, the world can be pretty crappy,” Mera said mildly in response to the surge of whispers. “I suppose I should say something about luck. So, anyway, here are the basic rules.”
He reached down and lifted what looked like an ordinary orange tennis ball, holding it up between two fingers. Then he raised a small circular disc, flat and dull, barely larger than a coaster.
He held up the disc first. “The examinee will put three of these targets on his or her body. They can go anywhere you want as long as it’s an exposed area. So no soles of the feet or armpits.”
A few students grimaced.
“Each of you will also have six of these balls,” Mera continued, lifting the orange ball again. “The targets are programmed to light up whenever they’ve been touched by the balls. If all three targets light up, you’re out. Oh, and the person who lights up your third target will get credit for your defeat.”
Oda’s mind clicked through the math instantly. Six balls. Three targets per person. You were given just enough ammunition to technically pass—if you landed every shot cleanly and didn’t miss. Unless, of course, you were smart. If you tagged someone who already had two targets lit, you only needed to land one hit to claim a defeat.
Efficiency would win this.
Mera set the items down on the podium with a soft clack. “You get through this round by taking down two people. Got it? Good.”
Around him, men in identical suits and dark sunglasses stood up in unison, lifting heavy boxes and moving through the crowd with practiced efficiency, passing out targets and balls. The sight of them threading through the students made everything feel uncomfortably official.
“Uh, I guess we’ll start passing out the targets and balls,” Mera went on, already sounding tired again. “Then, you’ll have a few minutes to get situated after we open.”
“Open?” Oda and Todoroki repeated at the exact same time, both of them looking up sharply.
Before Mera could even answer, the answer came on its own.
With a thunderous mechanical roar, the roof above them split cleanly into four massive sections, each piece retracting outward. At the same time, all four walls dropped away, collapsing outward as if the room itself were unfolding. The floor trembled underfoot, a deep vibration that rattled teeth and made more than a few students stumble.
Gasps erupted across the crowd as sunlight suddenly poured in, blinding after the artificial lighting. Wind swept through the space, carrying the smell of earth, water, and concrete.
What had been a sealed room was now wide open.
They stood in the middle of a massive facility, easily rivaling the USJ but on an even grander scale. Different environments sprawled out in every direction, clearly segmented but seamlessly connected.
A jagged mountain zone rose to one side, sheer cliffs and uneven terrain. Beyond that stretched a wide open field. To the left, a lake glittered under the sun, complete with a cascading waterfall crashing into foaming white water. Farther out stood a dense cityscape of mock buildings, alleys, and rooftops, a bridge arcing over a chasm nearby, and an industrial factory setting bristling with pipes and metal scaffolding.
It was overwhelming.
“Yes, I know, it makes for a great reveal, doesn’t it?” Mera announced dryly. “I’m sure each of you have different terrains that you like or want to avoid. Use your quirks well and do your best. Or not. Whatever.” He rubbed his eyes. “So much sleep lost over this. Hopefully some of these kids are fast and we can get this over with. Until then, I’m gonna rest my eyes.”
“This is nuts,” Kaminari gawked, eyes blown wide as he spun slowly, trying to take in everything at once.
“Why don’t you focus on where to put your targets, yeah?” Oda shot back, his tone sharp but steady as a suited man stopped in front of him and handed him his allotted items.
Oda took the three targets and six balls without ceremony, immediately shoving the balls into his pockets. He didn’t hesitate long over placement. Pulling his costume slightly aside, he placed the targets horizontally across his stomach, just above his belt, spacing them evenly.
As he straightened, the sunlight caught the gold of his belt and the faint gleam of the marbles hidden within it, and Oda lifted his gaze to the sprawling battlefield ahead.
This was it.
Classes spread out onto the dirt opening around the room that had just unfolded, the once-contained crowd now spilling outward. Boots crunched against gravel and packed earth, costumes flashing with color as students instinctively clustered with their own schools.
“Everyone! Stay close together!” Midoriya called out, his voice cutting through the noise as he waved his arms to gather UA’s Class 1A. “We’ll fight them as a group.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Uraraka nodded immediately, sticking close as if the decision had already been made for her.
“Got it,” Iida agreed, chopping the air with one rigid arm.
Oda slowed his steps just slightly, hands buried deep in his pockets. He listened, but the longer Midoriya spoke, the more certain he became that this wasn’t going to work for him. Too many bodies.
“Yeah right.” Bakugo’s voice cracked through, completely dismissive. He didn’t even bother to look back at the group as he turned away. “This isn’t a field trip.”
He stomped off toward the open terrain without hesitation, already spoiling for a fight.
“Idiot, wait up!” Kirishima called after him, jogging forward without a second thought, boots thudding against the dirt as he chased after the blond.
Oda watched them go for half a second, then shifted his weight and turned in the opposite direction. He just started walking, quiet and deliberate, aiming for the edge of the dispersing crowd where the density of students thinned out.
He almost made it unnoticed.
“No, no, no,” Kaminari’s voice rang out behind him, bright and offended all at once. “You can’t just abandon me on the one test we get to do together.”
Oda sighed internally as Kaminari jogged up beside him, matching his pace with an exaggerated huff. “I knew Bakugo would break off,” Kaminari continued, glancing back toward where the others were still grouping up, “but how come you’re making a break for it?”
“Being in a big group will only make us bigger targets,” Oda replied calmly, eyes forward as he surveyed the terrain ahead. “Think about it. Like you said, all these people have seen us on TV. They know what we can do. A big group of UA students will be ambushed immediately.”
Kaminari blinked, then leaned in closer. “Oh, shit, yeah.”
“If we spread out,” Oda continued, voice steady and analytical, “we can stay ducked and covered until there are more chances of people being off on their own.”
“Ooooh.” Kaminari’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across it. “Smart.”
“We can’t wait too long since only the first one hundred pass,” Oda went on, glancing briefly over his shoulder before looking ahead again. “Still, if we get ambushed by a full class, there’s a chance it’s over for us before it even starts.”
He shifted his shoulders slightly, the memory of Kamino flickering through his mind, of reflex and instinct and the way his quirk had responded under pressure. “Luckily, with my quirk, they’d have to get a serious drop on me for any of my targets to get hit. And since my stamina’s improved, I can probably use that power on you too.”
Kaminari’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s awesome.” He tilted his head, curiosity flashing across his face. “Didn’t you have a hard time with that before?”
“Yeah,” Oda admitted. “But it’s been easier for me since Kamino.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the image of throwing up that gravity barrier around Bakugo came back unbidden, the way his body had just known what to do. “Plus, with your wide-range attacks, honestly, anyone who goes after us in a big group might as well be stupid, even knowing what our powers are.”
“So in other words,” Kaminari said, grinning so hard it looked like his face might crack, “we got this in the bag.” He bumped Oda lightly with his fist. “Come on, aren’t you glad I came with you? Aren’t I a hoot?”
Oda snorted softly despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Let’s not get too cocky before we pass.”
A loud, sharp beep suddenly cut through the air, echoing across the open facility. A robotic female voice followed immediately, crisp and emotionless.
“The first test will now begin.”
“Here we go.”
author’s note-
for anyone interested, i published a Bungo Stray Dogs fic on my page! the first chapter is up! the OC for that book, much like Oda, has lived in the head of me and my co-author for a while and now we finally get to write out a story for him! if you like Oda, you’ll love him too.
anyway, thanks for reading!
collab credits to: zeroraide