Chapter 40
₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄
⤷ a pretty predictable fighter
THE PROVISIONAL EXAM was in full swing. The ladder rattled faintly beneath them as they climbed, metal vibrating with every careful shift of weight. It ran up the side of one of the massive support pillars that held the bridge aloft, bolted into concrete that disappeared into the churning artificial river below. The air grew cooler the higher they went, wind cutting across the open space and tugging at Oda’s clothes as he climbed ahead of Kaminari.
By the time Oda reached the top, the noise of the exam had changed. It wasn’t the frantic, overlapping chaos from the opening minutes anymore. It was more spaced out now. The distant electronic beeps signaling examinees passing cut through the air every so often, not frequent, but frequent enough to be unsettling. Each one was a reminder that time was slipping through their fingers whether they acted or not.
Oda swung one leg over the edge of the bridge and paused.
Voices.
His body stilled instantly and without turning around, he lifted one hand and made a sharp, subtle gesture downward, a silent warning to Kaminari below him on the ladder. With the other hand, he slipped an orange ball free from his belt, rolling it once between his fingers as he listened, breath shallow, shoulders tense.
Then he pulled himself the rest of the way up.
“Goddamnit.” Oda scowled as he got to the top, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
“What? What is it?” Kaminari called up, his voice echoing slightly against the pillar.
Oda straightened slowly, eyes already locked forward as red eyes glared him down from across the bridge. “Bakugo.” He stepped fully onto the bridge surface, boots scraping softly against concrete.
“What?” Kaminari’s voice jumped an octave as he scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder, nearly tripping over the last rung as he popped into view.
The bridge stretched wide and open around them, empty lanes running off into the distance, the city zone visible behind one end and the industrial sprawl looming beyond the other.
Standing near the center were Kirishima and Bakugo, both tense, both clearly expecting enemies rather than classmates. Bakugo looked especially irritated, hands flexing as if he’d been itching for a fight and had just been denied one.
“Huh? That the hell are you idiots doing here?!” Bakugo demanded, jabbing a hand in their direction.
“Same as you, avoiding the big groups.” Oda shot back without missing a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Oh hey, they got the same strategy as us.” Kirishima grinned, the tension barely touching him. “We should team up.”
“Heck yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed immediately, enthusiasm bubbling up.
At the exact same moment, Bakugo snarled, “Go die.”
And Oda said flatly, “Absolutely not.”
Kirishima’s smile faltered as he looked between them, shoulders sagging just a little. “Come on, you two. Isn’t this whole Sports Festival rivalry thing getting a little old? You’re just doing what all the other schools are expecting you to. Think about it. There’s no way they’ll expect you guys to work together.”
“And we’re not gonna.” Oda decided, already turning away. “I’m out of here.”
“Oda!” Kaminari called after him, “Wait, come back.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Run off you little—” Bakugo started, anger flaring sharp and familiar.
“Look out!”
Kirishima moved before anyone else could even fully register the danger. He lunged forward, throwing his weight into Bakugo and knocking him sideways just as a floating, writhing mass of flesh slammed into him instead. The impact was wet and heavy, an awful, unnatural sound that made Oda’s stomach twist as Kirishima was lifted clean off his feet.
“Kirishima!” Kaminari shouted, horror snapping through his voice.
“Damnit.” Kirishima’s voice came out muffled and distorted from somewhere inside the mass. “What’s going on?”
The redhead’s body contorted midair, his limbs folding inward. In seconds, he collapsed into a misshapen, potato-like mass of flesh.
The transformed Kirishima landed in the outstretched hand of one of the Shiketsu students from earlier. The stupid hat made him instantly recognizable. Around him, scattered across the bridge, were more masses just like Kirishima’s—former students reduced to unrecognizable shapes, twitching faintly against the concrete.
This guy hadn’t just caught one person.
“What the crap?” Kaminari gawked, eyes wide as he stared at the misshapen mass that had once been Kirishima. “Did that really just happen?”
“All I know is, that bastard looks like he’s to blame.” Bakugo sneered, teeth bared as he took an aggressive step forward, shoulders squared. “So, I’ll kill him.”
“Bit extreme.” Oda mumbled, though his eyes never left the Shiketsu student.
The speakers crackled overhead, and Mera’s exhausted voice spilled out across the facility, flat and detached as ever. “More examinees have passed. We’re at 60 people now. That means there are 40 spots left.”
The exam clock was no longer an abstract pressure—it was closing in fast, each passing second another opportunity lost.
“We’re running out of time.” Kaminari warned, anxiety bleeding into his tone as he glanced from Bakugo to Oda and back again.
“We really don’t have time to waste on this guy.” Oda agreed quietly. His jaw tightened as he looked at where Kirishima was, “Unfortunately he’s got our classmate.”
In another situation, Oda would have walked away without hesitation, prioritized himself. But Kamino lingered in his mind. Kirishima and Todoroki had been the ones to spear the rescue of him and Bakugo, so leaving now would feel like a real shit move.
“I’m from Shiketsu.” The guy holding Kirishima suddenly announced, voice ringing with performative confidence. He adjusted the brim of his stupid hat. “Please notice, my school keeps our hats on when we’re working. Why’s that? Because… Each and every one of our movements is crowned by the legacy and the honor of our school.”
He dropped the Kirishima flesh-mass to the ground with careless disregard, like discarding an object rather than a person.
“This is a demonstration,” the jackass went on, arms spreading wide as if addressing an audience. “Proof in the difference in level between my peers and your vulgar class. We value obligation and dignity—things that appear to be sorely lacking among you.”
Bakugo’s expression didn’t change much, but the air around him sharpened, hostility coiling tight. “I really hate your type.” He sneered, voice dripping with contempt.
“He’s hard to follow.” Kaminari let out. “Makes me feel kinda dumb.”
“He said his beady eyes are full of tears so he can’t see how strong his opponents are.” Bakugo translated.
“My eyes are dry and handsome, thank you!” The Shiketsu student snapped back immediately, his composure cracking just enough to show irritation.
“Handsome?” Oda scowled, unimpressed.
“Hey you two. Maybe don’t provoke this guy?” Kaminari flinched, hands half-raised as if to physically separate them from the situation. “Look what he did to Kirishima.”
“Tch.” Bakugo clicked his tongue, but his stance didn’t relax even a fraction.
“UA High.” The Shiketsu student went on. “I have respect for your school. I take pride in the fact that our institutions are treated as equals. But your class is shameful. You act in ways that disgrace heroes.”
As he spoke, his hands remained behind his back. Then, without warning, the air behind him distorted. Flesh shifted and stretched, bubbling outward in slow, nauseating motion as giant fingers formed behind him and over his head.
“He’s attacking again.” Kaminari warned, taking an instinctive step back, “I don’t wanna be gross!”
“Shut up.” Bakugo snapped, already bristling, his focus snapping sharply back to the Shiketsu student. “‘Obligation’? ‘Dignity’? You just like to hear yourself talk. I don’t see any proof. Show us with your actions, not your cheap words. If you can.”
“Beast.” The fingers around the Shiketsu student pulled back before surging forward, the motion violent and sudden, air tearing as the flesh launched itself across the bridge. “You’re the worst of all, Bakugo!”
Bakugo didn’t flinch.
“AP Shot.” He raised one hand and cupped the other like the barrel of a gun. “Auto Cannon!”
The explosions came in rapid succession, sharp, concussive bursts that cracked through the air like gunfire. Each blast was controlled and compact, slamming into the oncoming masses of flesh and shredding them midair.
The Shiketsu student recoiled, his expression twisting in frustration and disbelief.
“I had to make a weak version so I didn’t kill anyone.” Bakugo said proudly.
“You know what? This is why everyone’s terrified of you— you’re way too hardcore.” Kaminari decided, his nerves getting the better of him as he instinctively grabbed Oda and shoved him a half-step forward, using him as an unintentional shield.
Oda barely reacted, eyes locked on the battlefield as the shredded flesh began to twitch and drift back toward their owner, reassembling to the Shiketsu student.
“Those nasty finger things just float right back to him.” Oda observed.
“I see now.” The Shiketsu student said, his tone lowering as the flesh peeled away from his arms, breaking off and swirling around him. “I’ll teach you a lesson by breaking you.” The mass thickened as it gathered. “This will show you what it means to be dignified and behave like a hero.”
“What is up with this disgusting dude?” Kaminari asked, genuine confusion layered over his revulsion.
“He thinks he’s better than us.” Bakugo replied, a sharp grin pulling at his mouth, excitement sparking in his eyes as the challenge escalated.
“Gonna be hard to be a well liked hero with a gross looking quirk and a shit attitude.” Oda prodded.
“Yeah and I bet he’ll shut up when I show him how useless it is.” And then the explosion boy charged forward.
Bakugo launched himself across the bridge, boots slamming into concrete as heat flared around his palms, momentum carrying him straight into the fight.
“Hey wait! Don’t forget that we’re in the middle of a test!” Kaminari called after him, panic rising as he watched Bakugo close the distance.
“That’s exactly why I’ll kill the guy!”
“Absurd!” the Shiketsu guy barked, his voice echoing off the metal beams of the bridge as the mass of flesh behind him surged forward all at once, the giant fingers stretching, splitting, multiplying as they whipped through the air.
Bakugo reacted instantly, boots skidding across the concrete as he fired off more AP Shots in rapid succession, the sharp concussive blasts tearing chunks out of the incoming flesh. Smoke, heat, and the sickening sound of impact filled the space between them, but even as pieces were blown apart, they did not fall uselessly. They twisted, writhing, crawling back toward their source.
Meanwhile, the fragments that slipped past Bakugo’s barrage veered sharply toward Oda and Kaminari. Oda felt it before he fully processed it, that instinctive tightening in his chest as danger locked onto him. His quirk flared to life in a hot, familiar rush, red light snapping around his body as invisible pressure flooded the space in front of him.
The flesh masses slammed forward—and stopped.
They hung there in midair, suspended unnaturally, each one frozen as if embedded in thick red glass. Oda’s breath caught despite himself. He hadn’t been sure it would work. He hadn’t known if these things counted as solid matter, if they’d slip through. But they didn’t. His gravity barrier held, compressing the space around the grotesque shapes, keeping them pinned in place.
Oda swallowed hard. He’d been training for this, learning to stop or redirect smaller objects without direct contact. The masses expanded and strained against the invisible force, each one roughly the size of a human head, pulsing as if alive, but they stayed where he put them.
“Ugh. Let’s just get this fight over with.” Kaminari said as he snapped two discs into his directional gun. He raised his arm and fired.
Both shots missed.
They streaked past the Shiketsu student and slammed uselessly into the metal framework behind him.
“You should work on your aim.” the Shiketsu student said coolly, barely glancing back.
“Aw—crap!” Kaminari yelped, shoulders tensing.
“And your look.” the Shiketsu student added, his mouth curling into a smug sneer. “Maybe I can make you something more appealing.”
“Enough talk!” Bakugo snapped, rage flaring as he leapt forward again. “Die!” He unleashed a larger AP Shot straight at the student’s face, the explosion roaring loud enough to rattle the bridge.
But the Shiketsu student reacted instantly, flesh surging up and around his head in a thick, protective mass that absorbed the blast. The impact scattered chunks outward, but none of it reached him.
“Bakugo—” Oda started to warn.
Too late.
“You’ve left yourself open.” the Shiketsu student said calmly as the flesh shielding him parted, revealing his eyes locked onto Bakugo.
“What the—?” Bakugo managed before something yanked him backward.
A thick piece of flesh erupted from behind, wrapping around Bakugo’s shoulders and upper torso, locking his arms to his sides before he could fire another blast.
“You weren’t paying attention.” the Shiketsu student continued, his tone almost instructional. “I had a piece of flesh sneak beneath us. You saw. Earlier with Kirishima. Once I touch you, you’re my play thing.”
The flesh began to compress.
Bakugo snarled, struggling violently as his body started to fold inward, the pressure crushing him down, his form shrinking grotesquely as the mass enveloped him.
“Shit.” Oda breathed, instinctively moving forward as he watched Bakugo’s silhouette distort, disappear.
“Hey. Short-stack.” Bakugo strangled out as his head vanished into the mass, his voice muffled but still sharp with command. “Fix this.”
Something flew out from the writhing flesh at the last second.
Oda reacted without thinking, his hand snapping up as the object dropped neatly into his palm. His fingers closed around cold metal.
A grenade.
Oda’s eyes widened as Bakugo was fully condensed, the flesh collapsing inward until all that remained was a compact, misshapen lump on the bridge, barely recognizable as human.
“Pathetic.” the Shiketsu student sneered, looking down at the result with open disdain. “You must be remade from scratch.”
“No way.” Kaminari whispered, backing away slowly,
“This is a demonstration.” the guy went right back to monologuing, “The test had an unusually low passing rate. At first this seemed counterintuitive given our current world. With All Might retired, wouldn’t it make more sense to flood the streets with heroes? And so, I must assume that their goal is to weed out the riffraff. We can surmise that they’re starting to be more selective in order to bring the profession of hero to a higher level.”
“What are you, a crazy person?” Kaminari asked, voice cracking just a little as he stared between the flesh-potato shapes on the ground and the man preaching over them.
“I’m simply separating the mediocre and the extraordinary.” The Shiketsu student slammed a foot down on the compacted mass that had once been Kirishima. “By the way, your comrades here still feel pain in this form.”
His gaze slid toward Kaminari, sharp and deliberate. “Your untamed electricity will torture your friends if you use it. Of course, I’ll have a hard time against you, Edogawa. Your ability to stop anything with mass is quite the pain. And still, with a power like that, you manage to bring shame on your school. Pathetic.”
Oda felt something cold settle in his chest at that, the last thread of restraint snapping cleanly.
He agreed with Bakugo on one thing at least: he might have to kill this guy. His fingers tightened around the grenade in one hand. With his other hand, he spread the gold-tinted metal marbles between his fingers.
Behind him, Kaminari let out a long, exaggerated sigh, shoulders slumping in irritation. “Ugh. You’ve been doing nothing but hurling insults at us this entire time.”
“Not hard to take it personally.” Oda muttered, eyes never leaving their opponent.
“Then perhaps you are more self-aware than I thought.” The Shiketsu student gathered flesh around himself again, the mass swelling, reshaping, preparing to strike. “I’d take time to reflect on your failure.”
“Just shut up already.” Oda snapped.
His quirk flared violently, red light pulsing along the markings on his skin as he moved. He hurled the grenade and the marbles at the same time, each object snapping forward with terrifying precision. The marbles split in the air, veering along controlled trajectories, smashing through incoming masses of flesh before they could reach him or Kaminari, tearing holes straight through the grotesque constructs.
The grenade arced wide, thrown deliberately to the Shiketsu student’s left. The guy shifted right without thinking—straight toward the metal markers Kaminari had fired earlier and embedded into the structure behind him.
“An explosion? But I stopped Bakugo?” the Shiketsu student gawked, eyes widening as realization hit too late.
“Those gauntlets have a purpose, you know.” Oda said coolly, sidestepping a writhing chunk of flesh on the ground without even looking down. “He can use that gear along with his nitro sweat to create simple grenades.”
“That’s it. He tossed it to you.”
“And by the way, big mouth,” Oda added, a sharp, almost lazy smirk tugging at his lips, mostly to himself, “thanks for being a pretty predictable fighter. Kaminari, hit him.”
“On it.” Kaminari lifted his arm, pointing his finger like a gun as his quirk hummed to life.
Electricity surged outward in a controlled blast, snapping cleanly to the embedded markers, the current bending exactly where it was meant to go, avoiding the trapped students entirely.
The Shiketsu student screamed as the electricity tore through him, his body locking up as he collapsed forward, flesh sloughing uselessly away as he dropped to his knees.
Before, Bakugo had been using his new, smaller ranged move to stop the attacks, not because he was testing it out or showing off, but because he had been consciously avoiding hitting Kirishima while they were trapped. Bakugo had actually been thinking about the people around him, about positioning and collateral damage, about how Oda wouldn’t be hurt by a large explosion but everyone else absolutely would.
For someone who prided himself on being brutally straightforward, Bakugo had been doing a hell of a lot of quiet calculation.
“You might think you know everything, but basing your opinions of people on a TV event that happened months ago is honestly a pretty stupid move.” Oda scoffed, his voice sharp and controlled as the last of the Shiketsu student’s smug composure cracked. “If anything, you should have predicted that we’d have grown more. You wanna come at us for an inflated sense of pride and yet that’s how you strategize? Gimme a break.”
Oda stepped forward, boots scraping against the bridge surface, the red glow of his quirk still faintly radiating as he closed the distance.
“Yeah, Oda’s the most self-aware person on the planet,” Kaminari added, voice loud and earnest as the grotesque flesh-balls that had once been Bakugo and Kirishima began to shudder and unravel, limbs reforming, bones snapping back into place with sickening pops. “And as far as battle IQ goes, he and Bakugo are some of the best out here.”
Kaminari glanced between the two of them as Kirishima groaned and pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders like he’d just woken from a nightmare.
“They can be real jerks sometimes,” Kaminari stated, “but no one’s trying harder than they are.”
“I’ll teach you to be more aware of your place, you degenerates!” the Shiketsu student roared, staggering upright despite the electricity still crackling across his body. Flesh surged again, coiling and swelling as he prepared another attack, desperation replacing arrogance.
He never got the chance.
An explosion detonated directly in his face, the blast sharp and precise, not wild or unfocused. The force threw him backward, his monologue cut off mid-snarl.
Before he could even hit the ground, a foot glowing red slammed into his gut, gravity-enhanced and merciless. The impact launched him across the bridge. He struck the ground hard and didn’t move again, consciousness leaving him the instant he landed.
“The more damage he takes, the more people get released,” Kirishima said, flexing his hands as full control returned to his body, voice still rough but steady.
“No wonder he was only using long-distance attacks,” Bakugo added, clicking his tongue as he straightened, smoke curling faintly from his palms.
Kirishima grinned broadly, wiping sweat from his brow. “Thanks for the save, you two.”
“You idiots. What took so long?” Bakugo demanded, scowling even as relief flickered behind his eyes.
“Why are you so mean?” Kaminari shot back immediately, throwing his hands up. “No one’s ever gonna like you if you act that way!” He paused mid-rant, eyes widening as he looked past them. “Whoa, look behind you.”
“The others are waking up.” Oda said, turning to see other hero course students in various costumes stirring, groaning, and pushing themselves to their feet across the bridge and nearby platforms, confusion etched into their faces as they realized what had happened.
Bakugo’s grin was sharp and feral as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.
“We’ve got targets.”