Chapter 41

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗
⤷ how the tables have turned.

GETTING THE POINTS they needed wasn’t hard. Once the Shiketsu student went down and his quirk released the people he’d trapped, the momentum of the fight shifted so fast it almost felt unfair. The examinees who staggered awake around them were clearly shaken, disoriented, and—more importantly—middle-tier fighters at best. 

They barely put up a struggle.

A few frantic throws of orange balls, some poorly aimed attacks that were shut down almost immediately, and then one by one the targets lit up blue. The four of them moved like they’d been doing this together for years, even though half the time they couldn’t stand each other. 

Within minutes, it was over.

“Oh, four more, one after the other.” Mera’s exhausted voice crackled over the speakers as the last target chimed blue. “That brings our total to 82.”

Kirishima let out a low whistle as they followed the marked path toward the anteroom they’d been instructed to report to once they passed. “Whoa, this entire arena’s going insane.” He craned his neck, staring out at the battlefield they were leaving behind, where explosions, flashes of light, and scattered skirmishes were still breaking out across the different zones.

“Yeah.” Kaminari grinned as they reached the entrance corridor. “Hey, look—some of our classmates.”

He pointed ahead where Midoriya, Uraraka, and Sero were walking in from another access route, their own targets glowing blue in confirmation.

“Aw, yeah! Class-A represent!” Kaminari cheered, throwing his arms up.

“Oh, you know it.” Uraraka beamed, pumping a fist while Sero waved lazily beside her. “Our class is amazing! We did it!”

Before anyone could stop them, Uraraka, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima broke into chanting, loud and unashamed, “Class 1A! Class 1A!” over and over again.

“Idiots.” Bakugo scowled, hands shoved deep in his pockets, clearly resisting the urge to yell at all of them at once.

Oda just walked with his hands in his pockets, posture loose now that the tension had finally bled out of his shoulders. “They’re just excited.”

Bakugo didn’t answer. His attention had snapped to Midoriya, who hadn’t joined in on the cheering and instead looked like a deer caught in headlights when he noticed Bakugo approaching. Midoriya stiffened, clearly bracing for impact.

“So you passed too.” Bakugo glared at him as he drew close. “How’d you manage that, Deku?”

“Kacchan—hey.” Midoriya smiled nervously, shoulders hunching as if he expected to be shouted down on the spot.

But Bakugo didn’t stop. He just walked right past.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised with that quirk you got,” Bakugo grumbled as he passed by, voice low. “It looks like,” he added without looking back, “you’ve made that borrowed power your own.”

Midoriya froze.

Oda blinked.

Borrowed power?

Oda didn’t slow as he stepped into the anteroom, the heavy doors sliding shut behind them, but he did glance back over his shoulder. Midoriya was still standing there, wide-eyed and stunned, staring after Bakugo like he’d just been hit.

What the hell did that mean?

Oda had heard the rumors. Everyone had. Midoriya Izuku, quirkless until fifteen, suddenly manifesting one. It was beyond out of the ordinary. But Oda was all too familiar with the concept of power arriving late—and forcibly. He’d lived most of his childhood quirkless too, until something had been shoved into his life and his body whether he’d wanted it or not.

The black haired boy turned forward again, expression unreadable as the noise of the anteroom swallowed them up.

The space was large, and industrial, with concrete walls and bright overhead lights that hummed faintly. Time was still ticking. The exam was still ongoing. And only a handful of them had made it through so far.

Jiro, Asui, Yaoyorozu, Shoji, and Todoroki were the only other ones from Class 1A already inside.

Oda’s eyes flicked around instinctively, counting without meaning to. That was it. Just them. Which meant that more than half of their class was still out there fighting or losing. And with only eighteen more slots open before the cap was hit, that reality settled in his chest like a dull, uncomfortable weight. 

“Oh, hey. What a relief.” Yaoyorozu said as soon as she noticed them enter, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she turned toward them. “I was starting to get so worried.”

“No reason to worry about us, Yao-momo.” Kaminari let out easily, the stress of the exam already melting off him now that they were safely inside. He slung an arm over Oda’s shoulders, leaning his weight there without asking. “What’s up? When did you guys pass? You been here long?”

“We just passed as well.” Shoji answered calmly. He gestured slightly with one arm. “Todoroki beat us.”

“I was kinda shocked Edogawa wasn’t here already.” Jiro added, tilting her head as she looked Oda over, “But I get it now, it’s because you were with him.”

“Oh, come on! Why is everyone dragging me today?” Kaminari complained immediately, straightening up and throwing his free hand in the air. “I was great help! Right Oda? Tell her.”

“Sure.” Oda sighed, not even bothering to sound convincing as he tolerated Kaminari’s arm still draped across his shoulders.

Todoroki’s mismatched eyes shifted to Oda, “What took so long?”

“Ran into a pain in the ass Shiketsu student.” Oda replied, his mouth twisting slightly as the memory resurfaced. “He wouldn’t stop talking.”

“Yeah and our Oda’s not very good at socializing so it was rough.” Kaminari added immediately, smacking Oda on the back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Oda reacted on instinct, elbowing him away hard enough to make Kaminari stumble a half step. “Why are you dragging me now?” he shot back, irritation flaring despite himself.

Kaminari clutched his side dramatically, wincing, but he was still grinning like an idiot. “Gotta keep you humble somehow.”

“You’re the one who said I was self-aware.” Oda scowled, eyes narrowing as he glanced sideways at him.

Todoroki didn’t react to the bickering at all. He simply turned slightly and nodded toward one side of the room where a small station had been set up, staff members standing behind a counter. “The key to take off your targets is over there. They told us to return them.”

Oda followed his gaze and nodded once. “Right. Got it.”

He started off without another word, shoulders finally free of Kaminari’s weight, and Kaminari, of course, followed him anyway, chattering under his breath as if nothing in the world was wrong and the exam hadn’t just narrowly filtered out hundreds of students.

Oda handed over his targets at the station, peeling the adhesive discs off his suit. The faint blue glow faded as each one was removed, leaving behind nothing but the slight impression of where they’d been stuck. The staff member behind the counter barely looked up, too busy logging numbers and checking lists, and Oda didn’t blame him. With how many examinees there were, this whole thing probably blurred together into one long, exhausting shift.

Kaminari lingered beside him, rocking back on his heels while he waited his turn, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. “Man,” he muttered, lowering his voice a little, “that was nuts. I thought for sure that flesh guy was gonna wipe us.”

“He almost did.” Oda replied flatly, watching as the staff member dropped his targets into a bin with a dull clatter. “If Bakugo hadn’t thrown that grenade—”

“Yeah, yeah, Explosion King saves the day,” Kaminari grinned, then paused, glancing back toward where Bakugo was standing across the room. “Still. You were awesome back there too, you know.”

Oda shot him a look, unimpressed, but said nothing more as they stepped away from the station. The anteroom felt louder now, more voices filtering in as time passed. Every few minutes, the doors would open and another examinee or small group would enter, some looking triumphant. Each time, Oda’s eyes flicked up automatically, scanning for familiar faces.

Ashido still hadn’t come in.

Neither had Iida.

Nor Ojiro. Nor Sato. Nor Tokoyami.

The knot in Oda’s chest tightened with every minute that passed.

He moved to stand near one of the walls, leaning back against it and crossing his arms, trying to look casual even as his thoughts spiraled. He told himself it was pointless to worry. Everyone here had made it this far for a reason. But only the first hundred mattered.

A quiet beep sounded overhead, followed by Mera’s voice again, dull and detached. “Eighty-seven. Five more have passed.”

Eighteen slots had already dropped to thirteen.

The rest of Class 1A filtered into the anteroom, all of them with the same blue glow fading from their targets as the system registered their passes. By the time the doors finally sealed and the count locked in, the screen above them confirmed what everyone had been holding their breath for.

The last nine spots.

All of them Class 1A.

Oda hadn’t realized how tightly his shoulders had been drawn up until they finally dropped, the tension bleeding out of him in a slow, exhausted exhale. He hadn’t been consciously worried, not exactly, but seeing everyone there hit him harder than he expected. There was a strange comfort in it, a quiet reassurance that none of them had been left behind, that no one had fallen so far short they couldn’t catch back up.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was just relief.

Either way, he felt it settle in his chest like something warm and steady.

It didn’t last.

“Oh right.” Mera’s voice crackled over the speakers, dragging everyone’s attention upward. “For the 100 of you who passed the first test please turn your attention to the screen.”

The low hum of conversation died almost instantly as heads tilted up in unison. The massive screen along the wall flickered, then resolved into a wide aerial view of the testing grounds they’d just been fighting through. For half a second, nothing seemed out of place.

Then the explosions hit.

Buildings in the city zone caved in on themselves, concrete and steel folding like paper. The factory collapsed in a cascade of sparks and debris. The mountains fractured, entire faces of rock giving way in thunderous landslides. Dust and smoke billowed upward, swallowing the terrain in chaos.

The room went dead silent.

“There’s only one more round to the exam.” Mera continued, his tone unchanged, like he hadn’t just shown them simulated devastation on a massive scale. “Your goal is simple: undertake rescue exercises and save the bystanders that are trapped in these disaster sites.”

“Are they serious?” Kaminari gawked, his voice cutting through the stunned quiet as he stared up at the screen.

“Use this time to show us how you will carry out successful rescue procedures once you receive your provisional licenses.” Mera went on. “Treat this as though it were the real thing.”

Oda felt his stomach twist, slow and unpleasant, like something had reached inside him and clenched. The image on the screen shifted, zooming in to show figures scattered throughout the rubble. Children huddled beneath broken beams. Elderly people slumped against shattered walls. Fake blood. Simulated injuries.

Every muscle in Oda’s body went rigid.

In other words, the part Oda wasn’t good at.

“These specialists have been trained as professional ‘persons in need of rescue’.” Mera said, almost offhandedly. “They’re very popular. Introducing the ‘Help-Us-Company’. Also known as HUC for short.”

The camera panned across a group of people waving weakly for attention, some calling out, others lying eerily still.

“So they’re basically actors, I guess.” Sero said, trying to sound casual.

“It’s the kind of job you never think about.” Asui added quietly.

“But a necessary one in our world since they support our hero training.” Ojiro finished, his tone thoughtful.

“The HUC bystanders have dressed up like injured victims and will be located throughout the disaster site.” Mera continued. “We’ll be judging how well you keep them safe as you go about your mission. Oh, by the way. We’ll be scoring you on a point system. If you have more points than the benchmark at the time the exercise comes to an end then you pass the exam. We’ll start in ten minutes. Take care of any necessary preparations now.”

The screen went dark.

The anteroom filled with noise again, but it sounded distant to Oda, muffled, like he was underwater. His eyes stayed fixed on the blank screen even after everyone else started talking, planning, arguing.

Collapsed buildings.

Smoke.

People trapped under rubble.

Kamino Ward flashed uninvited through his mind. The way the ground had shaken. The way the air had felt thick and wrong. The way everything had fallen apart so quickly it barely felt real until it was already over.

Oda swallowed hard.

He couldn’t help wondering if the exam designers had based this off that incident, or if his brain was just cruel enough to draw the connection on its own because it was the only large-scale disaster he’d ever truly experienced firsthand.

“I hate this.” Oda mumbled, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Not my favorite either.” Kirishima agreed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the floor.

Oda shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, grounding himself in the familiar motion, forcing his breathing to stay even. This wasn’t Kamino. These weren’t real victims. He knew that logically.

But his body didn’t care.

And in ten minutes, he was going to have to prove that he could save people anyway.

As they stood there waiting, a presence approached from behind that made more than a few of them stiffen instinctively. Footsteps, measured and confident, cut through the noise of the anteroom.

A group of students stopped in front of them.

“Oh hey, it’s Shiketsu.” Kirishima said, glancing up as the unfamiliar uniforms came into view.

There were four of them. One was unmistakable even at a glance—Inasa Yoarashi, the overly energetic powerhouse who somehow radiated enthusiasm even when he was standing still. 

Beside him stood a broad-shouldered boy whose most notable feature was the sheer amount of hair covering his body, thick and wild. The other two lingered slightly behind, watchful and quiet, their eyes moving over Class 1A with obvious interest.

The hairy student stepped forward first, posture straight and voice calm.

“Bakugo. Edogawa.”

Both names landed like sparks on dry ground.

“What?” Bakugo demanded immediately, irritation flaring as he turned to glare at the speaker.

“I think you met Shishikura in the test.” the boy continued evenly, unfazed. “My classmate with the flesh-molding power?”

“Sure.” Oda answered flatly, barely looking at him. “We took him out.” There wasn’t any bravado in his tone, just a bored statement of fact.

“I thought so.” the Shiketsu student nodded once. “I’m guessing he may have acted rudely or perhaps offended you. He has a tendency to try and push his own values onto others. He probably couldn’t help it in the case of you two, since you’re both pretty famous. I apologize for him. I’d like to build a good relationship between our schools.”

The silence that followed was thick and unmistakable.

Bakugo stared at him like he’d just suggested something deeply offensive. Oda’s expression didn’t change at all, his eyes half-lidded and unimpressed. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them nodded. Neither of them acknowledged the apology in any meaningful way.

It was, frankly, uncomfortable.

The Shiketsu student blinked once, then twice, clearly registering the lack of response.

“Anyway, that’s it.” he said at last, tone still polite if slightly strained, before turning on his heel.

The rest of the Shiketsu group followed without another word, their footsteps fading back into the noise of the anteroom.

Todoroki hesitated, then made a tentative attempt to speak to Inasa as he passed, but whatever exchange followed was short and awkward enough that Oda only caught fragments of it. Inasa’s expression shifted strangely, something tight and unsettled flickering across his face before he turned away completely.

Oda watched them go, brow faintly furrowed.

What was that guy’s deal?

There wasn’t time to dwell on it.

Ten minutes later, the warning bell rang overhead, sharp and echoing, snapping everyone back into focus.

Mera’s voice chimed through the facility, flat and exhausted as ever. “Villains have performed a large-scale terrorist attack spanning all of Insert-City-Name-Here. Since most buildings have collapsed there are many injured.”

Right on cue, the room itself seemed to obey the narration.

The roof above them split apart with a mechanical groan, panels retracting as light poured in. The walls didn’t just open—they fell away entirely, slamming down and vanishing as the world beyond was revealed.

“What is with these rooms?” Kaminari demanded, craning his neck as he stared up in disbelief.

“Due to heavily damaged roads, the first responders have unfortunately been delayed for the time being.” Mera continued, unbothered. “Until emergency services arrive, the heroes in the area will lead rescue efforts. Your task is to save as many people as you can and help the injured.”

The vast disaster zone stretched out before them, smoke drifting lazily upward, debris scattered in every direction.

“And with that…” Mera finished. “Begin!”

The moment the word left the speakers, hero students surged forward, breaking into sprints, leaping into action, disappearing into the ruined cityscape in all directions as the second half of the provisional exam officially began.

They had mentioned points, tossed into the explanation like an afterthought, but no one had bothered to explain how those points would actually be earned or lost. There was no rubric projected on a screen, no tidy list of do’s and don’ts. Which meant there was only one real option left to them.

Do what they had been trained to do.

Rescue people. Assess danger. Minimize harm. 

That uncertainty settled into Oda’s chest. He hated vague rules. Hated not knowing exactly what was expected of him. But at the same time, there was something grimly honest about it. Real disasters didn’t come with scorecards. No one stopped you mid-crisis to tell you whether you were doing a good enough job.

The four of them broke off together almost by accident, momentum carrying them in the same direction before anyone thought to stop it. Kaminari jogged along at Oda’s side, Kirishima slightly ahead, and Bakugo—

Bakugo was there because Bakugo always somehow was.

They headed toward the mountain zone, where jagged stone and broken cliffs rose up from the artificial ground, debris scattered like the remains of a landslide. The air felt thinner there, sharper, and noticeably quieter than the city zone they’d left behind. Oda had chosen the direction deliberately. Fewer students had gone that way, drawn instead to the collapsed buildings and visible rubble where cries for help would be more obvious.

Less competition. Fewer people getting in each other’s way.

It was the logical choice.

Bakugo, however, did not look impressed by logic.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue loudly as they climbed over fractured rock, red eyes flicking sideways toward Oda with open irritation. “You again.”

Oda didn’t even look at him. He stepped over a cracked slab of stone, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was taking a casual walk instead of navigating a disaster site. “You say that like you didn’t follow us.”

“I didn’t follow you.” Bakugo snapped immediately. “I was already heading this way.”

“Sure.” Oda replied flatly.

Kirishima glanced between them, sensing the tension immediately, but chose not to comment, instead focusing on the terrain ahead. “Mountains kinda make sense, though.” He said, trying to keep things light. “Cave-ins, rockslides, people trapped under debris. It’s risky but—”

“—but fewer idiots.” Bakugo cut in. “Which is the only good part.”

Kaminari winced. “Man, you are really committed to being unpleasant today.”

Bakugo shot him a glare that promised violence, but Kaminari, wisely, ducked behind Oda a step, peeking around him with a grin that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

Oda sighed quietly, eyes scanning the cliffside as he slowed, markings on his skin faintly glowing as his quirk stretched outward, testing the area. He could feel the weight of the stone, the strain in fractured supports, the subtle imbalance where rock had shifted but not yet fallen.

This place was dangerous.

Which meant it was exactly the kind of place people would be trapped.

“I didn’t come this way to babysit any of you.” Oda said at last, tone even but firm. “So if you’re gonna complain the whole time, Bakugo, feel free to go blow something up somewhere else.”

Bakugo bristled instantly, sparks flickering faintly at his palms. “You don’t get to tell me where to go.”

Kirishima let out a breath. “Okay. Cool. Teamwork. Love that energy.”

Kaminari leaned closer to Oda and muttered under his breath, “He’s really bad at group projects.”

Oda almost smiled, but his attention snapped forward as something shifted beneath the rock ahead of them, a low groan echoing through the mountainside.

Someone was there.

And whatever this test was really scoring, Oda had a sinking feeling it was about to matter a lot.

“Help! Someone help!” came a man’s voice, sharp with panic, echoing faintly through the broken stone.

Oda’s head snapped toward the sound immediately, his body reacting before his thoughts fully caught up. The mountains carried noise strangely, bouncing it off jagged rock faces and fractured ledges, but he could triangulate it well enough. Two voices. Close. Trapped, but not buried deep.

“My arm hurts pretty bad!” a woman called, pain layered thick into every word.

“Mine too. Save us.” the man added, his voice cracking just enough to sound convincing.

Oda shifted his weight, already preparing to move—

—and then Bakugo opened his mouth.

“Shut up! Save yourselves you whiners!”

The two injured actors flinched visibly, eyes wide as they stared up at him in stunned silence.

Oda closed his eyes for a brief, exhausted second.

“Man, you gotta work on your rescue style.” Kaminari said scathingly, incredulity dripping from every syllable as he stared at Bakugo.

“They might be really hurt—we can’t just leave ’em here.” Kirishima added quickly, his brows knitting together in genuine concern as he looked between Bakugo and the victims.

There was a pause.

Then the woman blinked, confusion overtaking her pained expression as she glanced sideways at the man next to her. “Wait.” She said slowly. “We are supposed to be low-priority victims with only minor injuries.”

The man frowned, thinking it over. “So you think… he figured it out?” he asked, tilting his head. “And that’s why he told us to go off on our own?”

“You’re kidding me.” Kaminari blinked, staring at them. “They took it in a way that made it sound okay?”

Kirishima let out a long, resigned sigh, already moving. He hopped down the rocks with practiced ease, landing near the two actors and crouching beside them, his expression immediately softening. “We’ll get you two somewhere safe.”

“Yeah.” Kaminari agreed, jumping down after him, shaking his head as he went. “Don’t worry. We got you.”

“His tone was wildly inappropriate.” the actor man added, nodding solemnly as if filing a formal report. “Minus points.”

“What the hell did you say?!” Bakugo boomed, spinning toward them, sparks snapping at his palms as his temper flared in full.

Oda rolled his eyes and turned away.

There was no salvaging this. Not with Bakugo. Not like this.

If he stayed, he’d get dragged down with him, either by association or by sheer proximity to Bakugo’s inability to pretend he cared about people who couldn’t fight back. And Oda didn’t have the luxury of losing points. Not here. Not now.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets, shoulders tightening as he activated his quirk, the familiar pressure blooming outward from his core. 

Fine.

He’d do this alone.