Chapter 6
₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎.
⤷ have you picked a team yet?
THE LIGHTS ABOVE THE GATES blazed bright against the morning sky, reflecting off the metal and concrete that framed the massive starting area. The roar of the crowd outside the arena still echoed faintly through the open air tunnels as all 220 students crowded shoulder to shoulder. Every first year student in that year was already full of nervous energy, adrenaline, and raw competition.
One light went out.
And then another.
Oda felt the shift before the final light dimmed—the subtle pull in his chest, the familiar weightless sensation that came when his quirk stirred to life. The red glow around him was faint, almost invisible under the bright lights, but it hummed beneath his skin. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
And then the final light blinked out.
“Begin!”
The sound of Midnight’s voice set off an explosion of motion.
Chaos erupted instantly. The narrow tunnel that led out onto the track became a frenzy of shoving bodies and shouted curses. Every student was fighting to get ahead, elbows flying, quirks flashing in bursts of color and light. Someone tripped. Someone else yelled. The tunnel echoed with the sound of dozens of footsteps hitting the ground all at once.
And then—suddenly—the temperature dropped.
A sharp cold swept through the air like a gust of wind before anyone could react. Ice shot out across the ground in a glittering wave, freezing feet, legs, and entire bodies in place. The floor turned slick and dangerous in seconds.
Todoroki.
Oda was faster than the ice. The second he felt it rush forward, Oda pushed his quirk outward, gravity folding around him like an invisible barrier. He lifted himself just a few inches off the ground, the freezing air licking at his shoes but never touching them. With a quick kick off the tunnel wall, he shot forward, slipping through the chaos and breaking free of the bottleneck into the open air of the track.
Outside, sunlight hit him square in the face. A few other students from Class 1-A had managed to avoid being frozen as well.
Bakugo blasted forward, explosions booming from his palms, each burst propelling him higher into the air like a human rocket. Momo used the metal rods she’d created to vault herself clear of the ice.. Aoyama’s laser beam flared bright gold as he shot himself across the frozen ground in a gleaming arc, and Kirishima simply shouted and jumped—his hardened feet smashing through the edge of the ice as he cleared the path ahead.
“Nice trick, Todoroki!” Kirishima called after him.
“I won’t let you get away so easily, you icy-hot bastard!!” Bakugo bellowed from above, the air cracking with another explosion as he tore through the sky after him.
The track ahead shimmered with frost, the sun reflecting off it in blinding flashes. Dozens of students skidded or fell, struggling to keep their footing as they chased after the leaders. Oda, still hovering a few inches above the surface, manipulated the gravity beneath his feet. Each step he took broke chunks of frozen ground loose as small pillars of earth rose up to meet his stride, keeping him balanced and steady while the ice shattered beneath him.
Everything was moving fast—until it wasn’t.
The rush of running feet slowed as the ground began to tremble beneath them. The shadow that fell across the course was massive, stretching wide across the track.
And then they saw them.
“OH! ENEMIES THAT SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE!” Present Mic’s voice roared over the stadium speakers, his tone far too excited for the situation.
The robots towered above the students—massive, armored green machines straight out of the U.A. entrance exam. Their glowing eyes scanned the crowd of young heroes, gears grinding as they began to move.
“So this is what the other students faced in the exam,” Todoroki mumbled, eyes narrowing as he assessed them.
“Not much to look at,” Oda commented under his breath, watching the nearest robot lift its arm with a metallic whine.
He’d never participated in that particular test; Ango’s government clearance had gotten him into the school through recommendation, skipping the usual gauntlet of mechanical opponents. Seeing them now, towering and armed, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity—and mild annoyance.
“Where does the school even get the funding for these things?” Momo wondered aloud. Like Oda, she had gotten in through recommendation, and this was her first real look at the massive constructs U.A. was famous for using.
Todoroki didn’t waste time with hesitation. Frost exploded from under his boot, spreading in a massive wave of pale blue that stretched out around him. “They obviously went through a lot of trouble,” he said, voice cool and detached, “but I wish they’d prepared something a little more difficult. Especially since my dear-old dad is watching.”
He swept a hand through the air, and a wall of ice surged forward, engulfing the robots in an instant. The ground shook under the weight of the frozen machines, several of them tilting off-balance as the ice bound their legs and torsos. Todoroki darted between them effortlessly, cold mist trailing in his wake.
But he hadn’t frozen them solid—not completely. It was deliberate. The ice cracked under the strain, splintering just enough for the robots to fall over in a massive, metallic chain reaction that tore through the course.
“THAT’S SHOTO TODOROKI FROM CLASS 1-A, PULLING AHEAD TO AN EARLY LEAD WITH A DEVASTATING DISPLAY!” Present Mic’s commentary echoed.
Kirishima and a student from Class 1-B were momentarily caught under the falling robots, their shouts muffled by the noise, but both of them managed to harden and punch their way free, coming out unscraped and grinning.
Bakugo was next. His explosions sent him rocketing high into the air, smoke trails swirling behind him as he soared over the tangle of collapsed robots.
Sero followed by swinging from long adhesive lines, while Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow weaved and struck at the smaller machines around them.
Oda moved after them.
His body glowed faintly red again, a shimmer of power pulsing through him as the ground beneath his feet began to crack and crumble. Then he thrusted his heel down. The chunk of earth he stood on erupted upward with a thunderous boom, launching him high into the air on a cone of debris.
The wind roared past his ears. He kept his balance effortlessly, riding the makeshift platform skyward before leaping off and letting gravity’s pull ease. He slowed his descent with his feet out in front of him, controlling the fall as if he weighed nothing at all.
He could have launched himself directly—used his full power to fling his body across the obstacle—but that kind of strain would’ve ripped through his muscles and drained his stamina. And this was only the first round.
Better to conserve. Better to think ahead.
The festival had only just begun, and Oda wasn’t about to burn himself out before he even reached the finish line.
There was a canyon obstacle just beyond that—wide, deep, and lined with suspension ropes that swayed dangerously in the wind. The drop below seemed endless, the rocky walls jagged and uneven. The roar of the crowd was distant here, replaced by the rush of wind and the echo of boots pounding against the dirt.
Todoroki reached it first. Without missing a beat, ice burst from beneath his feet. The frigid mist trailed behind him as he slid smoothly across the ropes, the thin strands crystallizing in his wake. His movements were effortless—he didn’t even glance down.
Bakugo came in next, explosions propelling him forward in deafening bursts. His palms flared with light as he soared over the canyon, each blast echoing through the chasm below. He gritted his teeth as sparks flew off his hands, the heat from his explosions melting the frost Todoroki had left behind.
Oda didn’t hesitate either. The ground beneath him cracked once, twice—then a chunk of earth under his feet ripped free from the cliffside with a deep, grinding sound. His balance steady as gravity folded to his will.
He floated across the canyon easily, controlling his flight with precise movements of his feet. The wind tore through his hair as the hovering rock glided over the ropes and debris below. His eyes stayed sharp, focused on the stretch of terrain ahead.
“Hey! I think you guys are forgetting to struggle!” Sero’s voice called from somewhere far behind them, half a laugh and half a wheeze of exertion.
Oda barely heard him. His attention snapped forward as a bright flash caught the edge of his vision.
A split second later, a blast exploded in his face.
He raised his arms instinctively, the red glow flaring bright around him as the shockwave hit. Dust and heat tore through the air. When it cleared, Bakugo was next to him, sneering.
“Out of my way, short-stack!” Bakugo barked, blasting past him in a violent burst of flame and sound.
“Could say the same to you!” Oda shot back, his tone cool but his eyes sharp. The gravitational field around him pulsed outward in a ripple of energy, distorting the air for a brief second. Bakugo was caught in it mid-flight, the sudden shift of gravity throwing him off balance. He cursed loudly as he spun sideways, barely correcting himself.
The minefield came next.
The terrain stretched out flat for several hundred meters, deceptively calm—until the first step set off a blast of pink smoke and sparks. The ground was littered with buried landmines, each one triggering a harmless but powerful explosion if touched. The pink bursts went off in quick succession as the first few students hit them, their shouts echoing through the field.
Todoroki was the first to reach it, his ice spreading out under his feet again to form a makeshift path. Each step froze the ground just enough to keep the mines inactive. Bakugo, still fuming, swooped low behind him, blasting the air to propel himself forward, his explosions setting off a few detonations in his wake. The field lit up with bright pink fireballs as the two of them clashed for first place.
Oda followed close behind, floating a few inches above the ground. He moved cautiously, his gaze scanning the uneven dirt for pressure triggers. His hovering kept him safe from most of the traps, but the sheer number of blasts from Bakugo and Todoroki made the air turbulent and unstable. He kept his energy tight around his body, conserving power while staying clear of the worst of the detonations.
For several moments, it was steady chaos—Bakugo’s explosions, Todoroki’s ice, Oda’s red glow cutting through the haze of pink smoke. He’d settled solidly in third place, his breathing steady, his body tense but controlled.
Then came the explosion.
It wasn’t the small, controlled kind that dotted the minefield—it was massive, violent, and bright enough to turn the world white for an instant.
An enormous pink shockwave ripped through the air behind them. The ground buckled under the force, setting off several more mines in a chain reaction. Dust and smoke exploded outward in a ring, knocking students off their feet and sending some tumbling through the air.
Oda spun mid-flight, squinting through the haze as he steadied himself. The next moment, something came flying out of the smoke.
And not just something—someone.
Izuku Midoriya shot through the air like a projectile, gripping a chunk of scrap metal from one of the earlier robots. The jagged piece gleamed as the momentum carried him over the field, wind tearing at his uniform as he rocketed past the others.
“What the shit?” Oda muttered, the words slipping out under his breath as the green-haired boy soared over his head.
Midoriya’s timing was perfect. He flew right over Todoroki and Bakugo, twisting midair. The piece of metal slammed down hard onto the landmines below, triggering a massive chain explosion directly beneath their feet.
The blast sent the three of them—Bakugo, Todoroki, and Oda—flying backward in a cloud of dust and pink fire. The ground cracked, air roaring around them as several more mines went off from the impact of their falls.
The shockwave launched Midoriya even farther ahead, his improvised board spinning beneath him as he crashed through the final stretch of the course. The stadium roared as he sprinted the last few meters, debris still raining behind him.
Bakugo blasted back into the air immediately, his frustration fueling every explosion. Todoroki recovered with icy precision, skating on frost that reformed beneath his feet. Oda steadied himself mid-fall, summoning a chunk of debris to hover on as he shot forward in pursuit.
But it didn’t matter.
Midoriya burst into the stadium first, the crowd losing their minds as the screen above the arena lit up with the results.
1. Midoriya
2. Todoroki
3. Bakugo
4. Edogawa
5. Shiozaki
Oda floated to a stop just outside the finish line, stumbling off his chunk of rock as the noise of the crowd swelled around him. The pink smoke still lingered faintly in the air, and the smell of burnt dust and ozone clung to his uniform. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the green-haired boy now celebrating in the middle of the field.
A handy trick. Oda was pretty sure Midoriya hadn’t used his quirk once in the first event. While everyone else was busy depending on them, Midoriya had passed with only his brain and guts and it was honestly impressive to watch. Oda wasn’t even mad he’d been knocked out of third place.
They were directed forward one by one as they entered the arena, breaths still heavy from the race, clothes dusted with gravel and bits of pink smoke residue. Midoriya was still blinking in disbelief near the front when a staff member guided him toward Midnight’s stage, and the rest of the top finishers followed suit. Oda drifted into place near the edge, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The crowd buzzed with excitement while dozens of students behind the top group began to slump as it became clear which ranks didn’t make the cut. After several agonizing moments, the staff halted the procession.
Only forty-two remained.
The rest—178 deflated, frustrated, or outright sobbing first-years—were gently ushered away from the field. Some left with annoyed mutters, others groaned dramatically, and a few simply trudged toward the tunnels like soldiers marching to their demise.
“Only the top 42 will advance to the next round. But don’t be too let down if you didn’t make the cut…” Midnight leaned on her whip with theatrical flair, her voice rising with honey-coated enthusiasm, “we’ve prepared other opportunities for you to shine. Now the real fun is about to begin.”
A ripple of tension passed through the gathered students. Forty-two pairs of eyes—some sharp, some terrified—focused on the stage. Midnight grinned like a cat who’d cornered forty-two very edible mice.
“The chance to fully put yourself in the limelight. Give it your best and prepare yourself…”
The towering display behind her spun again, sections flickering through possible games before slowing, clicking… clicking… and landing.
Calvary Battle.
The word gleamed across the screen.
“Calvary battle?” Kaminari deadpanned. “I’m terrible at those.”
“It’s not an individual event,” Tsuyu noted, tapping her chin. “I wonder how they’ll split us up.”
Midnight’s whip cracked lightly against the stage. “Allow me to explain!”
The crowd leaned in. Students perked up or stiffened. Oda only tilted his head slightly, unreadable.
“Participants will create teams of two to four as they see fit. In theory, it’s basically the same as a regular playground game. But there is one difference.” Midnight continued, eyes sparkling. “Each player has been assigned a point value based on the results from the obstacle course. Point assignments go up by increments of five, starting from the bottom.”
A few murmurs went up as students mentally calculated their worth.
“And, by the way—” She paused dramatically, whipping the display behind her. “The point value assigned to the first-place winner is… TEN MILLION!”
Gasps ripped through the forty-two students. Someone choked on saliva. Someone else swore audibly.
And just like that, Midnight casually spun the entire arena—and every student in it—against Izuku Midoriya.
Midoriya visibly shrank in real time.
“That’s right!” Midnight chimed cheerfully. “It’s survival of the fittest with a chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top! Those at the top will suffer the most. Show us what Plus Ultra means! Izuku Midoriya placed first in the qualifier. He’ll be worth ten million.”
Izuku squeaked like a dying hamster. Bakugo looked like Christmas had come early. Todoroki stared blankly, processing ways to freeze Midoriya without incurring a penalty. Oda suppressed a snort, shifting his weight with a subtle roll of his eyes.
Midnight continued, pacing the stage like a ringmaster.
“And now, here are the rules that you’ll abide by! The game will last fifteen minutes. The team’s point value will be added into one total. Everyone will know how much you’re worth thanks to your headbands.”
She gestured at the screen, which flashed images of white headbands with red point values stamped across them.
“Swipe as many headbands as you can to raise your team’s score. Stolen headbands must be worn from the neck up.“
More murmurs. A few nods.
“And another thing,” Midnight added, tone dipping into something more playful. “Even if your headband gets stolen or your team falls down, you can keep playing until time’s up.”
“So it’s anyone’s game then,” Momo said thoughtfully.
“Yeah, and since there are forty-two contestants, there’ll be ten or twelve teams fighting on the field the entire time,” Sato reasoned.
“Sounds hard…” Aoyama muttered, clutching his chest like he might faint under the mere idea.
“So if you lose your headband at the beginning,” Mina added brightly, “you have more time to make up a plan.”
“This is going to be rough,” Midnight announced gleefully. “You may use your quirks as much as you like! But there are still rules. Make a team fall on purpose, and I’ll slap you with a red card. You’ll be disqualified.“
A fifteen-minute countdown appeared behind her, ticking down.
“Now,” Midnight said, grinning wickedly, “you have fifteen minutes to build your teams. I recommend you get started.”
The tension snapped like a wire.
And the scramble began.
It was instant pandemonium. Students scattered like startled pigeons, forming alliances, begging classmates, shouting strategies over one another. Some groups assembled smoothly, others fell apart three times before forming again. It was loud, frantic, and nothing like the calm, strategic planning Midnight probably envisioned.
Oda stood still through all of it.
Kids swarmed to kids—some based on friendship, others on raw pragmatism—but Oda wasn’t really part of any established circle. Kaminari, Jiro, Sero, Mina and the others all shot glances his way, but no one immediately approached. He wasn’t unfriendly, but he kept himself closed off, and now that distance felt like a physical barrier between him and everyone scrambling around the arena.
Meanwhile, Todoroki gathered a team with quiet efficiency and Midoriya stumbled backward into a group forming around him. Others paired off, then split off again, chaos shifting with every new idea shouted across the field.
Oda was scanning the crowd, trying to figure out who would even want him—and who he could rely on—when a voice cut through the noise.
“Ey. Short-stack.”
Oda blinked slowly.
He turned, already annoyed, and found himself face-to-face with Katsuki Bakugo. The ash-blonde’s scowl was sharp enough to cut steel. At his shoulder stood Kirishima, who waved cheerfully.
“He’s got a name, Bakugo,” Kirishima whispered—not quietly enough.
But there was more. A whole crowd hovered behind Bakugo: Mina, Sero, Aoyama, Sato, Shouji, and Hagakure—all looking hopeful, nervous, or both. They clearly wanted to be on Bakugo’s team but the explosive boy wasn’t even making eye contact with them.
His attention was fixed on Oda.
“Have you picked a team yet?” Bakugo asked, voice overly aggressive for no reason at all.
Oda shook his head. “No.”
“Then you should totally team up with us!” Kirishima declared, grinning brightly. “We were a great team at the USJ, remember?”
“I—um, yeah, I guess so.” Oda said carefully, eyes flicking to Bakugo whose stare felt like a physical force. The guy looked like he was evaluating him the same way someone evaluates the durability of a grenade.
“Sweet!”
“Come on,” Sato groaned from behind Bakugo, “He’s not even strong enough to carry you—look at him.”
Oda’s expression darkened instantly.
“You wanna bet?” he deadpanned.
He absolutely could take most of the class in raw strength despite his smaller frame; his body had been engineered to withstand gravitational shifts. If Sato wanted an arm-wrestling match, Oda would flatten him in under ten seconds.
“You want someone strong on your team,” one of Shouji’s arms added, as blunt as always.
But Bakugo held up a hand, silencing everyone. His eyes locked onto Oda with razor-sharp focus.
“What all can that quirk of yours do? Can you use it on other people?”
“Yeah,” Oda replied simply.
“Like force fields and shit?”
“It’s not a force field, it’s a gravity barrier,” Oda corrected, tone flat. “And that depends on what you want me to do with it. I’m good at shielding people as long as I’m touching them. It’s not as safe without physical contact because if I increase density too much, it can crush them. I know my own limits, not theirs.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Can you grab people with it? Like that villain at the USJ.”
“Sure. As long as they’re in range.” Oda shrugged. “But we’re not allowed to purposely knock down other teams. And it’s not precise enough for me to be grabbing headbands.”
Bakugo mulled that over for all of one second before saying, “Doesn’t matter. It’ll work.”
“Oh yeah!” Kirishima cheered, pumping a fist. He slung an arm over Oda’s shoulder like they were old friends. “Edogawa’s in!”
Oda stiffened immediately at the contact, shoulders rising defensively. Physical closeness always made him tense—especially when he wasn’t expecting it.
Bakugo turned back to the crowd hovering behind him.
“We just need one more.”
That caused chaos again. Voices erupted all at once as everyone behind him tried to pitch themselves, leaning forward or stretching arms up like Kindergarteners wanting to be picked for dodgeball.
In the end, Bakugo made the call with characteristic bluntness.
He chose Mina.
Out of everyone begging for a spot, Mina Ashido was the most useful. Her acid could dissolve glue, bindings, restraints, and traps—exactly what they might run into when teams tried to immobilize them. If someone stuck them to the ground or trapped their legs together, Mina could melt them free in seconds.
The rest of the hopefuls groaned dramatically as Bakugo waved them off with a scowl.
Team Bakugo was formed.
author’s note-
figured i’d just post chapters for the like three people actually reading this one. i have way too many chapters of this thing written, might as well start updating.