5

“Coming in!”

The boys of class A turned to see the sliding screen of their large room smack open, as if a rival gang had come to throw down.

“Well, look who it is,” said Eijiro Kirishima with a grin, as the class B boys stepped into the room, fresh from their session in the rotenburo. Only a small table separated the two factions. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu led class B forward and roared, “We’ve kept you waiting, but this is going down now!”

Nobody was here to make friends. The smiles on these boys’ faces were aggressive. Competitive. Some didn’t relish the thought of battle, though not one among them could be called timid or weakhearted. Because everyone in that room knew that classes A and B were fated to clash.

Men are thought to be creatures that instinctively seek out battle, so a gathering of men such as this could end only one way. A fight without reason or conviction would be mindless violence—but these boys certainly had a reason.

It had begun a few hours earlier.

A day of brutal Quirk training had pushed the U.A. Hero Course students to the breaking point, and then some. When a body is forced to go beyond its natural limits, it instinctively seeks rest and nourishment. The nutrients and comfort promised by their dinner represented the light at the end of this gauntlet of a tunnel, so at the massive wooden tables just in front of the lodge, the students practically inhaled the Japanese-style curry they’d cooked for themselves.

“Tomorrow night, we’re having nikujaga stew,” declared Mandalay.

Meat, potatoes, and vegetables, stewed in a soy sauce base with a bit of sugar—the dish was a staple of Japanese comfort food. Even with bellies already full of curry, the boys in particular couldn’t help but get excited for the next day’s nikujaga dinner. Mandalay went on.

“We’ve got both beef and pork available, so you kids decide which class gets which.”

This stirred the pot.

“Nikujaga’s obviously gotta have pork, right?”

“Um, no. Beef.”

Pork was traditional in eastern Japan, while the western parts of the country favored beef. Even then, it could vary from household to household, regardless of region. Seeing this sudden split of opinion, Tenya Ida stood up and begun to flap his hands wildly.

“We had better make up our minds! Wouldn’t you agree, Kendo?”

“Sure thing. How about a round of rock-paper-scissors? Winning side gets first pick?” suggested Itsuka Kendo, standing to meet Ida’s challenge.

“No objections? In that case…”

“Now, now, wait a minute!” said Neito Monoma of class B, just as the two class presidents were about to throw hands. “A silly game? To decide something so important? No fun. Why not a more worthy battle?”

“What’s wrong with rock-paper-scissors?” asked Kendo.

Monoma snorted. “I expected more from you, Kendo. This is a rare chance to go head-to-head with our mortal enemies in class A. What a waste, to do so with a trifling match of rock-paper-scissors.”

“Like I’m always saying, there’re no ‘mortal enemies’ here.”

All eyes were now on Monoma, with all thoughts on his absurd grudge against class A.

“Pork? Beef? Does anyone actually care?” asked Reiko Yanagi.

“Mhm, mhm,” said Yui Kodai, nodding in support. Tetsutetsu also came in swinging with passionate indifference.

“Long as we’re tearing into meat, any kind’s all right by me!”

The other boys agreed, especially Kirishima, whose friendship with Tetsutetsu had grown ever since they’d fought at the Sports Festival.

“Every sorta meat’s a winner in my book! They’re all tasty!”

“So true, man,” shot back Tetsutetsu. The two boys grinned and flashed each other thumbs-ups.

They shared more than just a love for meat, since Kirishima’s “Hardening” Quirk and Tetsutetsu’s “Steel” produced remarkably similar effects. As it happened, both were also hot-blooded hard-liners who valued a certain brand of chivalry above all else. Their solidarity began to convince everyone else that meat was meat was meat, but Monoma wasn’t having it.

“Hmm? All tasty? Perhaps, but true nikujaga must feature pork. Everyone knows that,” he said, though in truth he couldn’t have cared less. Monoma had a compulsion for fanning the flames of competition in the hopes of beating class A at something—anything. And he knew exactly which of class A’s fuses to light.

“Ah, but if class A really doesn’t care either way, then we can skip this little showdown and just have our class choose. I can’t abide by beef in my nikujaga, so class B will get pork, okay? Does that sound fair, Bakugo?”

“Huhh?”

Monoma was sure to cast a lip-curling sneer in Bakugo’s direction, reminding the latter of the time their teams had clashed during the Sports Festival’s cavalry battle. Bakugo’s beastly hunger for victory and bold tactics had triumphed over Monoma’s strategy, but unlike with Kirishima and Tetsutetsu, the encounter hadn’t led to a healthy, friendly rivalry. It wasn’t exactly a grudge, but these two were hardly fans of each other.

“You’re fine with beef, right, Bakugo? I’m sure you wanted that delicious pork real badly, but your class A chums decided to throw in the towel, so you’ll just have to watch class B enjoy our pork nikujaga tomorrow.” A clear taunt from Monoma.

“Like hell I will. I want freaking pork!” roared Bakugo. He didn’t actually care about the choice of meat either, but the bundle of conceit known as Bakugo couldn’t stand by while class B’s instigator threw his weight around.

“Then I suppose we’ll need to compete to decide,” said Monoma casually.

“Damn right! I’ll destroy you class B goons if it means we get to have pork!”

The boys of class B flinched.

“Who the hell’re you calling ‘goons’?” yelled Tetsutetsu.

“You, for starters!” shot back Bakugo.

“Sorry, Tetsutetsu! Bakugo just can’t help himself when it comes to name-calling,” said Kirishima.

“That’s goon talk if ever I heard it, broomhead!” said Bakugo, turning on his own classmate.

At Bakugo’s declaration of war, Ida shot up in protest, waving his arms up and down.

“Bakugo! You must stop speaking for all of us… Especially during our all-important training camp! This is not meant to be a competition!”

“Think I care? This fool brought the fight, so I ain’t backing down!”

“You’re the one picking a fight now,” said Juzo Honenuki, the skull-faced boy sitting next to Tetsutetsu. Monoma had lit Bakugo’s fuse, and now Bakugo’s bad attitude was riling up the other boys of class B.

“Sensei!” cried Momo Yaoyorozu, looking to Aizawa to intercede, but the teacher only stood back and observed.

“Let them.”

“But…?”

“Outside of training, what you kids do you with your time is your choice. As long as you don’t cause trouble for the lodge,” said Aizawa, causing Ida to gasp in understanding.

“Aha, but of course! Our free time is our own…and with that independence comes the opportunity to engage in friendly rivalry, which will in turn make us better fighters and heroes someday… How brilliant, Sensei!”

“Sure, I guess.”

Blind to his teacher’s annoyance and apathy, Ida had managed to convince himself of a point that nobody was trying to make.

“Why don’t we settle this with arm wrestling, everyone?” proposed the straitlaced class president.

And so the boys would fight for the right to meat, perhaps as a throwback to ancient times, when men stalked the mighty mammoth across the frozen plains. Unlike cavewomen waiting for their menfolk to return from a successful hunt, though, the girls of classes A and B were already deep into their slumber party when the B boys stormed the A room. Incidentally, the boys hadn’t noticed Minoru Mineta’s conspicuous absence. Not when they were about to stake their pride on a battle for meat—a battle to be decided on a small table in the center of the room.

“You actually showed up, you copycat bastard,” said Bakugo, sneering at Monoma.

“Thought I would run from a chance to crush class A once and for all? Never,” said Monoma. His ploy to rile up Bakugo had gone exactly according to plan, and Monoma now shot a provocative grin back at class A’s powder keg.

“Mark my words, class B will feast upon pork tomorrow! I can picture it now—the jealous look on your faces. Like so many whimpering dogs!” continued Monoma, ending with a maniacal laugh befitting a villain.

“Not after I pound you into the dirt! That pork’s gonna be all mine!”

“Hang on!” said Hanta Sero. “You don’t get to hog the pork!”

“Sigh… This is all getting kinda ridiculous,” said Izuku Midoriya.

“Sure is,” said Shoto Todoroki. Neither cared about the matter of the meat, but with both groups of boys fired up, these two couldn’t very well sit it out.

Ida stood up between the two teams. His serious nature made him the ideal referee—a point that both classes had agreed upon earlier, by majority rule. Monoma had been the only voice of dissent, suggesting that Ida might sneakily favor his own class.

“It’s time to begin the arm wrestling,” said Ida, signaling for the chosen competitors from each class to step forward. Two teams of five, pure tests of strength, no Quirks allowed. Winning three or more matches would grant overall victory.

From class A, Mashirao Ojiro, Mezo Shoji, Koji Koda, Eijiro Kirishima, and Katsuki Bakugo.

Representing class B, Nirengeki Shoda, Juzo Honenuki, Jurota Shishida, Yosetsu Awase, and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu.

It seemed that both classes’ lineups were prioritizing power and grip strength. Bakugo scanned the rival squad before glaring at a rather nonchalant-looking Monoma.

“All that talk, talk, talk, and you ain’t even gonna fight?” said Bakugo.

“Do I look like a muscled brute to you? No. I will play the role of strategist,” explained Monoma.

Midoriya murmured, “Incredible,” impressed by anyone bold enough to provoke Bakugo and then continue to shove it in his face, like a bullfighter waving a cape. Meanwhile, Todoroki—though watching attentively from the sidelines—was overcome by postdinner drowsiness and couldn’t stifle a big yawn.

“Tch. Let’s just get this over with!” said Bakugo, mostly to Ida. But the latter tilted his head and said, “I feel as though we’re forgetting something…” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Of course! It’s nearly time for the supplemental lessons!”

Kirishima, Sero, Denki Kaminari, and Rikido Sato groaned audibly. The change to the bathing schedule had also moved up their lesson time.

“Ugh, but I don’t wanna!” whined Kaminari, like he’d been sentenced to a temporary trip to hell.

“No choice, Kaminari. Let’s get this over with,” said Sero, dragging his reluctant friend.

“Might as well give it our all!” added Sato, striking a powerful pose as the trio left the room.

The problem was Kirishima. He was a key member of the arm wrestling team, but the extra lessons had completely slipped his mind.

“I’ll just, uh, find a chance to sneak back here and compete!” said Kirishima.

“Kirishima! Your supplemental lessons are not to be shirked!”

“I’ll just say I gotta take a whiz at some point! Should be fine!”

But there was little pep in Kirishima’s step as he slunk out of the room, and the loss of one of team A’s brawlers was palpable. Monoma didn’t miss this chance.

“What’s this, now? The mighty class A had some failures after all? And your team’s lost a member? You might as well surrender now and be done with it!” he said with another shrill laugh. The worst part? Every word was true, so the boys of class A were stunned into silence.

“On that note, I’d better be off to my own extra lessons,” said Monoma, turning toward the door.

“You too?”

“I’ll find an opportunity to slip out as well. Worry not.”

“Monoma is really impressive…” murmured Midoriya, unable to hide the respect in his voice.

“Or just a loser,” said Todoroki, fighting back another yawn.

“Anyhow, let us begin!” said Ida loud and clear, attempting to shoo away the strange mood brought on by Monoma’s departure. “The first match is Ojiro versus Shoda!” Shoda, from class B, was short and somewhat plump, while Ojiro’s narrow eyes made him stand out in a plain way. The two boys stepped up to either side of the table and kneeled.

“Here’s to a good match, Ojiro.”

“You bet.”

These two had history. During the cavalry battle a few months back, both had been brainwashed into helping Hitoshi Shinso, a boy from General Studies. Shinso’s team had placed high, but Ojiro and Shoda hadn’t felt comfortable advancing to the tournament when they had no memory of the previous event. Instead, they’d stuck to their convictions and withdrawn with zero regrets.

Now their hands met atop the table, Shoda’schubby, baby-like hand contrasting with Ojiro’s solid, muscular one.

“Are you both ready?” asked Ida, placing one hand over theirs and checking that their elbows were resting on the table properly. Simple arm wrestling or not, an intense aura of competition had filled the large room. The class A boys had high hopes for Ojiro. His Quirk gave him a long, sturdy tail, but his real weapon, so to speak, was his propensity for martial arts. He was a born fighter.

“Ready…go!” shouted Ida, and it was over in an instant.

“Great going, Nirengeki!”

Shoda had annihilated Ojiro, leaving the latter dumbstruck and the former with a proud, almost bashful smile.

“The hell? What was that crap, Tail Guy?” said Bakugo, fuming.

“To think that Ojiro would be slain…” said Fumikage Tokoyami, hardly able to believe his eyes.

“Sorry, guys. He got me before I could even react…” gasped Ojiro, still stunned.

Midoriya, however, had been watching closely. His motormouth began analyzing.

“Interesting. Shoda was definitely faster, but his little hands didn’t hint at that at all… Ojiro couldn’t imagine getting taken down by a baby hand… In fact, he might’ve even been scared of hurting his opponent. So the small, soft hands were really a trap, and the strategy worked like a charm. Could even be used against villains, to throw them off guard? Give them a weak handshake, and then BAM? Shoda’s whole look is nonthreatening, actually. If he can exploit that and catch opponents while their defenses are down, he can do that much more damage.”

Midoriya’s dedication to becoming a hero frequently led him to hypothesize how one strategy or another could be used against villains. Shoda overheard the boy’s frantic muttering, though, and looked troubled.

“Nope, actually. I just arm wrestled like normal.”

“Ugh, shut the hell up! Next match!” said Bakugo, not giving class B time to revel in its victory.

“Will you ever learn to restrain that mouth of yours?” replied Ida, before calling Shoji and Honenuki to the table.

“Good luck, Shoji!” said Midoriya.

“Victory here will bring untold pride…” said Tokoyami, supporting his classmate.

“If you win, I will happily lend you my laser pointer, ☆” said Aoyama, but the reply from a mouth on the end of one of Shoji’s dupli-arms was simply, “No thanks.”

It was only natural that class B’s early win had fired up class A.

“Ready…go!”

Muscle clashed with muscle, and both arms shook violently. Inspired by their previous win, class B gave a rousing cheer, but to no avail. The balance quickly shifted, and Shoji’s bulky arm brought Honenuki’s crashing down onto the table.

“Wow. Not bad,” said Todoroki, sounding almost impressed. Class A cheered, class B groaned, and Bakugo gave a haughty “Hmph!” that could not go ignored by Tetsutetsu.

“Who died and made him king of the world?” said class B’s firebrand.

Now class B was eager to get to the third match. Representing class A was Koda, a shy boy with a stony-looking body, while class B sent out Shishida, whose glasses seemed at odds with his otherwise beastly appearance. Judging by looks alone, this match was anyone’s guess.

“Get it done, Koda!”

“Take ’im down, Jurota!”

With cheers coming from both sides, Koda and Shishida clasped hands.

“Ready…go!”

There was little motion. They were evenly matched. Shishida roared, determined not to give an inch, while Koda endured with all his might.

“C’mon, Koda!”

“Don’t give up, Jurota!”

Koda slowly began to exhaust Shishida’s impressive stamina, but while the rest of the boys whooped in the hopes of breaking the stalemate, nobody noticed who had just snuck back into the room.

“Go, do it!”

“Don’t fold, Jurota!”

Amid the screams and cries, one voice suddenly stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Ack, a bug!”

“Eeek?” yelped Koda, who feared bugs and couldn’t help but flinch. Shishida felt the pressure against his arm slacken and made his move, pinning Koda’s hand under his own.

“What…? Ugh, Monoma? When’d you creep back in here?”

“Just now, in fact.”

As promised, Monoma had slipped out of his lessons just in time to shift the tides of match three. Meanwhile, Koda was now cowering behind Ida, frantically scanning for stray bugs.

“Calm yourself, Koda! I don’t see any insects about.”

“Ohh? I could have sworn I spotted a bug. Perhaps I was wrong,” said Monoma.

“You won’t be interfering again once I’m done with you!” said Bakugo, practically leaping at Monoma, but the latter maintained his devil-may-care attitude.

“That’s quite the accusation, considering you have no proof. Blaming me for your team’s loss? Now that’s just sour grapes! Awful! Terrible! Anyhow, I’d best be getting back.”

“Huhh? I swear, I’ll…” cursed Bakugo under his breath as Monoma flitted out of the room.

“Monoma’s not really a bad guy… He just cares a little too much about class B and our pride…” said Shoda apologetically.

“Tell it to someone who cares! Hey, Rocky! You’re seriously scared of freaking bugs?”

Koda seemed to deflate as Bakugo tore into him, but Tokoyami tried to comfort his friend.

“We all have our demons… Don’t let it get to you.”

The score was now two to one, in class B’s favor, and a third win would mean total victory.

“Match four is Kirishima versus Awase, but…” began Ida.

“What now?” asked Awase, the bandanna-wearing boy who’d stepped up to the table.

“Hrm…” pondered Ida. “Kirishima said he would attempt to make it back for a moment, but he clearly hasn’t found a chance. Shall we have Bakugo face Tetsutetsu now? Or choose a replacement for Kirishima?”

“I’ll take my turn, sure thing!” said Tetsutetsu, making the decision easy for the troubled referee. Bakugo had other thoughts.

“Hell no. The title match has gotta come last.”

“Huh? Why’s it always gotta be about you, anyhow?” said Tetsutetsu, not backing down.

“Give it a rest, metalhead.”

As he watched the confrontation, Midoriya found Tetsutetsu’s boldness particularly refreshing. And Bakugo had barely changed at all. A funny expression arose on Midoriya’s face.

Scary how used to this I am…

Tetsutetsu and Bakugo’s war of words was about to escalate when Kirishima burst into the room.

“Sorry I’m late!” said Kirishima.

“Just on time actually, Kirishima!” said Ida.

“Phew. What’s the score?”

“Two to one, and we’re losing.”

“Yikes! Well, I’d better bring my A game!”

Kirishima and Awase locked hands, and Tetsutetsu and Bakugo put their squabble aside to watch.

“Ready…go!”

Awase took an early lead, swiftly bringing the back of Kirishima’s hand several hairbreadths from the table. Kirishima endured, but the awkward angle put him at a huge disadvantage.

“You’re not done yet, Kirishima!”

“Go, go, Awase!”

The cheers got louder and louder, and things looked dire for Kirishima until a roar from Bakugo shook the room.

“Kirishima! Lose this thing and you’re dead!”

The absurd threat caught everyone off guard, including Awase, giving Kirishima the chance he needed to swing his arm up and over the top. Awase’s hand hit the table with a smack.

“Thanks for being so supportive, dude!” said Kirishima with a smile, leaving everyone wondering how a threat on his life from Bakugo qualified as support.

In any case, the score was tied, which meant the title match would decide it all. Bakugo and Tetsutetsu stomped toward the table, finally ready to show what they were made of.

“Bakugo…or Tetsutetsu…? Argh, who’m I s’posed to root for?” said Kirishima, clutching his head. Tetsutetsu could sense Kirishima’s struggle to choose one friend or the other, so he flashed the latter a thumbs-up.

“Kirishima! Don’t worry about me, bro!”

“Sorry, Tetsutetsu! But I’m in class A! You get it, right, man?”

“Shut. Up!” said Bakugo, interrupting the melodramatic macho moment.

“Bring it home for us, Bakugo!” said Kirishima.

The boys placed their elbows on the table, locked hands, and glared at each other.

“At the word go, you’re dead meat.”

“Naww, class B’s taking home the prize today!”

“Gentlemen, the match hasn’t started yet! Release each other!” said Ida.

They’d jumped the gun and started the battle on pure instinct, but the referee forced them to back off and reset. Bakugo and Tetsutetsu breathed deeply and awaited the starting signal.

“Ready…go!”

Bakugo was quicker on the draw. In a repeat of what had happened to Kirishima in the previous match, Tetsutetsu’s hand suddenly hovered just above the surface of the table, but he fought back and started lifting Bakugo’s arm. The grin Bakugo shot him almost seemed to applaud his efforts. Each poured all his strength into his arm, pushing back against the other with waves of force. Power against power, the bones and muscles of their arms practically creaked under the pressure. It was a breathless, evenly matched back-and-forth.

“Go, Bakugo!”

“End this game, Tetsutetsu!”

The audience was just as fired up as the competitors now. Unimaginably so, considering that the stakes were the rights to a bit of pork. As the seconds passed, though, the gap in raw talent became apparent. Bakugo began to read his opponent’s breathing, and Tetsutetsu’s wrist started to crumple backward. With the balance broken, Bakugo’s arm advanced mercilessly, slowly grinding down Tetsutetsu’s.

“Tetsutetsu!”

“Bakugo!”

The voices from class B had notes of horror and despair, while those of class A echoed with glee.

“Don’t you lose, Tetsutetsu!” screamed Honenuki, hoping for a miracle and too momentarily distracted to notice the hand that had brushed his shoulder.

Tetsutetsu’s veins bulged and his face contorted in agony—defeat was close at hand. But just as Bakugo was about to claim victory, he rocked off-balance. It was the tatami mat under his feet.

“Huh?”

Tetsutetsu was too focused to recognize his opponent’s shock for what it was, and his arm didn’t miss a beat, pushing up and over with all its coiled energy and bringing Bakugo’s hand down onto the table. Bakugo leaped away from the tatami mat that had nearly swallowed him up, furious that he’d been robbed of his victory.

“What the hell was that?” he shouted.

Midoriya glanced at the warped tatami mat and gasped.

“It’s…been softened, by Honenuki’s Quirk?”

“Softening,” as the name implied, allowed Honenuki to soften any nonliving object with a single touch.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” cried Honenuki, indignant at Midoriya’s accusation. No other Quirk in the room was capable of such a thing, except…

“Damn you to hell!” shouted Bakugo toward Monoma, who had nearly made it out the door without being noticed.

“To hell? For what, exactly?” said Monoma, feigning ignorance. His Quirk was “Copy,” which let him copy anyone else’s Quirk for five minutes after touching them.

“We all know that was you, just now!”

“Hmm? What was me? You would dare to treat me like a criminal without any proof again?”

Another shrill laugh, and the boy was out the door.

“Sorry, I’d better get back there too! Good luck,” said Kirishima, suddenly remembering his own lessons.

“I’ll kill that copycat bastard!” shouted Bakugo.

“H-he’s really not that bad once you get to know him…” said Shoda, feeling like another apology was in order. Kendo might have solved the Monoma problem with a swift chop to the neck, but for better or worse, the girls were in the middle of their slumber party.

“So… What happens now?” asked Ojiro, turning to Ida.

“Hrm… Shall we start over…?” said Ida.

“No freaking way! I was about to win there!” spat Bakugo.

“Nuh-uh! I made a solid comeback at the end!” countered Tetsutetsu. With their honorable match interrupted, the two were back to petty squabbling.

Ida grumbled, desperately trying to think of a solution that would satisfy all. Midoriya had the same thought, and his eureka moment came when his eyes settled on one corner of the room.

“Um, we could compete again, but this time with a pillow fight?” said Midoriya. In one corner of the boys’ large room, their futons were stacked high with a pile of pillows on top.

“But, Midoriya, pillows were not made to be weapons,” said Ida.

“True, but… Look, this could be a way to settle our argument where nobody actually gets hurt.”

“I must agree that is a fantastic feature of your pillow proposal, but…”

Ida still seemed unconvinced, so the other boys chimed in, clearly excited about such a staple of overnight field trips.

“Pillow fight, let’s do it!”

“My blood’s already pumping just thinking about it!”

No need to tally the votes—referee Ida agreed to the pillow fight. Class A was at a numbers disadvantage, though, so class B had to draft a select team of eight members.

From A, Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugo, Tokoyami, Shoji, Aoyama, Ojiro, and Koda.

From B, Tetsutetsu, Honenuki, Awase, Shoda, Shishida, Kosei Tsuburaba, Sen Kaibara, and Kojiro Bondo.

Ida would continue in his role as referee.

The boys weren’t sure about the “official” rules for pillow fighting, so they came up with their own. A five-minute time limit, and five pillows in play, total. Like in dodgeball, catching a pillow meant one was safe. Getting hit and dropping the pillow meant one was out. Whichever team had more surviving members at the end would win. No Quirk use allowed, of course. The line dividing the teams ran down the very center of the room, and the nonparticipating class B boys sat in one corner, cheering on their classmates.

“Get ready to cry this time, you goons,” said Bakugo, issuing what was a pretty low-key threat, for him.

“Not a chance! Class B forever!” fired back Tetsutetsu.

“Pillow fight or not, treat these pillows with care!” said the referee. “As you throw them, spare a thought for the craftspeople who created these objects!”

Midoriya was fairly certain those craftspeople had never imagined this use for their pillows, but he held his tongue, since the game was about to begin.

“Let the pillow fight commence!”

No sooner had Ida spoken than the pillows started flying, whizzing past each other with unreasonable speed and force, for pillows. Getting hit by one might actually hurt. But for the time being, there was only catching and counterthrows, with blinding pillow-based assaults from every angle and direction.

“Very impressive!” said Ida, struggling to remain focused enough to execute his duties. It was impressive, though—neither side was budging, and all players were still in the game after several minutes.

“To your right, Midoriya!”

“Thanks, Tokoyami!”

Tokoyami’s quick warning helped Midoriya dodge one of Honenuki’s throws, coming in at a dead angle. Right at the dividing line, Bakugo leaped and aimed a pillow square at Tetsutetsu.

“Naptime for you, metalhead!”

“Won’t catch me sleeping on the job!”

As promised, Tetsutetsu caught Bakugo’s killer toss at point-blank range and threw the pillow right back.

“Eat my Iron Beast Bomber!”

The brutal combos and bombastic back-and-forth went on, the casual game having long since surpassed the realm of an ordinary pillow fight. This was war.

“Incredible!” said Midoriya, starting in again. “Battling on a team like this is perfect for any number of simulations, and having five pillows in play means a high frequency of attacks. So we have to defend while fighting back, striking a balance. Plus, we can come up with strategies to…”

Todoroki caught a pillow before it could nail the mumbling Midoriya.

“Think later, Midoriya. Act now.”

“Oh, sorry, Todoroki!”

“Focus up, you damn nerd!” said Bakugo.

Before they knew it, the five minutes were up.

“We have a tie game!” announced Ida, unable to hide his glowing admiration for both teams of warriors. Not a single boy had been knocked out, but in a way that was only natural, since the practical exercises of the Hero Course had already honed their bodies in the few months since school had started. They’d grown too agile and adept to be taken down by a mere tossed pillow.

“What now?”

“We go again, duh!”

It was like they were back in elementary school, ready to explode with excitement at the drop of a hat. But the excitement soon waned, especially when the second round also ended in a tie. And the third, and the fourth.

“Ugh, just settle this already!” came a shout from the class B spectators, and the pillow fighters felt the same way. This draining tournament was already coming after a full day of Quirk training, which was now taking a toll on their energy levels. They wanted it to be over, but every round ended in a tie. A single thought passed through the exhausted boys’ minds.

What if they could use their Quirks?

The fifth round began.

“Take this! My Iron Buster Cannon!”

Bakugo caught Tetsutetsu’s throw, just as he had countless times. His frustration was building to the bursting point.

“Gotta say, you come up with the lamest attack names, dammit!”

“Huh? No way! My attacks are ultracool!”

“Yeah, if you think ancient fighting games are cool!”

“That’s rich, coming from ‘Lord Explosion Murder’!” quipped Tetsutetsu, referring to the code name Bakugo had come up with during class—a name rejected for being distinctly unheroic sounding.

“Gah! Lord Explosion Murder’s better than your crap, metalhead!” screamed Bakugo. A small explosion burst from his palm during his next throw, set off by the nitroglycerin-like sweat created by his Quirk. It wasn’t on purpose—the earlier training had succeeded in enlarging his pores, making the explosions that much easier to trigger.

“Stop, stop! Bakugo, use of Quirks is a violation of the rules!” shouted Ida.

“Wasn’t trying to! It just happened!”

Upon hearing Bakugo’s excuse, a few of the wearier boys gasped. Accidental Quirk use would be overlooked?

“Resume!”

The first one to react to Ida’s command was Tsuburaba, a listless class B boy with notably round eyes. He coughed exaggeratedly to disguise a quick exhale that created an invisible barrier in midair. Tsuburaba’s Quirk was “Solid Air,” which let him transform his breath into floating shields and platforms.

“Oops, my bad!”

“And accidents don’t count, right?” said Awase, who wasted no time in using Tsuburaba’s solid air as a foothold, leaping nearly to the ceiling to chuck a pillow at a dumbstruck Koda. But Ojiro threw himself in front of his classmate, using his prehensile tail to catch Awase’s missile.

“Tsuburaba! Ojiro! Quirks are forbidden in this game!” chided Ida.

“Sorry! But they did it first,” said Ojiro, looking distressed. Meanwhile, a wicked grin arose on Bakugo’s face.

“Right, sure, accidents don’t count… Fair enough… So my bad if this kills ya!” said Bakugo, tossing an explosion-powered pillow at Tsuburaba. The target didn’t have time to create a new shield, but the pillow bounced off the existing solidified air overhead.

“My bad over here, too!” said Honenuki, who’d already touched a few of the tatami mats on the class A side of the battlefield, softening them. He, Awase, and Kaibara took the chance to pepper their opponents with pillows.

“Whoa!” yelped Midoriya, who used his Quirk to leap high into the air, dodging the pillows and escaping the softened floor simultaneously. “One For All” granted Midoriya prodigious power that had been stockpiled and passed down through the generations.

Nearby, Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow lifted Aoyama out of harm’s way, while Todoroki’s “Half-Cold Half-Hot” created ice platforms, allowing him to rescue Koda and Shoji. Bakugo was, of course, firing off explosions with every pillow he threw.

“I guess we’re all allowed to use our Quirks now?” asked Todoroki, a bit bewildered.

“Erm, still against the rules, but we kinda don’t have a choice…?” said Midoriya, at somewhat of a loss.

“What’s the meaning of this? Stop using your Quirks at once!” screamed referee Ida from the sidelines, swinging his arms like mad and eliciting a series of “My bad!” and “That was an accident!” from the participants.

“Why’re you guys breaking the rules, huh?” asked Tetsutetsu.

“This was supposed to be a fair battle!” added Shoda.

“But this was never going to end otherwise! Oops, my bad!” said Honenuki as he picked up a pillow. Shoji caught Honenuki’s projectile with one of his dupli-arm tentacles and spoke from a mouth on a neighboring tentacle.

“If our opponents can’t help all these ‘accidents,’ then neither can we.”

With tentacles spread like wings, Shoji caught a number of pillows at once and threw them all back at full force.

“My bad.”

“It’s only logical… Now go, Dark Shadow! But not on purpose!” said Tokoyami.

“Yep, my bad too!” added Dark Shadow, Tokoyami’s birdlike familiar. The creature swooped across the battlefield, catching every last pillow thrown by class B and returning the favor.

Midoriya surveyed the scene and began muttering again.

“Of course, Shoji’s Quirk makes him well suited to catching multiple objects at once! And throwing them back, even. Why, he could even deal with a mad bomber that way, assuming the bombs weren’t overly powerful… Hmm. Oh, but Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow could just carry the bombs a safe distance away! Tsuburaba’s Quirk is also quite versatile. Those shields are invisible, and he doesn’t make much noise while creating them. Perfect for an approach from above in a hostage situation… Wow, so many possibilities!”

“Quit yer babbling, Deku!” roared Bakugo. He spun around and launched a pillow at Midoriya.

“I’m on your team, Kacchan!”

“Just shut up already! It’s distracting!”

Dark Shadow playfully caught a pillow hurled by Shishida and said “More pillows, more fun!” before grabbing every last pillow from the reserve pile in the corner.

“Dark Shadow’s having a bit too much fun, no?” said Todoroki.

“Enough, Dark Shadow! This is no game—our pride as men is at stake,” said Tokoyami, scolding his familiar.

“I thought it was steak at stake? Or pork, non? ☆” said Aoyama, who was attempting to hide and take a breather. But a blob of white liquid from Bondo’s Quirk, “Cemedine,” made its mark and hardened Aoyama to the floor where he crouched.

“Will you all please listen! No more Quirks, I said!” shouted Ida in vain, just as Monoma returned for the third time.

“Well, this has certainly escalated,” he said.

Class B was clearly struggling to defend against Bakugo’s explosion-powered pillows, while Shoji and Dark Shadow provided ironclad defense. Tsuburaba, Honenuki, and Bondo had their own defensive and disruptive tricks, but team B was lacking attacks with any real punch.

“Crud, we might actually lose this!” groaned Tetsutetsu.

Awase said “Oh, I know!” and ran around whispering his plan to everyone but Tetsutetsu and Shoda, all while dodging class A’s attacks. Each class B boy nodded at Awase in turn and began passing him any and all pillows they caught. By the time class A noticed, Awase had amassed a mountain of pillows.

“Don’t stop throwing, you!” said Bakugo.

“Cram it! This is a valid strategy!” shot back Awase.

“A strategy I’m wholeheartedly on board with!” said Monoma, who’d managed to sneak to the back of class B’s territory without anyone noticing.

“You again, Monoma?”

The last thing class A expected was for the enemy strategists’ eyes to flash red.

“Do it now!” shrieked Monoma.

“Creeping around again, copycat? Wait…huh?” said Bakugo, shooting a glance down at his own hand in disbelief. No explosion issued forth. Sensing something was up, Midoriya tried to rush over with a burst of One For All, but that failed too.

“Is he…using Aizawa Sensei’s Quirk?” gasped Midoriya.

Monoma grinned suggestively, his eyes bulging wide, unblinking.

“That’s right. I plucked a bit of lint off your dear teacher’s shoulder and managed to touch him in the process. So now’s your chance, Awase!”

“G-got it!”

Awase had used his Quirk, “Weld,” to fuse the pillows together on the atomic level, thereby forming one massive monster pillow. One far too large to catch. And since Monoma had copied Aizawa’s “Erasure,” Todoroki couldn’t even throw up an ice wall to protect the boys of class A.

“Heave ho!”

The class B boys joined forces to lift the pillow, and even Tetsutetsu and Shoda—who’d been protesting the use of Quirks just a moment earlier—decided to cooperate at the last second.

“Dirty rotten cheaters!” shouted Bakugo.

“All’s fair in love and war, I’m afraid! Throw it now, boys!” shouted Monoma.

They reared back, stepped forward, and sent the jumbo pillow flying just as the room’s sliding screen snapped open.

“What do you think you’re doing in h—”

“Argh!”

The ultra pillow had flown far. As far as the doorway, in fact, where it smacked into the homeroom teachers of classes A and B, Aizawa and Vlad King. The two had grown suspicious of the ruckus coming from the boys’ room as well as Monoma’s oddly frequent bathroom breaks.

Every last boy went pale.

“You wanna explain yourselves?” shouted the imposingly muscular Vlad King, whose roar froze the class B boys in place. “This is an embarrassment! Using your Quirks for a silly game…? Have you forgotten why you’re here? To train for your provisional licenses, you little fools!”

“W-we’re sorry, Sensei!”

They were practically in tears.

“We said this time was your own, but that didn’t entitle you to this sort of idiocy… Still, very good to know you’ve all got so much energy to burn.”

Aizawa, meanwhile, remained silent, but his icy stare was enough to send chills down his students’ spines. He didn’t need to speak a word to communicate his rage, and the boys of class A were too terrified even to attempt a meek apology.

The homeroom teachers were like substitute parents to these kids, and in the teachers’ minds, the students might as well have been their own children. Each man had his own methods and theories on education, but both agreed that it was their duty to punish troublemakers as necessary.

“Energy to burn, yes… Why don’t we double tomorrow’s training for this bunch, Vlad?” said Aizawa, finally speaking up.

“Great idea!” said Vlad.

“B-but!”

Today’s training had been harsh enough, so the boys couldn’t help but balk at the suggestion. A piercing glare from Aizawa quickly silenced them.

“Still have the energy to protest, even? Three times the training, then.”

The boys choked back their outcry with tears in their eyes. Any more training might actually kill them. Aizawa’s lesson still wasn’t over, though.

“This all started over the matter of tomorrow’s dinner, right? So it’s only appropriate…that you boys go without any meat at all!” said Aizawa.

“Nooo!”

“Forcing us to go vegetarian? Too cruel!”

“Want to lose the potatoes too?” suggested Aizawa.

And so, the teachers brought an end to the fateful clash between classes A and B, handing both a stunning loss of sorts. The boys would no doubt find themselves fighting fiercely for things that mattered someday, whether that be pride, meat, or something bigger. But while that burning passion could do a lot of good, the would-be heroes had to be careful not to stray from the path. That’s where lessons like this one came into play. Lessons to keep them on the road to becoming true heroes.