The UA Sports Festival stadium was not on the school campus.
It was twenty minutes away by bus, in a part of the city that, any other day of the year, had the quality of a space that exists to be used occasionally and waits the rest of the time. An oval stadium with three tiers of stands, screens in the upper corners, and a central track considerably larger than any training facility Mineta had seen at UA. It had parking for the crowd filling the stands and separate entrances for participants and spectators.
Class 1-A arrived by bus along with the other first-year classes, with that particular silence of twenty people who have taken thousands of bus trips in normal circumstances—but this was not a normal circumstance.
Mineta looked out the window during the ride.
The navy-blue UA tracksuit was the same for everyone. No distinction by year or specialty. No hero costume, no pneumatic shoulder pads, no rebound soles, no launch systems.
Just the tracksuit, the body, and the two quirks.
Good, he told himself. Work with what you have.
The locker rooms had that functional quality of spaces designed for efficiency rather than comfort. Long benches, numbered lockers, and the peculiar echo of twenty people moving in a space that amplified sound.
Kaminari was the first to break the silence, which was predictable.
—Hey, is all of Japan watching this?
—Yes, —Jirou said without looking at him.
—All of Japan.
—Yes.
—I mean, millions of people.
—Kaminari.
—What?
—Stop.
Kaminari paused for about four seconds.
—What if my battery dies in the middle of something?
Jirou closed her eyes briefly with the expression of someone who had had this conversation before, even though technically it was the first time.
—You've been training for a year not to run out of battery.
—Training and live TV are different things.
—They're exactly the same thing, just with more people watching.
—That doesn't help me.
—I wasn't trying to help you, I was trying to get you to shut up.
Sero, from the bench next to him, gave Kaminari a pat on the shoulder with the specific solidarity of someone who understands panic even if they don't share it.
—Hey, you have one of the most visually spectacular quirks in the entire class. If you don't run out of battery, you're going to look great on camera.
Kaminari processed that.
—True, —he said, with considerably more positive energy.
—Don't get too excited, —Jirou added.
Ashido was stretching on the floor with her usual focus, not participating in the conversation but with a smile at the corner of her mouth that suggested she was listening perfectly.
Uraraka had her hands together, looking at the floor, in that pre-event state where outside conversation simply stopped reaching her.
Kirishima tapped his own fists with that genuine expression of determination that appeared when he stopped being Hallway Kirishima.
—Let's do well today. All of us.
—That's the plan, yes, —Sero said.
—No, seriously. —He looked at them. —The whole class.
No one responded exactly, but the locker room had that moment of twenty people agreeing on something without needing to say it.
Bakugo, in his corner, said nothing.
But he also didn't contradict it.
Todoroki stood up.
He crossed the locker room.
He went to the bench where Midoriya was.
The locker room noticed.
Todoroki stood in front of Midoriya with that expression of his that says he's going to say something regardless of the context.
—I'm stronger than you, —he said. Not as a provocation. As a fact. —In power and versatility. That's objective.
Midoriya closed his notebook. He looked at Todoroki.
—And yet you're going to try to win. I saw it at the USJ. —A pause. —So I'm going for you first.
The locker room was silent. Mineta observed from his position.
It's not a threat, he thought. It's a framework. Todoroki needs a concrete goal to organize himself. What he's not saying is why that goal specifically has to be Midoriya.
Midoriya paused for a moment.
—Fine. But I'm also going to try to win. Against you and everyone else.
Todoroki looked at him for a second. Nodded. And returned to his spot.
—Was that a declaration of war or respect? —Kaminari whispered to Sero.
—Both, I think.
—Can it be both?
—It just was.
Bakugo stood.
He didn't go to Midoriya.
He went to Mineta.
No one expected it. Including Mineta.
Bakugo planted himself in front of him and looked down at him for a second without saying anything, with that intensity of his that made silence heavier than with other people.
—The USJ, —he finally said.
Mineta looked at him.
—Yeah.
—What a complete stupidity.
Mineta waited, because there was clearly more. If Bakugo only wanted to tell him it was stupid, he wouldn't have crossed the locker room to do it.
Bakugo furrowed his brow slightly, like someone processing how to say something he's not used to saying.
—Today, I'm not ignoring you, —he finally said.
And returned to his corner.
The locker room processed that exchange in silence. Kirishima looked at Bakugo with the expression of someone who knows him well enough to understand exactly what had just happened. Kaminari looked at Mineta with the expression of someone who didn't fully understand but felt it was important.
—Was that a compliment? —Kaminari whispered to Sero.
—Coming from Bakugo, yes, —Sero said.
—What a weird compliment.
—It's Bakugo.
—Ah. Yes. Makes sense.
Mineta looked ahead.
Today, I'm not ignoring you, he had said. In Bakugo's vocabulary, that meant he expected him to do something worth not ignoring.
It was more pressure than he had anticipated before the race even started. It was also, honestly, useful.
Iida checked the clock.
—It's time.
The tunnel leading out to the field had that transition of going from a closed space to a space that was exactly the opposite of closed.
Mineta stepped onto the field, and the stadium was there, complete, in all directions. Thousands of people in the stands. Screens showing each class's entrance in real time. The central track with the starting point of the Obstacle Race marked on the cement. Tunnels leading to the outer circuit of the stadium where the four-kilometer race would take place.
And the sound.
Mineta had anticipated it abstractly. In practice it was another thing, something that hit like a physical force before the brain could process it as information.
Present Mic from the commentary booth:
—LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL! BROADCAST LIVE FOR ALL OF JAPAN! PRESENTING THE FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS!
The stands responded.
The other classes arrived from their tunnels as the first-year formation completed in the central area.
Class 1-B with Monoma Neito visible, who exchanged glances with several 1-A students with that smile of his. Mineta noticed and archived it.
The support course with devices integrated into their UA tracksuits, technically within regulations.
The business course with the posture of observers.
The general studies course with the energy of people who know this is their moment to prove that the course they're in doesn't define the ceiling of what they can do.
Mineta scanned them.
He found him toward the end of the formation: Shinso Hitoshi. Dark purple hair, the posture of someone who has arrived with a very specific goal and doesn't need anyone else to know yet.
There he is, Mineta thought. I know what he's going to do in the second round. But that's for later.
He archived it.
Midnight climbed the central stage.
—WELCOME TO THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL, FIRST-YEARS! —The whip in her hand. Her voice filling the space. —Before we start, the opening oath. The designated representative is Bakugo Katsuki.
Bakugo stepped onto the podium. The stadium waited.
—I will win, —he said.
A second of silence. The stadium erupted in boos.
From 1-A's formation:
—Was that the oath? —Kaminari whispered.
—Technically, he said what he was going to do, —Sero said.
—That's a very weird form of oath.
—It's Bakugo.
—Ah. Yes. Makes sense.
Bakugo stepped down from the podium without looking at anyone and returned to formation. Yaoyorozu had the expression of someone evaluating if the event required any action as representative and concluding it did not.
Mineta looked ahead.
Exactly like in canon, he thought. Some things don't change.
Midnight waited for the stadium volume to drop.
—Alright! The First-Year Sports Festival will consist of three rounds. Details of the second and third rounds will be revealed when the time comes. The first round is…
The stadium screens lit up.
—THE OBSTACLE RACE! A four-kilometer race around the stadium. All first-year students participate. The first forty-two advance to the second round. The obstacles… —Midnight smiled with the energy of someone who genuinely enjoys the anticipation she's generating —, you'll discover them when you reach them!
Present Mic:
—ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN STUDENTS! ONLY FORTY-TWO ADVANCE! USE OF QUIRKS IS PERMITTED AS LONG AS YOU STAY WITHIN THE MARKED CIRCUIT!
In 1-A's formation, the usual simultaneous processes began.
—Surprise obstacles? —Kaminari said. —I mean, we don't even know what they are.
—That's what she said, —confirmed Sero.
—Stressful.
—I think that's the point.
Ashido checked her shoes. Kirishima flexed his fingers. Uraraka inhaled and exhaled slowly. Jirou adjusted something only she could hear.
Midoriya had that analytical gaze, though without specific information on what to analyze yet, which made him look slightly frustrated in the way someone does when the data has been taken away before they can process it.
Todoroki looked ahead. Bakugo had the posture of someone who had already made all relevant decisions regardless of what came next.
Mineta looked at the start of the circuit.
Four kilometers. Surprise obstacles for everyone else. Not a surprise for him. He knew exactly what was on the course because he had seen it in the anime. The entrance exam robots as the first obstacle, large enough to block the passage of one hundred eleven students in the tunnel. The rope canyon over the abyss as the second, where chaos would peak because the space was narrow and one had to choose between speed and safety. The minefield as the third, where the key was not to avoid the mines but to use them.
That information was the most real advantage he had today.
Spheres at one hundred percent, he reminded himself. Resin Protocol between forty-five and fifty percent with high variability. Spheres are the primary tool. Resin Protocol is additional. Don't forget.
He looked for his position on the starting line. Not in front, where density would be a problem in the first meters. Not in the back, where the distance to recover would be too great.
In the middle. With visibility of what was ahead and space to move when the race began to fragment.
He found that spot. He positioned himself.
I know exactly what's coming. I know exactly how to respond to each obstacle. No one else in this course has that.
Use it.
—Participants, to your positions! —Midnight announced.
—THREE!
The stadium held its breath.
—TWO!
Midoriya three rows ahead. Todoroki further ahead. Bakugo in the first row.
—ONE!
Work with what you have, he told himself. As always.
—GO!
End of Episode 25.