Chapter 19: Obstacles, Onlookers, and an Overqualified Shortcut
"REEEAAAADYYYY… GO!"
With the shriek of Present Mic's voice, the U.A. Sports Festival's first event exploded into being. The narrow gateway to the obstacle course immediately became a bottleneck of struggling, desperate students. But not for Shoto Todoroki. With a single, decisive stomp, he sent a massive wave of ice surging forward, freezing a huge portion of his competition in place and creating a slick, private runway for himself.
"A brilliant, if chilly, start for Shoto Todoroki!" Mic screamed into his microphone.
"He also trapped half his own classmates," Aizawa commented, his voice a dry monotone. "Subtlety is not his strong suit."
From the commentary box, they had a perfect view. Bakugo, refusing to be trapped, used his explosions to propel himself into the air like a human missile. Aoyama glittered with his navel laser. Uraraka gracefully floated over the icy scrum. Every student used their Quirk, their wits, their sheer determination to gain an edge. It was a beautiful, chaotic display of youthful power.
Saitama saw none of it. He was on a drab, gray maintenance path that ran alongside the main course, separated by a high chain-link fence. His job was to patrol the perimeter. He walked at a steady, unhurried pace, sipping his canned coffee, his orange "STAFF" vest making him look like a road worker on a very boring break. The roaring cheers of the crowd were just a dull, persistent noise to his right.
He reached the first major checkpoint. The Robo Inferno. Dozens of the colossal Zero-Pointer robots from the entrance exam blocked the path, their red eyes glowing menacingly. For the students, it was a terrifying and awe-inspiring challenge. Todoroki brought one down with a massive ice wave, creating a beautifully precarious frozen statue. Other students scrambled to find a way through the legs of the metal behemoths.
Saitama watched the pile-up from behind the fence. He saw students getting stuck, creating a massive traffic jam. He saw the danger of a destabilized robot falling on a group of kids. He took a sip of his coffee.
"This is a major safety hazard," his mind concluded, not with heroic urgency, but with the weary pragmatism of a janitor. "And if they get stuck here too long, the event schedule will be delayed. That probably means more paperwork for someone."
He looked at the impassable wall of robots. Then he looked at the massive, solid rock canyon wall that formed the boundary of the entire race course. He decided to clear the traffic jam.
He walked up to the sheer rock face. There was no wind-up, no battle cry. He just drew back a fist and punched. It wasn't one of his "serious" punches, nor even a "normal" one. It was a simple, functional, hole-making punch.
The result was a perfect, clean, arch-shaped tunnel, ten meters wide and fifty meters long, that cut straight through the solid bedrock. It completely bypassed the entire Robo Inferno section. The inside of the tunnel was smooth as polished marble. Not a single loose pebble was dislodged. It just… was.
A few students from the General Studies and Support courses, hopelessly stuck behind the robots, saw the tunnel suddenly appear. There was no sound, no explosion, just a sudden, gaping hole in reality. They looked at each other, shrugged, and took the miraculous shortcut.
In the commentary box, Present Mic's jaw hit the table. "WHAT THE—?! HOLD THE PHONE, LISTENERS! A MYSTERIOUS TUNNEL HAS JUST APPEARED ON THE COURSE! IS THIS A SECRET FEATURE COURTESY OF PRINCIPAL NEZU?!"
Aizawa slowly put his face in his hands. "No," he mumbled into the microphone, his voice filled with an ancient weariness. "No, it is not."
Saitama, his duty done, continued his patrol. He reached the next obstacle, "The Fall," a dizzyingly deep canyon spanned only by a few thick ropes. He watched as students carefully, painstakingly made their way across, some using their Quirks, others their raw athleticism. He needed to get to the other side to continue his perimeter check. He looked at the ropes. Then he looked across the vast, kilometer-wide chasm. The ropes seemed tedious.
He took a few steps back, performed a simple, standing hop, and sailed silently through the air. It wasn't a heroic leap; it was a parabola of pure convenience. On the ground below, a news camera operator, panning across the canyon for a wide shot, caught a brief, blurry image of an orange-vested figure soaring gracefully from one cliff to the other. The footage would later go viral on the internet under the title, "U.A.'s Flying Janitor???"
By the time he reached the final section, the minefield, the race was nearing its conclusion. He saw the green-haired boy, Midoriya, digging frantically in the dirt, a look of desperate genius on his face. Saitama was about to continue his walk when he spotted a discarded plastic bottle near his feet. He sighed at the lack of respect for the environment, bent down to pick it up, and was suddenly deafened by a colossal explosion.
He looked up to see Midoriya, riding a massive sheet of metal, propelled into the sky by the chain reaction of mines he had just triggered. It was a breathtaking, brilliant, and incredibly reckless move that shot him into first place. The entire stadium erupted into a deafening roar.
Saitama watched the kid sail over the finish line. He then looked at the plastic bottle in his hand and started walking towards the nearest recycling bin. His patrol was complete. The course was, for the most part, still standing. An official, his face red with excitement and confusion, ran up to him near the finish line.
"Sir! You're staff! Did you see it? Who made that tunnel?! We have to know!"
Saitama dropped the bottle into the correct bin with a satisfying clatter. He looked at the frantic official with blank eyes.
"No idea," he said. "But it looks like they forgot to fill out the proper construction permits."