Chapter 21: Team-Ups, Tensions, and a Teriyaki Skewer.
The brief intermission was over. The holographic screen in the center of the stadium shimmered, displaying the rules for the second event: The Cavalry Battle. A wave of murmurs and frantic calculations swept through the 42 remaining students. It was a game of strategy, of alliances, and of merciless predation. And at its very center was Izuku Midoriya, a reluctant king burdened with a crown of ten million points.
The moment the fifteen-minute team-building period began, he became a pariah. Students who had been friendly just moments before now actively avoided his gaze. He was not a classmate; he was a final boss, a walking jackpot that no one wanted to risk defending. His initial attempts to ask for partners were met with polite, nervous refusals. The panic began to set in, cold and sharp.
Across the field, other teams formed with ruthless efficiency. Bakugo, snarling like a caged wolf, practically forced Kirishima onto his team, seeking out others whose Quirks complemented his aggressive, aerial-based strategy. Todoroki, with the cold precision of a general, had already selected his pieces: Iida for speed, Yaoyorozu for defensive versatility, and Kaminari for wide-area control. His was a team built not for survival, but for absolute conquest.
Saitama, meanwhile, had found what he was looking for: a small, unassuming stall tucked away near the eastern gate, selling grilled teriyaki chicken skewers. The aroma was rich and sweet. He bought three and found an empty bench in a quiet corner of the public concourse, far from the frantic drama on the field. He took a bite. The chicken was juicy, the sauce was perfect. This, he thought, was what a festival was all about.
Back on the field, a lifeline appeared for Midoriya. "Let's team up, Deku-kun!" Ochaco Uraraka said, her expression bright and determined. She was not afraid of the points; she was driven by the simple, powerful logic of wanting to team up with her friend. Her offer was a beacon of light in Midoriya's sea of despair. Soon after, the strange, wonderful chaos of Mei Hatsume descended upon them, seeing Midoriya's high-profile status as the ultimate advertising opportunity for her "super cute babies." With the quiet, powerful addition of Fumikage Tokoyami and his sentient Quirk, Dark Shadow, their strange, ragtag team was formed.
As the final teams solidified, a new, minor chaos erupted from the sky. A news helicopter, eager for a dramatic, low-angle shot of the tense students, descended a little too aggressively. The powerful downdraft from its rotors kicked up a massive cloud of dust, loose grass, and discarded litter from a nearby trash can, sending the whirlwind of debris directly towards the spectator stands and the pristine competition field.
Saitama, sitting on his bench, saw the cloud of grit and garbage heading his way. His first and only thought was, "It's going to get in my teriyaki sauce."
This was an unacceptable outcome. Annoyed, he made a small, dismissive gesture with the hand not holding the skewer. It was a simple, casual wave, like shooing away a large fly. The gesture, however, generated a blade of invisible, high-pressure air. The air-knife didn't just stop the debris cloud; it caught it, reversed its trajectory, and sent the entire whirlwind of dust and trash hurtling back up at the offending helicopter. The pilot, suddenly hit by his own rotor wash and a storm of garbage, let out a panicked yell and swerved violently to avoid stalling, the aircraft wobbling dangerously before regaining altitude.
On the field, the students merely felt a brief, pleasant breeze that cleared the air. In the commentary box, Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "That pilot is a hazard. Get his license plate." Present Mic, having missed the entire event, just screamed, "LOOKS LIKE THE TEAMS ARE ALL SET, FOLKS! THE TENSION IS SO THICK YOU COULD CUT IT WITH A KNIFE!"
From his private observation deck, Principal Nezu lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. He took a calm sip of tea and made a mental note. The subject can manipulate significant volumes of air with minimal physical effort. All future aerial surveillance must maintain a minimum safe distance of five hundred meters.
The buzzer sounded, its shrill cry signaling the end of the prep time and the start of the battle. Midoriya, mounted on the shoulders of his teammates, looked out at the sea of predators, his expression a mask of grim resolve.
Saitama finished his second skewer. He decided the grilled corn on the cob looked pretty good, too.