Chapter 22: Cavalry, Chaos, and a Custodial Concern.
"LET THE CAVALRY BATTLE… BEGIN!"
The field erupted. As predicted, the initial moments were a frantic, desperate rush towards one target: Team Midoriya. It was a tidal wave of Quirks, a chaotic assault from all sides. But Midoriya's team was ready.
"It's time for my babies to shine!" Hatsume shrieked with glee, activating a dozen smoke-screen canisters and a hydraulic jump-booster system she had insisted they wear. With a hiss and a powerful thump, they were launched into the air, Uraraka's Quirk making them momentarily weightless as they soared above the initial fray, shrouded in a thick cloud of pink smoke.
"A brilliant opening move from the crafty Support Course student, Mei Hatsume!" Present Mic roared. "Team Midoriya takes to the skies!"
The battle quickly devolved into a multi-front skirmish. Neito Monoma of Class 1-B, a smug grin plastered on his face, executed his plan perfectly. He used his team as a distraction, circled around Team Bakugo, and with a casual tap, copied Bakugo's Quirk.
"So this is the famous Class 1-A? Doesn't seem like much," Monoma taunted, setting off a small, insulting pop in his palm. The psychological blow was more effective than any physical one. Bakugo's face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "YOU—!" he screamed, abandoning all strategy to chase the taunting blond.
Meanwhile, Team Todoroki moved with the cold, brutal efficiency of a glacier. Their approach was methodical. Yaoyorozu created an insulating sheet to protect them from Kaminari's electricity, which he then unleashed in a wide, stunning discharge, immobilizing several nearby teams. With a path cleared, Todoroki sent a massive wave of ice surging towards Team Midoriya's landing spot, intending to trap them.
This ice attack was monumental. It wasn't just a patch on the ground; it was a small mountain range, a jagged, glistening wall that not only covered the field but also surged up the inner stadium wall, freezing a huge section of concrete and steel nearly fifty rows high.
Saitama was on patrol in the upper public concourse. He had been given a new, urgent task: a child had dropped a sticky ice cream cone on the floor in Section J, and he was to clean it up before it attracted insects. As he walked, he felt a sudden, intense drop in temperature. He looked over the railing and saw the colossal ice formation creeping up the wall just a few dozen meters away from him. He watched, unimpressed, as the intense cold caused a large, decorative concrete panel—weighing several tons—to groan under the thermal stress. A large, ugly crack snaked across its surface.
Saitama's eyes followed the crack. He calculated the panel's likely trajectory if it fell. It would land directly on top of the stall selling the limited-edition All Might crepes.
He sighed. He liked those crepes. And the subsequent cleanup would be a nightmare.
He walked over to the groaning, cracking wall. He placed his right palm flat against the freezing concrete, then leaned against it with his shoulder, assuming a posture of utter, profound boredom. To anyone who happened to glance his way, he was just a staff member, slacking off, leaning against a wall and looking down at the battle below.
In reality, he was applying the exact amount of precise, continuous, and unimaginable counter-pressure required to negate the thermal stress on the multi-ton slab. He wasn't pushing it. He wasn't straining. He was simply… holding it together. He had become a human rebar, a living structural support, all to prevent a minor inconvenience.
Down on the field, the battle reached its frenzied climax. Dark Shadow fought off attackers with furious, shadowy claws. Iida, in a desperate, last-ditch move, unveiled his secret technique, the explosive speed of Recipro Burst, propelling their team across the field in a blur. They managed to snatch a headband from Team Todoroki just as the final buzzer sounded.
The stadium was a whirlwind of cheers, groans, and shouted analysis. The results were displayed on the giant screen. The drama was palpable.
Saitama, still leaning against the wall, looked down at the field, which was now a chaotic mess of melted ice, scorch marks, and exhausted students.
"They're really making a mess down there," he muttered to himself. The large concrete panel, its temperature now stabilizing, settled silently back into place.