Chapter 2: The Symphony of the Bouncing Belly.
The world shrank to the size of the alley. The scent of damp dumpsters and regret filled my nostrils. My heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs, and the beautiful, glorious image of spicy pork noodles had vanished, replaced by the glowing, hot knuckles of Kaito's fist.
"A future hero needs to take a punch," he sneered, his smile looking like a row of sharp little rocks.
Okay, Po. Think, I told myself, my thoughts racing like squirrels in a hurricane. What would All Might do? He'd smile! A big, confident smile!
I tried. I really did. I stretched my lips into what I hoped was a heroic grin, but it felt more like I'd just tasted a very sour lemon.
Kaito just laughed. "Pathetic."
He lunged forward, his fist a glowing orange blur aimed right at my face. I did the only thing a sensible, terrified panda could do. I flinched. Hard. I squeezed my eyes shut and tucked my head down, a reflexive move that left my big, soft belly exposed like a giant bullseye. I braced for the impact, for the pain, for the world to go sideways.
It didn't.
What I felt was a dull, springy thump. What I heard was a sound I'll never forget. It wasn't the crack of a punch landing. It was a deep, resonant TWANG! like someone had just plucked the string of a giant, meaty cello.
My eyes snapped open. Kaito was staggering backward, not from the force of his blow, but from the recoil. His own glowing fist, launched by my trampoline-like stomach, had rebounded on its exact path and smacked him square in his own nose. There was a wet thwack. He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, a single, perfect drop of red welling from his nostril, then another.
My internal monologue short-circuited. Did... did my tummy just punch him in the face? With his own hand?
Before I could process this miracle of physics, the second guy, Hebi, hissed. "You'll pay for that, fluffball!" A thick, scaly tail, muscular and green like a python, shot out from the base of his spine—his Quirk, "Snake Tail." It whipped through the air and wrapped around my neck, tightening instantly.
Air. I needed air. My paws scrabbled uselessly at the tightening coil. Black spots danced in my vision. Hebi was grinning, his face triumphant as he pulled the tail tighter. Panicked and losing my footing, my body did the only thing it could do. I began to fall. Forward.
Right on top of him.
Hebi's triumphant grin vanished, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. He was standing right in front of me, holding the end of his tail. He had a split second to realize that a mountain was about to fall on him, and he was the mountain's only landing pad.
CRUNCH.
The sound was sickening, a wet crack of cartilage and bone that seemed to echo off the alley walls. All 120 kilos of me landed squarely on his much smaller frame. The snake tail around my neck went instantly limp. I gasped, sucking in a huge, ragged breath of glorious, garbage-scented air. I scrambled off him, my lungs burning. Hebi was left wheezing on the concrete, curled into a ball, moaning.
I stood there, panting, my mind a complete blank. Two down. One on the ground clutching a gushing nosebleed. The other looking like he'd just been run over. I glanced from my left to my right. There was still one left. The big guy, Goro. He was just standing there, his jaw hanging open, looking at the absolute carnage his friends had become.
And then, something snapped inside me. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the near-death-by-tail experience. Or maybe it was all the old Kung Fu movies I'd watched with my grandpa. I didn't think. I just acted.
My body twisted into what I thought was a formidable martial arts stance—it probably looked more like a baby flamingo trying to stand up for the first time. I raised my paws into clumsy claws. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and from the very bottom of my belly, I let out a cry that was meant to be terrifying, but came out as a high-pitched, warbling...
"Waaaa-taaaaaah!"
Goro froze. He looked at Kaito bleeding on the ground. He looked at Hebi, who was still trying to remember how to breathe. Then he looked at me, the giant, screaming panda in a wobbly karate pose.
He made a sound that was half-scream, half-sob, turned, and ran for his life.
The silence he left behind was deafening. I held my ridiculous pose for another second before my entire body sagged in relief. I let out a long sigh that fluttered my lips. It worked. It actually worked!
"Coward!" Kaito seethed from his spot on the ground, holding his nose. He glared at me, his eyes promising revenge. "This isn't over, you walking carpet!"
I was about to offer him a tissue when a new sound cut through the air.
A slow, deliberate clap.
My blood ran cold. I turned toward the deeper shadows of the alley, and a small figure stepped into the fading light. It was my teacher, Sensei Akai. His face was perfectly calm, his eyes sharp and analytical as they swept across the scene. He took in Kaito's bloody nose, Hebi's pained groans, and my own awkward, guilt-ridden stance.
He stopped clapping and tilted his head, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"Rebounding fists, body-slams, and a formidable battle cry," he said, his voice quiet but carrying clearly through the alley. "A most... unorthodox curriculum."