The morning after the Battle Trial, my body felt less like a human being and more like a piece of chewed-up bubblegum that had been left out in the sun and then stepped on.
I sat on the edge of my bed in the orphanage, staring at my hands. They were trembling with a low, rhythmic frequency. Every time I tried to clench my fist, the skin felt loose, as if the connection between my brain and my muscles was being transmitted through a lagging internet connection. This was the "Slack."
I had pushed the "Overdrive" prototype too far. By forcing my molecules to vibrate at high speeds to generate heat against Todoroki's ice, I had temporarily disrupted my "Elastic Memory"—the biological blueprint that told my cells to snap back to their original shape.
"Kota? Breakfast is ready," Miwa called through the door.
"Coming," I grunted. I stood up, and for a terrifying second, my knees didn't lock. They just... bowed outward. I looked like a cartoon character whose legs had turned into wet noodles. I had to concentrate, manualizing the tension in my thighs just to stay upright.
This is the bottleneck, I thought, leaning against the wall. I have the durability of rubber, but I don't have the engine to sustain high-tier combat yet. If I want to reach the level of the 'Gears,' I can't just be stretchy. I have to be strong.
I managed to stabilize myself and head downstairs. I ate four bowls of rice and a plate of eggs, much to Ms. Minami's shock. The metabolic cost of my Quirk was becoming a logistical problem for the orphanage's budget. I'd have to find a way to make some money soon—maybe look into those U.A. work-study stipends I'd heard about.
Walking into Class 1-A that morning felt different. The initial "getting to know you" phase was over; now, the hierarchies were starting to solidify. I saw Bakugo sitting in the back, staring at his desk with a look of pure, unadulterated venom. He had lost to Midoriya yesterday—a crushing blow to his ego.
Todoroki was in his usual spot, looking out the window, his expression as cold as the ice he'd used to try and bury me.
"Sora-kun! Good morning!"
I turned to see Midoriya waving at me. His arm was in a heavy sling, and his face was dotted with small bandages, but his eyes were bright. Standing next to him were Uraraka and Iida.
"Morning, Midoriya. How's the arm?" I asked, taking my seat.
"Recovery Girl said it'll take a few days, but I'm okay," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Sora-kun... the way you fought Todoroki-kun. I was watching the monitor. That heat technique... was that an application of friction-based thermal dynamics?"
He had his notebook out. Of course he did.
"Something like that," I said, leaning back. The chair groaned under me as I accidentally let my weight sag too much. "My body is a polymer. If I can increase the vibration of my cells, I generate heat. But it's risky. If I get too hot, I melt. If I stay too cold, I snap."
"Fascinating," Midoriya muttered, his pen blurred as he scribbled. "A temperature-dependent Quirk masquerading as a physical mutation. That means your combat effectiveness is tied directly to your environment and your cardiovascular stamina..."
"He's right, you know," Iida said, stepping forward with his usual rigid posture. "Your performance yesterday was commendable, Sora-kun! Your tactical retreat and use of Asui-san as the primary objective-taker was a masterclass in teamwork! It was much more 'heroic' than Bakugo's reckless pursuit of combat."
"Thanks, Iida. But a win is a win. We just got lucky that Todoroki is a bit of a lone wolf," I replied.
The door slid open, and Shota Aizawa shuffled in. He looked even more tired than usual, if that was possible. He tossed a stack of papers onto the podium.
"Good work on yesterday's combat training," he said, his eyes scanning the room. "I saw the videos and the scores. Bakugo, stop acting like a child. You have talent, don't waste it on pouting. Midoriya, you broke your arm again. If you can't control your Quirk, you'll never be more than a liability."
He turned his gaze toward me. "Sora. You demonstrated good tactical thinking, but your physical conditioning is lagging behind your ambition. If you're going to use 'suicidal' heat bursts, make sure you can actually walk afterward. I saw you hobbling to the bus."
I felt a sting of embarrassment. He was right. My "cool" exit from the building had been a lie; I'd barely made it to the locker room.
"Now, onto homeroom business," Aizawa said, his voice dropping to a droning tone. "Sorry for the short notice, but today... we need to pick a class representative."
The room exploded.
"PICK ME! I WANT TO BE REP!" Kirishima shouted, his hand shooting up.
"I'll do it! I'll make the girls' uniforms shorter!" Mineta squealed, only to be silenced by a dirty look from Tsuyu.
"It should be someone with a flashy Quirk!" Aoyama added, sparkling at nothing in particular.
I stayed silent. In my old life, I'd been a middle manager. I knew exactly what "leadership" meant: paperwork, mediation, and being the first person people blamed when things went wrong. I wanted no part of it. I needed every spare second to train my body, not to organize class trips.
"Silence!" Iida roared, his voice cutting through the noise. "This is a position of immense responsibility! It is the duty of the representative to lead the class toward the path of excellence! We should decide this through a fair, democratic vote!"
"It's only been a few days! Nobody trusts each other yet!" Kaminari pointed out.
"Which is exactly why whoever gets multiple votes will truly be the one we trust!" Iida argued.
Aizawa crawled into his sleeping bag. "I don't care how you do it, just have it done by the time I wake up."
We passed out scraps of paper. I didn't even hesitate. I wrote down Iida Tenya. He was the only one who actually wanted the job for the right reasons.
When the results were tallied on the board, the room went quiet.
1. Midoriya Izuku: 3 votes
2. Yaoyorozu Momo: 2 votes
3. Kota Sora: 2 votes
I stared at the two marks next to my name. Who the hell voted for me? I looked around. Tsuyu gave me a small nod—likely a thank-you for the strategy yesterday. The other vote? I had no clue. Maybe Shoji? He seemed like the type to respect tactical thinking.
Midoriya was standing at the front, shaking like a leaf. "I... I'm the rep?"
"And Yaoyorozu is the deputy," Aizawa said, peeking out from his bag. "Sora, since you tied for second, you'll be the 'Tactical Liaison' for class exercises. It's a non-voting role, but you'll be expected to assist in planning. Now, leave me alone."
I sighed. I hadn't escaped entirely.
Lunchtime at the U.A. cafeteria was an experience in itself. The "Lunch Rush" hero served world-class food at student prices. I was currently staring down a triple-portion of beef bowl, trying to ignore the way my stomach felt like an empty pit.
I sat with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida. The "Deku Squad" was officially forming, and I had been dragged into the orbit.
"I'm so nervous," Midoriya said, poking at his rice. "I don't think I'm right for the rep position. Iida-kun, you were so much more passionate about it."
"You were the one who acted when it mattered," Iida said, though he was clearly disappointed. He was eating his food with surgical precision. "The votes reflect the class's belief in your heart, Midoriya-kun."
"I voted for you, Iida," I said, shoveled a massive spoonful of beef into my mouth. I didn't bother chewing much; my rubberized throat could handle it. "You've got the head for it. Midoriya has the heart. But you've got the rules."
"Thank you, Sora-kun!" Iida said, looking touched. "But as the Tactical Liaison, you must also—"
Suddenly, a loud, jarring siren blared through the cafeteria.
WARNING. LEVEL 3 SECURITY BREACH. ALL STUDENTS PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.
The cafeteria descended into chaos. Third-years, second-years, and freshmen all surged toward the exits at once. It was a stampede. People were being shoved, stepped on, and crushed against the glass walls.
"What's a Level 3 breach?" Uraraka cried, clinging to the table.
"It means someone has infiltrated the school grounds!" Iida shouted.
I stood up, my eyes scanning the crowd. This was wrong. U.A. was a fortress. How could anyone just walk in? I looked toward the windows that faced the main gate. Far below, I saw a swarm of people.
"It's not villains," I said, my voice projecting over the screams. "Look!"
I pointed. The "intruders" were holding cameras and microphones. It was the media. They had been hounding the gates all morning, trying to get a quote about All Might teaching at the school. Someone must have accidentally—or intentionally—tripped the alarm.
But the crowd didn't hear me. The panic was self-sustaining now. I saw a younger student get knocked down near the door.
"Iida! Do something!" I yelled. "You're the one they'll listen to!"
Iida looked at the chaos, his eyes wide. He looked at the exit, then at me. I saw the gears turning. He didn't have a megaphone, and he wasn't tall enough to be seen.
"Uraraka! Make him float!" I commanded.
She didn't hesitate. She touched Iida, and he drifted into the air.
"Sora-kun! Catch him!"
I reached out, my arms stretching like long, grey cables. I grabbed Iida's waist and his ankles, and then I grabbed the emergency exit sign above the door.
"Gommu Gommu no... SLINGSHOT!"
I didn't launch him away; I pulled myself and him up, pinning us both against the wall above the crowd. Iida was now the highest point in the room, positioned perfectly above the sea of panicked students.
"Iida! Now!"
Iida took a deep breath. He looked like an engine revving up. "EVERYONE, CALM DOWN!"
His voice, reinforced by his discipline and the height I'd given him, boomed across the cafeteria. The students froze, looking up at the floating boy being held by the rubber man.
"IT IS JUST THE MEDIA! THERE IS NO DANGER! WE ARE STUDENTS OF U.A.! LET US ACT WITH THE DIGNITY BEFITTING THIS ACADEMY!"
The silence that followed was heavy. The panic evaporated as quickly as it had formed. The students looked at each other, embarrassed, and began to move in an orderly fashion.
I slowly lowered Iida back to the ground as Uraraka released her Quirk. I retracted my arms, the rubber snapping back into place with a satisfying thwack. My shoulders felt a bit sore, but the "Slack" from this morning was finally gone. The movement had helped reset my tension.
"Nice work, Iida," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "That was the rep we needed."
Later that afternoon, back in the classroom, Midoriya stood up.
"I've made a decision," he said, his voice much more confident than before. "I think... Iida-kun should be the class representative. He was the one who managed to lead us today. He's the one who fits the role."
The class agreed unanimously. Iida stood up, his face red with emotion, promising to serve the class with everything he had.
As the excitement died down, Aizawa stood at the podium. "Now that you've finished playing politics, we have something more important. For today's Hero Basic Training, it'll be a three-person team, supervised by myself, All Might, and one other."
"Supervised by three?" Asui asked. "Is it a special trial?"
Aizawa held up a card. RESCUE.
"Disasters, shipwrecks, and everything in between," Aizawa said. "It's time to see if you can actually save people, or if you're just good at hitting things. Get your costumes. The bus is waiting."
As the class scrambled to get their gear, I felt a knot form in my stomach.
I knew this arc. This wasn't just a rescue trial. This was the USJ Incident.
The "Media Breach" at lunch hadn't been an accident. In the anime, that was the moment Shigaraki Tomura had turned the gate to dust, stealing the faculty schedule.
I looked at my hands. I was still recovering. My "Overdrive" was unreliable. My "Gatling" was limited. And we were about to go into a war zone against a creature—the Nomu—that was specifically designed to kill the Symbol of Peace.
15 Chapters for Arc 1, I thought. We're on Chapter 8. The foundation is laid. Now comes the first true test of durability.
I followed the class out to the bus. As I passed the school gates, I glanced at the side where the heavy steel barrier had been. There was a faint pile of grey dust on the concrete.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I wasn't a hero yet. I was just a kid made of rubber. But as I climbed onto the bus and sat next to Tsuyu and Kirishima, I realized that "ready" or not, the story didn't care.
"You okay, Sora-kun?" Tsuyu asked, her head tilted. "You're looking a bit... stretched thin."
"I'm fine, Tsu," I said, leaning my head against the window. I felt the familiar creak of my neck as I adjusted my posture. "Just thinking about physics. For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction, right?"
"Ribbit?"
"If the villains are coming," I whispered to myself, "the snap-back is going to be hell."