Everyone turned to look at one another, the classroom buzzing with surprise and excitement. Most of them hadn't even heard about this tournament before—another secret of the hero world, tucked away behind the flashier events like the Sports Festival.
Snipe adjusted his hat and continued, his calm drawl somehow making the revelation sound even more dramatic.
"Every year," he explained, "students from second to fourth year compete in a large-scale tournament. The event's structured around a point system that ranks each participant based on their performance. The top three are awarded special titles according to their feats—and those titles carry weight, even after graduation."
He paused, letting the information settle in. Eyes widened across the room.
"But," he went on, "there's a catch."
A few students leaned forward, waiting.
"To earn the title, it's not enough to just score high in the rankings. You also need to defeat the current champions—directly. Doesn't matter if it's one, two, or three of them. You want their title? You fight for it."
A soft wave of disbelief spread across the room.
"So yeah," Snipe said, almost chuckling under his mask. "It's not exactly designed for second-years to win. The goal's to prove yourselves—to test how far you've come since first year. Most champions are third- or fourth-years. It's rare for a second-year to win the title, but it's happened before."
The titles, he explained, were symbolic—earned through power, teamwork, or overwhelming performance. They changed every year, often becoming part of hero history itself. The current title holders were known across U.A. as The Dynamic Two, undefeated since their second year.
That name alone was enough to set the class whispering.
"And before you ask," Snipe continued, raising a hand, "there's only one requirement to join: your homeroom teacher has to recommend you. If they don't think you're ready, you can't compete. Some students go their whole four years without getting in."
That earned a few worried glances. But the concern vanished the moment Snipe smiled under his mask—a rare sight, visible only through the slight shift in his voice.
"Lucky for you," he said, "I've already submitted your names."
A collective gasp filled the room.
"You mean—?!" someone blurted.
"Yup," Snipe confirmed, crossing his arms. "Every single one of you is in. The director approved it this morning. And it's the same for 2-B. We decided both classes have shown enough potential to stand against the upper years."
Cheers broke out instantly. Students high-fived, laughed, shouted over each other in disbelief. The thought of fighting third- and fourth-years—the strongest in the school—was terrifying but thrilling all the same.
Through the noise, Snipe's voice cut in again—steady, but with a faint chuckle.
"Don't get cocky, kids," he warned. "I said you'll challenge them—not that you'll win. The upper years are on another level. Remember that before you start celebrating too hard."
That quieted them a little—but not enough to erase the spark in their eyes.
Snipe chuckled under his mask, clearly expecting that question. He lifted a hand to calm the rising chatter.
"And before any of you start planning excuses to skip class—don't. During the two weeks of the tournament, all regular classes will be suspended."
The room erupted again—half cheering, half panicking.
Snipe clapped his hands sharply, the echo cutting through the noise.
"Hold it, hold it! Don't celebrate too fast. You'll still have morning drills, hero evaluations, and briefing sessions each day. You'll just be living, breathing, and competing full-time for two straight weeks. Think of it like… a training camp with fewer rules and way more chaos."
The class quieted—mostly because of that last word.
"Now," Snipe continued, "as I said, the theme this year is games. You'll all wear digital watches synced to the school's network. Every match, every challenge, every point will be tracked through those devices. The first stage will last fourteen days—you'll rest on weekends—but any time, day or night, your watch might ping. That means a game has started."
He paused for effect.
"The type of game, its location, and its rank will show on your device. You'll have a short window to accept or refuse. Once you accept, you've got to move fast—some games only last minutes, others might take hours. And yes," he added, "you could be called in the middle of the night."
That earned a few groans and nervous laughs.
"As for the structure," Snipe went on, tapping his hat, "each student will get a guaranteed number of assigned matches:
12 C-rank games worth 3 points each.
6 B-rank games worth 12 points each.
3 A-rank games worth 36 points each."
He paused again, letting the math sink in.
"But those are only the assigned ones. Around campus, hidden across zones, will be optional challenges—most of them team-based, harder, and worth a lot more points. They'll appear at random times. Think scavenger hunts, tactical games, hero simulations, capture-the-flag, even survival scenarios. If you find one and join, you can earn bonus points—or lose some, depending on the outcome."
At this, murmurs started rising again. A few students looked thrilled, others horrified.
"So basically," said Raiden under his breath, "it's a school-wide game of war that lasts two weeks."
Snipe nodded as if he'd heard him. "That's one way to put it."
Then Mirio raised his hand again, grinning from ear to ear.
"Sensei, what happens if our game starts right in the middle of something important? Like, say, we're eating or sleeping?"
Snipe tilted his head slightly.
"Then," he said with a dry laugh, "you'd better learn to multitask, Togata. The watch doesn't care if you're asleep, training, or in the shower. Once the alert hits, it's your call. Accept, and you play. Refuse, and you lose your chance for those points."
A collective "Ehhhhh?!" echoed through the classroom.
Snipe just chuckled again.
"Welcome to the real hero world, kids. Heroes don't get to choose when the alarm rings."
Snipe hummed thoughtfully and nodded. "So, for the next two and a half weeks, Your only focus will be the first stage of the tournament."
The room exploded with chatter again. Before anyone could calm down, Nejire shot her hand up, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Ne~e, teacher!" she called. "What about the second phase? And how many stages are there in total?"
Snipe chuckled softly under his mask. "Can't tell you what the second phase will be," he said, leaning against the desk, "but I can tell you how many there are—three stages total. Each one shorter than the last, and each one harder."
He straightened up and clapped his hands once.
"And the first stage? It starts now."
A collective silence fell over the class.
"You heard me," Snipe continued. "No more classes. From this moment forward, you're officially in the tournament. Feel free to explore campus—but remember, once your watches activate, the games begin."
With that, he tipped his hat, turned, and walked out, leaving the room in stunned silence.
For a long moment, no one said a word. Then Hana finally sighed and crossed her arms.
"U.A. always does this," she muttered. "They never tell us anything until we're already in the middle of it."
Rei leaned back in his chair, nodding with a weary smile.
"Yeah, I think they're just trying to make us get used to the unexpected," he said. "Honestly, at this point, nothing surprises me anymore. When he said it starts now, my first thought was—'of course it does.'"
At that moment, a soft ping broke the silence.
On every desk, a small square of light shimmered into existence. One by one, watches appeared—sleek, black, and familiar. Smartwatches, similar to those used during the island test, though with slightly larger screens and glowing trims around the edges.
Raiden glanced at his, then casually lifted it from the desk using telekinesis. The device floated toward him, spinning slowly in the air as the faint blue light from his eyes reflected on its surface.
"Well," he said, his tone carrying a spark of excitement. "Guess we better start exploring the campus."
He slipped the watch onto his wrist and stood. With a flick of his hand, the nearest window clicked open under a pulse of telekinetic force. Now that his horns were permanently part of him, even his human form had grown stronger—his control sharper, his power more fluid.
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the ledge, grinning faintly.
Then he jumped.
In midair, his body shimmered. In an instant, Mewtwo soared above the school grounds, the morning sunlight gleaming off his smooth, gray fur.
From below, several students shouted as he passed overhead, a blur of psychic energy cutting through the air.
Moments later, two familiar figures joined him—Nejire, floating effortlessly on waves of energy, her hair spiraling behind her like a comet tail, and Tamaki, moving through the air using the wings of a hawk.
The three exchanged quick glances, their expressions equal parts thrill and focus.
Below them, movement caught their eyes—Mirio, sprinting across the courtyards, phasing through walls and obstacles as he scanned every building, looking for something.
And he wasn't alone.
Across the campus, dozens of students from different years were already in motion—searching, climbing, scanning their watches for hints. The optional games had already begun, hidden across the sprawling grounds.
Whoever found one first would have the advantage.
Raiden smiled slightly, the wind rushing around him.
"So it begins," he muttered, his voice calm but charged with anticipation.
The first stage of the U.A. Tournament had officially started.
Raiden analyzed the situation carefully.
'If I were the director,' he thought, scanning the vast U.A. grounds from above, 'where would I hide the games? No—first, how many could I even make if I were him? Enough to give every student a fair shot, obviously… which means they'd have to be everywhere.'
He looked down at the maze-like sprawl of the campus—the stadiums, the training zones, the dorms, the forests, and even the smaller annex buildings connected by tunnels.
'If that's the case,' he continued, eyes narrowing, 'then the director wouldn't make them easy to find. He'd scatter them in the strangest places possible—somewhere no one would think to look. Maybe even places we're not supposed to go.'
Raiden's tail flicked behind him as he hovered midair.
'And the type of games… they might involve hero work—rescue drills, survival, combat, maybe—but knowing the director, it's never that simple. He likes surprises… the kind that mess with your head.'
As he thought, a sudden beep broke his focus.
He turned just in time to see Nejire's watch flash blue. A calm, robotic voice came from it:
"Student Nejire Hado, please proceed to B-Stadium. Your first game will begin. Rank: B. Accept or reject."
Her eyes widened with excitement.
"Wooah! First one!" she said, nearly vibrating in midair.
Both Tamaki and Raiden turned toward her, surprised.
Nejire grinned, hovering higher. "Of course I'm accepting!"
She pressed the side of her watch, and with a burst of spiraling energy, she shot off toward B-Stadium, leaving a trail of blue light behind.
Raiden watched her disappear for a moment before feeling his own watch vibrate—and then Tamaki's too. Both glowed bright.
"Students Suneater and Mewtwo, please proceed to the Teachers' Hall. Your first game will begin. Rank: C. Accept or reject."
Tamaki sighed, pushing his bangs from his face. "Figures they'd pair us together."
Raiden smirked faintly. "At least it's not a night mission."
He pressed accept on his watch.
"Let's go. No point wasting time."
Tamaki nodded silently, and in the next instant, both heroes-in-training took off—gliding above the rooftops, heading straight for the Teachers' Hall where their first challenge awaited.