Chapter 25: The Siege of Rumors
The oppressive, suffocating gloom that had anchored Class 1-A to their desks evaporated the moment Shota Aizawa finished his announcement.
It was as if a heavy curtain had been pulled back, letting the bright, chaotic energy of youth flood back into the room. The lingering trauma of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint was momentarily pushed aside, replaced by the dazzling, high-stakes promise of the U.A. Sports Festival.
Eijiro Kirishima slammed his hardened fists together, a wide grin breaking across his face. "This is what school is all about! A real chance to show the whole country what we are made of. We can't let a bunch of thugs keep us down!"
Ochaco Uraraka jumped up from her seat, her cheeks flushed with intense determination. She pumped both of her fists in the air, her voice ringing with newfound motivation. "I am going to do my absolute best! If the top agencies are watching, I have to stand out and prove I can be a valuable asset!"
"Man, I was just fearing for my life yesterday," Denki Kaminari chuckled nervously, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his blonde hair. "But thinking about all those pro heroes watching us on live television... I'm actually getting fired up. This is our high school debut!"
Mina Ashido nodded enthusiastically, leaning over her desk. "Exactly! We survived a real villain attack. That means we already have combat experience. We just need to channel that into the festival!"
In the back row, Sakazuki sat quietly, observing the sudden eruption of cheer.
He did not look down on their excitement, nor did he find their sudden shift in mood childish. In reality, his fundamental perspective aligned perfectly with theirs. They all shared the exact same objective: to be noticed, to be recruited, and to secure a future. The only difference was the weight of the stakes. For his classmates, this was a vital step toward realizing a lifelong dream. For Sakazuki, it was a ruthless job fair. It was the only viable path to securing the financial capital required to pull his mother out of a life of exhausting labor.
A sharp, stabbing sensation flared in his chest as he shifted his weight. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to remain shallow and even. The medical braces hidden beneath his unbuttoned collar squeezed his fractured ribs tightly. His current physical vessel was fragile. He had the lethal firepower of a volcano, but the endurance of fragile glass. To win this festival and dominate the attention of the top agencies, he needed to spend the next two weeks pushing his raw physical strength to its absolute limit, without relying on his quirk.
The shrill ringing of the final bell echoed through the school, signaling the end of the day.
The students of Class 1-A immediately began packing their bags, the animated chatter about tournament strategies and training regimens continuing to bounce around the room. Uraraka swung her backpack over her shoulder and happily slid the classroom door open, ready to head to the station.
She stopped dead in her tracks. "Uh... why are there so many people?"
A massive, dense crowd of students was gathered in the hallway, completely blocking the exit. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a wall of unfamiliar faces from the General Studies, Support, and Business courses, along with several members of Class 1-B. They were not smiling. They stared into the classroom with a mixture of intense curiosity, burning jealousy, and unspoken challenge.
Minoru Mineta squeaked, instinctively hiding behind Kirishima's broad back. "What is going on? Are they here to ambush us?"
Katsuki Bakugo shoved his hands deep into his pockets and pushed his way to the front of the classroom. He glared at the blockade, his signature scowl deepening into a look of pure contempt.
"They are scouting the enemy, you idiots," Bakugo scoffed, his abrasive voice carrying easily into the corridor. "We are the class that survived a real villain attack. They want to see what the big deal is before the festival. Now that you've had a look, move aside, cannon fodder."
The aggressive insult caused a ripple of irritation to pass through the gathered crowd.
Before the tension could escalate into a shouting match, a tall boy with messy, gravity-defying purple hair pushed his way to the front of the mob. Hitoshi Shinso looked at Bakugo with half-lidded, tired eyes, scratching the back of his neck lazily.
"I came to see what the famous Class A looked like," Shinso said, his tone flat and unimpressed. "But you just seem rather arrogant. There are a lot of kids enrolled in General Studies who failed the hero course exam. The school left us a chance, though. Based on the results of the Sports Festival, they will consider transferring people into the hero course. And it works the other way around, too."
Shinso stepped closer to the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the students inside. "I didn't come here to make friends. I came to declare war."
A tense silence fell over the front of the classroom. Bakugo simply narrowed his eyes, unfazed by the threat.
"Plus," Shinso added, a hint of genuine amusement creeping into his tired voice, "we wanted to see if the ridiculous stories were true. There is a rumor going around the cafeteria that some first-year here took on a giant, engineered monster all by himself and turned it to ash."
The moment the words left his mouth, the hallway erupted.
Loud, mocking laughter bounced off the lockers. The students from the other departments shook their heads, dismissing the very concept as a desperate exaggeration.
"A first-year? As if!" a boy from the Support course yelled, wiping a tear from his eye.
"The teachers probably did all the heavy lifting, and the kids are just taking the credit to look tough!" a girl from Class 1-B chimed in, laughing along with her friends. "No way a teenager could melt a giant monster. People will believe anything these days!"
The crowd continued to chuckle, finding the rumor entirely absurd.
However, inside Class 1-A, nobody was laughing.
The silence among the hero course students was sudden and heavy. Mina, Kaminari, and Sero exchanged nervous glances. Tsuyu stared blankly at the floor. Instinctively, almost as if pulled by a magnetic force, several pairs of eyes drifted toward the back row of the classroom.
Sakazuki stood up.
He slung his worn bag over his shoulder. His movements were slow, deliberate, and clearly burdened by the injuries he sustained the day before. The thick white bandages wrapped securely around his head stood out starkly against his dark hair, and the stiff outline of the medical braces was faintly visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He began to walk down the aisle. He did not ask anyone to move. He did not emit a terrifying aura or try to intimidate his peers. Yet, as he approached, his classmates naturally parted ways, stepping aside with a quiet, ingrained respect to leave the center path completely clear for him.
Sakazuki stopped right at the threshold of the door, standing taller than Bakugo and Shinso. He looked out at the sea of laughing faces in the hallway. His gaze was not angry, but immensely tired and thoroughly practical. He just wanted to go home and rest his aching bones.
The laughter outside began to falter as the students noticed the imposing, heavily bandaged teenager standing before them.
"Festivals are won through physical training and focus," Sakazuki spoke. His voice was rough, a low rumble that easily cut through the fading murmurs of the crowd. "Not by staring at others and gathering information. If you came here to measure the validity of a rumor, you are wasting your own preparation time."
The blunt, unromantic advice hung in the air. The sheer weight of his presence, combined with the visible, brutal evidence of a recent, violent battle on his body, made several students in the front row take an involuntary step backward.
Before the crowd could fully disperse, a smooth, highly condescending voice drifted from the middle of the pack.
"No doubt your brain is full of muscles, just like your body."
A boy with sleek blonde hair parted neatly to the side pushed his way through the hesitant crowd. Neito Monoma stopped a few feet away, a provocatively arrogant smirk plastered across his face. He looked Sakazuki up and down, noting the bandages with a critical eye.
The entire hallway watched in silence, waiting to see what the blonde student from Class 1-B was doing.
Monoma chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Only a fool fights someone he knows nothing about. Gathering information on your opponents is a fundamental step to securing victory in any competition. Isn't that right..."
Monoma paused, his smirk widening as he locked eyes with the tall, stoic teenager.
"...Magma Boy?"
The remaining silence in the corridor shattered.
The mocking laughter from moments ago was instantly replaced by a wave of pure, unfiltered shock. The students from the other classes stared wide-eyed at Sakazuki. They looked at the heavy bandages. They looked at the respectful, slightly fearful distance his own classmates kept from him. The pieces rapidly clicked together in their minds.
The rumor wasn't an exaggeration. The person who had supposedly incinerated a biological nightmare was standing right in front of them, looking at them like they were nothing more than a minor inconvenience on his way to the train station.
Whispers erupted violently through the hallway, spreading like wildfire among the gathered teenagers.
"Wait... is he serious?"
"Look at his bandages... he actually fought..."
"That's the guy? This is the Magma Boy?"
Standing in the center of the sudden storm of awe and fear, Sakazuki simply adjusted the strap of his bag, his face an unreadable mask of stone.