(Kenjiro's POV – First Person)
The moment Midnight flashed that wicked grin of hers, I knew we were in for trouble.
"Congratulations, my little heroes!" she purred, cracking her whip for emphasis. "But the festival is far from over! Your next challenge—" The screen behind her lit up with bold letters: CAVALRY BATTLE.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Teams? Headbands? Points?
Then the rankings appeared.
1st Place: Sasaki Kenjiro – 10,000,000 Points.
A beat of silence.
Then chaos.
Every single pair of eyes in that stadium locked onto me like I was a golden ticket.
Well. Shit.
Midnight's explanation was simple:
Teams of 2-4.
Steal headbands to win.
Your team's total points = sum of your members' placements.
And then the kicker—
"The higher your rank, the bigger your target!" She winked. "So~, our dear first-place winner is worth ten million points!"
The other students' faces morphed into something between awe and bloodlust.
"If we take him down, we win automatically!" someone yelled.
"He's basically the final boss!"
I crossed my arms, scanning the crowd. Bakugo's grin was feral. Todoroki's stare was calculating. Even Izuku was muttering up a storm, fingers twitching like he was already strategizing.
Great. Everyone wants a piece of me.
Fifteen minutes to form teams.
Normally, I'd pick Izuku—smart, adaptable, and damn near impossible to knock out. But with ten million on the line? He'd be a liability. Too many vultures circling.
Nejire wasn't an option; third-years weren't allowed.
Kirishima? Solid, but not enough firepower.
Then it hit me.
Why play fair?
I strode up to Midnight, ignoring the way the crowd hushed around me.
"Question," I said, smirking. "Are clones allowed?"
Silence.
Midnight blinked. "Clones?"
"Yeah. Like, if my Quirk can make them. That legal?"
She hesitated, then pulled out her earpiece. "Nezu, we've got a situation."
A pause. A staticky reply.
Then Midnight sighed. "President Nezu says… as long as the clones are your Quirk's doing, it's allowed."
My grin widened.
Game over.
The moment the announcement hit, the stadium erupted.
"HE CAN WHAT?!" Kaminari screeched.
"That's bullshit!" Bakugo roared.
Todoroki's eye twitched. "…Cheating."
Izuku, ever the analyst, started scribbling in his notebook. "If he forms a team of himself, he doesn't have to split points or worry about coordination—it's genius—"
Nejire, watching from the stands, cackled. "THAT'S MY—uh, I MEAN, THAT'S *CLASS 1-A'S* REP FOR YOU!"
Aiko, perched on Mrs. Tanaka's shoulders, pumped her fists. "KENJIRO'S GONNA WIN WITH HIMSELF!"
Fifteen minutes later, I stood alone in the arena.
Well. Not quite alone.
Three mochi clones materialized beside me, each an exact replica—same smirk, same stance, same attitude.
"Alright, listen up," I said, cracking my knuckles. "We're not just winning this. We're humiliating them."
The clones grinned.
"Hell yeah."
"About time we stopped holding back."
"Let's wreck some egos."
The crowd's noise faded into background static as the countdown began.
3… 2… 1…
Midnight's whip snapped.
"BEGIN!"
And just like that—
War.
The second Midnight's whip cracked, the arena ignited like someone had doused the place in gasoline and lit a match.
Every single team turned toward me.
Ten million points.
Ten million reasons to forget every other objective.
They looked at me like I was meat on the chopping block, just begging to be carved up.
I cracked my neck, grinned at the approaching chaos, and whispered to the three mochi clones flanking me.
"Alright, boys. Let's make some dreams die screaming."
They grinned back—my grin. Same eyes. Same unhinged joy.
The sky above us was clear for now. The crowd, though? Thunderous.
The first hit came from the steel-headed juggernauts.
"Tetsutetsu! Go now!"
That was Juzo Honenuki—Team Tetsutetsu's secret weapon. Kid looked like he chewed rocks for breakfast and smiled about it.
A moment later, he slammed both palms into the concrete like he was blessing it.
The earth beneath us liquefied instantly, concrete melting into some kind of sludge. His Softening Quirk in full swing.
A cheap shot. Predictable. But annoying as hell.
"Mochi Trampoline!"
The command barely left my mouth before all four of us—me and the clones—popped into the air like we'd been launched from invisible catapults.
The ground we'd been standing on gurgled like it was swallowing itself.
Too slow, boys.
The crowd roared again as we hung there midair, the ten-million-point crown on my head gleaming like bait.
Then came the boom.
"DIE, MOCHI FREAK!"
Explosions.
Of course it was Bakugo.
He rocketed up from the chaos below like an angry meteor, explosions pushing him faster, harder, right at me. Murder blazed in his eyes like it was personal.
Maybe it was.
But me? I didn't flinch.
"Mochi Hydra."
My spine split with a wet squelch. Four massive serpentine limbs erupted from my back—coiling, writhing, hungry for violence.
Each one moved independently, like they had minds of their own.
The first slammed into Bakugo mid-air, sending him spiraling sideways with a grunt.
The second struck Team Jiro as they tried to flank from the right—knocking Jiro and her sound-cannon headset straight into a barricade.
The third? Oh, that one was a beauty. It lashed out and snatched a headband clean off Team Rin's lead. Poor guy didn't even realize what hit him until the crowd gasped.
The fourth—now that was the real challenge.
Izuku Midoriya.
Green hair. Freckles. Eyes like he was calculating a thousand outcomes at once.
He saw the mochi limb coming and flipped over it in a blur—10% One For All active. The kid moved like a bullet wrapped in respectability.
But Deku wasn't working alone.
"NOW, URARAKA!"
My heart dropped half a beat.
Uraraka's fingers brushed the top of Bakugo's head—and just like that:
"TEAM MIDORIYA STEALS TEAM BAKUGO'S HEADBAND!" Present Mic screamed.
Bakugo's face twisted into pure betrayal. His eyes bulged. His mouth opened like a bomb about to detonate.
"DEKU, YOU LITTLE—!"
And there he went, chasing Midoriya like a feral dog off its leash.
I cackled mid-air.
"Damn, this is better than cable."
We hit the ground hard, and my boots skidded across the uneven terrain. Honenuki's softened concrete had hardened again in weird, lumpy shapes.
One of my clones grunted. "This terrain sucks."
I nodded, scanning the chaos around us. Teams were shouting, tripping, diving for headbands like junkies in a candy store.
"Let's make it suck more."
"Mochi Hammer!"
We all slammed our fists into the ground. The quake that followed was seismic.
Concrete ruptured. Debris flew. Half the field staggered as the terrain became a mosaic of jagged rubble and broken footing.
Perfect.
Now, nobody could rush us without tripping or twisting an ankle.
Our field. Our rules.
Then everything went cold.
My breath fogged. Frost crept across the rubble like a living thing.
Todoroki.
Of course he'd wait. Classic counter-strike mentality. Let the rabble kill each other, then walk through the ashes.
He raised a single hand and shoot it toward ground.
FWOOOOSH.
Three teams instantly froze in place—literally. Ice snapped up their legs like it had been waiting under the rubble for its cue.
Todoroki walked past them like a ghost, plucked their headbands off without even looking.
From above, Eraserhead's voice buzzed through the intercom, monotone and unimpressed:
"Todoroki adapted his tactics then froze them in place. Efficient."
Smart. Too smart.
He'd done the same during the obstacle race—using the minefield as ammo instead of dodging it.
And now, he was doing it again.
Annoyingly clever, frosty bastard.
The scoreboard ticked down. Teams fell. Alliances broke. Betrayals bloomed like firecrackers.
And still—I held onto the ten million.
Easily.
But the real fight?
It wasn't against the swarms of students clawing for glory.
It was against him.
Todoroki.
I could feel his presence now, gliding through the chaos with all the inevitability of a glacier.
My clones flanked me, reforming in tight formation. Four mochi hydras still slithered at our backs, tense and ready.
"He's coming," one of them muttered.
I could see him now. Ice spreading in his wake. Left side steaming. Right side glowing cold.
Controlled
I grinned, tongue flicking over my teeth.
"Let him."