CHAPTER 13

WE HOBBITS ARE PLAIN QUIET FOLK

Getting in would have been the easy part. Slightly less easy was persuading Bakugou not to blow up the door. Ochako felt like knocking him silly, and pointed to a ground floor window whose glass were so flimsy all it would take to break through was a good punch.

To make things better it was unlatched too. Ten minutes was hardly enough for their opponent to really seal the building. The duo climbed into the building without much of a hitch – not counting Bakugou's grumbles, that was.

Knowing Midoriya, he probably has something up his sleeve, she thought, and promptly whacked herself. Of course he had; Hatsume had made him that amazing toy to play with!

But no sooner had she set foot inside than her pang of confused jealousy gave way to the fear of sudden explosions, or bullets that would literally expand inside people if hit. A kind of liminal darkness washed over her, spectral and uncomfortable. Sure, it might be afternoon and some light could filter in through the windows on the side, but the main corridor was dark as the twilight and the stairwell darker.

Bakugou flicked what looked like a power switch. And another. And another. Nothing happened.

"Coward put out all the light," he said, grinding his teeth. "No matter. As if the shitstain could ever see two inches in front."

Explosions crackled upon his fingers. He pushed through into the corridor, dropping expletives as his feet caught on a broken chair's foot.

The ground floor offered no resistance but the darkness. Nothing quite troubling on the first floor either, save for Bakugou mumbling more foul language for whatever reason.

But then they ascended to the second floor, and suddenly their way was unhindered no longer. The continuous stairway between the second and third had been blocked up by dozens of iron chairs and tables. piled up willy-nilly into a small mound that threatened to fall apart if they tried climbing.

"I could lift these out of the way," she suggested.

Bakugou didn't even look at her. "And do what, make an even bigger mess?" he said under his breath. "Deku probably thought you'd do that and clog up the whole fucking place even worse!"

Ochako bit down a shout. Bakugou wasn't wrong: there was so much furniture debris about and so little space to deposit them, lifting the stuff wasn't going to solve a whole lot. Besides, there were so many tables and chairs, she could just as easily make the whole thing cascade down on her.

"Well, what would you do then?" she said quietly.

"Brain, Moon-face. Building has two stairways." Bakugou harrumphed. "Deku probably didn't have the time to block off the other stairwell." There was a very brutal glint in his eyes. "Let's play his damned game if he's so eager to get wasted."

Then he turned round the corner into the corridor. Ochako followed suit, and no sooner had she glanced into the hallway that a gasp escaped her.

The place was wrecked.

The floor must have previously been full of cupboards and tablers and chairs and lockers, ostensibly to simulate an office block. Now all of that furniture was levied against them.

The ground was instead covered with bits and pieces of broken wood. Lockers had been thrown down in such ways that Ochako could barely push through without scraping herself. Then there were fans and electric kettles and a couple of computer screens, all tossed into the way. Just like the stairway: not much space to clean up – or time, for that matter. Must have been Iida's work, she thought. A motor engine built into one's legs could do an ugly lot within just a couple minutes.

More light was streaming in through the windows now, but all it did was make the place look that much more eerie; like one of those buildings her father's company was halfway through demolishing. Or worse, an everyday housing block after a villain had been through with it, with all the broken objects about. That mental image, well, was so surprisingly fitting: this was an everyday housing block after a 'villain' had been through with it.

More frightening still, was how many blind spots they had around the many corners of lockers and tables. The apprehension was nagging at the back of Ochako's mind. She might not be a military otaku, but even she could tell they were sitting ducks if someone were to snipe at them from the shadows.

That was probably Midoriya's plan, was it?

She tried not to think how much it would hurt (physically speaking) to be shot in the back when she was trying to duck under a locker.

But Midoriya's a nice guy, he wouldn't do that, right? Right?

Bakugou was growling and crawling under a locker knocked askew that was blocking the width of the corridor.

"What do we do now?" she asked. "Should we get back to the stairw-"

He was, predictably, having none of that defeatism. He'd finished crawling, and now blasted a table apart. The chair and computer monitor on top of it fell down in a cascade. "You want the harder work, be my fucking guest."

Ochako sighed and tagged behind him. No point in arguing against Bakugou.

And then Ochako heard a clatter clatter, and her heart jumped.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Heroes from far away, seeking fame and fortune!"

Bakugou stopped where he stood. He turned towards the sound – it had come from the end of the corridor, and who else could it have been?

"Goodness gracious me, welcome to my smial! A bit dusty and not so hospitable any more, but we hobbits aren't quite fond of guests without good will!"

Ochako had never thought Midoriya's voice could have sounded so threatening – yet it was, mischievous and ridiculing and malicious even. and she was shuddering more than a little now.

"I hope you do enjoy your stay, sir and ma'am!"

The jolly of his voice was so distant, so dissonant, so... eerie. She turned around: Now Bakugou's face was livid and red and purple all over, and there were sparks all over his palms.

"DEKU!"

Tenya flicked the last piece of junk in sight off the window. So far no explosions from below. He sighed in relief, took off his helmet, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and put it back on. A good villain had to look sufficiently intimidating, and Tenya wouldn't think his everyday face was good enough for either end of the hero-villain spectrum..

Ah, was he proud of his handiwork: not a speck of dust remained on the floor, wall, ceiling, anywhere. He'd followed Midoriya's plan, except this one part. This part was his own thinking. Leaving anything, anything at all, that Uraraka could send flying at him could easily spell doom to the whole effort.

"You sure I'll just have to handle Uraraka?"

"Absolutely," Midoriya had said. "Let's just say Bakugou has a history of a sort with me, and he wouldn't turn down a chance to beat me up."

Tenya had, of course, protested fervently. "That sounds like a terrible idea, forgive me for the offense! This is still only a school exercise and our safety has to take priority as much as the actual content of the training itself! You cannot possibly-"

But there had been a flash of resolve on Midoriya's face. "It's not a matter of can or cannot ." So grim and cryptic. So unlike the nice boy he'd shown himself to be. "It's a matter of must."

"Look, we're a team, Midoriya," Tenya had said. "We have to work together, villain or no-"

"You got me wrong, Iida. This is quite likely the best we would have for teamwork. There's no way the both of us can take on the both of them and be sure of winning. We can only stall." He'd been halfway to the stairway when he'd turned around, and suddenly he'd returned to the friendly and smiling Midoriya again. "So let me ask you again: Can I count on you to keep Uraraka away?"

What could Iida have done but say yes?

If he was to look at matters rationally – and Iida was proud of his rational mind – then the arrangement had indeed been the best they could have had. Iida's body plus his armor was too bulky, and his quirk too noisy, to do what Midoriya was planning. No, he wasn't good at all skulking in the shadow and taking pot-shots. His place was right there as the stage boss, and he'd better be a darn good stage boss who wouldn't let any boss arena shenanigan turn against him.

Again, not that it was easy for Bakugou or Uraraka to reach him in the first place.

The building's layout wasn't too complicated. It was like every other dime-a-dozen five-storey office block in downtown Tokyo those days. Each floor consisted of a corridor in the shape of a square bracket, surrounded by empty rooms on either side. The floors were connected by two sets of staircases, one at each end of the corridor. The top floor, however, had a single stairway leading to it from the one below. The entire floor was one gigantic room in itself, lined with two rows of pillars and a few windows jammed shut. In the middle stood their prize: a full-sized, obviously not functional, papier-mache nuclear bomb.

The contrast between the top floor and the two immediately below it was so unappealing to his fastidious self. Tenya had done it himself wrecking those lower floors: pushing lockers into the corridor, piling tables and chairs to choke up one of the two stairways, throwing broken electronics wherever he could, and shattering what he could into splinters on the floor. The stairwells were Midoriya's doing. He'd made it so one stairway was blocked on the second floor and the other on the third, so that Uraraka and Bakugou would have to pass at least one clogged hallway to get to the top floor – two if they'd chosen poorly.

If they'd manage to cross all of that, then there was the scion of the Iida clan himself, leaning against said nuclear bomb and cackling like a supervillain in the making.

Yes, yes, this is indeed the best plan-

And then the building quaked.

Explosions rang across the corridor, but Katsuki didn't care much about the noise. Or the flames. Or the splinters of furniture blasted all over the place like shrapnels. He might or might not have told Uraraka to get behind me and don't be a fucking hero. Not that it mattered: when he was done with it the corridor was blasted. Walls shattered, doors knocked in, tables and chairs crushed, lockers whacked around like ragdolls. There was now a veritable hole through the place between himself and the other stairwell, carved by his own hands and the sweat of his brows.

But there was no Deku at that stairway. Not even makeshift barricades.

There was no Deku, but there was a pebble that glinted silver on the floor. Katsuki's eyelids twitched: he bent down and snatched the object from the floor. At once he felt sick to the stomach.

The object looked like one of those concealable micro-speakers, windshield and all, made into a tiny sphere the size of his thumb joint. Fucking Deku!

"Ah, looks like you found me! Except you haven't, silly daft Big Folk! We can hear your footsteps a mile a-"

Katsuki crunched the micro-speaker in his palm and exploded it for good measures. "Fucker's making a fool out of us." He could barely hear his own voice, ugly though it had become.

He whipped around just in time to see – and hear – movement. A rubber shot whizzed underneath Katsuki's elbow. Katsuki leaped to the side; not nearly fast enough, for the shot managed to sail by his leg and ripped past his knee guard. His nostrils caught the ugly smell of burnt rubber.

Katsuki whirled around just in time for the shot. It was flying at them from the shadow, at a very weird angle, bouncing and bouncing and bouncing. It ricocheted off the wall, clonked on a locker, rebounded off a broken chair, before shooting straight for him. But Uraraka had laid hands on a broken slab of a locker first and raised it like a shield.

The shot glanced off in an angle.

"Bakugou!" she cried, and Katsuki at once knew what to do: explosions crackled in his palm as he raised both arms.

The rubber ball vaporized in an explosion that blew off a chunk of the staircase themselves.

Moon-face isn't half bad, he grudgingly admitted . "Where did it come from?" he asked gruffly.

Uraraka shook her head. "Uh..."

Katsuki took that back. Moon-face really wasn't all that good.

One second passed in apprehension. Two. Then three. Then ten.

No more projectiles were coming. No, even Deku wouldn't be stupid enough to think two ricocheting rubber shots would be enough. Deku had known Katsuki long enough to know how not to joke with the would-be strongest hero in the country!

But then Katsuki heard a very loud harrumph coming from somewhere on the same floor.

"One Bakugou raging like a bee
Dear me, too proud to turn and flee
Off you go! Shot to the knee!"
Have a wager, you can't find me!"

He was reciting an improvised poem. In fucking English.

"Bad old Kacchan sitting in a barn
Kacchan, bebothered by a yarn!
Here a shot! There a shot!
Round you turn, what a pile of sharn!"

Katsuki had never got so close to blowing a fuse as now. He could hear his knuckles creaking, and tried very hard not to imagine strangling the life out of Deku. "I'll. Fucking. Murder. Him."

"N-no, wait a second, Bakugou!" cried Uraraka. "Midoriya is... he could be anywhere in this floor! Or even above us! We should-"

Katsuki's eyes widened. Hold on a second.

Uraraka was about to open her mouth when Katsuki glowered at her again. "Stop where you are, Moonface." he said. "Fucking listen."

"One Bakugou raging like a bee
Dear me, too proud to turn and flee..."

The sound was coming from two places. On the other side of the corridor...

"Bad old Kacchan sitting in a barn
Kacchan, bebothered by a yarn!"

… and underneath him.

A terribly wicked grin came to Katsuki's face, and he was fine with looking like a villain just for the moment. "Fucker's not on the floor at all."

There really was only one thing Katsuki could do. He charged the stair and damn near slid down the bannister.

"Hey, Bakugou, wait up!"

"Do whatever the fuck you like!" he said. "Ain't gonna leave this score unsettled."

The corner of his eyes caught Uraraka turning around towards a glint amidst the rubble. Trick of the light. Or nothing particularly important.

Bilbo knew there was no way he could think faster than Katsuki – boy was virtually a genius, and Bilbo knew it. It was only a matter of time before he would find Bilbo: preferably later rather than earlier.

That was why his plan was all about delay.

It was working brilliantly too, for a plan so simple: all thanks to Mei's microphone sling-bullets. All he needed to do was to leave the amazing little things along the second floor corridor and then launch several shots at the intruders, just enough to 'persuade' Katsuki he was still hanging around on the same floor to mock him. In truth Bilbo had taken off immediately after the last shot, and had ran down the first floor while reciting admittedly terrible rhymes (and therefore an insult in and of itself) at Katsuki.

But then he heard footsteps where there really shouldn't have been, and his heart skipped a beat. He had only just gripped a hold of himself when Katsuki appeared appeared: the platinum-blond mane, the sound of crackling firework, and a screen of smoke that heralded trouble.

He had not expect Katsuki to be so bright.

There they stood, Bilbo and Katsuki, at two opposite end in an empty corridor. This was the worst possible outcome. It had been only a little more than three minutes, too.

"Just as I thought, Deku." he drawled. "You weren't above us. You weren't even on the same floor. You were fucking below. Thought we wouldn't bother to bleeding check the floors we've crossed, huh?"

"Indeed I did," said Bilbo truthfully. What was the point dodging it now? "When did you suspect it, I wonder?"

"The moment Uraraka stopped being an idiot stepping on all the shitty bits on the floor," Katsuki said. "Your fucking noise-hole sounds like a broken radio I can hear from a fucking mile. Love your shit stories and poetry so much, do you?"

Bilbo took a step back. "Nothing wrong with that," he said, desperately trying to hook Katsuki into an argument – any argument, as long as the clock was still ticking.

Again, Bilbo was wrong. Katsuki was smart. "No matter," he said. "Wanna be a villain so badly, Deku? Clean the crap from your ear-hole: I'm the hero, and the hero never loses!"

Then Katsuki rushed at Bilbo, an explosion propelling him forward like an arrow loosed from a great bow. The hobbit could only cross his arms on pure reflex.

His face and chest instantly felt the clobbering of a hundred hammers from a right hook.

Bilbo smelled burnt cloth. Air was forced out of his lungs. There was blood and iron on his tongue. His ears rang like so many bells.

But he hadn't lost his touch as much as he had thought: he curled into a ball, and literally rolled with the flow. Took him a second to skid to a halt from the recoil – the pain was blinding, but not so unbearable that he was completely defenseless. He was just trying to get up once more, when the silvery mane soared at him again. There was two dozen feet between him and Katsuki – and he was rushing so fast, so fast-.

"What's your precious 'quirk' doing, huh?"

Poxes and grippes! There was only one thing he could do now. He pulled a tab on his gauntlet. Work, my fair dear!

It worked.

A rubber marble fell into Bilbo's palm. The rest Bilbo left to his instinct. War to the knife it is!

He aimed a quick shot at the ground Katsuki was about to step on.

Bounce.

Ochako was racing up the fourth floor when she heard explosions echoing up from the floors below. The micro-speaker she'd picked up mimicked the sound so well her jumper was vibrating.

The speaker told her things other than the blast themselves. Now she knew it wasn't just explosions: it was explosions and an exchange of hateful words caused by a long history of enmity. A shiver came to her shoulders. Bakugou had caught Midoriya after all, and most likely was laying the smackdown on him right now. By all means, that should have been a good thing, right? Bakugou and Ochako were on the same side-

So why was she shivering again? Was it because of Midoriya's deadly toys? Or was it because Bakugou was sounding very much like he was going to murder Midoriya in cold blood? Surely this wasn't supposed to be, right? Not on her first lesson, right? They weren't supposed to be fighting to the death, right?

But it wasn't like she couldn't do anything about it. If the exercise concluded early, the beating would end, right? Right?

She clenched her fist and rushed up the third floor. There seemed less furniture strewn around and more space to fling them about. She lifted what she could out of the way, and parkoured her way through the rest.

Not having to worry about being shot in the back was an immense relief, and not having Bakugou grumpily breathing down her neck was hugely helpful too. She figured Iida couldn't be anywhere other than the top floor either – otherwise her team would have gotten an easy win and there was no way Midoriya hadn't accounted for that.

The fourth floor was even more empty. Ochako was dashing now along the pristine floor until the single stairway into the top floor was before her. She took a deep breath at the junction: light was shining down through the stairway.

A little more than one minute before time was up. Ochako didn't know how to win. She just knew that she had to win.

Time to face Iida and be done with it.

The brave little heroine of a construction worker took a deep breath, cocked her head high, gripped the speaker in her pocket like it were a charm of some kind, and faced her adversary.

Katsuki reeled back in his charge. Pain shot up his right arm like he'd taken a cane to his wrist.

For the first time in his life, Katsuki underestimated Deku's speed and his aim. Just a little slower, and the rubber shot could have punched him very hard where it really hurt.

Katsuki's price was his right gauntlet, split apart by a long crack from one end to the other. His collected sweat was dripping and dripping and dripping on the floor through the breach. If not for the color it would look quite like he was bleeding. Did Deku know of his costume's secret weapon? No, it wasn't likely. It was only a lucky shot. Just a lucky shot.

Besides, he wasn't even that badly hurt. Deku? Plastic helmet totaled. That silly rabbit tuft on his head, blown apart. Clothes, in tatters. There were dots of red on Deku's green shirt as the loser wiped his mouth and got dirt and dust all over his face.

"We hobbits... are plain quiet folks." He spat. "Fights like these... nasty, disturbing... uncomfortable things... make you late for dinner!"

"Stop mumbling nonsense!" cried Katsuki, and hurled himself at Deku again.

At once his shoulder blade rang out in pain. His charge stopped: Katsuki fell to one knee, nursing the pain on his shoulder's hollow.

Deku had kept his promise to All Might: he was not slinging the ball at Katsuki directly. He was throwing it like a baby would throw a toy.

… why did it hurt so bad? Was he using his quirk? No, scratch that, what was that quirk even about in the first place?

Katsuki bit his lip. Was this the exact thing Deku was taunting him about, that time in the restroom? No, that made no sense. Deku was hurt worse than he was. Deku was losing. Katsuki was winning. That was how it was going, yes? He needed only brace himself and go the extra mile...

He caught a quick breath. No, he wasn't losing. He was winning. Deku was backing off. Deku was running away. He could not let Deku run away. Must not!

Deku wasn't a brawler. If he'd been, there was no way he would be running away, right? All Katsuki needed to do was close the distance and he'd be finished... ***
Hardly had Ochako stepped on the first steps along the stairway when she heard what sounded like grunts in pain - Bakugou's grunts - and it was all she could do to tear her mind off the miniaturized speaker's broadcast. There, waiting above the stairs stood Iida, arms folded, helmet-concealed face impeccably poised towards the ascent. She could steal a glance at his direction as she tiptoed over the last steps, but one more step and he would see her for sure!

But then her hand returned to the mini-speaker. The pad on her finger ran a circle around the marble-sized ball. It's no shame learning from what Midoriya did either, she thought, and hurled the little ball in a tall arc so it rolled past Iida's feet.

No sooner had the object sailed behind Iida - landing with a clatter - than it broadcasted a terribly savage "DIE, DEKU!" echoing all over the remarkably huge room. Iida nearly jumped and spin around.

My chance! He was bending down and picking up the loudspeaker: just enough for Ochako to float-dash into the shadow of the nearest pillar, press her back against the wall and try not to breathe so loudly.

In hindsight, she had underestimated Iida's smarts. Hardly had she enjoyed a couple exhales and inhales in peace when his footsteps, heavy and menacing, began clattering in her general direction. Her heartbeat skipped; Ochako peeked out from behind the pillar only to see Iida standing a couple feet at most in front of it, hands at his hips, chest pushed forward, shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Well, well, well, what have we here, a hero out to play!" he said with a chuckle. "Why, don't be shy, our house's open to all!"

"How'd you know I was here?" she sounded out.

"You reused our equipment!" said Iida triumphantly. "Never count on a true villain to be so stupid he doesn't know what fancy toy his comrades use!"

Ochako pressed her cheek against the wall and her hand against her chest. Well, I did try my best. But then she steeled herself and clenched her fist. No excuse! This isn't over yet!

"So, hero," drawled Iida. "Shall we dance to the melody of ticking clocks? You have, oh, little more than one minute before this sinful little city goes boom!"

He must have had too much fun doing this, gesturing as wildly as he was: overblown arm swings, extra-noisy engine revving that, swaggering footing and a cackle that came right out of old comic books. If she hadn't been on the receiving end of the taunt she'd even found his dramatic persona kind of cute.

"Why don't you come out here and dance like you wanna win?" he said again, clapping his gloved hands. "You could make things fly, and I, well, I could run. We'd be perfect dance partners against the horizon of a city in red, ha, ha, ha!"

"No thanks," said Ochako. "I've got a bomb to take out!"

"Oh? So amusing; you and whose army?" he said. "An armed force of useless and useless?"

"Hey, don't be so sure of yourself, I've got a plan all lined up, just watch out!" she shouted. "Wanna bet on the outcome?"

That being said, she really didn't have much of a plan at hand...

And then a massive, massive, massive explosion erupted - from below, and from the speaker. ***
Bilbo bit his lip. Katsuki wouldn't let up – which was more or less exactly what Bilbo thought he would do. He only hadn't expected to take the brunt of it.

"Fucking die, Deku!"

But at that exact moment he lifted his hand to cover his face, Bilbo's gaze wandered to the glittery liquid on the ground. Rays of sunlight piercing through the windows were glinting off the liquid dripping behind Katsuki. It led to a larger pool at that spot where his gauntlet had shattered.

A pool of dangerously nasty explosive liquid, exposed to the elements.

Realization hit him with the force of a rolling boulder. Yavanna preserves us!

It was all Bilbo could do to curl into a ball. His eyes caught a spark on Bakugou's right palm.. The spark turned into a flash. Flash, conflagration.

There was a boom that made the loudest of thunders sound like the mewling of kittens.

The blast tore Bilbo off his feet and sent him hurtling towards the end of the corridor. Bilbo's back hit the wall with a thud.

He stood up to a scene of devastation. Smoke and dust was everywhere. Brick and mortar were blown apart.

"Bakugou?"

No answer.

"Katsuki?"

No answer.

"Kacchan?"

Bilbo felt nauseous at the nickname he was spitting.

But whatever worked, worked. Behind the cloud of smoke and dust, Katsuki stood, dropping to one knee, arms drooping. Both his gauntlets were gone, and his black shirt and pants were tattered, loose threads fraying in the wind. The invincible Katsuki Bakugou wasn't so invincible any more; laid low by his own explosion at an angle he didn't expect.

"You... bastard," he hissed.

But that was not what Bilbo was looking at. There, above Katsuki, a very large slab of ceiling was creaking – visibly. Bakugou's eyes, obviously, wasn't on it.

Bilbo took the hugest breath he could, and set to do the only thing a hobbit knew to do. He wrapped his arms around his face, and tackle-rushed Katsuki. The corner of his eyes caught a flash in green and red and white across his forearms, and sharp pain shot up his arm only to be ignored.

His effort earnt him a massive blast in the face. It was much huger than it should have been, and whatever glass windows that wasn't yet shattered into a million peace now was. The blast tossed Bilbo several yards backwards like a croquet ball and tore through the sling-gauntlet like wrapping paper. A piece of burnt rubber sailed across Bilbo's cheeks, grinding it raw.

But there was smoke in his eyes: the slab of concrete had loosened, and there was a mighty crash where Katsuki had been standing.

Had he done it?

Sure enough, the shard of concrete nailed into the ground like a broken stalagtite.

But Katsuki was not underneath it. The unruly boy stood now behind the fallen slab, blown back by the force of Bilbo's tackle and his own blast. His face was blank.

"Why..." he mumbled. "Why did you..."

Bilbo staggered up. He was sore all over, bleeding in places, burnt and bruised in others. Both his arms weren't moving at all. The pain was hard to ignore.

Katsuki was trembling upright. His teeth were grinding, there were deep creases between his eyes, and his tight fists were shuddering. The marks on his arms looked worse now, and resembled a bad burn rather than mere scratches. He was, unfortunately for Bilbo, still in a better shape: he could still move his arms, and he was winded rather than broken. If the fight was to go on...

"Time is up!"

The last half a minute had been fun posturing for Tenya: boosting up his engine, changing gear and making it look like he was going to charge the pillar. Just making it look that way, mind you: Even as a villain, Tenya could not bring himself to really hurt a girl, and honestly he was feeling bad enough just taunting poor Uraraka like that.

"Useless! Useless! Useless!"

If everything went right, he wouldn't need to lay a finger on Uraraka at all: he just needed to keep her pinned down behind the pillar until the timer ran out.

On her part Uraraka was trying to taunt him back too.

"Wanna bet on the outcome?" she had said, and Tenya was just shaking his head. Twenty five seconds. Now Iida wasn't a gambler, but that wasn't a bet he would take if he had been her.

And then came the massive explosion from below. It honestly felt like an earthquake: windows rumbling, glass cracking, mortar dropping from the ceiling, floor swaying and trembling. Tenya thought he was going deaf: pocketing the micro-speaker was the hugest mistake he had made!

When it was over, the floor was practically ruined. The ground was cracked and shattered in places. Deep creases now ran along the ground, making even walking difficult and charging a real hazard. The pillars, thankfully, were largely intact.

"Time to settle this!" Uraraka exclaimed, and at once Tenya's every muscle tensed. Was she going to just rush blindly at the bomb? At any rate, Tenya hurled himself at the bomb: he was faster and stronger, right? He could well try to keep the bomb from her and wait until the timer ran out - nothing had really changed, had it?

But Uraraka suddenly emerged from behind the pillar, looked now so much calmer now than she sounded a moment ago. She wasn't rushing for the bomb at all, or even for Tenya. No, she was wrapping her hands around the helmet she'd taken off and leaned backwards.

What the-

The round, pink object went sailing through the air directly at him like a miniature cannonball. T-too fast!

It hit Tenya square in the face with so much force it bounced off and staggered Tenya back. Tenua felt like he'd taken a nasty hook in the nose; his hands reached for his face as his eyes turned watery.

He could hear Uraraka's voice by his ears, no, past his ears. "Midoriya taught me this!" she was shouting. "When in doubt, throw stuff!"

When stars stopped circling around Tenya's eyes, Uraraka had already vaulted cross-armed at the bomb, fast as a bullet.

Crap! What could Tenya do but throw everything he had at her?

"Burst!" he cried, and leaped at her with all the speed he could muster, one hand still on the bridge of his nose.

Tenya and Uraraka reached their hands for the bomb, one after the other.

Horror gripped Tenya. Uraraka was a whole foot ahead of him. Her fingers were so close, so close, so close. How did it come to this?

"Time's up!"

Tenya's heart sank. They'd lost...

"Villain team wins!"

Except they hadn't.

And then Tenya realized just how and why. The announcement came a split second before Uraraka's finger touched the bomb. The poor girl floated down to the floor, hands dropping to the side. Even as her face was turning purple, tears were welling in her eyes.

The hero team was one fraction of a second too late.

By the time All Might was shouting 'Villain team wins!', Shouto's fingers were fidgeting.

How could a battle fought by such mundane, underhanded way be so exciting? Well, to be fair, the bit at the end at least resembled a proper hero-villain fight (with the only issue being the villain actually trying to save the hero's behind at the end of it. The old man would have sorely disapproved.)

All Might was grinning and folding his arms – because the heavens and spirits forbid he did anything else. "Now, that has been all so dramatic and gripping, but it's time for critique and observation! What can you all learn from the last exercise?" he said. "Who would you think have done well, and who hadn't?"

"Eh?" exclaimed the shark-toothed spiky redhead. "It's not Midoriya?"

Shouto's lips twitched. How utterly naive. "No." He said, despite himself. "Both Iida and Uraraka are tied for most valuable players."

All Might was nodding repeatedly. "Very good, young Todoroki!" he said. "More important question: why?"

An arm shot up next to Shouto. "Midoriya came up with a very good plan, but his implementation fell off the mark." It was Yaoyorozu: calmer and more intellectual than he'd given her credit at first. "He paid too much attention to gloating and taunting that he put himself into danger needlessly. If it had been a real fight, with that setup and match-up, he would have been destroyed before he could have made more meaningful contributions."

She pointed at the screen still showing a very sore-faced (and probably very physically sore) Bakugou. The man himself was off to the clinic, as did Midoriya.

"On the plus side Bakugou saw through Midoriya's plan, but it still took him a lot of precious time in a time-sensitive mission, and then he got carried away hunting him down instead of keeping his eyes on the prey. While he succeeded in subduing Midoriya, he was clearly blinded by personal grudge and failed to use good judgement – and needed to be saved by his opponent too."

Now Yaoyorozu threw a very approving glance at Uraraka. "Meanwhile, Uraraka made the best use of the hand she was dealt. When an nuclear bomb is at stake, it simply isn't worth it to bicker what to do and quick thinking may spell the difference between a million deaths and a crisis averted. She did exactly the best she could have given her quirk and equipment; and would have succeeded had she been a little faster or the villain's quirk a little less unfair to her." The brunette was blushing furiously now.

"Iida, too, did an excellent job as a villain: sticking to the plan, stalling for time, doing whatever he could to minimize the opposition's advantage and maximize his own. His only limitation is his unwillingness to hurt Uraraka – which is as good as a liability in actual combat, especially against a female villain who is willing to hurt or kill." There was a weird mix of shame and pride on Iida's face, and Shouto found that amusing. Look like the class robot felt emotions too...

As to the assessment Shouto found himself nodding exactly once. "That said, he also underestimated Uraraka and never saw the helmet-throw coming," he said. "That's ironically so very in-character for a villain: throwing one's helmet is what a desperate villain would do, not what a hero would – or should." There's a reason why this girl made it to where she is.

All Might clapped his hands. "Very good, very good!" he shouted. "Now, I know you're all riled up after seeing the last round! So let's keep up the spirit! Next teams, are we ready?"

Notes and Fanon:

- The fifth type of shot in Izuku's gauntlet wasn't used as a shot at all in this chapter: Microphone bullet.
- I'm a terrible poet and can only explain the terrible quality of Bilbo's improvised song in-universe by claiming, well, it was improvised.