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Chapter 12: Contact Tactics
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 22:24:16 +0000 UTCIzuku’s command—“RUN!”—still pounded in Ochako’s ears as her feet devoured the concrete hallway. But it wasn’t the sound that dominated her senses. It was the feeling.
A strange, vibrant energy hummed in her chest, right where his hands had been. It wasn't painful; it was a tingle, almost an itch beneath the skin, a restless power that begged to be released. A warmth spread from that point, coloring her face with a blush that was no longer just from embarrassment, but from pure, overwhelming energy.
What was that? she thought, her mind racing as fast as her legs. What the hell was that? He touched me! In front of Bakugo, in front of everyone on the monitors! He even squeezed them! With both hands! Like he was checking a piece of fruit for ripeness at the supermarket!
The humiliation was a hot wave threatening to drown her, but it fought against the undeniable evidence of her own body.
But… I feel… amazing.
She wasn't tired. Her lungs, which should have been burning, felt like bellows with infinite capacity. Her legs, which should have felt like lead, were lighter than air. Each stride was longer, more powerful than the last. She was barely touching the ground.
I feel… strong. Stronger than ever before.
She remembered the look in Izuku’s eyes right before the… incident. It wasn’t just the shameless lust she sometimes glimpsed; it was a desperate urgency, an absolute faith in his insane plan. His words drilled into her head, drowning out the roar of Bakugo’s explosion: “Trust me!”
As she bounded up a flight of stairs, effortlessly taking three steps at a time, a memory surfaced: one of their training sessions on the beach. They were sitting, exhausted, after she had managed to levitate a rusty steel beam.
“Your Quirk is incredible, Ochako,” Izuku had said, scribbling in his notebook. “But I think you use it defensively. You think of it as ‘nullifying gravity.’ Which is correct, but it’s limiting.” “Limiting?” she had asked, confused. “Think about it. What is gravity but a form of energy? Potential energy. What if, instead of just nullifying it, you could do something more?” “Like what?” “What if you could absorb a small fraction of that energy and direct it? Not just make something weightless, but take that ‘not-weight’ and use it.” She had looked at him like he was crazy. “Absorb it? How? That sounds dangerous.” He had laughed. “It’s just a theory. Maybe it needs a catalyst. A point of contact to focus the transfer… Don’t worry, it’s just a crazy idea!”
The memory faded, but the realization hit her with the force of a train.
A point of contact? A catalyst to focus the transfer?
She stopped dead in an empty hallway, her face burning with a new understanding.
Was he talking about… that? About… my boobs? That pervert! That brilliant, clever pervert!
Exasperation warred with awe. Her friend’s twisted but functional logic was both insulting and genius. She brought a hand to her chest, still feeling the tingle. No, he wasn't just a simple pervert. He was a mad scientist. And she was his most successful experiment.
A dangerous smile played on her lips. “Alright, Deku. Understood. Let’s see what this new strength can do.”
She started running again, but this time, she wasn’t fleeing. She was heading for her objective.
In the monitor room, the initial stunned silence had been replaced by a chaos of incredulous shouts.
“DUDE, DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Kaminari yelled, jumping out of his seat. “Midoriya didn’t waste any time! He went straight for it!” “That was so unmanly!” Kirishima said, his face torn between disapproval and grudging admiration. “But so bold! I don’t know how to feel!” Jiro covered her face with one hand, peeking through her fingers. “That was… the most shameless thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m going to have that image burned into my retinas forever.”
But no reaction was as visceral as Minoru Mineta’s. He was on his knees, pounding the linoleum with his small fists, tears and snot streaming down his face.
“NOOOOOO!!” he sobbed, his voice a wail of pure agony. “HE’S LIVING THE DREAM! THE DREAM THAT WAS PROMISED TO ME! GODS, IF YOU EXIST, YOU ARE CRUEL AND YOU CLEARLY HAVE A FAVORITE!”
He scrambled to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at the screen. “I’VE STUDIED THE THEORY! I’VE PERFECTED THE STEALTHY GLANCE! I’VE MEMORIZED THE ANGLES! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! THAT SOFTNESS, THAT FIRMNESS, THAT GLORY! I CAN FEEL IT FROM HERE!”
He began to foam at the mouth, a truly pathetic sight.
The camera focused on Momo Yaoyorozu. She was standing slightly apart from the group, her face flushed a deep crimson. One of her hands was instinctively held near her own chest.
He… he touched me, too, she thought, her heart pounding. But it was an accident… right? It was a collision…
She remembered the sensation, but now she compared it to what she had just witnessed.
No… this was different, she realized with alarming clarity. The way he moved toward Uraraka. There was no hesitation. It was deliberate. The way his eyes locked onto her… That’s not the look of a scientist, it’s the look of a connoisseur! An expert! He’s a pervert!
The conclusion made her feel both vindicated and strangely disappointed.
But… her analytical mind continued, unable to stop, …it wasn’t meaningless. Bakugo stopped. Uraraka is much faster now. There was a tactical purpose. A vulgar, objectionable purpose that probably violates several school rules… but a purpose nonetheless. Is it possible his Quirk is affected by the… point of contact?
Unconsciously, she glanced down at her own chest, thoughtful. The idea was both repulsive and fascinating.
At that moment, All Might, who had been frozen with his fixed smile, seemed to come back to life.
“Young Midoriya…” he whispered to himself. “What kind of tactic is that?”
But then, his veteran strategist’s brain processed the information. Bakugo, frozen. Uraraka, accelerating. The trust on both their faces. Slowly, a genuine smile replaced the plastic one. And he began to clap.
A slow, booming clap that filled the room, silencing the chaos. All eyes turned to him.
“I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL THINKING, YOUNG HEROES!” his voice boomed, regaining its usual bombast. “That what you saw was a vulgar act! A tasteless joke! And on the surface, you’d be absolutely right!”
He turned to the students, his shadow falling over them.
“BUT THIS ISN’T A TEA PARTY! THIS IS THE BATTLEFIELD! AND WHAT WE JUST WITNESSED WAS AN ACT OF TACTICAL GENIUS ON MULTIPLE LEVELS!” He pointed to the screen. “FIRST LEVEL: PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE! Young Midoriya knows his opponent! He knew the one thing that could break Young Bakugo’s blind rage wasn’t a punch, but something so unexpected, so contrary to his ‘useless Deku’ worldview, that it would cause a short-circuit in his brain! And it worked! It bought his partner vital seconds!”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“SECOND LEVEL, AND PERHAPS THE MOST CRUCIAL: EMPOWERMENT AND ABSOLUTE TRUST!” he continued, his voice rising. “Look at Young Uraraka! Look at her run! That isn’t just speed, it’s CONFIDENCE! Young Midoriya didn’t just distract his opponent, he gave his ally a boost, a transfer of WILL! And she accepted it without a moment’s hesitation! The trust required to allow such a bold maneuver in the heat of combat is the bedrock of the greatest hero teams!”
He concluded, his voice filled with a new, profound respect.
“What Young Midoriya did was bold, yes! Reprehensible on a first date, of course! But here, where conventional rules die… it was a masterstroke! He used his opponent’s perception of him to execute the most brazen maneuver possible! That, young heroes, is what separates a fighter from a STRATEGIST!”
The students nodded, a mixture of awe and understanding on their faces. They still thought it was incredibly weird, but now they saw the twisted logic behind the madness.
Mineta, meanwhile, was weeping silently in his corner, muttering, “I’m a strategist, too… a love strategist…”
Iida had cleared the room of debris and struck a villainous pose, one hand on his hip, the other pointing toward the door.
“HAHAHA! Hero! You’ve finally arrived!” he declaimed as Ochako appeared in the doorway. “But your journey ends here! With my unsurpassed speed, you’ll never touch this weapon! Surrender now and perhaps I’ll show mer—!” “Sorry, Iida-kun,” Ochako interrupted. She took a deep breath, feeling the electric tingle in her chest, and smiled at him. It wasn’t her usual sweet smile. It was a smile filled with a new, dangerous confidence. “I think Deku and I found a little trick.”
Instead of running at him, Ochako knelt and placed the pads of her five fingers on the concrete floor.
Okay, Deku… like we practiced. Don’t release. Focus. Saturate.
A visible wave of pink energy, like a heat haze, expanded from her hand across the entire floor of the room. It wasn't an explosion; it was a silent, total saturation.
Iida looked at her, confused. “What is this useless trick?”
And then, his world turned upside down.
The energy nullified the gravity of everything it touched on the floor. The small bits of debris, the concrete pillars, and even Iida himself felt their weight completely vanish.
“WHAT?!” Iida yelled as his feet lifted off the ground.
Instinctively, he tried to use the thrusters in his boots, but without gravity to hold him down, they only served to send him spinning uncontrollably like a top.
Ochako, however, was in her element. She pushed off gently from the wall, floating with absolute grace and control through the chaos. She dodged the flailing, spinning Iida, who was yelling about the violation of physical laws, and with an almost insulting ease, she placed her hand on the papier-mâché surface of the bomb.
“Weapon secured,” she said calmly. “Sorry, Iida-kun. Checkmate.”
The hunt was relentless. Bakugo, having snapped out of his stupor, had become a force of nature. He was a walking fury.
“STOP RUNNING, YOU DAMN PEST!”
An explosion tore a door from its hinges right where Izuku had just been.
The plan worked! Izuku thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. Ochako must be getting to the bomb! I just have to survive!
He dodged down a side hall as another explosion shattered a window. The sound was deafening. Ducking behind a wall, a fleeting memory came to him: his mother in the living room, playfully tossing pillows at him.
“Come on, Izuku!” her voice said in the memory. “A hero needs cat-like reflexes! Don’t just react to the hit! Anticipate! Feel the movement!”
The memory, strangely, gave him strength. He was applying years of unconventional training. Years of observing Kacchan, of learning his patterns.
“FACE ME LIKE A MAN, DEKU!” Bakugo’s scream was pure hatred.
Izuku ran again, his mind a calculator of escape routes. He took a left turn. And found himself in a dead-end hallway.
He spun around, his back against the cold wall. Bakugo stood at the entrance, blocking the only way out. He wasn't yelling now. He was smiling. It was a sadistic grin of victory.
“It’s over, Deku,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “No more tricks. No more running. No more touching girls.”
He raised his right gauntlet, the one shaped like a giant grenade. He had been accumulating sweat. Izuku knew what that meant.
“Now you’re gonna get everything you deserve.”
He pulled the pin. A blinding light began to form in the opening.
“DIE!”
Just as the light from the massive explosion lit up the hallway, just as Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain, a voice thundered through the building’s speakers. It was All Might's voice, filled with booming joy.
“THE WEAPON HAS BEEN SECURED! THE HERO TEAM WINS!”
The energy from Bakugo’s massive blast dissipated inches from Izuku’s terrified face.
Bakugo froze, arm outstretched, his face a mask of disbelief, rage, and absolute defeat.
Izuku, his legs shaking so violently they could barely hold him, slid down the wall to the floor, taking in huge, painful gulps of air.
He was alive. They had won.
