Chapter 05 ~ The end of the exam
The thick cloud of concrete dust slowly began to settle over the ruined intersection. A heavy silence replaced the mechanical roaring of the destroyed Zero-Pointer. Midoriya lay cradled in Po's massive arms, his breathing ragged and uneven. Both of the boy's legs were bruised a deep, unnatural purple, and his right arm hung at a terrifying angle. Despite the immense pain, Midoriya managed a weak, exhausted smile at Po's compliment before his eyes fluttered shut and he lost consciousness.
"TIME IS UP!" Present Mic's amplified voice echoed across the entirety of Battle Center B. A loud, continuous siren blared, signaling the official end of the practical exam.
Po slowly and carefully knelt down on the cracked asphalt. He moved with extreme caution, treating the unconscious green-haired boy like a fragile piece of porcelain as he gently laid him flat on the ground.
"Is... is he going to be alright?" a shaky voice asked from behind.
Po turned his large head. The brown-haired girl he had rescued from the rubble was using a piece of broken concrete to support her weight, hopping slightly on her good leg. Her face was covered in dust, and a few small scrapes marked her cheeks, but her eyes were entirely focused on Midoriya.
"He pushed his body way past its absolute limit," Po said softly, his deep voice providing a calming presence in the chaotic aftermath. "But his breathing is steady. He just needs medical attention right away."
The girl let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. She then looked directly at Po, her expression shifting to one of profound gratitude. "Thank you. For lifting that pillar off me. I was completely trapped. If you had not stepped in..."
"You do not need to thank me," Po smiled warmly, the dark patches around his eyes crinkling. "We are all here aiming to be heroes, right? Helping each other out is just part of the job description."
Before the girl could introduce herself, a low, rhythmic tapping sound approached them. The crowd of remaining examinees, who had slowly started walking back toward the entrance, parted respectfully. A very short, elderly woman with a cane shaped like a syringe was making her way through the wreckage.
"Very good work, everyone," the elderly woman announced, tossing small, wrapped candies to the exhausted teenagers. "Here, take some gummies. It will help with your fatigue."
"Who is that?" a student nearby whispered.
"That is the backbone of U.A.," another replied with obvious awe. "The Youthful Heroine, Recovery Girl."
Recovery Girl finally reached Po, Uraraka, and the unconscious Midoriya. She looked down at the battered boy, clicking her tongue in gentle disapproval. "Oh my goodness. Look at what this foolish boy has done to his own bones. It is as if his body is completely unaccustomed to his own Quirk."
She leaned down, her lips extending slightly, and planted a firm kiss directly on Midoriya's forehead.
Po blinked, tilting his head in mild confusion. He had seen many strange Quirks in his life, but a healing kiss was certainly a new one. Almost instantly, a soft green aura surrounded Midoriya's broken limbs. The terrifying purple bruises began to fade rapidly, and his bones visibly realigned beneath his skin. Midoriya's tense expression smoothed out into a peaceful slumber, though he looked noticeably paler, clearly drained of his stamina.
"There, that should do it," Recovery Girl nodded, before turning her attention to the brown-haired girl. "Let me see that leg, dear."
Another quick kiss to the girl's injured knee, and the pain vanished completely. The girl tested her weight on it, her eyes lighting up with relief. "Wow! Thank you so much!"
Finally, Recovery Girl turned her gaze upward, craning her neck to look at Po. She studied his massive, black-and-white frame with an experienced, clinical eye. She gently poked his large stomach with the tip of her cane. The cane sank harmlessly into the dense fur and bounced right back.
"Remarkable physiology," Recovery Girl noted approvingly. "I saw the monitor feeds. You caught this boy falling at terminal velocity. If it had been anyone else trying to catch him with raw strength, both of you would have shattered your spines. Your natural padding dispersed the kinetic energy flawlessly. A very smart, very effective rescue."
"Thank you, ma'am," Po bowed respectfully, placing a large paw over his chest. "I just did what I had to do."
"Well, you did well, big guy," she smiled, handing him a handful of gummies. "Now, off you go. The buses are waiting to take you all back to the main gates."
As the medical robots arrived to carefully place the sleeping Midoriya onto a stretcher, the brown-haired girl turned to Po one last time. "I am Ochaco Uraraka, by the way. I really hope we both make it in!"
"I am Po," he replied, returning her bright smile. "It was nice meeting you, Uraraka."
Walking back toward the massive gates of the mock city, Po popped a gummy into his mouth. The sweet, fruity flavor was a nice distraction, but it did not hide the loud, demanding rumble that suddenly echoed from his large stomach. The adrenaline was fading, and the immense physical toll of using his Chi was catching up to him. He had faced the robots, he had protected his fellow examinees, and he had proven that a gentle giant could hold his ground.
Now, all he could think about was getting back to the noodle shop. He really hoped his dad had a giant bowl of extra-large dumplings waiting for him.
The familiar, cheerful chime of the brass bell above the entrance rang out as Po pushed through the swinging doors of the Ping Family Noodle Shop. He had to turn his massive body completely sideways, sucking in his large stomach just to squeeze through the doorframe without taking the hinges off.
The shop was packed. It was the early evening rush, and the air was thick with the intoxicating, savory aroma of boiling chicken broth, roasted garlic, and freshly chopped green onions. The sound of happy chatter mixed with the rhythmic, rapid-fire thwack-thwack-thwack of a kitchen knife hitting a wooden cutting board.
Behind the counter, surrounded by clouds of fragrant white steam, was his father. Mr. Ping was a blur of motion, his panda head bobbing to an unseen rhythm as he tossed noodles into the air with a wooden strainer, caught them flawlessly, and dumped them into waiting porcelain bowls.
"Table four needs two spicy broths! Table seven needs extra dumplings!" Mr. Ping called out, his voice straining slightly over the din of the busy restaurant. He glanced toward the door, his dark eyes lighting up. "Po! You are back! Perfect timing, my boy! Grab an apron, we are completely swamped!"
"On it, Dad!" Po replied, his fatigue instantly evaporating at the sight of the kitchen.
He shuffled past the crowded tables. Regular customers smiled and waved at him. A few little kids giggled, pointing at his fluffy black ears. Po reached the back room, hung his yellow backpack on a reinforced steel hook, and grabbed his custom-made apron. It was roughly the size of a small tent. He tied it around his wide waist and thoroughly washed his massive paws in the oversized industrial sink.
Stepping into the kitchen, Po was in his true element. Despite his towering height and immense bulk, he moved through the tight, cramped space with the delicate precision of a dancer. He danced around boiling pots, smoothly ducking under hanging pans, and instinctively dodging his father's rapidly moving elbows. It was a completely different kind of martial art—the flow of the kitchen.
Suddenly, a loud, thunderous, and deeply unnatural sound echoed through the room.
GURRRRGGGGLE.
A customer at the counter actually jumped, looking around in alarm. "Was that an earthquake?" the man asked, holding onto his teacup.
Po blushed, placing a large paw over his stomach. "Uh, no, sir. That was just my stomach. It has been a long day."
Mr. Ping laughed heartily, wiping his brow with a towel. "A warrior needs his fuel! You cannot serve noodles on an empty tank! Here!"
His father slid a massive, custom-sized ceramic bowl across the wooden counter. It was filled to the brim with thick, hand-pulled noodles, swimming in a rich, dark broth, topped with roasted vegetables, and surrounded by a fortress of at least twenty perfectly steamed dumplings.
Po's eyes widened to the size of saucers. A dramatic gasp escaped his lips. "Dad... it is beautiful."
"Eat fast, then grab the trays!" Mr. Ping commanded affectionately.
Po grabbed his heavy-duty metal chopsticks. He did not just eat; he inhaled the food. He slurped the noodles with such rapid, comedic intensity that a small vortex of steam formed around the bowl. He tossed dumplings into the air and caught them flawlessly in his mouth, a skill he had perfected since he was five years old. In exactly forty-five seconds, the massive bowl was completely spotless.
"Ahhh," Po sighed happily, patting his now thoroughly satisfied belly. He grabbed a tray loaded with four bowls of soup, balancing it effortlessly on the tips of his large, padded fingers. "So, table four and seven?"
"Exactly!" Mr. Ping nodded, expertly chopping another bunch of green onions. "So, how was the big superhero exam? Did you do the smashing? Did you show them the power of the Ping family diet?"
"It was pretty crazy," Po casually replied, carefully setting a bowl down in front of a waiting customer with a polite bow. "Lots of giant robots. People shooting lasers and explosions everywhere. I punched a couple of metal guys. Oh, and a giant robot the size of a building almost stepped on us, but a kid with green hair punched it in the face, and then he fell out of the sky, so I had to catch him with my stomach."
He said it all with the same casual tone someone might use to describe a trip to the grocery store.
Mr. Ping stopped chopping for a fraction of a second, blinking his dark eyes. "You caught a boy falling from the sky... with your stomach?"
"Yeah, he is going to be fine though. The school nurse gave us gummies," Po smiled, turning back to the kitchen to grab the next tray.
Just as he reached the counter, the front door burst open. Takeshi stood panting in the doorway, his glasses slightly askew, completely ignoring the line of waiting customers.
"Po!" Takeshi yelled, rushing over to the counter and grabbing Po's furry arm. "Tell me everything! I saw the news helicopters circling the U.A. test centers! Were there really giant robots? Did you survive? Please tell me you did not try to hug one of them!"
Po chuckled, easily sliding a plate of steamed buns toward his panicked friend. "I survived, Takeshi. Relax. Have a bun. And for the record, I only hugged the pavement once, and it was entirely accidental."
Takeshi took a huge bite of the soft bun, chewing rapidly. "You are too calm! This is U.A. we are talking about! The acceptance letters take a week to arrive. How are you not pacing back and forth in pure anxiety?"
"Because," Po said gently, leaning against the counter and looking out at the warm, noisy, happy restaurant, "worrying about a letter won't cook the noodles. And right now, table three really needs their spicy tofu."
.
.