Chapter 29: The Chasm and the Minefield
The race was now a frantic, desperate chase. The initial, chaotic mob of students had been thinned by Todoroki's ice and fractured by Gaara's unorthodox intervention. Now, a clear hierarchy was beginning to form. At the very front, a trio of Class 1-A's elite—Todoroki, Bakugo, and Yaoyorozu—pushed the pace, their expressions a mask of fierce determination. And somewhere behind them, a solitary, red-haired figure ran with a steady, unnervingly calm rhythm, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
"AFTER A SHOCKING FIRST OBSTACLE, OUR RACERS ARE NOW FACING THE SECOND BARRIER!" Present Mic's voice roared, a constant, high-energy soundtrack to the competition. "IF YOU'RE AFRAID OF HEIGHTS, YOU MIGHT WANT TO LOOK AWAY! IT'S A LONG WAY DOWN AT… THE FALL!"
The landscape opened up into a massive, man-made canyon, a chasm so deep and wide that the bottom was lost in shadow. A series of tall, precarious rock pillars were the only things that broke the emptiness, connected by a sparse web of thick, swaying tightropes. It was a test of balance, agility, and clever Quirk usage, designed to filter out those who relied on brute strength alone.
Todoroki, who had maintained his lead, didn't even seem to register the ropes as a viable option. He reached the cliff's edge and, without breaking stride, stomped his right foot. A wide, solid bridge of glistening ice shot out from under him, connecting his side of the chasm to the other in a single, elegant arc. He ran across it, the picture of efficient, overwhelming power.
Bakugo arrived moments later, his face a mask of furious determination. "SHOWING OFF AGAIN, YOU ICY HOT PRETENDER?!" he yelled to the empty air, refusing to use the elegant bridge his rival had created. He aimed his palms downwards and propelled himself across the chasm in a series of powerful, deafening explosions, a reckless but undeniably fast method.
Behind them, the other students tackled the obstacle with their own unique skills. Tsuyu Asui used her long tongue to swing from the pillars like an acrobat. Uraraka Ochako made herself weightless, carefully floating from one rope to the next. Momo Yaoyorozu, having been overtaken by some of the more mobile students, simply created a powerful grappling hook and cannon, launching herself across with practiced ease.
Then, Gaara arrived at the edge.
He stopped, his sand-colored boots just inches from the precipice. He looked down into the shadowy depths, then at the swaying ropes, and finally at the distant figures of his classmates disappearing ahead. He could create a bridge of sand, but that was Todoroki's method. He could try the ropes, but that would be too slow. He needed a solution that was his own.
He stepped off the cliff.
A collective, horrified gasp went up from the tens of thousands of people in the stadium. For a heart-stopping second, he simply fell. Then, with a quiet whoosh, a swirling, dense platform of sand, the size of a large shield, materialized directly beneath his feet, arresting his fall. He stood upon it, suspended in the open air, the wind gently ruffling his crimson hair.
The sand platform then moved, gliding smoothly and silently across the vast chasm. It was not as fast as Bakugo's explosions, but it was steady, controlled, and utterly effortless.
"INCREDIBLE! SIMPLY INCREDIBLE!" Present Mic screamed into his microphone, his voice filled with genuine awe. "GAARA ISN'T WALKING, HE'S NOT SWINGING, HE'S FLYING! HE'S CREATED HIS OWN PERSONAL TRANSPORT! THE LEVEL OF CONCENTRATION AND FINE CONTROL IS SIMPLY BREATHTAKING, FOLKS!"
In the announcer's booth, Aizawa watched the monitor, his visible eye narrowed. "He's not just controlling its direction," he stated grimly. "He's constantly maintaining its density and structural integrity while moving over a variable air current. The level of difficulty in that… is immense."
High above in his private box, Toshinori allowed a small, proud smile to touch his lips. He's not just using his power for destruction or absolute defense, he thought. He's using it for utility. He's thinking. He's adapting. He is learning.
Gaara landed softly on the other side of the chasm, the sand platform dissolving and flowing back into his gourd before his feet even touched the ground. He immediately broke into a run, the final obstacle now in sight.
"OUR LEADERS HAVE REACHED THE FINAL, EXPLOSIVE BARRIER!" Present Mic announced. "WELCOME TO A LAND OF PAIN AND REGRET! IT'S THE MINEFIELD! THE EXPLOSIVES ARE HIGH-POWERED, BUT DESIGNED TO BE NON-LETHAL, SO DON'T WORRY, FOLKS! THEY'LL ONLY STING… A LOT!"
The final stretch of the course was a wide, treacherous expanse of soft earth, its surface dotted with the subtle but unmistakable signs of buried landmines.
Todoroki, still in the lead, was already navigating it with cautious speed. He had created a thin layer of frost over the ground, the slight depressions of the buried mines now more visible. He moved carefully, tapping the ground ahead of him with a long, thin rod of ice. Bakugo was close behind, using his explosions to blast himself over sections of the field, a risky but effective strategy.
Gaara reached the edge of the minefield. He saw his competitors' methods. He saw the path ahead. And he chose his own way.
He knelt, placing the palm of his right hand flat on the ground. He closed his eyes for a second in concentration. A wave of sand poured from his gourd, but it did not rise. It spread out before him, a thin but dense carpet of reddish-brown grit that covered the treacherous ground in a smooth, uniform layer.
Then, he stood up. And he ran.
He ran at a full sprint directly across the sand-covered minefield. His weight, distributed perfectly across the surface of his sand, was not enough to trigger the pressure plates beneath. He moved with a speed and confidence that was impossible for anyone else.
"WHAT IS THIS?! ARE YOU SEEING THIS?!" Present Mic's voice cracked with disbelief. "GAARA HAS TURNED THE MINEFIELD INTO HIS OWN PERSONAL BEACH! HE'S RUNNING ON TOP OF IT AS IF IT WERE SOLID GROUND! A COMPLETELY INGENIOUS, AND FRANKLY, TERRIFYING APPLICATION OF HIS QUIRK!"
Todoroki, who had been methodically clearing his path, heard the roar of the crowd and the sound of footsteps closing in fast. He glanced back and saw the impossible sight: the red-haired boy, sprinting across a carpet of his own making, gaining on him with every second. Todoroki's cold calm was finally broken by a flash of pure, competitive fire. He abandoned his cautious approach and began to run, using his ice to skate dangerously close to the mines. The race was truly on.
The three of them—Todoroki, Bakugo, and now Gaara—were neck and neck as they neared the end of the minefield, the stadium tunnel that marked the finish line now tantalizingly close.
And then, the world exploded.
A deafening BOOM erupted from far behind them, a sound that dwarfed any of Bakugo's explosions. A massive plume of pink smoke and dirt shot into the air. All three of them turned their heads to see a small, green-clad figure soaring through the sky, a twisted piece of robot armor beneath his feet, propelled by the force of the massive mine he had deliberately detonated.
It was Izuku Midoriya.
He flew over their heads, a human rocket born of desperation and brilliant, insane strategy. His flight path was unstable, but it was carrying him towards the finish line.
The final sprint was a blur. Midoriya landed in a jarring, tumbling roll, but stayed on his feet, his body screaming in protest. He stumbled across the finish line. A split second later, Gaara, who had pushed into a final, desperate sprint, crossed second. Todoroki and Bakugo, both momentarily stunned by Midoriya's aerial assault, crossed almost simultaneously for third and fourth.
For a moment, the stadium was in a state of stunned silence. The impossible had happened. The results flashed on the giant screen, confirming the unbelievable upset.
1st Place: Izuku Midoriya
2nd Place: Gaara
3rd Place: Shoto Todoroki
4th Place: Katsuki Bakugo
The silence broke, and the stadium erupted into the loudest, most incredulous roar of the day.
Midoriya stood past the finish line, shaking, his arm throbbing, tears of disbelief in his eyes. He had done it. Todoroki looked from Midoriya to Gaara, his expression a mask of cold, intense fury and newfound respect. Bakugo was trembling from head to toe, his face a contorted snarl of pure, unadulterated rage at his humiliating defeat.
Gaara stood a few feet away from them all, his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He looked at the finish line, then up at the roaring crowd, and finally down at his own chest. He had not won. But he had not been left behind. He had not failed the test. A strange, new, and completely neutral feeling settled over him. It was not joy. It was not pride. It was simply… the quiet satisfaction of a task completed.
The first trial was over. And the established order of Class 1-A had been utterly and completely shattered.