Chapter 03 ~ Exam
The massive auditorium was packed with eager applicants. Po found his assigned seat next to Midoriya and, to his mild amusement, the same explosive blonde boy from outside. Sitting down, however, proved to be a challenge. The standard U.A. auditorium chairs were simply not designed for the anatomy of a giant panda. Po had to carefully squeeze his wide hips into the plastic seat, his thick knees pressing awkwardly against the back of the chair in front of him. He folded his massive arms across his large belly, trying to make himself as compact as physically possible.
"Welcome to today's live performance!" a booming, electrified voice echoed through the massive room. Pro Hero Present Mic stood on the brightly lit stage, posing dynamically behind a DJ podium. "Everybody say 'Hey'!"
Absolute silence filled the dark room. Po blinked, offering a polite but quiet, "Hey."
"Tough crowd!" Present Mic recovered seamlessly, pointing to the massive screen behind him. "Listen up, examinees! I am here to present the rundown of your practical test. You will be experiencing ten-minute mock urban battles! After this presentation, you will head to your specified battle centers."
Po looked down at his examinee card. It read: Battle Center B. He glanced over his shoulder. Midoriya and the angry blonde boy, whom Midoriya had called Kacchan, were assigned to different areas.
Present Mic continued explaining the rules. Three types of villain bots would be roaming the simulated urban arenas, worth one, two, or three points respectively. The goal was to use their Quirks to immobilize the targets and rack up a high score. Midoriya was feverishly muttering beside him, analyzing every word and furiously scribbling in a worn-out notebook.
"Shut up," the blonde boy hissed at Midoriya, leaning forward with a terrifying glare.
Po gently nudged Midoriya's shoulder with a soft, padded finger, snapping the green-haired boy out of his intense trance. Midoriya covered his mouth with both hands, his face flushing with immediate embarrassment.
"There is one more thing!" Present Mic shouted, his voice reaching a new, higher pitch. A fourth shadow appeared on the digital screen. "The Zero-Pointer! It is a massive obstacle that will go crazy in narrow spaces. It is not impossible to defeat, but there is no reason to. I recommend you listeners try to avoid it entirely!"
Po studied the dark silhouette of the massive robot on the screen. He narrowed his eyes, mentally calculating the sheer weight and kinetic force a machine of that scale might generate. He adjusted his posture slightly in his cramped seat, resting his chin thoughtfully on his paw.
The bus ride to Battle Center B was predictably uncomfortable. Po had to sit sideways across two seats, his large knees bumping against the handrails. He spent the short trip practicing his breathing exercises, inhaling deeply through his nose and letting the air out in a slow, controlled stream.
When the doors hissed open, the examinees filed out into the sunlight. Po stepped off the bus and craned his neck upward. Before them stood a towering, reinforced concrete wall that stretched as far as the eye could see. Set into the wall were a pair of colossal metal gates. Beyond them lay a perfect, life-sized replica of a bustling metropolis.
The crowd of teenagers gathered in front of the gates was a sea of nervous energy. Some students were doing aggressive jumping jacks, trying to shake off the jitters. Others were nervously adjusting support gear or muttering final strategies to themselves.
Po simply walked to the middle of the crowd and began his warm-up routine. He planted his wide feet firmly on the pavement, dropped into a low horse stance, and began to slowly cycle his arms. He moved with a languid, deliberate grace, stretching his thick muscles.
"Hey, check out the mascot," a tall boy with multiple arms whispered to a girl beside him, both of them staring at Po's large, moving belly. "You think he took a wrong turn at the theme park?"
"Do not be mean," the girl whispered back, though she looked equally skeptical. "But really... how is he going to keep up? He looks so soft. One hit from those robots and he will bounce right out of the arena."
Po heard them, of course. His large, rounded ears twitched, picking up the hushed conversation easily. He did not let it break his focus. He simply took another deep breath, letting the ambient noise of the crowd wash over him. He felt the solid earth beneath his padded feet.
"Right, let's start!" Present Mic's amplified voice suddenly blared from a hidden speaker tower overhead, startling nearly everyone.
The heavy metal gates groaned, slowly sliding open to reveal the sprawling fake city. The crowd of students hesitated, waiting for a countdown or a buzzer.
"What is wrong? There are no countdowns in real battles!" Present Mic shouted enthusiastically. "Run, run, run! The die has been cast!"
While the rest of the applicants were still processing the sudden start, a sudden, powerful gust of wind swept through the front ranks. The students gasped, stumbling slightly as they looked forward.
Po was already gone.
He had not lumbered or waddled. He had exploded forward. Pushing off the ground with immense, focused power, he covered the distance between the starting line and the city streets in a matter of seconds. He moved with a terrifyingly silent agility, his massive frame navigating the entrance with the fluid grace of flowing water.
Entering the main avenue of the mock city, the mechanical whirring of gears echoed against the faux-brick buildings. From a side alley, a green, dual-wheeled robot rolled out into the street. The number '2' was painted in stark white on its metallic chassis. Its red optical sensor locked onto Po immediately.
"Target acquired," a robotic, monotone voice declared.
The two-pointer accelerated, its metal arms pulling back to deliver a crushing, hydraulic punch.
A few other students had just rounded the corner, stopping in their tracks as they saw the massive panda standing directly in the robot's path.
"Hey! Get out of the way!" the boy with multiple arms yelled, clearly thinking Po was frozen in fear.
Po did not move away. He stepped forward. He softened his stance, letting his arms drop loosely to his sides, completely exposing his large, white stomach.
The robot swung its heavy metal fist directly into Po's midsection.
The students winced, expecting the panda to be violently launched backward. Instead, there was a dull, heavy thud. The hydraulic fist sank deep into the thick, dense layer of fur and fat. Po's body yielded perfectly, wrapping around the point of impact and completely absorbing the kinetic shock. He did not take a single step back.
The robot's optical sensor whirred, attempting to retract its arm, but Po moved. In a seamless continuation of the robot's own momentum, Po twisted his hips. He channeled the absorbed kinetic force down to his core, combined it with his own internal energy, and whipped his heavy arm forward in a devastating backhand strike.
His padded palm connected with the side of the robot's head.
The sound was deafening. The thick metal plating crumpled inward like cheap aluminum foil. Sparks showered the pavement as the entire upper half of the two-pointer was cleanly and violently torn off its chassis by the sheer concussive force of the blow. The ruined machinery crashed into the side of a nearby building, sliding to the ground in a heap of smoking scrap.
Po exhaled slowly, lowering his arm and returning to a relaxed posture. He gently patted his stomach once, then turned his head toward the main street to look for his next target.
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