"H-hyah...!"
Ochaco couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her as she stared at Toga, who was now openly displaying the aura of a full-fledged villain.
However, Ochaco was a hero-in-training, handpicked from a sea of applicants. She quickly steeled her nerves and forced her trembling heart into submission.
She clung to the logic that this was, after all, only a drill. Unlike Bakugo, surely Toga wouldn't actually try to hurt her. This terrifying persona had to be an act—a performance for the sake of the exercise.
Of course, Toga had no such intention. In this moment, she was driven by a singular, overwhelming urge: to drink Ochaco's blood.
But this impulse was born of affection. Because Ochaco had made a good first impression... because Ochaco was cute... because she wanted to be Ochaco's friend.
I love you, I want to be close to you, and so... I must have your blood.
It was a paradox of innocent malice. For Ochaco, raised in a wholesome, stable environment, deciphering such twisted logic was an impossible task.
Interpretations aside, Ochaco's instincts were sharp. Shifting gears, she turned her back on Toga and bolted.
She wasn't merely running away. The "nuclear weapon" model—the Heroes' victory condition—was in this very room, and Ochaco was currently closer to it. She decided to secure the objective before a fight could even break out.
It was a sound tactical judgment. In fact, it was likely the best move she could have made. The grim reality was that the gap in combat ability between the two was immense; the difference between a Force user and a mundane human was simply that vast.
However, she made a fatal error: she sprinted in a straight line for the model without using the surrounding pillars for cover.
It was a move she would quickly regret.
"Nooo! Ochaco-chan, wait for me!"
"Wha—!?"
Toga was a Force user.
Without a moment's hesitation, she unleashed a Force Pull. She exerted an invisible tether of gravity, dragging her target toward her—a fundamental technique of the Jedi, and by extension, the Sith.
With no room to maneuver, Ochaco was powerless to resist. She was yanked backward through the air, falling right into Toga's waiting arms.
"Gotcha! ♪"
"Eek!"
Toga locked her in a tight embrace from behind.
It wasn't just a hug. She utilized the grappling techniques she had been drilled in for the past six months, pinning Ochaco so she couldn't easily slip away. Being aware of the general nature of Ochaco's "Quirk," Toga was careful to keep the girl's fingertips from touching her.
Caught in a bind reinforced by the Force, Ochaco—who had no formal martial arts training—was utterly trapped.
"Hehe. Ochaco-chan, you're wonderful. I don't know why, but I feel like we smell the same."
"Wh-what are you talking about...? Wait, hey! What are you doing!? Stop... don't sniff me like that...!"
Still holding her fast, Toga buried her face in the crook of Ochaco's neck and inhaled deeply. Her expression grew increasingly intoxicated.
In the monitor room below, a short boy named Mineta—whose interest in such things was triple that of a normal person—felt his heart rate skyrocket at the sight of Toga's flushed face and wandering tongue. But that was neither here nor there.
"I'm sorry... I can't hold back anymore. I'm sorry, Ochaco-chan...!"
"Wait, wha—!? H-Himiko-chan, you don't mean you're... that way!? Hyaaa! A-A needle!?"
Slurp... slurp...
Just as Ochaco tried to twist around despite the awkward angle, Toga struck. With a practiced motion, she plunged a syringe—drawn from nowhere—into Ochaco's thigh while her attention was diverted.