Poor Sakura finds herself displaced in a different dimension and reverted back to age fifteen... and she's not the only one in that predicament. Now stuck in a world full of heroes and Quirks with a few past enemies, too many Uchihas, her sensei, an...
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A CERTAIN FEMALE SCIENTIST WAS trying to contact a coworker of hers with her eyes glued to the TV screen. The UA Sports Festival was being aired and ever since she saw the obstacle course race, she had been spamming her coworker like crazy.
And then a commercial break happened and she finally received a call.
"Holy shit, Hanae, what the hell have you been doing?!" Miyumi screeched into the phone. "I've sent you, like, a hundred texts already!"
"A hundred and forty-seven, actually," Hanae huffed. "And I busy trying to get my taxes in order."
"Yeah, whatever, have you watched the UA Sports Festival yet?" Miyumi asked hastily.
"No, I told you I was trying to get—"
"—Your taxes in order, yeah, okay, whatever. You cannot believe who's on TV right now!" She exclaimed. "It's the pink haired alien from the lab! The one we lost!"
There was silence on the other end of the line. And then: "Shit."
Shit indeed.
─────•~❉🌸❉~•─────
Meanwhile, Sakura's face was burning with humiliation. Beside her, the fellow female members of class 1-A were undergoing the same humiliation as her. Up on the stands, she could see Kakashi aiming his phone at her, no doubt taking pictures. Obito was gawking like an idiot at his side while Gaara was staring intently with a face redder than his hair.
Momo nearly keeled over with shame. "How did I let myself get fooled by Mineta's stupid prank...?" She internally wept. "I even made the uniforms too... "
"Those idiots...!" Jiro hissed angrily, using the pompoms to cover up her bare stomach.
"I'm going to kill them," Sakura vowed under her breath. "Mineta's lucky he failed the second round. As for Kaminari... well, he better pray that we're not matched together."
"Hope everyone enjoys the little recreational competition!" Present Mic shouted as the everyone else filed onto the stage. She could hear the astonished murmurs of her peers when they saw her. "Once that's over, we're on the final event. Between the remaining members of the four winning teams... we'll have a formal tournament! A series of one-on-one battles!"
Midnight walked up with a box titled 'lots'. "The matchups will be decided by drawing lots. Once that's settled, we'll move on to the festivities and then the tournament itself! It's up to each of you finalists whether or not you participate in the fun. I expect some of you would rather take a breather and save your strength. Now let's start with the first-place team..."
One by one, each of the teams were called up to write their names down on a slip of paper to dump into the lot box. Ten minutes later and the matches were picked.
