Hi! As you can see, I made a lil chart of who's in percussion. You can also see my other notes for this story, but ignore them. I have another whole page.

Bakugo sat on the top of the folded bleachers, using the height and difficulty of climbing it as intimidation. A few kids came in to the gym, giving him a small, nervous wave. They sat on the floor in front of him, chattering amongst themselves about their summers.
"Alright, shut up. We're gonna run through some basics, then do a practice march off. This season, I'm going to make sure-"
"Sorry! I got lost!" Exclaimed a sprinting Kirishima, sliding down to the floor and sitting. Bakugo glared, ticked off that he hadn't just followed someone else in the percussion section.
"I fucking swear- whatever. Fucking do that again and we're gonna have a problem. Got it?" Kirishima nodded, freaked out by the blond's harsh demeanor. "Now, as I was saying, I'll make sure we get a higher percussion score this year. I don't care if you're tired, or hungry, or thirsty. We're going to work our asses off and beat Shiketsu, Ketsubutsu, Seiai, and, of course, our rivals: The Villains. Now, I'm going to see what you remember. Block up," he climbed down from his perch. The group hurried into formation, with Kirishima in front, the three snares in the middle, and Three basses in the back. A boy with silver hair raised his hand. Bakugo nodded at him.
"We, uh, didn't do the welcome ritual," he said.
"You're right, Steel Head. Shitty Hair newbie, get over here."
Shocked by being called out, Kirishima hesitated, but still walked over. The lights flicked off, and he heard footsteps. People started chanting.
"Noob, noob, noob," they repeated, the voices circling him. A small light shone in front of him.
"Don't fuck it up, okay? We're gonna get to finals, as long as you newbie don't suck ass. Understand?"
"Yes. I'll do my best."
"Let's hope that's enough."