The morning started off quietly—too quietly, if you asked me. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch in my pajamas, spoon in hand, cereal soggy from neglect. My eyes were fixed on the old analog clock ticking above the TV. It was already past 9 a.m., and still nothing.
"You're going to bore a hole in that clock if you keep staring," my mom teased, walking past me with a basket of laundry in her arms.
"I'm not staring," I muttered.
Dad chuckled from the kitchen table, his coffee mug steaming in front of him. "You sure? You've been looking at it every three minutes since breakfast started."
I exhaled and slumped back. "U.A. said they'd send the results within three days. This is day three. What if it got lost?"
Mom popped her head out from the hallway. "Daichi, relax. You literally vaporized the head off a zero-pointer. I doubt they forgot you."
"Actually, I didn't vaporize—" I started, but Dad waved a hand dismissively.
"You get what she means. You did great. No way they're ignoring you."
Just as I was about to grumble something in response, the doorbell rang.
Three sets of eyes met instantly. My heart jumped in my chest.
"I'll get it!" I shouted, nearly knocking over the coffee table in my rush to the front door. I flung it open.
No one was there. I looked down. A white envelope with a golden U.A. seal sat squarely on our doorstep.
My breath caught. I picked it up like it was made of glass.
"I got it!" I yelled, already halfway back into the living room.
Mom and Dad came in, drying hands and setting mugs down. I sat on the couch, heart hammering, and peeled open the envelope.
Inside was a rectangular device—a mini-hologram projector. The moment I pressed the button, a familiar booming voice filled the room.
"I AM HERE… as a projection!"
The hologram of All Might himself appeared in our living room, grinning wide as ever.
"Daichi Ishigami, young man! I hope you're ready, because I have good news!"
He launched into an explanation about the written scores, the combat portion, and rescue points. I tried to keep cool, but I could feel Mom and Dad staring at me with wide eyes.
"You displayed incredible situational awareness, marksmanship, and self-restraint," the hologram continued. "You neutralized multiple threats, protected fellow examinees, and even eliminated a zero-pointer with surgical precision. For these acts, we have awarded you a total of…"
A dramatic pause.
"…Ninety-eight points, placing you at the top of the entire entrance exam!"
I blinked.
"What," I said, eloquently.
The hologram flickered out after a few words of encouragement, but I didn't register them. I just sat there, the silence stretching.
Then Mom screamed.
"My baby boy got first place!"
Dad let out a low whistle, grinning like a madman. "That's my son! First place out of hundreds!"
"I just—what?" I repeated, still stunned. "I didn't even go all out."
"Well, apparently your version of 'holding back' is still top-tier hero material," Mom said, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
"Now we definitely have to celebrate," Dad said, already pulling out his phone. "Dinner out tonight. My treat."
I finally cracked a smile. "Only if it's yakiniku."
"You read my mind."
—
Later that evening, we arrived at one of our favorite local yakiniku restaurants, Sora Grill. A cozy place, not too fancy, but the food was always spot-on. I was just glad we managed to snag a booth. The place was packed—probably other families out celebrating their kids getting into U.A. too.
Mom ordered enough beef, pork, and chicken to feed a small battalion. I helped set up the grill while Dad ordered drinks. As we settled into our seats, I found myself smiling at nothing in particular. This felt good. Comfortable.
"I'm still in shock," Mom said, pouring tea for the three of us. "I mean, I knew you'd pass, but first place? You've always been clever, but that was…"
She trailed off, searching for a word.
"Badass," Dad supplied.
"Language," she muttered, smacking his shoulder playfully.
I laughed, still riding the high. "It feels kind of surreal, honestly. Like, I didn't even mean to take first place. I just… did what felt right."
"That's how you know it's genuine talent," Dad said with a nod.
Just then, I heard a familiar voice behind us.
"…Yeah, I'll just take the miso soup and pork belly—huh?"
I turned my head to see Kyoka Jiro, the girl from the entrance exam, standing behind the booth next to ours. She was mid-sentence, clearly ordering, but had stopped when our eyes met.
"Oh," she said, blinking. "Hey."
I smiled. "Hey, Jiro."
She gestured toward her table. "Looks like we're neighbors for the night."
Then I noticed the people with her—an older woman with short black hair, and a guy with a punk aesthetic and spiky purple hair, full of piercings and dressed like he was about to headline a metal concert.
"You with your folks?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, then glanced to her right. "These are my parents—Mom, Dad. Mom, Dad, this is Daichi Ishigami. We met during the exam."
Jiro's mom offered a warm smile and small bow. "Nice to meet you, Daichi-kun."
Her dad, on the other hand, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, sizing me up with an expression that could curdle milk.
I awkwardly bowed. "Nice to meet you too, sir, ma'am."
Then I felt a foot nudge my shin under the table.
Mom.
I turned to her and found her grinning like a fox. "So this is Jiro, huh?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Don't."
She ignored me completely and leaned over to Jiro. "You know, Daichi mentioned you after the exam. Said you were 'cool' and everything."
Jiro's face went pink. "Oh. Uh. Thanks?"
I groaned. "Mom, seriously—"
But it was too late. She was in full-on matchmaker mode.
"You know," she said, voice syrupy, "Daichi's never said that about any other girl before."
Jiro looked like she wanted to disappear. "W-Well, he's pretty cool too."
Across from us, Jiro's dad was now glaring at me like I'd just promised to steal his daughter and join a villain gang.
Dad leaned over and muttered into my ear, "You're in deep now, son."
I gulped. "Yeah. I noticed."
"Give her your number," Mom whispered. "Don't be shy."
I shot her a horrified look. "What?!"
But before I could protest further, Jiro's mom chimed in. "Kyoka, dear, didn't you say you wanted to ask him something about the robots during the exam?"
"I—yeah," Jiro said, catching on. "Mind if I text you about it?"
I nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure. Here—" I handed her my phone so she could enter her number.
As she typed, I could still feel her dad's eyes boring into me like twin drills of judgment.
"I promise I'm not a pervert or anything," I said quickly.
"Hmm," her dad grunted. "We'll see."
Jiro handed my phone back, cheeks slightly flushed. "Thanks."
We returned to our meals after that, though I could feel the undercurrent of awkward tension every time I glanced toward their table. But honestly?
I didn't mind. I got her number. And for the first time in both my lives, a girl had blushed while talking to me.
That was progress.
—
Back at home later that night, I tossed off my jacket and collapsed onto the couch. Mom was already cooing.
"I saw that little exchange. 'I promise I'm not a pervert,' really? That's what you led with?"
I buried my face in a cushion. "Kill me."
She just laughed, while Dad came back from the kitchen with a glass of juice.
"Better start practicing your guitar," he said.
"What? Why?"
"She's from a musical family. You need to impress the in-laws."
"Oh my god," I groaned.
Despite their teasing, I felt strangely at ease. That day had been something out of a cheesy anime, but it made me feel… alive.
As I stared up at the ceiling, my phone buzzed.
New message from: Kyoka
[Hey, thanks for earlier. Let's hang out sometime before school starts? :)]
I stared at the message for a moment, then smiled and typed back.
[Sure. Sounds fun.]
Yeah, I thought. This new life? It might just be worth the weirdness.