Morning mist wrapped Musutafu in a cold, damp hug. The rain from last night hadn't been heavy, just the kind that sneaks through your hoodie before you notice. Perfect weather for an exam—unfair, but unavoidable.
I stood outside my apartment, bag slung over one shoulder, jacket zipped halfway against the chill. Maybe it was colder than I thought.
Mom appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, a smile tugging at her lips. "ID? Lunch card?"
I checked my pockets. Both there. "Got 'em."
"And nerves?" she teased.
I shrugged. "Left those at home."
Her fingers smoothed down my collar. "Don't overdo it. Just be yourself."
I met her gaze and gave a small nod.
"Alright, my little hero in the making. U.A. awaits."
She turned and headed to the car. I smiled, shaking my head, then followed.
____
Two weeks came through faster than I expected. I was on my way to the U.A. recommendation exam—an exclusive test, not open to the public, and held a week before the main entrance exams.
You didn't get chosen by scoring well on mocks or signing up online. No, you had to be noticed or handpicked. Only thirty applicants made the cut, all teenagers with hero dreams. But only four slots were up for grabs.
Technically, three slots — because my existence had already locked one spot. No bragging intended, but yeah. That left the others to fight for the rest.
The ride was quick. No rush hour to slow us down. I adjusted my collar calmly as the car stopped before the U.A. gates.
Compared to months ago, my brain no longer felt overwhelmed by the constant flood of information from my Quirk. Ten months of practice had taught me control — I could now switch it on and off at will, which was a relief beyond words.
Mom stayed in the car, pressing her palm against the window, flashing me one last encouraging smile before the engine roared to life and she drove away.
'Alright. Here goes nothing,' I thought, stepping through the gates.
---
I'd been here once before, about six months ago—admiring the campus from the outside. But the inside? It was even more impressive.
I wasn't the only one thinking that. Several students were already here, scattered like tourists admiring the landmark. Most had probably been called in earlier, since the group was small.
I pushed those thoughts aside and walked toward the entrance lobby — a spacious hall of stone, glass, and warm lights bouncing off polished chrome handrails. Staff in navy vests checked IDs and sent candidates to their places.
I followed their lead, weaving through hallways to a double door. I saw others enter just before me.
Inside, the room was quieter than I expected. A medium-sized auditorium with raised seats like a movie theater, but sharper, classier — clearly state of the art.
I caught a few glances from other candidates as I crossed the room. Brief curiosity, quickly fading. Just another hopeful.
Maybe if I looked like some exotic animal with a bizarre Quirk, they'd care more.
---
I scanned the seats, looking for the two people most likely to be my classmates.
First, a guy who hadn't bothered to look up since I entered: half his hair white, the other half crimson red, with a burn scar running down his left cheek. Shoto Todoroki — the third protagonist everyone knew.
The second was a girl sitting near the front, hair tied back in a neat ponytail, posture straight and proud. She carried the quiet confidence of someone used to getting her way — Momo Yaoyorozu, I think.
"They're here," I thought. "Looks like my arrival didn't shake things up much."
I settled into my seat, resting my hands on the desk, the room slowly filling as more candidates arrived. Twenty-one were here already.
The clock struck nine.
---
Just as I was about to use my analysis Quirk to quietly study the competition, the door opened again.
A tall, slender man stepped in. Pale skin, messy shoulder-length black hair falling partly over half-open eyes. The deadpan expression of someone who didn't want to be anywhere else.
Shota Aizawa, no doubt. The scruffy "Eraserhead" pro hero who also happened to be my exam proctor.
"Good. You're all here," he said flatly. "I don't have to fail anyone yet, so we'll skip pleasantries."
He paced slowly to the front, eyes locking on each of us.
"You're here because someone believes you're worth the risk. That belief is fragile. One mistake, and it's gone."
His words hung in the air, sharp and clear.
"At U.A., failure isn't a warning — it's the result. You're not guaranteed anything just because you got recommended. If you think today is a formality, think again."
He clapped once. Staff began handing out thick exam booklets.
"Two hours. No bathroom breaks. No talking. No intentional Quirk use unless medically necessary. Any exemptions? Speak now."
Silence.
The papers moved down the rows.
"Questions?" Aizawa asked, eyes flicking around.
I raised my hand just enough to be noticed.
His gaze snapped to me.
"Yes?"
I glanced at my pile of papers. "I seem to have three extra booklets… is that a mistake?"
He paused.
"What's your name?"
"Ke… Rei Takumi," I said, biting back the urge to use my chosen name.
Recognition flickered in his eyes, but his face stayed unreadable.
"Oh. So you're him."
A murmur rippled through the room. Curious, confused looks shifted toward me.
Todoroki glanced up briefly. Yaoyorozu's brow furrowed in thought.
The fact that Aizawa knew me — or at least recognized me — stirred whispers. My "special" circumstances had clearly reached U.A. The recommendation came from the school itself after all.
Aizawa ignored the reactions and fixed me with a steady gaze.
"I've been informed about you," he said. "And no, that's not a mistake."
He stepped closer.
"U.A. thoroughly screens backgrounds, especially for recommended applicants. Setting aside your Quirk classification, your age puts you above the average candidate."
I blinked. "Why is that a problem?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Given your unique circumstances, your exam has been adjusted."
"Why?" I asked.
"That's a decision from school management. That's all you need to know. Want to know more? Take a wild guess."
He was dead serious, offering no further explanation.
Was I being targeted?
It felt like something out of a novel where the protagonist suddenly becomes the center of a conspiracy.
I frowned.
"So I have to finish three extra booklets in the same time as everyone else?"
"That's correct," Aizawa said simply.
I raised an eyebrow.
"That doesn't seem fair."
More murmurs.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed, not in anger but curiosity.
"Life isn't fair," he said flatly. "You want to be a hero, right? Fairness has nothing to do with evaluation. Only results."
I held his gaze.
"And do those results consider grading performance under handicapped conditions?"
The room quieted, tension settling like fog.
Aizawa blinked, really looked at me, then tilted his head like he was reassessing everything.
"Fair question."
He paused before continuing.
"Normally, your scores would be scaled appropriately. But this isn't a normal circumstance. You're a non-standard applicant."
His voice stayed calm, but something was different in his eyes.
"If you finish the full exam within the time limit, and your scores exceed the top percentile of the recommended group, you'll earn an internal merit distinction."
I raised a brow.
"Internal merit?"
"It won't affect your admission. But it may qualify you for early track evaluations — a provisional fast lane. Nothing guaranteed."
The murmurs quieted.
"Did he say 'early track'?" someone whispered.
"Yeah, but with the extra questions and no extra time? No way I'm signing up for that."
"Who even is this guy? Can he do that?"
"That's Eraserhead."
"I know that idiot. I meant the other guy? Eraserhead knew his name."
Early track? I blinked, confused. The term sounded important but vague.
Before anyone could speak, Aizawa glanced around.
"For those who think it's unfair, you can request the extended packet too. But you have to finish it in the same time, no extra margin."
The challenge hung in the air.
No one said a word.
Yaoyorozu's hand twitched but didn't rise. She looked thoughtful.
Todoroki didn't move at all.
Bakugo would have jumped at the chance already.
"Good. Now that's clear..." Aizawa turned to me. "You're free to quit if you don't want to take it. Otherwise, let's begin."
The screen behind him lit up with a giant timer.
The clock started counting down.
Aizawa folded his arms and leaned against the wall.
"I trust you're smart enough not to cheat. But cameras are watching."
Two hours. No breaks. Submit when you're done.
---
I glanced at the stack of papers again. Three extra booklets. Heavier, thicker — a test within a test.
'Why can't things ever go smoothly?'
Skimming the questions on the extra papers, my brow rose. They were harder — way beyond the usual junior high curriculum.
Expected, though. U.A. didn't hold back.
Three extra booklets, each tougher than the last.
Clearly, this wasn't just about my age — though that was part of it. More than that, it was a silent test: did I belong here? Or somewhere else?
I was almost eighteen, two years older than most here, and missing a decade of history no one fully understood.
U.A. wanted to see how far behind I was, and how fast I could catch up.
I flipped through the pages, fingers brushing over the weight of expectation.
"Are these questions from the first-year hero course?" I asked.
Aizawa nodded slowly.
"Most of it. Core and extended theory — public safety, law, support systems, and quirk ethics."
Right. All the stuff they could test without sending me into the field.
I leaned back. No time to argue.
Fair or not, it didn't matter. I picked up my pencil.
'Let's get this over with.'
---
The questions weren't hard — at least, not for me.
With a Quirk granting photographic memory and ten months of solid study, I moved quickly.
Pens scratched, pages turned. Some scribbled fast, others slow and steady.
I ignored them all, focused only on my papers.
The world slowed down.
I finished the first booklet, then the second, then the third.
Finally, I ticked the last answer and let out a breath.
"I'm done!" I said, raising my hand and stacking the papers neatly.
I looked up — then froze.
The room was silent. Dead silent.
No scribbles, no mutters.
Everyone was staring.
I glanced at the timer.
1 hour, 56 minutes, 7 seconds left.
I turned stiffly to see Aizawa staring at me, eyes narrowed.
"Um... finishing this early is allowed, right?"
____
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