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--XXXX--
One week.
That's how long Class 1-A had been in the dorms since the Kamino incident.
One week of healing, of processing, and of a strange, fractured new normal. The rest of the world was in turmoil, grappling with the retirement of All Might, but within the walls of the dorms, a different, quieter evolution was taking place.
The final days leading up to the Provisional Hero License Exam were spent in a state of focus. Gym Gamma, once a place of hesitant new beginnings, was now a high-intensity workshop.
Izuku Midoriya, his heart still a battlefield of conflicting ideals, had thrown himself into his training. He had finally mastered One For All: Full Cowling, the green sparks of energy now a stable, thrumming aura instead of a flickering, out-of-control wildfire. More importantly, he had taken Akaza's advice to heart. His fighting style was no longer a clumsy, arm-focused imitation of All Might. He was all legs now, his Shoot Style a series of powerful, lightning-fast kicks that allowed him to strike with force and maintain his mobility, his precious arms held in reserve.
Katsuki Bakugo was, for the first time, training with a silent focus. His rage, which had once been a sloppy, all-consuming explosion, was now being channeled. He was learning to fly, not by using his blast. But smaller AP Shots. It was faster, more precise, and his aerial movements were becoming less like a chaotic firework and more like a guided missile.
He was merging his explosions with the martial arts kicks Akaza had urged him into learning, his new style a brutal, high-impact dance of destruction.
Shoto's progress was the most visually stunning. He no longer fought as two separate people. He stood in the center of his training area, a storm of opposing elements. He would create a wave of ice, then instantly vaporize it with a focused blast of fire to create a smokescreen. He was practicing using his left side to rapidly raise his body temperature, allowing him to unleash his ice attacks in faster, more massive waves without the drawback of frostbite. He was a walking, tactical, natural disaster.
The rest of the class was pushing their limits as well. Momo, her confidence shattered and now slowly being rebuilt, was practicing her creation speed, timing herself on how fast she could create complex objects like cannons and insulated blankets. Uraraka was in a corner, meditating while floating small pieces of rubble, her face pale as she fought to expand her nausea threshold.
In a far corner, away from everyone, the fourth pillar of the class was training. Rumi, her arm finally free of its cast, was a white blur. Her scar had healed into a thin, stark-white line over her right eye, a permanent reminder of her failure. It drove her.
"Again!" she yelled, her voice hoarse.
She leaped, her legs glowing with a red aura, and kicked down.
THUMP
The air under her foot compressed, holding her aloft.
THUMP THUMP
She was doing it. Geppo. She managed five clumsy, powerful steps in the air before her concentration broke and she fell, landing perfectly on her feet.
Akaza stood opposite her, his arms crossed, a small, proud smile on his face. "Your form is sloppy. You're using too much power. It's not a stomp, Rumi. It's a tap. You're kicking the air ten times. Use your speed, not just your strength."
"Shut up, I'm getting it!" she shot back, but she was grinning, already coiling to try again.
He watched her, his own training a quiet, internal process. His mind was on his new theory, the Internal Kinetic Reinforcement. The Shock Armor.
He could feel the micro-vibrations humming under his own skin, a low, thrumming frequency that was becoming his new base state. He hadn't had a chance to test it against a real blow yet, but he could feel it, a dense, kinetic shield waiting to be struck. He was ready for the next test.
"Alright, that's enough," Aizawa's voice cut through the gym. "Go. Get changed. The bus for the exam leaves in thirty."
So the class did. And soon they were ready with their hero costumes, ready to go.
The bus ride to the National Dagobah Arena was quiet. The oppressive, awkward silence of that first day in the dorms had faded, but the class was still fractured. The "fakes," as Bakugo still thought of them, sat in the front, their conversation a nervous, hushed murmur.
In the back, the "Big 4" sat in their own intimidating bubble. Akaza had the window seat, his eyes closed, listening to music. Rumi was next to him, her head on his shoulder, fast asleep. Across the aisle, Bakugo and Shoto sat in silence, both staring forward, a shared, grim understanding passing between them. They weren't friends, not really. But they were allies. They were the ones who understood, OR they were just too shy to admit that they were friends.
When they arrived, the sheer scale of the event was overwhelming. The arena was a massive, dome-like structure, and the plaza in front of it was a sea of students from every hero course in Japan.
"Whoa… that's…" Kirishima said, his eyes wide. "So many…" Izuku stammered, already vibrating with nervous energy.
"Stay focused," Aizawa grumbled, leading them through the crowd. "Don't get intimidated. Just do what you've been trained to do."
As they walked through the massive entrance hall, a new, intense presence made them all pause. A tall, powerfully built student in a simple, high-collared Shiketsu High uniform was standing in their path. His head was shaved, and his eyes burned with a passionate, almost manic intensity.
It was Inasa Yoarashi, the student who had scored the top marks in the U.A. entrance exam but had mysteriously declined his acceptance.
His gaze swept over the 1-A students, passing over Izuku, ignoring Bakugo, and even skipping Shoto. His eyes landed, with the force of a physical impact, on Akaza.
The hall seemed to fall silent. It was a clash of two titans. Inasa's eyes were a blazing inferno of passionate, heroic spirit.
While Akaza just stared at him as if her were an idiot. But Akaza knew he was a strong idiot.
He could feel the other boy's battle spirit. It wasn't calm or controlled. It was a storm. An incredibly powerful typhoon of raw energy.
Inasa, in turn, felt Akaza's presence. It was the opposite of his own. It wasn't hot. It was cold. It wasn't a storm. It was a vacuum. A terrifying, controlled nothingness that promised absolute finality.
Inasa's hands clenched. He took a single, booming step forward, his shadow falling over Akaza. The class tensed, Bakugo's palms starting to crackle.
"I AM…" Inasa roared, his voice so loud it shook the dust from the rafters. He then slammed his forehead into the polished stone floor, the impact creating a spiderweb of cracks.
"SO VERY SORRY FOR BEING SO INTENSE!"
The entire hall went dead silent. Class 1-A just stared, completely baffled.
Inasa sprang back up, a wide, passionate grin on his face, blood trickling from his forehead. "I WAS SO EXCITED TO MEET THE FAMOUS CLASS 1-A THAT MY SPIRIT OVERHEATED! I WISH YOU ALL THE VERY BEST OF LUCK!"
He turned, his cape flaring, and marched away, leaving a stunned, confused, and slightly terrified Class 1-A in his wake.
"...What... the hell... was that?" Kaminari whispered.
"He's… kind of passionate." Izuku offered weakly.
"He's a psycho," Bakugo grumbled.
"He's strong," Akaza said, his voice quiet. The other three turned to him.
"Don't underestimate him."
"Hah! Eraser! I knew I'd find you here!"
A new voice, a high-pitched, cheerful laugh, broke the tension. A woman with green, messy hair and a wide, toothy grin bounded over, getting right in Aizawa's personal space.
"Ms. Joke," Aizawa sighed, his entire body language screaming 'kill me now'.
"It's been so long! I saw you on TV at the press conference! You were looking as grim and tired as ever! I loved it! Hey, hey, let's get married!"
"No," Aizawa deadpanned.
"Aww, another quick rejection! You're so cruel!" she cackled, turning to the class. "Wow! This is your famous Class 1-A! The ones who've fought real villains! You guys are celebrities!"
Her own class, from Ketsubutsu Academy, filed in behind her, looking far more relaxed than the Shiketsu students. Their leader, a handsome boy with short black hair, stepped forward, his hand outstretched and a bright, friendly smile on his face.
"Yo! I'm Yo Shindo! It's an honor to meet you all! We've all been watching you since the Sports Festival! Your class's unity and strength under pressure are inspiring!"
He shook hands with Izuku, Iida, and Kirishima, his smile never wavering.
"We're all nervous, of course, but let's all do our best out there!"
"Wow, he's so friendly!" Uraraka whispered.
"A shining beacon of sportsmanship!" Iida added, deeply moved.
In the back, Bakugo just scoffed. "His face is pissing me off."
"He's lying," Akaza added, he could easily see past his mask.
"Alright, U.A., move it!" an announcer called. "Orientation is in five minutes."
Aizawa, grateful for the excuse, herded his class away. "Let's go. And don't talk to strangers."
As they walked off, Ms. Joke's playful demeanor faded slightly. She watched them go.
"You know, Eraser," she called out, making him pause. "Every year at this exam, there's a tradition. It's called the 'U.A. Crunch'."
Aizawa turned, his expression unreadable.
"All the other schools… they're gunning for you. Your class is the one to beat. They're all gonna team up to thin U.A.'s numbers in the first phase. You didn't tell them, did you? That they're the number one target for over a hundred other students?" She laughed. "It's gonna be a slaughter! Your class is at a huge disadvantage!"
Aizawa just stared at her, his face flat. "Is that so?"
He turned to leave. "You're right. They are targeted. They have been all year. By the League of Villains."
The smile on Joke's face vanished.
Aizawa looked back, and for the first time, she saw him smile. It was a small, cold, terrifyingly confident expression. "This year, I'm not worried about my class. I think the other schools should be worried about them."
He thought of his "Big 4." He pictured Bakugo, a flying, explosive force of nature. He pictured Todoroki, a walking natural disaster of fire and ice. He pictured Rumi, a blur of motion that could shatter concrete. And he pictured Akaza, a boy who had systematically executed two high-level villains.
"You'll see," Aizawa said, walking away, leaving a stunned and suddenly very unnerved Ms. Joke in the hallway.
--XXXX--
The test coming up.
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