Chapter 7: The Weight of a Name
The next morning, Minato's face was everywhere.
"YELLOW FLASH STRIKES AGAIN!" screamed the headline of the Daily Hero Post. "EDGESHOT'S MYSTERY PROTÉGÉ UNMASKED IN DARING HIGHWAY TAKEDOWN!" blared a popular online news portal. The story was electric. The quiet, Quirkless boy who had miraculously saved a falling girl months ago was not a one-time wonder. He was the student of the Number Four Hero, possessing a speed-based Quirk so potent it was already earning him a moniker from the press.
In a world saturated with heroes, creating this kind of buzz was rare. For it to happen to an unlicensed teenager just one month before the U.A. High entrance exam—the single most important event for any aspiring hero—was unprecedented. The world's curiosity was not just piqued; it was ignited.
At home, Minato's family watched the reports with a mixture of awe and deep-seated worry. The phone rang, and Minato answered, already knowing who it would be.
"Minato," came Edgeshot's calm voice, though it was tinged with a rare note of regret. "I am calling to apologize. I miscalculated the media's response time. My intention was to give you field experience, not to expose you to the world. I am sorry to have put you in this position."
Minato leaned against the wall, watching his own face on the television screen. "It's not your fault, Sensei," he said, his voice mature beyond his years. "I knew the risks. I should have worn a mask or a hood. It was a mistake on my part, too."
"Be that as it may, the consequences are now a reality," Edgeshot continued. "This will affect you at the exam. You will not enter U.A. as an unknown quantity. The other examinees will know who you are. The proctors, who are all Pro Heroes themselves, will be watching you with heightened expectations. Some may see you as a prodigy; others may see you as an overhyped rookie who got lucky. Be prepared for both."
Minato understood. He was no longer just another applicant. He was a story. And every story comes with pressure.
Across Japan, other prospective examinees were also preparing, and the news of the "Yellow Flash" was a new, unexpected variable in their own meticulously laid plans.
In a small, cluttered apartment, a green-haired, freckled boy stared at the news report on his phone, his eyes wide with a mixture of pure awe and crushing anxiety. He frantically scribbled in a notebook labeled "Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13." "Quirk: Apparent instantaneous translocation. Requires a 'mark' to function? Extremely high tactical potential. Speed seems to rival even top-tier Pros…" He looked down at his own hand, from which a new, barely-contained power sometimes thrummed with a life of its own. He had a great power, gifted to him by his idol, but did he have the skill to match someone like this?
In his own home, a boy with explosive, spiky-blond hair scoffed at the television. "Tch," Katsuki Bakugo sneered, slamming his fist into his open palm, creating a sharp crack-pop! of a small explosion. "So what? Some teleporting freak got lucky twice. He's just another damn extra in my story. I'll be Number One, with or without a fancy ninja teacher."
Elsewhere, a cheerful girl with a round face and warm brown hair watched the report with a determined sparkle in her eyes. "Wow, he's amazing!" Ochaco Uraraka said to herself. "Everyone trying to get into U.A. is so strong! It's scary, but… I have to do my best, too! For my parents!" She clapped her hands together, a look of unshakeable resolve on her face.
And in a meticulously organized study, a tall, serious boy with glasses pushed them up his nose with his middle finger. "His tactical deployment of his Quirk in apprehending the suspects was highly efficient and minimized collateral damage," Tenya Iida observed, analyzing the footage like a scholar. "An admirable quality for a prospective U.A. student! I must ensure my own performance in the exam is equally flawless and by-the-book!" He immediately stood up and began performing perfect, high-speed leg stretches.
Back in his room, Minato turned off the TV. The noise of the world, the speculation, the headlines—it all faded into the background. His gaze fell upon the official U.A. application form lying on his desk, filled out and ready to be sent.
The weight of a name, the pressure of expectation, the challenge of the other applicants—none of it mattered as much as the simple truth of the task ahead.
.
.
.