I get in.
I don't scream, cry, or jump… out loud. In my head I run around the block three times.
[Welcome to UA — Class 1-A]
Adviser: Aizawa Shota
Advisory: Erasure-type Quirk detected. Effects on Sentai System: Unknown.
Unknown. That sets a nervous static under my skin.
Classroom 1-A feels like the first day at the world's most dangerous summer camp. I slip into a seat. A boy with a tail nods hello; a girl with earphone jacks gives a cool chin lift. Bakugo parks his feet on a desk like he invented rage. Midoriya takes a seat two rows back and nearly vibrates out of it.
A yellow sleeping bag unzips on the floor.
"Put on your PE uniforms and meet me on the field," says a man with tired eyes and wilder hair. "You've got ten minutes or you're expelled."
The class freaks out exactly the correct amount. Ten minutes later, we're in red-and-white tracksuits on a field shining with threat and opportunity.
Aizawa tosses a ball to me first. "You got the best score in the practical. How far can you throw a softball with your Quirk? Show me."
I meet his eyes. The Morpher warms under my sleeve like a heartbeat. "Is it okay to… go all out?"
He blinks, then shrugs in a way that means I want to see you try. "As long as you can stand afterward."
"Copy."
I step into the circle. My HUD does a lazy overlay of range and angle like it's helping a toddler. I roll my shoulders—
—and Aizawa's hair lifts.
His eyes blaze red. The air tightens. The Morpher goes cold.
[Warning: Erasure-type Field Detected]
Morph Access: Locked
Physical Boosts: Negated
Fallback: Base human capability + technique
The ball weighs twice what it did a second ago. My breath goes thin.
Aizawa's voice is bored enough to bite. "If you're reliant, you'll fail here. If your Quirk is all you are, you're a liability."
I grin, because I've watched this show, because spite is a flavor of courage. "Got it."
I crouch and breathe. No Crimson, no Azure, no Volt. Just me. I plant my front foot, twist my hips, keep the elbow high, and snap, putting everything into the mechanics the way sports anime taught me to respect.
The ball arcs like it got politely invited.
It lands. The screen prints 63.4 meters. Respectable… for a kid. But not UA-level outrageous.
Snickers from the peanut gallery. Bakugo cackles. Aizawa doesn't blink.
"Again," he says. "With your Quirk."
His hair drops. The world flickers back into high-saturation.
"Yellow—Volt Striker!"
The suit wraps me in lightning-slick plates. I bounce on my heels; static prickles my hair. I wind up—not just a throw, but a sprint in place that turns my calves into springs.
"Slipstream," I breathe. Blue flashes over yellow for a heartbeat, momentum carrying through. I plant, release, and "Overdrive" the last inch of my shoulder's snap.
The ball vanishes into the morning.
The screen needs a second to find its dignity. 824.7 meters.
Silence. Then a collective: "WOOOOAH!"
Bakugo's eyes go murder-big. Midoriya scribbles like a man possessed. Iida salutes the concept of effort. Uraraka claps, starry-eyed.
Aizawa lets his sleeping-bag face crack by one atom. "Noted." He turns to the class. "We're doing a full assessment. Whoever places last… might be expelled."
Groans, panic, some swearing. He smiles without joy. "Welcome to UA."
We run the gauntlet.
50m Dash: Yellow blurs; I keep it just shy of ridiculous because the point is to learn, not to paint a target on my back. I place in the top five. Iida wins because he's literally an engine with legs.
Grip Strength: Red hums; I kiss the upper limits and stop. No need to explode the machine. Yet.
Standing Long Jump: Blue for a micro-jet of water at my heels mid-launch. Aizawa's gaze brushes me; the suit flickers; I land short of what I wanted. So that's how it is. He can disrupt me in the middle of a move.
Side-to-Side Step Test: Yellow, obviously. I skate between cones, counting beats, feeling the "Color Strain" creep at the edges of my patience like red static. I breathe it out. Don't lean too hard into one color.
Between tests, the HUD pings.
[Team Node Discovered]
Sentai System resonates near allies.
Assist Tokens: 1 (Uraraka)
Effect: Once per scene, ally's Quirk resonance reduces Color Strain buildup by 30%.
Interesting. So being a Ranger isn't just about me. The Grid wants a team.
Aizawa steps closer during the sit-ups and watches me like a hawk. "Your morph tech—external or internal?"
"Mm?"
"Can it be stolen?" His eyes flick to my wrist.
I meet his stare. "Try?"
He doesn't. Not today. But I understand the test buried inside the test: Know your weaknesses before someone crueler does.
After the last event, he calls us in. "Results posted on your devices," he says. "Last place—Mineta. You're not expelled. It was a rational lie."
The class deflates in a single sigh. He zips himself back into the sleeping bag like a caterpillar that hates you. "But you should act as if it wasn't. Go home. Hydrate. Stretch. Tomorrow we start being heroes."
I linger. "Sensei."
He pauses in the doorway, only his messy hair visible.
"Your Quirk… cancels my access to the system. But there's bleed-through. Momentum, positioning, learned technique. If I can't brute force, I can route around."
"Route around me," he says, voice dry as chalk. "Or route around villains who are trying to kill you. Either way, good plan."
"I also… think my power gets stronger near people with the same goal. Team stuff."
"Then don't make the mistake of thinking you are the team," he says, and for a moment the tired man looks like a burned-out prophet. "Class 1-A is."
He leaves me with that, and the thought echoes all the way down to the Morpher.
[Daily Summary]
Sync Progress: 14%
New Nodes: "Slipstream Mastery I," "Overdrive Cooling I"
Weakness Logged: Erasure Disruption
Team Insight: Class 1-A synergy detected. Potential Zord circuits: Locked.
Rumor: Morphin Grid anomaly detected in city district: USJ.
The Grid hums, a chord that sounds like foreshadowing.
"USJ, huh?" I tell the sunset. "Guess the tutorial's almost over."
Somewhere in the city, a hand with too many hands flexes. Somewhere under a ruined dome, something born to kill heroes takes a breath.
And somewhere inside me, a thousand kid-Saturdays smile at the same time.