Ibara Shiozaki.
That was his partner for the practical exam.
Monoma stared at the pairing a second longer than he meant to, as if the paper might politely change its mind if he waited long enough.
Shiozaki was… well, Shiozaki. A gentle presence wrapped in a calm voice, the type of girl who could make the classroom feel quieter just by breathing. In the sports festival, she'd looked serene—almost holy.
Almost.
Because anyone who mistook "holy" for "harmless" learned fast.
He still remembered the school festival match. Kaminari from Class A had swaggered in like it would be over in seconds, fired off his biggest attack like some dramatic finisher, and Shiozaki had simply… endured it. Blocked it. Then ended him with a clean, efficient inevitability that made the whole thing feel less like a fight and more like a sentence being carried out. And then she went right back to praying.
Her Quirk, Vines, were self-explanatory. Her hair became a mass of sharp, controllable vines—able to bind opponents, shield her body, or strike with a precision that made the word "gentle" sound like a prank.
She was a strong partner.
Hell, a great partner, even.
But she carried two extremely inconvenient problems.
The first was simple: her Quirk was a mutation-type.
Which meant Monoma couldn't copy it and call it a day. If he wanted to pass, he'd have to make it work with what he already had—Steel, Twin Impact, and Big Fist—and whatever Shiozaki herself could do.
The second problem was worse.
Their philosophies were completely out of sync.
Like his "anime counterpart," Monoma didn't mind playing dirty if it meant pushing Class B forward. Tricks, feints, misdirection, mental pressure—anything that tilted the odds. Shiozaki, on the other hand, treated fair and square like it was sacred. In Joint Training Arc, she'd practically condemned Shishida on principle just for suggesting she act as a decoy, as if the words "strategy" and "sin" were interchangeable at that moment.
Monoma exhaled through his nose.
This was going to be complicated.
But complicated or not, he was going to make it work.
He walked over to her desk with measured steps, like approaching a shrine where the priestess might bite.
Shiozaki sat neatly with her hands together, eyes closed, devout as always. The morning light caught the edges of her uniform and softened the whole scene, like the classroom had been filtered just for her—turned down in contrast, turned up in purity.
Monoma put on his best neutral smile. "It seems we'll be partners, huh… Shiozaki-san?"
Her eyes opened slowly.
And the look she gave him had the chill of a confession scene gone wrong. Like he was the unnamed extra who existed solely to get rejected and make the heroine look even more untouchable.
For someone so serene, her gaze could be sharp—beautiful in an unnerving way, like one of those ice-cold heroines who could freeze a room with a glance, but you could tell there was something softer underneath for the people she actually let close.
There was the faintest hint of unease in her expression, as if she'd just been told her group-project partner was a nationally ranked troublemaker.
"It seems that is the Lord's wish," she said, voice smooth and solemn. "If it must be so, then let us seek salvation together in this upcoming exam."
Monoma had to fight not to blink.
Even while she looked at him like he might spontaneously commit a sin right in front of her, his brain offered a completely unhelpful thought.
…She's actually really cute.
Class B really didn't fall behind Class A—not even in terms of beauty.
Shiozaki's dark green hair and matching eyes reminded him of nature itself—calm, untouched, and quietly intense. Even in the standard-issued U.A. uniform, she had the kind of presence that made people look twice without meaning to. Strong features paired with that serious demeanor gave her a mature charm that was, frankly, unfair.
Almost like an angel descending from the heavens.
Of course, angel was just a figure of speech.
But with how devout Shiozaki was, and how effortlessly beautiful she looked while being intimidating at the same time, the comparison felt dangerously appropriate.
"…What are you doing?" she asked.
Monoma froze.
Mixed with the awkward silence and his own ridiculous expression, it hit him that he'd been staring into her eyes far too intently. From her perspective, he must've looked like a total creep—like a lion sizing up its next hunt.
He cleared his throat a little too quickly, as if coughing could physically eject the thought from his head.
"N-nothing," Monoma said, snapping his gaze away like he'd touched something hot. "Anyway. We should be able to pass with ease as long as we work together."
Shiozaki's expression softened, just a touch. Then she smiled, and it was disarmingly gentle—like sunlight slipping through leaves.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Even if you employ… unsavory methods, I believe I can count on you, Monoma-kun, to overcome the Lord's trial."
Monoma's brain immediately betrayed him again.
She's beyond cute.
He didn't move, but he felt like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose with his soul. He forced himself back onto the rails before his thoughts got any worse.
With a slow breath, Monoma straightened, shoulders squaring like he'd just stepped into a strategy meeting. "Alright," he said, voice sharpening into focus. "Let's think of a plan."
And then he laid it all out—every Quirk he had on hand, what each one could do, what he couldn't do, and exactly how they could combine Shiozaki's strength with his limited arsenal.
He wasn't a monster like Todoroki. He wasn't a prodigy like Mirio. He couldn't just brute-force his way through with talent alone.
If he wanted to win, he would have to use everything he had at his disposal.
Because this final exam wasn't going to clear itself.