The walk from their neighbourhood to the gates of U.A. High was not a quiet one.
Even in their crisp, matching uniforms, Nagato, Midoriya, and Bakugo drew attention like moths to flame. Heads turned wherever they passed, conversations paused mid-sentence, and pedestrian pace slowed as people stared at the trio as if they'd stepped straight out of a commercial for the next big hero team.
The comments came quick.
"Whoa… they're already U.A. students?"
"Look at them—so tall for their age, like actual pros."
One boy, maybe around their age but clearly not a U.A. entrant, leaned half into his friend's space and said "Waah… am I in a BL novel right now?"
Almost instantly, several male students nearby shot him looks of disgust.
"Oi, take your gay shit somewhere else," one muttered, turning away.
Midoriya, caught in the absurdity of the moment, laughed out loud.
Bakugo gave him a sideways look.
Nagato just exhaled through his nose, amused, but kept his eyes front.
The massive gates of U.A. swung open before them, revealing the pristine tiled courtyard and the looming main building.
The instant they stepped through, the ripples of chatter followed them in — students craning their necks, whispering.
Their footfalls echoed down the polished hallways until they found themselves in front of a heavy sliding door with a plaque reading:
Class 1-A.
Nagato reached forward first. The door rattled aside, revealing a classroom already half filled. The chatter dimmed almost instantly — eyes fixed on the newcomers, suspicious or impressed, as if aliens had walked in.
In the front row to the right, a tall boy with dark hair, a rigid posture, and square glasses was enthusiastically introducing himself to a red-haired student with pointed teeth and a vibrant grin. Noticing the three arrivals, the boy with glasses stiffened, excused himself from his conversation, and began walking toward them in a pace that was deliberate… almost mechanical.
Bakugo squinted, a faint cringe at the overly formal approach. Side-eye to Nagato: Here comes this guy.
The glasses boy stopped in front of them and extended his hand sharply to Nagato.
"Ohayo gozaimasu! I am Tenya Iida! Congratulations to you three — the top scorers of U.A.'s entrance examination! And especially you… Uzumaki Nagato! UA's history All-Time Top scorer!"
Yaoyoruzu Momo glanced at him thinking:- 'So , He is the one who surpassed me in written Exams. Fascinating."
Nagato blinked, not entirely sure how to meet such earnestness head-on.
"…Pleased to meet you to—"
"uwaaah…" His words interrupted by a yawn
The awkwardness shattered when all eyes shifted to a strange mound near the floor. A sleeping bag.
A person in a sleeping bag.
The yellow bag shifted, rolled upright with an unsettling caterpillar motion, and a tired face peeked from within.
The man began zipping himself free as the room collectively thought:
'Who the hell is this supposed to be?'
Standing now, the black-haired man rolled his sleeping bag at casual speed and tucked it under one arm.
"Six seconds," he said flatly. "It took you kids six seconds to quiet down."
"You kids are way too irr-"
But he stopped,
As His dark eyes, rimmed with fatigue, landed briefly on Nagato.
There was the faintest sigh.
"You kids need to be aware of your surroundings," he went on.
"My name is Shota Aizawa. I'm your new classroom teacher."
No response.
Just awkward silence.
"Come with me to the ground and Wear your gym clothes," Aizawa instructed.
A few students glanced around, surprised. Whispers formed:
'No introductions? No welcome assembly?' But no one spoke up.
Something in his tone made it clear — pushing back would be a mistake.
"Make it fast," Aizawa added, irritation threading his voice. "I don't have all day."
Minutes later, the class assembled on one of U.A.'s pristine outdoor training grounds, all wearing their deep-blue, white-striped gym uniforms. Aizawa stood before them, arms draped half in his capture scarf.
"I'll be taking your physical capability tests here. No objections."
Some students still couldn't help thinking:
'Isn't there supposed to be a welcoming ceremony?' But the thought of raising hands now felt too much like tempting fate.
Aizawa's eyes tracked down the line of students until they landed on Nagato.
"Uzumaki Nagato. Step forward."
Nagato did, head tipping in curiosity as Aizawa produced a standard yellow softball and tossed it his way.
"How far could you throw one of these back in junior high? Without your… abilities."
Nagato turned the ball over in his hand, considering. "…I don't know."
Aizawa sighed through his nose.
"I see. Then throw this one as far as you can. No holding back."
Nagato's brows rose slightly. "No holding back?"
"No holding back," Aizawa repeated.
Stretching his shoulder, Nagato stepped into position — feet staggered, body angled like a pro baseball pitcher.
The quiet across the field was electric.
Then he threw.
The instant his arm snapped forward, the ground cracked beneath his trailing foot, the air itself rippled under the force, and a shockwave slammed outward, ruffling hair and clothes across the class.
A distant sonic crack rang as the ball hurtled across the sky.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed, tracking the reading on his device. The digital counter climbed—
8,000 meters. 9,000. 12,000. 30,000. 70,000…
…and then the reading spun out, too high to calculate.
On the display board: ∞.
Gasps erupted across the group.
"A-An infinity score?!" one student blurted.
From the side, Kirishima grinned broadly. "So manly!"
Bakugo smirked. "Heh. Never ceases to show off."
Midoriya's eyes shone. "Amazing as always, Nagato."
Aizawa's gaze shifted. "Katsuki Bakugo. You're up."
Bakugo gripped the ball like it was an insult he intended to crush. He inhaled sharply, then ignited with a bang, he spinned like a beyblade , red burning streaks brightened the area, heat was increasing , The ground was burning and was scorched black.
A burning orb shot through.
Air rippled.
Shockwaves spread.
The air bucked with the force, rattling the edges of the group.
Reading: 1,700 meters… 2,400… and slowing. Pausing at 2669.
Aizawa's eyes flicked upward to conclude, but Bakugo's smirk deepened. "Wait."
With a casual snap of his fingers, a timed detonation went off mid-air.
A concussive wave blasted from the ball's embedded nitro, propelling it even farther before it began to arc down.
Final reading: 6,309 meters.
Students murmured in impressed surprise.
Bakugo, for his part, was… almost satisfied. Second place — and only to Nagato — meant the game was still on.
Midoriya's Turn
"Izuku Midoriya," Aizawa said.
Midoriya stepped forward, eyes narrowing in focus.
Power shimmered over his body in waves; a green aura sparked into visibility, leaking until it seemed to gather in the barely understandable phantom outline of a giant standing behind him.
Arcs of lightning danced at his feet.
Nearby, Bakugo's mind ticked:
'…and here I was the one to showing off.'
The next moment,
The Aura enshrouding him completely formed the shaped of an upper part of a muscular Human with eyes glowing red ; hair dancing. The giant's arms positioned the same way as Midoriya's.
Green lightening spread throughout , it roamed across him.
The Aura forming a small tornado around him.
With a strike of motion, Midoriya launched the ball.
The green aura flared into a luminous orb around it, making it glow like a star shooting heavenward.
The number climbed—6,301 meters—and locked.
Aizawa's mouth curved just slightly. "This batch," he said under his breath, "is amazing."
"Wow, this is so cool!" Ochako said openly, eyes wide.
Aizawa's gaze cut to her.
"Cool? —if you think this is cool. If you think this is a game , then you should know… the one who comes in last today will be expelled."
The words dropped like a stone.
Dread flickered across faces; shoulders tensed.
Nagato, scanning their varied expressions, caught movement — a girl with a strange, flickering presence, her form phasing in and out at the edges.
Her green eyes locked with his, purely by accident, but he couldn't quite look away.
She was… beautiful, and more than a little ethereal.
She noticed his gaze — and returned it.
Nagato's stomach lurched.
He broke eye contact quickly, mentally cursing himself.
Nearby, Toru Hagakure — completely invisible to most, but not to him — stiffened in sudden awareness. Her face flushed red.
'M-Masaka… can he see me???'
'No—that's impossible,' she told herself.
'Just a whim.'
Even so, her gaze lingered far longer than she intended.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nagato realised she was still watching.
'She's definitely thinking I'm a creep. Great.'