Izumi and the other five students stepped out into the training grounds.
The bright light from the entrance obscured their vision for a moment. As their eyes adjusted, the scene came into focus.
Several other groups were entering from different gates, each batch consisting of six students.
Izumi quickly spotted Ayaka and Momo among the different groups.
At the centre of the massive arena stood a sprawling obstacle course. A complex mix of high walls, rotating platforms, balance bridges, terrain shifts, suspended tunnels, and pressure traps.
Beyond the course stood a large glass-panelled observation booth, behind which Aizawa and Present Mic were stationed. Rows of large screens surrounded the area, displaying live footage of the course from multiple angles.
After a few minutes, all students gathered near the supervisors' platform.
Present Mic leaned forward over the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers.
"Welcome, everyone! This is Training Ground X, custom-built for today's practical exam! Here's the deal, your task is to complete this three-kilometre obstacle course. It's got everything: terrain shifts, wind tunnels, unstable platforms, vertical climbs, you name it! We'll be recording your finish times, and you'll be running in batches of six, just like you're grouped now."
He gave a wide grin before Aizawa took over, his voice calm and detached.
"To be clear, finishing first doesn't guarantee acceptance. But it'll leave a good impression on your application."
"Alright!" Present Mic added, clapping his hands. "Let's get this show started! Batch Four, you're up first. Everyone else, follow along to the viewing area and try not to destroy the stands this time!"
Izumi and his batch walked toward the starting line and took their assigned positions.
Six students stood ready, each handpicked from the nation's top academies.
Izumi rolled his shoulders once, lightning faintly trailing across his body before fading. Beside him, Todoroki stood calm and unreadable, thin wisps of ice vapor curling off his left side. Inasa grinned wide, his enthusiasm stirring small guests of wind around his feet.
Up in the booth, Aizawa adjusted his scarf while Present Mic leaned closer to the mic stand.
"As mentioned, three kilometres! First across the finish line wins! And please," he grinned, "try not to blow up the course!"
Izumi crouched slightly at the starting line, faint arcs of electricity crackling across his body. The hum of power beneath his skin built steadily — quiet, contained, dangerous.
Above them, the digital board flashed:
READY
Then—
BEGIN
The sound barely left the speakers before the air erupted.
A deafening boom tore through the arena. The starting line cracked, the viewing stands rattled, and even the reinforced observation glass trembled from the shockwave.
For a split second, no one could see him — only a blinding streak of lightning snapping from point to point, tearing through the course so fast that the sensors could barely track it.
When the noise and dust finally cleared, Izumi stood calmly at the finish line. Faint trails of heat curled off the track behind him.
Aizawa's scarf fluttered from the aftershock as he blinked at the monitor. The tracking sensors stuttered before stabilizing.
"He's already done," Aizawa muttered.
Present Mic leaned in, eyes wide. "Wait, you mean—"
"Izumi. He finished."
The display froze.
3.7 SECONDS
For a heartbeat there was nothing but stunned silence.
Then came the murmurs.
"Three point seven five seconds… for three kilometres?"
"That's not speed; that's teleportation!"
Meanwhile, on the course, the others were still running.
Todoroki advanced steadily, freezing the terrain beneath his steps. Inasa surged beside him, wind bursting underfoot as he grinned. Neither realised someone had already crossed the line.
Inasa dove across the finish first, Todoroki sliding in a split second later on a trial of ice.
"Alright! I won!" Inasa cheered, raising a fist. "But next time might be different!"
He turned to Todoroki, smiling. "You're amazing! Aren't you Endeavor's kid? That's so cool!"
Todoroki's reply was sharp and flat. "Shut up. I just need to pass. I wasn't competing with you."
Inasa blinked, taken aback. The tone was cold, too cold.
Todoroki stepped past him. "You're in the way."
Inasa's smile faltered. 'Those eyes… they're not looking at me. They're empty.'
A distant, unwanted memory flickered in his mind. One he immediately tried to push away.
Before he could dwell on it, the speakers buzzed overhead.
"That concludes the practical test for Batch Four," Aizawa's voice announced.
"First place: Izumi Adachi. Time: Three point seven five seconds."
The words hit like a thunderclap.0
Todoroki's head snapped toward the finish line. His face stayed neutral, but disbelief flashed briefly in his eyes.
Inasa blinked once, then broke into a disbelieving laugh. "Three seconds? That's insane! Congrats, man!"
A few moments later, when they regrouped at the finish line, Izumi stood calm — faint static still clinging to the air around him. He gave Inasa a polite nod.
"Thanks. And don't mind Todoroki too much. He's dealing with personal stuff. Nothing to do with you."
Inasa tilted his head, still confused, then smiled and nodded. "Got it."
Meanwhile, in the observation booth—
The field was still settling from the shockwave when Aizawa finally lowered his scarf. The monitors replayed the dash in slow motion—or at least tried to. The camera feed was mostly static, the sensors flickering between frames of lightning streaks and burst of dust.
Present Mic whistled low, leaning forward with his hands on the console.
"Man, that kid's fast! The system barely caught a single frame between the start and the finish! That's gotta be, what—Mach five? Mach six?!"
Aizawa's eyes followed the replay, his expression unreadable.
"Mach seven, based on the field delay. Maybe a bit more."
Present Mic let out a laugh.
"Ha! He broke the sound barrier in a school test! That's wild! You think he even knows how fast that is?"
Aizawa exhaled slowly, scrolling through the sensor data.
"He knows. You don't move like that by accident."
He paused, rewinding the frame where Izumi's lightning arc flared and vanished from the start line.
"He didn't just run. He calculated every step. Perfect acceleration curve, perfect exit point. He used his quirk to amplify his body just enough to withstand the force. No wasted motion."
Present Mic grinned, nudging Aizawa's arm.
"That's the closes thing to a compliment I've heard you give all week."
I said he's efficient," Aizawa muttered. "Don't push it."
Present Mic laughed, shaking his head.
"Still, that kid's something else. First a sonic boom, now a course record. He's gonna make waves, huh?"
Aizawa pulled his scarf backup slightly, hiding the faintest hint of a smirk.
"He already did."
Present Mic leaned back in his chair, still buzzing.
"You know, this batch might be the most ridiculous group we've had in years. Lightning boy just broke physics, Todoroki's freezing everything in sight, and that wind kid—what's his name again? Looks like a typhoon in human form."
Aizawa's eyes flicked across the monitors, cycling through the feeds of the remaining students cooling off after the run.
"Inasa Yoarashi," he said. "Strong presence. Reckless, but he focused up after seeing Izumi's result."
He switched to another feed.
Momo stood beside the track, one hand under her chin, eyes narrowed as she studied the replay.
"Yaoyorozu's analysing the footage," Aizawa noted. "Already breaking down his movement pattern. Smart."
On another screen, Ayaka stood with her arms folded, calmly watching the scorched starting line. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips.
"And her?" Present Mic asked.
"She didn't even flinch," Aizawa replied. "She understood exactly what happened the moment he disappeared. Probably predicted it."
Present Mic grinned.
"Guess genius runs in the family."
Aizawa ignored him, switching one last time to Todoroki and Inasa—both silent, still processing the race's outcome.
The monitors hummed softly as the scene faded, one replay frozen on Izumi standing at the finish line—motionless, calm, while the world behind him blurred from the aftershock.
***
Outside, the staff reset the damaged terrain. Robots patched cracks in the ground, replaced shattered panels, and stabilized the platforms. The fain smell of ozone still hung in the air from Izumi's lightning trail.
Within minutes, the field was ready again. The next announcement echoed through the speakers.
"Batch Five, step forward to the starting line."
The next group assembled. The course still bore scorch marks where lightning had struck, the earth fractured but stable.
Six new examinees took their positions. Among them stood Ayaka Adachi—calm and composed, her silver-grey braid swaying lightly as she adjusted her uniform.
Unlike her brother, there was no visible charge of power around Ayaka.
Just a faint distortion in the air, as if the world itself was bending to make space for her presence.
From the observation deck, Present Mic leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh-ho! Another Adachi! Think she's gonna break her brother's record, huh Eraser?"
Aizawa didn't answer, eyes narrowing slightly.
"We'll see. Her file lists a space manipulation quirk. Let's find out just how refined her control really is."
The signal light flickered, and the speakers rang out:
READY
A soft gum resonated across the track as the system announced:
BEGIN
The world folded.
To the spectators, it looked like Ayaka simply blinked out of existence.
The air rippled, a faint shimmer followed by a sharp, silent displacement. One second, she was at the starting line; the next, she was thirty metres ahead, stepping gracefully onto solid ground as if nothing had happened.
Then it happened again.
And again.
Each movement was instantaneous — precise, clean, elegant.
Where Izumi had been thunder and chaos, Ayaka was silence and control. The world reshaped itself around her without a sound.
Within seconds, her pattern became impossible to follow. Each fold distorted the field; every ripple left brief afterimages as the course's obstacles wrapped and bent momentarily in her wake.
When the final ripple faded, Ayaka was standing at the finish line — posture straight, expression calm, a faint smile touching her lips.
The timer blinked violently before freezing.
11.6 SECONDS
Present Mix nearly dropped his jaw.
"Eleven seconds?! She just—she—how did—teleport?! Eraser, I'm calling it! This family's cheating physics!"
Aizawa leaned slightly forward, scanning the sensor data.
"She's not teleporting. She didn't run the course, she compressed it. Folded the space between checkpoints. Small, controlled warps, one after another."
He studied the readings more closely.
"Her range is limited, about thirty metres per fold. But she's chaining them perfectly. No downtime, no distortion. Every transition seamless. Impressive."
Present Mic burst into laughter.
"So while her brother's frying the air, she's bending it! Man, I hope they never fight each other —the city's not ready for that family reunion!"
The last few seconds of the race played out into total confusion.
The other examinees were still mid-course dodging obstacles, scaling platforms, completely unaware that someone had already crossed the finish line.
Juzo Honenuki, hands pressed against the ground as his quirk softened the terrain, propelled himself toward in long, smooth strides. His control was immaculate; even Aizawa noted how fluidly he manipulated the terrain beneath him.
He cleared the final ramp, expecting to see the finish line ahead — only to freeze when he spotted a familiar figure standing there, perfectly composed.
Ayaka Adachi waited at the end of the track — posture impeccable, hands clasped behind her back. The faint distortion around her had already dissipated. Her expression was calm, almost serene, as if she'd been standing there for minutes.
Juzo blinked, straightening.
"You… already finished?"
Ayaka inclined her head politely.
"Yes. About ten seconds ago."
He stared for a moment, then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You didn't even make a sound. I thought you'd… I don't know, vanished or something."
Ayaka smiled softly.
"Something like that. My quirk allows me to reduce the distance between two points. I suppose it must've looked like teleportation from your perspective."
"Looked like?" he said with a short chuckle. "It was teleportation. I'm pretty sure the sensors barely caught you."
Ayaka's lips curved slightly at that.
"Then I suppose I was faster than I thought."
Juzo tilted his head, still smiling, though admiration flickered in his eyes.
"You're impressive. That kind of precision's rare. If someone can't keep their jumps that stable, they could've caused serious distortion."
Ayaka met his gaze calmly.
"Thank you. Stability is everything. Without control, even speed is pointless."
For a moment, they stood in quiet mutual respect — two students who both understood what it meant to refine power, not just use it.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind them as the remaining students finally arrived — exhausted, confused, staring between the two already waiting at the line.
"Wait—when did you—?" one of them panted.
Ayaka gave a courteous smile and nodded.
"Good work, everyone."
The others exchanged bewildered looks before falling silent as Aizawa's voice came through the field speakers.
"That concludes the second batch. First place: Ayaka Adachi. Time: eleven point six seconds."
There was a brief pause as the students caught their breath.
"Return to the observation deck. Next batch, proceed to the starting line."
Ayaka turned toward Juzo, offering a graceful nod.
"You kept your composure well. I look forward to seeing how far you go, Honenuki."
He smiled faintly, slipping his hands into his pockets.
"Same to you. Just… try giving the rest of us a head start next time, yeah?"
Ayaka's eyes sparkled with quiet amusement.
"No promises."
As they began walking toward the exit, murmurs followed them. A mix of awe and disbelief.
"She folded space."
"That's insane…"
"Those Adachis are on another level."
From the observation deck, Aizawa watched them leave.
"Controlled. Composed. Efficient," he muttered under his breath.
Present Mic leaned toward him with a grin.
"And terrifying. Don't forget terrifying."
Aizawa didn't argue.
He just watched as the two prodigies — lightning and space — walked calmly off the track, as if finishing first was just another formality.