Nejire wasn't like Mirio, Tamaki, or even Mewtwo.
She didn't charge in with overwhelming aggression or brute force. She fought with rhythm — a kind of playful, almost dance-like grace that made everything she did look effortless.
After kicking both upper-year students clean out of the building, she didn't follow. She just floated in the air outside, her hair swaying in the breeze, a mischievous smile curving her lips as she watched them fall.
She wanted to see what they'd do next.
The two fourth-years reacted quickly. The one with the hair Quirk snapped into action, transforming his hair into a massive sphere that cushioned the fall. It rolled and bounced on impact, absorbing the force before unfolding like a cocoon. Inside, both students tumbled out, bruised but alive.
The hair user had even wrapped his classmate inside the protective sphere mid-fall — impressive teamwork.
Nejire's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Oooh, clever~!" she said softly to herself, her tone filled with genuine delight rather than mockery.
But when the sphere dissolved, both upper-years were visibly hurt. Their uniforms were torn, and thin lines of blood traced where her earlier kicks had landed. Even with their reinforced bodies, a single energy-charged strike from Nejire Hado was no small thing.
Hovering above them, she raised one finger like a teacher scolding a child.
"Bad guys shouldn't hurt people," she said in her usual cheerful tone. "You're under arrest!"
It was so disarmingly cute that, for a brief instant, both fourth-years actually froze — faces red, hearts skipping.
Then reality hit, and they both smacked their own cheeks to shake it off.
"Don't get distracted, idiot!" one hissed.
"R-right!"
The student with the bone tentacles reacted first. Dozens of sharp bone spikes erupted from the ends of his tentacles and launched toward Nejire like bullets. At the same time, the hair-user's Quirk surged again, his strands extending and reshaping into spears, blades, and chains that whipped upward toward her.
Nejire sighed, puffing her cheeks. "So the bad guys don't wanna play nice, huh?"
Then her tone changed — still playful, but laced with power.
"Nejire Charge, thirty percent!"
The air around her exploded with energy.
"Nejire Waaaave!"
A swirling spiral of blue and gold erupted from her hands, a storm of vibrating energy that warped the air itself. The shockwave met both attacks head-on, bending the bone spikes and strands of hair away before sending them ricocheting harmlessly into nearby walls.
When the dust cleared, Nejire was gone.
She'd already launched forward, propelled by her energy coils, leaving behind a golden afterimage.
"Over here~!" her voice chimed from above.
Before the student with the bone tentacles could react, she was already descending, spinning at blinding speed. Energy spirals wrapped around her like a comet's tail, turning her into a radiant tornado.
"Nejire Tornado!"
The fourth-year barely managed to cross his tentacles in front of him as a shield — but it made no difference. The impact was immediate, the force overwhelming. Nejire's spiral drill tore through his defense like paper, her kinetic wave slamming him across the street. He hit a building so hard the wall cracked open, a crater forming around his limp body before he slumped, unconscious.
One down.
Nejire twirled mid-air and faced the remaining opponent, her smile bright as ever.
"Okay! Your turn!"
The hair-user gritted his teeth and threw everything he had into defense. His hair surged outward, weaving into a massive dome around him, a thick barrier of tangled strands turned to steel.
Nejire didn't stop.
She accelerated, the spirals of energy around her body growing tighter, denser, more focused.
"Nejire Charge, forty percent!"
The glow around her intensified until she looked like a living sunbeam. She struck the barrier, and the world shook.
The hair-dome vibrated violently, the sound of shredding fibers filling the air before it finally burst apart. Strands of hardened hair scattered like confetti, and Nejire shot straight through the gap — hitting the upper-year dead-center in the stomach.
The explosion of force sent him flying backward, his body carving into the side of another building. Concrete split. Dust billowed.
And just like that, the fight was over.
Nejire hovered in place, brushing her hair back, a faint blush of exertion on her cheeks.
"Whew~ that was fun!" she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together as if she'd just finished a workout.
Two fourth-year students, both unconscious.
Four minutes.
That's all it had taken.
Perfecto, eso es justo el equilibrio que buscas: tono cinematográfico, sin adornos excesivos, pero con cuerpo narrativo completo, sin recortar ideas ni acortar el texto original.
On the opposite side of the building where Nejire was fighting, Mewtwo descended slowly from the upper floor to the street.
The air was still thick with dust and the faint hum of energy. The floor below was broken and uneven, marked by the impact of the other student's fall.
The lizard stood up fast, shaking off the rubble, electricity sparking violently around his arms and tail. He was hurt, but not beaten. His eyes burned with anger as he glared at Mewtwo, who hovered a few inches above the ground, perfectly still, silent, calm — watching him with that same blank, unreadable expression.
"Tsk… stronger than we thought," the lizard muttered, his voice rough from exhaustion. "If I lose here, it'll be humiliating."
His frustration grew every second that Mewtwo stayed quiet. The psychic didn't even bother to answer, just kept that same cold look — like the fight wasn't even worth his effort. It wasn't arrogance; it was worse. It was indifference.
That made his blood boil.
Four years.
They had trained for four long years, pushing past their limits, learning from pros, breaking their bodies and minds for a chance to stand at the top. Every student in the upper classes had done the same. None of them were weak.
And yet, now, they were being cornered by second-year students. It was absurd.
Was the gap between them really that wide?
Were these kids that much stronger?
No. He refused to believe it.
The ground trembled under his feet as he released another surge of power. Lightning cracked around his body, sharp and wild, leaving deep scorch marks on the asphalt. His tail lashed, and his yellow eyes glowed brighter than before. Finally, he saw something — a flicker in Mewtwo's eyes. His expression sharpened, just slightly.
The lizard's teeth gritted. "Oh, so now you take me seriously?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined street. "You damn alien freak—!"
Without another word, he lunged forward, electricity exploding from his body like thunder. His claws shone with bright yellow light, slicing the air as he rushed in.
Mewtwo didn't move an inch. His aura shifted, glowing with faint blue sparks. Then, calmly, he raised his hand.
"Electro Ball."
The sphere of pure electricity formed instantly and shot forward, meeting the lizard's claws head-on. The collision made the air crackle and flash — a shockwave of light burst outward, shaking the nearby buildings. Sparks scattered like rain.
"Dragoon Overcharge!" the lizard yelled, pushing through the explosion, his lightning growing brighter as he overpowered Mewtwo's first attack.
But Mewtwo didn't flinch. His tone remained flat, even curious.
"Mmm… I still feel more comfortable with the other version."
Before the lizard could react, Mewtwo's right hand filled with energy — this time darker, heavier. A black sphere spun into existence, pulsing with violet light.
"Shadow Ball."
The attack hit dead center, slamming into the lizard's chest. The explosion echoed like a cannon blast, throwing him across the street and crashing him into the pavement. Rubble scattered in all directions.
Still, the lizard forced himself up, coughing, sparks flashing across his wounds. "Not… done… yet!"
He bolted forward again, moving at full speed. The air around him screamed from the sudden acceleration as he dodged Mewtwo's next wave of psychic blasts, zigzagging between them until he was right in front of him. His claws tore through the air — and finally, they met resistance.
A translucent barrier.
The psychic shield cracked like glass, fragments of blue light breaking around his hands. For a second, hope flickered in his eyes. He had reached him. He could win.
Then, a voice echoed inside his mind — calm, detached, absolute.
Good fight.
Before he could even breathe, Mewtwo's hand rose again, another Shadow Ball already formed, its light swallowing his vision.
The impact hit point-blank. The shockwave shattered nearby windows and cracked the ground beneath them.
When the dust settled, Mewtwo floated above the crater — silent, untouched. The lizard lay below, unconscious, his body sparking weakly as the electricity faded away.
Mewtwo looked down for a second, his expression finally softening.
"You're strong," he said quietly, his tone calm but genuine. "Let's make sure you're okay."
Mewtwo extended one hand, and a soft blue light enveloped the fallen student. Life Dew. The shimmering energy spread gently over the lizard's body, healing bruises and burns, closing small cuts, and easing the strain from the intense fight. When the glow faded, the student was breathing steadily again, no longer in danger.
With a faint flicker in his eyes, Mewtwo summoned the handcuffs they had been given for the game. The metallic restraints floated in the air for a moment before snapping gently around the student's wrists. As soon as they locked, the watches on everyone's wrists beeped simultaneously.
Both teams received a message — though very different ones.
For the upper-year students, the text was short and merciless:
"Game over. Sorry, you lost. No points assigned. Keep trying in the next missions. Good luck — Plus Ultra!"
Simple. Final.
But for the four from Class 2-A, the message was entirely different.
"Congratulations! You have won your first A-Rank game. +35 points added to your total. Keep it up! Would you like to see your current score?
Yes / No."
Mewtwo tapped Yes.
Another screen appeared, showing a clear readout:
HERO IN TRAINING: MEWTWO
TOTAL SCORE: 77 POINTS
RANK: 1
No other names. No leaderboard. Every player could only see their own ranking, which meant you never really knew how far ahead or behind you were — unless someone told you. It made comparing impossible, and the uncertainty kept everyone guessing.
But right now, it didn't matter. He was in first place, and he knew his friends couldn't be far behind. That was enough.
With a small smile, Mewtwo took to the air again, gliding toward the other side of the simulated city where Nejire was still spinning in circles, her energy bursting with joy. When she spotted him, she darted forward at full speed, and just in case, he raised Reflect instinctively to soften her inevitable crash of enthusiasm.
Instead, they met mid-air, laughing, and shared a sharp, echoing high-five that rang across the dome.
Together, they flew toward the city's main gate — the rendezvous point.
A few moments later, two figures appeared from the opposite direction.
Mirio was waving both arms wildly, yelling, "Guuuuuts! We wooooon!" while Tamaki followed behind, his usual nervous expression replaced by the faintest, hard-won smile.
The four regrouped in the center of the training field. For a few seconds, they just stood there, catching their breath, feeling that rush of shared victory — the kind that made the exhaustion worth it.
Afterward, they left the simulated city and headed straight to the small coffee shop inside the U.A. campus — their favorite spot to relax after missions. They ordered drinks, laughed, replayed moments of the fight, and started talking strategy.
Now they had more than just experience — they had insight.
They finally understood something about the A-Rank missions: their structure, their triggers, and their logic. And they were ready to use that knowledge to their advantage.
As they talked, Mewtwo's glow faded, his form returning to Raiden. The horns remained — a permanent mark of what he was — but his expression softened. For the first time in hours, he looked almost at peace.
However, that peace wasn't shared everywhere.
Inside the teachers' room, the atmosphere was tense.
Several teachers stood around a large screen, showing the replay feeds of the battle simulation. Voices overlapped in disbelief and concern.
They had underestimated the second-year students.
And for the first time, the faculty realized that this generation… might be something entirely different.