He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes as the faint hum of the city crept in through the window. Distant traffic. A barking dog. The kind of ambient noise that used to feel overwhelming.
Now it was just... normal.
Rei reached for the pile of neatly folded clothes Aizawa had helped him pick out for today. A plain black shirt, some fitted joggers, a gray hoodie. Nothing flashy. Just enough to keep warm.
The mirror across the room caught a glimpse of his face—messy white hair, pale, scar-filled skin, calm expression. Not much had changed on the outside.
But on the inside… that was still a work in progress.
He tugged the hoodie on, let the sleeves fall past his wrists, then padded into the hallway, footsteps soft on the wooden floor. The place was quiet, like always. Aizawa's apartment wasn't big—simple layout, sparse furniture, the smell of coffee usually lingering faintly in the air.
He passed the black cat curled in the corner of the hallway. It opened one eye to stare at him, blinked lazily, then went back to sleep.
Rei kept walking until he reached the kitchen, where Aizawa was already waiting, coffee in hand, eyes half-open like he hadn't slept at all.
"Morning," Aizawa muttered, voice low and gravelly.
"Morning," Rei replied, grabbing a slice of bread and popping it in the toaster.
A moment of silence passed. Comfortable.
"You feeling ready?" Aizawa asked, sipping.
Rei paused, then gave a small nod. "Yeah."
No need to explain more. Aizawa wasn't the kind of person who needed long answers.
"Bag's by the door," Aizawa added.
Rei grabbed the toasted bread, folded it in half, and ate quietly. His heart wasn't racing, but there was a tension in his chest. The kind that sits there, waiting.
Today wasn't a fight. It wasn't survival.
It was a test.
A new beginning.
Maybe.
He finished eating, slipped on his shoes, and grabbed the small black backpack Aizawa had packed with everything he might need.
As he reached the door, Aizawa called out one last thing.
"Remember what I said. You don't have to prove anything to anyone but yourself."
Rei paused, then nodded again. "Got it."
"Also, Rei."
"Yeah?"
"Don't hold anything back."
"Of course."
And with that, he stepped outside—into the rising sun, the waiting city, and whatever came next.
The train swayed gently as it cut through the city, humming over the tracks with a steady rhythm that should've been calming.
Should've been.
Instead, the entire car was buzzing with tension.
Students in every direction were talking—fast, anxious, borderline frantic. Conversations overlapped and clashed, building a wall of noise that pressed in from all sides.
Rei stood near the back of the car, one hand lightly gripping the overhead rail, the other resting by his side. He barely moved. Not because he was unfazed, exactly, but because he didn't see the point in wasting energy worrying about something that hadn't even started yet.
His eyes wandered.
A group of boys nearby were debating exam formats, one of them practically shouting, "No, no, I'm telling you—it's all robots! They toss you into a city and you've gotta destroy 'em! I read it on a forum!"
"Shut up, Sato," another hissed. "You also said Eraserhead was dead."
Rei looked away from them.
Across the aisle, two girls clung to a pole, whispering in a panic.
"I heard there's a written part too," the taller one said, sweating visibly as she gripped the pole with white knuckles.
"What?! I didn't study!" the other gasped, eyes wide with horror.
Rei blinked slowly.
'Is it really that bad?' he thought, watching the taller girl mop her forehead with her sleeve. 'Do they think panicking will help them pass?'
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The atmosphere spoke for itself.
Tension. Fear. Excitement. Pressure.
All of it clung to the walls like fog, heavy and electric.
But Rei stood still, a quiet figure in the middle of a storm of nerves. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the motion of the train and the noise of the car pass through him.
He wasn't here to match their energy.
He was here to pass.
Maybe show off a little.
Simple as that.
The lecture hall was massive—walls high, lights bright, desks lined up in neat, sharp rows that stretched all the way to the back. Every chair was filled with a hopeful student. Some tapped pens nervously. Others whispered last-minute facts under their breath.
Rei found his assigned seat without a word. He sat, adjusted the chair, and looked around.
A yellow-haired boy to his right was muttering multiplication tables like they were magic spells. A girl with pink hair and horns on his left was gripping her pencil so tightly it might snap. One student in front of him was already sweating, and the test hadn't even started yet.
'So this is how it is,' Rei thought.
He glanced down at the blank paper on his desk. The questions were still hidden beneath the cover sheet.
This wasn't going to be a problem. He'd studied well. Aizawa had made sure of that—quizzing him during breaks, reviewing material after training sessions, sometimes even tossing him practice sheets during dinner. Rei had put in the work.
Because, as he'd reasoned early on:
Obviously you have to write to pass an exam.
Rei let out a slow breath through his nose and gave his head the lightest shake, as if physically brushing off any lingering worries. Useless thoughts wouldn't help him here. Doubt wouldn't serve him now.
Head empty. Mind clear. Just focus.
He glanced up as the proctor gave the signal.
The exam began.
As the minutes dwindled down, Rei moved through the final stretch of the written exam with the same calm precision he'd used from the beginning. His pen glided across the paper in smooth, measured strokes, answering each question with practiced ease. The material felt familiar, almost routine—like muscle memory.
Each page he flipped through brought less resistance. The questions didn't get harder. In fact, the more he read, the more it felt like he had already seen them before, just in different words.
And then—he turned another page.
Blank.
Not the kind of blank that called for a new question.
The kind of blank that meant the test was over.
Rei blinked.
Then again, slower this time. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, like he expected something to appear that hadn't.
That's it? he thought, not out of disappointment, but out of mild disbelief.
He carefully flipped back through the test booklet, scanning page after page. Not to correct mistakes—he didn't feel like he had made any—but just to confirm that this was, in fact, the end.
He hadn't rushed. He wasn't worn out. If anything, he felt… steady. Centered.
Feels like I over-prepared for this…
Rei sat back just slightly in his chair and took a breath through his nose. The air in the lecture hall was dense—not physically, but mentally. The collective pressure of dozens, maybe hundreds of students all trying to squeeze every last answer from their brains created an atmosphere that was hard to ignore.
He glanced around.
Most students were hunched forward like statues in mid-collapse, shoulders tight with tension, pens moving in sharp, anxious motions. Some tapped their feet, some mouthed silent words to themselves, others stared blankly at their papers, as if hoping the answers would materialize through willpower alone.
The room was a storm of nerves, all contained within the quiet rustling of paper and the occasional cough or pencil tap.
Rei's eyes drifted, scanning the rows around him. His expression stayed neutral, but his gaze was deliberate.
Then he saw one.
On the opposite side of the hall sat a girl—taller than most, with long, black hair neatly tied back in a controlled, functional style. She wasn't writing. Her test was closed and stacked neatly on her desk, her hands folded in front of her, posture straight as a ruler.
There was no fidgeting. No darting glances. No telltale signs of lingering doubt or unspent energy. She wasn't looking around the room like Rei was—she was simply waiting.
Composed. Settled.
Guess I'm not the only one who's done early… Rei noted quietly.
He didn't linger on the thought. It was just another observation. Someone else prepared. Someone else finished ahead of time. Someone else calm in the chaos.
Rei returned his gaze to his own desk and rested a flat palm against the final page of the booklet.
The written portion was complete.
But he knew better than to let his guard down.
This was only the beginning.
The real test—the part that truly mattered—was still ahead.