"Right, let's get to it. Put these on and head outside."
Without waiting for a response, Aizawa dropped a pile of gym uniforms onto the nearest desk, his tone leaving no room for questions.
And just like that, we were outside the school building. The blue-and-white U.A. gym uniform fit well enough, crisp fabric and bold stripes making me look like I belonged here.
The experience of putting it on, though… wasn't nearly as pleasant.
--- Flashback ---
The locker room had been noisy at first—footsteps, chatter, the metallic clatter of locker doors. But all of that faded for me the moment I pulled off my shirt.
The voices around me slowed. A couple of gasps, hushed whispers, and then stares. Always the stares.
From collarbone to wrist, down my ribs and across my back—my skin was a map of scars. Old, new, jagged, faded. A lifetime written in lines that never asked for attention but always demanded it.
I kept my eyes forward, face blank, as if I hadn't noticed. It was easier that way. Easier than explaining. Easier than watching their curiosity turn into pity, or worse, fear.
A certain someone muttered something about how "manly" it looked. Another quickly hushed them, probably realizing it wasn't a compliment I wanted.
I dressed quickly, tugging the jacket over my shoulders with practiced ease. Every motion was measured, mechanical. I'd done this enough times to know: if you don't give the stares anything to feed on, eventually they'll look away.
By the time the zipper closed up to my throat, I was Rei again. Not the scars. Just Rei.
--- Back to Present ---
I adjusted my collar, exhaling quietly as the sun beat down on the training field. The uniform looked nice, sure. But what I wore beneath it—that was the part no one here could ignore, even if I wished they would.
My thoughts were interrupted by Aizawa's voice cutting across the training field, flat but sharp enough to slice through the chatter.
"We'll be starting with a Quirk Assessment Test."
That shut everyone up.
"You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives," Aizawa continued, his eyes sweeping across the rows of uniforms, "but you've never been allowed to use your quirks during them. This is different."
The silence grew heavier. It was true. Schools hammered in numbers and formulas, but quirks? Never. Not unless you were under strict supervision. And never like this.
Then Aizawa's gaze flicked to me. Cold, deliberate. "Rei."
I straightened without thinking.
"You scored the highest in the Entrance Exam. 125 points total."
Gasps rippled across the class like someone had thrown a stone into still water. I heard someone whisper "What?! That's insane…" and another mutter, "Wasn't that a record…?"
The loud blonde—spiky-haired, hands jammed in his pockets—snorted like someone had spat in his food. His face twisted, half disbelief and half irritation. Guess he doesn't like being second best, I thought dryly.
Aizawa didn't care about the noise. He just plucked a softball from his capture scarf and tossed it lazily in one hand. "You've thrown a ball before."
"Yes," I answered simply.
"Then throw it with your quirk." He jabbed a finger at the white chalk circle painted onto the ground. "Rules are simple: stay in the circle. Anything else goes."
A few murmurs broke out again. I felt the eyes on me, all of them waiting—curious, suspicious, maybe even excited. My scars had already made me a spectacle, but now Aizawa had dragged my quirk into the spotlight too.
I stepped toward the circle, the ball heavy in my hand.
'Okay… anything goes. That means I can use my quirk however I want.' Rei lowered his gaze to his hands, flexing his fingers once before letting them relax. The faint shimmer of energy stirred at his command, like smoke caught in sunlight.
He stood still for a moment, weighing options in his head, then an idea sparked. Simple. Direct. Effective.
A translucent arm flickered into existence at his side, its claw-like fingers curling as though eager for the task. Rei set the softball into its palm, the ghostly hand clamping down with an ethereal firmness that made the ball look small by comparison.
'I'll throw it like a lasso. Build the momentum… then just let physics do the rest.'
The field grew quiet around him, the class instinctively holding their breath. Every eye followed as Rei lifted the phantom limb high, the ball glinting in the sunlight.
The Ghost Hand began to spin, slow at first, then faster, cutting circles in the air above him. A faint whistle rode the rotations, the kind of sound that made the hairs on the back of the neck stand up.
Conversations stilled. Kirishima leaned forward, eyes practically glowing. Kaminari muttered something under his breath, but even that faded against the rising tension.
Rei's expression stayed flat, unreadable, but his chest tightened just slightly as the air shifted with each swing. The Ghost Hand blurred, the ball orbiting in tighter, sharper arcs.
Wait for it… just a little more speed.
The anticipation thickened with each rotation.
The ghostly arm blurred as Rei kept the spin going, air whistling with each revolution. His eyes sharpened. 'Timing has to be perfect. Release too early, it drops like a rock. Too late, and I'll waste the momentum.'
Kirishima leaned forward, grinning. "This is gonna be manly as hell."
The blonde clicked his tongue, seemingly unimpressed but not looking away either.
Rei exhaled slowly. "Now."
He snapped his wrist, and the Ghost Hand flung the ball with a violent crack through the air. It cut across the sky like a white streak, so fast that several students craned their necks just to keep track of it.
The ball soared, and soared.
A moment of silence passed before a faint boom echoed in the distance, the ball finally touching ground somewhere far, far away.
Aizawa didn't flinch. He simply raised his phone, checked the reading, and turned the screen for everyone to see.
"701 meters."
The noise spiked again, disbelief running through the group like wildfire.
Rei smirked faintly, lowering his hand as the Ghost Hand faded away into nothingness. 'Not bad.'
The silence that followed Rei's throw felt heavy, almost unreal, as though no one had properly processed the number flashing on the device. The figure 701m still glowed like a brand in their eyes.
Only Aizawa cut through the quiet, his tone as flat as ever.
"Good job. Now, who wants to go next?"
For a beat, no one moved. Then, the silence cracked like glass.
"Tch—like hell I'm letting Scarface steal the spotlight!" The fiery blonde stomped forward, every step radiating hostility. His sharp crimson eyes glared at me like I'd just spat in his face.
"It's my turn to show all you extras how to really throw a ball!" Bakugo barked, snatching the softball out of Aizawa's hand without hesitation.
Aizawa didn't flinch, didn't even blink, just gave the smallest nod. "Alright, Bakugo. Go ahead." His tone suggested Bakugo would've gone ahead regardless of permission.
I stepped aside calmly, letting the storm pass me by. His anger practically sparked in the air, like a firework primed to explode. I sauntered back to the group with deliberate ease, ignoring the weight of several classmates' stares that tried to size me up.
'So his name's Bakugo. Got it.' I tucked the name away, unbothered, as if carving it into a mental notebook. His fury wasn't mine to deal with.
Around me, hushed whispers began to ripple through the group—some excited, some nervous, some still reeling from my score. The tension in the air shifted. All eyes turned to Bakugo, who was winding up like a coiled spring about to snap.
"Watch closely, extras. This is how a future Number One hero does it!"
He wound his arm back, but before he could even release, a deafening BOOM rattled the training field. Fire and smoke burst from his palm as he launched the ball with an explosion so violent that the ground beneath his feet cracked. The softball shot off like a rocket, tearing through the air with a fiery contrail.
The class collectively flinched at the shockwave. A few even stumbled back from the sheer blast of heat that washed over them.
"Holy crap!" Kaminari yelped, shielding his face."Whoa, that was manly!" Kirishima cheered, eyes sparkling.
The ball eventually arced and dropped far out into the distance, the measuring device in Aizawa's hand beeping as it displayed the result: 603 meters.
The air grew tense again. Not bad—incredible, in fact—but still short of Rei's calm, lasso-style 701.
Bakugo's smirk froze the second he saw the number. His expression twisted, fury bubbling beneath the surface like lava ready to erupt.
"WHAT?! That's it?!" he shouted, rounding on Aizawa as if the machine itself had betrayed him. "There's no way in hell that freak got farther than me!" His finger jabbed violently in Rei's direction, his voice echoing with raw anger.
The rest of the class looked between the two of us, whispers starting up again. Some glanced at Bakugo with nervous sweat, others at Rei with something that almost resembled awe.
Aizawa, of course, remained completely unbothered. "603 meters. That's your score. Accept it and move on."
After the rest of the class had their turn, Aizawa wasted no time.
"Alright," he said flatly, "let's move on to the rest. You'll all go through the remaining tests in order—grip strength, dash, standing long jump, endurance, and so on."
Grip Strength Test:Kirishima went first, grinning confidently as his skin hardened into stone. The device creaked loudly before displaying a number in the low 200s.
"Pretty good," Aizawa muttered.
When it was my turn, I wrapped a couple ghost hands around the dynamometer alongside my real one. The translucent limb shimmered faintly, mimicking my own grip motion. I clenched every hand at once. the metal groaned under the pressure before the number flickered and stopped at 343 kg.
'Not bad.' I let go before I broke that thing
Shoji managed to get 540 kg using his multiple arms and ended up breaking the it anyway. The test was practically made for him.
50-Meter Dash:Most of the class opted for straight speed quirks. Iida practically became a blur with those engines in his calves, easily setting the top time. When my turn came, I used two Ghost Hands to propel myself forward. Thanks to my training with Aizawa, I had gotten better at using Ghost Hands for mobility.
3.36 seconds. A bit slower than Iida, which didn't surprise me. Still, good control.
Standing Long Jump:
This one was easier. I pushed off the ground using two Ghost Hands, then one more to slow my fall to get more distance. I soared past the sandpit's boundary and landed gracefully on the other side.
Kaminari whistled. "Man, that's like having your own personal springboard!"
Side Steps, Distance Run, Seated Toe-Touch and Sit-Ups:These were all fairly straightforward. I relied on my ghost hands to balance or add rhythm—never too much, just enough to keep everything clean and efficient.
Before long, we were nearing the end of the test. Most of the class looked exhausted, but my breathing stayed steady, his movements deliberate and precise. Aizawa's tired eyes followed me more than once, unreadable as ever.
< - - - - - - - - - - - - - >
When the final test wrapped up, Aizawa finally looked down at his tablet."That concludes your Quirk Assessment. I'll tally your total rankings now."
The class collectively sighed in relief—except Bakugo, who still looked ready to explode again at any moment.
The class gathered around as Aizawa tapped on his tablet. A large digital screen flickered to life beside him, displaying a list of names in bold text.
"Alright," Aizawa said, "these are your total scores from every test. Don't read too much into them—these are just numbers."
That didn't stop anyone from leaning forward.
At the very top of the list was a name Rei had only vaguely recognized from the written exam.
1st — Momo Yaoyorozu2nd — Rei Kageyama3rd — Shoto Todoroki4th — Katsuki Bakugo5th — Tenya Iida6th — Fumikage Tokoyami7th — Mezo Shoji...and the list went on.
Murmurs rippled through the group.
"Second place?!" Kirishima blurted out, clapping Rei on the back. "Dude, that's awesome!"
Bakugo's eye twitched, his jaw tightening. "Second? That guy?" He muttered the last part through gritted teeth, sparks crackling faintly from his palms.
Rei ignored him. He didn't really feel proud, but a quiet satisfaction spread through him anyway. He'd earned it.
Yaoyorozu—the girl from the written exam—looked calm and composed, hands folded behind her back as if she expected the result. Todoroki, standing nearby, didn't react at all, his mismatched eyes fixed on the board.
Aizawa closed the tablet with a quiet snap. "Alright, that's enough gawking. These rankings are for your own awareness. What matters is what you do next. UA doesn't reward talent—it rewards improvement."
The class stayed quiet, hanging on his every word.
"Get used to this kind of thing," he continued, stuffing his tablet back into his capture scarf. "You'll be compared, tested, and pushed harder than ever before. If you can't handle that, you're in the wrong school."
Rei glanced around at the faces of his new classmates—nervous, excited, determined. Then he looked back at Aizawa, whose tired eyes lingered on him for just a second longer before he spoke again.
"Class dismissed. Rest up for tomorrow. It's going to be tougher than today."
Rei exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of those words settle in.
"Second place, huh…" he muttered under his breath. "Guess I'll have to work for first."