Class 1-A buzzed with excitement.
Students crowded in small groups, showing off quirks, laughing, introducing themselves. Bright personalities clashed like fireworks. This was the beginning of their hero journey, and everyone felt it.
Tenji Kurokawa sat near the window.
He didn't join the chatter. He didn't need to.
He watched instead.
The sky outside was clear. Open. Familiar.
Midoriya trembled with nervous energy. Bakugo loudly declared future dominance. Iida attempted order. Uraraka smiled at everyone. Todoroki stayed silent and distant.
A classroom full of potential.
Then the door slid open.
A man wrapped in a sleeping bag shuffled inside like a corpse that had given up on dignity. Messy black hair. Tired eyes. A blank stare that somehow commanded silence instantly.
He unzipped the sleeping bag and stood.
"I'm your homeroom teacher," he said flatly. "Aizawa Shota."
No welcome.
No speech.
No enthusiasm.
Just exhaustion.
"I have no intention of giving some ceremonious introduction," he continued. "Put on your gym uniforms. We're going outside."
The class blinked.
Then scrambled to obey.
Tenji simply stood and followed.
The training field spread wide beneath the sun. Grass, tracks, equipment, open sky. Aizawa stood before them holding a small device.
"We're doing a quirk apprehension test," he said. "The person with the lowest score will be expelled."
Silence dropped like a stone.
Midoriya's blood ran cold.
Bakugo smirked.
Tenji raised a faint eyebrow.
Expulsion on day one. A psychological filter.
Efficient.
"First event," Aizawa said. "Softball throw."
He looked at Bakugo.
"You. Go first."
Bakugo grinned, taking the ball. Explosions blasted from his palm as he hurled it. The ball shot forward like a missile, tearing through the air and disappearing beyond the measurement field.
The device beeped.
A massive distance registered.
Bakugo raised his arms in victory.
Aizawa turned back to the class.
"Remember," he said calmly, "the lowest overall scorer will be expelled."
A ripple of tension spread now that they'd seen what top performance looked like.
Only now did the pressure truly land.
Tenji understood the intent.
Make them see the ceiling first.
Then make them fear the floor.
Names were called one by one.
Students stepped forward. Quirks flared. Numbers climbed.
When Tenji's name came, the class turned.
They'd seen his spatial quirk before. But not measured like this.
Tenji took the softball.
He didn't wind up. Didn't tense.
He lifted his hand slightly.
Space ahead of him rippled — subtle, almost invisible in sunlight.
He released.
The ball flew.
Not straight.
It curved in a wide impossible arc, looping beyond natural physics before striking the field far in the distance.
The device beeped.
A number flashed.
Second highest — just under Bakugo's.
Whispers rose.
"How did it bend like that?"
"Was that wind?"
"That didn't look like wind…"
Aizawa watched without expression.
But his eyes sharpened.
Tests continued.
Running. Grip. Jumping. Reflex.
Tenji performed consistently near the top — not overwhelming, not showboating, just clean control and efficiency.
Midoriya struggled.
Each test reminded him of his lack of control. Sweat dripped. Fear built.
Finally, results appeared on the screen.
Midoriya Izuku sat at the bottom.
He stiffened.
Aizawa turned toward him.
"You're last," he said.
The class tensed.
Midoriya's hands shook.
"The thing about expulsion was a joke"
The tension broke.
Confused murmurs spread.
Aizawa continued.
"The threat of expulsion is a logical ruse. It brings out your true potential under pressure. U.A. isn't a normal school. If you can't perform under stress, you can't be a hero."
The class exhaled collectively.
Uraraka nearly cried in relief. Iida adjusted his glasses with stiff dignity.
Midoriya collapsed to his knees.
Tenji simply accepted the information.
Aizawa turned away.
"Welcome to U.A. High," he said. "Your real education starts now."