The locker room of UA High School smelled of fresh laundry, nervous sweat, and the electric ozone of suppressed Quirks. For Loki Hargreaves, this was the "Backstage"—the place where the actors donned their costumes before the curtain rose.
Loki stood by his locker, methodically folding his school blazer. His movements were slow, a deliberate contrast to the frantic energy of the boys around him.
"Man, UA doesn't waste any time, does it?" Kaminari Denki chirped, pulling on his blue gym tracksuit.
"A test on the first day? I haven't even found the cafeteria yet!"
"It is a logical progression," Iida Tenya countered, his movements as stiff as his speech. "We are here to be forged into professionals. Every second spent in a classroom is a second lost on the field!"
Loki slid his arms into the gym jacket, zipping it up to the mid-chest with a crisp snap. He felt the eyes of the others on him. He was the "rich boy" in the waistcoat who had walked in like he owned the building.
"You're Hargreaves, right?" A boy with red, spiky hair—Kirishima—grinned at him. "That was a flashy entrance you made earlier.
What's your quirk? Something with teleportation?"
Loki adjusted his collar, his expression one of bored elegance. "Teleportation is a blunt instrument, Kirishima. I prefer to think of my movement as... editing. I simply remove the frames where I am walking."
Inside, Loki's heart gave a sharp, frantic thud. Stay in character, he told himself. If they think you're a god, they'll treat you like one. If they think you're a kid who can barely hold a mass-illusion for ten seconds, the stage collapses.
"Editing? Woah, cool!" Kirishima laughed, punching his own palms together. "I'm Hardening! Let's have a manly test, alright?"
Loki gave a shallow, regal nod. "Do your best.
Though, I suspect 'manliness' is a poor substitute for choreography."
He walked out of the locker room before Kirishima could respond, leaving a trail of confused silence behind him.
The class gathered on the wide, dirt-packed training field. Shota Aizawa stood at the center, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere else.
"You've been using standardized tests your whole lives," Aizawa said, his voice flat. "But those tests are irrational. They don't allow you to use your Quirks. Here, you will push yourselves to the limit. Whoever comes in last... will be judged as having 'No Potential' and will be expelled."
The air in the class turned to ice.
Midoriya Izuku looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. Loki, standing near the back, felt a cold sweat prickle the nape of his neck. Expelled? On day one? He looked at Aizawa. The man's eyes were like a hawk's.
Loki knew that his quirk, The Grand Illusionist, was almost entirely mental. Loki was just a boy who had spent ten months in a gym. He would be average. He would be... an extra.
"Bakugo, you finished top of the entrance exam. What was your softball throw in middle school?"
"67 meters," Bakugo growled.
"Try it with your quirk."
Bakugo stepped into the circle. With a roar of "DIE!", he launched the ball with a massive explosion.
The result: 705.2 meters.
The class erupted. "700 meters?! Awesome!"
"This is going to be fun!" Sero laughed.
"Fun?" Aizawa's hair began to float. "You think three years of training to be a hero is going to be 'fun'? Fine. Let's make it interesting."
The tests began. Loki struggled to maintain his mask.
In the 50-Meter Dash, he used a Jester's Snap to blink the sensors and the eyes of his classmates.
He sprinted with everything he had, his lungs screaming as he crossed the line in 5.8 seconds. It wasn't the fastest—Iida and Bakugo blew him away—but it looked like he hadn't even tried.
"A bit slow," Loki remarked to a stunned Mineta, though he was secretly trying to keep his chest from heaving.
In the Grip Strength, he came in near the bottom. His quirk had no way to manipulate a physical gripper without a massive "Weight of the Lie" that he couldn't sustain in front of Aizawa's watchful eyes. He scored a respectable but human 54kg.
"Is that all?" Bakugo sneered as he passed. "I thought you were some kind of big shot, Illusion-boy."
Loki didn't look at him. "Power is for those who lack the imagination to bypass the obstacle, Bakugo."
But as the tests went on—the standing long jump, the repeated side steps—Loki's rank began to slip. He was 15th... then 17th... then 18th.
He was panicking. His "Grand Stage" was crumbling. Every time he looked at Aizawa, he felt the man's gaze piercing his illusions. He had to excel in something, or he was gone.
Finally, it was Loki's turn at the circle.
The class was quiet. They had seen Midoriya's incredible 700+ meter throw, and they had seen his broken finger. Now, the "Arrogant Magician" stepped up.
Loki held the ball. He felt the weight of it. It was real. Too real.
He looked at the horizon. He saw Momo watching him with a look of quiet encouragement. He saw Midoriya, clutching his broken hand, looking at Loki with wide, curious eyes.
I have to lie to the world, Loki thought. I have to convince the very air that this ball is a ghost.
He didn't wind up for a big throw. He held the ball between his thumb and forefinger, like a coin he was about to vanish.
Snap.
The sound was sharp, echoing across the field. Loki didn't throw the ball; he flicked it.
[Card-Sharp's Razor]
He poured every ounce of his mana into the "Lie." He convinced the air molecules to part before the ball. He convinced gravity that the ball was weightless.
The ball took off. It didn't arc; it traveled in a straight, emerald-tinted line. It hissed through the air, faster and faster, defying the laws of physics.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. He raised his hand to his goggles, his hair beginning to lift.
Loki saw it. If he erases it now, the ball drops at 20 meters. I'm dead.
Loki didn't flinch. He turned his head to look directly at Aizawa, maintaining a look of absolute, unwavering confidence. He didn't look at the ball. He acted as if the result was already beneath his notice.
Aizawa paused. He saw the boy's gaze—it wasn't the gaze of a fraud. It was the gaze of someone who truly believed his own fiction. Aizawa let his hair fall. He didn't erase it.
The ball finally lost its "Weight" and dropped.
The device in Aizawa's hand beeped. He held it up.
412 Meters.
It wasn't a world-breaking record, but for a boy who looked like he had just flicked a piece of lint, it was a miracle.
"Whoa!" Kaminari shouted. "He barely even moved!"
Loki walked out of the circle, his legs feeling like jelly. He adjusted his cuffs, his hand trembling slightly where no one could see.
"Air resistance is such a tedious law," he remarked to the air. "I decided to repeal it for a moment."
The Results
Aizawa pressed a button on a remote, and a holographic board appeared in the air.
1.Yaoyorozu Momo
2.Todoroki Shoto
3.Bakugo Katsuki
...
19. Loki Hargreaves
20.Midoriya Izuku
Loki stared at the number. 19. He was one spot away from the bottom.
The arrogance he had projected felt like a lead weight. He had come in with such flair, and yet, physically, he was the second weakest person in the class.
"By the way, I lied about the expulsion," Aizawa said, a creepy grin spreading across his face. "It was a rational deception to draw out your best."
The class screamed in relief.
Loki didn't scream. He stood still, the wind whipping his gym jacket. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That was a very impressive throw, Loki-san."
It was Momo. She was looking at him with a gentle expression. "You were struggling with the physical tests, weren't you? But that throw... you used your mind to overcome the limitation of your body. It was very logical."
Loki looked at her. He could have lied. He could have made a witty remark. But he saw the sincerity in her eyes.
"I am a director, Momo," Loki said, his voice quiet, dropping the "Main Character" volume for a moment. "A director is nothing without a crew. Today, I realized my 'crew'—my own body—is not yet ready for the script I've written."
He turned to Midoriya, who was standing nearby, looking dejected despite not being expelled.
"Midoriya," Loki called out.
The green-haired boy jumped. "Y-yes, Hargreaves-kun?"
Loki walked over to him. He didn't look down at him. He stood beside him, looking out at the UA main building. "Your performance was... messy. Broken bones are a sign of a poor rehearsal. However," Loki paused, "the 'Lie' you told at the end—the one where you convinced yourself you could handle that power—was the only interesting thing I saw today. Don't let the rank discourage you. The first act is always the hardest."
Midoriya stared at him, his eyes tearing up. "T-thank you, Hargreaves-kun! I'll work harder!"
Loki nodded nobly, regaining his nonchalant posture. "See that you do. I hate working with actors who miss their cues."
As the class began to head back to the locker rooms, Loki looked at his hands. He was 19th. He was weak. But as he looked at Aizawa's back, he felt a spark of the "Weight" returning.
He hadn't been expelled. The play was still on.
Loki has survived the first day! He's humbled but still maintaining his noble, nonchalant persona.
[End of Chapter 6]
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