"The voice that pierces deep into my chest is like a never-ending cheer."
_____
[U.A HIGH]
After (Y/N) slipped quietly into his seat, leaving Midoriya lingering near the doorway, the tension from Iida and Bakugo's argument finally fizzled out. Both boys turned, and froze when they noticed Midoriya standing there.
"You're..." Iida began, adjusting his glasses. Bakugo scowled sharply.
One by one, the rest of the class followed their gaze. Dozens of eyes suddenly locked onto Midoriya. Midoriya stiffened immediately, shoulders rising as he looked up nervously, every inch of him radiating timid panic.
"O-Oh! Uhm—"
"Good morning!" Iida blurted, marching toward him with rigid, mechanical steps. "I am from Soumei Private Academy. My name is—"
"I—I heard!" Midoriya interrupted with a frantic wave of his hands, cheeks flushing.
Iida froze mid-step, as if someone had hit his off switch.
"I'm Midoriya," he added, offering a small, awkward smile. "N-Nice to meet you, Iida-kun."
"Midoriya-kun," Iida said, adjusting his glasses with sharp precision, "you realized there was more to the practical exam, didn't you?"
Midoriya blinked, genuinely confused. "H-Huh?"
"I had completely misjudged you!" Iida declared, chopping the air with both hands in dramatic sincerity. "To recognize the deeper evaluation criteria... I must admit it, you surpassed me."
Midoriya sweatdropped, offering a stiff smile as his thoughts scrambled.
'S-Sorry... I didn't realize anything at all...'
Suddenly, a cheerful voice piped up behind Midoriya.
"Oh! That curly hair, I knew it was you! The plain-looking one!" Midoriya stiffened, blinking in confusion before slowly turning around. His face flushed the second he recognized her, the girl who saved him at the exam gate, and the one he had saved during the entrance exam.
"You passed, just like Present Mic said!" she beamed, hands clasped in excitement.
'I-It's the nice girl... S-She looks really good in her uniform...''Midoriya thought, his brain short-circuiting.
"And of course you passed! That punch you did was amazing!" She mimicked his over-the-top smash, full of enthusiasm.
Midoriya shrank back slightly, blushing even harder, completely overwhelmed by her energy. Unnoticed by the two of them, someone watched from across the room, feet propped boldly on the desk, a sharp scowl twisting his expression. Bakugo.
His crimson eyes narrowed as memories of their junior high days surfaced, simmering just beneath the surface. 'How dare he defy me?' Bakugo grit his teeth, eyes narrowing.
'Something's definitely off.' With a sharp scoff, he tore his glare away.
From his seat, (Y/N) caught the entire exchange. The hostile stare Bakugo shot at Midoriya didn't go unnoticed, though the moment Bakugo looked away, (Y/N) simply arched a brow.
'So those two have history...' he mused before returning to his own thoughts.
Meanwhile, Midoriya had no idea. He was still flustered from Uraraka's enthusiasm, cheeks pink and eyes darting around nervously.
Uraraka, oblivious to his panic, continued happily, "So, um! I wonder if today's the entrance ceremony and orientation? I'm kinda excited, but also really nervous! And oh! What's our teacher like, do you think?"
She leaned a little closer, eyes bright.
"Oh! And... that guy who saved you from falling during the entrance exam, what class is h—?"
And then suddenly...
"Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends."
The voice came from directly behind Uraraka, flat, bored, and dripping with disinterest. She froze mid-sentence. Iida jerked upright, almost robotic in his sudden readiness, while Midoriya's head snapped toward the source.
Slowly, his eyes drifted downward.
There, sprawled on the classroom floor, was a man curled in a yellow sleeping bag. A full-grown adult, hair messy and eyes half-lidded, he looked utterly unimpressed, as if regretting the very act of opening them this morning... or perhaps regretting life in general.
Uraraka's face reflected the same shock. Iida stood rigid, frozen halfway into a salute. Only the man in the sleeping bag remained completely calm, blinking slowly and giving nothing away.
"This is the hero course," he said at last, his tone flat and unamused. With a languid motion, he began to unzip the sleeping bag, pulling out a small pouch of drink and taking a slow sip.
'S-Something's here?!' The three of them thought at the same time, still shocked to see whoever this man was.
The classroom fell silent, the students exchanging wide-eyed glances. Whoever this man was, it was clear he was not like any teacher they had expected.
The man in the yellow sleeping bag slowly rose, sliding out of it with effortless, almost lazy movements, and set it neatly aside.
"Eight seconds," he said flatly, his gaze scanning the room. "It took you eight seconds to settle down. Time is limited, and you kids are... not rational enough."
The classroom remained silent, every student feeling the weight of his words. There was no exaggeration, no drama, just the blunt, unflinching authority that made it clear he expected obedience without question. Even Midoriya's heart skipped a beat at the sheer calm intensity radiating from him.
(Y/N) studied the man with a critical eye, noting his disheveled appearance. 'He looks like he's homeless', he thought, silently judging the so-called teacher. Around him, the other students whispered among themselves, still trying to process whether this man could truly be their homeroom teacher.
"I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you," the man said, his voice flat, eyes half-lidded, betraying little to no interest.
'Homeroom teacher?!' Midoriya thought in disbelief, his heart racing.
Without waiting for any questions, Aizawa reached back into his sleeping bag and pulled out U.A.'s P.E. uniform. "It's sudden, but put this on. Then head out to the field," he instructed, his tone curt, leaving no room for argument.
______
(Y/N)'s P.O.V
The gym uniform was a bit snug, too snug, honestly, but it wasn't worth complaining about. I pulled it on anyway, adjusting the fabric until it sat well enough. With a quiet exhale, I stepped out of the male locker room and headed for the training field, ready to see what this so-called homeroom teacher had planned.
By the time I got to the field, everyone else was already lined up, listening to Aizawa explain something in his usual tired monotone. His eyes flicked toward me the moment I stepped into view, his expression tightening just slightly into a familiar scowl.
"Kayama," he said, voice flat, "you're late. Were you doing something unnecessary in the locker room?"
I stopped beside the others, meeting his tired stare without flinching. "No, sir. The uniform was just... tight. It won't happen again."
Aizawa blinked once, unimpressed, before turning back to the class.
"Anyway," Aizawa continued, already sounding bored, "as I was saying. You've all done this since junior high, right?"
He pulled out his phone, the screen filled with neatly arranged stats.
"Physical fitness tests where Quirks aren't allowed," he explained, slipping the device back into his pocket. "The country still uses averages based on data."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "It's irrational. But the Ministry of Education loves procrastinating."
Then his gaze shifted to me. "Kayama. You ranked first in the entrance exam, didn't you?"
Every head turned. Even the loud, sharp-eyed blond, that Pomeranian-looking guy, glanced my way with open curiosity.
I gave a brief nod.
"In junior high," Aizawa went on, "what was your best record for the softball throw?"
"I didn't attend junior high," I replied calmly. "But if I had to estimate... seventy meters."
The murmurs grew louder, interest sharpening across their faces. I ignored them.
Without another word, Aizawa tossed me a softball.
"Then do it again," he said. "This time, use your Quirk."
I stepped into the throwing circle, staring into the distance.
"You can do whatever you want as long as you stay in the circle. Hurry up. Give it all you got." He ordered.
"Give it all I got, huh?" I muttered softly. Then, I nodded, closing my eyes, before opening them once again, my grey ones turning into a light blue one, drawing a measured amount of EST into my arm. Darkness coiled around my hand, responding instantly as I shaped 'Hell' with deliberate precision.
'A spear would cut through the air far more cleanly than a ball.' I thought to myself.
The softball stretched in my grasp, shadows crawling over its surface like living ink. The darkness sharpened, lengthened, solidifying into a sleek spear, its edges faintly humming with compressed energy. Gasps rippled through the line of students behind me, followed by uneasy silence.
"Such control..." Aizawa muttered, eyes narrowing. "That kind of precision isn't normal. I've never heard of a Quirk like this." He paused, then added dryly, "What kind of freak did Midnight adopt?"
Planting my feet, I took a proper throwing stance, reinforcing my right hand with EST. The energy surged through my muscles, tightening them beyond their natural limits. The air around my arm distorted slightly under the pressure.
I exhaled once. Then I threw.
The spear of darkness tore from my hand with a sharp crack, splitting the air as it shot forward. The ground beneath my feet fractured, thin spiderwebs racing outward as a violent gust of wind blasted past me. Several students yelped, raising their arms to shield their faces as dust and debris whipped through the field.
The projectile vanished into the distance in the blink of an eye.
I relaxed my arm, letting the EST disperse. Far away, the spear struck the earth with a deep, echoing impact. The darkness unraveled instantly, dissolving into faint black motes that scattered and faded, leaving the softball to drop harmlessly onto the ground and roll to a stop.
Silence followed. My eyes returned back to my normal grey ones as I made my back to the others, standing beside them.
It seemed that I had made an enemy on my first day of school. I glanced at the pomeranian guy, who seemed to be glaring at me. Although, I ignored him.
"Know your own limits first," Aizawa said, voice flat and unyielding. "That's the most rational way to build a foundation as a hero."
He lifted his phone, angling the screen so everyone could see. 835 meters, for half a second, there was silence. Then the field erupted.
"Eight hundred and thirty-five meters?!" shouted the boy with yellow-and-black streaked hair, jaw dropping. "That's not even human!"
Another student laughed, excitement bubbling over. "This is awesome! We can use our Quirks as much as we want!"
"Yeah!" someone else added. "As expected from the hero course!"
Fun? I barely stopped myself from scoffing. The word felt hollow. The real world didn't care how fun things felt. It was cruel, unforgiving, and quick to punish hesitation. If they thought this was a game, they were already behind.
Aizawa's tired eyes swept over the group, taking in the smiles, the awe, the poorly hidden arrogance. His mouth twitched, not in amusement, but in disappointment.
"'Looks fun,' huh?" he said quietly. The tone alone was enough to make several students stiffen.
"You have three years here to become heroes," he continued, his gaze sharp now. "You think you'll survive with that mindset the whole time?"
The murmurs died. Smiles faded. A knot of unease settled over the field.
Aizawa straightened slightly. "Good. Then listen carefully." He let the silence stretch, letting the weight sink in before delivering the blow.
"Out of all eight physical tests," he said, "whoever ranks dead last overall will be judged to have no potential."
A pause.
"...and will be expelled." The words hit like a sledgehammer.
"HUH?!"
Midoriya went pale. Someone staggered back a step. Even the louder students froze, shock etched across their faces. I noticed that Midoriya was shivering to his core, glancing down at his hand.
I already knew he shouldn't have passed, not with a Quirk that uncontrollable. Anyone watching the entrance exam could see that much. Midoriya was dangerous in the way true heroes were, reckless, self-destructive, but unyielding.
If that villain hadn't— No. I shut the thought down immediately.
I didn't come to U.A. to sulk. I came here to get stronger. Strong enough to hunt down the bastard who carved this scar into my face... and took my parents from me.
My fist clenched at my side. Aizawa's voice cut through the tension, sharp and unapologetic.
"We're free to do whatever we want with our students, based on the circumstances."
He slicked his hair back, a crooked, almost unhinged smile tugging at his lips.
"Welcome to U.A.'s Hero Course."
I stared ahead.
Expelling students on the very first day.
Yeah... I never imagined U.A. would be this insane, but maybe that was exactly why it was the real deal. Let's see what you got for me, U.A.
____
Back to Third Person's P.O.V
Uraraka stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. "L-Last place gets expelled?! But it's the first day of school! No, even if it wasn't, that's way too unfair!"
Aizawa didn't even blink. "Natural disasters. Large-scale accidents. Selfish villains," he replied flatly.
At the word villains, (Y/N)'s gaze darkened for a split second. The memory surfaced unbidden, blood and faces he'd never forget. His jaw tightened, but he forced the emotion down, expression smoothing as he focused back on Aizawa's words.
"Calamities don't wait for you to be ready," Aizawa continued. "They don't care about fairness. Japan is built on unfairness. Heroes are the ones who flip that reality on its head."
He glanced across the field, eyes sharp. "If you thought this was a place to chat with friends at Mickey D's after school, too bad."
The students stiffened.
"For the next three years," Aizawa said, "U.A. will pile hardship on top of hardship. Pain. Pressure. Failure."
Then, almost mockingly, he finished: "Go beyond. Plus Ultra. Overcome it with everything you've got."
The phrase hung in the air. (Y/N) remained silent, turning the words over in his mind. Plus Ultra. A slogan meant to inspire, but also a challenge. A demand.
Around him, several students gasped. Some swallowed nervously. Iida reached into his pocket, pulling out a water bottle and taking a steadying sip.
This isn't hazing, Iida thought grimly. 'This is selection. The best of the best don't get excuses.'
Nearby, Bakugo cracked his knuckles, eyes burning as he glared at (Y/N).
'This isn't all I've got, Bakugo snarled internally. And I'm not losing to that bastard.'
"All right," Aizawa said, clapping his hands once. "Demonstration's over. The real thing starts now."
The 50-meter dash came first. One by one, students sprinted down the track, earning average to impressive results. When it was (Y/N)'s turn, he lined up beside Ojiro. At the signal, a faint surge of dark-purplish energy of EST flowed into his legs, controlled and precise.
He exploded forward. The ground barely seemed to touch him as he crossed the finish line in 4.05 seconds.
"Whoa... he's fast," Toru whispered.
Bakugo clicked his tongue in irritation, teeth grinding.
Next came grip strength. (Y/N) waited calmly until the device was free, then wrapped his fingers around the handle. EST reinforced his hand, veins darkening slightly as he squeezed.
The display flickered. 450 kg. Aizawa gave a small nod and recorded the number before moving on to Kaminari. Behind him, a sudden shout broke out.
Shoji was gripping the device, with three hands.
"Five hundred and forty kilograms?!" Sero gawked. "What are you, a gorilla? No—an octopus?!"
"Octopuses are sexy," Mineta muttered.
(Y/N) glanced back briefly. '540... I still have room to grow.'
The standing long jump came next. Bakugo blasted across the sandpit first. When it was (Y/N)'s turn, he followed, legs reinforced, motion smooth and effortless as he cleared the pit without strain.
Repeated side-steps followed. Again, (Y/N) performed cleanly. Across every test, his results stayed consistently high. Aizawa watched him closely, eyes sharp beneath his tired expression.
Finally, they reached the softball throw again. Since (Y/N) had already gone earlier, Aizawa gestured forward.
"Bakugo. You're up." Bakugo stepped into the circle, cracking his neck, eyes blazing as he glanced once toward (Y/N).
(Y/N) crossed his arms over his chest, eyes fixed on Bakugo as the blond stepped into the throwing circle. 'It's obvious he wants to beat my record, (Y/N) thought calmly. Let's see how far that ego can really carry you.'
Bakugo rolled his shoulder once, gripping the softball like a pitcher about to strike out the final batter. 'I'll add a blast to the pitch, he thought, lips curling into a feral grin.'
He wound up.
"Die!"
The word tore from his throat as he hurled the ball forward, Explosion detonating against it mid-throw. The BOOM echoed across the training field.
'...Die?' Both (Y/N) and Midoriya had the exact same thought, blinking in disbelief.
A moment later, the display beeped. "705.2 meters." Aizawa glanced at the screen. "Not bad."
Bakugo clicked his tongue sharply, irritation flashing across his face as he turned away. He stomped back toward the others, fists clenched.
It was strong, but not enough. 'Still short', (Y/N) noted, eyes narrowing slightly. 'Not bad... but not better than mine.'
Next up was Uraraka. She stepped forward nervously, holding the ball with both hands. After a deep breath, she activated her Quirk, her fingertips glowing faintly as gravity loosened its grip.
With a simple upward throw, the ball drifted skyward. And kept going. Seconds passed. Then minutes.
The class collectively craned their necks until the ball was nothing more than a speck—then gone entirely. Aizawa checked the screen.
"...Infinity."
"Infinity?!" several students shouted in unison.
"That's insane!" Kaminari yelled, eyes bulging. "She literally got Infinity!"
Uraraka stared at the screen, stunned. "E-Eh?!"
Midoriya's blood ran cold.
'This is bad', he thought, hands trembling slightly. 'That's not something I can do right away...'
His eyes dropped to the softball waiting for him.
'Everyone's leaving at least one incredible result... especially (Y/N). All I have left is this... the long-distance run, sit-ups, and the seated toe-touch.'
His grip tightened. 'It's now or never. At this rate... I'll be dead last.'
(Y/N) noticed immediately.
Midoriya's hunched posture. The way his eyes darted between the field and the ball. The tension coiled tight in his shoulders.
'He's thinking about it', (Y/N) realized. About controlling his Quirk without injuring himself in the process.'
Suddenly, Tenya spoke up, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "It doesn't look good for Midoriya if he continues like this."
(Y/N) and Uraraka both turned to him.
'He's right,' (Y/N) thought. His gaze shifted briefly toward Aizawa, then back to Midoriya.
'I'm starting to wonder if this whole thing is meant to push us to our limits... to see who cracks.'
'Test or not,' his eyes hardened, 'you have to be ready to go all out.'
"Huh?" Bakugo scoffed loudly. "Of course it doesn't. He's a Quirkless small fry."
He jabbed a finger toward Midoriya. Tenya gasped, spinning around to face him. "Quirkless?! Are you unaware of what he accomplished during the entrance exam?!"
Bakugo froze. "...Huh?"
From behind them, Aizawa watched the exchange in silence. 'It's about time,' he thought.
Midoriya's thoughts drifted to his mother's tearful smile... and to the words All Might had spoken to him that day.
'You can become a hero.'
He closed his eyes. His right arm trembled as he prepared to pour One For All into the throw, bracing himself for the pain.
(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly. 'He's going to do it,' he realized. 'The same thing he did during the practical exam.'
'I'll definitely become a hero!' Midoriya's resolve burned bright as the world seemed to slow around him. Muscles tensed. Power surged. And then... Nothing.
The ball slipped from his hand, flying only a short distance before dropping uselessly to the ground. Midoriya's eyes snapped open.
"What...?"
A sharp chill ran down his spine as he met Aizawa's gaze. The teacher's eyes glowed an ominous red.
"I erased your Quirk," Aizawa said flatly. "That entrance exam was not rational. Even someone like you managed to pass."
"You—erased my Quirk?!" Midoriya gasped, stumbling back a step. His eyes flicked to the goggles, realization striking hard. "I see...! You erase Quirks just by looking at people!"
"The Erasure Hero: Eraser Head!" he blurted out.
"Eraser?" Kaminari tilted his head. "Never heard of him."
"He's an underground hero," (Y/N) spoke up suddenly.
The class froze. It was the first time he'd spoken the entire test.
Several students turned toward him in surprise, but (Y/N)'s gaze never left Aizawa.
'Midnight mentioned him before, he recalled. A coworker who avoids the spotlight. A man who erases Quirks and works where no one's watching.'
'So this is Eraser Head.'
Unseen by the class, All Might watched from the corridor, arms crossed. 'He avoids the media because it interferes with his work,' All Might thought.
'And... yes, Young Midoriya. We don't exactly get along.'
Aizawa's glowing eyes narrowed further. "From what I can tell, you can't control your Quirk at all."
Midoriya sucked in a breath.
"Do you intend to become incapacitated again and force someone else to save you?"
"Th-That's not my intention—!"
Before he could finish, Aizawa's capture weapon snapped out, wrapping tightly around Midoriya and yanking him forward.
"Intentions don't matter," Aizawa said coldly. "What matters is the result. There was once an oppressively passionate hero who saved over a thousand people by himself and became a legend."
His gaze shifted away, voice sharp and unyielding.
"But if you act with the same reckless valor, you'll save one person, then collapse. You'll become nothing more than a broken doll."
He looked back at Midoriya. "Izuku Midoriya. With your power, you can't—"
"...become a hero."
The words hit like a blade. Midoriya's eyes widened, his chest tightening as if his heart had shattered into fragments. He bit down hard on his lip, fists trembling at his sides.
The scarf loosened, falling limp as Aizawa's eyes returned to normal.
"I've restored your Quirk," he said. "You get two more throws. Hurry up and finish."
Murmurs rippled through the class.
"Sounds like he just got expelled..." Bakugo scoffed lightly.
"That had to be advice, right?" Tenya said.
"Are you worried about him?" someone whispered. "I'm not."
(Y/N) didn't join in. His eyes stayed locked on Midoriya, sharp with interest. 'What will you choose?' he wondered.
Midoriya lowered his head, muttering quietly to himself. Aizawa watched closely, applying eyedrops to his eyes.
'Will he go all out and accept an honorable defeat,' he thought, 'or shrink back and settle for last place? Either way...'
Zero potential.
Then, Midoriya moved. His muttering stopped. His posture straightened. Focus snapped into place. He channeled One For All, not into his arm, but into a single finger.
With a sharp motion, he flicked the ball skyward. The air cracked. The ball shot into the sky like a bullet, vanishing upward as the shockwave rippled through the field. Midoriya clenched his fist, breathing hard, but still standing.
He looked straight at Aizawa.
"Mr. Aizawa... I can still move."
Aizawa's eyes widened, then a grin slowly crept across his face.
"... This kid."
(Y/N)'s lips curved into a wide, crazy grin.
"You really are full of surprises, Izuku Midoriya."