"Two reasons?" Izuku repeated curiously. "I didn't realize I've just broken two rules. No wonder you're pretty upset about it, sensei."
Aizawa tried his best to calm his nerves... already regretting ever entertaining this whole ordeal.
"...The first reason for my judgment..." he muttered, trying to steady his words, "is that you didn't even try."
"...Oh."
Izuku blinked—awkwardly scratching his cheek, as if he'd just remembered something obvious.
"...You already realized, right?" Aizawa pressed, staring down the sheepish boy. "You've been sandbagging it this whole time."
"Huh... I never thought that would actually get me in trouble..." Izuku admitted with a weak laugh.
A raised eyebrow from Aizawa.
"I assume you've been doing this little act of yours for a while, huh."
"Yeah, I guess... it sorta became a habit at this point."
"A habit, you say? For crying out loud, kid..."
He couldn't help but palm his face at Izuku's matter-of-fact honesty.
"Midoriya, let me tell you—if you're trying to hold back, whatever you did was anything but subtle," Aizawa said flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He then began listing each one in turn—
"50-Meter Sprint—you matched Bakugou's running speed, even when she blasted herself forward. You kept pace—without any visible strain."
"Standing Long Jump—you landed exactly at the five-meter mark. Dead center. I thought it was coincidence at first... but it wasn't."
"Repeated Side Steps—you hit exactly fifty cycles. No misstep. No slowdown. No speeding up. Practically mechanical."
"Grip Strength—you locked it at exactly one hundred and fifty kilos. Not one more. Not one less. I don't think I even need to explain the rest of the test after this."
Izuku stood frozen, taking in every word with growing disbelief. From his expression alone, it was clear—he hadn't planned those "coincidences" at all.
"...You did all of that without realizing how absurd it looked," Aizawa continued, tone laced with sarcasm but edged with reluctant acknowledgment. "Which is impressive in its own right—no 'normal' human has that kind of control."
"Ahaha... well..."
"Your mistake was trying to act 'above average,' hiding behind your peers with special advantages—when in reality, you made yourself stand out as an anomaly among them."
"Well, when you put it that way..."
Izuku scratched the back of his head, trying to laugh it off, but the sound died when he caught Katsuki's grim expression.
"Kacchan... did you notice?" he asked carefully, recalling the disappointment in her eyes earlier.
Katsuki rubbed her shoulder, gaze slipping away.
"...Yeah, I did," she muttered with a sharp exhale, making him shrink even more. "I've always noticed—way before this. You always hold back... always trying to blend in, never showing what you're actually capable of, hoping you'd never stand out too much."
Izuku couldn't help but feel a tad bit embarrassed—not just because of how transparent he apparently was, but because Katsuki had been watching him so closely all this time.
"Maybe I should've told you earlier, Izuku," she added quietly, "but I didn't think it'd blow up like this."
"I see... I guess I should have noticed it myself too..."
Another tired sigh slipped from Aizawa at Izuku's admission.
"Kid, so you've been pulling this stunt for a while, huh?"
"Yeah... pretty much."
"Well, congratulations—you just screwed yourself over. Because you missed the entire point of this gauntlet."
"...Excuse me?"
Aizawa glanced toward the rest of the class—many of them shifting uneasily.
"Do you brats think I pulled out these time-wasting tests just for fun?"
Izuku blinked, still unsure. "What are you saying here, sensei?"
"Don't you realize how unfair this whole setup is to begin with?" Aizawa's tone sharpened. "A string of mostly physical tests—of course it favors kids with raw athletic ability or quirks built for output. And by now you've all noticed—only about half of you actually stood out."
His gaze drifted across the students... the ones with 'peculiar' quirks.
"Meanwhile, some of you have quirks that don't mean jack-shit in these conditions."
His eyes snapped back to Izuku, narrowing with quiet contempt.
"But so what? Should UA just toss them aside? Should we have just booted them out without a chance to prove themselves?"
He scoffed, low and sharp.
"Of course not. UA isn't just looking for someone who can smash a giant robot into scrap," he said, leering at Izuku, "we're looking for someone who can stand against the unfairness of the world."
He looked back at the rest of the class, scanning each face with an unyielding stare.
"If I wanted a powerhouse quirk, I could just grab a damn villain. But that's not the point of my test."
The class stiffened, realization starting to creep in.
"Same goes for athletic talent. Heroes aren't athletes chasing medals—they're people who throw themselves into the fire when everyone else runs away. Some of you have quirks that look weak—hell, some of you might even be weaker than the average crook..."
His eyes sharpened, voice dropping like a blade.
"But a hero doesn't get to make excuses when innocent lives are on the line."
His capture scarf swayed as he tilted his head back toward Izuku.
"That's what this gauntlet was for. Not just to measure your numbers... but to see your drive. To see how far you'd push yourself when your future's dangling over the edge."
He swept his gaze back across the class... and for a moment, his expression softened.
"...And many of you did exactly that. You fought against your limits, even knowing the odds weren't in your favor. You poured your blood, sweat, tears—your everything into not being expelled. That's the spirit I was looking for."
Then his eyes narrowed back to Izuku, startling him under the sudden scrutiny.
"But you, Midoriya—" Aizawa's voice dropped, colder, "—you didn't even break a sweat."
"—!"
"You didn't put in more than the bare minimum, and that's the problem—!" he snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger at Izuku. "On paper your results were impressive—but that's not what I wanted to see! What I wanted was proof that you were willing to push yourself past your limit!"
"Ack—!"
Izuku reeled back from the verbal blow, shame and disappointment crashing down on him as if he were the guilty defendant in some courtroom.
He clenched his fists, then glanced around... and his chest tightened.
All around him—his classmates. Their worn-out bodies—
Their ragged breaths. Sweat dripping down from their pale faces.
They had given their all...
But he hadn't.
And suddenly, the weight of it hit him—it was insensitive. He had made light of something they had poured themselves into.
"...I'm sorry, everyone."