Mewtwo and Mirio engaged Mirko in close combat, moving with fluid precision. On Lemillion's side, he used his Quirk with expert timing—phasing through her attacks and reappearing at just the right moment to strike.
Even for a pro hero like Mirko, keeping up with Mirio's unpredictable style was a serious challenge. His ability to bypass physical attacks entirely made him a dangerous opponent on his own—let alone with two others pressing in from all sides.
Tamaki—Suneater—attacked from multiple angles, his tentacles shifting form and lashing out with relentless speed. The battlefield was a blur of movement.
For Mirko, this wasn't just a high-speed fight—it was a careful balancing act. She couldn't go all out. These were still students. If she used her full strength recklessly, she could seriously hurt them. And at the same time, she was already racking up injuries of her own and the extra weights made it impossible for her to be faster. She reminded herself: This is still just a test.
Mewtwo, or as Mirko half-jokingly thought of him, the alien cat, darted in with a combination of basic strikes and heavy telekinetic blows. It was easy to tell when a special move was coming—his arms would glow faintly before the hit. Each of those powered attacks hit like a freight train, rattling through her arms and legs, wearing down her body armor one piece at a time.
Even with her enhanced physique, the damage was adding up. The force behind every strike was becoming harder and harder to shrug off.
Then something unexpected happened.
Mewtwo suddenly multiplied. In the blink of an eye, eight identical copies surrounded her, each one rushing in with synchronized attacks. Combined with the pressure from Lemillion and Suneater, it was almost too much.
Her sharp senses kicked in.
Mirko's ears twitched as she filtered the chaos. Among the illusions, her hearing picked out the one that breathed. The one that moved with weight. The real Mewtwo.
She pivoted just in time, blocking the genuine strike and letting the decoys pass harmlessly around her. But even as she handled that, a new threat descended.
Energy threads fell from above—Nejire-chan's power. Mirko moved to counter them, but just as she did, something slammed into her head three times in rapid succession.
A psychic blast.
A single confusion attack—but it felt like her mind shifted inside her skull. Her vision blurred. Balance wavered. That split-second of disorientation was all it took.
The energy threads wrapped tightly around her, locking her arms and legs in place.
At the same time, Mewtwo acted quickly. From his armor, he summoned the metal spoon he had kept hidden—unused until now.
He'd hesitated to rely on it, unsure of his control and not wanting to risk overextending against a pro hero. But with the opportunity in front of him, he seized it.
Channeling his psychic energy through the spoon, he bent the metal around Mirko like a restraint, forming a reinforced loop around her midsection. Simultaneously, Nejire-chan kept her energy swirling around the pro hero, maintaining the bind. Suneater stood ready, his tentacles raised in case she broke free again. Lemillion hovered nearby, prepared to phase and strike if necessary.
But before anyone could take the next step, Mirko's voice broke through the tension.
And her words caught all four of them completely off guard.
"Don't worry, I'm done fighting," Mirko said, her voice calm but edged with exhaustion.
"You beat me, kids. Seriously—impressive work. Your coordination was spot-on. If I wanted to keep going against the four of you, I'd have to ditch the protectors on my arms and legs. But since I can't do that... I concede. This one's yours. And judging by the sounds I'm hearing, the test is just about over anyway."
Her words stunned the group. They hadn't expected it—not a real win, not like this. Sure, they knew she'd been holding back, restricted by her gear and the nature of the test, but still... beating a top pro hero like Mirko, even under limited conditions, felt surreal.
No one said anything at first. No one moved to untie her either.
She was still technically the "villain" in the scenario. And just because she surrendered didn't mean they were going to make a rookie mistake and let her go. They held their positions, carefully keeping her restrained and their guard up, waiting for the official signal that the test had ended.
Just as Mirko predicted, a loud bell rang across the stadium only moments later. Then, a voice echoed through the speakers:
"Test complete. All civilians in the area have been safely evacuated. Villains have been neutralized. I repeat: the test is over. Please proceed to Waiting Area Number Two. Follow the illuminated number in the stadium."
Right on cue, a massive glowing number 2 lit up beneath a large set of doors at the far end of the stadium.
Mewtwo exhaled and released his psychic grip, reshaping his metal spoon with a thought and sliding it back into his armor. He then used Life Dew, sending a calming, healing water over the group to ease any injuries they'd sustained during the fight. Once everyone had recovered, they made their way toward the new waiting area together.
This room resembled the first, but it was clearly more comfortable—probably to help them decompress. Softer couches were arranged around the space, the chairs had more padding, and a small buffet table was set up in one corner with snacks and drinks. Most of the students had Quirks that consumed a lot of energy, so food was a welcome sight.
They waited there for about an hour.
Eventually, Yokumiru entered the room and stepped to the front of a long conference table, microphone in hand. Behind him loomed an enormous digital screen.
Sleep-deprived and a little disheveled, the man cleared his throat and finally spoke.
"Alright. Behind me, you'll see the list of everyone who passed the exam. Full details will be sent out later today in the official report. We worked fast to get this done. The scoring system was based on 100 points. If your score dropped below 50, you automatically failed the Provisional Hero Exam."
He paused, looking around the room.
"The instructors in the field were responsible for deducting points based on the mistakes you made during the test. Now, without further delay, here are the names of those who passed."
The giant screen came to life, a list of names scrolling down in clean white text. But it didn't go as far as many had hoped.
Only 44 names appeared.
That meant 46 students failed the test—more than half. The room fell into quiet shock.
This exam had clearly been tougher than it looked.
Mewtwo's eyes scanned the list quickly, his nerves rising. He was confident, but not certain—not after that tense exchange with the old man earlier. He knew he'd done well in combat, but part of him still feared that something might have cost him too many points.
He kept searching, heart pounding, until finally—he found his name.
There it was—his name, clear and unmistakable, right in the middle of the list. The names were sorted alphabetically by hero alias, so he wasn't first, but he wasn't last either.
Around him, the atmosphere was a strange mix of joy and disappointment.
Faces lit up with triumph were scattered among others marked by quiet frustration or barely hidden tears. It was obvious that many hadn't passed.
Mewtwo quickly scanned the list again, this time looking for the names of his classmates. Relief washed over him—every single one of them had passed. For U.A., it was a complete success. All their selected students had earned their provisional hero licenses.
Soon after, several staff members from the Hero Public Safety Bureau began walking around the room, handing out folders to those who had passed. The folders were thick, official-looking, stamped with the bureau's seal.
Mewtwo took his and held it for a moment.
Once the initial excitement and disappointment settled, Yokumiru stepped back to the microphone at the center of the conference area. The massive screen behind him now displayed the bureau's emblem.
"Starting today," Yokumiru announced, his voice clearer and firmer than before, "all of you who passed are officially welcome into the hero society. From now on, you are permitted to use your Quirks within city limits to help civilians, assist during emergencies, and fight villains when necessary."
He paused to let the words sink in. The room was silent.
"But with that permission," he continued, "comes responsibility. You are no longer just students. You now hold the same duties as a professional hero. Society will look to you for help, for protection, and sometimes, even hope. You carry their trust, and their lives may one day depend on your actions."
His usual exhausted demeanor had momentarily vanished, replaced by a solemn pride.
"Congratulations to all of you who passed," he said. "You've earned it."
Then his tone softened. "As for those who didn't make it this time—don't be discouraged. Let this be a moment to learn from. You'll have another chance to retake the exam in future semesters. Keep training, keep growing."
He tapped the folder he held. "Inside what you've received, you'll find your full evaluation, as well as an envelope. Inside that envelope is your provisional hero license. It's personal and non-transferable. Treat it like a second form of ID. Even if it's lost, no one else can use it."
With a final nod, Yokumiru stepped down from the platform and quietly exited the room, leaving the students to absorb the magnitude of what had just happened.
One by one, they regrouped with their schools. Conversations buzzed as they opened their folders, comparing scores and comments. Mewtwo, still in his hero form, opened his own folder with calm curiosity. He first pulled out the license—it was sleek, white with bold purple accents. The photo showed him transformed, a shot taken long ago back at U.A., not something recent. Still, it felt oddly fitting.
Then he looked at his evaluation. Final score: 96 out of 100. The only written feedback was a short line: "A little rude, but right." He blinked at it, unsure whether to be amused or offended.
He glanced around and compared his results with those of his classmates. Most hovered in the high 80s and low 90s—scores ranging from 87 to 95. All six of them had done exceptionally well. Other students in the room had lower scores, but still respectable—none had dipped below 70.
After today, it truly felt like the first real step toward becoming a professional hero. And honestly, the sense of accomplishment felt amazing—better than he had expected.
There was a quiet pride settling in his chest, and he couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had done it. He passed the exam. He couldn't wait to tell his parents—they were going to be so proud. This was a huge moment.
And Kaina. Even Emi. He hadn't talked to his best friend in a while. They used to chat all the time, but things had gotten busy. He promised himself he'd call her tonight—at the very least, she deserved to hear the news from him directly.
He planned to call them all once he got back to the U.A. dorms with the others. But first, pizza. The group had already made plans for a little celebration—a mini party at the dorms.
Just the eleven of them who had passed the test. They didn't want to leave anyone out, but they also understood that some of their classmates were still feeling down about not making it through the earlier exam. It wasn't personal; it was just about enjoying the moment without making anyone else feel worse.
Besides, it was getting late. Most of the other students had probably already headed home. Tomorrow was Saturday, meaning there wouldn't be any classes. For the celebration to happen, the students who lived in the dorms had to get permission from a teacher—specifically, from Snipe. Thankfully, he agreed, but under two clear conditions.
First, all the girls staying overnight had to sleep in Nejire's room, and all the boys had to stick to one of the designated boys' dorm rooms. Second, they had to personally get their classmates' consent to stay on school grounds until 7:00 a.m. the next morning. No exceptions.
Fortunately, everything worked out. Everyone they invited was on board, and the group stuck to Snipe's rules without any trouble.
That night, surrounded by friends, laughter, and way too much pizza, they celebrated.