February 26th – U.A. High School Entrance Exam
The written exam hall was a cavernous auditorium, silent except for the rustling of paper and the collective anxiety of hundreds of students. The air was thick with tension—a cocktail of sweat, fear, and desperate ambition.
Choso sat in row G, seat 12. He glanced around, observing the emotional spectrum of his competition. To his left, a boy was shaking his leg so violently the desk was vibrating. To his right, a girl was muttering formulas under her breath like a mantra.
Anxiety. Desperation. Hope. It's thick enough to choke on, Choso thought, leaning back in his chair. They treat this test like it's the end of the world. In a way, for them, it is.
"Listen up, examinees!"
The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the murmurs instantly. Standing at the podium was the Pro Hero Snipe, his signature gas mask and cowboy hat making him look out of place in an academic setting.
"I am the proctor for this sector," Snipe announced, his voice muffled slightly by the mask but carried by the microphone. "The written exam will last for three hours. Cheating will result in immediate disqualification. And don't think you can try anything clever with your quirks..." He tapped the gun at his hip. "My quirk allows me to lock onto any target. I can spot a wandering eye from a mile away. Keep your eyes on your own paper."
The threat was casual but effective. Everyone stiffened.
Choso glanced a few rows ahead. A boy with glasses and a severe haircut sat with perfect posture, already holding his pencil like a weapon.
Iida Tenya, Choso recognized. Alphabetical seating. Iida, then Itadori. He looks like he's about to dismantle the test with pure discipline.
"Begin!"
The sound of flipping pages filled the room like a sudden gust of wind.
Choso looked down at his test. It was separated into sections: General Knowledge, Quirk Law & History, Tactical Analysis, and finally, the Essay.
He picked up his pencil.
Question 1: In the event of a villain attack in a dense urban environment causing structural instability to a skyscraper, what is the priority of a responding hero?
A) Subdue the villain.B) Evacuate the civilians.C) Stabilize the structure.D) Call for backup.
Standard hero ethics, Choso mused, circling B. Lives first. Always lives first. But in a real sorcerer battle, you might have to kill the curse to stop it from killing everyone else. Hero society is softer. They prioritize the save over the victory.
He moved through the questions methodically. Math, English, Japanese History—it was all standard curriculum he had studied relentlessly. His mental age gave him an advantage in comprehension, but the hero-specific laws were tricky. He had to think like a lawyer, not a vigilante.
Question 45: Explain the significance of the Quirk Regulation Act of 21XX.
Choso wrote quickly. It was the shackle that turned extraordinary power into a bureaucratic license. It traded freedom for safety, creating a monopoly on violence held by the state-sanctioned 'Heroes'.
He paused. Too cynical? Maybe. He softened the language. It established the framework for a safe society where power is regulated to prevent chaos.
Finally, he reached the last section. The Essay.
"What does it mean to be a Hero?"
Choso stared at the blank lines. It was the most cliché question imaginable, yet the most dangerous.
He thought of the Choso from his past life. A Death Painting. A curse. A brother who lived for his family. He thought of Yuji Itadori, who swallowed a finger to save strangers. He thought of Gojo Satoru, the strongest, who bore the weight of the world alone.
Strength is not a privilege, Choso wrote, the lead digging into the paper. It is a burden.
He continued, his hand moving with conviction.
A Hero is not defined by the glory of victory or the adoration of the masses. Those are byproducts. To be a Hero is to recognize that you possess the power to deny tragedy. It is the active refusal to let the strong trample the weak.
In a world of Quirks, inequality is a biological fact. Some are born with the power to move mountains, others with nothing. A Hero exists to balance this equation. They are the anomaly that stands between the defenseless and the inevitable cruelty of the world.
However, true heroism requires a curse. The curse of self-sacrifice. To save others is to continuously carve away pieces of oneself—time, safety, and sometimes, humanity. A Hero must be willing to burn themselves as fuel to keep the light of society burning. It is not about being a 'symbol' or an 'idol'. It is about being a brother to those who have none. It is about standing in front of the truck, the villain, or the curse, and saying, "You go no further."
To be a Hero is to live for others, even if it means dying for them.
Choso put the pencil down. He looked at the words. It was intense, perhaps a bit dark for a fifteen-year-old, but it was honest. It was the philosophy of a one of the best big brother in anime/manga.
He stood up, the chair scraping loudly in the quiet room.
He walked to the front, handing his paper to a surprised Snipe. There were still fifteen minutes left on the clock.
"Finished already?" Snipe raised an eyebrow under his mask.
"I said what I needed to say," Choso replied quietly.
He walked out of the auditorium, feeling the eyes of the other students burning into his back.
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The waiting room for the practical exam was buzzing. Choso sat in a corner, eyes closed, regulating his breathing. He visualized the Cursed Energy in his gut, churning like a dark engine.
Seventy-two percent synchronization. It's enough.
Riiiiing!
The bell signaled the end of the written portion. Soon, the room filled with the remaining examinees.
The lights dimmed, and the large screen at the front flared to life.
"EVERYBODY SAY HEY!!!"
Present Mic stood on the stage, his voice amplified to ear-shattering levels. Silence greeted him.
"Tough crowd," Mic shrugged, not missing a beat. "Welcome to the practical exam briefing! Are you ready to rock?!"
He launched into the explanation. Three types of robots. Points based on difficulty. Urban terrain.
"Excuse me! May I ask a question?"
A hand shot up in the middle of the auditorium. Spotlight on Iida Tenya.
"There are four types of villains on this handout," Iida declared, his voice chopping the air. "If this is a printing error, U.A. should be ashamed! We are here for exemplary guidance!"
He spun around, pointing a finger directly at a trembling Midoriya. "And you! With the curly hair! You've been muttering this whole time. It's distracting! If you're here on a pleasure trip, then leave immediately!"
Midoriya shrank into his seat, mumbling an apology.
And there it is, Choso thought, suppressing a sigh. Iida's intensity is dialed up to eleven. At least I'm not in their group.
He looked at his card. Battle Center D. Midoriya and Bakugo were in other centers to prevent them from working together (or killing each other).
"Okay, okay, calm down, Examinee 7111!" Present Mic waved his hands. "The fourth robot is worth zero points! It's just an obstacle. A gimmick! Think of it like a Thwomp from Mario Brothers! If you see it, run away!"
The Zero Pointer, Choso noted. A test of character and strength.
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Battle Center D
The bus ride was short and silent. Choso stepped off the bus, staring up at the massive gates of the mock city. It was huge—a full-scale urban replica.
He looked around at his competition. Most were stretching or shaking out their nerves.
His eyes landed on a boy with a bird head standing stoically near the back.
Fumikage Tokoyami, Choso recognized. Dark Shadow. Strong. Versatile.
He didn't see anyone else notable from Class 1-A. That meant this was his playground.
The other examinees were clustered near the gate, waiting for a signal. Waiting for a countdown.
Amateurs.
Choso walked to the very front, his toes touching the line. He dropped into a low stance, his hands loose at his sides.
Flowing Red Scale.
He didn't activate the full technique to avoid the visual giveaway of the red lines just yet, but he flooded his legs with blood and reinforced them with Cursed Energy. He felt the muscles coil like high-tension springs.
"AND... START!" Present Mic's voice boomed from the watchtower speakers.
The other examinees flinched, looking around confused. "Start? But there was no countdown!"
Too slow.
BOOM.
Choso exploded off the starting line. The concrete beneath his feet cracked from the force of his launch. He was a blur of black uniform, tearing through the open gate while the others were still processing the announcement.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Present Mic yelled, his voice echoing over the city. "THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL BATTLES! GO! GO! GO! THAT KID IS ALREADY AHEAD OF YOU!"
Choso didn't look back. He was already down the main street, his eyes scanning for targets.
Let's paint the town red.
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