Results and New Beginnings
The letter arrived exactly one week after the entrance exam.
Kenjiro stared at it from across the kitchen table, the crisp white envelope bearing the U.A. High School logo seeming to glow under the morning light. His parents flanked him—Mom wringing her hands nervously, Dad maintaining his usual calm demeanor but with tension visible in the set of his shoulders.
"Well?" Mom prompted gently. "Are you going to open it?"
Kenjiro's hands trembled slightly as he picked up the envelope. All week, he'd replayed the exam in his mind. The points he'd racked up, the rescues he'd made, that incredible moment when the green-haired boy had destroyed the zero-pointer. He was confident he'd done well, but U.A. was the most competitive hero school in Japan. Even "well" might not be enough.
He tore open the envelope. A small device fell out, projecting a hologram the moment it hit the table.
"I AM HERE! AS A PROJECTION!" All Might's booming voice filled the kitchen, his iconic grin blazing. "Young Ito! Congratulations! You have passed the U.A. entrance exam!"
Kenjiro's heart leaped into his throat. Aya gasped, clapping her hands together.
"But that's not all!" All Might continued. "Your performance was truly exceptional! In the villain point category, you scored 106 points—the highest in your testing group! But there was a second test you didn't know about!"
The projection shifted, showing footage from the exam. Kenjiro watched himself lifting rubble off the trapped girl, carrying her to safety, helping other examinees escape danger.
"RESCUE POINTS! Awarded by our panel of judges for heroic actions during the exam! And young Takahashi, you earned a remarkable 60 rescue points—again, the highest in your group! Your combined total of 166 points places you at the very top of all accepted students!"
The hologram showed a ranking board. At the very top: Ito, Kenjiro - 166 points (106 Villain + 60 Rescue).
"Welcome to U.A. High School's Hero Course, Class 1-A! PLUS ULTRA!"
The projection ended. Silence filled the kitchen.
The kitchen erupted. His mom let out a squeal that could've shattered glass, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug before he could even stand. "Oh, my baby! Highest? Kenjiro, that's incredible! I knew it—I knew all that hard work would pay off!"
Tears glistened in her eyes as she rocked him back and forth, her apron smelling faintly of pancakes and home. Kenjiro hugged her back, laughing now, the sound bubbling up from deep in his chest. It felt surreal, like a dream he might wake from any second.
His dad rose slowly, a rare, genuine smile cracking his usually stoic face. He clapped a hand on Kenjiro's back, pulling him into a one-armed embrace once his mom finally released him. "Damn proud of you, son. Highest in both? That's not just luck—that's you. All that speed, all that heart you put into helping others during the exam... it showed."
Kenjiro blinked back the sting in his own eyes, overwhelmed. "I... I didn't even know they scored rescues separately. I just... did what felt right."
His mom wiped her cheeks, beaming. "And that's why you deserve this. Now, we're celebrating! I'll make your favorite—extra pancakes, bacon, the works."
His dad chuckled, ruffling Kenjiro's hair like he was still a kid. "Agreed. You've earned it. But first, let's see that letter again—frame-worthy, I'd say."
His mother was already on her phone. "I have to call everyone! Your grandparents, Aunt Yuki, the neighbors—"
"Mom, please—"
"Absolutely not! This is the biggest news in the history of our family!" Mom was practically vibrating with excitement. "We're having a party tonight!"
The celebration that evening was modest but heartfelt. His grandparents drove over, bringing homemade mochi. His father's sister arrived with congratulatory flowers. Even a few neighbors stopped by after word spread through their apartment complex.
Kenjiro found himself the center of attention, fielding questions about the exam, his quirk, and what he planned to do as a hero. It was overwhelming but wonderful. These people had watched him grow up, had seen him struggle with control, had worried when he came home with singed shoes and exhausted limbs. Now they were celebrating his success as if it were their own.
By afternoon, the cake was baking (chocolate, with extra frosting), and Kenjiro finally slipped away to his room, phone in hand. The group chat with Toru and Ojiro was already lighting up.
Toru: Okay, spill! Anyone get their letter yet? I'm dying here!
Ojiro: Just opened mine. In—Class 1-A. 32 villain, 20 rescue. Solid, I think.
Kenjiro's fingers flew: Got mine too. Class 1-A. 106 villain, 60 rescue. Highest in both, apparently.
The responses exploded.
Toru: WHAT?! 106 VILLAIN? 60 RESCUE? You're a beast, Kenjiro! I knew all that zipping around saving people would pay off! Me: 25 villain, 20 rescue. Class 1-A too! We're all together!
Ojiro: Incredible. Knew you'd top it. Mine feels modest now, but... relieved. Class 1-A as well.
They made plans to meet at their usual café the following weekend. As Kenjiro put his phone away, he caught his father watching him with a thoughtful expression.
"Something on your mind, Dad?"
Hiroki considered his words carefully. "You know, when I first saw your quirk manifest, I was terrified."
Kenjiro blinked in surprise. His father rarely talked about those days.
"A quirk out of no where, You were so small, moving so fast we could barely see you. Your mother and I were constantly afraid you'd hurt yourself, or that we wouldn't be able to help you control it." Hiroki smiled softly. "But look at you now. Not only did you master it—you're using it to help people. I couldn't be prouder."
"Thanks, Dad. For everything. I know it wasn't easy."
"The best things never are," Dad replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. You've got a big future ahead of you."
**Two Months Later**
The gates of U.A. High School looked exactly as imposing as they had on exam day, but now they felt different. Now they were his gates. Kenjiro adjusted his tie and squared his shoulders, joining the stream of first-year students making their way onto campus.
He'd grown slightly over the summer break. Not taller—that had plateaued at 5'8"—but broader through the shoulders, his training having added lean muscle to his frame. He carried his bag with the same casual confidence he'd developed over months of preparation.
"Kenjiro!"
He turned to see Toru's distinctive floating uniform bounding toward him, followed by the familiar figure of Mashirao.
"Can you believe it? We're actually here!" Toru's voice was pitched high with excitement.
"It feels surreal," Mashirao agreed, though he looked more composed than their invisible friend.
They walked together toward the main building, joining clusters of other first-years. Kenjiro recognized some faces from the entrance exam—the explosive blonde who'd been demolishing robots with reckless abandon, the green-haired boy who'd punched the zero-pointer, the girl he'd rescued from the rubble.
"There's the crazy guy who punched the giant robot," he murmured to his friends, nodding toward the green-haired boy.
"That was him?" Toru's voice was awed. "He looks so... normal."
"Appearances can be deceiving," Mashirao observed.
They found their classroom—1-A—without much trouble. The door was massive, clearly designed to accommodate students with unusual body types or quirks. Kenjiro took a deep breath before sliding it open.
The classroom buzzed with conversation. Students had arranged themselves in small groups, some already seeming to know each other. Kenjiro's eyes immediately went to the seating chart posted on the board, finding his name in the middle of the room.
"Ito, seat 13," he read aloud.
"I'm 15, Hagakure," Toru said, bouncing toward the back.
"Ojiro, seat 3," Mashirao noted, heading toward the front.
Kenjiro made his way to his assigned seat, noting his neighbors. To his left sat a girl with pink skin and small horns—he remembered her from the train ride to the exam. Behind him, the explosive blonde was already seated, scowling at anyone who looked in his direction.
"Hey! You're the speed guy from the exam!"
Kenjiro turned to see a boy with spiky red hair and an enthusiastic grin approaching. "I'm Kirishima! That was so manly, the way you were zipping around helping people!"
"Uh, thanks," Kenjiro replied, a bit taken aback by the enthusiasm. "Just doing what felt right."
"That's so cool! I wish I could move that fast. My quirk just makes me hard."
Before Kenjiro could process that statement, a new voice cut through the chatter.
"Take your feet off that desk! Such disrespect toward the school and your fellow classmates is unbecoming!"
The voice belonged to a tall boy with dark blue hair and glasses—the same boy who'd stood up during the exam presentation. He was facing off against the explosive blonde, who had indeed propped his feet up on his desk.
"Like I care what you think, four-eyes," the blonde snarled. "What middle school did you come from anyway, you stuck-up piece of—"
"I attended Somei Private Academy! My name is Tenya Iida!"
"Somei?!" The blonde's expression grew even more annoyed. "So you think you're better than everyone else!"
Kenjiro watched the exchange with interest. The dynamics were already forming, personalities clashing and aligning. He caught sight of the green-haired boy sitting near the front, looking overwhelmed by all the noise and energy.
That's when he noticed her.
The girl he'd rescued during the exam was standing near Iida and the green-haired boy, her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke to them. She looked much better than she had pinned under that rubble—healthy color in her cheeks, no sign of the ankle injury that had prevented her from escaping on her own.
Their eyes met across the room. Her face lit up with recognition, and she started toward him.
"Um, excuse me!" she called out, causing several heads to turn. "You're the one who saved me during the exam!"
The classroom gradually quieted as she approached his desk. Kenjiro felt heat rise in his cheeks as attention focused on him.
"It was nothing," he said quickly. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No, they wouldn't have," she insisted earnestly. "Most people were running away from that giant robot. But you ran toward it to help people. That was really amazing!"
"What's your name?" Kirishima asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Oh! I'm Ochaco Uraraka!" She bowed slightly. "And you're...?"
"Kenjiro Takahashi." He glanced around the room, noting that most conversations had paused. "Really, it was just—"
"You were the top scorer, weren't you?"
The new voice came from a girl with black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was seated near the front of the room, her posture perfect, her expression analytical.
"I'm Momo Yaoyorozu," she continued. "I was admitted through recommendations. Your performance during the practical exam was quite impressive from what I heard—the highest combined score of all general admission students. I'd like to discuss your strategies sometime."
Kenjiro blinked, surprised by her directness. "Uh, sure. Maybe after—"
"WHAT?!"
The explosive blonde had shot to his feet, his hands beginning to spark and smoke. His red eyes were fixed on Kenjiro with undisguised hostility.
"You're telling me this scrawny piece of shit scored higher than me?!"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Several students took involuntary steps back as small explosions began popping around the blonde's hands.
"Hey now," Kirishima said, moving slightly between them with his hands raised peacefully. "No need to get worked up—"
"Shut up, weird hair!" The blonde's attention never left Kenjiro. "What's your quirk, huh? Some kind of bullshit support ability? There's no way you're stronger than me!"
Kenjiro stood slowly, his own calm demeanor never wavering despite the aggressive posturing. "I don't think this is the time or place—"
"I'll decide that! I'm Katsuki Bakugo, and I'm going to be the number one hero! So explain to me how some nobody beat my score!"
The tension was thick enough to cut. Other students watched nervously as Bakugo's explosions grew larger. Kenjiro felt the familiar sensation of time beginning to slow as his quirk responded to the perceived threat, but he kept it tightly controlled.
"Look, Bakugo," he said evenly, "we're classmates now. We're supposed to be on the same side."
"Don't give me that friendship crap! I don't care about—"
"If you're all finished with your dramatic introductions..."
The new voice was dry, tired, and completely unimpressed. Everyone turned toward the door to see a man in a yellow sleeping bag standing there, his long black hair hanging loose around his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"It took you all eight seconds to quiet down. Time is a precious resource. You've wasted it."
He shuffled into the room, unzipping the sleeping bag to reveal a simple black outfit beneath. "I'm Shota Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. Change into these and meet me at Training Ground Beta in ten minutes."
He held up a blue and white gym uniform. "Don't dawdle."
Training Ground Beta was a large outdoor area with various exercise equipment and measurement devices scattered across artificial turf. The twenty students of Class 1-A stood in a loose group, all now wearing the standard U.A. gym uniforms.
Aizawa stood before them looking supremely disinterested in everything around him. "Before we begin, I should mention that you won't be attending the orientation ceremony."
Immediately, hands shot up. Uraraka was the first to speak.
"But sir! The orientation ceremony is an important school tradition! And then there's the guidance counselor meeting, and—"
"I have the ability to run my homeroom class however I desire," Aizawa interrupted, his tone making it clear the discussion was over. "U.A. is famous for its freestyle educational system. That extends to its teachers."
He pulled out what looked like a smartphone. "You've all completed physical fitness tests before, correct? The standard battery—50-meter dash, standing long jump, grip strength, and so forth. But you've never been allowed to use your quirks during these tests."
Several students perked up with interest. This was sounding more promising than a boring ceremony.
"Today, we'll be conducting a quirk apprehension test," Aizawa continued. "You'll perform the same eight physical challenges, but this time you can use your quirks to enhance your performance. Whoever comes in last place will be judged to have no potential and will be expelled immediately."
The mood shifted instantly. Excited murmurs became worried whispers. Several students looked genuinely panicked.
"Expelled?!" Uraraka squeaked. "But we just got here! This is our first day!"
"Natural disasters, terrorist attacks, villains causing mayhem—disasters can strike at any time. Heroes don't get the luxury of warning or preparation time," Aizawa explained with cold logic. "In three years here, U.A. will turn you into heroes worthy of the name. If you think you can slack off and have fun playing at being heroes, then you're in the wrong place."
He turned his attention to Kenjiro, his black eyes calculating. "Ito, you had the highest combined score in the entrance exam. What was your best ball throw in middle school?"
"62 meters, sir."
Aizawa tossed him a softball. "Try again, with your quirk this time. Do whatever you want, just stay in the circle."
Kenjiro caught the softball, feeling its weight. Around him, his classmates watched with varying degrees of curiosity and concern. Bakugo looked particularly interested, clearly wanting to see what the top scorer could do.
This was it. His first real test as a U.A. student. He couldn't just throw it. He had to launch it. He had to make a statement, but he also couldn't afford to be expelled on the first day.
He held the ball loosely in his right hand. He didn't need a wind-up. He just needed acceleration. He took a slow breath, and then he focused.
The world around him slowed to a crawl. The nervous shuffling of his classmates became a deep, drawn-out hum. Aizawa's bored blinking was a languid, slow-motion event. In the span of a single, stretched second, Kenjiro ran. He ran a tight, perfect circle inside the throwing ring a dozen times, a blue-and-white blur, building impossible momentum with each lap, his right hand held out, the ball pressed firmly against his palm by the sheer centripetal force.
To everyone else, it was a blur of motion and a sudden, deafening CRACK of air being violently displaced. There was no visible throw. One moment the ball was in his hand, the next it was a vanishing speck in the sky, leaving behind a faint heat haze and the smell of ozone.
Aizawa looked down at the meter in his hand. His eyebrow twitched, almost imperceptibly. The digital readout flashed.
∞
It held for a second, then the device sparked, emitted a pathetic puff of smoke, and died.
The class was utterly, completely dead silent, staring at the smoking gadget.
"I… I think I broke it, sir," Kenjiro said, a little sheepishly. He'd maybe gotten a little carried away.
"It seems you applied enough force to achieve escape velocity," Aizawa said, his voice utterly flat. He dropped the broken meter on the ground without a second glance. "It's not an invalid result. Infinity. A logical conclusion." He then turned his dead-eyed gaze on the rest of the stunned class. "Now. The rest of you. Stop gawking and get started. We have seven more tests."
The class organized itself quickly. Kenjiro found himself paired with Iida, who looked confident and composed.
"Your quirk is speed-related too, if I recall correctly," Iida said as they took their positions. "This should be an interesting comparison."
"Yeah," Kenjiro replied, settling into a starting crouch. "May the best speedster win."
The starting robot raised its flag. "Runners, on your mark!"
Kenjiro felt the familiar sensation of time beginning to dilate. Colors sharpened, sounds stretched. The world held its breath.
"GO!"
The flag dropped.
Kenjiro moved.
He didn't gradually accelerate like a normal sprinter. He simply went from stationary to full speed in the space between one heartbeat and the next. The world became a blur of motion, the finish line rushing toward him at impossible velocity.
He crossed it and began decelerating, the world slowly returning to normal speed. Only then did he hear the gasps from his classmates.
He turned to see Iida still running, his engines blazing with blue exhaust. The other boy finished a respectable few seconds later, but the difference was stark.
"Time!" the robot announced. "Ito: 0.04 seconds! Iida: 3.04 seconds!"
Silence fell over Training Ground Beta. Even Aizawa looked up from his phone with mild interest.
"That's..." Yaoyorozu started, then stopped, apparently unable to finish the thought.
"That's impossible," Bakugo snarled. "No way that's right!"
"The measurement is accurate," Aizawa said simply. "Ito, your quirk is?"
"Acceleration," Kenjiro replied, trying to ignore the stares from his classmates. "I can speed up my personal timestream."
"Interesting. Next pair."
As the other students took their turns, Kenjiro caught fragments of whispered conversations.
"Did you see that? He was just... gone."
"Faster than Iida's engines..."
"No wonder he got the highest score on the entrance exam."
For the grip strength test, Kenjiro didn't just squeeze the dynamometer. He focused on vibrating his hand at a high frequency, the internal mechanism of the grip-tester rattling violently before it gave a reading of 862 kg and then, with a sad pop, the display went dark.
The standing long jump was almost a joke. The sandbox was maybe five meters long. Kenjiro just took two steps and ran straight up into the air, arcing gracefully before landing a good ten meters clear of the pit.
But the repeated side steps were where he truly felt in his element. The test was designed to measure agility and lower body strength, to see how quickly you could move between three lines. For Kenjiro, it was like asking a hurricane to please blow between three specific points. The world became a blur around him. The electronic device meant to count his steps made a sound like a frantic machine gun before its display overloaded with numbers and died completely. Aizawa just sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and wrote down an estimated number on his clipboard.
The test was the ball throw. Kenjiro had already gone, leaving a broken meter and a stunned class in his wake. One by one, others took their turns. The girl with the gravity quirk, Uraraka, sent a ball into infinity. The explosive boy, Bakugo, got over 700 meters with a deafening blast.
Then it was Midoriya's turn.
Kenjiro watched with keen interest. This was the kid who had shattered the zero-pointer. What would he do?
Midoriya stepped into the circle, his body tense with a desperation that was palpable. This was his last chance to score any points. He reared back, his right arm cocking to throw, Kenjiro leaned forward. Here it comes.
But the energy didn't surge. It flickered and died. Midoriya's arm went limp, the power vanishing as if it had never been there. He looked down at his own hand, confused and panicked.
"I'll stop you right there."
All eyes snapped to their teacher. Aizawa's hair was floating, his eyes glowing a terrifying, hellish red. "I erased your quirk," Aizawa stated, his voice a flat, bored drone. The glow in his eyes faded, his hair settling. "That entrance exam was irrational. If you can't control your own power, you have no business being here."
Midoriya stared, utterly bewildered. "E-erased…?That glow… You can erase other people's quirks just by looking at them… You're the Erasure Hero: Eraser Head!"
A murmur ran through the class. Eraser Head? It wasn't a name any of them knew. Kenjiro filed the information away. A quirk that could nullify other quirks. It was a terrifyingly powerful ability for a teacher to have.
"The judges for the exam were not rational," Aizawa continued, utterly dismissive. "Someone like you should never have been accepted." He held up his phone, showing the class the gruesome image of Midoriya's shattered limbs from the entrance exam. A collective wince went through the students. "You became incapacitated after a single move. In a real fight, you'd be a liability. A damsel in distress, waiting for someone else to save you. So, you have two turns for your throw. Let's get this over with. Hurry up."
The dismissal was absolute. Humiliating. Midoriya looked utterly crushed. His shoulders slumped as he made a weak, pathetic throw with just his arm. The ball arced lamely through the air.
46.9 meters.
The meter displayed the pitiful result to the silent class.
Aizawa was unimpressed. "That power of yours is useless." He gestured to the ball. "Your second throw. Let's go."
Midoriya picked up the second ball. He was trembling, but a new resolve was hardening on his face. He looked at Aizawa, tears in his eyes but his jaw set.
He looked down at his hand, clenching it into a fist. 'He's right. I can't control a full power smash. Not yet. But… "
He reared back, and this time, instead of a full-body throw, he focused everything into a single, precise flick of his index finger.
SMAAAASH!!!
The sound was like a gunshot. A concentrated blast of wind erupted from his fingertip, launching the ball into the sky with tremendous force. He cried out, gripping his now-bloody, swollen finger, but he was still standing. He hadn't shattered his whole arm.
Aizawa looked down at the meter. 705.3 meters. His expression was unreadable.
"Sensei" midoriya called out, before saying "I can still move!". Aizawa smiled as he thought 'This kid', as he showed the result to the class before pocketing the device.
"...You figured out how to control it in a limited way. To focus the output into a single point. A logical, if crude, solution."
On the sidelines, Ochaco cheered. "He did it! That was amazing, Midoriya!"
Tenya adjusted his glasses, analyzing the result. "Fascinating! To channel such power so precisely!"
But one reaction was not positive. Bakugo stood frozen, his face a canvas of shock, horror, and utter, incandescent rage. He was staring at Deku—useless, Quirkless Deku—as if the world had just turned inside out. The number on the meter was impossible. It was a number only he should have been capable of. His hands sparked faintly at his sides, his breath coming in short, furious bursts. The sheer, impossible wrongness of it was a physical blow.
Before he could lunge forward and demand answers, Aizawa's capture weapon shot out, wrapping around him and yanking him back. "Stop," the teacher said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't tell you twice."
The rest of the tests passed in a blur. Kenjiro dominated each one, but his mind was reeling from the display he'd witnessed. Finally, it was over. Aizawa stood before them, holding up a tablet. "Time for the results."
A ranked list projected into the air.
1. Kenjiro Ito
2. Momo Yaoyorozu
3. Shoto Todoroki
4. Katsuki Bakugo
5. Tenya Iida
...
18. Toru Hagakure
19. Kyoka Jiro
20. Izuku Midoriya
A tense silence followed. Midoriya was last, cradling his injured finger.
Aizawa's gaze swept over them. "And I was lying about the expulsion."
The class collectively gasped. Uraraka clutched her chest. Kirishima let out a strangled "Huh?!"
"It was a logical ruse," Aizawa said, his voice flat. "To pull the best possible performances out of you all." He then began to shuffle away. "Your curriculum sheets are back in the classroom. Look them over." He paused, glancing back at Midoriya. "Go see Recovery Girl. And Ito?"
Kenjiro straightened up. "Yes, sensei?"
The teacher didn't even look back. "Try not to break any more school equipment. It's illogical." And with that, he was gone.
For a second, nobody moved. Then, the class erupted into chatter. Uraraka and Iida rushed to Midoriya's side.