One month.
Thirty-one days of Kimiko checking the mailbox every hour like a woman possessed. Thirty-one nights of me pretending to sleep. Thirty-one nights of her pacing at two in the morning. Her bare feet on the creaky floorboards became the soundtrack to my insomnia.
The tiny apartment felt smaller each day, the walls closing in like we were trapped in some sadistic pressure cooker designed by a particularly cruel deity. Every knock at the door sent Kimiko scrambling. Every delivery truck that rumbled past our window made her freeze mid-sentence, coffee cup suspended halfway to her lips.
I maintained my usual lazy composure, of course. Can't have the house thinking you're sweating the cards you've been dealt. But even I had to admit—the waiting was starting to wear thin.
"Yu-yu, the mail's here."
Kimiko's voice carried from the kitchen, pitched just high enough to betray the nerves she'd been hiding behind forced cheerfulness for weeks. I glanced up from my phone, where I'd been scrolling hero news. Anything to distract myself from the itch of a bet left hanging.
"Same as yesterday, I'm sure. Bills and advertisements for ramen shops we can't afford."
She appeared in the doorway, clutching a small stack of envelopes against her chest like a shield.
"Electric bill. Grocery store flyer. Something from the bank that I'm definitely not opening today." She paused, her mahogany eyes widening. "And... oh."
She held one envelope that stood out from the rest. Thick. Expensive. The kind of stationery that screamed important in bold, gold-embossed letters.
U.A. University. My name written in elegant script across the front.
Kimiko's hands trembled as she set the other mail aside. "It's here."
I rose from the couch. This was it. The moment that would determine whether I'd been playing the game correctly or if I'd misread the entire table.
We stood on opposite sides of the small kitchen table, the envelope between us like a loaded weapon. Kimiko's breathing had gone shallow, her fingers pressed against her lips.
"Open it," she whispered.
My fingers found the envelope's edge. The paper felt substantial, weighty. Either U.A. was very committed to their rejection letters, or this was the real deal.
The envelope tore with a satisfying rip, and something small and metallic tumbled onto the table. A device about the size of a casino chip, gleaming silver and humming with barely contained energy.
Before I could examine it closer, the device activated.
Light erupted from its surface, projecting upward in a brilliant column that resolved into a figure so iconic, so impossibly larger-than-life, that even in holographic form he dominated our tiny kitchen.
All Might. The Number One Hero. Seven feet of pure muscle and unwavering smile, his blonde hair defying gravity in two perfect antennae. Even as a projection no bigger than my hand, his presence filled the room.
"I AM HERE... AS A PROJECTION!"
Kimiko stumbled backward, her hand finding the counter for support. I stayed perfectly still, watching the greatest hero in the world materialize in our apartment like some benevolent digital deity.
"Greetings, young Murano! I bring news from U.A. University!"
The hologram's massive grin never wavered as he launched into what was clearly a standard speech about the entrance exam. The fact that All Might himself was delivering this message suggested success, but I'd learned never to count cards before the dealer finished dealing.
"The practical examination tested not only your combat prowess, but your heroic spirit! While many applicants focused solely on defeating villain robots for points, the faculty observed something far more important—your willingness to protect others!"
Kimiko's sharp intake of breath drew my attention. She'd moved closer to the table, her eyes locked on the hologram as if All Might might disappear if she looked away.
"You see, young Murano, there was a hidden scoring system! Rescue Points, awarded by our faculty for acts of heroism and selfless behavior!"
Here it comes. The moment of truth.
All Might's expression shifted, becoming more personal, more direct. When he spoke again, it felt like he was addressing me specifically, not delivering a mass-produced message.
"Your performance was extraordinary! Villain points: thirty-three! A fine score, placing you well within the acceptance range!"
Thirty-three points. Respectable, but not exceptional. I'd expected as much, given that my strategy.
"However..." All Might's grin somehow managed to grow even wider. "Your rescue point total tells a different story entirely!"
The hologram gestured, and numbers appeared in the air beside him, glowing gold against the blue projection.
"For your tactical coordination that enabled multiple rescues! For your split-second decision to neutralize the falling debris that threatened a fellow applicant! For your leadership in organizing a team response to the Zero-Pointer threat! Young Murano, you have earned SEVENTY RESCUE POINTS!"
Seventy.
The number hung in the air like a winning lottery ticket. Kimiko's hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
"Your total score of ONE HUNDRED AND THREE POINTS makes you the highest-scoring applicant in this year's entrance examination!"
The words hit me like a charged ball bearing to the chest. Number one. Not just accepted—dominant.
All Might's holographic form leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a tone of genuine respect.
"Your quick thinking under pressure, your tactical brilliance in coordinating multiple team members, and your willingness to put others' safety before your own point total demonstrate the qualities we seek in future heroes. You didn't just pass our test, young Murano—you redefined what it means to excel."
Kimiko was crying now. Not silent tears, but a raw, choked sound that seemed ripped from her chest. She pressed both hands to her mouth, her whole body shaking with the force of years of stress finally breaking free.
"The faculty was particularly impressed by your ability to see the bigger picture," All Might continued. "While other applicants focused on individual achievement, you recognized that true heroism requires cooperation, sacrifice, and the wisdom to know when breaking the rules serves a greater purpose."
Damn right I did. The hidden test had been obvious once you knew what to look for. U.A. wasn't just training fighters—they were building leaders. Heroes who could think beyond themselves, who could turn chaos into coordination.
"Young Murano, on behalf of the faculty and staff of U.A. University, I extend our warmest congratulations. Your journey to becoming a professional hero begins now!"
All Might straightened to his full holographic height, his cape billowing despite the lack of wind in our kitchen. When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of absolute conviction.
"WELCOME TO YOUR HERO ACADEMIA!"