Chapter 1: The Entrance Exam
The sun rose over the sprawling U.A. campus, casting long shadows across the training
grounds. Excitement and anxiety mingled in the air, thick enough to taste. Today was the
entrance exam, the day that would decide who could step into the world of heroes—and
who would be left behind. Among the throng of hopefuls, one boy stood apart.
Izuku Midoriya adjusted the strap of his bag, his green eyes sweeping the arena with
calculated calm. Unlike the others, he didn't fidget or glance nervously at the looming
exam hall. Every examiner, every test, every obstacle—he had already dissected them in
his mind hundreds of times. His quirk, a terrifyingly precise manipulation of matter,
wasn't just power; it was a tool of strategy. He could deconstruct and reconstruct
objects at will, but he kept this knowledge hidden. He didn't need to reveal the full
extent of his abilities just yet.
He watched as candidates around him tried to psych themselves up, shouting
encouragements or muttering desperate mantras. Some flexed muscles that would
mean nothing when the unexpected happened. Midoriya, however, smiled faintly. To
him, the chaos was predictable—like pieces on a chessboard, moving according to
rules most couldn't see.
Then he saw her. Momo Yaoyorozu, poised and composed, adjusting her gloves as she
readied herself for the trial. There was something in the calm intelligence of her gaze
that mirrored his own. No one else noticed the subtle tension in her posture, the tiny,
deliberate movements that betrayed a mind always calculating, always planning. A
silent understanding passed between them—a mutual recognition that in this world,
instinct alone would never be enough.
The exam began. A mechanical voice echoed through the stadium, outlining the
obstacles, the tasks, and the point system. Others bolted forward, charging recklessly
into the challenges. Some fell immediately, tripping over obstacles or panicking at the
first sign of resistance. Midoriya, however, waited, observing patterns, noting every
guard placement, every hidden pitfall. He didn't move until he had memorized the
terrain, predicting how the other students' movements would alter the course.
Then, with a controlled exhale, he acted. Using his quirk subtly, he shifted the material
beneath a platform just enough to create a clear path while leaving other candidates
distracted by the shifting terrain. It was elegant, silent, and utterly effective. Within
moments, he had reached the first checkpoint while others struggled behind him.
But it wasn't just about winning. Midoriya's mind ran ahead, considering what each
choice in this exam revealed—not about the exam itself, but about the society that
created it. Heroes were celebrated, revered, yet some used their status to manipulate,
to control, to hide their failures behind smiles and medals. He saw the darkness lurking
beneath every polished image, and he knew he could not trust the world blindly. Not yet.
When he reached the end of the obstacle course, Momo had also arrived, her face
calm, unreadable. Midoriya offered a small nod; she returned it. No words were needed.
Allies weren't a luxury here—they were a necessity. In that nod lay a promise: together,
they would navigate not just the exam, but the treacherous maze of hero society itself.
As the final bell rang, Midoriya glanced back at the chaos behind him. Many had failed,
many would go on to try again. But one thing was certain: the boy who had moved like a
shadow today was no ordinary student. U.A. thought they were witnessing a hopeful
hero in the making. They had no idea that the quiet, calculating Midoriya already
understood the true game—and he intended to play it on his own terms