Chapter 3: The Motion Sickness and the Massive Gate.
The day of the U.A. High School Entrance Exam dawned with a vibrancy. The sky was a piercing, cloudless blue, and the morning sun bathed the streets of Musutafu in a brilliant, optimistic light.
On the sidewalks, the world moved with its usual rhythmic chaos. Salarymen rushed toward subway stations with briefcases clutched tight, shopkeepers swept the dust from their storefronts, and cars honked in the gridlocked traffic. However, amidst the daily grind, there was a specific current of energy—a stream of teenagers, all heading in the same direction, their faces masks of determination, anxiety, and hope.
A public bus rumbled down the main avenue, its engine humming a low, steady drone. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly quiet.
The bus was packed with middle school students from various districts. Most of them were buried in their notes, frantically reviewing English vocabulary or history dates for the written portion of the exam. Others stared blankly at their smartphones, listening to music to calm their racing hearts. They were all rivals today, and the air was thick with competitive silence.
But then, a sound broke the heavy quiet.
"Urgh…"
In the back row, seated by the window, was a girl who looked ready for anything—except perhaps the boy sitting next to her. She had a slender build, deep purple hair cut in an asymmetric bob with bangs hanging over her forehead, and unique earlobes that extended into long, headphone-like jacks. Her eyes, framed by distinct, somewhat jaded lower lashes, twitched in annoyance.
Kyoka Jiro tried to focus on the road ahead, her bag resting on her left side. But the noise came again, closer and wetter this time.
"Hup… guuuugh…"
She slowly turned her head to the right.
Sitting next to her was Natsu Dragneel. He was wearing casual civilian clothes—a simple white t-shirt that hinted at a muscular build and loose grey trousers. Around his neck, despite the warm spring weather, was a thick, scale-patterned white scarf.
But he didn't look like a hero hopeful. He looked like a corpse.
Natsu's head lolled helplessly from side to side with every vibration of the bus. His usually healthy complexion had turned a sickly shade of green, his cheeks were puffed out as if holding back a flood, and his onyx eyes had rolled back, losing all focus. He looked as if his soul was trying to leave his body through his mouth.
The driver applied the brakes lightly.
"GURP!" Natsu clamped a hand over his mouth, his whole body convulsing.
Jiro flinched so hard she nearly jumped out of her seat. She immediately shoved her bag between them like a shield, pressing her back against the window.
"Hey!" she hissed, her voice low but panicked. "Pull yourself together! You just got on the bus five minutes ago! How are you this motion sick already?"
Natsu turned to her, his face a portrait of pure misery. He tried to speak, but it came out as a strained croak.
"I... s-sorry..."
"Don't open your mouth!" Jiro whispered aggressively, her eyes widening in horror. "Seriously, what kind of luck is this? If you throw up on me before the exam, I will end you."
Natsu simply nodded weakly, squeezing his eyes shut as the bus turned a corner. "Uuuuggghhh…"
The rest of the ride was a torture session for Jiro. Every time the brakes squeaked or the engine revved, Natsu made a sound that suggested imminent disaster. Jiro's earphone jacks trembled with anxiety, and she spent the entire trip leaning as far away from him as physics allowed.
Finally, with a hiss of hydraulics, the bus pulled up to the station near the U.A. campus.
The doors opened. Students flooded out, eager to start their day.
Natsu was the last one to stumble off the vehicle. He practically fell onto the sidewalk, his legs wobbling like jelly. But the moment—the very second—his feet hit solid, non-moving ground and the fresh breeze hit his face, a miracle occurred.
The green hue vanished from his skin. The nausea evaporated.
Natsu stood up straight, inhaling a massive lungful of air. He looked up, his black eyes widening as they took in the view.
Before him stood the glass-and-concrete fortress that was U.A. High School. The main building was shaped like a massive 'H', gleaming in the sunlight, towering over everything else in the city. It was intimidating, grand, and radiated an aura of prestige.
The wind picked up, ruffling his spiky pink hair and making his scarf dance behind him. A wide, toothy grin spread across his face.
"Awesome..." Natsu breathed out. "This is U.A.?! It's huge!!"
He was no longer the scrawny kid. Another years had passed, and Natsu had grown. He was now a teenager with broad shoulders and a confident stance, his presence demanding attention.
"Are you... alive?"
A somewhat stern, dry voice came from his side.
Natsu turned to see Jiro standing a few feet away. The wind whipped her purple hair across her face, and her earphone jacks swayed gently. She was adjusting the strap of her bag, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
"Oh!" Natsu rubbed the back of his neck, laughing brightly. "Yeah! I'm totally fine now. Sorry for freaking you out on the bus, haha!"
Jiro stared at him. The transformation from 'dying invalid' to 'energetic shonen protagonist' was jarring.
"Right..." she drawled, turning away to walk toward the gate. "Don't worry about it. Just... I would have been really mad if you actually puked."
Natsu watched her walk away, his head tilting to the side. "Wires..." he muttered to himself, fascinated. "She has wires coming out of her ears. Cool."
He shook his head and joined the stream of students heading for the entrance.
Inside the main reception hall, the process was efficient. Natsu approached the counter and handed his ID to the receptionist.
"Natsu Dragneel," the staff member read, checking a computer screen. "Okay. Your written exam is in Hall 17. Your practical exam will be in Battle Center B."
The receptionist handed the ID back, along with an exam ticket. "Go to the boys' locker room first. Leave your bag there. You are not allowed to bring personal belongings into the exam hall. Here is your locker key."
"Got it! Thanks!"
Natsu followed the instructions, stashing his bag in a locker before heading to Hall 17. He walked in, finding a seat among rows of nervous faces he didn't recognize. The room was silent, the tension palpable.
At the front of the room stood two Pro Heroes serving as proctors.
One was a large, blocky man made of cement—Cementoss. The other was a woman with long, spiky dark purple hair and a domino mask—Midnight. She was scanning the room with sharp blue eyes.
"Alright, listeners," Cementoss rumbled. "Papers are face down. The questions are simple so do your best."
"You have two hours," Midnight added, checking the clock on the wall. "Five subjects. English, Math, Science, Japanese Literature, and History. Begin."
The sound of tens of pages flipping over echoed through the hall.
Natsu flipped his paper. He looked at the first question in English. Then he looked at the Math section.
His eyes bulged.
"WHERE IS THE SIMPLICITY IN THIS?!" Natsu shouted, grabbing his hair with both hands.
The silence of the exam hall shattered. Dozens of students turned to look at him, and a wave of snickers and stifled laughter rippled through the room.
"Silence!" Midnight's voice cracked like a whip. She glared at Natsu. "Sit down and be quiet. Let your peers focus."
Natsu sank into his chair, grumbling. "Hmm..."
He picked up his pencil. He stared at the paper.
Question 1: Analyze the impact of Quirk legislation on the pre-modern economic structure...
Natsu's brain short-circuited. He scratched his head. He looked at the next question.
Find X where the quadratic equation...
He managed to answer maybe two questions that seemed like common sense. But as the minutes ticked by, the words on the page began to swim. The white noise of pencils scratching on paper became a lullaby.
His eyelids grew heavy. He fought it for a moment, his head bobbing up and down.
Just... a little... nap...
THUD.
Natsu's forehead slammed onto the desk. Within seconds, a rhythmic, deep snoring sound began to emanate from his seat, vibrating the table.
At the front of the room, Midnight pinched the bridge of her nose, a vein throbbing in her temple. She exchanged a look with Cementoss, who just shrugged.
"Is he actually here to pass?" she muttered.
Two hours later, the bell rang.
"Pencils down! Pass your papers to the front!"
Natsu woke up with a start, wiping a string of drool from his cheek. He handed his mostly blank paper to the student in front of him.
As the students filed out, Midnight stood by the door. She stopped Natsu as he tried to walk past.
"You barely answered two questions per subject," she said, holding up his answer sheet with two fingers as if it were contaminated. Her eyes were critical. "Failure is almost a certainty with a performance like this. Why did you even tire yourself out coming here?"
Natsu blinked, then grinned. It wasn't a smile of arrogance, but of pure, unshakeable optimism.
"We still have the practical exam, right?" he asked, looking her in the eye.
Midnight paused. "Yes. But..."
"Then I should be fine!" Natsu laughed. "I just have to crush it there!"
He walked past her, humming a tune.
Midnight watched him go, lowering the paper. Her expression was skeptical. "He wants to rely entirely on the practical to bridge this massive gap? He would need a record-breaking score to even be considered..."
After a briefing in the auditorium—where a loud hero with blonde hair yelled a lot about robots and points—Natsu found himself back in the locker room.
The room was buzzing with noise.
"Man, the English section was tough."
"I think I did okay on History."
"I'm nervous about the robots..."
Natsu opened his locker. He stripped off his clothes and changed into an orange tracksuit jacket, and matching orange track pants that allowed for maximum movement. He tied his white sneakers tight.
And, of course, he re-wrapped Igneel's white scarf around his neck. It was the most important part of his outfit.
"Alright!" Natsu slammed the locker shut. "Time to go!"
He ran out of the changing room... and immediately realized he had no idea where 'Battle Center B' was.
"Uhh..." He looked left. He looked right. The campus was a maze.
He spotted a security guard. "Hey! Mister! Which way to the robots of Zone B?!"
The guard sighed and pointed down a long path. "Follow the blue signs, kid."
Natsu sprinted off. After a few minutes of running, he arrived at a massive, towering gate marked with a giant letter B.
A crowd of students had already gathered there. They were stretching, and psyching themselves up.
Standing beside the gate was a man who looked like he desperately needed a nap. He had long, messy black hair, tired eyes with dark circles underneath, and wore a capture scarf around his neck. He held a clipboard and looked down at the students with zero enthusiasm.
It was Shota Aizawa—Eraser Head.
Natsu walked up to the checkpoint.
"ID," Aizawa deadpanned.
Natsu handed it over.
"Natsu Dragneel," Aizawa read, his eyes flicking from the card to Natsu. He checked a list, marked 'Present', and handed the card back. The section for 'Score' was blank, waiting to be filled.
Natsu joined the back of the crowd. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his energy returning in full force now that the boring written test was over.
Suddenly, the massive metal gates began to creak open. There was no buzzer, no starting gun.
Then Aizawa addressed the examinees.
"Right, you have ten minutes," He announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Run. Fight like the fate of the world depends on this ten-minute skirmish. The seats in the Hero Course are limited, and no one here is guaranteed a spot. So fight with everything you have."
The students hesitated for a split second, processing the sudden start.
But Natsu didn't hesitate.
He reached up, his hand gripping the rough, warm fabric of the dragon-scale scarf. He felt the heat rising in his belly—the fire that Igneel had told him to master.
A fierce, predatory grin split his face.
"I'm fired up!" Natsu shouted.
"GO!" Aizawa commanded.
.
.
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