The shadow of the Zero-Pointer wasn't just dark; it felt physical, like a shroud being lowered over the street.
"Stay down!" I barked at the girl. My voice was raspy, stripped of its usual sarcastic edge.
She didn't answer. She couldn't. She was paralyzed, her eyes blown wide as she stared at the wall of metal descending toward us. I didn't have much Cursed Energy left. The "battery" in my gut was flashing red, and the cold, oily current was thinning out. But looking at her pinned there, my humor died a quick death. I felt a surge of sharp, cold annoyance—not just at the robot, but at the situation.
That annoyance was the fuel I needed.
I planted my feet, knees slightly bent, and reached both hands upward toward the mountain of steel.
'Everything has a vector,' I thought, my brain screaming in protest as I forced my Cursed Energy to circulate at triple the normal speed. 'The Earth pulls down. The robot pushes down. I just have to tell the world... No.'
"Anti-Gravity System: Maximum Output!" I growled.
The air around me didn't just vibrate; it shrieked. A blue-white hum of energy surged from my palms, expanding into a massive dome that covered the entire width of the street.
THOOM.
The Zero-Pointer's foot hit the invisible ceiling of my field.
The girl let out a choked gasp, shielding her eyes from the sparks flying off the robot's grinding joints. For a second, the world went silent. The massive machine didn't stop moving—its engines were still roaring, its gears grinding with enough force to level a city block—but the foot stayed suspended five feet above my head.
"Ugh... a-ack!"
A massive weight settled onto my shoulders. Even though I was negating the gravity of the robot, the momentum of its descent was still there. I felt my sneakers crack the pavement beneath me. My vision went red. Blood began to flow freely from both nostrils, and a warm trickle started from my right ear. I wasn't just floating the foot; I was expanding the Anti-Gravity System through the entire leg, trying to make a thousand-ton god of metal weightless all at once.
'Push! Push more!' The reservoir in my gut didn't just empty—it tore. I felt a "pop" in my chest, and the hum of the technique intensified, turning into a blinding flash.
The Zero-Pointer's foot began to drift upward.
The massive machine, losing the weight required for its treads to grip the earth, began to tilt. It looked like a slow-motion video of a sinking ship. With its weight gone, the momentum of its own internal gyroscopes caused it to wobble uncontrollably.
"Go!" I wheezed, not even looking at the girl. "Get out of here!"
She didn't need a second invitation. She scrambled out from under the billboard, limping desperately toward the safe zone. She didn't look back to thank me; she just ran for her life, which was honestly the most sensible thing she'd done all day.
I held the field for five more seconds.
I let go.
The Anti-Gravity System snapped shut. Gravity returned to Center C with the fury of a vengeful god.
CRASH!!!!!!!!
The Zero-Pointer, already tilted and off-balance, slammed into the pavement. It crumpled, its massive frame folding under its own returning weight. A cloud of dust and debris three stories high billowed through the streets.
I didn't watch the ending. The second I released the technique, my legs turned into cooked noodles. I fell backward, my head hitting the cracked asphalt with a dull thud. I looked up at the blue sky, my chest heaving, my body feeling like it had been put through a meat grinder.
The last thing I heard before passing out was the chime of the buzzer.
Deep within the U.A. faculty tower, the room was dark, lit only by the glow of dozens of monitors.
"A promising year," the Principal, Nezu, chirped while sipping tea. "Wouldn't you agree, Eraserhead?"
Shota Aizawa didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on two screens in the center of the wall—Screen A and Screen C.
"The Uraraka twins," Aizawa said, his voice low. "Their files say they have the same Quirk. Zero Gravity. But the data doesn't match the footage."
On Screen A, Ochaco Uraraka was performing efficiently. She was touch-releasing robots, moving with a certain grace, and helping other students. She was a textbook hero candidate.
Then there was Screen C.
The teachers watched the playback of Kanata Uraraka. They saw him 'skating' through the city with his hands in his pockets. They saw the bored expression on his face as he caused robots to flip and shatter. And then, they saw the Zero-Pointer incident.
"Look at the output," Present Mic whispered, leaning in. "The girl in Center A... she has a weight limit. If she pushes too hard, she gets sick. But this kid in Center C? He didn't just make the Zero-Pointer float. He negated its entire mass while it was in motion."
"And look at his vitals," Recovery Girl added, pointing to a red-lining graph on a side monitor. "That's not just Quirk exhaustion. His nervous system was under an immense amount of stress. He was forcing that energy out through sheer willpower."
All Might, sitting in the corner, focused on the moment Kanata stood over the trapped girl. "He didn't hesitate. He knew he was at his limit, yet he stepped directly under the foot of a giant to buy time for a stranger. That's the essence of a hero."
"Is it?" Aizawa countered, narrowing his eyes. "Look at his face during the fight. He isn't smiling like you, All Might. He looks... annoyed. Like the robot was an inconvenience. And the way his power manifests—it's violent. It's not 'Zero Gravity.' It's a total denial of physical laws in a localized area."
Nezu set his tea down with a soft clack. "His file says 'Gravity Zone,' but I suspect there is more to it. He doesn't use his hands like his sister. He projects it. He is much more dangerous than he looks."
"He got 48 Villain points," Midnight noted. "But his Rescue points?"
Nezu smiled, his beady eyes reflecting the screen where Kanata lay unconscious in the dust. "For stopping a Zero-Pointer from crushing an examinee? I think sixty points is a fair assessment. That puts him at the top of the leaderboard, right next to that Bakugo boy."
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Great. Another 'problem child' with an attitude and a nosebleed. Just what my class needs."
"He has a good sense of humor, at least," Nezu laughed. "I look forward to seeing how he handles your curriculum, Aizawa."