บท 11: [11] Admissions and Omissions
I pulled out a notebook, one I kept separate from my hero analysis books. This one was for my eyes only. I flipped to a fresh page and began to write:
U.A. Sports Festival - Dominate, but strategically. Show strength, intelligence, and "heroic spirit."
Media Presence - Build relationships with journalists. Be quotable, memorable.
Internships - Aim for agency with HPSC connections. Fast-track to provisional license?
Academics - Top of class, especially in hero law and ethics. Crucial for early agency start.
Support Network - Cultivate relationships with support companies. Yaoyorozu family connections?
Create a Brand - "New Symbol of Peace"? Play to strengths, set self apart.
Legal Loopholes - Research potential for "junior agency" or "agency apprenticeship."
I sat back, reviewing my list. Ambitious, yes, but not impossible.
The night wore on as I worked, refining plans, analyzing data. By the time the first rays of sunlight began to peek through my curtains, I felt ready. Today was the day it all began for real.
I dressed carefully in my U.A. uniform, making sure every detail was perfect. The tie knotted just so, the jacket smooth and wrinkle-free. Image was everything, after all.
As I made my way to the common area, the smell of coffee and toast filled the air. Several of my classmates were already up, milling around nervously or scarfing down breakfast.
"Morning, Midoriya!" Uraraka called out cheerfully. "Ready for our first day?"
I smiled back. "You bet!"
Iida, ever the early riser, was lecturing anyone who would listen about the importance of punctuality. Todoroki sat alone in a corner, silently sipping tea. And Bakugo...
"Oi, Deku!"
I turned to see him stomping towards me, his perpetual scowl firmly in place. "Hey Kacchan," I replied smoothly. "I'm sure you'll give a lovely speech in front of the class."
His face reddened, small explosions popping in his palms. "Like hell I will!"
The walk to the main U.A. building was filled with excited chatter. My classmates speculated about what our first lesson would be, who our homeroom teacher was. I joined in occasionally, playing the part of the eager student while my mind raced ahead, plotting and planning.
As we filed into classroom 1-A, I took note of everyone's seating choices. Who grouped together, who sat alone. Every detail could be important later.
The room fell silent as the door slid open. A figure shuffled in, looking for all the world like a caterpillar in a yellow sleeping bag.
"It took you lot eight seconds to quiet down," the man grumbled as he emerged from his cocoon. "Life is short, kids. You're not being rational."
Aizawa Shota. Eraserhead. Our homeroom teacher, apparently. This... could complicate things. I'd done my research on the U.A. faculty, and Aizawa was known for his sharp mind and zero tolerance for nonsense.
"Right," Aizawa continued, his voice monotone. "Put these on and meet me outside. We're having a quirk assessment test."
Chaos erupted as he tossed a bundle of gym uniforms at us. Questions flew, protests were raised. I remained silent, observing.
This was unexpected, but not unmanageable. A quirk assessment test on the first day? Perfect opportunity to gather more data on my classmates' abilities.
The sun beat down on us as we gathered on the U.A. sports field. Aizawa stood before us, his expression as bored and disinterested as ever.
"Alright," he drawled. "We're going to be doing a series of physical tests to assess your quirks. Bakugo."
Katsuki perked up at the sound of his name.
"How far could you throw in high school?"
"77 meters," Bakugo replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
Aizawa nodded. "Great. Now do it with your quirk."
As Bakugo stepped up to the circle, I watched carefully. This was my chance to see how my classmates stacked up, to gauge their true potential.
The ball soared through the air, propelled by a massive explosion. When it finally landed, Aizawa held up a device. "755.2 meters."
Impressed murmurs rippled through the class. I kept my face neutral, but my mind was racing. 755.2 meters. Impressive.
"Alright," Aizawa said, his voice cutting through the chatter. "The rest of you, line up. We're doing this one at a time. Oh, and by the way," he added, his voice dripping with false casualness, "the person in last place will be judged to have no potential and will be expelled."
Panic rippled through the group. I kept my face carefully neutral, even as my mind raced. This had to be a bluff. U.A. wouldn't actually expel a student on the first day... would they?
As my classmates took their turns, I observed and analyzed. Uraraka's infinity score was unexpected but logical given her quirk. Iida's speed in the 50-meter dash was formidable. Yaoyorozu's versatility with her creation quirk could be a valuable asset - or a significant threat if not managed properly.
Finally, it was my turn for the ball throw. I stepped into the circle, feeling the eyes of my classmates on me. This was it. Time to show them just a glimpse of what I was capable of.
I channeled One For All, careful to keep it at around 5% - enough to be impressive, but not enough to raise too many eyebrows. The ball left my hand with a satisfying crack, soaring through the air.
"586.3 meters," Aizawa announced.
As the tests continued, I made sure to perform well, but not too well. Always near the top, but never so far ahead that it would draw undue attention. There really was no need to until the Sports Festival. By the time we finished, I was confident I'd struck the right balance.
As Aizawa revealed the rankings, I found myself in third place, behind Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. Acceptable.
Poor Mineta ended up in last place, his face a mask of terror as Aizawa approached him. But then, in a twist I half-expected, our teacher revealed it had all been a "logical ruse" to push us to our limits.
As we headed back to change, I caught snippets of conversation from my classmates. Relief, excitement, determination to do better next time.
Back in the classroom, Aizawa handed out our schedules and other necessary paperwork. As I looked over the coming weeks, my mind focused on one date: The U.A. Sports Festival.
The final bell rang, signaling the end of our first day. As we packed up our things, Uraraka approached me, Iida in tow.
"Hey, Midoriya!" Uraraka chirped. "Want to walk back to the dorms together?"
Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut through the classroom chatter.
"Oi, Deku!"
Bakugo stomped to the front of the room, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. The class fell silent, all eyes turning to watch the unfolding drama.
"Listen up, you extras!" Bakugo shouted, his voice strained. "I've got something to say, and I'm only gonna say it once!"
I tensed, hand slipping into my pocket to activate the recording device I'd installed in my phone. This should be interesting.
Bakugo took a deep breath, then yelled, "Deku is a better hero than me!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Bakugo stood there, chest heaving, face red with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. The rest of the class looked on in stunned disbelief.
I kept my face carefully neutral, even as satisfaction coursed through me. The recording would be a valuable bargaining chip in the future. More importantly, this public admission would reshape the class dynamics in ways I could exploit.
"Kacchan," I said, infusing my voice with just the right amount of surprise and humility. "I... I don't know what to say."
Bakugo's glare could have melted steel. "Don't say anything, you damn nerd. Just... just remember this doesn't change anything between us!"
As he stormed out of the classroom, the spell broke. Chatter erupted, everyone trying to make sense of what just happened.
Uraraka turned to me, eyes wide. "Deku, what was that about?"
I shrugged, playing innocent. "Just an old agreement between friends. It's not important."
As we left the classroom, I caught Aizawa watching me with those tired, calculating eyes of his. I met his gaze for a moment, then made my decision.
"Hey guys, go ahead without me, I have something to ask Aizawa-sensei."
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