The lights dropped.
Complete darkness swallowed the auditorium for exactly three seconds. Long enough for every nervous teenager to collectively hold their breath. Short enough to keep the tension from breaking into panic.
Then a single spotlight exploded onto the stage with the force of a meteorite impact.
Standing dead center, one leg up on a speaker, leather jacket catching the light like armor, sunglasses reflecting the crowd's stunned faces, was a man who looked like a rock concert had somehow gained consciousness and decided to become a teacher.
His blond hair defied gravity, physics, and probably several international laws.
"HEEEEEEY, LITTLE LISTENERS!"
The voice hit like a sonic boom.
Half the auditorium flinched. Several students clapped hands over their ears. The girl with flowers in her hair actually ducked like she was under sniper fire.
"CAN I GET A 'YEAH'?!"
Silence.
Then a few scattered, uncertain "yeahs" trickled out from the braver souls in the crowd.
Present Mic grinned wider.
"THAT'S WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR! SORT OF! WE'LL WORK ON IT!"
The Voice Hero: Present Mic. Real name Hizashi Yamada. Quirk: Voice. Capable of outputting sound at volumes that can shatter concrete if he really commits to the bit.
Using him for orientation? Classic intimidation tactic. Remind all these baby heroes that the gap between "I got into U.A." and "I'm actually good at this" is roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. Subtle. Effective. Honestly kind of genius.
Present Mic swept an arm toward the massive screen behind him.
"ALRIGHT, FUTURE HEROES! LET'S TALK SHOP! YOU'VE SURVIVED THE WRITTEN EXAM! CONGRATULATIONS! THAT MEANS YOU'RE EITHER REALLY SMART OR REALLY GOOD AT GUESSING! EITHER WAY, I RESPECT THE HUSTLE!"
A few nervous laughs rippled through the crowd.
"NOW COMES THE FUN PART! THE PRACTICAL EXAM!"
The screen lit up. A 3D rendering of a mock city appeared, complete with buildings, streets, and ominous robot silhouettes lurking in the shadows.
"YOU'LL BE SENT INTO A REPLICA URBAN COMBAT ZONE! YOUR JOB? RACK UP POINTS BY DESTROYING VILLAIN BOTS!"
Three robot designs materialized on the screen.
"ONE-POINTERS! EASY! SLOW! BASICALLY WALKING PINATAS!"
A small, boxy robot with stubby legs.
"TWO-POINTERS! FASTER! MEANER! STILL TOTALLY BEATABLE!"
A sleeker model with wheels.
"THREE-POINTERS! THESE BABIES ACTUALLY FIGHT BACK! WATCH YOUR SIX!"
A hulking machine with arm cannons.
"YOU'VE GOT FIFTEEN MINUTES TO SCORE AS HIGH AS POSSIBLE! THE TOP PERFORMERS GET THOSE SWEET, SWEET ACCEPTANCE LETTERS! ANY QUESTIONS?!"
Next to Izuku, Bakugo leaned over.
His voice was a hiss. Low. Venomous. The kind of sound a viper makes right before it strikes.
"Don't think this means shit, Deku."
Izuku kept his eyes on the stage.
Didn't acknowledge him at all.
"All that garbage-hauling? Won't help you when you're up against real metal. You'll choke. You always choke."
Oh good. He's still talking. I was worried he'd matured in the last three hours.
"Are you still sore about the Aldera fitness test, Kacchan? I thought you'd be used to second place by now. It's a good color on you."
Bakugo's hands started smoking under the desk.
The acrid smell of nitroglycerin sweat filled the immediate area. A girl in the row ahead wrinkled her nose and scooted her chair forward.
"You got lucky, you Quirkless bastard," Bakugo spat. "You don't have the firepower for this. You'll get crushed."
Izuku finally turned his head.
Just slightly.
Just enough for Bakugo to see the lazy, condescending smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You have a very powerful Quirk, Katsuki."
Pause.
"You should. It's the only thing you've got."
Bakugo opened his mouth. Probably to scream. Possibly to commit actual violence in a room full of witnesses.
But before he could detonate, a hand shot into the air three rows down.
A tall, broad-shouldered student with rectangular glasses and engine exhausts jutting from his calves stood up.
Ramrod straight.
Chest out.
Looking like he'd just personally caught someone committing tax fraud.
"EXCUSE ME!"
His voice cut through the auditorium like a klaxon.
Present Mic paused mid-sentence.
"Oh! Yeah, shoot, my dude!"
The student adjusted his glasses with a sharp chop of his hand.
"On the printout, there are clearly FOUR types of villains listed! If this is a misprint, it is a GREAT SHAME upon this esteemed institution! U.A. should be held to a HIGHER STANDARD than such careless errors!"
Oh no. It's a hall monitor. In the wild. I thought these went extinct after middle school.
Then the guy pivoted.
His arm extended like a robotic limb, finger pointed directly at Izuku and Bakugo with the accusatory energy of a prosecutor delivering closing arguments.
"And YOU TWO!"
Izuku blinked.
Bakugo's eye twitched.
"You have been WHISPERING and DISTRACTING everyone for this ENTIRE ORIENTATION! If you are not here to take this seriously, then you should LEAVE IMMEDIATELY and make room for students who ACTUALLY CARE about their future!"
The auditorium went silent.
You could have heard a pin drop.
You could have heard a mouse sneeze.
Izuku and Bakugo locked eyes.
Just for a fraction of a second.
It wasn't a moment of camaraderie. It wasn't a truce.
It was the look two apex predators share when a particularly loud herbivore wanders into their territory and starts making noise.
A mutual understanding.
This guy is annoying.
Then they turned on him.
In perfect, terrifying synchronization.
Izuku didn't stand. Didn't raise his voice. Just leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, head tilted like he was explaining basic addition to a toddler.
"The big one on the right side of the screen. It's designed as a situational hazard to test risk assessment, crowd control, and whether you're smart enough not to waste time fighting something that gives you nothing. They explain it on the last page of the pamphlet. Perhaps you should finish reading before you start grandstanding."
The guy's jaw dropped.
Bakugo didn't even look at him.
Just scoffed, loud and dismissive.
"Shut the fuck up and sit down, Four-Eyes. The adults are talking."
The tall student stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish drowning in air, completely and utterly dismantled.
He sat down.
Hard.
His face was red enough to power a stoplight.
On stage, Present Mic coughed into his fist.
It sounded suspiciously like he was hiding a laugh.
"YEAH! UH! THANKS FOR THAT, EXAMINEE... 7111, IS IT? GREAT OBSERVATION SKILLS! YOUR CLASSMATE THERE IS CORRECT! THE ZERO-POINTER IS INDEED AN OBSTACLE! IT'S BIG! IT'S SCARY! IT'S WORTH ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! AVOID IT UNLESS YOU WANNA PLAY HERO AND WASTE YOUR TIME!"
The screen shifted.
The fourth robot appeared.
It was massive.
"THIS BAD BOY SHOWS UP TO SHAKE THINGS UP! THINK OF IT LIKE A NATURAL DISASTER! YOU DON'T FIGHT A TORNADO, LISTENERS! YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY AND LET IT DO ITS THING!"
Mic clapped his hands together.
"ALRIGHT! THAT'S ALL THE BORING STUFF! CHECK YOUR TICKETS FOR YOUR BATTLE CENTER ASSIGNMENTS! DIFFERENT ZONES FOR DIFFERENT EXAMINEES SO NOBODY'S FIGHTING THEIR BESTIE! FAIR AND SQUARE!"
The main screen lit up.
A list of names and battle center assignments scrolled past.
Izuku scanned the list.
Found his name.
Midoriya, Izuku - Battle Center B
He glanced at Bakugo's ticket, visible just barely from the corner of his eye.
Bakugo, Katsuki - Battle Center A
Their eyes met one last time.
I'm getting a higher score than you.
Like hell you are.
Present Mic spread his arms wide, his grin infectious, his energy cranked to eleven.
"ALRIGHT, FUTURE HEROES! GET OUT THERE! SHOW THE WORLD WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF! AND REMEMBER!"
He threw his fist into the air.
The entire auditorium shook with the force of his voice.
"GO BEYOND! PLUS ULTRAAAAA!!!"
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A/N: Thanks for the 100k views and Happy New Years! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please donate powerstones and leave a review if you haven't already