Chapter 4: Rational Deception
The transition from the high-tension silence of Class 1-A to the locker rooms was a chaotic symphony of sliding metal doors and the rustle of fabric. The air in the male changing room was already thick with the scent of pressurized deodorant and the electric hum of adrenaline.
Sherlock stood before his locker, staring at the grey metal surface as if it were a puzzle he didn't want to solve. He moved with the heavy, deliberate lethargy of someone being led to a gallows. Slowly, he pulled on the UA gym uniform—the dark blue fabric with the bold white 'UA' lettering across the chest. It felt unnecessarily athletic, clinging to his frame in a way that made him feel exposed.
Tenya Iida, having already donned his uniform with surgical precision, stood at the center of the room. He adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the overhead fluorescent light with a sharp glint.
"Everyone! A moment of your attention, please!" Iida shouted, his hand chopping the air in a rigid, vertical motion.
Sherlock, who was currently struggling to untangle his hoodie from the gym shirt, paused and looked up with a sigh of resignation.
"I believe it is imperative that we recognize the gravity of the garments we are currently wearing!" Iida continued, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
"This is not merely 'athletic wear.' This is the UA Gym Uniform! It is a meticulously engineered piece of equipment designed to facilitate the growth of the next generation of Peacekeepers!"
He pointed a stiff finger at the white "UA" lettering across his chest.
"The fabric is a high-durability, moisture-wicking synthetic blend, capable of withstanding the immense thermal and kinetic stresses of our various Quirks! By donning this uniform, we are accepting a social contract! We are signaling to the instructors, to each other, and to ourselves that we have moved beyond the realm of 'students' and into the 'proving grounds' of heroism!"
"Man, it's just a track suit, Iida," Denki Kaminari chuckled, snapping the elastic waistband of his shorts.
"Negative, Kaminari-kun!" Iida's arm-chopping intensified. "It is the Canvas of Discipline! To wear it sloppily is to treat the profession of Heroism sloppily! We must wear it with pride, for it represents the standard of excellence that UA has maintained for decades! Let us move to the field with the dignity this blue polyester demands!"
Sherlock pulled his hoodie over the top of the uniform, effectively burying the "Canvas of Discipline" under a layer of oversized black cotton.
"Iida-kun is right," Momo Yaoyorozu said, stepping out from the curtained area with a poised nod. "The uniform is a symbol of our shared starting line. Today, we aren't defined by our family names or our past achievements, but by how we perform within these colors."
Sherlock caught her eye and gave a faint, tired smirk. "I'll settle for the uniform not giving me a rash, Momo. Let's just get this over with."
Sherlock reached into his school blazer and retrieved the Sheets Industries Mark-IV Deck Holster. He strapped the carbon-fiber casing to his right thigh, feeling the familiar haptic click as it locked into place.
Inside the primary bay sat exactly 52 reinforced cards,. In a secondary, larger compartment, he carried several A4-sized sheets of high-density cellulose paper, meant for larger constructs.
"Man, can you believe it?" Eijiro Kirishima shouted, slamming his locker shut. "Our first day and we're already heading to the field! This is exactly what I was hoping for!"
"It's certainly an efficient start," Tenya Iida replied, his movements as rigid as a programmed robot.
Denki Kaminari leaned against the locker next to Sherlock. "Hey, Sherlock! You're a recommendation student, right? You must be planning to blow everyone away."
Sherlock sat on a wooden bench, slowly lacing up his sneakers.
"I'm planning to survive, Kaminari," Sherlock said, his voice a flat drone. "The only thing I want to blow away is the clock so I can go back to sleep."
As the boys finished changing, Minoru Mineta began eyeing an air vent leading toward the girls' side.
Before he could even pluck a sphere from his head, Sherlock's hand blurred. A single card hissed through the air, pinning itself over the vent with the precision of a surgeon's needle.
"Don't," Sherlock muttered. "The paperwork for a harassment suit is three hundred pages long. I'm not writing it for you."
● The Reality of the Hero Course
The class gathered on the dirt field, the sun beating down with a harsh, unforgiving glare. Shota Aizawa stood before them, holding a digital tablet.
"In Japan, we use standardized physical tests that forbid the use of Quirks," Aizawa's voice was like grinding gravel.
"It's irrational. The Ministry of Education is simply procrastinating. They refuse to acknowledge that in the real world, your Quirks are your primary tools."
He turned his bloodshot eyes toward the group.
"Bakugo, you finished first in the entrance exam. In junior high, what was your best result for the soft-ball throw?"
"67 meters," Bakugo grunted.
"Then try doing it with your Quirk. As long as you stay in the circle, anything goes."
Bakugo stepped forward. He wound his arm back, and as he threw, a massive, orange explosion erupted from his palm.
"DIE!" he screamed.
[705.2 Meters]
"Whoa! Seven hundred meters?!" Kaminari laughed. "This looks like fun!"
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Aizawa's hair began to lift, floating upward. A dark, suffocating aura radiated from him.
"'Fun,' you say?" Aizawa's voice dropped an octave. "Fine. Let's make things interesting."
"The student who ranks last across all eight events will be judged as having 'zero potential' and will be expelled immediately."
Expulsion on the first day, Sherlock thought, his fingers fumbling with his laces. If that happens, Dad won't even wait for me to get home. He'll have the security codes to the mansion changed before I reach the front gate.
● The Eight Trials: Observations and Analysis
Test 1: 50-Meter Dash
Sherlock drew two cards. "Glaze: Kinetic Friction – Zero." He dropped them under his sneakers. He didn't run; he used a single, powerful kick to glide across the track. He was moving at forty miles per hour, sliding like a puck on ice.
[Result: 4.52 Seconds]
Sherlock Observed: Tenya Iida is a marvel of biological engineering. His mufflers reached peak temperature at the 30-meter mark. If he can manage his cooling cycles better, his acceleration curve would be vertical.
Test 2: Grip Strength
Sherlock wrapped a gold-rimmed strip of paper around the sensor. "Glaze: Structural Reinforcement – Max." As the paper constricted, the sensor groaned. However, Sherlock's own grip was weak; his fingers shook under the strain of maintaining the glaze.
[Result: 68kg]
Sherlock Observed: Mezo Shoji hit 540kg. His muscle density in those duplicated limbs is at least three times that of a standard human. He isn't just strong; he's structurally dense.
Test 3: Standing Long Jump
Sherlock performed a lightning-fast series of origami folds on a sheet of paper. In seconds, he had created a rigid, "Leaf Spring." He stepped on it, and the paper snapped back, vaulting him across the sandpit.
Sherlock Observation: Yuga Aoyama uses his navel laser for propulsion, but the recoil is clearly causing intestinal distress. It's a powerful Quirk with a high biological cost. Inefficient for long-term combat.
Test 4: Repeated Side Steps & Sit-ups
This was where Sherlock's ranking plummeted. He had no interest in physical exertion. He moved with the speed of a tired office worker, calculating the bare minimum needed to stay in the middle of the class. He was dead last in sit-ups, his core muscles practically non-existent.
Sherlock Observation: Minoru Mineta is surprisingly agile when his motivations are... questionable. Momo Yaoyorozu, however, is performing with textbook perfect form. She isn't just using her Quirk; she's mastered the discipline of her own body.
The 969-Meter Throw
The class watched as Izuku Midoriya threw the ball, focusing all his power into a single fingertip. The air cracked.
[705.3 Meters]
Observation: Something is wrong with Midoriya. The energy displacement wasn't localized—it leaked. It looked like a dam bursting rather than a faucet turning on. If he can't contain that, he'll be a hero for exactly five minutes before he's a permanent hospital patient.
"Next up. Sheets," Aizawa called out.
Sherlock walked into the circle. He felt the eyes of the entire class on him. He reached into his pouch and drew a long, five-foot ribbon of blue-and-gold paper.
"Glaze: Kinetic Storage."
He began to spin the ball, the paper ribbon acting as a high-tension centrifugal sling.
Calculated exit velocity for a 700m throw: 82 meters per second. But I need to prove I'm not a 'weed' to be pulled.
He spun faster. The paper began to glow a neon blue, humming with the sound of a jet turbine. With a sharp snap of his wrist, Sherlock released the tension. The ball launched like it had been shot from an electromagnetic railgun. It broke the sound barrier with a sharp BOOM, leaving a streak of white paper-dust in the air.
[Result: 969 Meters]
The class went silent.
Sherlock stepped out of the circle, his face pale and his hands shaking. The paper ribbon turned to ash.
"Efficiency," he muttered, though he felt like he was going to vomit from the mental strain.
Results
Aizawa displayed the rankings on a hologram.
Student With the Top 3 Rank were
1 Youzourou Momo
2. Todoraki Shoto
3. Bakugi katsuki
.
.
.
Sheet Sherlock
The last rank Student was
Midoriya Izuku
"The expulsion was a 'rational falsehood,'" Aizawa announced.
"It was a lie to draw out your maximum potential."
"WHAT?!" the class screamed.
Sherlock look at Midoriya, Who was Sobbing in relief. U.A. IS SCARY.
● The Aftermath
Momo stood at the top of the list, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face, but she quickly turned her attention to Sherlock. She noticed he was staring at his Rank 9 placement with a look of genuine relief, not disappointment.
As the students began to head back to the locker rooms, Aizawa stood alone for a moment, watching Sherlock's retreating back. He spoke aloud to the other faculty or perhaps just to the wind.
"That boy, Sheets... he was holding back through most of those tests," Aizawa muttered. "His quirk is purely technical. In a real fight, he'd be useless. One good punch and he's down. He's pretty weak in actual combat—he has no fighting spirit."
Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his mind flashing back to the 969-meter throw and the way Sherlock had calculated the friction-less dash.
But that level of control... Aizawa thought to himself. The precision, the mental processing speed... if he actually tried, if he actually cared about being a hero instead of just surviving... he has the potential to be the best in this class. Maybe the best in the school. But for now, he's just a brilliant child hiding in the shadows.
Momo caught up to Sherlock in the corridor. She was beaming from her first-place finish, but her eyes were sharp as they landed on him.
Momo caught up to him, her expression soft.
"Congratulations on Rank 9, Sherlock. You managed to stay right in the middle, didn't you?"
"Middle of the pack is where the grass is safest, Momo," Sherlock replied, his eyes finally closing for a brief, standing micro-nap.
"Now, please... tell me the next class involves sitting down."
Sherlock leaned against the cool concrete wall, his eyes half-closed.
"The middle is the blind spot of the world, Momo. Nobody notices the person in 10th place. They only look at the top and the bottom. You're at the top, which means from tomorrow, everyone will be trying to figure out how to beat you."
Momo frowned, her competitive spirit clashing with her concern for her friend.
"But that throw... 969 meters. You could have been Number One if you'd just tried on the endurance run or the sit-ups. You have the highest raw distance of anyone who didn't use a 'cheat' like Uraraka-san."
"Distance is just math, Momo," Sherlock replied tiredly. "Endurance is pain. I don't like pain. Besides, if I were Number One, my father would have my face on a billboard by Friday. 'Sheets Industries: Engineering the World's Greatest Hero.' I'd rather be a ghost than a mascot."
Momo looked at him, realizing the depth of the cage he lived in.
"You can't hide forever, Sherlock. Aizawa-sensei isn't stupid. He knows you're holding back."
"Then let him watch," Sherlock said, pushing off the wall. "As long as he doesn't make me do more sit-ups, he can think whatever he likes."
Bakugo shouldered past them, his eyes burning.
"Nice throw, Paper-Boy. But in a fight, you don't get five minutes to prep a ribbon. I'll kill you before you even draw a card."
Sherlock didn't look up.
"I Don' look forward to it Bakugo-san. I might just Sleep."
Sherlock Told to , Momo,", his eyes finally closing for a brief, standing micro-nap.
"Now, please... tell the next class involves sitting down."