Chapter 10: The Threshold of Jurisdiction
The towering, reinforced doors of Class 1-A were more than just an architectural choice to Hiromi Higuruma; they were the heavy, mahogany gates of a new legal theater. As he approached, the rhythmic, metallic click of his polished oxfords against the sterile linoleum floor echoed with a weight that seemed to suck the ambient chatter out of the hallway. Most students ran or shuffled toward their new lives; Hiromi marched with the deliberate, measured pace of a high-ranking prosecutor entering a sentencing hearing.
Beside him, Momo Yaoyorozu walked in a synchronized, silent grace. Her transformation over the summer months had been profound. The nervous, sheltered heiress had been replaced by a woman who moved with the sharp awareness of a high-level associate. Her eyes remained fixed forward, yet her entire being was tuned to the boy beside her. To the other students catching a glimpse of them, they were the "Recommended Pair"—the untouchable elite. To Hiromi, they were the founding partners of a new administrative order that would eventually audit this entire world.
Hiromi reached for the handle. He didn't hesitate. He slid the door open with a single, controlled motion that was neither aggressive nor timid. It was a statement of arrival.
The interior was a chaotic soup of adolescent energy and unrefined power. A tall boy with engines protruding from his calves was frantically gesticulating at a blonde student whose feet were planted firmly on a desk. A girl with skin the color of cherry blossoms was laughing with a boy whose red hair defied the very laws of gravity. But the moment Hiromi stepped into the frame, the room's temperature seemed to plummet by several degrees.
It wasn't a Quirk effect. It was the Presence—the "black ink" of Cursed Energy that Hiromi kept tightly coiled within his marrow, radiating an aura of absolute, immovable authority. His gaze swept the room, not looking for friends, but cataloging potential liabilities.
"Feet off the desk," Hiromi said. His voice wasn't raised, yet it carried the resonant, vibrating finality of a gavel striking a block.
Katsuki Bakugo, the blonde student, narrowed his crimson eyes, a spark of volatile nitroglycerin-sweat popping in his palm. "Hah? Who the hell do you think you're talking to, suit-bag?"
"Article 12, Section 4 of the U.A. Student Handbook," Hiromi interrupted, his dark, weary eyes locking onto Bakugo's with an intensity that felt like a physical pressure against the blonde's chest. "Destruction of school property and a lack of basic decorum are grounds for immediate disciplinary review. You are a student in a prestigious institution of law and order, not a delinquent in a municipal holding cell. Sit properly, or I shall be forced to file a formal complaint before the first bell even rings."
Bakugo's palms sparked more violently, his pride bristling, but for a split second, he felt a phantom chill down his spine. He didn't see a teenager in a school uniform; he saw a silhouette of a man who looked like he had presided over a thousand life sentences. With a click of his tongue and a low, murderous growl, Bakugo dropped his feet. "Whatever. Don't think your fancy words mean a damn thing once we start fighting."
The Eraser's Assessment
"If you're here to play at being a judge and making friends, you're wasting your time. This is the Hero Course."
A yellow, caterpillar-like sleeping bag lay on the floor near the podium. From it emerged a man who looked like the physical embodiment of a cold case. Shota Aizawa, the homeroom teacher, stood up, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes bloodshot with a fatigue Hiromi recognized instantly. It was the exhaustion of a man who worked in the lightless cracks of the law, where the truth was often ugly.
Hiromi didn't flinch. He respected the efficiency of the man's entrance.
"I'm Shota Aizawa. Your homeroom teacher," the man rasped, pulling a set of blue-and-white gym uniforms from the depths of his sleeping bag. "Put these on and head to the grounds immediately. We're having a Quirk Apprehension Test. And keep in mind... the student who ranks last across all events will be judged as having 'No Potential' and will be expelled on the spot."
The class erupted in a wave of panicked whispers and indignant protests, but Hiromi simply adjusted his sleeves. "Expulsion as a motivational contract," he thought, his lawyer's brain dissecting the move. "A high-risk pedagogical strategy, but efficient for weeding out those who treat heroism as a hobby rather than a liability."
The Apprehension Test: Physicality over Flash
On the training grounds, the air was thick with desperation. Hiromi stood at the back of the group, a silent observer. He watched Bakugo blast himself forward like a human missile and Iida's engines roar with mechanical precision. He watched Izuku Midoriya, the boy who radiated an almost sickly level of anxiety, looking as though his very soul might shatter under the pressure.
When it was Hiromi's turn for the 50-meter dash, the class expected a flashy display. Instead, he simply stepped onto the starting line and closed his eyes. He focused on the "flow" he had mastered in the basement of his estate under Master Sato. He flooded his hamstrings, glutes, and calves with Cursed Energy, reinforcing his bone density to handle the explosive output that would follow.
"Reinforcement: Lawman's Gait."
At the sound of the starting pistol, Hiromi didn't run; he launched. There was no smoke, no fire, and no sound other than a sharp, whip-like crack of the pavement as he displaced the air. He moved with a silent, sliding motion—an optical illusion of speed that made him appear as a blur of grey and blue.
3.02 Seconds.
Aizawa looked at his stopwatch, then at Hiromi, his eyes narrowing. "No engine, no boosters, no visible kinetic Quirk. Just pure, reinforced physiological output. Your body density is... abnormal, Higuruma."
"True utility is found in the essence of the vessel, Sensei," Hiromi replied, his breathing perfectly rhythmic, as if he hadn't moved at all. "Not in the flashy ornaments or external modifications attached to it. A strong foundation supports the weight of the law."
The Ball Throw: The Verdict of Force
The final and most anticipated test was the ball throw. Bakugo had already set an aggressive bar, using a massive, concentrated explosion to reach 705 meters. Midoriya had followed with a display of raw, self-destructive power, shattering his finger to achieve a similar result—a move Hiromi mentally filed under 'Gross Negligence of the Vessel.'
Hiromi stepped into the circle. He picked up the ball, feeling its meager weight. He didn't look at the sky with hope; he looked at the horizon with calculation. He wasn't throwing a ball; he was delivering a summons to the sky itself.
He didn't scream. He didn't grunt. He pulled his arm back, his Cursed Energy darkening his skin slightly, turning his forearm the color of bruised iron as he concentrated his energy into a single, microscopic point at his fingertips.
"Divergent Strike: Maximum Release."
He threw.
The ball left his hand with a sound like a high-caliber gunshot. The initial impact of his raw physical strength was followed a microsecond later by the delayed explosion of Cursed Energy—the "double hit" that defied the laws of physics. The ball didn't just fly; it sang, a high-pitched whistle tearing through the air until it was a mere speck in the troposphere.
810.2 Meters.
The class fell into a stunned, heavy silence.
"He beat Bakugo... without an explosion? Is his Quirk just 'Super Strength'?" Kaminari whispered, his jaw hanging open.
"It's not just strength," Momo said, her voice filled with a quiet, fierce pride as she stood by his side. "It's the absolute, surgical control of his internal energy. He doesn't waste a single joule on heat, light, or sound. It is all directed toward the objective. It is the perfect application of force."
The Evaluation of Potential
As the digital board displayed the final rankings, Hiromi Higuruma stood at the very top—Rank 1. He looked down the list to find Midoriya, who was trembling at the bottom, clutching his purple, shattered finger.
"Midoriya-kun," Hiromi said, walking over to the boy. His shadow loomed over the smaller student. "You are a liability to this classroom."
Midoriya looked up, his eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. "I... I had to do it! It was the only way to get a result!"
"A hero who breaks his own tools in the first five minutes of a trial is of no use to the client," Hiromi said, his voice cold and clinical, yet holding the weight of a hard-learned lesson. "If you cannot control the power you wield, it is not a Quirk; it is a crime against your own potential and the safety of those you claim to protect. Fix your foundation, or the Law of this academy will eventually find you guilty of incompetence and strike you from the record."
Momo stepped up beside Hiromi, her expression impassive, her loyalty radiating like a shield. She didn't pity Midoriya; she saw him as a crack in the order Hiromi was trying to build. "We should go, Hiromi-san. The next briefing begins in ten minutes. We shouldn't be late for the formal orientation."
Hiromi nodded, turning away without a second glance at the broken boy on the grass. He wasn't here to be a classmate, a friend, or a rival. He was here to be the Architect of a New Order.
"First day of the audit," Hiromi thought as they walked back toward the locker rooms, the sun glinting off the U.A. windows. "The subjects are talented, but their discipline is non-existent. The system is flawed, rewarding flash over function. But by the time I open my Agency... they will all know the true weight of the Gavel."
.....
Author's Note:
Welcome to the start of the U.A. arc! In this chapter, I wanted to really emphasize the gap between Hiromi and the rest of the class. While everyone else is focused on being a "Hero," Hiromi is operating as a "Judge." His use of Cursed Energy (Divergent Fist/Reinforcement) is intentionally subtle compared to the flashy Quirks of Bakugo and Midoriya, which only makes him more intimidating. Momo's development is also starting to lean into that protective, agency-focused partner role we discussed.
Next up is the Battle Trial—get ready to see Judgeman in full force!