On a rainy night in the city, you stumble upon a tired, injured, mysterious man, will you help? who is he, and what secrets does he hold amidst the storm?
Groggy and disoriented, you awaken to the shrill chirping of your alarm clock, the sound piercing through the fog of sleep. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glance at the time and curse under your breath. You were supposed to be at the UA entrance exam in less than an hour.
Ignoring your rumbling stomach, you quickly throw together a hasty breakfast of toast, barely taking the time to chew as you wolf it down. With your heart pounding in your chest, you rush to check on Toshinori, only to find his side of the bed empty.
Panic begins to rise within you, but as you take a closer look, you notice a note left behind on the bedside table. Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for it, unfolding the paper to reveal Toshinori's neat handwriting.
"Sorry I had to leave early for work," the note reads, your heart sinking with disappointment. "If you need me, my number is xxxx-xxxxx."
As you read Toshinori's note, a sense of disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside, knowing that you have a more pressing matter at hand—the UA entrance exam. With a determined sigh, you fold the note neatly and tuck it into your pocket, vowing to call Toshinori later.
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Turning your attention to the task ahead, you quickly set about getting ready. You head to the bathroom, where you hurriedly brush your teeth, the minty freshness jolting you awake. Next, you run a brush through your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands into some semblance of order.
With a glance at the clock, you realize that time is of the essence. You abandon any thoughts of a fancy outfit and opt instead for a simple tracksuit, its comfortable fabric offering ease of movement—a necessity for the physical challenges that await you at the exam.
As you slip into your shoes and grab your bag, you cast one last look around your apartment, a sense of determination burning bright within you. With a deep breath, you steel yourself for the trials ahead and set off towards the UA facilities, your heart pounding with anticipation. Today marks the beginning of your journey towards becoming a hero, and you refuse to let anything stand in your way.
you hurry towards the UA facilities, the warm rays of the morning sun bathe you in their golden glow, casting long shadows across the pavement. A gentle breeze dances through the air, carrying with it the promise of a new day and the excitement of what lies ahead.
As you approach the gates of UA, your heart races with anticipation, the towering building looming before you like a beacon of hope. The sprawling campus stretches out before you, bustling with activity as students and faculty alike prepare for the day ahead.
Your attention is drawn to a commotion in the distance, the raspy sound of shouting echoing through the air. As you make your way towards the main building, you catch sight of a figure with blonde hair, his voice booming with intensity.
The blonde-haired guy stands tall and imposing, his sharp features etched with determination. His eyes blaze with fiery intensity, a stark contrast to the calm surroundings.
As you watch from a distance, curiosity prickles at the back of your mind. Who is this blonde-haired stranger, and what could possibly drive him to such passionate outbursts?
Pushing aside your curiosity for the time being, you make your way into the hall room, or perhaps it's an auditorium. The space is vast, with rows of seats leading up to a large screen adorned with the UA logo. You find a seat near the front, the anticipation building within you as you await the start of the exam.
To your surprise, you end up sitting next to the same blond guy you saw outside, still grumbling in his seat with his arms crossed. His anger is palpable, and you can't help but wonder what could have riled him up so much.
Just as you're about to introduce yourself, a loud echoing voice cuts through the silence. "Everybody say hey!!" the voice booms, commanding attention. However, the room remains eerily quiet, the silence stretching on.
Turning your attention to the front of the room, you see a man with wild blond hair and sunglasses, his presence commanding and his energy infectious. This must be Present Mic,
"That's cold," With a resigned sigh, he announces that he'll give everyone a quick rundown of the physical exam.
Present Mic's voice reverberated through the hall, filling the space with his trademark energy and enthusiasm. His booming voice cut through the silence, commanding the attention of everyone present.
"As the application said," he began, his voice pulsing with excitement, "you'll be participating in a ten-minute mock battle in the city!"
His words sent a ripple of anticipation through the crowd, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. This was it—the moment you had been training for, the chance to prove myself and take one step closer to my dream of becoming a hero.
"At each practice center," Present Mic continued, his gestures grand and sweeping, "there will be three types of virtual villains. You will earn points based on each of their abilities. And of course, don't hurt others and do anything anti-hero!"
His words echoed in my mind as you absorbed the information, mentally preparing myself for the challenges that lay ahead. The practical exam was like a game—a test of skill and strategy, where every move mattered and every decision could mean the difference between success and failure.
But just as you were lost in thought, a voice broke through the haze, pulling you back to reality. It was the blue-haired guy with the glasses sitting opposite to me on the other side. his voice firm and determined as he raised a question about the printout.
"On this printout," he said, his tone stern as he pointed at the paper, "there are four villain types. If it's a misprint, it'll be a great shame upon Japan's best school!"
You couldn't help but admire his dedication to detail, even in the midst of such a high-stakes situation. But as he continued to talk, your mind began to wander, the words blending into background noise as you focused on my own thoughts.
"Okay, okay, examinee number 7111," Present Mic's voice boomed once more, drawing my attention back to the front of the room. "Thanks for the nice message!"
You watched as the blue-haired boy bowed down in gratitude, his expression one of sincere appreciation. He had asked a valid question, and Present Mic's response had only served to clarify the rules of the exam further.
"The fourth type is worth zero points," Present Mic explained, his voice authoritative yet reassuring. "They're just gimmicks that will cause a ruckus throughout each center. You can destroy them, but there's no point. To the listeners, I advise you to avoid these guys."
With a nod of understanding, you made a mental note to steer clear of the fourth type of villain, focusing instead on the ones that would earn me points and help me succeed in the exam.
But before you could dwell on it any further, Present Mic's voice cut through the air once more, bringing my train of thought to an abrupt halt.
"That's all for now," he declared, his tone filled with a sense of finality. "But first, let me bestow upon you our school motto..."
As he spoke, your mind raced with possibilities, analyzing the practical exam from every angle. It was like a puzzle, each piece fitting together to form a strategy that would lead me to victory.
But as your thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of anticipation, excitement, and nerves, they were suddenly drowned out by the deafening roar of a familiar phrase.
"Plus Ultra!"
Present Mic's booming voice echoed through the hall, the words a rallying cry that spurred us all on to greatness. And as the cheers of my fellow examinees filled the air, you couldn't help but feel a surge of determination wash over you.
With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and prepared to face the practical exam, the moment you've been waiting for since you were little is finally here.
