Izuku The forgotten Jade emperor.

UA end of term writing exam

The day of the written exam had arrived. For most of my classmates, the end-of-term exam was a source of anxiety and stress, but for me, it was just another task to complete. I had always been academically inclined, and the material covered in our classes had been straightforward.

Walking into the exam hall, I took my usual seat near the back. The room buzzed with nervous energy. I could hear the whispers and see the worried expressions on the faces of my classmates. Izumi and Katsuki were seated a few rows ahead, both wearing determined looks. Shoto and his sister, Shiori, were calmly discussing something, likely a last-minute review.

The proctor, Midnight, walked to the front of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She surveyed the room with a keen eye before speaking.

"Alright, students, it's time to begin your written exams. You have two hours to complete the test. Remember, no cheating, and do your best. Good luck."

She began to distribute the exam papers, and I took one without a word. As soon as the paper landed on my desk, I picked up my pen and started working through the questions.

The questions ranged from hero law to basic science, mathematics, and critical thinking. None of it posed any significant challenge to me. I methodically worked through each section, my mind clear and focused solely on the task at hand. There was no need for analysis or overthinking – just straightforward answers to straightforward questions.

About an hour into the exam, I glanced around briefly. Some of my classmates were furiously scribbling, others were deep in thought, and a few looked completely lost. I returned to my paper, uninterested in their struggles.

Finishing the exam with plenty of time to spare, I double-checked my answers. Satisfied, I set my pen down and leaned back in my chair, waiting for the allotted time to expire. As I waited, I allowed my mind to wander slightly, but only briefly.

Midnight eventually called for the papers to be collected. I handed mine in without comment, ignoring the curious glances from those who noticed I had finished early. It didn't matter. I had done what needed to be done.

Walking out of the exam hall, I felt no sense of relief or accomplishment – just a sense of completion. Another hurdle crossed, another task checked off the list. I briefly overheard some of my classmates discussing their answers and fretting over potential mistakes. I had no interest in engaging with them.

I made my way to the library, intending to use the remaining time to study for the upcoming practical exam. I knew that part of the exam would be more challenging, not because of the tasks themselves, but because it would require interaction and cooperation with others.

For now, though, I focused on the written material. The quiet solitude of the library was a welcome change from the tension-filled exam hall. Here, I could immerse myself in my studies without distraction.

As I pulled out my books and settled into my usual corner, I glanced at the clock. Plenty of time left in the day. Time to prepare, time to strategize, time to ensure that when the practical exam came, I would be ready.

And so, I began to read, my mind once again clear and focused. The written exam was behind me, and now it was time to look forward to the next challenge.

As I settled into my usual corner of the library, surrounded by books and notes, I felt a strange sense of disconnection. It wasn't the material that was difficult – it was the sudden, unbidden memories that began to surface, disrupting my usual focus. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they lingered.

I had just closed my eyes for a moment when a fragment of the past began to play in my mind, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. I found myself drifting back to a time when I lived with gramps, a time when things were simpler yet more confusing.

there was a girl. She was different – a beacon of warmth in my cold, detached world. I could't remember her appearance anymore, but her presence was unmistakable. Her laughter, her kindness – they stood out in sharp contrast to everything else.

The memories blurred and shifted. I saw fragments of conversations, moments of shared laughter, and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams. She never pried into my past, never asked about the things that haunted me. She just... existed beside me, a quiet force of nature that brought a semblance of normalcy to my fractured life.

One day, she had shown me a picture of a hero she admired. Her eyes had shone with excitement as she described his latest feats. I had listened, something in her enthusiasm resonating with a part of me that I had long buried.

"Why do you like him so much?" I had asked, genuinely curious.

She had smiled, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "Because he never gives up. No matter how tough things get, he keeps fighting. It's... inspiring."

I had nodded, her words echoing in my mind long after. She didn't know it, but she had sparked something in me. A desire to keep moving forward, to find my own path, even if it was shrouded in darkness.

A soft noise in the library brought me back to the present. I opened my eyes, the vivid memories fading into the background. The library was still quiet, and I was still surrounded by my books and notes. But something felt different. The fragments of the past had left a lingering warmth, a reminder that not everything in my life had been cold and harsh.

I took a deep breath, pushing the memories aside. There was no place for nostalgia in my life now. I had a future to prepare for, exams to ace, and a mission to complete. But for a brief moment, I allowed myself to remember the girl who had brought a flicker of light into my world.

Picking up my pen, I returned to my notes with renewed focus. The written exam was behind me, and the practical exam loomed ahead. I couldn't afford distractions. Yet, as I worked, a small part of me held onto the warmth of that memory, a quiet reminder of a time when I had not been so alone.