Heroes Gamble: A BNHA Story

Chapter Three: Shackled by Freedom

Hayato sat at the kitchen table in the apartment, his apartment, staring at the contract laid out before him. The document was crisp, its pages thick with legal jargon he didn't fully understand but had been explained to him during the debriefing with Nezu. He had no choice but to trust the words Nezu and Red-Eyes had used to walk him through it, their tone more professional and understanding than manipulative. They needed him to succeed. He was an investment. One that may put them both on the chopping block and those within the Hero Public Safety Commission who supported this idea. But this didn't make the weight of the contract any lighter in his hands.

Nezu had made it sound so simple: Pass the U.A. entrance exam, follow the rules, graduate within the top ten, and you'll have your freedom.

Freedom. The word hung in his mind like a mocking specter. How much freedom could he have when he was still shackled by a system that didn't trust him? When the heroes he was now supposed to work alongside were the same ones who had been after him for years? The same ones he had injured in their battles?

Hayato read over the list of stipulations again, though it felt more like reading a list of chains. The first was the apartment itself—a small, one-bedroom place, fully furnished, where he would live during his time at U.A. It would be a twenty-minute walk to the school, giving him just enough distance from the other students but keeping him within arm's reach of the faculty. He'd have room and board, a monthly stipend for groceries and essentials, and access to everything a student would need. In exchange, the rules were ironclad.

First, he would have to pass the U.A. entrance exam—though Nezu had granted him leeway on the academic portion, since his past had denied him any form of real education. Still, he had to show up. He had to try. Then there was the tutoring, the relentless study sessions with various teachers who would help him catch up on years of missed schooling, all crammed into the two months before the entrance exam would take place. Hayato wasn't a fool—he knew he was behind, but the idea of cramming years of learning into two months, had filled him with a quiet dread. There was no way he could handle that without losing his mind.

The second stipulation was the tracking bracelet. His eyes flicked to his wrist, where a sleek, silver bracelet now rested snugly around his skin. It wasn't bulky or uncomfortable, but the weight of it was inescapable. It was a constant reminder that his every move was being watched. The school and the Hero Safety Commission would know his whereabouts at all times, and if he even thought about slipping away, the bracelet would alert them immediately.

9 PM curfew on weekdays, 10 PM on weekends. Hayato leaned back in his chair, sighing. He hadn't had a curfew since he was a child—or since he had escaped whatever hellish "family" he had known. The idea of being restricted by something so simple felt almost insulting, but again, it wasn't negotiable. As long as he was wearing that bracelet, there was no freedom, not really.

And then there was the matter of his grades. Nezu had said it so cheerfully that it took Hayato a moment to process the weight of it: He had to maintain good grades. Not just acceptable, not average—good grades. He could struggle a bit, but if he consistently failed, that was it. Game over. No more chances. And then the final kicker: if he managed to graduate in the top ten of his class, his record would be expunged. It would be like he never existed in the villain world. He'd have a clean slate. A pro-hero license, even a sidekick job. The system would call it redemption.

Then there were the obvious ones, saying if he were to commit any sort of crime or anything against the law, he would be taken to jail.

It sounded too good to be true, and Hayato knew all too well that things that seemed too good to be true usually came with hidden traps.