His light.

Chapter 3: Expelled.

The chill of early spring hung in the air, crisp and refreshing as I made my way through the sprawling halls of U.A. High. Despite my excitement, I'd been wandering for nearly an hour, hopelessly lost in the massive labyrinth of corridors. "Seriously, how big is this place?" I muttered, growing frustrated. Just as I was ready to give up, I finally rounded a corner and spotted a massive door marked 1-A. My heart pounded as I took a deep breath. This is it.

I entered quietly, only to be met with a burst of heated voices echoing around the classroom. Two students were facing off—one of them, a blond guy with wild, spiky hair, was yelling at a tall boy with glasses. The blond sneered, his voice dripping with hostility. "Well, aren't you an elite? I've got a damn good reason to end you right here!"

I blinked, caught off guard. End him? This guy's supposed to be a hero? I muttered to myself, wondering how someone with such an attitude could make it into a place like U.A.

Just then, another head poked into the room, looking just as uncertain as I felt. I recognized him immediately—the green-haired boy who'd broken both his arms and legs during the entrance exam. So he made it in too? I thought, surprised. I offered him a small smile as he caught my eye. "Hi, I just got here too. I'm Chez Veda." I extended my hand, a bit timidly.

He returned my smile, though he seemed nervous. "Izuku Midoriya," he replied, shaking my hand. Before we could exchange another word, the boy with glasses strode over, introducing himself with an energy that seemed out of place amidst all the tension.

"Hello! I'm Tenya Iida, from Soumei Junior High," he announced, giving a formal bow as he eagerly shook our hands. I nodded, introducing myself once more before excusing myself to find a seat.

As I walked away, I glanced back and noticed the blond boy's intense gaze fixed on Midoriya. "Deku..." he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with irritation. They must know each other, I guessed, though I didn't linger on it. I quickly spotted an empty seat by the window and headed for it, choosing to sit in the first row, just across from the angry blond boy. As I settled in, I glanced around, watching the other students chat nervously, their voices filling the air with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Suddenly, a heavy silence fell over the room as someone entered. He looked like he hadn't slept in days—dark circles under his eyes, a rough, unshaven face, and disheveled hair that fell to his shoulders. He shuffled in, still halfway wrapped in a yellow sleeping bag. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta. Nice to meet you," he said in a flat voice, his eyes barely open.

Aizawa held up a stack of gym uniforms and tossed them onto a nearby desk. "Put these on and meet me at the P.E. grounds."

A ripple of confusion passed through the room as we all stood up. As I looked around, wondering who to ask about the changing rooms, my eyes landed reluctantly on the blond boy. Steeling myself, I approached him. "Um, excuse me," I asked, trying not to shrink under his glare, "do you know where the women's room is?"

He shot me a withering look. "Like hell do I know! Go ask someone else, short stack!" he barked, turning and stomping away. Startled, I just stood there, taken aback by his abruptness.

A girl with earphone jacks dangling from her ears stepped up beside me. "Don't mind him," she said, rolling her eyes. "He's like that with everyone. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

I followed her gratefully, and soon enough, we were all suited up and out on the P.E. grounds. The brisk air stung my skin, but I focused on Aizawa-sensei, who stood in front of us with his usual disinterested look. Someone spoke up from the crowd, asking, "Sensei, don't we have the entrance ceremony and guidance counselor meeting first?"

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. "Heroes don't waste time on formalities. We're doing a Quirk Apprehension Test instead."

Shock rippled through the group as we absorbed his words. "A... Quirk Apprehension Test?" someone echoed, wide-eyed.

Aizawa explained calmly, "It's a series of physical tests where you'll be allowed to use your quirks. Softball pitch, standing long jump, 50-meter dash, endurance running, grip strength, sustained sideways jumps, upper-body exercises, and seated toe touch. Today, you'll use your quirks in each of these activities to gauge your current capabilities."

He turned to the blond boy, who'd been glaring at him with a confident smirk. "Bakugo," Aizawa called, "how far could you pitch a softball in middle school?"

Bakugo crossed his arms, shrugging. "Sixty-seven meters."

Aizawa tossed him a softball. "Try it again. This time, use your quirk. Don't hold back."

With a grin, Bakugo stretched and wound up, his gaze locked on the empty field. "You got it." He drew back his arm, his palm sparking with energy, and launched the ball with an explosion, yelling, "DIE!" The force of his blast sent the ball rocketing through the sky. We all watched in awe as it soared until Aizawa's device beeped, displaying Bakugo's score: 705.2 meters.

A murmur went through the group, a mix of admiration and intimidation. I caught myself whistling under my breath.

Aizawa's face remained stoic as he raised the device for us all to see. "This is a rational metric to determine the foundation of your hero training. Knowing your own limits and abilities is essential."

A few students murmured excitedly, clearly eager for their turn. "This is going to be fun!" someone said, unable to contain their enthusiasm.

But Aizawa's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "Fun, you say?" His eyes swept over us, cold and calculating. "You came here planning to spend three years having a good ol' time? What happened to becoming heroes?" His gaze felt like ice, cutting through each of us. "Let me make this clear. Whoever ranks last in total points will be judged hopeless—and expelled."

My stomach dropped, a chill running through me. Expelled? I knew I was at a disadvantage. My quirk wasn't designed for physical tasks like this. Healing, seeing, protecting—yes. But strength, speed, endurance? I clenched my fists, feeling a bitter smile tug at my lips.

"Welcome to the Department of Heroics," Aizawa announced, his piercing eyes sweeping over us once more. The weight of his words settled heavily on the group.