Mha oc

Child Labo- i mean Quirk Assessment Test

The sun beat down relentlessly as we all stood on the training field, waiting for Dad—I mean, Eraser Head—to actually start the quirk assessment test. He was leaning against a wall with his signature sleep-deprived glare, clipboard in hand, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Same, honestly.
"Alright," he finally drawled, scratching the back of his head. "You'll all be performing a series of exercises to evaluate how well you can use your quirks in practical applications. No theatrics. Just results."
"Wait, what about orientation?" someone piped up—Midoriya, of course.
"We don't have time for that nonsense," Aizawa deadpanned, narrowing his eyes. "Life doesn't give you orientations. Now, first up—Bakugo. Ball throw."
I slouched against the nearest fence post, watching Bakugo strut up like he owned the place. He grabbed the ball, eyes gleaming with anticipation, and launched it with an explosion that echoed across the field. The numbers on the monitor skyrocketed, earning a few gasps from the class.
"Nice," I muttered, but mostly to myself. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, I'd just blend into the background and avoid this whole thing.
No such luck.
"Ryo," Aizawa called, snapping me out of my attempt to merge with the fence. "You're up."
I sighed again—this time loud enough to make Kaminari chuckle—and pushed off the post. "Do I have to?" I asked, dragging my feet toward the circle like I was walking to my own execution.
"Yes." Aizawa's tone brooked no argument.
Fine. Whatever.
The ball was cool in my hand, heavier than it looked, but I barely glanced at it. My quirk didn't help with this kind of thing. Hell, I wasn't even sure it would help in general; this whole test felt like a long con designed to make me expend energy I didn't have.
"Any time now," Aizawa muttered, rubbing his temples like I was the sole cause of his migraine.
With another dramatic sigh, I tossed the ball underhand, watching it arc lazily through the air before landing with a soft plop.
"2.4 meters," the monitor beeped.
"Seriously?" Bakugo barked from the sidelines, glaring at me like I'd just personally insulted his entire existence.
"What?" I shot back, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "It landed, didn't it?"
"That's not the point!"
"Moving on," Aizawa interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Next test: grip strength."
A few students murmured nervously while others (Bakugo, obviously) looked like they were ready to level the entire field just to prove a point. As for me? I was standing at the back of the group, hands shoved into my pockets, wishing I could melt into the grass.
"Ryo."
I blinked and lazily turned my head toward Dad, who was already staring directly at me. "Hmm?"
"You're not invisible. Stop trying."
Somewhere to my left, I heard Kaminari stifle a laugh. I shrugged and gave the most half-hearted thumbs-up imaginable. "Sure thing, Sensei."
The tests began with everyone lining up for a 50-meter dash. It was loud, chaotic, and full of the kind of energy I couldn't match even if someone paid me.
When it was my turn, I dragged myself to the starting line like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. "You got this!" Kirishima cheered, grinning like I'd just announced I was running a marathon instead of barely jogging 50 meters.
I sighed dramatically and crouched into position, the picture of reluctance.
"Three, two, one—go!"
I jogged. Not sprinted, not ran. Jogged. Like I was taking a casual stroll through a park.
The timer beeped as I crossed the finish line, and Dad rubbed his temples in frustration. "You're not even pretending to try, are you?"
I plopped down on the grass beside the track, sprawling out like I'd just completed an Olympic event. "I am exerting myself, Sensei. This is peak effort."
"Seriously?" Bakugo barked from the sidelines, arms crossed and glaring like I'd personally offended him. "That's pathetic!"
"It's strategy," I replied, waving a hand lazily. "I'll save my energy for when it actually matters. You should try it sometime."
Bakugo's hands sparked, and I could practically feel the incoming explosion of insults. Luckily, Dad intervened. "Stop antagonizing each other." He shot me a look. "You're retaking that at the end. No shortcuts."
"Sure thing, Sensei," I said, already wandering off to find the shadiest spot to sit in while the rest of the class went through their tests.