[UP FOR ADOPTION] Nozomu (A My Hero Academia fanfic)

Chapter 3: Entrance Exams (Ver. 2)

Midoriya woke up from a restless sleep due to the ever creaking floorboards to glimpse at the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon out of his window. It extended its vivid light across the deep crimson sky. Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the window providing much needed warmth to his body. Heat didn't come cheap in Mustafau so any brief emulation of it was welcome.

And then the alarm went off. Panic washed over him, the ignorant morning bliss overturned by the importance of the day ahead. It is the day in which all of the certified Hero Schools held the entrance exams for the famous Hero course, from Shiketsu in the west to U.A in the east. There were always two parts to these exams: written and practical. The written examination was a test used unanimously across the schools and is designed to bring out the best in its would-be students, however, it is the practical exam that truly defines who is fit to be in the course. Each school had their own approach to it. Some place students against never-ending horses of faux villains where how long you last determines the placement whilst others opt for a point based system where strategic knockouts are more vital.

To say Midoriya was excited and had been for months was a vast understatement and not reflective of the raw anticipation he held. He was so eager in fact that he had managed to accrue enough money to purchase a decent tracksuit as opposed to the usual hand-me-downs that he had grown accustomed to. The clothing itself was mostly jet-black with bits of mahogany in some areas, the most notable of which being a single stripe upon the shirt crossing from his left shoulder to his right hip.

Hastily, Izuku donned the tracksuit, now already reaching for his grappling-hooks and accompanying holsters, securing them with a hickory-coloured belt. He paused, if only for a moment, to gaze into the fractured mirror that precariously hung upon the wall. A tiny smirk adorned his face; the sensation felt almost alien to him for he had not experienced it in quite some time. Perhaps things were finally looking up, and just maybe, things may turn out alright.

He swiftly approached the dining room, promptly scoffing down a portion of cereal before bolting out the door just as quickly. For once, his mother didn't bother with the usual overprotective fretting. Inko was more transfixed on his expression during all of this: he was smiling. Water streamed out of her eyes when the door finally shut behind him. These were happy tears. "Izuku..."

Eventually after many instances of out-maneuvering petty gangs, escaping the maze of streets that is the outer border and generally being harassed, he finally reached his destination. Standing tall was a porcelain gate, the infamous insignia of U.A embroidered in gold on its peak. Bone white bricks forming a 3 metre high wall provided a sufficient boundary between the outside and the school itself, both in physical prowess and in a duplicitous combination of welcoming and intimidating.

The main building itself on the other hand was ginormous in stature,easily towering over its neighbours. Most of the walls were instead made up of cerulean tinted windows, from those was sure to be a surreal view of the wider district on which it sat. To think that-

Midoriya's incessant ramblings were interrupted by heat rapidly rising on his shoulder. Shuddering, he carefully pivoted his body to come face-to-face once again with his 'childhood friend'.
"I thought I told you not to come here quirkless!" Bakugou berated, a demonic grin etching across his face, contrasting the visage of unadulterated rage, making him that much more terrifying. "Tch. No matter, you will pay for your own mistake soon enough," He jeered as he barged past, continuing his walk into the hall out of sight. It was at this point that the singing on Midoriya's shoulder finally subsided, revealing yet another scar had made its home on his body, in this case the firm imprint of his tormentor's hand plastered on his shoulder, penetrating the fabric of the jumpsuit with ease.