The auditorium was packed, buzzing with nervous chatter as students filled every seat. Kacchan and I had managed to snag spots toward the middle, though he immediately slouched down in his chair, arms crossed like he owned the place. Meanwhile, I sat upright, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while clutching my notebook like it was a lifeline.

Then, the lights dimmed, and a small figure stepped onto the stage. At first glance, you'd think a harmless plushie had wandered up there by mistake. But the moment Principal Nezu began to speak, the entire room fell silent.

"Welcome to UA's entrance exam," he said, his high-pitched voice carrying across the auditorium with surprising authority. "Before we begin, let me make one thing perfectly clear: UA is not for the faint of heart."

The room tensed.

"This school does not tolerate mediocrity," Nezu continued, pacing slowly across the stage. "We demand excellence. Creativity. Resourcefulness. And, above all, the ability to adapt under pressure."

His beady eyes scanned the crowd, and I could've sworn he paused for a fraction of a second when they landed on me.

"If you think this is just another school, you're wrong. If you think this exam is just another test, you're very wrong. And if you think I am just a cute little rodent..." He smiled, and somehow, it was both adorable and terrifying. "Well, you're in for a rude awakening."

Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A few even whispered to each other, clearly not taking him seriously. Big mistake.

Nezu clapped his paws together. "Let's weed out the unworthy, shall we?"

The room stilled.

"What is the fundamental principle behind quirk regulation in urban areas?" he asked, pointing randomly at a boy in the front row.

The boy stammered, "Uh, it's... to, um, ensure public safety?"

Nezu tilted his head. "Close, but not quite. You're excused."

The boy's face turned red as he stumbled out of his seat and toward the exit.

Nezu moved on without missing a beat. "What's the penalty for unauthorized quirk use during an emergency?" he asked a girl a few rows behind me.

"Uh... a fine?" she guessed.

Nezu smiled again. "Wrong. You're excused."

The girl looked like she might cry as she hurried out.

This continued for several agonizing minutes. One by one, students were called on at random, their answers scrutinized mercilessly. And one by one, they were dismissed, the tension in the room growing thicker with each departure.

Then it happened.

"Young boy there...," Nezu said, his voice slicing through the air like a scalpel as he pointed at me.

My stomach dropped. Of course, I had to be next.

I stood up slowly, clutching the edge of my seat for balance. "Y-Yes, sir?"

Nezu's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Define the term 'quirk singularity' and explain its potential implications for society."

The room went silent.

Oh. Oh, this was a hard one. But I'd read about it—of course I'd read about it.

"The quirk singularity is the theory that quirks are becoming increasingly powerful and complex with each generation," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "If this trend continues, it could lead to a point where quirks are too volatile to control, posing significant risks to both individuals and society."

Nezu's smile widened. "And what would you propose as a solution to this potential crisis?"

I swallowed hard. "Um... increased research into quirk genetics and better education on quirk management, starting at a young age?"

For a moment, Nezu just stared at me. Then he clapped his tiny paws together. "Excellent answer. You may stay seated."

I sank back into my chair, my heart pounding. Kacchan shot me a sideways glance, his eyebrows raised.

"What?" I whispered.

"Didn't think you had it in you, nerd," he muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Nezu dismissed a few more students, his criteria growing more obscure and his questions more absurd. By the time he was done, the room was noticeably emptier, the remaining students looking both relieved and terrified.

"Congratulations to those of you who remain," Nezu said, his cheerful tone belying the chaos he'd just unleashed. "You've passed the first test. Now, onto the main event!"

The lights brightened, and a projector screen descended from the ceiling, signaling the start of the presentation.

As Nezu explained the practical exam, my mind wandered for just a moment. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made the right choice coming here. UA was intense—far more intense than I'd imagined. But then I glanced at Kacchan, who was staring at the screen with a mix of determination and irritation, and I felt a strange sense of reassurance.

We were in this together, whether we liked it or not.

And honestly? That thought was kind of comforting.