The crisp morning air hit my face as I stood amidst the sea of eager, nervous wannabe heroes, trying not to feel completely out of place. Okay, that's a lie. I was out of place. I mean, look at them—everyone here looked like they'd just stepped out of a hero training montage. Buff guy over there was punching the air like he had a grudge against oxygen. Green-haired girl? Floating two feet off the ground like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, I was... well, just standing here.

No quirk. 

No showy abilities. 

Just me, my over-packed backpack, and a growing sense of dread.

Don't get me wrong—I'm confident in what I can do. I've studied every hero, every move, every strategy. I've trained until my muscles felt like jelly and my brain screamed for mercy. But confidence doesn't exactly translate when you're surrounded by people who can literally throw fireballs or teleport across a room.

And yet, here I was. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: never underestimate the power of sheer, unrelenting stubbornness. Also, caffeine. A lot of caffeine.

Before I could spiral too far into self-doubt, the ground beneath us practically shook as a booming voice cut through the nervous chatter.

Mic: "ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP, FUTURE HEROES!"

I didn't even have to look up to know it was Present Mic. Who else could yell loud enough to rival a natural disaster? His voice hit us like a sonic wave, and the crowd immediately stilled. Even Mr. "I'm So Cool I Shadowbox in Public" stopped punching the air.

I turned my attention toward the front, and there he was, in all his blindingly loud glory. Present Mic stood like a beacon of energy, his sunglasses glinting in the morning light, his bright yellow hair defying gravity as if even physics was too scared to question him.

Mic: "This is it! The moment you've all been waiting for!" he shouted, throwing his arms wide like he was introducing us to a rock concert instead of a grueling hero exam. "Today, you'll be taking part in UA's legendary physical exam! It's your chance to show us what you're made of! Your quirks, your brains, your guts—everything you've got!"

I could practically feel the collective tension in the air, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. People were either hyped beyond belief or one panic attack away from bolting. 

Me? 

I was somewhere in between, quietly cataloging every possible way this could go horribly wrong.

Mic's voice cut through again. 

Mic: "But don't think this is just about SMASHING things and looking COOL!" He struck a ridiculous pose, pointing a finger toward the sky. "A hero's job is about adaptability, resourcefulness, and teamwork! So don't just think with your fists, alright? THINK WITH YOUR HEADS!"

Right. Because that's what people are here for. Sure, we all want to save lives and be heroes, but let's be honest—most of us are here because the idea of punching a robot sounds like fun.

I scanned the crowd again, catching glimpses of shifting expressions—nervous laughter, quiet determination, one guy who looked like he was about to throw up. Solidarity, man. We're all hanging on by a thread.

Then my gaze drifted to the edge of the crowd, and I nearly did a double take. There he was, the shadow in the spotlight: Eraserhead. Or should I say, the most terrifyingly casual man in the room.

Unlike Present Mic, who was practically a human exclamation point, Eraserhead looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, his eyes were half-lidded, and his whole vibe screamed I'd rather be anywhere else. He was walking through the crowd now, blending in so seamlessly that most people didn't even notice him.

And that's what made him terrifying. Because while Present Mic was all flash and noise, Eraserhead was watching. Observing. Judging. You ever feel like someone's peeling back your entire existence with a single glance? That's what it felt like as his gaze swept over the students. When his eyes flicked toward me for the briefest second, I nearly stopped breathing.

Was I overthinking it? Probably. But hey, overthinking is my superpower.

Mic, meanwhile, was still going strong. 

Mic: "Now, let me break it down for you!" he declared, pacing back and forth like he was delivering the keynote at a superhero TED Talk. 

Mic: "You'll be split into groups, each assigned to a designated area. Your job? Complete the tasks given to you in the most efficient, heroic way possible! Some tasks will test your speed, others your strength, and some..." He paused dramatically, lowering his sunglasses just enough to reveal his eyes. "...will test how you think like a hero."

Someone in the crowd muttered, "What does that even mean?" 

Honestly? 

Same.

Mic: "And don't think it's just about finishing fast!" Mic continued, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. "You'll be graded on creativity, problem-solving, and teamwork. So if you're thinking of just brute-forcing your way through—think again!"

The murmurs started up again, a ripple of nerves and whispers moving through the group. My own stomach churned. Creativity? Problem-solving? Those were things I was good at, sure. But there's a big difference between solving hypothetical problems in my notebook and doing it in front of pro heroes with everyone watching. No pressure, right?

Mic's grin widened as he raised a hand, silencing the crowd once more. 

Mic: "Oh, and one more thing!" His voice dropped slightly, just enough to create a dramatic hush. "Some of your evaluators will be blending in with you. You might not even notice they're there, so don't assume you're ever off the radar!"

I glanced around instinctively, my eyes darting to the students around me. Evaluators? Blending in? My gaze flicked back to Eraserhead, who had somehow disappeared from sight. Of course. He was already in the crowd, probably standing right behind someone, silently judging them for breathing too loudly.

Great. Just great. As if I didn't have enough to stress about, now I had to worry about invisible evaluators.

Mic: "Alright, heroes-in-training!" Present Mic shouted, throwing both arms into the air like he was declaring the start of a festival. "Let's get to it! Show us what you've got, and make it legendary!"

Legendary? Sure, no problem. Just give me a second to stop internally screaming, and I'll get right on that.

As the crowd began to disperse, people heading toward their designated areas, I stood frozen for a moment, letting it all sink in. This was it. No Kaito to distract me with dumb dares. No comforting words from my mom. Just me, my brain, and about a hundred ways this could go wrong.

I took a deep breath, tightening the straps of my bag. 

And with that, I stepped forward, blending into the crowd, ready—or at least pretending to be ready—for whatever UA was about to throw my way.