By 8:53 a.m. all the students were seated in a large auditorium, exam papers placed face-down on the desks. No one had supervised us while we filed down into random seats, leaving most of the examinees to engage in quiet conversation.

I guess I'd been too worried about getting a seat that gives me a decent view of the competition that I somehow ended up next to Kacchan.

The realization was sudden and unpleasant. With his arms crossed and flexed right beside me, it took everything I had not to stare him in the face.

I want to see if he'd recognize me. To see if his eyes would light up in disbelief. To see if he'd ever joined in those searches for me like I've heard. Even if I weren't wearing this disguise, had this fake name plastered on my counterfeit records-- would he still not know me?

I kept my eyes trained on the black watch I wore on my wrist as a way of distraction, the minute hand moving slowly but surely. It was a little something I got from one of my missions with Spinner; it belongs to a haughty businessman who was interfering in the personal business of the League. Well, belonged.

A tall man in a suit walked into the auditorium, silencing all leftover chatter. Kacchan adjusted his lounged position and sat up straight.

"Good morning everyone," he cleared his throat. "To my understanding, you are all applying for the UA High School Hero Course, correct?"

Once he was met with nods, the man pushed up his glasses and continued. "I will be your exam proctor for today. You will have two hours to finish the exam, with a five minute break in between. We will begin the math portion at 9:00, which is in approximately ten seconds."

He held up his very own watch to his face. "In three... two...

"Go."

                               -----------------------

Though I missed a third of the school year and have lived a villain's lifestyle for a while, I never took it as an excuse to skip out on my studies. It was never my grades that made my life a living hell anyway-- just my quirkless self.

And I always figured that being quirkless and dumb wouldn't be a great combination for becoming a pro-hero.

Since I first joined the League of Villains I designated five hours a day to studying, gathering all the schoolbooks I could find and memorizing formulas and theories. Toga would join me sometimes too, since she didn't have much of a good school life either.

That's one thing Mom would be happy to know.

I breezed through the math and reading portions with ease, leaving a good twenty minutes in each time slot to check over my work. With a sly glance over at Kacchan's paper, I saw that he was as finished as me.

He leafed through his papers carefully, rereading all the questions but didn't bother to pick up his pencil and correct anything.

It's no surprise really... he was always the smartest in our class.

By 11:05 a.m, the proctor's alarm rang and we were told to hand in our exams at the front of the auditorium, one row at a time.

The examiner swiftly left the room once he gathered all our papers, leaving us unsupervised and swallowed in excited chatter once again.

In the row in front of Kacchan and I, a girl with red hair turned around and tapped on Kacchan's desk.

"Hey... I just wanted to ask... You're Katsuki Bakugo, right?"

He lifted his head, his red eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"

"I thought you were really cool, fighting that Sludge Villain! I didn't get to see it in person, but my whole family watched it on TV. So I was wondering... " She took out her phone shakily. "Maybe I could get your number...?

His face bunched up in disgust. "You're talking but all I'm hearing is a bunch of stupid shit. Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to focus."

Her smile fell so fast that I wondered if it was there in the first place.

The girl turned right back around. "Right."

I glanced back at Kacchan, almost in resentful concern. Was he always this explosive?

With no warning the lights flashed off, veiling the auditorium in a darkness that the large screens at the front put to an end. At the podium stood another tall man, but with blond hair that seemed to stand up on its own. He wore a black leather jacket, neon glasses, and a pair of headphones-- and recognition never hit so fast.

"The Voice Hero-- Present Mic," I murmured aloud. I used to be obsessed with his radio show, as much as I was obsessed with everything pro-hero related.

I rested my head on my hand. I wonder if the fact that all UA teachers are pro-heroes is a heavy disadvantage...  or could it somehow work in my favor?

"What's up, UA candidates!" His smile was blinding.

"Thanks for tunin' in to me, your school DJ." Present Mic waved his hands around in a cheer. "C'mon, lemme hear ya!!"

Though he was met with nothing but awkward silence, Present Mic went on without missing a beat. "Keeping it mellow, huh? That's fine, I'll skip straight to the main show. Let's talk about how this practical exam is gonna go down, okay?"

I leaned in closer, and so did Kacchan.

I'm as strong, if not stronger, than most of the people here, even without a quirk. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to find as many loopholes to get through this as possible.

Present Mic tried in another failed attempt of hyping up the room before explaining the rules in a dejected embarrassment.

"Like your application said, today you rockin' boys and girls will be out there conducting ten-minute mock battles in suuuuper-hip urban settings." Behind him the screen changed from the infamous UA logo to a map of our current location, the UA School, and the battle settings ranging from A to G.

"Gird your loins, my friends! After I drop the mic here, you'll head to your specified battle center, sound good??"

I picked up the exam ticket all applicants got upon arriving at UA, which labeled our examinee number, test location, and other basic information.

"Guess I'm in Battle Center B," I murmured more to myself than anything.

Kacchan's eyes wandered to my card. "I see. They're splitting us up so we can't work with our friends."

My brows furrowed as I looked at his own card. Although I might hate saying it, he was right; though his number was 2233 and mine was 2234, Kacchan was assigned to Battle Center A and I B.

I turned my card face down and rested my head on my fist. "Mhm," I hummed at him dismissively.

I may have to deal with him for the time being, but it doesn't mean I have to be friendly with him. My mission is bigger than him anyway. It's bigger than the both of us.

"Hey, do you have some fucking issue--??"

"Okay, okay, let's check out your targets!" Present Mic conveniently interrupted.

Kacchan glared at me with a suppressed rage, then turned back around. Letting out a breath, I crack my stiff knuckles. I hope I don't have to deal with his same shit this year.

"There are three types of faux villains in every battle center. You'll earn points based on their level of difficulty, so better choose wisely!" With each sentence appeared a silhouette of some robot machine on the movie-like screen. "Your goal in this trial is to use your quirk to raise your score by shredding these faux villains. Like a mid-song guitar solo!"

A little animation played of a character defeating one of the faux villains and earning one, two, or three points depending on the villain. "But check it!" Present Mic pointed extravagantly at us. "Make sure you're keepin' things heroic. Attacking other examinees is a UA no-no, ya dig?!"

One of the students stood up, raising their hand earnestly. From what I could see his hair was blue, and he was pretty tall. His tan suit didn't have a single wrinkle. "Excuse me, sir. But I have a question."

"Hit me!" A theatrical spotlight shone on him. 

"On the printout, you've listed four types of villains. Not three." He pointed at the paper we received at the door. "With all respect, if this is an error on official UA materials, it is shameful! We are exemplary students. We expect the best from Japan's most notable school. A mistake such as this won't do!

"Additionally, you with the unkempt hair." He turned around quickly and pointed at me. I raised my brow at him.

"You've been muttering this entire time. Stop that. If you can't bother to take this seriously, leave." He adjusted his glasses and talked with some twisted sense of self-righteousness. "You're distracting the rest of us."

How annoying. What right does he have to speak down to me like that? Why's he acting like he's better than the rest of us? Better than me?

"Turn around." I said.

My face must have grimaced or shown something truly horrible, because he flinched at my expression and turned around quickly. Almost like he was disturbed.

As the other examinees giggled at the boy, I forced my eyes on the presentation. I can't afford to get pissed at stuff like this; but If the entire class is gonna be insufferable shits like him I have no idea how I'll survive.

Kacchan watched me from the corner of his eye.

"Alright, alright!" Present Mic tried to settle down the room. "Examine 7111, thanks for callin' in with your request."

The screen showed another faux villain, with '0P' right above it. "The fourth villain type is worth zero points. That guy's just an obstacle we'll be throwing in your way. There's one in every battle center. Think of it as a hurdle you should try to avoid." Another animation played of a character encountering the villain before running quickly in the opposite direction. "It's not that it can't be beaten, but there's... kinda no point.

I recommend my listeners try to ignore it and focus on the ones toppin' the charts."

"Thank you very much. Please continue." The boy bowed fervently and sat down. His spotlight faded out.

"Ohh, I get it," I heard someone say. "So they're kinda like traps you have to get by in games."

"The whole thing's kinda like a video game, huh?"

"Well!" Present Mic clapped his hands together. "That's all I got for you today! I'll sign off with a little present-- a sample of our school motto. As General Napoleon Bonaparte once laid down, 'a true hero is one who overcomes life's misfortunes.' Now that's a tasty soundbite! You ready to go beyond??"

The room swelled in a mutual feeling of determination and adamant resolve, even though we all knew only a hundred of us would actually get accepted. In the way the students held themselves was a strong dignity and desire for more-- whether that be fame, money, to willingly work under the spell of hero society-- whatever it was, it ached me to see the remembrance of my old self in each and every one of them.

"Let's hear a Plus Ultra!" This time Present Mic wasn't deterred by the lack of response. "Good luck! Hope you practiced hitting more than just books."

I reached the back of my seat for the bag I brought with me. Placing it on my lap, I felt for the sharp imprint of a silvery green dagger, a Campos notebook, and a pen.

I'm ready.