Hayami’s House, Musutafu, 7:12 AM

January 17th, 2149.

I’d been advised by Mr. Rin to send in an application for U.A even though I would be participating in the Recommendation Exam. The reasoning he’d explained had been that having two chances of being accepted into the student’s school of choice was better than one. If I failed the first exam, I would be better prepared for the standard exams in February.

I hadn’t been resting on my laurels in the meantime, either. I’d begun researching any information I could find on the Recommendations Exams and tried to pinpoint the exact reasoning behind their actual existence.

The U.A enrollment system wasn’t complicated exactly, but it had multiple layers.

The first layer was the application process, the students would fill out the questions, including their history of grades, and then an unknown panel would sort them. Some people would be stopped here, as they didn’t some kind of predetermined threshold for the school.

Those that passed this first invisible hurdle would then encounter the second layer, the U.A Entrance Exam—which in itself had multiple layers. A written exam, a practical exam, and a point system that all changed every year. If you failed any of those, you would be removed from the pool of candidates.

The final layer was another panel of unknown judges reviewing your file, your overall score within the exams, and deciding if you would be a good fit for the school.

All in all, a daunting task for anyone to subject themselves to—but the question remained, what was the purpose of the Recommendation Exam? Everything I had researched suggested that it existed outside of the normal system, but it mirrored it almost exactly.

The first layer was a Recommendation from an active or retired Hero or a figure of public authority. This part wasn’t strange at all; it was literally in the title—The problem lay in the second and third layers. The second layer was the written exam, a practical exam, while the third layer was an interview with the principal of U.A.

The only substantial internal difference I could find between the two exams was that one had a smaller pool to select from, so you only had about fifty rivals in the recommendation exam, while you had several hundred to several thousand in the standard exams. So those who were able to secure a recommendation had a higher chance to become a Hero.

I thought I could see another reason, though, much less obvious at first glance.

Those who chose not to apply for a hero school at all could still take the Recommendation Exam provided somebody recommended them. According to the numbers I’d seen, the vast majority of those who were in that situation actually went on to become Heroes—despite never enrolling in a hero school.

The more damning realization was that they also tended to have powerful quirks.

The function of the standard exam was to test those who wished to be heroes, to see who could make it through skill, determination, and wit. The function of the Recommendation Exam was to ensure that those who had powerful quirks but didn’t necessarily want to become heroes in the first place didn’t fall through the cracks.

It also explained why I’d gotten so many, given that I had broken the law in such a public fashion—I’d showcased the ability to overpower a villain who had been unbeatable for the local heroes, but I’d also showcased the predisposition to become involved in dangerous events as well.

The recommendation exam wasn’t a reward like Marcus had suggested—it was a leash to make sure that those could potentially go on to become problems to society were instead subtly pressured into becoming heroes. I could see the benefit of such a process, and it didn’t actually apply to me since I had intended on going to U.A regardless.

“A system designed to take potentially dangerous individuals that didn’t have any goals and turn them into heroes before they become a problem for everyone else,” I said quietly, as I reformed out in the hallway and made my way downstairs.

All you really needed was a single person in a position to recommend you, and you would likely get in—It was unfair to those who wanted to become heroes but didn’t have the ‘dangerous’ or ‘exotic’ quirks needed to stand out from the thousands of other candidates—As long as I was accepted, I couldn’t find it in myself to care because I had a destination firmly in my mind.

U.A was just the first step in that journey.

Exam Room, U.A High School, 9:43 AM

January 17th, 2149.

The Recommendation Exam was about as tough as the standard one’s test exams, which meant not really very difficult at all provided you actually did some practice exams before coming. There had been a single question, however, that had stood out to me.

It had been the trolley problem, modified to include civilians and heroes—Let the train run over civilians and save the well-known Hero, or switch the tracks, saving the Hero and dooming the three civilians.

It had given me pause for almost five minutes as I tried to figure out the layer with which they were expecting me to answer at. The first layer was obviously to save the civilians; the Hero had signed up for this job, the civilians were innocent bystanders that shouldn’t have to die.

The problem came when I actually did a value calculation.

That Hero could potentially go on to save thousands of lives if he was half as good as someone like All Might or Endeavour, the number one and two heroes, respectively. I’d thought the thought and thus recognized the Hero’s future potential—so now if I let the Hero die, knowing that I might doom hundreds of people to death because this specific Hero wasn’t there to save them.

It wasn’t a Hero’s life, verse three civilians—it was all the potential for good either of the groups could do, and which one would be a tangible benefit if saved.

There wasn’t enough context about who the civilians were either.

Were they Doctors? Killers? Teachers? Would the benefit a teacher would give to society outweigh that of a thousand lives? What if the teacher ended up teaching the girl that would grow up to cure cancer? Her contribution to society would outweigh the heroes by a million-fold.

The question was impossible to answer in an informed way, and so the first way to solve it would be to appeal to what the people marking the tests would most likely see as the right choice, which brought me back to the layer problem—There was another way to answer, one that existed outside of the structural constraints of the test.

It had been the one I had chosen in the end, sacrificing a single test point in the process.

“That will be all for the written portion of the exam!” Present Mic yelled as he entered the room without warning. “Hope you all remembered to sign your names!”

I watched the man as he crossed to the podium; he was one of the publicly listed teachers at U.A, and judging by his timing, he would be the instructor for the next phase.

“Leave your tests on the front desk on your way out.” Present Mic said cheerfully, “It’s time to get to the fun stuff; let’s go! Chop, chop!”

The class moved to follow the man’s directives, and I placed my test paper down on top of the stack before following the rest of the candidates outside. The ‘fun stuff’ the man was referring to was most likely the massive obstacle course that loomed behind the building.

Everybody had seen it before they had even taken the written exam, and I had sent several tiny orbs of sand to scout it out in advance. Five distinct locations, all connected by a track pained with arrows, guiding the participant’s way.

The course started with a run across a steep incline, both sides covered in unstable rocks, while the middle was a river that flowed downward. At the top, you would reach the First zone, a forest area where you needed to cross the treetops to get to the other side; the second was a vertical climb up an artificial mountain.

The third consisted of crossing a series of four rope bridges that swayed dangerously in the wind and had no railings. The fourth was a split between a waterfall and a series of pillars designed as stepping downs with large gaps between them, each of these led to the bottom. The fifth and final zone was a series of artificial steam holes, with narrow pathways between them that you needed to cross while the steam randomly burst forth from different holes.

Each of the zones was connected with several hundred meters of the pathway before and after; the last stretch after the steam zone was a straight shot to the finish.

“As you can see behind me, the practical exam is an obstacle course,” Present Mic grinned. “The rules are simple! Go through each of the checkpoints at the beginning and end of each zone; how you pass the obstacles is completely up to you; use your quirk, don’t use it, use it a little or a lot—this isn’t a course you can hope to beat by simply running—As long as you pass through each of the checkpoints, you will pass—we have cameras at each, so we will know if you miss any. Absolutely no fighting, or you’ll be failed. No turning around and going back—if you want to give up at any time, just sit down, hang tight, and we’ll come to get you.”

Present Mic paused for a moment before continuing.

“You’ll be taking it in groups of six, so about twelve rounds before were done here.” Present Mic said cheerfully, “I’ll be calling your numbers, so when you hear them, I want you to head to the starting gate.”

I glanced down at the number I’d been gifted at the introduction of the exam, ’69.’

“Nice!” Present Mic shouted at the top of his lungs. “Let’s get this party started! Seven, fourteen, twenty-five, fifty-three, sixty-nine, seventy-two! Head on over!”

I stepped forward, made my way towards the front of the group, and then started down the stairs. The other five participants followed me, and when we were halfway down, a girl with dark green hair and sharp teeth spoke up.

“Some obstacle course, huh?” The girl said confidently. “You guys worried?”

A boy with brown hair who was standing near her spoke up.

“Ah, a little bit, but I’ll do my best.” The boy said happily, “Names Iwaki—you don’t sound too worried?”

“Setsuna,” Setsuna said, grinning, “That’s because I’m not.”

“Ah,” Iwaki said, bemused and fell silent.

The other three in the group didn’t speak at all, their faces all forcibly held in calm facades. They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto the starting platform, a massive yellow arrow pointing forwards and under a metal track that shot upwards, almost like a rollercoaster.

There was a series of lights along the edge of the platform; currently, all were red.

“Here we go! Round one!” Present Mic cheered, “Once all the lights are green, you better hoof it!”

I took my place on the marked area and folded my arms; my sand orbs were already positioned at each of the starting gates. The lights continued to slowly tick green, and I couldn’t help but notice the girl who had spoken up before—Setsuna, was falling apart. Not transforming into the sand like I did, but seemingly splitting into a multitude of smaller pieces that were all hovering in the air.

How fascinating; it must have worked in the same unknown method that my own quirk did. When I turned to sand, specifically my head or my organs, they somehow all continued to work as if they were still connected. The fact that Setsuna wasn’t currently dying of asphyxiation, bleeding to death, or paralyzed meant that her own quirk was somehow keeping them linked remotely.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be focused on the test?” Setsuna smirked, “Instead of checking me out?”

I stared at her for a moment, curiously.

“I apologize for staring; our quirks have some similarities,” I said quietly, turning back to check on the lights.

“Sure, you were!” Setsuna laughed and then burst forward in a multitude of pieces as all of the lights turned green.

I watched as Setsuna immediately took the lead, flying above the pathway, and the other four sprinted after her in a failed attempt to catch up.

“Uh! Number Sixty-Nine?” Present Mic called curiously, “You going to start any time soon?”

I fell apart before reforming at the first gate, where my first sand marker had been waiting and then stepped through the first checkpoint.

The treetops were bushy and green, almost impossible to see where the branches were, but the thick trunks were easily visible if you only looked down. I burst forward into a cloud of sand and surged across the distance before reforming on the other side.

I stepped through the exit gate before reforming at the next zone, this time the base of the artificially created mountain. There was a yellow arrow painted on the side pointing directly upwards, and a series of handholds littered the walls all the way to the top.

I stepped through the checkpoint and dispersed again, spiraling upwards before reforming on the platform at the top and strolling through the gate. There was no point in skipping the next pathway, as it was barely twenty meters until the next checkpoint.

I walked to it, stepped over the threshold, before dispersing again, and burst forward following the four long bridges to the exit gate. The wind was pretty bad up here, but not enough to be a problem, and I made it across with no issues. My solution to both the fourth and fifth obstacles was identical, flying straight over them and exiting through the checkpoints.

I reformed at the finish line and stepped over it, noting that the rest of the class was staring at me from the top of the stairs. I made my way to the top and retook my previous spot in the group.

“Well, damn.” Present Mic said honestly, shocked. “That’s the fastest time I’ve ever seen.”

“Um, how are you finished already?” A girl near the back said, frowning, “Did you do any of the obstacles or go through any of the checkpoints? Isn’t that cheating?”

Nothing I’d done in the test had gone against any of the listed rules; I’d passed through every checkpoint, I’d even crossed over the zones to make sure I didn’t get any backlash for not doing them.

“No, no! Using your quirk is both expected and encouraged.” Present Mic assured them, “Did you go through all of the checkpoints—uh will we be able to see you pass through the checkpoints on the camera feed?”

The fact that he had to ask suggested that the camera feeds were going to be reviewed at a later date, or at the very least Present Mic wasn’t in constant contact with whoever was judging them.

“Yes,” I confirmed quietly. “I was visible when I passed through the checkpoints.”

“Woooooo, yeah!” Present Mic shouted at the top of his lungs, scaring the entire group half to death. “This is getting me fired up! Who else has something like that up to their sleeves?! I want to see it! You guys better bring you’re A-game!”

The girl in the back seemed upset, although I couldn’t understand why.

She seemed to expect me to perform the task slower? If she had gone first, I would not have had a problem with her completing it in the same amount of time. It’s what they were expected to do; complete the obstacle course in the fastest time possible.

I tried to picture what she had seen from her point of view.

I looked down at the platform below and imagined what it would have looked like had I still been standing there—The others had all runoff or flown in Setsuna’s case. I had simply stood still for maybe twenty seconds, then I dispersed.

Present Mic had asked if I was visible to the cameras while passing through the checkpoints, which must have meant that he didn’t know what my quirk was either—Did they think my quirk was invisibility?

I hadn’t left any sand behind, so that might have been what they had assumed—That I had simply gone invisible and waited a few minutes before walking over to the finish line and becoming visible again?

I supposed it didn’t matter now, I would probably never see the girl again, and the teacher would find out what my quirk actually was if he ended up reviewing the footage.

Setsuna arrived about twenty minutes later, panting for breath, with a massive grin on her face, no longer in her split from; keeping it up for so long must have been draining her stamina. The look on her face when she saw me standing at the front of the group was fascinating.

“I came second!?” Setsuna said, surprised. “I didn’t even see you pass me.”

I didn’t particularly want a reputation as someone who passed the exam in a sneaky or underhanded way, but I wasn’t willing to slow down either. I had better move to stop that perspective from spreading.

From exactly one exchange with her, I couldn’t exactly predict how she would react. People tended to follow the same general patterns, although there were enough exceptions that I’d been caught out before. If someone was generally willing to make a joke at your expense, within minutes of meeting you for the first time, it pointed towards a certain level of confidence and comfortability in themselves—it also tended to mean that you could get away with making a similar joke.

Setsuna had made a joke at my expense earlier, so perhaps I could start there.

“Sorry, Setsuna.” I said, smiling blandly, “Maybe I’ll slow down next time, and you can check me out.”

Setsuna laughed, and her reaction joined the ever-growing pattern, that was my understanding.

“Oof, I supposed I deserved that one,” Setsuna smirked. “What’s your name anyway?”

“My name is Hisoka,” I said simply, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Interview Room, U.A High School, 3:27 PM

January 17th, 2149.

The door opened barely a minute since he had sat down, and he didn’t need to turn his head to watch as the culprit stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Higawara! I am Nezu, the Principle of U.A High school.” Nezu said pleasantly, rounding the table. “I’ll be the one conducting your interview today, and I must say it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Nezu wasn’t the strangest person he had seen, but he definitely stood out. Short, covered in white fur, a long thin tail, and wearing a black waistcoat. A single large scar ran down his right eye; whatever had done it had miraculously left the eye itself untouched.

“Good afternoon, Principal Nezu.” I said evenly, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

Nezu carefully climbed up onto the chair opposite him, taking his time and not looking at all like he was uncomfortable. He patted himself down methodically before nodding and turning back to smile at me.

I spoke up before he could; there likely wouldn’t be a chance to ask the question once the interview had begun, and asking afterward wouldn’t be ideal.

“Is it normal for the Principal to be the one conducting the recommendation exam interviews?” I asked simply, “The information package suggested it would be an acting teacher.”

Nezu’s smile didn’t move, and he placed his paws on the table in front of him, still looking completely at ease.

“Not at all,” Nezu said pleasantly, “Most often, it is the homeroom teachers for each class that conduct the interviews, but I wanted to conduct this one personally.”

Nezu didn’t elaborate on the reasoning of why he had wanted to specifically meet with me, something that was highly unusual, given that neither of us had ever interacted before. The bait was so obvious that I just nodded and accepted his answer; he wanted me to ask why.

“I understand,” I said, smiling blandly.

There was a pause in the conversation as we both studied each other, and then Nezu’s smile grew.

“Fantastic!” Nezu said pleasantly, “Now, I’ve spoken to each of those who have recommended you Mr. Higawara, and they were all very forthright as to why—I’ll admit that I’ve seen the footage of the incident at Pasana Middle School as well—It was quite the spectacle!”

The entire statement had been said as if it was a compliment, but the words were completely neutral. I remembered my first appointment after I’d gotten my quirk, years ago now, where the woman had raised her voice in pitch every time she spoke to me, but not to Hayami. I hadn’t known what it had meant at the time, and Hayami’s explanation had been an awkward one.

Nezu was evidently doing something similar, he was putting the right tone of voice, the right pitch, and choosing his words carefully enough that it wasn’t outright obvious, but he clearly wasn’t praising me for it, despite what it sounded like. It was probably a test of whether I had learned anything from the event back then or an attempt to better gauge my personality.

“I do not regret protecting my classmates or Mr. Rin.” I said blandly, “I do wish I had stayed inside to do so, I broke the law by getting involved beyond defending myself, and it was reckless of me.”

The safe answer, showcasing that I understood that what I had done was wrong but that I still had the will to protect those in need.

“A very mature response,” Nezu said pleasantly, “You are not the first to be recommended under such circumstances, nor the first to act in the heat of the moment—that’s why we have schools like this one, to teach those to develop the skills needed to control themselves under difficult situations.”

I just nodded; the slight tone of condescension had retreated a little.

“Why did you want to become a hero?” Nezu asked pleasantly.

“To stop bad things from happening to good people,” I said intently, watching him. “To stop bad people from hurting innocents, to make the world better.”

To find Nanami. To find the ones who took Nanami, to find the ones who killed Hiroshi and Kana. To help Nanami save the world.

“A noble goal,” Nezu said pleased, “You certainly seem to have the disposition needed, and judging by the way you managed to stop a dangerous villain—effectively on your own—you possess the skills to do so, even if you are still completely untrained and unqualified.”

I nodded in agreement, letting the jab at the end wash off me. Nezu’s smile grew again, and he clapped his paws together.

“It’s standard practice to review the files of applicants, and those who are recommended, so I’ve gone to the liberty of reading yours,” Nezu said smiling, “You had some serious learning difficulties as a child, but your work has improved consistently since then, to rest at the top of your classes. Quite a remarkable achievement, what do you put this down too?”

Persistence and strength.

Saijin and Hayami. Nanami, Hiroshi, Kana. Revenge—and the motivation it brought with it. Constant studying, reading, and researching. Spending hours every night trying to divine the reasons people did what they did and working out how to use it to my advantage.

“Cheating,” I said, smiling blandly, and Nezu laughed. “No, I wanted to improve myself; I didn’t like being the one who was always last, the one that didn’t understand, so I worked to change that, and I like to think that I have succeeded, for the most part.”

Nezu nodded in agreement, still maintaining his solid mask of pleasantness.

“There was quite an interesting story linked to your first year at school, and a woman named Sarada, along with her son.” Nezu said, smiling, “Do you still find yourself having trouble relating to others?”

Did I still find myself solving interpersonal problems by breaking people—that was what he was actually asking. I’d learned a lot from Haru and the consequences of acting without thinking, but if there was one thing I could wipe any trace of from the face of the earth, it would have been that.

Almost a decade later, and I was still dealing with it.

“I didn’t understand how to deal with people then,” I admitted, “I was still learning how I was supposed to act and what was expected of me from others. I’ve grown a lot since then; I solve any problems I encounter with words now.”

Nezu nodded again, smile unchanged.

I was, at this point, very used to observing the reactions of the people I was speaking to and attempting to understand what they were feeling, and they tended to go through a litany of different expressions over the course of a conversation. While Nezu didn’t look exactly like a standard human, he did have all the features associated with them, he spoke like a human, he smiled like a human, his facial expressions were easy to see.

They hadn’t changed since he’d stepped into the room, simply a smile that leveled out when he received an expected response and grew when he received an unexpected response. Even the laugh the man had allowed hadn’t had anything substantial behind it, just the noise and no genuine amusement that I could detect.

I was beginning to suspect that we had a lot more in common then I had first realized, that or the initial note of condescension I’d detected earlier was an indication that the man was playing on another level entirely—mimicking my own affect in an attempt to have me come to that conclusion.

“Well, this has been quite an interesting interview! I think I will have to start coming to these more often,” Nezu said pleased, “Thank you for being honest with me, Mr. Higawara.”

No indication of whether I had passed this portion of the enrolment process or if I should start preparing for the standard exams.

“Thank you for having me,” I said blandly. “I enjoyed myself, as well.”

Nezu’s smile grew again.

“The teachers will review the tests, and the acceptance or declination will reach you a week from now,” Nezu said pleasantly, “I wish you the best of luck—now, I’m sure you have better things to do than sit around in this room any longer—Off you go, Mr. Higawara.”

I stood up at his dismissal and nodded.

“Goodbye, Principle Nezu,” I said simply.

Hayami’s Home, Musutafu, 8:37 AM

January 27th, 2149.

I headed outside after I spotted the mailman making his delivery and took the stack of mail back to the house. I could already tell by the weight of the pile that something solid was inside one of the envelopes—a circular disk of some sort.

Hayami was drinking coffee at the kitchen table when I stepped back inside, her glasses dangling on the end of her nose as she scrolled through her phone. She looked worried at the sight of the mail, and I couldn’t help but study her curiously.

Hayami was the one who seemed most nervous about my test results; I hadn’t been able to pin down why that was exactly. It could have been that she was looking forward to having her long-missed freedom to roam back once I was living near the school, or it could have been that she was worried about my reaction should I have failed and been rejected.

I had better find out now than rather than put her through any additional stress.

“My acceptance letter has arrived,” I said pleasantly, separating the white envelope with the red wax seal from the others.

“Really?” Hayami said nervously, “Well—are you going to open it?”

I nodded and broke the seal; I retrieved the metal disc, a device of some kind, possibly a recorded message—there was also a letter with it, but when I placed the disc down on the table it sparked to life—A projection flashed into existence, partially faded in the bright room, and mostly transparent.

“I am here!” All Mights grinning face appeared on the screen.

There was an elaborate backdrop behind him, sparkling in the faded light, and the man was wearing a tailored golden business suit instead of his usual costume.

“I have not come to this city solely to combat crime, as you might have thought!” All Might said cheerfully, “I have an alternative motive! You are looking at the newest, U.A faculty member!”

“All Might is going to become a teacher?” Hayami said, astonished, “There’s been nothing in the news about this!”

“You have passed the written exam with perfect scores and completed the Obstacle course with a record-breaking time!” All Might said cheerfully. “These are both fantastic achievements, Mr. Higawara! Well done!”

“He said your name Hisoka! Wait!” Hayami said, shocked, “You didn’t tell me you did that well! You said you thought you passed. Do you have any idea how worried I was!?”

I didn’t have the chance to respond before the recording continued its message.

“Welcome to U.A! Mr. Higawara!” All Might grinned brightly, teeth sparkling before he held his hand out, fingers splayed wide. “This is your hero academia!”

“You did it, Hisoka!” Hayami cheered, capturing him in a hug. “You got in!”

The projection froze for a moment before flicking off, its message completed; I was one step closer to finding Nanami.

I smiled.