everyone stood in a line again. small circle marked the spot.
aizawa held a new ball. "throw it how you like. quirk use is expected."
students mumbled to each other.
"lee."
jura took his place.
no buildup. no posing.
he stepped into the throw and twisted his core hard.
the ball flew. long, clean arc.
no explosion. no light.
462.9 meters.
jura had already walked a few steps back to the group.
his throw was clean. solid. no quirks. no flash. it just worked.
sato leaned toward kirishima. "serious arm on that guy."
kaminari nodded. "didn't even look like he tried."
then aizawa's voice cut in again. sharper this time.
"lee."
jura stopped. turned halfway.
aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly. "do it again."
jura raised an eyebrow. "why?"
aizawa pointed back at the throwing circle. "because you've been holding back the whole test."
some heads turned.
"and i don't like guesswork," aizawa said. "i want to see what your real limit looks like."
jura stood still.
the breeze picked up a little. he blinked once.
then walked back toward the circle.
he rolled his shoulders once. no cracks. no warm-up.
just quiet movement.
"you want a real throw?" he asked.
aizawa nodded once. "yes. now."
jura stepped into the circle again.
held the ball.
closed his eyes.
first gate… open.
heat flushed through his arms. red lines flickered under his skin. faint. fast.
his stance changed slightly. hips looser. weight tighter on the back foot.
then he moved.
one twist.
one clean step.
and he whipped the ball forward like a bullet.
it left his hand with a snap and tore into the air.
the screen beeped late—delayed by speed.
831.4 meters.
no flash. no explosion.
just force.
the group went quiet.
even bakugo frowned a little.
aizawa stared for another second. then scribbled something down.
"thank you," he said. flat.
jura walked back again. didn't look at anyone.
.
.
.
.
the sun was a little higher now. more students were in the shade, sipping water. the test was dragging, but nobody talked much anymore.
aizawa called out again. "midoriya."
izuku looked up.
he walked back toward the circle. each step felt slower than the last.
last test, he thought. i can't blow this.
he took the ball from aizawa. his fingers curled around it.
"full cowl," he whispered. "four percent."
green sparks flared down his arms. his hair lifted slightly from the charge.
he took a step forward.
but the energy vanished.
the sparks died.
gone.
he froze.
"what?" he muttered. "no—"
his knees almost gave out. the weight of his body came back all at once.
he turned his head.
aizawa stood still. no expression. but his hair had lifted. his eyes glowed red.
cold. sharp. locked on izuku.
"you're not using your quirk," aizawa said.
izuku's mouth opened, but no words came out.
someone whispered behind them. "what just happened?"
aizawa stepped closer. "i erased it."
izuku stared at him.
"i knew it," he said quietly. "you're… eraser head."
some students turned.
"the underground hero," izuku said. "i've read about you. low profile, but high results."
aizawa didn't blink. "i saw your punch during the entrance exam."
he crossed his arms.
"you put everything into one move. broke your wrist and forarm doing it."
izuku swallowed hard.
aizawa pointed to him. "that's not strength. that's gambling."
"i—i've been training," izuku said. "i can control it now. a little."
aizawa didn't move. "a little won't save your classmates when you collapse mid-mission."
he looked at the scoreboard.
"you're near the bottom. barely above fail line. and now you've got one throw left."
he lowered his hand. red glow faded. izuku felt his quirk return. sparks flickered again.
aizawa looked him straight in the eyes.
"you've got one chance to prove you belong here."
izuku held the ball.
his fingers dug into it.
his whole body felt tight.
'four percent isn't enough,'he thought. 'this is the last test. if i screw this up, i'm gone.'
but if i use twenty…
he remembered the pain. his arm turning purple. the pop in his elbow. the burning in his bones.
he looked down at the ball.
then at aizawa.
"you said heroes have to fight unfair things," he said.
aizawa raised a brow. "that's right."
izuku nodded once.
"then i'll fight."
he stepped into the circle again.
izuku closed his eyes.
breathed once. deep.
his muscles twitched. the air buzzed around him.
"full cowl," he whispered. "twenty percent."
his arms lit up like wires. green lightning snapped along his back and down his legs. the air warped slightly.
the ball in his hand started to shake.
he locked his wrist tight.
"just one clean throw," he said under his breath. "no breaking bones. no full smash. focus it out."
he stepped back. planted his foot.
his weight shifted. core locked.
he twisted his hips, rotated his shoulder—
and let go.
CRACK.
the ball shot from his hand with a sharp snap. it climbed fast, breaking air as it climbed.
the screen beeped late, just like with jura.
914.3 meters.
the group went silent.
momo tilted her head. "was that twenty percent?"
bakugo stared. eyes narrow.grinding his teeth.
ochaco clapped once, then caught herself.
aizawa didn't move.
he lowered his hand, slid his eraser goggles back into place.
"decent," he said. "you didn't shatter anything this time."
izuku stood inside the circle, breathing hard.
his arms shook a little, but he was still standing.
that's a win, he thought.
jura watched from the back.
he said nothing.
his arms were folded, shoulders still.
but he watched izuku's feet, the throw motion, and the aftershock.
control's getting better, he thought. but he's still jumping levels too fast.
he wasn't judging. just tracking.
if he keeps pushing like that every time he's cornered…
he didn't finish the thought.
aizawa checked his pad one last time.
"that's all of it," he said. "results in five."
he walked off without another word.
students finally started talking again.
"he made it past katsuki," kirishima said.
"how is that kid not broken right now?" denki asked.
ochaco smiled. "he's tougher than he looks."
the group had started to relax. students were chatting. izuku was still standing by the throwing circle, wiping sweat from his face.
then a voice cut through it all.
"you think you're better than me?!"
everyone turned.
bakugo was running straight toward izuku—fast. eyes wide. face twisted.
"you were hiding your damn quirk the whole time?" he shouted. "since when, huh?! you thought you'd wait and make us all look stupid?"
"kacchan—" izuku stepped back.
bakugo didn't stop.
"i should've beaten the truth out of you months ago," he growled. "but this—this is better."
his palms sparked. small pops of heat lit up around his fingers.
he started to charge.
izuku flinched. feet locked.
jura moved.
he sprinted across the dirt fast, cutting straight toward bakugo to intercept.
but before either of them could reach—
snap.
a sharp whip of fabric wrapped around both of them.
tight. fast. clean.
aizawa stood off to the side, hair lifted, scarf extended. his eyes glowed red.
"that's enough."
his voice was flat.
jura tried to shift his weight, but the scarf held firm.
bakugo snarled. "let go of me!"
aizawa stepped forward, scarf line adjusting with barely a flick of his wrist.
"you rush another classmate," he said, "and you're out."
bakugo growled low. his hands sparked again.
aizawa's eyes narrowed.
the sparks died.
"i don't care how talented you are," aizawa said. "i don't keep walking grenades in my class."
jura was breathing hard. not from strain. from instinct.
aizawa looked at him next.
"you too. i know you meant to block, not fight. but don't make me use my quirk again. it dries my eyes out."
his voice sounded more annoyed than angry.
he gave a tug, then let the scarf unravel.
both dropped to the dirt.
aizawa turned. "get cleaned up. rankings in five."
he walked off like nothing had happened.
⸻
izuku finally exhaled.
"…that could've gone worse."
jura didn't answer. just dusted off his sleeves.
bakugo sat on the ground, fists clenched.
nobody said a word to him.
.
.
.
students stood around the results screen. the field was quiet now. some kicked at the dirt. others just watched the board load.
aizawa didn't say anything at first. he held the tablet, one hand in his pocket.
then the rankings appeared.
⸻
quirk apprehension test rankings:
1. momo yaoyorozu
2. shoto todoroki
3. katsuki bakugo
4. jura lee
5. tenya iida
6. fumikage tokoyami
7. mezo shoji
8. mashirao ojiro
9. eijiro kirishima
10. mina ashido
11. ochaco uraraka
12. koji koda
13. rikido sato
14. tsuyu asui
15. yuga aoyama
16. hanta sero
17. denki kaminari
18. kyoka jiro
19. toru hagakure
20. izuku midoriya
⸻
nobody said anything for a few seconds.
izuku stared at the bottom of the list. his name didn't move. it just sat there.
20. midoriya.
his stomach dropped.
ochaco glanced at him. "wait… you got the best throw though."
kirishima frowned. "yeah, but the rest of the test…"
aizawa finally spoke.
"midoriya."
izuku flinched. "yes?"
aizawa looked up, no emotion on his face. "you're not expelled."
several students turned their heads.
"huh?" denki said.
"i thought you said—" jiro started.
aizawa cut her off. "i said it to see how you'd respond under pressure. being a hero isn't about playing it safe. it's about making decisions when things are hard."
he looked at izuku. "you kept going. that's enough for now."
izuku let out a breath. his knees felt loose.
"get changed," aizawa said.
he walked off without another word.
⸻
students broke off into groups.
"man," kirishima muttered, stretching his arms, "i thought he was serious."
"he was serious," jura said, walking past. "he just changed the outcome."
bakugo stood alone. arms crossed. still fuming. didn't say a word.
jura looked at izuku. "you good?"
izuku nodded slowly. "yeah. just tired."
"you held up," jura said. "even with the pressure."
"barely."
"barely counts."
izuku smiled. "thanks."