First message

The training field was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of the wind and the shifting of nervous feet on the dirt. The sun hung high above Class 1-A, casting long shadows as they stood in a loose semi-circle around their homeroom teacher.

Shota Aizawa, also known as Eraserhead, stood before them, his ever-present exhaustion evident in his posture. Yet, his sharp, analytical gaze held no kindness as he regarded the group of fresh-faced students.

"A Quirk Assessment Test on the first day?" many had thought, but none dared to question him outright.

They had all learned one thing quickly: Aizawa wasn’t the type of teacher who held hands.

He held up a small, white baseball, his expression unreadable. "Middle school P.E. was all about standard physical tests," he said. "But normal parameters don’t apply to those training to be Pro Heroes. Your strength, speed, and endurance are determined by how well you use your Quirk."

He turned his gaze to one student. "Bakugo, step forward."

Katsuki Bakugo cracked his knuckles, stepping up to the designated throwing circle with a cocky smirk. "Heh. Finally, something fun."

Aizawa gestured toward him with the ball. "You got the best record in junior high for the softball throw, correct?"

"Yeah," Bakugo scoffed. "67 meters. Without my Quirk."

"Good. Now do it with your Quirk."

Bakugo’s grin widened as he wound his arm back. The moment he released the ball, an explosion erupted from his palm, launching the ball like a missile. It shot through the air at breakneck speed, disappearing into the clouds.

The class barely had time to react before Aizawa glanced at the reading on his device.

705.2 meters.

"Hell yeah!" Bakugo threw his hands in his pockets, his chest puffed out with pride. "That’s what I’m talking about!"

Around him, students murmured in awe, their excitement growing.

"This is awesome!" Kaminari grinned. "We can go all out!"

"Looks like fun," Kirishima added, his eyes gleaming with competitive spirit.

But Aizawa’s expression remained cold. "Fun, huh?" He swept his gaze over them, his voice dropping. "You’re hoping to become Pro Heroes, yet you’re treating this like a game."

The excitement in the air vanished.

The class stiffened as Aizawa’s bandages twitched around his neck.

"Understand this—**this isn’t P.E. class. This is a test. A test that will determine whether or not you have what it takes to remain in U.A.**" His eyes gleamed dangerously as he added, "Whoever ranks last... will be expelled."

Aizawa said bluntly letting his words ring out. Of course he didn’t mean it. He simply wanted them to take this more seriously so I little threat didn’t harm anyone.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Some students paled, their confidence suddenly replaced by anxiety. Others stiffened their resolve, determined to prove themselves.

One by one, they took their turns.

Todoroki’s ball was launched to an incredible distance just from his sheer strength.

Uraraka casually nullified gravity on hers, sending it soaring infinitely into the sky.

Mineta, on the other hand, barely made it past 10 meters.

Then—

"Midoriya. You're up."

Izuku Midoriya inhaled sharply, stepping into the throwing circle.

He clenched the ball in his hand, feeling how small it was compared to the weight of expectation pressing down on him. His mind raced.

"If I don’t use my Quirk, I’ll get a horrible score. If I use it at full power, I’ll break my arm again."

He thought back to his time with All Might. To all the training. To the promise he had made.

"I will become the greatest hero."

His fingers tightened.

A faint golden spark flickered around his fingertips.

"I only need a little... just enough to send the ball flying."

He took a deep breath, his muscles tensing.

"Detroit..."

At the last second, he shifted all the power into one fingertip.

"SMASH!"

A violent gust of wind exploded outward as the ball rocketed into the sky, disappearing beyond sight.

Midoriya’s hand throbbed with searing pain, his index finger already turning purple and swollen, but he clenched his jaw, biting back the agony.

Aizawa checked the device.

705.3 meters.

A fraction further than Bakugo’s.

The class was silent for a beat—then exploded into murmurs.

"Did he just... break his own finger?" Kaminari whispered in disbelief.

Bakugo’s expression twisted with rage. His teeth clenched as he took a step forward, but Aizawa’s voice cut through the tension.

"Next."

Midoriya exhaled sharply, stepping back to cradle his injured hand. He could feel Bakugo’s glare burning into his back.

Then—

"{{user}}, you’re up."

All eyes turned to {{User}} as they stepped forward.

The ball felt cool and smooth in their palm as they took their place in the throwing circle. The previous throws had set a high bar. Bakugo’s power, Uraraka’s zero-gravity trick, and Midoriya’s last-second comeback had built an undeniable pressure.

But this was their turn.

Aizawa watched with calm intensity. "Show me what you’ve got."