Chapter Text
In front of Combat Center B, where the practical portion of U.A. High School’s Hero Course entrance exam was taking place, a crowd of teenagers stood almost motionless. The students who had come for the exam were nervous, whispering among themselves, and some even shouted aloud in astonishment at the academy’s scale—after all, there were many such centers, and even just one looked imposing.
A boy with short, tousled blond hair merely snorted disdainfully as he scanned the crowd around him, then turned to the guy standing next to him:
“They’re all weaklings. Look at them—heroes, my ass! They’re barely fit to be used as fucking floor rags!”
The other boy shook his head and pushed his unruly green bangs out of his eyes.
“Kacchan, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble…”
“How dare you speak so disrespectfully about your fellow examinees?!” a loud, stern voice cut in. A nearby brunette adjusted his glasses and strode toward “Kacchan.”
“Here we go again,” the green-haired boy muttered under his breath. He was clearly no stranger to this kind of situation.
“What’s your problem, four-eyes?!” “Kacchan” immediately shot back.
“Show some respect to everyone present!”
“Should I suck everyone off while I’m at it?” the blond sneered, raising his right hand, clearly preparing to attack. “Get lost!”
“Your language is appalling—completely unsuitable for a hero!” the brunette retorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring furiously at the troublemaker.
“No one asked for your opinion!” Kacchan started curling his fingers into a fist.
“All right, begin!” Present Mic announced from the high tower. Seeing no immediate reaction, he urged them on. “Come on, come on! No one’s going to warn you in a real fight!”
“Kacchan, let’s go,” the green-haired boy grabbed his friend by the sleeve and pulled him toward the gates like a towline.
“Damn it!” the blond tried to wrench free but failed, puffing out his cheeks in frustration and glaring like an angry dog ready to pounce as his friend dragged him along. His heels dug deep furrows into the ground.
“You’ve got ten minutes—don’t waste time,” the other reminded him calmly, clearly used to Kacchan’s temperament.
“Izuku!” the blond snapped indignantly.
“Katsuki!” his friend shot back in the same tone. Katsuki growled but turned in the right direction.
“I’ll go on my own. You just watch yourself!”
The brunette who’d witnessed the whole scene looked as if he might breathe fire from sheer rage—like a real dragon. How could anyone behave like that during an exam?! But, unfortunately, the rude boy’s companion was right: time was short, and wasting it on such people would be a hopeless loss.
Izuku brightened up when Katsuki finally stopped fooling around and focused on the task.
“I’ll go right,” he said immediately. “Let’s hope our paths don’t cross until this is over, Kacchan.”
“I’d rather never see your face again, but you won’t leave me alone even at home,” the blond snorted, slamming his fist into his palm to show his impatience for the upcoming trial.
“I still remember how you threw a full-blown tantrum at age five when I locked myself in my room for two hours,” Izuku replied cheerfully—though it still sounded very much like mockery.
“Hey, just make sure you don’t lock yourself in a corner to cry today! I’ll beat you up!” Katsuki yelled, continuing straight through the simulated city while his friend turned right as promised.
“Try it!” Izuku waved and vanished in an instant, sprinting down the artificial city street at incredible speed.
“How did the Bakugo brothers end up in the same exam center?” Shota Aizawa—aka Eraser Head—asked indifferently. He and Present Mic were in a specially equipped observation room with a massive screen showing dozens of live feeds and an electronic spreadsheet listing candidates’ names and scores.
The radio host irritably rubbed the back of his neck, flipping through documents while standing. The other teachers sat in a row, watching the potential students closely and noting their traits.
“They registered at different times! They were given sequential numbers, and the system randomly assigned them—who could’ve known…”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” U.A.’s principal gently remarked. “Next time, we’ll simply account for this possibility. But judging by what I see, each of them is handling things perfectly well on their own.”
“To be honest, there’s no rule against cooperation, but everyone’s focused on themselves and their individual achievements—and rightly so. Heroes mostly work alone; if you’re not capable on your own, you have no place in this profession. Still, it would be interesting to see such a scenario at least once,” Cementoss commented, his eyes fixed on Katsuki Bakugo’s feed. The blond was ferocious—almost feral in combat. His skill and speed were impressive, and his Quirk clearly involved creating explosions. The perfect Quirk for this exam, wasn’t it?
But the examinees were all different, and among them were some rather resourceful ones. No matter how ill-suited a Quirk might seem, everyone found ways to deal with the robots, and most succeeded. The principal went on about the importance of their personal qualities and Quirk potential—a bit excessively, perhaps…
Eraser Head, however, focused on the other brother. Izuku’s sharp gaze locked onto the highest-value robots, plotting a trajectory that included every target. The boy moved so fast that a single burst of momentum might have been enough to break a robot, yet he methodically launched each target into the air with powerful strikes. Other participants were sweating and exhausted, but he showed no signs of fatigue.
“What’s his Quirk, Principal? Full-body enhancement?” Eraser Head finally asked.
“Bakugo Izuku?” Nezu clarified. “According to the documents, his Quirk is called ‘Superhuman Adaptation.’ It is indeed an enhancement—more precisely, proportional amplification of any physical attribute. Strength, speed, reflexes, durability, regeneration—it’s clearly an advanced-generation Quirk. Likely a rare genetic combination; his parents’ Quirks complemented each other well.”
“Why doesn’t it resemble the other brother’s?” Eraser Head turned to Present Mic.
The latter examined Katsuki Bakugo’s application in his hands.
“Explosive Sweat, correct. Nothing similar…” He flipped through a few pages, muttering. “Ah, here it is. Izuku is adopted into the family.”
“The advanced generation is truly remarkable,” Midnight smiled pleasantly.
Aizawa clicked his tongue quietly. He’d have his hands full with this advanced generation.
Soon, the red button was pressed. The enormous robot—declared the most dangerous, worth zero points, and ordered to be avoided—began moving. The ground trembled with each step. Examinees scattered in panic as the massive hands of the robot identified targets and lunged at the teenagers.
Its movements and strikes crushed buildings and pavement alike. Izuku, hidden in the shadow of a tall building the robot hadn’t yet reached, quickly glanced left, trying to estimate where his brother might be. Was he trapped under rubble? No—his reflexes and speed were surely enough to keep him unharmed, and he was probably heading toward Izuku’s location, where the monstrous robot now stood. Could Izuku predict Kacchan’s starting point and route, knowing his exact speed? But the number of robots Katsuki encountered along the way was hard to guess…
Unaware, Izuku began muttering his fragmented thoughts aloud—then snapped to attention at a girl’s scream. Trapped between the giant robot’s fingers high above the ground was a terrified examinee. Izuku frowned and dashed into the street, accelerating with each stride before launching himself powerfully off the ground into the air. His built-up momentum was enough to reach the girl’s hands and yank her free from the robot’s grip. Both began falling, and Izuku wrapped his arms around her to cushion her fall with his own body.
He hissed through clenched teeth as they hit the ground with a loud thud. Towering over them, the robot began toppling toward them—Izuku’s sudden, forceful movement had destabilized it. Suddenly, a flash erupted from the left, and a deafening explosion knocked the robot away from the fallen teens. Izuku exhaled in relief.
Everyone else froze in shock.
“Wanna die, Tanku?!” Katsuki roared as he landed beside him—his explosion had saved them both. “I knew you’d get yourself into some shit!”
“I’m fine, Kacchan. I’m durable enough. But the girl…”
“Get off him already! What are you sitting there for?!” Kacchan snapped. Indeed, she was lying right on top of his brother.
“Sorry,” she blushed and slowly, jerkily, slid off Izuku. She was still trembling from physical strain and nervous exhaustion. “I—I just wanted to say… thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Izuku winced, shaking his head to dispel the sharp pain spreading through his body. He’d definitely bruised his back badly—if not for his Quirk, it could’ve been seriously injurious…
Katsuki opened his mouth to unleash an angry tirade, but a loud signal abruptly announced the exam’s end.
Tenya Iida—who’d earlier clashed with Katsuki over his remarks about other examinees—stared in utter astonishment at this strange trio. Katsuki kept shouting even after the signal, shaking the now-standing Izuku by the shoulders. The girl they’d both saved tried to calm him with quiet words, but he just snapped at her. Then Izuku mumbled something, and word by word it escalated into a three-way argument.
What was that all about? First, the calm green-haired boy took such a reckless risk with his life, then the cynical loudmouth rushed without hesitation to help him and a complete stranger? That’s what heroes should do—but no one expected it from them. They didn’t follow any prescribed rules, yet their instincts ran deeper than anyone could have imagined. What didn’t Iida understand?
All Might chuckled approvingly as he watched the squabbling trio on screen. He’d just found two new candidates.
The principal twitched his hind legs and slid off his chair, flicking his long tail.
“The exam is over, and we have outstanding results. I hope things went just as well at the other combat centers. Now, I must go to an interview. I put in a great deal of effort to interest these two candidates.”
“The ones I pointed out?” Eraser Head frowned.
Underground heroes who’d recently appeared in Japan. They moved chaotically across the country, intervening in various incidents—but always together. One was never seen without the other. Aizawa had glimpsed them only once, and even then just briefly. He’d watched from afar, but both had noticed him the instant he looked their way. Those heroes, vanishing into the shadows afterward, were truly terrifying…
“Precisely. I thought they’d make excellent instructors,” Nezu smiled pleasantly as he headed for the door.
“Huh? Those two?” Hizashi looked at his friend. Aizawa nodded.
“Who did you meet?” Midnight asked, rising from her chair.
“You’ll find out—if you’re lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it,” Eraser Head muttered as he left the room.
“I’m not sure about this idea,” a tall young man said as he used a temporary pass to enter the academy building. Sighing, he ruffled his white hair, which stuck out in every direction, and turned to wait for the other.
An unremarkable gray hoodie, black athletic pants, and chunky-soled sneakers—this wasn’t typical hero attire for missions. Heroes usually sought gear to enhance or compensate for their Quirks, adapting fully to their tasks. But this man needed neither special equipment nor extra attention. Even though no combat was expected today, the principal had mentioned wanting to observe their fighting style up close. Still, he’d simply chosen what was most comfortable—as had his companion, who now approached:
“You know, Killua, we have to try.”
“I know. He clearly hinted he could share any information we need—and that’s our main goal,” the white-haired man frowned, his blue eyes losing all expression. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. A bloodthirsty aura spread around him like thickening fog, so intense that charged energy began swirling in the air. “Still, Gon. This could be a waste of time, and then…”
“Hey,” Gon placed a hand on Killua’s shoulder. Killua blinked, returning to a more human demeanor.
“Sorry, I lost control,” Killua said quickly and turned toward U.A.’s main building, where they were expected. “I keep forgetting how jumpy people are here. Let’s go.”
In the principal’s office, they were greeted by a small creature resembling an anthropomorphic mouse, with white fur, black eyes, and a scar running across its right eye. The odd creature wore a black suit and orange sneakers. Gon and Killua exchanged glances—they were rarely surprised by anything anymore.
“Principal?” Gon spoke up.
“Indeed!” the creature smiled. “I’m Nezu, principal of U.A. High School’s Hero Course. Bear, dog, mouse—I’m none of them and all of them at once. Welcome! Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a sofa in front of a small table bearing a tray with steaming cups of tea. “I took the liberty of preparing some tea. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
The two men exchanged another look and accepted the invitation, sitting down. Nezu watched them closely. The brunette—having correctly guessed his identity—moved with slightly more composure, always seemingly battle-ready. In contrast, the blond appeared casually relaxed, but his gaze betrayed absolute confidence—he truly could enter combat at any moment, and such assurance came only from extensive, likely brutal, experience.
Nezu climbed onto the armchair to the right of the table.
“Freecss Gon,” he said, and the brunette nodded in acknowledgment. “And Zoldyck Killua.” The blond raised an eyebrow at the principal. “It’s a great honor to meet you.”
“I’m curious how you obtained our names,” Zoldyck picked up a cup at random from the tray and offered it to the principal. His look made it clear: better not refuse. Distrustful? Honestly, who would poison heroes…? But Nezu obediently accepted the tea and took a sip.
“You hold Hero Licenses, so you’re in official databases. It’s just extremely difficult to identify you during combat,” the principal replied. “And, Zoldyck-san, it would be foolish of me to attempt poisoning you—no need for such tests.”
“You probably couldn’t anyway,” the blond replied smugly, snorting. “But call me paranoid—I’m always on guard.”
“We rarely stay in one place. You’re lucky to have caught us before we left,” Freecss added, sipping his tea. “That surprised us more. Did you use some kind of tracking Quirk?”
“No, mine is high intelligence—and that was sufficient. Frankly, I was amazed by your incredible efficiency in neutralizing villains. From what I’ve learned, it’s not really tied to your Quirks but rather to your skills, fighting style, and mindset,” Nezu explained, taking another sip. Zoldyck was still sniffing his tea and tasting it with the tip of his tongue. Dissatisfied, he reached for the sugar bowl. “That impresses me greatly. I’d very much like my Hero Course students to learn something valuable from you—something no one else could teach them.”
“Teach?” Zoldyck snorted, dropping a fifth sugar cube into his cup. His tone remained careless. “You think what we have can be safely taught?”
“Nezu-san,” Freecss shook his head. “If you’ve observed our work, you’ve seen how we leave villains. The police are always so horrified each time that we half-expect someone to be dead. Honestly, we come from a place far less civilized than yours—somewhere without laws or heroes like your streets are filled with. People here feel safe, but we learned survival. To teach others that, we’d have to put them in the same situation.”
“We had teachers, but their methods would be called torture here,” Zoldyck shrugged. “Are you sure you want to subject your students to that?”
“I don’t want them tortured by villains,” Nezu closed his eyes. Gon and Killua exchanged glances. “About seventy years ago, global violence levels began declining, and with the rise of All Might, they plummeted—but now, as Quirks improve with each generation, violence is rising again. We know violence is wrong; we’re unaccustomed to it. But criminals aren’t bound by such thinking, and Quirks only give them more freedom. Villains who sow chaos just because they enjoy it—will they ever have limits? Today’s pro heroes are trained to save others, but how will they do that if they can’t even save themselves from such monsters? These are the questions I asked myself until I learned of you. Your survival instincts are extraordinary. I understand they came at a price—but that doesn’t deter me.”
“If we imagine we agree,” Gon said firmly, furrowing his brows and interlacing his fingers. His empty cup sat before him on the table. “You mentioned having an extensive database you could share.”
“Correct. I tried to understand your motives. Typical pro hero motivations don’t apply to you. You’re always tense, moving across the country as if systematically searching for something, and villain encounters clearly irritate you—they distract you from your goal. You’re looking for someone, and it’s deeply personal.” Nezu finished his tea and set the cup back on the tray. “I can help with that. I don’t need to know exactly who you’re seeking, but if you choose to share, I’ll listen and do everything in my power to earn your trust.”
Freecss and Zoldyck exchanged another glance. A spark passed between them—an instant exchange of accumulated emotions.
“The decision’s yours,” Killua said casually, pouring himself more tea from the small clay teapot.
“We agree,” Gon immediately declared.
“Then I believe we should discuss the terms of this collaboration,” Nezu smiled.