Changes and Uncertainties
"U.A. High school." Shōta stood before the ostentatious gates to the campus, looking up at the sign above, as other students passed him by. A harsh wind had been blowing this morning, nipping at the part of his face he hadn't buried in his muffler. The other students rushed by him, either urged on by the cold or nervousness.
'Practical Exam Day' A big sign had been posted up on each side of the gate. The day had finally come.
Shōta was now among the four hundred that would take part in the physical skill exam. Out of which only thirty eight will be allowed to pass and enroll in the hero course. This year there were two students -as they had been informed in a letter- who would get in on recommendation. Eliminating the need to partake in any sort of exam.
Again, the wind blew and Shōta pulled his coat tighter around him. He turned around for one last look at the cityscape of Mustafar awash in the light of a crisp January morning and hurried inside.
The spacious auditorium buzzed with the sound of conversation, chairs scraping on the floor, the odd laugh and U.A. personnel loudly coordinating the procedure. Shōta slouched on the hard seat of his folding chair, elbows on his knees. When he sat down on the rusty thing, he had leaned on the back support making it croak in such agony that he preferred sitting uncomfortably to the possibility of the chair collapsing beneath him.
The room was now slowly filling up.
Agitated chatter reverberated against the arched roof.
"What do you think we'll have to do?"
"Will we have to fight?"
"Who will we have to fight?"
"Teachers? Other heroes?"
"Dammit, where's the bathroom?"
"Would this be pure combat prowess that was graded?"
As with most activities in the U.A. Curriculum, only vague information was provided on what the skill test would entail. The letter read: "-and the week after the interviews -should you be allowed to partake- you are required to undertake the practical skill exam, where your heroic capabilities will be put to the test."
Followed by three pages worth of small print detailing what they would and would not be liable to. Ranging from surface wounds to third degree burns, bone fractures, loss of limbs and worse.
Judging by the uniforms, there were students here from all over Tokyo. Shōta recognized among them a group of kids from a Nabooian middle school of which the delinquent scene used to have -and still probably has- beef with Shōta's school's delinquents. He remembered the face of one of the kids. About three months ago he had gotten into a fight with him when he, along with a couple of other brick heads, had jumped Shōta and his friends after school.
He also remembered how the face of that kid looked after Shōta had erased his quirk and punched him so hard he had sent him barreling into a trashcan.
The chair next to Shōta groaned in mortal peril as another kid sat down on it obscuring his line of sight towards the delinquent with his bulky frame. The new student had smooth gray skin and gray hair that was gathered into a neat ponytail behind his perfectly rectangular head. Everything about him was blocky, from his shoes to huge hands that poked out from the sleeves of his uniform sweater.
He met Shōta's gaze with his half lidded eyes and nodded ever so slightly which Shōta reciprocated.
After a couple minutes of U.A. personnel struggling to herd the last few kids onto their seats, the lights dimmed and everybody turned to a stage at the other end of the room. Two great red curtains vanished into the walls and spotlights flashed on, illuminating the center of the stage.
Behind a raised dais stood the rotund principal, his balding head glistening through the oily comb-over. He stood still there for a moment, giving the whole crowd a once-over as if waiting for something. A few silent moments passed before one of the personnel that stood on the sidelines picked up the prompt and started clapping. One by one the other people in the room joined him in his strained enthusiasm and clapped along. Shōta rested his chin on his hands and sighed.
The principal smiled heartily and basked in the applause for a bit longer than he should have before quieting everybody with a casual wave of his hand.
"Welcome everybody," His voice crackled out of the speakers, "As you all know, I am the principal of this school: Kobayashi Futoshi. I hereby welcome you and wish you good luck on the practical exam!" He stepped down, bowing. Again the crowd was silent -Shōta heard someone ask "That's it?"- until the same employee from before had to animate everybody to applaud again. The kid next to Shōta closed his eyes and shook his head as he lazily clapped his angular palms together.
As the room fell silent again and the principal left the stage a familiar man entered from backstage.
The tired looking examiner from Shōta's interview now stood on stage. Hunching over the dais he set a paper cup down on it and sorted a few papers before speaking through the microphone.
"Er... well, again welcome all." He wheezed, "I'm Haraki from the Department of Heroics, educational branch, pleased to meet you all.
As I'm sure, you are all itching to get started but there are a few details that need to be made clear as part of the practical skill exam. Let's see..."
He mumbled for a moment before pressing a button on the dais. A projector that hung off the ceiling sprung to life, projecting a blank rectangle of white on the wall behind Haraki.
"Now which was it..." Another button was pressed, the projector made a precarious clicking sound and the image changed.
It now showed two figures, stylized representations of heroes.
The right one had huge arms and was currently grappling another figure with horns. Above it written in big letters: Villain Enforcement.
The left one had hoses for hands and shielded a woman and a child as it put out a fire. Above it the text read: Rescue and Disaster Response.
"There's been a change in how the school system works. Used to be there were the two above mentioned specialized courses to choose from. However it's the government's assessment that a hero should be able to respond to any situation. Be it rescuing people, minimizing damage from disasters and subduing villains so..."
Click.
The image changed into one figure which protected civilians on his left, had the horned figure under his right foot and held a boulder up with is right hand. "The courses were merged into one."
Muttering broke out among the students and Haraki used the opportunity to take a few gulps from his cup.
"Please," he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his suit jacket, "Quiet down, I know this is a big change. But it is also a necessary one.
"During the infancy of the Department of Heroics this system had done wonders to bring stability to a new society but times have changed."
Click.
The mugshot of a middle aged man with muddy skin appeared on the screen.
"Nerai Kyūsei," Haraki said grimly. "Villain Code: Landslide, or as the news have labeled him: Rescuekiller. A nefarious villain that insidiously staged natural disasters during the monsoon last year to draw out rescue heroes and ambush them whilst they saved people. He managed to hospitalize three heroes before the combat heroes arrived to subdue him. A fast response, but still a regrettable outcome."
Click.
Now the image displayed was that of crumbled buildings, devastated streets with ambulances and people, both standing and lying on the ground.
"Last month: Geonosis ward on the outer rim of Tokyo. A Villain with a mutant type quirk rampaged through a shopping district leveling stores and injuring seventy six people. Combat heroes fought the villain and won but in the process caused even more damage to the surroundings."
Shōta had been ripped from his slumber by the explosion that night. Geonosis was less than a station away from his home. He remembered standing at the living room window with his family, watching the lights in the distance, feeling the tremors as the fight raged on.
"Rescue heroes arrived just in time to suppress a gas explosion and bring the wounded to safety. Again the heroes responded swiftly, but still an outcome that could be averted."
Click.
Back to the image of the multitasking figure.
"Scenarios like these is why the hero courses have merged. Those with less offensive Quirks will be taught how to defend themselves, both through martial training and Quirk development. Those with purely offensive Quirks will be taught situational awareness to minimize damage and potential ways to develop their Quirk for rescue situations. This change is reflected in today's exam.
After we are done here buses will take you to a derelict city-district outside of town."
Click.
A bird's eye view map pf a district flickered on the screen separated by lines into sixteen smaller districts, each with a letter from A to P.
"There you will be divided into groups of twenty five and assigned to a district. The exam lasts for fifteen minutes. You are not allowed to leave your assigned district or fight other students. Breaking any of these rules is grounds for immediate disqualification. Questions?"
Silence.
Haraki took another swig from his cup. Then somebody raised their hand.
"Go ahead."
"Er... you did not specify what we would have to do and what we would be graded on." A girl commented meekly, her voice barely audible in the spacious hall.
"That's right, I didn't."
"Uhm... yes, so... will you do it now?"
"Nope."
Again silence. Then it slowly sunk in and the students simultaneously broke out into loud complaints.
"That's absurd!"
"How are we supposed to know what to do?!"
"What kind of exam is this?!"
"I still haven't found the bathroom!"
Haraki calmly downed the rest of his cup's contents before quieting them.
"Quiet, please be quiet." It took a few more tries until the room shushed. "There's a reason why I'm not going into detail," he said calmly, while behind him the projection changed to the U.A. logo.
"Do you think in the future when you are pursuing or fighting villains, search for and rescue civilians that all facts and parameters will be handed to you on a neat spreadsheet?"
Nobody answered.
"There you have it." He gathered his things. "Despite all that," his voice now took on a gentler tone and Shōta could see a smile stretch across his weary face, "have confidence in yourselves. Your skills and determination have brought you here and there is a hero in each of you. My colleagues and I saw the potential in you. We wouldn't have accepted you after the interviews if it weren't so. Now get out there and surpass yourselves. Good luck." He stepped off the dais and walked two steps before rushing back to the mic.
"Plus Ultra."
Genuine applause thundered through the auditorium as Haraki left the stage. Shōta found himself clapping along with everybody as the ceiling lights brightened and the curtains fell.
The landscape rushed past as the bus motored on, the scenery gradually changing from cityscape to countryside. The AC was set to max, blowing hot, dry air into Shōta's eyes. He turned the regulator a few times to reduce the airflow but screwed off the cap instead which now blew even more air into his face. Every blink felt like sheets of sandpaper grinding against each other. He had gone through two vials of eye-drops.
Pensive silence had taken over the bus, everybody sat silently in their seats, looking out the window or trying to occupy themselves with something. Except the boy next to Shōta who was blasting music through humongous headphones so loud everybody around him could have sung along. He bounced along to the rhythm, his blonde pompadour, stiff as a board, following every motion.
He suddenly stopped, slung off his headphones and pressed the STOP button his cassette player.
The boy's eyes were hidden under a pair of reflective sunglasses, but somehow Shōta knew he was looking at him.
"Yo." he flashed a toothy grin.
Goddammit.
"Yo." Shōta greeted flatly.
"What's up man?" The teen straightened his hairdo where the headphones had been. "They pretty much dropped the bomb on us back there huh?" His voice was clear and crisp and far too loud in the oppressive silence, even over the rumbling of the motor.
"Mhm."
"I'm gettin strange vibes from this man. The disclaimer about injuries, the system change and now we're headin into an exam we don't know jack about."
"Maybe that's the point though." Shōta answered, hoping to end this conversation as suddenly as it had started.
"How so?"
"Catch us unprepared, see how we react, adapt, improvise, overcome."
"Hmm..." The blonde knitted his immaculate thin brows. Then suddenly jumped up. "AWWW YEAAAH!"
Startled, everybody covered their ears. The bus veered off course for a second, the bus driver struggling to regain control.
"Student 134 sit down this instant and cease your yelling!" A female staff member scolded from the front. "And you," she pointed at Shōta, "student 103, lower your volume when you talk."
"I didn't talk though-" The staff was having none of it, she shot them a glare before turning back again.
"Ouuuh baby I dig that." Seems the loudmouth wasn't having any of it either. He continued as if he hadn't heard the woman. Maybe he hadn't. Shōta's ears were still ringing.
"I dig it." He repeated, quieter this time. "Reaaaaact." he weaved from side to side. "Adaaaaapt." His left arm made a waving motion that passed through his shoulders to his right arm and back. "Overcooooome. Ha! Ha!" he punched the air two times.
Shōta cursed his luck that had sat him next to this annoying boy, he cursed the broken AC and he cursed the itching in his eyes that ground through his skull.
"I can roll with that. Name's Yamada by the way. Yamada Hizashi." He slid his glasses down ,so that his green eyes looked directly into Shōta's, and extended his hand.
"Aizawa Shōta." He shook his hand firmly.
"We're in the same district Shōta. P for Pasión! El fuego!" He slid the glasses back up catching the light on them.
"We're friends now but don't expect any help from me compañero. The law of the jungle applies here." Hizashi smiled brazenly.
"Don't expect any from me either." Shōta scoffed.
Yamada laughed. "DUDE! I'M PUMPED NOW!"
The bus swivelled again. "STUDENT 134!"
Shōta gazed out the window. Friends now huh? He was an annoying loudmouth but, Shōta had to admit, he had gotten him 'pumped' too.
In the distance, the concrete forest loomed closer with each second.
Finally. Shōta stepped off the bus and stretched his weary limbs, Yamada following shortly after.
"-and out of all of them, Mangy Musashi's my favorite . When he slaps that bass... Hooooo baby, I feel like he's slappin my soul. I feel his music, bro. I really do."
"Sure." Shōta rubbed his eyes. For the rest of the ride, Yamada had held a one sided conversation with Shōta about his favorite bands, genres, singers, instruments. Everything.
The female staff member was completely beside herself. For two hours she had tried to shut him up and for two hours she had utterly failed. She was now slumped against the back of the drivers seat. Completely drained.
Other staff members awaited them and led the group of twenty five to the gate of Sub district P. Behind it towered buildings, some in relatively good repair, some completely dilapidated and other still construction sites. All abandoned though, still and lifeless like a concrete cemetery.
A car then rushed towards them at breakneck speed, tires screeching as it drifted to a halt a couple of meters away from the kids.
From the driver's side emerged a hulking man, broad shouldered and muscled. His navy blue suit straining with every movement. A bushy mane of dark brown hair flowed from around his furred face and neck. He smelled the air with his leathery dark snout, whiskers perking up as he laid his golden eyes on the group of examinees. From the other door a frazzled looking young woman in a suit jacket and pencil skirt stepped out and followed him on wobbly knees.
"Come on Fuzaki, stand straight!" He slapped her back with a meaty paw, nearly toppling her over. "Skills like a race driver! I told you we had time for breakfast. Got us here in time."
"Y-y-yes senpai, stellar driving senpai- urp!" She dry heaved, took a deep breath and with teary eyes straightened her back and puffed up her chest.
"Hello students!" he rumbled. "My name is Shishigo Tsumetaro, teacher at this school and pro hero under the code Braveclaw."
"Fuzaki Shiroto." Now a bit steadier on her feet, the young woman bowed. Braveclaw nudged her with his elbow. "Huh? Ah! Yes, assistant teacher at the U.A. Department of Management and alumnus of that department."
"So," he rested his hands on his hips, "I believe Haraki-san filled you in on all the details."
"He didn't though..." the group of kids collectively sighed.
Braveclaw roared with laughter, slapping Fuzaki on the shoulder who winced.
"Me and assistant teacher Fuzaki -along with the rest of the faculty and a few people from the Department of Heroics- will be watching and grading you from the transmission room."
The crowd stirred uncomfortably.
"I see a lot of good faces today here." he smiled, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth.
"Senpai," Fuzaki mumbled and Braveclaw crouched down so she could whisper in his ear.
"All right," He stood up straight. "The exam is about to begin."
Shōta had been calm even faced with the changes and uncertainties, but now his heart started beating faster. He clenched his fists and breathed deep.
Suddenly, from all around them a voice blared.
TEN
"Now, remember Students!" Braveclaw shouted.
NINE
"You are here because you want to become heroes!"
EIGHT
"Nothing but your best is expected!"
SEVEN
"Know your limits!"
SIX
"And shatter them!"
FIVE
"Reach out to the unreachable!"
FOUR
"Attain the unattainable!"
Shōta's heart was now slamming against his rib cage, he looked to Yamada who nodded at him with a shaky smile and Shōta nodded back.
THREE
"Break the unbreakable!"
TWO
"Go beyond!"
ONE
"PLUS ULTRAAAAA!"
Braveclaw's beastly roar was accompanied by the booming sound of a fog horn. Everybody was frozen in the silent second that followed.
Shōta felt his heart stop.
Breath catching in his throat.
The gates slammed open.
Light above flashing green.
GO
A/N: Thanks for reading! And thank you to those who favorited, followed and reviewed. I appreaciate it very much!
Many thanks go out to rubyxblade for proofreading and editing!
