Hello hello. This isn't an update with the cast reveals but more one to give not only a hint to how Zenshi's entrance exam will go, but also a bit of a look at my own character and his Quirk. Subs still close on March 17, but I'm getting a lot of amazing subs that is gonna make choosing the final cast difficult, for sure!


01 - Preparations

A knock on her door first thing in the morning, just a day after the second- and third-years had begun bringing their things to their new dorms, was something Skathi found a surprise. She sipped at her coffee, pen frozen on the paperwork in front of her as the door opened slowly. One eye peeked in, wide and brown and locking on her in an instant; and then the door was opened in full, Class 3-A's representative giving her a sheepish smile.

Skathi set down her mug and began to welcome the student, but paused midway through her name once she noticed the telltale sign of Quirk usage in her appearance. Instead of the usual pink hair and heterochromia—one eye white and one eye brown—Amai Ichigo had only brunette hair and chocolate eyes.

"What's this?" Skathi said instead, gesturing to Ichigo with the pen. Ichigo ran a hand through her short hair and let out a nervous laugh.

"I kinda had too much stuff to do back in the dorm, but I also had this really neat idea I wanted to tell you before the entrance exam was solidified." Ichigo winked, suddenly no longer sheepish. No, that was the smug expression of someone who got to have their cake and eat it. "I drew straws and Chocolate won."

"Ah." Skathi nodded in understanding. That certainly made sense.

Amai Ichigo - Quirk: Duplication
Ichigo can split herself into three Ichigos, each one coordinated as pink, white and brown that are fittingly named Strawberry, Vanilla and Chocolate. Whenever she splits, she draws straws with herself to see who gets to undertake a more fun task.

"Anyone else with you?" Skathi went on. Ichigo shook her head as she shut the door behind her. She wasted no time settling into one of the chairs in front of Skathi's desk. "Too busy?"

"They knew you'd be sweeter on me."

Skathi let out a short, dubious grunt. If anything was to be learned from teaching Heroics in this school, it was that Amai Ichigo always got impatient once plans were made. If she weren't so capable, able to be in three places at once quite literally, Skathi would question why her peers would vote her as class president three years in a row. They hadn't even waited until classes officially started to declare her again this year.

However, if Ichigo was too excited to simply wait for the whole group of students she'd been discussing her idea with, then at least Skathi knew it was an idea worth listening to. Maybe not first thing in the morning, right after the dorm's started being filled with returning students, but Skathi digressed.

"Shoot," she said. Ichigo beamed at the woman.

"So almost everyone had trouble getting their parents to let them come back this year," Ichigo said, and then amended, "in 3-A, at least. And there's been non-stop talk about whether or not it's safe to be in our school right now."

Skathi gave her a dry look that screamed how aware she was of those facts. Ichigo waved a hand dismissively.

"Calm down, Headmaster. A few of us were up brainstorming last night how to convince everyone that Zenshi's still safe, especially with the teamwork aspect, and then it hit me: We show the applicants what they'll become after a bit of fine tuning and teamwork." Ichigo clapped her hands together. "A lot of our training revolves around working together and having each others' backs and all that stuff, and compared to that our entrance exam is sort of a solo gig for new students."

A platinum blonde brow arched high. Scathi actually found herself setting aside her paperwork and leaning forward on her desk, mirroring Ichigo's own eager position. "Go on."

"Back in our first year we did a lot of 'capture the flag' training, and it got me thinking that maybe we should do something similar for the entrance exam. Zenshi is a school founded on teamwork, so why not make the first step an introduction to what we stand for?"

Skathi nodded along. It wasn't a bad idea. Up until now they'd just been using a standard point system based on individual performance, pitting applicants against each other in scavenger hunts to evaluate attention to detail, creativing with their Quirks, and even determination. But what Ichigo was suggesting was definitely in line with what Zenshi did its best to promote once students were chosen.

The girl in front of her cleared her throat then. Skathi met her gaze, finding a more somber, if serious expression on her face.

"We also…" Ichigo bit her lip. Her fingers dug into the hem of her sweater, scrunching it up like a stress ball. "We wanna… make a statement. For them."

"Th—?" Skathi cut herself off before she could even finish. Who else could Ichigo be referring to but their fallen classmates? To Shimeru, the most recent to die so horribly?

Ichigo went on, "The Symbol of Peace was just in our position two decades ago and he still persevered and restored order as best he could. He was fifteen during some of the biggest attacks against UA. I want to remind everyone that we're the same caliber, that we all signed up and trained for a life of danger like Deku did. If he's still up and kicking after all that, then why can't we do the same?

"And it's not like what happens in the exam stays in the exam. D'you know how many people I had hounding me on the street about how I passed? Dozens. If we make ourselves the entrance exam, the applicants who talk the most will spread the news that we're not going to be pushovers."

Skathi couldn't help herself. "And if this provokes the killer? What then?"

There was no hesitation in Ichigo's response: "We make our bed. We lay in it."


"Teruki… Are you sure?"

"Mama, we talked about this. You promised not to talk me out of it, remember? I even got it in writing."

Kousaki Megumi, anxious mother she was, fussed over her son despite his protests. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence as the date for Zenshi's entrance exam approached. It wasn't a surprise, given what the woman learned in her life, but it still left Teru exasperated whenever she kicked up a fuss.

"I'm not, I swear," she insisted. Teru looked up from his breakfast at her, dubious expression on his face. "I just— I wanna know you're certain. I never taught you anything suitable for this. Shushu barely showed you what she picked up in middle school. You're still…"

Teru's eyes darted down to the stump that remained of Megumi's forearm before he could stop himself. The woman sucked in a deep breath. She tucked the limb under her apron, unable to meet his gaze. He knew well enough that this was the reason she fussed so much—the risk of overuse, the risk of doing irreparable damage like his mother and sister had. Teru grew up witnessing those consequences himself, all too aware of what would happen if he messed up even a little.

It still exasperated him to no end. Fifteen years watching consequence after consequence, one would assume he never stopped thinking about them either. But a mother would always worry, it seemed, even when she knew there was no need.

"That's why I picked Zenshi," he said simply. Megumi chewed her lip, fighting to hold back a pout. Teru just resumed eating his breakfast. "They follow a—"

"One of the latest victims was a Zenshi first-year," Megumi pressed on. It'd been a long while since the Zenshi student had been identified, but the fact that Teru still insisted on Zenshi never let the argument die, for lack of better term.

"And I think they'll buff security this year," Teru fired back. Before his mother could try again, he added, "I have it in writing, Mama. Your promise is legally binding. Probably."

Megumi's face scrunched up, a pained look overcoming her. Part of Teru felt bad, seeing her so distraught over this, but he wasn't going to budge on the matter. Megumi and Shushu had made their own mistakes in the past, both for different reasons, and Teru would be damned if he didn't do the same on his own terms. A Quirk like theirs had its limits, and he didn't want to keep its brief use to accessorising and attracting attention. He looked down at his food, pausing mid-bite, before he heaved a sigh and reached out for his mother's other hand still atop the table.

Two pale hands, one with a shimmer of mint green and the other of blue and gold, interlaced their fingers. Despite the strain that came with reaching across the table, half-out of his chair, Teru didn't struggle to keep his grip on his mother's hand.

Megumi looked like she was trying not to complain, not to nag further, as she stared at her son's hand. "Is it so wrong to be scared?" she said instead.

"Of course not," Teru told her. Megumi's blue and gold fingers gripped him tighter. "But you have to remember I'm ready for the responsibility that comes with my choice. And besides," he added, hoping the more playful tone he took on eased her worries, "worst case, I come back home having failed the entrance exam."

Hope blossomed across her face. "Then… Then you'd consider culinary school?"

"Baking," he corrected her. "And there's not much else I'm good enough at, so I may as well."

That was what Megumi needed to hear, it seemed. She rose from her chair and moved to his side of the table, planting a kiss on his forehead and thanking him. Teru watched his mother sit back down and resume eating her breakfast. Ever so slowly, her other arm emerged from the apron and sat comfortably by her plate.

As Teru finished his own meal, dishes stacked and ready to be taken to the sink, Megumi asked him, "Can you wake your sister before you head out? She'll sleep through half the day if she's not up soon."

He gave her a mock salute and took the stairs up to his room two-at-a-time. Waking Shushu was never a problem for Teru. She may have had the boneless ness of a wet noodle every morning, but something like that was nothing to an annoying younger sibling.

And annoying he was of a morning. Teru kicked down the door to their shared room with a loud, "Shu-nee. Breakfast."

From under the large pile of blankets on the bottom bunk came a groan. Teru wasted no time grabbing those blankets and yanking them off the bed entirely. Shushu, curled in a ball on the mattress, let out an indignant shout over the sudden cold air on her. When she didn't immediately get up in search of warmth, Teru began rocking her back and forth.

"Shuuuuuu-nee!" he all but yelled. "If you don't get up, I'll miss my train!"

"Leave me be," she groaned into her pillow. "You don't need me for the exam."

"Mama's orders." He stuck one of his index fingers in his mouth. "Spit in your ear in T-minus ten—"

Like a switch was flipped, Shushu burst out of bed and towered over her brother. Her eyes were wide, her hair scraggly and all over the place; but she was out of bed, just as their mother had asked.

It never got easier, seeing the large, jagged craters along Shushu's arms and neck. Teru forced himself not to stare as they both got dressed. Worse than the scars were the remnants of her last Quirk usage—going on a year now, he counted to himself. The amethysts that had became a permanent part of her skin still glistened softly under the light, and the purple shimmer to her flesh was more intense around them.

Teru was dressed in half of his middle school's uniform, a pair of trousers from the local clothing store replacing the other half. Shushu was already in one of her numerous turtlenecks and staring at the ribbon left on the coat hanger with him. She didn't dare say a word until Teru forwent it entirely, favouring a more casual look to go with his mismatched uniform.

"What's the game plan, hero?" Shushu asked with a yawn as they both left the room. Teru's bag had been packed the night before, ready to take out the door in case he slept in.

Teru shrugged. "Don't break something," he tried.

"That's a start."

He bid his mother and sister goodbye shortly after. Teru stared ahead at the front gate to their house, at the path ahead of him. The door was shut behind him, the silence of the morning all he had to listen to. He was certain by now that Megumi would go back to her worrisome self and direct it at Shushu.

Teru sucked in a deep breath. He looked down at one of his hands, turning it over in front of his face, and let his eyes slide shut.

It was shameful to admit, but he worried too. He worried about proving someone right, about proving Shiichi right. About the words, "You'll just be a cautionary tale," coming to fruition.

But, he thought as he slowly opened his eyes again, Teru was stubborn. He would just have to work smarter rather than harder, overcome the roadblocks with his usual petty stubbornness. It was how he overcame his middle school refusing to change his name, and it was how he overcame his mother's exhausting concerns. He learned from Megumi and Shushu's mistakes—never overestimate your capabilities, never forcibly pry the stones from your skin.

He turned his hand over a final time. Teru watched as the mint shimmer to his skin intensified, as the tips of his fingers slowly turned to a stone of the same colour and spread like a sickness down to his knuckles. Teru watched with a dull expression as his phosphophyllite skin came to a halt at his wrist, his expression barely changing as he tapped each finger against his thumb. Almost as soon as he had tested his mobility, the phosphophyllite began to harden and change colour—to the amethyst that scarred his sister's skin.

Teru learned from their mistakes. Any he made in his own life would at least be an example to subsequent members of their family. The amethyst vanished, his skin returning to its pale mint complexion, and Teru took his first step on his journey to Zenshi Academy.