Among Heroes and Telepaths

by Jokes Are Us

Some people wished to disprove those who spat on their dreams; some had legacies they sought uphold; some wished to escape the shadows of their past. Ouka Oyama? He just wants to save people. Funny how simple objectives like that come at the end of a blurry road. Friends and enemies; victories and mistakes; these all litter the path to becoming a Hero. Rated M for Language

1. New Beginnings

After hours of cautious pessimism, I decided to finally post this. Please review, and don't flame. I did my best. It's all any of us can do, and if you don't like it; I don't mind. I appreciate constructive criticism.

On the subject of constructive criticism, I would very much like a beta. I know my writing isn't as cracked up to be as others', but I genuinely want to improve to bring to you a story everyone can enjoy without feeling angsted-out or pessimistic.

Disclaimer: Boku no My Hero of the Academia and all related names and titles belong to their respective owners. Do not sue me, please.

---

He woke up to flickering lights and thought a Villain was attacking.

He shot upright, flinging pillow and sheets in different directions. Sweat flowed freely, pressing cold against his bare skin. His vision started to cloud. The humidity suffocated him.

A voice called through the haze, "Does that mean you're awake?" The flickering stopped. "Get dressed. You have to get going soon." He heard the thud of a single footstep against the floor, followed by rubber scraping against wood finish. A pause. "And, also: open a window so the air clears out."

The pounding of heels dissipated with distance, and he was left alone. No, "Good morning." No encouragement. Wake up and go.

And that was okay. Reality filled him with more than enough excitement to compensate. Blood rushed faster the clearer his head became. Because with that clarity came the memory of what he was supposed to do.

His eyes flitted to the calendar pinned to the wall, to the dates beneath his pin-up of the R-Rated Hero: Midnight. "January 18th," was circled with a big, red marker. Written inside the circle: "U.A. Entrance Exam TODAY!"

He quickly dressed himself in a black uniform, patted down beddiest of the mop of blue on his head, and threw a hoodie over himself to cover it all. He met his reflection's blue orbs in the mirror with his own.

He was trembling with courage. His twitchy face was filled with hope. He flashed pearly whites, and extended his fingers in a peace sign. He maintained a full five seconds before both features drooped halfhearted, vanishing like a dream.

"As long as you can believe in yourself and go beyond your limits - Anyone can be a hero!"

"A true Hero saves people with a smile!"

His fingers subconsciously found their way to his cheeks, massaging the corners of his mouth upward for the mirror. He stretched it to the bottom edges of his eyes, almost seeming maniacal with glee. He could pass for an ordinary person, but the moment he let go of his face, his lips slipped back into what felt like a natural frown.

"You're gonna be late," screamed the voice downstairs.

Ouka flushed and hurried out his bedroom door.

---

It was stuffy in there, and he felt sore from being so cramped. Rattling boxes on a narrow railway; every shudder of the walls made Ouka's heart skip a beat. The mere seconds spent in tunnels were an eternity of darkness. His chest tightened as the world flickered between a suffocating cluster and nothingness.

Trains. Sucked.

Ouka sat in his seat, hugging his backpack to his chest. He crushed the contents under his arms, tighter with each individual wheel tick against the track. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this so much, but the journey was worth the ending. His stomach lurched left, then right with every turn. His fingers drummed impatiently against the seat, nails digging into the worn and graffiti'd upholstery. He tried focusing on some of the latter, but quit after the eighth or ninth squiggly-drawn genitals but sometime before the twentieth racial slur.

Even the bright side started to elude him under the breakfast rising in his throat.

Breathe, He told himself, shutting his eyes tight. Remember to breathe.

Large inhalations forcibly opened his lungs. His knuckles turned white the tighter he clenched his fists. He could hear everyone chattering at the top of their lungs and under their breaths, and the things they don't say.

"God, I hate my boss..."

"-I wish this train wasn't so damned slow-"

"-why do my kids have to be such spoiled brats-"

"-someone just kill me already-"

"Of course I'm on the train where everyone smells like piss-"

He grimaced, pulling his hood down over his head. He shoved Bluetooth earbuds as deep into his ear canal as he could insulate. He distracted his eyes with the bright LEDs of his cellphone, shoving the conflicting and overlapping background noise to the back of his thoughts. The rest of the world ceased to exist, and vast space opened around him. His lungs relaxed. His heart settled into a more tame rhythm. His mind instead focused on the news feed notification that popped up:

"Murder in Kiyashi Ward"

Police officials have announced that Professional Hero Rank #342 Dyna-Gun (Aliases have been withheld and protected according to Hero Public Safety Commission guidelines) was found dead today in the middle of an abandoned construction site-

The story didn't get any happier the further down Ouka's eyes scrolled.

-notable lacerations to his back, likely from a surprise attack. The cause of death was confirmed by autopsy technicians to be a clear stab through Dyna-Gun's aorta. No suspects have been named at this time. This news comes brief days after a similar incident wherein the Slicing Hero: Slash's body was discovered-

Ouka's finger tapped a different article. He didn't care which. Just something more positive.

"Quirk Militarization in Russia?"

Unconfirmed reports have described unlawful Quirk-usage in Syrian militarized zones. Soldiers bearing Russian military identification have linked the government to a number of mass-casualties among civilians and rebel fighters opposing the Desaad regime. This, if proven, explicitly violates Article VI of the Aero K. Accords-

Alright, Ouka decided, tapping his thumb again, how about something less political?

Viral Outbreak live updates: China reports 97 additional deaths, total cases top 2,000-

That is right, I forgot; The news sucks.

Ouka tapped to close the app and switched over to MeTube, whereupon he clicked upon the first video on his Recommended section. A white arrow swirled in a circle over the black screen while Ouka waited. The picture came into focus on a dilapidated public street. Lampposts and cars had been overturned, and a hulking mass of gray, leathery flash gored at moving targets with its face-mounted horn. The image shook with an unsteady camerahand.

Civilians were cowering with their arms over their head, ducking debris and thrown bodies. It seemed imminent that things would turn fatal.

Then, came a laugh. Not an uproarious boast of a laugh, one that belied a sense of security and "mightiness." This laugh was rather ordinary if not unrestrained; clamorous, like someone had said something really funny. The hulking villain's body shook uncontrollably before collapsing on all-fours.

"...And that's the punchline!" An orange glove with brass knuckles crashed into the villain's face. Not just once; a flurry of bright-colored blows beat against leathery hide until some black-and-blue was added to the melancholy grey.

A single figure stood at the end of the skirmish, a green-haired woman (dressed in colors that made Ouka reminisce of a circus or carnival) beaming jovially.

"The fact is, anyone has the power to save someone; but a true Hero does it with a smile on their face!"

Ouka's own lips stretched to imitate the woman's expression. His twitchy, trembling smile could not compare to hers, not with any form of confidence - but she was the Hero he most sought to emulate. She was-

"-the Joke Hero: Ms. Smile, right?"

Ouka snapped back to attention, and his eyes shifted to the taller girl who leaned over his shoulder. She was more focused on the now-paused screen, but Ouka was busy trying to restart his stopped heart. The girl smiled, saying in an upbeat, light tone, "You're into Heroes, too, huh?"

Ouka stared at her, lips lightly parted. He should say something back, he determined. He was going to say something, he was sure. Instead, he shrugged. What was there to say?

"He's a quiet one, huh," She said, though she probably didn't know he could hear.

"Hey?" Her amusement faded into confusion tinged with concern. "You alright, kid?"

Should I say something? Like what? He didn't know this girl. He wasn't particularly interested in conversating with her either, but she wasn't a rude sort.

"Is he the sort who thinks people trying to talk to him are weird?"

"Is he shy?"

There wasn't anything particularly insulting besides, "Maybe he's still a middle-schooler; maybe his parents just told him not to talk to strangers."

Still, nothing he heard indicated she would leave if he continued to ignore her. He gave a begrudging nod. The tension he felt didn't dissipate, and she didn't seem to let up.

"Was there anything particular he likes about her…?"

That was it. The out he needed. Just keep quiet until she got weirded out. He felt her words grow stronger with discomfort.

"He's just staring at me…"

"He's got these creepy vibes."

"Why does he look so familiar?"

He waited for the last question in particular to reach its natural conclusion. It wasn't as if he was famous, but his face wasn't hard to place if one thought back to three years ago. Soon, she would remember why his face was familiar, and then she would politely back away or throw whatever happened to be in her hand at his head - and then politely back away.

"I guess it's hard to really nail down why she's cool." Well, that was what normally happened at any rate. No luck. The girl laughed, indifferent to the inner anxiety Ouka knew she had. "She is pretty out there. That's probably why you kids like her so much."

Ouka wasn't a kid. He was shorter than most boys his age; but damn it, he was just waiting for his growth spurt was all. It wasn't his fault he had his perpetual baby-face! That said, it was easier pretending to be a kid than carrying on the conversation. Let people talk at him, and he could just pretend to listen like kids did while maintaining inner solitude.

"She's not the strongest, but she really knows how to take care of business, and she's really popular among older kids, too. Most of the money she makes goes towards orphanages and public schools, I heard. That's not even getting into…"

And it went on like that. Ouka wasn't sure how, but he was talking to this girl - or, at least, the girl was talking to him. It wasn't as if flight was an option in the cramped boxcar. Such an act would've looked suspicious anyway. Still, it was a fairly pleasant change of pace from the deafening noise before. If she wouldn't leave, at least she could provide white noise to soften his headache.

The time seemed to fly, and the weight that seemed to close around him gradually vanished. His breathing returned to normal. The more he listened to this girl talk about various heroes and feats or generosity, the more his muscles relaxed. His heart eventually stopped cracking his ribs.

"Now arriving at Tatooin Station," rang the announcement over the loudspeaker.

The girl stood from her seat - Ouka hadn't noticed she had sat beside him in the first place - and made for the door. "Well, it's been fun, but this is my stop." She passed Ouka with one final smile before passing through the doors.

Ouka picked up his bag and followed after her. His steps were smaller, but he tended to walk faster to compensate. It took no time to outpace the girl by several feet once they hit station steps. Ouka had quickly found his rhythm, finding the right music in his earbuds to provide peaceful serenity.

"Oh, you get off at this stop, too?"

Ouka turned to his right, noticing the girl from the train walking in sync with him. Her lips were moving, and his earbuds drowned out her words, but he could still hear them the moment before she spoke them. Ouka glanced over to her, paying the slightest of nods.

"Where you heading?"

Ouka answered with a gesture of his hand, pointing towards the horizon, over which towered skyscrapers that looked to almost be made entirely of glass. The stood prominently of even the bustling business district, a monument of grandeur that only cost several million of the taxpayer's money.

"That's," She blinked. "You're also here to take the exam."

Another nod.

"That's great! We can walk to the exam halls together then!"

"-and maybe I can get a word out of you?"

Ouka resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The girl had become more annoying than someone who recognized him; she was the sort who took him as a challenge. The persistent ones were always the most annoying.

So, listening without speaking a word, Ouka traveled beside the girl, whose name he had yet to ask.

---

All people were not born equal…

That is the reason why he chose to become a Hero.

That said, the sight of the building alone already made him feel miles out of his league. He stood before it, humbled as a mouse.

The main building consisted of two colossal towers that reflected the image of the clear-blue sky in their windows. He looked up towards their peaks, at how high they were. They seemed to stretch for meters, and then indefinitely. His vision started to swim. He cast his eyes to the ground before the nausea set in.

Maybe it was a mistake being there. He pulled out his cellphone and tapped on the keys, but paused his trembling thumb above "Dial." His throat twisted to produce a loud, choking noise.

"I'll just be a nuisance." The next train home wouldn't be at the station for another hour, and he couldn't ask his aunt to come get him. He shoved his phone back into his pocket; instead, raising his hands to his face and swatting his cheeks pink. "Get pumped, Ouka!"

Ouka Oyama threw his arms into the air and bellowed a silent roar; halting when he noticed the lingering stares of passers-by. He straightened himself and coughed into his fist.

"I have to pass this exam…"

"How bad it could be?"

"U.A., here I come!"

"The exam is supposed to be impossible. What am I even doing here?"

"All these third-strings will eat my dust!"

"I just have to do my best…"

Ouka clutched his hands over his head, wincing as dozens of thoughts and feelings came crashing down around him at once. They blared even through the soothing melody of Mozart in his ears, so cloistered close together. The hopes and anxieties of everyone around him came flooding in, swallowing his own beneath the avalanche.

Then, a hand on his shoulder snapped him back to reality.

"Hey," Ouka looked at the girl, whose mouth slipped into a concerned frown, "you okay?"

Ouka managed a weak nod.

"Well," The girl didn't look convinced, "I have to go sign-in with my classmates. Maybe I'll see you inside."

Ouka nodded again, and watched her slip away. He somehow felt a little calmer than before. He found the focus to slip away back into his own thoughts.

"Move it, Extra!" His trance was broken by a harsh shoulder shoving past him and the stream of examinees. A boy with puffy, blonde hair shot Ouka a violet gaze that tied his stomach in knots. "You're cluttering my walking space. Either go in or get out."

It was a strange feeling; tangled cords in his stomach that tightened with the muscles in his hands. Ouka didn't have a problem with most people on principle. Even if they gave him nicknames or made jokes at his expense, he would still shrug it off. Just nod and move aside for them.

Not him, though. Ouka decidedly did not want to lose to the boy whose eyes shone a violent light. Ouka heard his heart, and it disgusted him.

As he watched the boy walk away, Ouka realized that he was right - crude, but right; there was no point in hesitating. He would have left if this was not what he wanted; and if he was not going to leave, then that meant he wanted to go in. He wanted to take this exam.

U.A. High School was renowned for having the most stringent Hero Course; so much that the entrance exams were infamous for making or breaking an aspiring hero youth. Ouka wasn't sure if he was ready for that kind of pressure, but he would never know if he didn't try.

That in mind, he took his first steps forward, and entered U.A.'s Exam Halls…

---

After the written exam, the candidates were taken to a massive auditorium and given numbered badges. The desk clerks handed him a tag dubbing him "Candidate #231." He was seated in a section beside other students from his middle school.

Ouka didn't recognize anybody as he entered the room; then again, he would have had to lift his eyes from the ground to see people in the first place. If he tried to recall an actual name, he would spend hours drawing a blank.

Meanwhile, the big-haired Pro-Hero at the the podium, Present-Mic, opened the ceremony with a voice that burst Ouka's eardrums;

"WELCOME TO THE U.A. ENTRANCE EXAMS!" Something warm started trickling out his ear canal. "LEMME HEAR YA SAY HEEYYYY!"

Ouka wasn't sure if anybody responded. His ears rang for the next fifteen minutes. It was with the greatest strain of his senses that he vaguely made out the rules for the practical exam.

Robots. They were fighting robots divided into classes of difficulty with correlating point-values. Points were earned by destroying the robots, and grades were given accordingly. How that was practical; Ouka had no clue. He couldn't quite recall the last time Pro-Heroes had to take down a giant robot army. And, then, there was the giant 0-point robot that was highly dangerous and impossible to defeat.

Ouka knew U.A. had a reputation for insanely difficult Hero Courses, but he felt he was missing the logic and reason for their approach.

He lifted his exposed palm up to eye-level. He had never actually used his Quirk in a real combat situation before. He hadn't wanted to get in trouble. Besides, why would he want to use his power to hurt someone? Villains were one thing, but only a complete tool just lashed out at everyone with violence. He knew how to use his Quirk, came up with ideas for how to fight, but what could he actually do when he entered the field?

I can do this. I just have to keep myself pumped up. Keep that Plus Ultra spirit!

The examinees were broken up into different groups based on their numbers. Those who came in from the same schools were all put in different areas apart from one another. The measure was put in place so classmates could not strategize, Ouka assumed…

-However, that thought bugged him. It surprised him, really, when he noticed.

It happened while he was changing into his track clothes; a sleeveless, red T-shirt with silver sweatpants and tennis shoes. He threw his hoodie on over it, pulling the hood down just above his eyes.

As far as it seemed, examinees could not share credit for destroying the robots. The points went to whomever dealt the finishing blow. He supposed they could take turns destroying robots as they went along, but such a method would have been inefficient and time-consuming. There were a limited number of robots and a large number of examinees. Not enough Hero Course positions to pass every one of them. Their numbers would be culled quickly between the vast number of examinees, leaving few available points between all of them. What would happen if nobody gained enough points? Would everyone really fail? Or was there something else?

Ouka thought about it until he reached the gate entrance he had been assigned to. The wait presented far too much time to think. It was frustrating.

He lowered and bent his legs, stretching his tendons and getting his blood flowing. The crowd around him dispersed into multiple small groups, examinees talking big about their Quirks, making friends, making foes; the usual "Hero" thing. None for Ouka, of course.

Truth be told, now that he was in this for the long swim; he was drowning.

Everyone was so intense. Ouka could feel the world expand around him. He was a small fish in a big ocean filled with hungry beasts. Should I try talking to some of them, He wondered, soothe my nerves with small-talk? Then he realized how stupid that sounded and pushed the thought away.

He raised himself up straight and faced the false cityscape into which he would be released. The unknown of what actually lied beyond the door scared him, but not nearly as much as the idea of failing. It didn't quite push him to retch and choke on it as much.

The sound of a horn broke the vague ruckus they had devolved into. All eyes shifted to the peak of the metal tower overlooking the exam area. A curvaceous, dark-haired woman stepped forward, clothed in a suit thin and light to the point of indecency. Heat filled Ouka's cheeks a light cherry-red color.

His heart pounded with a mix of awe, hormones, and shame as he recognized the face from his calendar.

A more thoughtful part of his mind realized she was his proctor; but Ouka himself froze gawking at the fact it was her.

"Well," She snapped, jarring Ouka from his trance, "What are you waiting for? The exam has started!" The massive double-doors now laid open before the examinees' eyes. "Go!"

Everyone stood around for moments, letting the announcement sink in. They weren't ready. They finished the written exam. They arrived at the gate. They knew what they had to do. But most of them choked.

For Ouka, however, the sound was the flip of a switch at the back of his skull. The air pressed against his back. His feet lifted inches from the ground. With the crack not unlike a cannon, his entire body was thrown forward - almost carried - by an invisible force. Clouds of dust scattered across his opponents, up to the stand Midnight stood on.

Pained chokes and coughs filled the air, everyone searching for the source; but he was long-gone.

His vision narrowed into a kaleidoscope tunnel with a thin dot of clear light at the center. It was the cost any Quirk had when it came to speed. But, if the exam was as explained, it would've been difficult to miss the targets. They were grayish-green blurs twice his size.

They're just robots, Ouka reminded himself, It's okay to let loose!

Sparks danced throughout the wrinkles of his brain. The air in front of him bent under expression of an invisible force. The blurs rotated in-place. They might have detected him. They definitely weren't fast enough to do anything about it.

Ouka felt space shrink back to its original shape. Reality became more detailed. Where Ouka stood, he faced two flattened chunks of metal against the concrete. He waited.

Ouka waited for something to happen. For the machines to explode in a fiery haze. For something to pop out and blast him. He half-expected them to get back up and reform to their pristine shape. None of those things happened. He couldn't wrap his head around it.

He looked around, watching other robots gradually glide into view, but nothing particularly threatening. Ouka, for all his anxieties and fears, never contemplated the idea. He had heard tales of how monstrous U.A. was. He never considered himself in the face of it all. For someone who had never directly fought before, they would never have realized their own strength.

Ouka Oyama possessed an absurdly strong power.

He frowned at the result of his display before turning his focus to the other robots gathering around him.

No time to worry about that. My head-start won't last long. I have to break as many of these things as possible!

And so it was. With the flicker of his thoughts, of electric discharges across his grey matter, he could project telekinetic force through the world around him. With these, numerous machines were crushed. Without coming close, they felt the full weight of an unseeable hammer crash down upon them. He willed the world around him with a sweep of his hand, carving the ground with a powerful shockwave. It threw the robots off their balance, crumpling into smoking heaps one after another when they didn't smash against concrete walls.

Within seconds, the streets were clear except for the four-foot teenager standing amidst the wreckage. No mobs came to replenish their forces. Ouka stared at the havoc, and felt his frown growing deeper and deeper on his face.

If they had been actual people, they might have been injured. He destroyed them quite literally with a thought. What would happen if he used it on a living person? He pushed away the mangled, bloody images that flashed across his blinking eyelids, resisting the shudder riding his shoulders.

Points were points. There was no time to dwell on it. With the area cleared, he prepared to move on. Thunderous marching stuck him in place. His Quirk flared with expectation. Pieces of rubble levitated inches off the ground, the most jagged points floating behind his head. He turned, and almost let loose again.

One of his new "bullets" discharged on its own and zipped through the air, almost cutting a line across the pink of human skin. Ouka had to apply force to knock it off-course from its intended target.

His eyes widened at the small army of examinees, all frozen along an unwitting battle-line. Those who raced into the arena behind him stood, mouths agape at the sheer carnage unleashed upon the machines and their surroundings. One building to Ouka's right chose that moment to unhelpfully collapse on its damage support columns.

One boy was responsible for all of this, and all that boy could think of, the one thought pushing away any intrusions theirs might make was-

Oh crap! Crap! Crap! Ouka realized their displeasure (or thought he did) in an instant. I destroyed so many robots that there weren't enough for everyone else! I'm the worst!

Then, with another thought, he pushed his physical body into the air, over the tops of buildings and the streets between. Far from the anxious or angry thoughts he might have incurred.

It was a careful process; accelerating his body by applying force according to specified vectors on one side, while decelerating with force applied to opposite vectors on the other. It was the only way to avoid the whiplash or injury from air friction. It probably looked like an ordinary flight-type Quirk from anyone who watched from the ground, but Ouka was just as capable of splattering against the concrete if he screwed it up. More than that...

It was really scary! He had to avoid looking down so as to not lose focus. Sure, moving through the air was faster than running through the cluttered streets, but so was riding in a taxi cab; and it was rarer to see a taxi cab dropping from a hundred feet in the air. Not unheard of, but rare.

Ouka settled on a landing spot about a kilometer away, slowing his descent with soft rushes of pressurized air beneath his soles. His shoes clopped haphazardly against the ground, tripping him slightly. He stretched his arms to regain his balance. Once he was solid, he took stock of his surroundings.

He couldn't hear them the way he could other people, but the whir of wheels and grinding of gears was audible even through the concrete walls. He could see some of their forms shambling through the streets.

I should probably stick to the ground from now-on. These machines don't seem to have flight capabilities, so I would have the advantage, but it would make it harder to spot my targets.

On the other hand, he had to also try to stay secluded. He didn't want to accidentally lash out at any humans who happened to be within his radius. He had been in control of that piece of debris, so he managed to avoid hurting someone; but the adrenaline had made it a momentary blur. Too close.

No more public streets, he decided. Even if the city was a simulation, it would be much easier to pick enemies off in small or empty spaces. Ouka ducked into the nearby alleyway, running towards the machine closest to him.

It was twice his size, whirring about on a single wheel - another One-Pointer. Except the whirring didn't belong to the wheel, but to the Gatling guns that were its hands. And they were pointed right at him.

Ouka's heart seized; he tried to move his legs, but they barely twitched.

"Target Lock-On! Murder!"

No!

Ouka's mind exploded outward, away from his body. He braced himself as gunfire rang out. For the pain that would erupt all over his body, striking like a thousand hornets. He would collapse to the ground with a cry, his eyes drifting shut for the last time…

Wait a minute, His eyes shot open again, and he sat upright, raising his arms to his face, I'm not dead!

Ouka looked around himself, at the spent casings that littered the air around him. They hung, suspended with just enough agency to spin and float about. He picked one out of the air and lightly squished it between his thumb and index finger.

Rubber? He immediately felt stupider than the robots blinking angry red lights from their faces. Of course they wouldn't use actual bullets. Get a grip!

He breathed in deeply, swallowing his fear - for there was nothing to fear in this simulation. No one to hurt or be hurt by. It was fake; a game.

He could do this…

I can do this!

The rubber balls in the air started to spin faster. They twisted in-place like dozens of tiny tops, building up kinetic energy without budging.

It's my turn!

Dozens of spheres blurred and then ripped through the space separating them. Spheres that would have been harmless to a person tore through metal joints and ligaments with ease. They exploded as if struck by miniature bombs, falling into more pieces than the number of bullets that pierced them.

Two more points, Ouka didn't realize he had been holding his breath, and that makes...Aw, crap!

He hadn't been keeping track. He destroyed the robots early at the start, but he neglected to account for how many or what score they had. There was also no clue as to how many points were necessary to pass. He could have just been mindlessly wasting time when he should have been moving.

It became harder compared to when he started. The streets swarmed with U.A. hopefuls, and quickly flooded with debris of metal and concrete. Every time Ouka so much as glimpsed another robot, it was dispatched. It was impossible to get in a point edge-wise.

Ouka sprinted through the city-scape, puffing and wheezing after five minutes. He interspersed telekinetic pushes to help himself along, but that strained his brain just as much as his muscles. He weaved through buildings in alleyways, but the population fluctuated with every step he took. There were hundreds, then there were dozens; but every time Ouka got close, the air ripped with cannon fire and explosions.

More rang out as Ouka exited another alleyway. More robot corpses strewn in the streets around him, but fewer examinees. Another explosion burst through the second-floor window of a nearby building.

New ideas for targets ran through Ouka's mind. More people were fighting in city districts than in the simulated parks, alleyways and lots, so the mob mentality would keep them from noticing threats lurking just outside their range of vision - isolated areas where criminals could strike from the shadows. Most people wouldn't have noticed, unless they either knew what to expect or were more perceptive than others; or were extraordinarily lucky, as in Ouka's case.

Ouka crossed into the half-finished construction site, and found more than the bounty he had been seeking.

More robots littered the empty lot; live robots. Already, there were two or three candidates hopping around, destroying them, but the hunting ground was still fresh and, most importantly, sparsely populated. It would be fine as long as he kept his distance from the others. One-Pointers and Two-Pointers were as plentiful as the corpses outside.

Ouka took another deep breath, ignoring the shudders rippling through his lungs. He extended his consciousness as far as it could stretch, almost splitting his skull. Two One-Pointers closed in around him. That suited him just fine. He felt his arms wrap around them without moving, and saw them lift up to ten feet into the air. Twenty feet. Thirty. Good enough.

There were two resounding crashes of metal against metal. The One-Pointers fell from dented steel beams, and splintered against the ground. Wisps of smoke rose from their sparking wires and leaking fluids.

"Alright," Ouka flexed his fingers, "I can keep going-" The hairs on the back of his neck stood stiff-straight. He turned around too slow to counter the Two-Pointer's tail.

The glint of the polished point made his eyes go wide. It was like a scorpion; and its sting was death.

"Look out!" Ouka saw an arm swipe against the stinger, snapping it clean off. The scorpion-esque machine approached slowly. The same arm struck with a tightened fist. The scorpion's head burst under sturdy knuckles, and it collapsed under its own weight.

Ouka wrestled with the stomach-steaming sensation of almost getting shish kabobed. The hand waving in front of his face went unnoticed until he realized he wasn't breathing.

I thought I was really gonna die for a second! Again! The shock wore off, and bile rose up Ouka's throat.

"Oh, good; you're alright." Ouka looked up at his savior, a young man with short-black hair and a smile adorned with jagged teeth. Like a shark, thought an instinctive part of his mind.

Ouka blinked, trying to wipe what must have been an illusion from his eyes. But, no; the boy was still in front of him. He saved me? Ouka's heart rate skyrocketed. He was being rude! He couldn't summon the words, but he stretched his spine as far downward as possible to make his gratitude apparent.

The young man paused for a moment, but broke his mouth into a shark-toothed grin when he realized the intent. "No sweat, man." The young man rubbed the back of his neck. "We're all aiming to become Pro-Heroes; helping someone who needs it should come naturally, right?" He grinned so brightly, that Ouka's heart went back and forth between stop and go.

"A true hero saves people with a smile!"

Ouka nodded quickly, bowing even more vigorously.

"Whoa. It wasn't that big a deal. Don't mention it. Now, if you don't mind, I've got my own points to start making!" The boy ran off and dove right back into the sea of enemies. He fought like a beast possessed, his arms becoming thicker with jagged edges, and those arms tore through the robots as if they were made of styrofoam.

As Ouka stood, brushing himself off, he was again stricken by the fact that he had not bothered to ask the boy's name. Just like with the girl on the train. The thought must have occurred to him, so why didn't he act on it? It was rude and condescending to people who treated him so kindly.

There wasn't much time to think on it. More One and Two-Pointers continued converging from the main streets. Having witnessed the extent of their abilities, Ouka felt a tad bit more prepared.

The robots raised their guns and readied to fire the moment he crossed their paths. But that was dumb. Ouka had a better idea.

He slapped his palm against the open ground and extended his Quirk's range to 8x5 feet. Concrete cracked. Ouka's own arm pulsed with heat around his wrist. He exhaled sharply as that heat started popping between his synapses. He lifted a block twice his size from the new hole in the pavement.

The misshapen rectangle carved in stone glowed briefly and then vanished. It flew across the lot - a stone battering ram propelled at one hundred meters per second through a small army. Robots crumpled and caved, and Ouka had chalked up an additional twelve points by the time the concrete grated to a stop across the ground.

This is, Ouka paused, considering the gravity of what he was about to say, easy.

The strange part was that his Quirk was altogether unimpressive: mere telekinesis, moving an object back and forth with the application of force. It had no real name, but it was his; and that was normally all he had needed to tell people. It never became of particular use before in life. What was the point in using it to pick-up objects when he could walk over and pick them up himself, when he could easily just get up and go get what he wanted for himself? He had never really felt the need to use it outside of practice at the junkyard.

That said, it wasn't as if he never thought about it either. For as long as he wanted to be a Hero, he spent his time thinking. And now, it seemed, that thinking would pay off.

Don't stop. Don't take time to be afraid!

Ouka rushed ahead before the reality could set in and he was paralyzed. As long as his heart kept pumping, he could continue. As long as neither his mind nor his legs locked up, he could continue. As long as he believed in himself, he could continue.

Nothing can go wrong…

-And that was the sort of thought that tipped the delicate balance of "jinxing it." Ouka wasn't normally confident enough to even consider thinking such a thing. He braced for life with a safety helmet, thick clothing, and lots of pain-relievers, but never before had he been in a position where things were just going so right. He was so happy, so exhilarated, that the thought just popped into his mind.

That was why, when the skeleton of a building shuddered with force equivalent to a TNT detonation, Ouka blamed only himself.

He wrote the first quake off as a byproduct of someone else's Quirk destroying another robot in or around the building. The quake repeated. Ouka became acutely aware of the colossal shadow cast over him.

It was too early for the sun to go down, and the shadow extended only meters ahead of him, clashing against a border of sunlight.

That meant the shadow was being cast from behind him. From over the building.

That was all the warning Ouka had to figure it out before a massive fist bucked through the path he had just come from. Metal groaned and un-welded beams came falling from the scaffolds. Steel spears struck the ground like raging thunder. Unsupported floors came crumbling down. Other examinees scrambled and struggled between flight and not being crushed. It was chaos.

Ouka threw up a field around himself, feeling the impact of every few hundred pounds of falling metal and concrete as if they struck against his bones. Dust and debris scattered a thick cloud throughout the entire lot. Ouka kept his head down, eyes shut tight. He covered his mouth and dove into the depths of the dust cloud, ignoring the flecks that stung his eyes.

The quakes grew stronger the closer the abominable machine came. He thought that, at any moment, it would suddenly look down and notice the tiny, little bug ducking the ground by its wheels. And promptly crush it. Ouka swallowed hard and dared not to breathe.

One second. Two seconds. Perhaps it was three? The robot turned from the rubble and continued on its way, through any obstacle in its path; unflinching, uncaring as other voices screamed out.

But it was gone. Ouka was alone.

"Oh God, I'm gonna die!"

"There's no way to beat this thing!"

"This isn't worth it!"

...No, he wasn't alone. He was rarely ever alone, even in his own head. The sound was unbearable. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get out of there. There were other robots to destroy. Robots that posed less risk of crushing him. Somewhere quieter. He reluctantly scrambled to his feet, and made to flee.

Now. Starting now. He thought that, but his feet weren't moving. He considered it for a second before the nausea hit him.

He froze in place. He felt his eyes glaze over. The air gained a sour, salty smell, and his thoughts started to swim. He stumbled. He tried to rub away the swelling heat in his skull, but it was too late. Words that were not his own submerged his consciousness, growing louder than sound passing through his ears.

"Run away...! Run away...!"

"Please, help me!"

"Someone..."

As the fleeing hopefuls clustered together in vain retreat, the panic became more intense. All the blood pumping through his body turned to ice. Pain stabbed between his eyes, and his balance suddenly shifted. He was on the ground, clutching his head.

"I can hear them..." Ouka strained his eyes to blink away the pain and lights. "They are scared..."

His mind briefly flickered to the boy who had saved him earlier.

Was he still inside? Then, his gut churned at his next thought, How many other people might have been in there with him? Four? Five? Machines felt nothing like humans did; the robot could kill someone by accident and not bat an eye-light. Would U.A. be punished? Students had to sign liability waivers, but that all seemed like ceremonial terms and conditions. Ouka hadn't taken it seriously. But accidents happened, even when nobody thought it possible.

It was an adrenaline shot in the arm.

Ouka stood from the ground, more upright than he had been before. Ouka made it back to the main site unscathed. He immediately found other examinees pinned under debris and steel beams, and worked on lifting them of their burden. There were more than one or two surprised faces when they saw Ouka kneeling with hand outstretched.

"Go. Get to safety. If you can walk, try to support those who cannot to the medical station."

Everyone who heard his thoughts were too terrified, stunned, or startled by his telepathy to respond outright; but he heard the assent they spoke to themselves in their heads. He kept going, searching every pile of rubble he could find for fear of finding another victim. When he did, he made sure to find another who could escort them to safety.

Ouka risked reaching further with his thoughts, trying to find anyone else there when it became quieter, but there was almost no response. Almost.

It wasn't a conventional thought. It was more like a scream; a very angry scream. He mistook it for background noise at first. He strained his brain, creating a soft wind that dispersed the dust and gravel in the air. Just enough to restore visibility. He peered in through the arch that remained of the front entrance, and choked at how little was left of the insides.

He glimpsed a pile of rubble shifting in the corner and approached it. One by one, the small boulders lifted into the air by intangible hands until the pile trembled more strongly. He watched as bigger pieces became smaller, lighter pieces. The weight decreased, and the rubble exploded into two upraised fists. A human torso emerged with equal triumph.

A victorious roar ripped free from the dark-haired boy, "I'M FREEEEEEE!" Ouka had to cover his ears to avoid his eardrums bursting.

---

Eijiro Kirishima introduced himself to the boy who unburied him. Seemed like a reasonable thing to do with him just standing there, staring. He might've been weird, but anyone who would put their exam on the backburner to save someone else was the epitome of manliness! Besides, the "quiet, stoic archetype" was one he considered for U.A.

New school, new start, new Kirishima. He was still going over ideas in his head. It might even work for the kid in front of him - that is, if he could grow out of that child-like babyface he was sporting.

"Thanks for the save! You pulled me out of a tight spot there," Kirishima extended his hand to shake, and the kid's eyes lowered to meet it without reaching back. What a weird guy. Kirishima raised his hand behind his head, feigning scratching an itch instead. He chuckled halfheartedly, "We should probably - Where are you going?"

The boy who spoke not a word was already turning and hovering(?) to leave in the same direction as the Zero-Pointer. He budged an inch before Kirishima reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you crazy? It's dangerous that way!"

The boy turned, a sharpness in his eyes that wasn't there a moment before, and then Kirishima felt strange vibrations flood the inside of his head. It wasn't quite like a headache, but it wasn't natural. The vibrations emitted faint pitches that resembled noise somewhat like a human voice. And then he heard the words...

"I'm going to stop that behemoth."

Kirishima looked at him as if something had broken in his brain, which there may very well have been. There was definitely something wrong with Kirishima's. "Are you nuts? That thing is huge! You won't even get any points!"

"I have to try." The boy shot Kirishima a smouldering stare. "That thing could have killed you! The other examinees might not get so lucky."

"Wait-"

"I do not want to hear it's impossible," Mostly because his nerve might run out if he considered what he was actually doing, "I do not want to live with any regrets; I will not standby and watch people get hurt - Not when I can protect them!"

But Kirishima tightened his hold, and pushed out in front of the boy. "I was trying to say, "Count me in"!"

The boy did a double-take. "Really?" It wasn't like he had a plan. Kirishima wasn't too keen they could even beat the damned thing before time ran out. Maybe if he chipped pieces away with his "Hardening" Quirk... "You sure? We really could die." The boy, or the voice Kirishima presumed to be his, sounded really calm about the whole thing. More surprised.

"No worries!" Kirishima raised his hardened fist, grinning madly. "Real Heroes are all about protecting others, and I couldn't call myself a Hero or a man if I walked away again. I don't know if we can beat it, but between my "Hardening" and your…" He politely trailed off.

The boy opened his hand to display it to Kirishima. Three rocks by Kirishima's feet levitated into the air above the boy's palm, circling one another in a simple carousel between his fingers. "My name is Ouka Oyama. My Quirk is "Telekinesis." I can move things with my mind. I can also listen to and speak within other people's minds."

"From the way you took down those One-Pointers earlier, this should be a cinch for you, then. Just flatten that thing like a soda can, right?"

"I am afraid it does not work like that. There is a weight limit on what I can and cannot move, among other factors. I am also unsure if I have the materials with which to pierce its thick hide. Unstoppable force versus immovable object and whatnot."

Kirishima slipped into disappointed silence. "You could throw me at it. I could try and burst through like a harpoon by hardening myself before the impact."

"I would need to throw you with enough kinetic force to crack through several layers of steel. Your skin might be hard, but your bones might shatter under the force."

"Damn, then what do we do?"

"I am thinking." Kirishima could practically feel Ouka's mind racing through whatever link he had established between them. The Zero-Pointer grew further away. The screams of other examinees carried over the buildings, making sweat pour more profusely from his face. The more time passed, the more distracting the stress became. "For now, we have to go after it before it hurts someone else!"

---

He could think of a plan on the way.

The two broke into a dash onto the path of destruction the Zero-Pointer left behind.

"Alright, let's go knock that thing down a peg!"

Ouka tilted his head. "I do not believe it has pegs or a consciousness."

"You know what I mean!"

At full-speed, Kirishima and Ouka caught up to the robot quickly enough to see its trail of carnage still smoking. It took a little extra time, because every few seconds, Ouka would stop to move a pile of rubble that turned out to be hiding an injured person. They grouped together those who could still walk with those who couldn't. It was the best they could do on short-notice. Kirishima waited to hear the plan on the way there, but none were forthcoming.

This Ouka guy had the face of someone who was smart, but he was doing nothing to live up to that impression. Kirishima thought there was something he had in mind, but was now beginning to suspect Ouka was just simple-minded and honest.

Like him. A good guy to be sure.

A real hero always sprung into action, regardless of their own fear - but Ouka didn't look scared at all. Kirishima admired his guts. For that reason, the exam was put at the back of his mind. Someone whose first instinct was to save people, even during an exam, was alright in his book.

If Kirishima had known the only thought going through Ouka's head was, "Oh my God, this is it. This will really kill me," his respect might have been less expansive than it was. But he hadn't, so it wasn't. Ouka was a real manly man, a real Hero.

Unlike me. The thought sat bitterly in Kirishima's mind, raising the images of a beast of a man hovering over three female students. He quickly shook the memories away, and focused on the task at hand. No; this is the new me. I won't run away again!

Still, it would be nice to know if there was something to actually do when they caught up.

"Have you thought up a plan, yet?"

"Working on it!"

"That Zero-Pointer is getting closer."

"I know that!" Ouka's face was illegible, as if he was thinking several hundred things at once. "It would be easy if it were not outside my weight limit."

"Then let's just burst in, grab everyone, and get them out of range before the Zero-Pointer decides to wreck some more!"

"It's not a good idea to just rush in. We would be heavily exposed to other attacks."

"Huh? Make up your mind, already! Where's that manly spirit you were showing earlier?"

"Buried six layers under logic and reason."

But time ran out. The screams from the nearby building alerted them to that.

Kirishima bored into Ouka with his glare. "It's time to decide what you're doing! Are you a man or aren't you?"

Ouka's gaze put miles of distance between himself and the situation, and his whole body started shaking. But, he nodded. "It is not that easy," Ouka forced his lips into a smile, "but we still have to try something."

Kirishima's mouth twisted. He sporadically flashed his gums before pinching his lips shut, holding back a strange, choking noise. He shot a thumbs-up while tears streamed from his eyes. "That's the spirit! Let's go!" He cheered, but he could not meet Ouka's gaze. "Just-Just gimme a minute!"

They had taken no more than two steps when everything went dark. Walls with soft padding closed in around Kirishima.

"Hold it, you two," came a chiding voice, "where do you think you're going?" Kirishima popped his head free through the top of his prison, taking a breath of sweet, fresh air. He turned and immediately shrank under the ginger's steely eyes.

---

"The girl from the train?" Ouka had let the thought slip into her mind before he remembered to control himself. She recoiled in surprise, a shiver rolling down her body at the unnatural voice in her head. "Oh, sorry! I should have asked first!"

"Wha-"

"He can talk with his thoughts," Kirishima answered, gesturing to Ouka, "and we're going to fight that behemoth."

Confusion begot dumbfoundment. "Are you nuts? Why would you try to fight that thing?"

Ouka's head popped free next, smile emblazoned on his face. "We're going to save everyone!" The girl recoiled, her expression twisting in the same way as Kirishima's, except her entire body was trembling.

"They're all fleeing," She choked out, wiping her eyes on her shoulder, "and you two should do the same."

"They are trying to flee," Ouka pointed out, "But with all the panic, a lot of them run over each other or into more mobs of exam robots, and get slowed down. They're running around blind."

"Then, we'll just help them bust up the smaller ones."

"That would take too long, I think. We would get crushed by the Zero-Pointer if we pause, and this conversation will have been pointless."

"Wow," Kirishima muttered, "you are the king of negativity."

"What do you propose we do?" Ouka couldn't help his frustration, both at the problem and Kirishima. He tried to be open towards everyone, but people who preferred bashing a problem with their skulls grated on his patience.

"I say we go back to Plan B and throttle that thing!"

"That is the dumbest plan ever! Even a Pro would think twice after just looking at it!"

"That's all the more reason to test what we're made of-"

The girl shook them like rattles in her giantified hands til Ouka's vision went blurry.

"Quit behaving like children! You're both trying to get into U.A., aren't you? You'll never make it like this, not if you waste time fighting something you obviously can't win against."

"But," Ouka chimed, "isn't that what Heroes are supposed to do?"

"Huh?"

Kirishima pushed the girl's hand open. "Being a Hero isn't about fighting when you know you can win; it's about fighting even when its certain you might lose."

"It's about protecting the smiles of others, even when you are in pain."

She stared at the pair for several long moments, during which the metal monster's trail grew longer and wider. Finally, she slackened her grip around their bodies. "Good grief, you two are more troublesome than my little brothers." She sighed. "OK, what's the plan?"

"What?" That wasn't the answer they expected.

"You guys were planning on tackling that thing. You must have some idea."

Both boys swallowed hard. "Erm..."

"Hitting it really hard?" Kirishima offered.

"Run back and forth while hitting it really hard?"

This was the wrong answer - must have been - because the girl tightened her grasp and shook them furiously once more.

"You two are hopeless."

"What's your grand idea?" Kirishima retorted, parroting Ouka's accusation from moments earlier.

"Not getting crushed like an idiot!"

"Who you calling an idiot?!"

"The guy with the thick skull!"

Ouka watched their argument regress from there, consuming their attention more than the hulking killing machine a mere few leagues away. Kendo diverted her focus entirely from her Quirk, letting the two go for real this time.

She shrank her arms down with ease, so that she may properly grapple Kirishima amidst their heated debate. It must have been a useful ability, especially in close-combat. Ouka wasn't sure if she could expand more than just her arms, but as long as those were in commission, she would be a difficult force to match. Her Quirk and arms were both parts of her body, much more in sync than other people with their Quirks. Of course, take any part of her body away, and…

It was so simple that Ouka almost wanted to slap himself.

"Guys," Ouka whimpered in their thoughts. It was simple. it was dangerous. The nervous excitement made his mind flare with possibility. He wanted to tell them, but...

"If you want to get yourself hurt, then fine; but don't drag a kid with you!"

"Guys," Ouka intoned more harshly.

"Why am I the only one getting knocked here? It was his idea!"

"That doesn't mean-"

"GUYS!" Ouka didn't normally scream. He hated the echoes that drummed his skull. When the two stopped to finally pay attention, he had to wait a moment for the ringing to dissipate. His whole body tensed when he realized he actually had their eyes on him. He coughed, turning his eyes to the ground. "Um, sorry for shouting," He took a deep breath, "but I think I know how we can beat it!"

Both Kendo and Kirishima turned to him, eyes mixing expectance and confusion.

---

"It's getting closer!"

"There's no way we can beat that thing!"

The screams became more audible out loud than they had ever been before. The Zero-Pointer loomed over mobs of candidates like the shadow of death. Those who would not pass have passed the threshold of terror they were prepared for. The only thought that lingered in most of their panicked, instinct-driven minds was to get as far away as possible. One boy tripped on the deep cracks in the ground and fell onto his face. Everyone sprinted past him, trying to protect their own skins. Nobody took notice...

Except for a boy with dark eyes. He stopped beside him and grabbed his hand. "Let's go. Are you trying to get crushed?"

"I," The student got one word before their eyes glazed over.

"Then, let's go," His savior said, "Get moving."

The downed student nodded slowly, taking the assistance back to his feet. He tried to keep pace, but his motions were sloppy, barely mechanical. They didn't get far before a large shadow cast over them. The Zero-Pointer extended its gargantuan hand. It didn't even need to punch. It could flatten them just by dropping its hand. They were too slow. They wouldn't make it-

Three dark-brown blurs bolted through the air. They struck hard against the titanic appendage. The force propelled its arm against the nearby building. It tore off a ceiling with an accidental stroke, but the students below remain untouched by the falling debris.

The boy with dark eyes watched, dumbfoundment superseding fear and caution as the Zero-Pointer's waist twisted. Its head turned on its neck-mount to face the speck hovering by its skull. The robots were not inherently killing machines, but they were machines nonetheless; programmed to consider and adapt to change. They were designed to provide a plausible threat to applicants to the degree which is necessary without becoming immediately fatal. If it was attacked, it would focus on the highest-level target, but otherwise cause collateral damage by its mere size.

Ouka, hovering in the air, waved his hand in an obscure, "Go," gesture to those below. "Get away from them!"

His focus was so entrenched in the machine, that he neglected nobody could actually hear him from this distance. Chunks of broken concrete sifted away from demolished buildings. They levitated into the sky right above him. "You're not a living person, so it doesn't matter how much I hit you with."

He felt pressure build-up behind his eye sockets. It was a heavy yet fluffy feeling, like being doped on cough syrup. Not enough to distract him.

The earthen boulders spun and shot downward. The metal carapace groaned and creaked with each impact, particularly the indents left between its shoulders and arms. One boulder after another. Ouka launched them in concentrated areas, denting the metal deeper but failing to break it. The Zero-Pointer must have caught wind, because it retracted its limb and instead reached for the boy in the sky. Its joints creaked and ground against softened ligaments, slowing its reaction.

"Kendo-san! Kirishima-san! NOW!"

""Right/On it!""

Kirishima and the girl, who gave her name as Itsuka Kendo when the arguing calmed, emerged from the dust of the buildings. They rushed the machine from either side. The Zero-Pointer sensed the oncoming targets, and gradually shifted its external sensors. Ouka heard its hum as its parameters again adjusted to this new information. It raised its hand upward again-

"I said, you're fighting me!" Ouka dropped another barrage of concrete on its head, screeching on its swivel. It couldn't react in time. Ouka discerned the faint spark of electricity discharging from damaged panels underneath.

At the end of the day, we're forgetting that it is just a machine. It is strong, but we are probably a lot smarter. It is bigger, but we are faster. It will not be able to adapt properly if we split its attention. That's where I come in.

Every time one rock cracked against steel, another rose to the air to take its place. The deluge of stone wouldn't end so quickly, even if the pressure behind his eyes started feeling more like an pickaxe.

Kirishima rammed into its side head-first, right into the mechanism of its grinding wheels. "Think you're so tough-"

Kendo enlarged her arms and struck the wheels from the other side. "-Let's see what happens when we bring you down to our level!"

One with a skill of durability, the other with enhanced strength; individually, they couldn't do much, but a pincer attack between them wouldn't feel too good. They struck metal as if it were paper, crumbling each wheel inch-by-inch until they gradually warped out-of-shape. It was a slow process, damaging sixteen wheels on each side. They had to be careful not to be caught in the tank treads that bound them.

We are focusing too much on stopping it all at once.

It continued moving unabated, however; still moving after those who got away while swinging blindly at the gnat stinging its scalp.

Ouka buzzed around it, avoiding staying in one place for too long at a time. He struggled focusing to keep himself aloft simultaneously with his attack, but the creature's size always kept him looking up rather than at the ground. The far-below, very solid, unpleasant, terrifying ground.

A strong-enough blast could bowl it over, but its wheels are able correct its balance with measured rotations. That is why it does not tilt under the weight of its larger half when it strikes. We would need them gone first.

Kirishima drove both of his hands straight into the gears of one of the still-spinning wheels. He howled in strain and protest, veins bulging even through his rock-hard skin. "Come oooon! Break already, you stupid thing!" He threw all his body weight behind him, neck snapped back in a beastly scream. "I said BREEEAAAAK!"

Iron rods and twisting gears snapped, spewing oil and grease from its mechanical wounds. Kirishima threw the metal slab aside and burrowed his fists as deep into the robot's lower chassis. He leveraged his weight and pried as many pieces at random as possible. Anything just to get the damned thing to slow down.

Kendo's own knuckles started to bruise more with each punch, cutting skin against dented metal. Her Quirk made precise hand movements difficult, in addition to lacking the hardening that protected her comrade. She couldn't rip pieces out harmlessly, but she could bend them til they locked.

Steel rims grated showers of golden sparks past her face. The Zero-Pointer's top half cocking forward with its lower half immobilized.

Disable its arms and legs, knock it off-balance-

Air broke around Ouka's body, a veil of wind currents pushing against him as he sped around the titan's body. It twisted after him in vain, its legs refusing to turn. The boulders followed him as he flew, weaving around flailing limbs with bird-like grace. They rotated and spun faster around him. The thought almost cleaved his skull. Every rotation added more kinetic energy, spinning them faster and faster until they developed their own cyclonic pull.

-and it will be helpless.

"Now, fall!"

Six bullets arced through the air, bombarding the mech's back from neck to back. It tilted further forward with each blow. Not enough to break its shell, but even the mightiest beast could be moved. There was a horrendous creak, but no matter how hard Ouka pushed, it refused to take the final trip to the ground. The buildings that provided ammunition gradually eroded down to their foundations.

Worst of all, he could feel his vision start to swirl. The spike in his head was growing larger and larger with every attack. His eyes were practically boiling. He couldn't bear keeping them open. Every boulder he threw took another bit out of him. His flight wasn't as precise as it was before. Every wild swing clipped a little closer to his body. Sparking wires flailed more furiously, seeping from the insect-sized gashes in its surface.

"Hey, ugly!" Ouka's eyes wavered, falling upon a tiny shape pounding at its toes. Kirishima-san. "Down here!" Kirishima struck with all his might, slinging insults every third word.

Kendo stood atop its wheel chassis, pounding her enlarged fists against its iron stomach. "Why dontcha pick on someone your own size?!"

The Zero-Pointer's gears again started to turn, its crimson eye fixing on the ants biting at its hide. It stretched its metal limb towards them-

BAM!

The force of a train bored into the core of the behemoth's back. Ouka floated above it, his form beginning to shake mid-air. Every heave of breath brought the bile a little higher up his throat. It was splitting - His skull was splitting in two! It hurt. IthurtiThURtIThurTITHURTSOMUCH!

But he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to stop. Kirishima and Kendo had cleared the area, but the machine wouldn't stop attacking them. If Ouka stopped, everyone below would be hurt. He had to do this. He had to be PLUS ULTRA!

"Fall!"

"Come on, Oyama!"

"You can do it!"

Something copper-flavored rushed from his mouth and his nose. His teeth cracked against each other. Everything felt ready to burst. The Zero-Pointer's heels rose from the ground. It writhed. It knew who it had to destroy. It reached out in one final desperate grab. One last chance to crush the gnat.

"FALL, DAMMIT!"

One last push. Everything exploded. Ouka saw a flash. It might have been the robot. It could have been his optical nerves finally snapping. Maybe he died. It was hard to tell. He remembered a banshee-like screech.

And then darkness.

---

Ouka awoke in a medical tent. At least, he assumed it was a medical tent.

There was a short, gray-haired old woman in a coat hovering over him, squinty eyes disapproving through her visor. Either she was a nurse and this was a tent, or he was dead and she was there to carry him over the River Styx. The amount of pain exploding behind his eyes, either would have been fine.

"Good, you're finally awake."

Ouka's neck clicked in rapid succession when he turned to look around himself. Other beds sat vacant adjacent to his. Others' thoughts slipped into his stream of consciousness, much quieter than normal, but still tiny pinpricks across his grey matter.

"...crap…"

"...id better…"

"...I..failed or…"

Even with his brain blown to chunks, the grating whispers of other people still drove him mad. He sat-up in his bed, cradling his forehead in his hands.

"Now, now, don't push yourself, dearie. We've already phoned your guardians, and they are on their way to pick you up. Just rest until then."

He didn't want to. There was something of greater concern. He looked at his bedside, throwing around blankets, opening and shutting drawers, searching for anything that might suit his needs. Paper sheets, sticky notes, anything that could display his unspoken words. He waved his hands emphatically at the kindly nurse. He wasn't sure what gestures to use to clue her in on his situation.

"You don't have to be so nervous," It sounded harsh on paper, but her voice was so mild and encouraging, "Those sweet children who brought you explained to me your little impediment. Feel free to let me know if you have any remaining aches or pains."

Ouka thought about it, but when he wiggled his arms and legs, there wasn't any soreness at all. His body felt heavier than normal, but the only part of him in pain remained his head.

"You're not the first telepath I've had to bandage up, and I doubt you'll be the last." That time, she had spoken the thought inside her mind; easy to pick-up in such close proximity.

Ouka dared to reach out, poking the rough edges of her consciousness with his own. "I'm not?"

"You think I get to be this old without having seen everything there is to see?" The nurse said...No, when Ouka used his brain synapses that weren't frayed, he recognized her.

The Youthful Heroine: Recovery Girl, the former rank #21 Pro-Hero back during the Bronze Age of Heroes. She was famous for being one of the top Support-type Heroes during the era of chaos that once ruled Japan. It was said she saved hundreds of thousands of lives over the course of her career, both from Villain attacks and even battlefields, home and abroad. Working tirelessly day and night, she was the sort that all support and rescue-oriented Heroes aspired to be-

"I said to feel free to talk, but don't go scrambling my brains, boy."

Ouka slapped his palms against his forehead. "Sorry, I…" This had not been what he wanted to talk about before. "Wait! You said two other examinees brought me here! Do you know where they are? What happened with the exam? Is it over? Did we-Augh!"

Another migraine rippled in his brain stem. His legs got heavier, to a point he needed to lean on the bed frame to stay upright.

"Remember what I said; you're in no condition to be moving about like that."

"I have to know what happened…"

"I'm sure you remember what you were doing before; battling that big robot."

"That's right. I remember that much."

"Though, from what your friends told me, you passed out dealing it a mighty blow. They rushed you here before the exam had even ended, and here you've laid for the past three hours."

"Past three hours?" Crap. "Then, that means the exam is over…"

"'Afraid so," Recovery Girl confirmed.

Ouka was not sure how many points he had been able to earn destroying the robots. He lost count after twenty-four, being interrupted by the Zero-Pointer before he could get much further. He wasn't sure how the grading system worked, but he doubted a paltry number like that would be enough to pass. And who knew how many points that Kendo and Kirishima had managed to earn before he dragged them into his suicidal stunt.

He may have failed not only himself, but them as well. Joy.

"Are either of the two who brought me still here?"

"I'm afraid the young man who was with you left much earlier, picked up by his parents. The young lady was here until a few moments ago-"

Ouka's entire body perked up at that statement. "Does that mean she's still on the grounds?"

"Well, I don't - Hey!" Ouka was up and sprinting through the tent's flaps before she could finish. "You get back in bed, young man! You might look in one piece, but my healing Quirk consumes a great bit of stamina."

"I'm sorry," Ouka projected back, "but I have to find her real quick! I'll be back!"

The medical tent had been set-up on the side of the exam hall. Ouka rushed through the mobs of jovial or crestfallen youths cluttering the courtyard. Every footstep drummed his skull a little harder. Everyone was either walking home or waiting for their ride, chatting with other examinees. There were so many, and the ocean of thoughts was overwhelming for his already-wrinkled brain. He tried to heighten his focus, searching for any thoughts that sounded familiar; for any mind whose touch was familiar.

Even though every thought crashed together, every person still had a unique compilation of processes and ideas that composed the human mind. Minds that were similar in the thoughts they conjured still had unique sensations to them, in the same way no human voice was an exact duplicate of another without alteration.

He found her at the archway over the open gate. Kendo dressed back in her uniform, lugging her schoolbag haphazardly by her waist. She looked ready to leave, just out of earshot. But now out of range.

"Kendo-san!"

The girl from the train paused, wrinkling her nose at the bizarre vibration throughout her head. She would have written it off, but she had recognized this feeling. She turned and saw the shorter boy running towards her. He was Huffing like he only had one lung, and was sweating rivers even at his modest pace.

"So lame." The groans of her inner voice drove spikes into his soul. "O-Oh. Sorry." Her embarrassment rolled off her in waves. "I'm still not exactly used to needing to watch what I think as much as what I say. Are you doing okay?"

"I think so. I have to go back to Recovery Girl real soon, but I had something to tell you first."

"Are you sure you're okay? You fell really far before I caught you."

"And thank you for that, but I need to say-"

"You had a lot of blood running down your face."

"It is an unfortunate side-effect of overusing my Quirk. I bleed from the face sometimes."

Kendo's eyes went wide. "Oh..."

"B-But it is not as severe as it sounds."

"Are you sure? It sounds like you popped a blood vessel or something."

"No, I am fine."

"You could have suffered some kind of brain damage."

"No. Everything is in working order."

"If you say so," She smiled, but her face was twitching. "Anyway, what was it you needed to tell me?"

"Oh, right," Ouka's spirits fell as he recalled his purpose. He lowered himself a full ninety degrees before her, "I am so very sorry!"

"About what?"

"It was my idea to go after the Zero-Pointer in the first place, and I was the one who ended up being knocked out. You and Kirishima-san both carried me to Recovery Girl, but you missed out on your chance to score more points."

"Is that all?" Ouka heard her click her tongue. "Don't be dumb. Kirishima and I helped you because we wanted to. I mean, it was an exam, and I doubt the instructors would have actually let anyone die..."

"But..."

"What? Did you think it was all real?"

"People got hurt," Ouka stammered.

"That's why we sign the liability waivers; but, come on. Have you ever heard any stories of people actually dying during the exams? You must've done some research."

"I," Ouka trailed off. He had done his research.

Ouka considered it in his thoughts. He remembered the smaller robots, how threatening their appearance was in contrast to the wimpy rubber ammunition they used. They stood or pursued at their leisure, but the Zero-Pointer was the only one to actively swing its weight around with obvious movements. Plenty of people were left disabled, but not particularly wounded or dead.

The weight of realization drop on his skull like a bag or rocks. "Oh no, I'm an idiot!"

Kendo seemed amused by this, suppressing a laugh under her hand. "You really didn't realize it? It seemed pretty obvious."

"You're right," Ouka admitted dimly. Even somewhere high-class like U.A. couldn't avoid negligent homicide with a mere liability waiver. No parent would send their child to a school where it is probable they could be killed before entrance. And never before was there a public scandal outside the tabloids. Even U.A. couldn't keep something that big under wraps. It wasn't as if it was outside of their power, but people would still be talking about it. Rumors, paranoia, fear; it was natural to at least suspect, but no such suspicions surfaced - even on the forums he searched. Broken bones were possible, but they had Recovery Girl to treat all their wounds, and easy access to emergency services, so they never lasted.

It made Ouka pull his collar to vent heat. He took a deep breath, and finally spoke through his thoughts, "I'll be honest; I wasn't really thinking. I don't think a lot. When I do, I think too much and the moment slips away. In that moment, all I could think about was saving those people."

"I thought you might've been doing it just to show-off…"

Ouka jerked back, dizzy from the brutal cross.

"...but I'm glad you're a more honest sort than that." The girl was still smiling. Wait. Did she still not realize who he was? Most people tended to stop him solely because they saw the resemblance. Ouka presumed she didn't bring it up for politeness's sake, but... "I guess I was sucked in to the whole idealistic, "Protect everyone," thing you had going on. Saving people is why I wanted to become a Hero, and we definitely saved people from getting hurt, as badly as they could've been. So, I'm happy, at least. It was just an exam. If we failed, we failed. We might not get into U.A., but there are other Hero Courses. There will be other chances."

Ouka had submitted other applications; he had just sincerely hoped U.A. would render them unnecessary. Other than Ketsubutsu Academy, U.A. was the only place that set his heart aloft. It was the alma mater of several of his favorite Heroes and Heroines, those he idolized as the very concept of "truth and justice." U.A.'s graduates stood apart from others as many of the modern-day's crystallization of heroism.

Only they could clean the stains on his mind. Even someone like him could rise to the top, as long as he kept trying. But if it wasn't U.A., if it was someone who didn't find him worth the challenge, then...

"Stop looking so down." Kendo prodded Ouka's shoulder with her index finger, knocking him off-balance with a soft push. "Just believe in yourself. If you can pull off half of what you did a few hours ago, then you'll become a great Hero in no-time, U.A. or not."

"I suppose..."

"Then, think of it this way: What's the reason you want to become a Hero?"

"To," Ouka paused, "save people?" It seemed obvious. For what other reason would someone aspire to be a Hero? Besides the fame, publicity, monetary compensation, health benefits, and other miscellaneous things that no true defender of justice would give a second thought to. It wasn't as if he didn't think those sorts of people existed; he simply held higher standards for those in their youth. It was their duty to learn from their predecessors and strive to avoid making the same mistakes, to make society a safer, better place for everyone.

But he couldn't say all that in the short time he had. It might have burst his andher brains.

"But why? Why not join the police, or become a public official? There's plenty of ways you could work to help people. Why a Pro-Hero?"

"Why a Pro-Hero...?" The question bounced throughout his skull, his memories surging larger and louder than the background noise eating at him.

Stones against skin...The blood dripping from his face...Laughing faces...

And stronger than all those memories burned into his mind, was that of the man's back faced towards him. Powerful, immovable; a shield against those who could not protect themselves. And a smile on his face.

Ouka blinked and returned to reality, still faced by Kendo's expectant question. "I," He thought about his Quirk, about the damage he did during the exam. And about those he had pulled out of the debris. "I want to become a Hero that others depend on; the sort who, when others see him, grow a smile upon their face. I want to become a Hero whose smile can inspire others to smile as well, who can protect those smiles, in order to make the world a brighter place."

"Then, you might want to practice," The girl placed her hands on her hips and scrutinized Ouka with her eyes. "You say you want to save people with a smile, then you shouldn't let yourself look like you're about to wet yourself. You had grit teeth and a sweaty forehead the entire time."

Ouka traced his mouth, lips and gums, with his fingers. "I did?" Must've been quite the sight. He was glad he had too much adrenaline coursing through his veins to feel self-conscious about it.

The girl pinched her cheeks between her fingers and pushed the corners of her mouth in an upward curve. "Do it like this. More natural."

Ouka did his best to imitate the feature, pushing his cheeks up as far as he could with his fingers. "Like this?"

"Not quite, you," She was cut short by the sound of the honking horn. An automobile was pulled up by the entrance. The ginger-haired man at the wheel was waving in their direction. "Sorry, that's my dad. My ride's here." She picked up her bag and walked away. "Keep working on it; you have to make people smile in the first place if you want to protect those smiles."

The girl waved briefly as she opened the car door. "'Been nice meeting you, Ouka-kun!"

"You, too," Ouka called back. "Likewise!"

The car peeled away, and the evening grew quieter.

"Make people smile…"

---

Time passed…

Aoi had heard he had taken the U.A. Entrance Exam, but Ouka had been mum about it since exam day. This was the first time she had heard from him since. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? The suspense was killing her.

She drummed her fingers impatiently against the desktop. She had been told she had a visitor, but for him to keep her waiting so long? The nerve.

Finally, a head of green hair, tipped with blue streaks, entered the room. Her first thought was, "Who the fuck was this guy?" She didn't know anybody with green hair. And what was with that face-mask? It was plain black with a lazy, white smile drawn onto it.

Realization struck with the lines ringing through her skull, "Hi, Mom."

Aoi did a double-take, examining the figure from head-to-toe as he sat in front of her. She bit her tongue to avoid spewing laughter. It was ridiculous! He looked like a bad Zoro cosplayer during a epidemic! It hurt her gut to keep it in.

He placed an envelope on the table in front of him, exposing the broken wax stamp that cut her laughter dead-short. "I got my letter." He said nothing about the dye. He figured it basically spoke for itself. In his other hand, he raised a bouquet of tulips. "I got these for you."

Aoi raised a brow. "Flowers?"

"I never know what gift is appropriate for a situation like ours," Ouka was still chuckling through his thoughts, and it unsettled her. It was...strange. Nothing she wasn't used to with her abilities, but still out-of-the-ordinary.

She shrugged, continuing the string of thought. "I dunno. Nail file or hacksaw?" Aoi grinned, leaning back towards the uneasy-looking, uniformed man behind her. "I'm kidding." She leaned back in towards the window. There was something more important... "Forget about that for now! How did it go?"

Melancholy seeped into the flow of thoughts into her head. "I don't know. I've been too afraid to look at it…"

Aoi slammed her fist on the table. "Then, what are we waiting for? Let's tear that bad-boy right open!"

"Um, I dunno…"

But Aoi hand already slid through the slot in the glass partition, stealing the envelope for herself. She rummaged through it before pulling out a small, plastic disc. She eyed it warily. "How the fuck does this thing work-" Her finger brushed along a switch around its side, and a bright light projected an image in front of her face. "Son of a bitch!"

She dropped it on the table as the image provided the utmost clarity to a bulk-bodied blonde in the yellow suit, so different from his traditional red, white, and blue. Aoi almost fell out of her chair, but Ouka looked stoic. To others, it looked as if he didn't care, but Aoi saw the tell-tale signs.

The way his cheeks rose, the flush of red across the exposed strip of his nose from beneath his mask, and the sound of his leg shaking and banging under the table. He was excited. Ouka knew who this pretentious bastard was, same as Aoi.

"I AM HERE," The Hero of Heroes, the #1 Pro-Hero, All-Might, announced, before adding at a level volume, "as a hologram!"

"It's ALL-MIIIIIIGHT!" Even though Ouka was squeeing directly into her brain, Aoi couldn't help trying to cover her ears at the fan-girlish glee her son had for that smug prick. She said nothing about it, mostly because he already knew where she stood, even if he wasn't able to pick up on her most annoyed thoughts.

He must have, because Ouka quickly glanced at her and became more humble in his seat.

"That's right," The hologram confirmed, "I, All-Might, will be a teacher at UA this year, and am here to announce your results for the U.A. Entrance Exam!"

Aoi rested her head on her arms, waiting impatiently. This was it. Her eyes flitted every half-second to ensure Ouka wouldn't pass out. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Ouka Oyama," There was a momentary pause for dramatic effect, "you passed the written exam with a score of eighty-seven points. I commend you on your attention to academic success as much as physical. Brain is as crucial for any up-and-coming young hero as brawn. Remember that!"

Ouka nodded. Ao's eyes started to glaze over.

"Onto the practical exam, I am here," That catch phrase really started to grate Aoi in rapid succession, "to inform you that you scored 34 Villain Points!"

Ouka's hands fidgeted in his pockets. 34 points was not enough to pass on most exams. Depending on how the grades were averaged, Aoi felt something of a "but" coming...

"-However, there is more to the practical exam than fighting villains. You see, Young Oyama, this exam was designed to test not only the physical mettle of applicants, but also the heroism in their hearts!"

Holo-Might pressed a button on his remote, turning on the screen within the screen. Flashes of his exam replayed for Ouka and Ao's eyes, clip shows of him moving debris and assisting other U.A. hopefuls. It continued to play up to the point where he and the others had started fighting the Zero-Pointer, finally ending with the mighty machine collapsing forward, a shambling heap on the ground.

Ouka was glad it omitted the part about him dropping from the sky. His mother was fidgeting as much as he was, and he doubted she was prepared for that heart attack.

"Even though your own success was on the line, you put it aside to cooperate with fellow examinees against a foe no one person could defeat on their own. You risked life and limb in defense of your peers and accomplished no small feat in destroying the robot worth zero points. Bravery and camaraderie such as this are the epitome of what it means to be a Hero; for that, our panel of judges have deemed fit to award you, Young Kirishima, and Young Kendo a total of fifty Rescue Points each!"

The scoreboard took up the screen, showing a list of the scores. Ouka's eyes started from the bottom rank and worked their way up. He couldn't find his name.

"Ahem," His mother coughed, nonchalantly raising her finger towards the top. Ouka followed and felt his eyes almost drop into his stomach like pachinko balls. The highest score underneath his was 77. And beneath that score were Kendo and Kirishima's; 74 and 70 respectively.

"With a total of 84 points, it is my honor to inform you that you, Ouka Oyama, have passed the practical exam with the highest score! Congratulations! Allow me to personally welcome you to U.A.!"

For a moment, Aoi gawked, Ouka consuming more attention than the flamboyant blonde. "You took down the Zero-Pointer?"

Ouka shrank in his seat. "Um, y-yes…Or, I did my best! I had a lot of help-"

Aoi stood up so fast her chair almost knocked over. "Oh, baby; that's great! I'm so proud of you!" She was half-ready to try hugging him through the glass. "I'm so happy you got into U.A.! I mean, of course you would - You got half my genes and half your fa-" She caught herself. Ouka made himself stay transfixed on his acceptance letter, but the slip had already been made. Aoi forced her smile back on, but that bit of warmth that faded from the atmosphere never returned. "Anyway, when does your first semester start?"

"I still have orientation and costume designs to deal with before break ends, but it will still be a month or two."

"And you are going to make a great Hero - No, one of the best Heroes!"

"Mom…"

She leaned back in her seat, unable to suppress her booming chortles. "Hey, ya' maniacal bitches; my baby boy just got into U.A.!"

"Moooom!" Ouka lowered his face into his hands to hide his luminescent blush.

"Nobody cares," screamed another woman in the background.

"Oh, I'll make you care," She was standing from her stool at that point.

"I'd like to see you try!"

"This bitch doesn't know what she's in for!"

"Bring it, hag!"

She turned back to Ouka and smiled sweetly. "I love you, baby. You're going to be great! Make lots of friends-"

"He'll be a lonely bastard!"

"That's it," She knocked her stool over, standing up, "now, you die!"

Ouka winced as she lunged halfway across the room, tackling another woman to the floor.

Guards rushed forward, scrambling to pry them apart. "Damn it, Kuzuryu!"

Ouka laughed to himself, pityingly and humorously. His mother had always been an energetic sort. He wasn't sure how she would react, but this put him at ease. For this visit, at least. This was to be the end.

He faced toward the exit of the visitor's area, adjusting the smiling mask over his lips. He still couldn't smile properly on his own, so the mask would do it for him. It would smile for those who could not, so he could devote everything else to protecting them.

Because that was the Hero he wanted to be.

---

There it is. I did my best. Please like and subscribe - Oh wait, that's YouTube.

I tried to write my best approximation of Kendo and Kirishima's characters. Kirishima didn't do his full character change until he officially enrolled in U.A. It seemed like he was still in the process of becoming "Red Riot," so I tried portraying him as a friendly, boisterous youth who is still secretly uncertain of himself.

As for Kendo, she originally had more scenes, but this chapter got bloated, so I had to make the cut somewhere. I had a lot more scenes where Ouka was going back and forth during the exam, until I realized why that didn't quite work. I rewrote this chapter several times and I had to keep referencing the source material because I couldn't remember things like, "The Zero-Pointer has wheels instead of robot legs," or, "The exam was only ten minutes."

That is part of the reason I need a beta-reader. To not only make the story sound more coherent and entertaining, but also to catch me when I make bone-head mistakes like that.

Anyway, thank you for reading, especially those of you who actually stuck around to read the Author's Notes. Makes it feel a lot more like we writers aren't just screaming into a void.

Please, R&R.