Nighteye's car was packed, Izuku noted. Before today, Nighteye seating four people was a fantasy. At most, it was just himself Nighteye, and an unfortunate plus one. Very few men and women could stomach the ordeal; but today, Gran Torino and Setsuna joined them. Had today not been such an important day, he doubted either of their additions would've caved. Even free rides have a cost, after all.

They made the commute in silence. Setsuna, bless her heart, had never had the misfortune to experience such recklessness, and Torino's constitution wasn't what it once was. Tensions were already high, and Nighteye's sharp turns and abrupt stops could snap a monk's meditation in two. Their silence was their weapon; they couldn't freak out if they didn't speak. As for Izuku, he was just anxious.

Izuku popped all the joints in his hand, working his way up to the elbow, his shoulder, and finally his neck. He weathered the death stare Setsuna was throwing him from the backseat, her ghost-white face visible in the rearview mirror—the cracks broke their honorary silence. As Nighteye's primary disciple, he'd been given the "honor" of shotgun, which only meant he had a front row viewing of Nighteye's insanity.

In all honesty, he would've preferred to swap with Torino; that way, he could've at least stressed with Setsuna together.

Today was the day. Almost five years to the anniversary, Izuku was about to walk into U.A. for the first time. They were the halls that Gran Torino used to teach in, Nighteye used to study in… All Might used to thrive in… the one's he'd dreamed of all his life. Even just the thought bore a hefty weight, one that made his heart squeeze and stub itch.

Not knowing what to do with his hand, he opened his phone to check for new texts. He bit his lip, finding none. He settled on rereading the recent ones.

Lemillion: Go get 'em, tiger. I'll be sure to say hi when I see you in the halls next semester.

Shoto: I wonder what the test will consist of. Father told me it used to be like an athletics competition, but apparently it's totally rehauled.

Mom: Good luck sweety! I'm going to make a cake for you when you get home. You've worked so hard, I'm sure you'll do great! Muah 3

Setsunasaurus: Wait, where are we meeting up? Nighteye's?

Izuku lingered on the latter two, double and triple rereading. Just seeing them brought a warm flush through his chest, easing his pulse and dulling the edge of anxiety digging into his heart. Whereas his mom's text was full of love, Setsuna's was almost empty by comparison. Yet they held similar places in his heart—his friend conveyed her support with her actions, rather than words. It was something he could relate to.

As for the former two texts, they did the opposite. His competitive spirit itched, crackling like a flame in his chest.

His quirk matched his feelings one for one, even the contradictions. One for All didn't bat an eye at his paradoxical emotions; within Izuku, it had always existed as a flame and an ocean anyways. It purred like an engine, hiccupping alongside his excitement like a floored accelerator. It was a part of his body and his feelings at once, his blood and his mind. It was cool, flowing with his mom and Setsuna, but hot, flickering with Mirio and Shoto.

He loved them for their encouragement—alongside everyone else who'd ever believed in him. The Tokages, the Utsushimis, and even Ms. Fujimaki wished him luck, even if Sasami had been subdued while doing so. Despite so many well-wishes, however, only one made his heart droop.

Therapist Fuji: Remember, success is not always guaranteed. You have worked hard, but should the unfortunate come and you fail, it won't be the end of the world. You are a trooper, my boy, and even if that can't save you from getting knocked down, it will guarantee your resolve to stand back up. Good luck and godspeed, Izuku.

It left him feeling a dull disappointment. The man was sweet as sugar, but his logical, pragmatic reasoning didn't help his consciousness today. Of course, Izuku understood on a grander scale that he wasn't guaranteed a spot in U.A.'s Hero Course, but he was prepared; perhaps more so than anyone else. In the last eight months alone, he'd grown leaps and bounds with his skills—he hadn't even considered losing until Dr. Fujimaki had mentioned it..

He was… confident. It wasn't a rarity for him to feel like this, but with how his self-worth waxed and waned like the moon, Izuku supposed he hit the jackpot on this occasion. Training kept him feeling good; and training had been better than ever since Togata had joined Nighteye as a full apprentice. Still, Izuku was teetering. Had he been in any worse a headspace than he was now, he'd be biting his nails, white as a sheet.

Another thing keeping him feeling good was the rearview mirror. Checking it reminded him of his dear friend, pale and nauseous. While her nerves seemed abundant, they were only exacerbated by Nighteye's driving. In reality, she too was quite confident. She was in the best shape of her life, and her chances were no lower than his own.

Izuku smiled to himself; she'd come a long way from early Middle School. As anxious as she appeared on the surface, he could see the way her shoulders kept firm, her eyes steady ahead. Her eyebrows, cute, neat things, had a focused scrunch. Shoulder-length waves refracted the light, burning viridescent in the sun, and their simple existence warmed him. He'd never thought she looked bad, but it was nice to see her all natural again; it felt like a bad chapter of a good book had finally ended.

It wasn't just them who had grown, though. Mirio had completed his second year at the top of his class, and Shoto had finally begun to wrangle his fire under control. His friends—and wow, how he loved to say that—were thriving. He, despite many hardships, was thriving.

So when he stepped out of the car, shoulder-to-shoulder with Setsuna Tokage, he didn't feel nauseous. It wasn't overwhelming, foreboding, or dismaying. Sure, his heart squeezed, but when did it not?

"So… what do we do from here?" Izuku asked, looking around. The campus was striking: grand, but concrete and functional. It looked the part of a top hero academy. Its pride was in its simple, expansive effectiveness. Broad sidewalks for larger students, massive entrances, and inviting infrastructure… Even the benches were impressive, in that they accommodated for all.

Not a single building was less than five stories, but even the tallest ones didn't loom overhead. They felt less intimidating than they did inspiring. Like yes, one day, you too will be able to reach these heights, and we'll show you how; like the difficulties of life weren't so far out of reach here.

"You see that building over there?" Nighteye asked, pointing to a squat, square building off to their left. The two hero-hopefuls nodded. "We'll sign you in, do your paperwork, and then you'll begin your knowledge exams. Then we'll reconvene in… is that the building, Sorahiko?"

Everyone's eyes drifted from their left to their right, looking at an oddball building. The grass surrounding the facility was sparse, mostly dirt, and there were construction trenches littering the property. The building itself stood out, given that it was far more cylindrical than any other. Whereas the previously mentioned building was a brick of beautiful glass, this building was a cone of concrete. Izuku almost mistook it for the Sport's Festival Stadium, but it was a quarter of its size.

The aesthetic was spartan; no decorations marred the smooth walls. The only hints of detail stood before the entrance; concrete statues, each a uniform cream color welcomed all who dared approach. They were of heroes, yes, but not ones Izuku recognized. They wore shield bucklers at the hip, spears across their back, and Hellenian helmets with horse hair plumes over their heads. Had it not been for the iconic capes they wore, Izuku might've mistaken them for ancient gladiators. Were these… Roman Heroes?

"Yea, didn't you check the brochure? Built the whole thing over the course of a month, just for the test." Gran Torino said, leaning against his cane. Just like Nighteye, he wore his hero costume; though unlike Nighteye, he stood out like a sore thumb. An odd feeling was born in Izuku's gut, one that he struggled to place. It was like a chimera of nerves and paranoia, but it wasn't strictly negative. He was curious and excited too; the structure didn't fit with his mental image of U.A., and he was excited to figure out what its purpose was.

"Fair enough. That is where the main test will be taken; we'll be there to support you, but we can't help you. After we sign you in, you'll all be on your own." Nighteye said.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Sir. It's not like you were gonna help me if you could." Setsuna said, a small laugh floating on her voice.

Nighteye at least had the shame to be a little abashed. His shortness with Setsuna had waned over the years, but he never truly got around to appreciating her to her fullest. Still, even he could laugh at his own attitude sometimes. He stood there for a moment, taking the light insult on the chin, before a small grin settled over his face. Placing his hands on both their shoulders, he pulled them close enough to whisper in their ears.

"Good luck; you've already earned your place, in my mind. Even you, Girlie."

It did the trick. The lingering effects of Nighteye's driving drained from Setsuna's system just as Izuku felt that curious-paranoia fade. Only now did it dawn on him that they were to take serious exams; although he studied hard, that was just who he was. He hadn't dedicated specific energies to mastering U.A.'s expected material; he could only hope what he knew covered the bases. As for Setsuna, her trademarked shark grin swam onto her face, as confident and ferocious as ever.

"Dude, we are going to blow these nerds out of the water. I quintuple checked the exam material. Piece of cake."

"Good. You're a good fighter, Girlie, but I was afraid we were gonna lose you to academics." Gran Torino said, dry and not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She spun to him, cheeks flushed and jaw dropped.

"Excuse me!?" She said, before Nighteye shut her up.

"We're going to be late at this rate. Let's go register." He said, marching off towards the square building. Torino was immediate in following him, leaving an ignited Setsuna and a laughing Izuku behind.

As they abandoned the children to their tardiness, the crowd grew thicker, obscuring the view of their teachers from them. Setsuna was still fuming, not wanting to follow, but as the crowd began to push past and shove them aside with their elbows, Izuku had enough. Grabbing the girl's bicep, he started along the treacherous journey of catching up. He suppressed a shudder as the contact sent a shock up his arm, sparking in his brain and muddying his thoughts.

She engulfed his mind, whenever they touched like this. Thoughts of her hung over him like an oppressive fog; a haze that made his heart race a little quicker and blood pump a little faster. It was… a crush. One he'd accepted, but didn't appreciate. It made being with her difficult, especially when they sparred. Sure, glancing blows and brushing strikes didn't impact him, but Izuku always lost when they grappled.

It dragged him down functionally, but also emotionally as well. He adored her, but at times it clouded him and robbed him of sense. Especially in these moments, when they were alone but for strangers, when all he could think of was her and not his surroundings. His feelings around her fluctuated like the ocean's currents, wild and untameable one moment, calm and serene the next. And even at the best of times, it hurt, because it was not meant to be.

He wished her the best, and he knew that was probably not with him.

His thoughts turned heavy as they broke through the crowd, finding Nighteye waiting for them with crossed arms and a restless, tapping foot. Torino was giving him an odd look; and only here did Izuku remember to let go of Setsuna's arm. Her face was pointed everywhere except his own as she slipped past him, joining Torino to file the rest of her paperwork. As she did so, there was a brief moment where the only people he could see were Nighteye and Setsuna.

It was one of those surprise-attacks that the unconscious mind uses against the conscious. The juxtaposition between Nighteye and Setsuna hit him like a hammer. Wires in his brain sparked, the all-devouring urge to reveal his secret waking up.

In the early days, he hadn't considered it. His life with Nighteye and his life with Setsuna had been split, kept apart by circumstance. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have. Everything was a danger, a possible trigger, and just talking about what'd happened would have sent him over the edge.

It'd been a fear with a short halflife. Years passed, and Izuku found that the pain bothered him less and less; and by the time Setsuna came to Nighteye's gym, he might've been able to choke the whole story out. Yet something held him back… something bigger than himself.

In some ways though, the guilt sat squarely on his shoulders. He'd never given her a full truth, in regards to his quirk, and his personal failings could be pointed at for that. She'd… he could remember it like it was yesterday, the bridge. How miserable he'd—they'd—been, and how she'd still mustered the power to save his life. Yet even now he could only offer half-truths and allusions.

His inability to come clean wasn't simple. He could take some solace in its complexity and weight, but it was still on him in the end. In recent times, when they were alone and close, the words would sit on his tongue.

"Hey, did you know that I have the country's greatest quirk? All Might gave it to me seconds before he died." Izuku might say, and then his own bluntness would wither his hypothetical admittance. He'd try again at a different time, different place, but nothing escaped his sealed lips.

"The Symbol of Peace gave me his power, and Nighteye's been training me to be his replacement." Sand on his tongue.

"Eight people live inside me, and our nine missions in life are to destroy a vegetated crime boss." Ash.

"I was the kid All Might killed himself to save; now I have to take up his mission." Soot.

Setsuna was many things. Reasonable, for one. Fun. Intelligent, talented, and dedicated. Bright. She was not, however, easy to talk to about such personal topics. Simple eye contact made him shudder, for one. The power she had over him was as great as the quirk that slept in his gut, and that wasn't even including the effect her skin had on him.

He didn't know what to say. None of these feelings were new, it's just that they'd only begun to make sense in his brain in the last few months. It was just… hard. Izuku didn't have a clue how it happened. She always stood close to him, no further than a few millimeters, and he'd never had a problem. In fact, he'd welcomed her warmth as a peace of mind he could find nowhere else. Yet one day, those previously insignificant millimeters felt all too close, that warm presence scorching and distracting.

It was here he decided she deserved to know. Izuku was almost embarrassed; she'd gone through so much with him that it should've been trivial. The fact that she was already clued in should've helped; her suspicions were obvious. To her, there was already a concrete connection, and all Izuku would have to do is throw her a bone. Setsuna could figure out the rest.

Yet it wasn't just shame and embarrassment that stopped him from sharing his secret. It was One for All itself.

As the group began walking into the building, the urge to tell her blossomed, growing from a simple sapling into a young yggdrasil. He turned on her then, the words on his lips spilling forth like a flooding dam.

"Set—"

"Stop!" Five yelled, manifesting beside him. Izuku's companions all looked at him confused. It was like an air bubble had been forced down his throat, his silence coerced and forced.

"C'mon, kid, you know that's a poor idea." Five said, his grip an iron clamp on Izuku's shoulder. "She's already knee-deep in our bullshit, and any further she falls she'll be exponentially more likely to get hurt. All for One may be on life support, but even as a vegetable he'd still manage to hurt you. Through her."

His words reverberated with power, like a second voice of sheer energy was layered over his own. The energy wasn't toneless and formless however; it had a physical motion in his gut, swaying like a ship. That swaying was jealous, and wanted nothing more than to hold the truth close to its chest. One for All—as it always did when he tried—shut him up. Five wasn't just speaking of his own will, but of the whole quirk's.

"All examinees, please report to your assigned floor to begin the testing. It begins in ten." An overhead speaker said, saving Izuku from his group's confused stares. A good chunk of the fellow students filed out of the lobby; if Izuku wasn't so swamped with inner conflict, he might've enjoyed peeking on his potential peers and their teachers. As it was, he was just glad when Nighteye shoved paperwork in his hand.

While he sped through the paperwork, Five stayed over his shoulder, lecturing him.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I know—I know. You feel bad, and want her to know the truth, which checks out. But it's like you forget the dangers of being in One for All's inner circle. There are less than twenty people alive who know about our quirk, and it should stay that way. Telling Mirio our name didn't count, but even that was almost too much. Every new addition is a security breach for us, and a personal risk for them."

If he was asked, Izuku would've denied how much harder he began to press the pen into his signature. Izuku loved One for All to no end. It'd been a part of him for so long, and such a massive part of him at that. He swore himself to it, and made a thousand and one promises on its behalf—but that didn't mean it couldn't frustrate him. Banjo especially.

Five, Izuku thought, projecting his thoughts as loud as he could manage. I'm strong now. We're strong now, the both of us. I can almost beat Nighteye, and Setsuna's getting closer to Gran Torino every day. We—especially her—can handle it.

"Those are in spars, kid. You know that. You're good, but you're not half as good as them at their best, and by no means are they the strongest. Even All Might was wary about this, and he was the strongest. This shouldn't even be an argument. You love her, so you won't endanger her more than we already have. It's how All Might stayed alive for so long—he chucked these feelings away for a better world."

It took more strength to not puncture the paper straight through than it would've to do so. On the outside, all someone might see was a twitch, but on the inside Izuku was fuming. Fire and brimstone raged through him as he turned in his paperwork. In exchange, the receptionist handed him a number; five, for his testing floor. He rejoined Setsuna, cold as a stone in the shade, spotting a four in her hand.

Five, Izuku thought, squinting. Get out of my head. The vestige winced, raising his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I'm sorry, dawg. I'm just trying to set you straight—"

No, I understand. But get the hell out of my head anyways.

"But—"

It took an odd mix of blinking, flexing his abs, and stirring One for All, but seconds later, Five faded away.

"Set." Izuku said, turning to her. She startled, surprised at being addressed.

"Yeah?"

Even as Five was dispersed, the words lay thick on his tongue like hummus. It was like the truth lay on one side of a meter thick door, and all he could do was bang and beg for it to be opened. That frustration remained aflame inside of him, but it burned a useless fire. He sighed.

"Good luck."

He gave Nighteye and Torino a serious nod, and then joined the last group of stragglers as they made their way to the fifth floor.

Much of what the proctor said went over his head, his mind somewhere else. For him, it felt like one moment he was in an elevator, and the next, he was holding a thin stack of paper and a ballpoint pen, the dedicated box for his name filled. Only here, after everyone had already started writing on their exam papers, did Izuku realize this was an English fluency test.

It didn't take much brain power, unfortunately. It was only mid-level, and Izuku already spoke perfect English. It left him almost bored, like taking a test in his native language; leaving him enough room for his thoughts to continue to wander.

Five wasn't… wrong. But neither was he. Setsuna walked a thin line, learning alongside Izuku and his mentors. Their closeness had been innocent and harmless at first, but as she began to spin more time with them, she seemed to feel more and more like a member of the team. That was a very dangerous pedestal to place one's head on, especially when the guillotine's edge alignment was so mysterious. Setsuna had joined them, trusted them, yet she didn't quite understand the risk.

Being a part of One for All's group was worse than being a normal hero. Some heroes, over the course of their careers, developed rivalries and nemesis. Very few came into the game already at war with a villain, and absolutely none started off with a Supervillain on their case. Setsuna… would be a magnificent hero. But her life would be extraordinarily difficult because of what company she kept.

That frustration from earlier had faded, but now, in its stead, a deep negativity was born. As Izuku moved onto the next test, Mathematics, guilt began to tug on his wits. Had it not been Algebra 2, a topic he'd mastered years ago, Izuku doubted he would've been able to breeze through it as he did.

They'd fucked up. Setsuna may only spend a handful of hours a week in the warehouse, but that alone was enough. They should've told her the moment she joined, the millisecond she stepped into the gym. The more he thought about it, the more screwed it was. It was like signing into the military as a paperpusher, not knowing they'd be stationed in a warzone.

Science was next; Earth, to be specific. Tectonic plates and magma vaults and mineral scoring were an afterthought even now as Izuku's guilt spiraled.

There was no one more trustworthy than her. That was the best way he could put it; she'd done far more than the bare minimum, surpassing his every expectation of another person. If there was a single human he would rather never lie to, she'd be in the conversation right next to his mother.

She'd almost lost a leg for him, even as he almost took a bullet for her. How much more did they need to grow for honesty to be out of the question? It was asinine, how close they were yet how far apart they felt.

He wanted to tell her; and she deserved to be told. To say he wasn't frustrated at the simplicity of the problem would be lying. They were stronger—better—than they'd ever been. There was no better time than now, and yet he was still stuck. Who could he tell, who could he confide in, if not her?

The words of Five echoed back into his mind; of All Might pushing away those feelings, of remaining solid and alone. Did he have friends? Did he ever have a chance for real love?

A darker ugliness than guilt stirred in his gut, thinking of all the chances the man would never get. The plastic of his pen bent under his grip, creaking just loud enough to remind him to stop. He blinked. All his answers were filled; a dozen students were already up and handing in their test.

His mind was blank as he followed their lead, grabbing the last exam packet. This one seemed to be twice as thick as the others; though he didn't give it a strong look before sitting back in his seat. When the proctor had accounted for all the students, only then did Izuku flip it open, looking at the content.

A shiver ran down his spine. A gleaming smile stared up at him, so fierce and bright that he had to squint. Hero Laws and Regulations; the final test. Of course.

He spent a long time staring at All Might's visage, lost in thought. Five's words played over and over in his head, a niggling of an idea growing. All Might's successor… was him. The words replayed in his mind like a chime, sharp and obtrusive, yet serene and soft.

"I have no regrets… …One for All." All Might had said. "I have no one to give it to, no successor, no son."

"It's how All Might stayed alive for so long—he chucked these feelings away for a better world." Five had said.

All Might had never taken a partner… not in a romantic sense. The sparse, rare few he did confide in, however…

They were all heroes, or in the same business. Nighteye. Gran Torino. If the old hero was to be believed, they also had a contact in the police as well as a friend in U.A.'s top physician, Recovery Girl.

Izuku wondered if One for All had ever fought All Might like it did him. He doubted it; All Might was One for All's favorite. The power had come easy to him, whereas it seemed to fight Izuku at every turn, even on the simplest of things. Still, even as All Might had told his closest confidants, those confidants had been self-sufficient, capable individuals. Heroes.

It reminded him of those old cartoons; those pre-quirk era comics. Where superheroes had been fiction, smoke and mirrors. Where the most dramatic forms of the modern profession were dramatized; where being a hero was dangerous, unlawful, and unforgiving.

Heroes, just like in real life, had secret identities. They lived in worlds where villains were far more abundant than themselves, and their identity formed a shield around themselves and their loved ones. Oftentimes, those shields even extended into their personal lives, hiding their truth from their loved ones just as they did their Villain of the Week's.

It'd been… a long time since Izuku had thought about old hero cartoons. As a child, he'd drunk them like a man dying of thirst; so much so that he might've drowned otherwise. For a second, Izuku pondered why he'd stopped. They'd been so important to him, some of his favorite things had been those comics. He…

Looking down again, he remembered. All Might. Staring at this image; a photograph, traced and colored in like a painting, he remembered.

Heroes would have unbalanced lives, rolling through lovers and family like a train that never stopped a station for too long. Hero-Citizen relationships dissolved faster than sugar in water; oftentimes, unless you were invincible, your only true friends were the heroes you partnered with and fostered.

Was it because they were only students? An indignation burned like a fire in his chest, thinking of Setsuna. Was she just not heroic enough? What is it you want, One for All? A Saint? There's few more heroic than her, yet his quirk was rebuking her anyways? Why?

Five might've been right about Nighteye being twice as good as them, but that didn't take away from their strength. He'd been training longer and harder than some pros do, and Setsuna wasn't far behind.

Was it her quirk? Her age? Was it him, and his inability to utilize all of his strength? Izuku screamed all these questions into the void, but he did not receive an answer.

Picking up his pen, he was careful to not squeeze too tight; it was already bent and awkward, and any more pressure might just snap the thing in two. In a fit, he flipped All Might's image to the back and began tearing through the questions.

It was like an insult. Quirk restrictions, license accruements, Samaritan limits, process and lawful arrests, it was the most basic garbage Izuku had ever seen. Fifty questions, half of them multiple choice and the other half written fell under his wild scribblings like a lightning rod, his pen furious thunder.

Five might've been right about one thing. He liked—perhaps loved—Setsuna, and would do anything to keep her out of danger. That didn't mean he'd treat her like a baby. They'd already betrayed her trust by keeping his secret from her, even as she laid her full faith before them.

He was done with keeping her out of the loop. Even if it meant her rejection, their separation, he would tell her, one way or another. One for All had bent the knee to All Might when he'd mastered it, and turned the quirk into his own. If it meant mastering the quirk and becoming its most powerful user to get its permission, then that was what he'd do.

The first step to that was clearing this test and joining class 1Z with Setsuna. They'd evolve beyond students; turn into real heroes, and he'd tell her. Everything. One for All, All Might, the Vestiges, even of his affections. It didn't matter to him if she didn't return them, so long as she knew. He didn't expect her to return them; it wasn't like he was her ideal partner. Still, dishonesty was a bad look on them both, and Izuku would not be seen wearing its ugly coat anymore.

This time, he was the first to turn in the test. Following him, not a single student turned the test in for another ten minutes. From what he'd seen, it was the fastest anyone had completed any of the exams, and he had no doubt Setsuna wasn't much further behind.

When the rest of the examinees caught up and Izuku was free once more, he reunited with his Setsuna. It was good to see a friendly face; most of his testing group had been stones of personality, quiet and under the radar.

The building guilt and frustration was still present when she attached herself to his hip, but now it was different. Whereas before they'd been obtrusive and imposing, now they were overshadowed by his resolution. Insecure thoughts clung to him like leeches, but even now his determination was plucking them, flicking them back to the fearful swamp they'd arrived from.

When Setsuna started babbling about the ups and downs of her exams, he felt different. His mind wasn't at ease, but he was no longer distracted by her simple presence or his overarching stress. Izuku felt in the moment; peaceful in his mind without Five's commentary. Laughter bounced between them as she told him of an over-excitable brunette, an uptight bluenette, and a gruff blonde that didn't seem to give a rat's ass about respecting the proctor. It seemed she had her hands full with personality; at the very least, he was happy she hadn't been bored.

It took a bit of wandering, but they found their mentors outside the building, waiting on a bench. Gran Torino glanced at Setsuna for a second, but his eyes locked onto Izuku's before either greeted the other.

"Finally." He said, his voice gruff and boiled. Torino leant into his cane as he stood, his short legs letting out a micro puff as his feet softened his fall to the ground. The bench was normal sized, to the small man's obvious chagrin. Izuku looked at him confused, an eye quirked.

"Uhm, excuse me? What do you mean?" He asked, looking from Torino to his other companions. Each gave him back the same look, like they were holding some knowledge he didn't. Nighteye pushed up his glasses, looking away as Torino shrugged and began walking away. Only Setsuna graced him with an answer.

"Well, you seemed kinda in your own head there for a sec. I was worried you were gonna fail 'cuz—"

"Ya look like yer balls finally dropped. Hurry on now." Gran Torino called over his shoulder, his voice growing further and further away as he continued to walk. A blush exploded onto his face just as Setsuna giggled beside him, a dozen onlookers's eyes now locked onto him. He pouted, just as Setsuna patted him on the shoulder.

"Forreal though, you seem better. What happened there? You seemed super tired this morning. Don't tell me they were handing out coffee on your floor and not mine."

She was no closer to him than normal, but at this moment he was hyper aware of her proximity. Her breath was on his jaw, tickling the mirror side of his scar, just as he could feel the warmth of her skin as it ghosted millimeters over his flank. His embarrassed flush faded a bit, but with her this close, it never went fully away.

"N-no, well… I guess that last test was a real eye-opener. We're—ah, we're, y'know, here. Here. At U.A., I mean. Makes me wanna show my best self at whatever the main exam is." He said, barely able to pull his eyes away from the depths of her own and point them towards the stone mystery. From this distance, a faint idea was budding, like Deja Vu. Was it hot outside?

"O-oh, yeah. I'm pumped. Let's do our best, yeah?" Setsuna replied, also turning her head to the same building. A redness blessed her cheeks, though with the way Izuku was sweating, that might just have been the weather.

Izuku could've sworn Nighteye rolled his eyes.

"Let's follow Sorahiko now." He said, cutting them off before any more small talk blossomed.

"Gotcha! We got this, dude!" Setsuna said, breaking off from his hip to follow; it seemed the exams beat her earlier resentment out of her. He watched her walk away, his feet not yet moving. She really was pretty.

The moment he took to admire her turned sour, however, as without her, the reality of his appearance seemed to attract onlookers. Being that this was a hero school, he'd forgone the prosthetic, but as the whispers slid into his ears like daggers, perhaps that'd been a mistake.

"Wait… is that one taking the test too? Why?"

"Hey, do you see that kid? Did he just come out of the exam room?"

"What's a cripple like that doing in a school like this?"

"Probably just someone's emotional support."

Perhaps he just had a good sense of hearing, or maybe the voices were less secretive than they thought. Every person who looked at him either double-taked or brushed his existence off, like he wasn't real. Izuku took their quiet insults on the chin, used to it, but his good mood dwindled a bit. He hadn't thought hero-hopefuls would be that cruel.

It didn't take long to catch up. Still, by the time he reached the entrance, Nighteye was impatiently tapping his foot outside, no Setsuna or Gran in sight. Slowing his speed walking to a stroll, Izuku gave Nighteye a questioning look.

"Where are they?" He asked, looking around. The only humanoids that remained were the statues, their marble capes frozen in a dramatic ripple. The tapping of Nighteye's foot slowed to a stop, but his arms remained crossed and stern.

"No one's allowed in unless their sponsor is with them—and that works backwards, too. The girl and Sorahiko are signed in; what were you doing that was so important as to waste everyone's time?"

Izuku's phantom forearm tickled; he scratched his nub. Nighteye's firm shoulders softened as his eyes flicked to his arm for a split second. The Pro Hero turned this way and that, looking at everyone still on the street. A good chunk were still staring. Huffing, he placed his hand on Izuku's good shoulder, steering him into the building.

"Sorry—"
"No, I shouldn't have left you alone. Let's just focus on the test."

It was only when they finally stepped into the building that it clicked. The feeling he got when he looked at this odd concrete building, that Deja Vu, that curiosity, it all made sense in a millisecond.

It'd collapsed centuries ago, but one of the old wonders of the world, The Colosseum, was an obvious inspiration.

A massive dirt circle was crowned by stadium-like seats, the stands filled with dozens upon dozens of heroes and hero-hopefuls. Izuku squinted, unable to make out any of the spectators opposite to him, but he thought he might've seen Ingenium to his left. The roof was littered with massive lights, reminding him of an astronomer's model in the Aerospace Museum across Tokyo. Each light was a burning star, illuminating everything almost as well as the very sun might.

"Wow…" Izuku said, his voice breathy and light. Nighteye nodded beside him. Turning around, Izuku noticed there were no more students lining up behind them.

Nighteye took out his wallet, flicking his license out with a finger. Izuku watched, wide-eyed as he slipped it through a greeter's machine like a credit card. The machine made one, two, three beeps of increasing magnitude, and then the world went dark.

Gasps wrang across The Colosseum, teenaged and adult voices grating against his ears alike. As for Izuku, he remained calm, but only with the help of Danger Sense, which didn't even tickle.

As soon as Izuku's eyes adjusted to the darkness, a single beam of light shot into the center of the facility. Two hard blinks later, and Izuku's jaw dropped. His eyes were only able to make out each detail one by one, but when they did, it felt like a blast from the past.

A blonde tuft of hair, a leather jacket, and a microphone was all he could make out from this distance, but it was enough.

"Helllloooooooo Listeners! Colleagues and hopefuls alike, welcome to the very first U.A. Z Class Exaaammmmmmm!" Present Mic screamed, his voice booming around the stadium like a bomb. "With Sir Nighteye, we've got all who've registered for the test! Let the slaughter… beginnnnnnn! Contest One, Bakugo Katsuki, come on dowwnnnn! Your first opponent is… drum roll please… Pro Hero Snipe!"

Izuku felt his jaw drop even further, scraping against the floor. Not only was his old classmate here, but…

"Wait, we're fighting pros?"

[x]

AN: I really wanted to fit this poetic line somewhere in there "She was an angel in all but wings, but even then she could fly." I think its cute, and I don't know if anyone's said it before me, but I came up with it last month. Unfortunately, it was far too corny for the chapter. I promise you: i tried to slip it in, but no matter where I put it, it didn't work. So you get it in the author's note.

The entrance exam arc is here, as promised at chapter thirty. My editing software didn't work today, so I just had to wing-it. Hope it doesn't sound too much worse than normal, its a bit more raw.

Review! Im currently panicking because the next mini arc is going to require a lot of brain power to wing-it.