The envelope rests in my palm like the world's most lightweight life sentence. The contents of its packaging will single-handedly determine the course of the next three years of my life, good or bad. To say there's a lot riding on whatever's written inside is a huge understatement.

My mother had charged into my room around an hour ago like an anxious bat out of hell to deliver it to me, and I've been slumped over it just staring ever since. Now that it's finally here after what's felt like the longest week of my entire life, despite my conviction right after the exam, I find myself oddly stymied now that the moment of truth has finally come. My mother must surely be expecting a glum outcome by now.

The thing is, that could very well be the case. I've been putting on a brave face, but deep down I know there is a very likely possibility that all my hopes and dreams at U.A. could end right here before they even have the chance to begin. And that reality is...sobering. Hence, my hesitation. Heh...can't remember the last time I felt so out of sorts. Not a good feeling. Not at all.

But...there's no point in just wasting away here under the weight of the anticipation any longer. Like it or not, all good things must come to an end sooner or later. I guess I'd just hoped that it wouldn't be so soon. Geez...I really am all out of sorts.

Shaking the muck from my mind, I steel my resolve and prepare myself mentally for the results to come as my warm, stiff fingers rend the envelope in two.

-oOo-

"I AM HERE...in projection form!"

The miniature sight before me stretches upward from the rounded plane of what is clearly a projection device. All Might's smaller though no less dazzlingly iconic grin beams up at me from within the bright glow of the projection screen's two-dimensional surface. As usual, U.A. spares no expense. They can't at all go about relaying messages the normal way of a simple letter. They always have to do it up big in the flashiest way possible.

"Greetings, young lady! It is my great pleasure to relay this message to you as a brand new U.A. faculty member!" His statement is punctuated by an ungodly amount of flexing in his pressed, smart yellow suit, lofty tone of voice as grand as his legend.

Gazing down at his posed form, somehow All Might seems right at home as their newest staff member. I guess all the rumors of his upcoming status as a U.A. instructor were right on the money.

"Let's jump right into the results of your examination, shall we? You gave an impressive performance on the written portion of the exam and passed with flying colors, however..."

I sit ramrod straight as All Might's speech trails off into a pause as if for dramatic effect. The moment of truth.

"...Despite your stellar performance, you only managed to score twenty-five points for the practical portion of the exam. I'm sorry, young lady, but that wasn't enough for acceptance."

As All Might's tone descends down into somberness, I can feel the minuscule tightening around my lids as my eyes narrow under the weight of his words. So that's it then. There's the truth as I've known it; a mere twenty-five points was nowhere near enough. I knew this, but...wait a minute...twenty-five? "Twenty-five"?

An image of messy purple hair and fatigued features steals its way to the forefront of my mind. Twin robotic figures tumble languidly to the ground in my mind as if in slow-motion replay—that's right. I'd saved that Shinsou guy from two more one-pointers, didn't I? Was...did that not count? Wait a minute.

The sudden, subtle shift of All Might's demeanor as his expression begins to lose its prior hardened edge heaves my speculations upward into outright suspicion. Don't tell me...

"...Is what I would say had there not been another factor at play!" Frickin' A...somehow the jovial lilt to his tone just makes it even worse. Troll move, All Might. So then...

"Fortunately, combat was not the only way to score points during the practical exam. There was another important criteria at work—one which bears great importance in the world of hero work."

All Might pivots his body to face sideways, revealing a video feed positioned behind him. On the feed are clips of my interactions with the invisible girl and Shinsou. Oh. Oh...I had helped the both of them out of a tight spot. And the invisible girl—I had even forgotten about her. Yes...I helped them both. Of course.

"Rescue—" The video terminates just as All Might launches back into his explanations, facing the screen again with his giant fists placed on his hips. "—It is a task which can make the difference between life and death. And it's a task that U.A. Academy, my alma mater, knows all about."

I pause as All Might's figure fades away to reveal an overlay screen filled to the brim with rows of names numbered from eleven to twenty. Within a two column arrangement next to each name are the words "villain" and "rescue" in glaring, green, digital print, underneath which are a tally of points. I find my name nearly smack dab in the middle of the listings at number sixteen. My points are...

"The totals are divided into scores of villain and rescue points. Yukie Haruna, you scored twenty-five villain points and twenty rescue points, giving you a grand total of forty-five points!"

Ahh, I see now. Those two other points from rescuing Shinsou weren't applied to my villain point total. However these rescue points are calculated, that's what it went toward. Clever.

The points screen vanishes as All Might's great, grinning countenance nears the camera and his left arm thrusts forward, palm turned upward and fingers curled in a beckoning gesture.

"Congratulations, you've passed the U.A. entrance exam. Welcome to your hero academia."

As if signaled by his statement, the recording terminates and the projection fades into nonexistence, plunging the room into total silence.

"Are you freaking kidding me…" I almost can't even help the mutter which breaks forth from my lips. Of course there'd be another element to this test. Of course it'd be the one thing they keep hidden. And of course it'd be the thing that ultimately keeps me afloat in this sea of uncertainty. Geez.

My head hits the desk with a dizzying thud as my tired eyes drop closed. All that worrying for nothing. I do not like to worry. Still, as my body slumps backward into my desk chair and my head comes to rest atop its backrest, I can't deny the sensation of great and utter relief hitting me with the strength of ten trucks. The stress finally drains from my taut shoulders as a prolonged sigh bursts forth from my lips.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Haruna, sweetie?"

A sharp rapping draws my heavy-lidded orbs from the white, tiled ceiling over to the bedroom door.

Tap, tap, tap. More knocking.

"Honey, open up."

The desk chair glides backward on its four wheels to collide with the bed as my bare feet carry me over to the bedroom entrance. My mother emerges from beyond the door as I swing it open.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything. It's just…" She trails off as both arms hook behind her back, contrite expression morphing into a complicated mixture of joy and...something I can't quite place.

"So you were listening." I had been in there for a while. Only natural she'd come up to investigate.

She acknowledges my words with an affirming nod before a subtle break in her demeanor causes me to pause. I feel my features pull into a puzzled expression as her body launches into a fit of slight trembles, arms moving to caress her middle as her head lowers to conceal her face. The moment fat, wet droplets hit the floor is when I begin to comprehend that strange expression from before. Her head rises to pin my frame with glistening, azure orbs of arduous intensity, and I can finally put a name to the look as it settles before me fully unrestrained—gladness. Joy and pure, tearful, heart-rending gladness.

"My beautiful baby's going to be attending U.A. Academy...I can't believe it." Her voice rings out with a tender, cheerful timbre, countenance drawing into shaky elation.

"Come on, Mom, keep it together," I urge, but I don't fight it as her arms seize my body in a blistering embrace, face burrowing into my right shoulder.

As her tears saturate my shoulder in sopping pools of literal pouring sentiment, my arms encircle her waist as I think back on how close I came to non-acceptance. Perhaps my mother's outpouring of emotion is beginning to get to me. Perhaps my earlier worry scared me more than I'd like to admit. One thing's for certain, though, I need to work harder. Much harder.

"In other news, earlier this morning, U.A. Academy gave official confirmation on a recent rumor that the number one hero, All Might, will be joining the ranks of its student faculty. Principal Ne—"

"Have you finished getting ready, sweetie? It's getting close to go time, you know."

I swivel around to face my mother, visible over the couchtop, as I drop the remote control back down to the coffee table's glossy surface.

"Don't worry. My stuff's already packed and ready. I was just watching the news for a bit." It can be quite informative to tune into the early morning hero news on HNN, the Hero News Network, which airs shortly before school time. The segments they do at this time of day are largely dedicated to the recent happenings of prominent (or even lesser known) figures in the hero industry, so it can be a very useful way of keeping informed on the day to day occurrences.

"Oh, I can set that to record for you, if you'd like. I know how much you like to watch it," she offers, strolling around to stand next to the table.

"'Kay."

I shoulder my bag as I rise to face her lithe frame, smoothing out my crinkled, green uniform skirt. Gazing up at her serene face, it's easy to see that the joy has not faded even months after my acceptance to U.A.'s hero course.

"I hope today goes great for you. I'm so proud of you." She peers back at me with crystal clear eyes overflowing with affection. A moment's pause and her bright gaze begins to contort into a tear-filled expression. Oh no.

"Mom, please don't start this again. Can't you see me off with a smile on the big day?" I'm afraid I can't help the exasperation that colors my tone, though I can feel the slightest hint of a smile seeking to edge its way through my frown. She's always like this, the mother hen. Though, I suppose it is rather cute...

She swipes an arm across her eyes, tears clearing away into a dazzling smile. There we go.

"You're right. Good luck, dear," she titters, fully returning to her jovial mood.

At my acknowledging nod, she waves me off as I saunter my way through the room and to the foyer, sparing her one last glance before unlatching the door to the world and my awaiting future.

Inside the illustrious first year hall of U.A. Academy, the class 1-A door soars over my head like a foreboding pillar, much like the doors that hang over the entrance of the school. Perhaps the ridiculous height of these doorways is to remind students to set their eyes on the skies in pursuit of greatness—to "Go beyond! Plus ultra!", as they say. Could also be in case there are ever any obscenely tall students, but the other possibility is more poetic, so I think I'll just go with that one.

Vibrations nip at my fingers as the door glides to the left with a rumbling resonance, and the hero course classroom emerges in its full splendor. Well, it...actually looks pretty much like a regular old classroom with its four rows of desks, back of the room cubbies and broom closet, and teacher's podium erected on a platform at the forefront of the room. Very standard, actually. I suppose everything about this school can't be over the top.

It seems quite a few of the other students have already arrived, their eyes turning to pin me with a collective curiosity from their seats. Most of them lose interest and return back to readying themselves for class, but several pairs of eyes linger even as I plod over to an empty desk at the front of the third row, sliding my backpack down to the polished, blue floor and under the desk. My eyes drop closed as my body sinks comfortably down into my seat, ready to tune out the world around me.

"Oh, it's you!"

I can't help but snap back to attention at the excited utterance, glancing over to my left at the source of the sudden shout. Seated next to me is what appears to be a girl donning the U.A. gray vest and green skirted uniform. I say "what appears to be" because, outside of her outfit, the rest of her is completely invisible to the naked eye. Oh. This person is...

"I've been wondering about you. It's super awesome that you passed the exam! I'm glad we'll actually get to be in the same class together!" The sleeves of her top bob up and down a bit as if to emphasize her words. She was like this last time, too. For someone so invisible, she certainly does seem to have quite animated body language.

"Oh man, I'm so excited for this!" she proclaims, still excitedly gesturing. "I'm really curious what all they'll have in store for us. How about you?"

This is usually the part where I just sort of withdraw from the conversation entirely and let the chatter fade into the background. I've never been one for much idle interaction with others. Or I suppose it'd be more accurate to say that I've never had much luck with that type of thing. Just hasn't ever worked out too well for me...

"Um, hello?"

But...remembering how much this person has contributed to where I am today—inadvertent though it may have been—I can't find it within myself to just...shut her out like usual. My eyes lock onto where I expect her face to be as I make the decision to fully face her now hesitant form.

"...Yukie."

A confused "Huh?" is my only response.

"Yukie Haruna. That's my name. What's yours?" I do my best to imbue my voice with as much of an inviting tone as possible, though I'm not sure how much I succeed at that considering how she still seems a bit hesitant judging by her subdued demeanor.

"Oh, I'm Hagakure Toru! But you can call me Toru, if you'd like." One arm bends inward towards her chest like she's using a hand to gesture to herself. "I don't mind at all!"

Nevermind. I guess she was just a bit thrown by the subject change. In that case…

"Same to you. I don't mind being addressed by my given name. Up to you."

"Good to officially meet you, Haruna-chan!" Her bubbly voice veers off into a cheerful giggle. She really is quite upbeat.

The sound of footsteps halting near my desk draws my attention to the figure standing next to it. Looming over me is a very tall, wide framed guy with neatly styled, dark blue hair and square glasses. Hm, it would appear that he's here as well. The expression on his face seems just as severe as I remember it being from orientation. Makes me wonder if his face is just always like that.

"Good morning. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but I felt it best to also introduce myself," he asserts, tone of voice the epitome of earnestness. "My name is Iida Tenya. I am from Somei Private Academy."

Not exactly sure why he's approached me of all people, but it'd be rude not to introduce myself, at least.

"I'm—"

"Yukie Haruna-san, correct?" I blink. "Forgive me, but I overheard a bit of your conversation with Hagakure-san." I nod in response.

"I couldn't help but recognize you from the entrance exam orientation. It's good to see you made it through."

"Same here," is my laconic response.

"I also note that you managed to make it to class on time today. I recall that you were nearly tardy that day. I hope it will not be a sign of things to come, Yukie-san." He readjusts his glasses as his eyes peer down at me with an uncomfortably intent gaze—made only worse by his sharply hooked eyebrows. Huh. I believe I have just discovered the reason for his glare that day. Funny, I remember hoping the exact same thing.

I'm spared from his sharp stare when a guy with spiky, blond hair plants his feet on his desk, reclining in his seat without a care in the world. Like a switch being flipped, Iida marches swiftly over to him, face set into a firm scowl.

"Remove your feet from the desk this instant!"

"Huh?" Not a regular "Huh?", oh no. The blond lets the word's intonation stroll upward to a condescendingly trailing inflection, goading smirk on his face all the while. One of those types, I take it.

If anything, this only invigorates Iida's rant against him. "This is the first day of class and yet you've already begun to disrespect school property like some miscreant."

"Ha! What's with you, huh? Does every person from your school have a stick so far up their ass? Or is it just you?"

Very crass, but...kinda accurate. Iida definitely does seem like the wettest of wet blankets. He's pretty sopping wet, actually.

My arm props my chin up on my desk as my eyes droop closed and I tune them both out, letting it all fade into white noise.

The, uh, "conversation" taking place near me peters out into nonexistence as a boy appears in the doorway. Both of them fall silent as they stare—or "glare" on the blond's part—at his slight frame. I do believe this is the green-haired kid who was on the unfortunate end of Iida's tirade during the exam. Looking at his tensed shoulders and stiff demeanor, he seems every bit as nervously awkward as before.

As Iida marches over to once again confront the small boy, I find myself hoping he's not going to begin chastising him the way he did before, but their conversation seems remarkably more civil. It isn't until a lively, brown-haired girl with her hair in a shoulder length bob cut shows up at the door to join in on their discussion that our apparent teacher finally arrives, dragging himself out of a big, bloated-looking yellow sleeping bag on the floor. That is...different.

"I'm Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom instructor. Nice to meet you." His near toneless, dragging cadence seems just as weary as his, frankly, exhausted demeanor. With his droopy, black eyes and flat facial expression, this guy kinda looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.

He pulls what looks to be a gym uniform from his oversized sleeping bag and holds it up for the class to see. "I realize this is a bit sudden, but each one of you will find one of these placed inside your desks. Put them on then meet me outside at the P.E. fields."

Without another word, our drowsy teacher slumps away back down the hall, leaving a silent room behind. There's a beat of inactivity before the sound of desk tops opening and chairs gliding against the floor scrapes through the silence as my classmates begin to file out of the room one by one. I take a moment to observe the design of my own uniform—bright, white lettering contrasts sharply against a deep blue backdrop coloring the body of the outfit. The white portions draw themselves into the school initials, the U stripping itself across the shoulders and chest above the A, which stretches down from the mid portion of the top. Adjusting my uniform so that the shirt is placed above the pants, I can see that the long, white strips extending down the length of the bottoms are meant to simulate the A itself stretching down that far. Pretty distinctive design.

"Haruna-chan, you coming?"

A high-pitched voice to my left reveals Hagakure stood right next to my desk, her uniform slung over the sleeve of her vest. It seems she's decided to wait for me.

I decide not to delay us any longer and pull myself up from my seat, pushing my chair back into place before following her invisible figure to the girl's locker room.

You know, I've talked a bit about U.A.'s reputation as the best of the best in terms of hero schools and how grand its presentation can tend to be. Well, nothing's grander than seeing the extensiveness of its campus in person. We were sort of prepared for this beforehand; the school makes it a point to prepare each student in advance by mailing out what it deems a "welcome pack" shortly before the start of the school year in April. The exact contents of the pack differ a bit according to student division—Heroics, Support, Gen Ed, or Business—but there are elements which remain the same for all students, including a map of the entire campus.

It's because of this map that we know where to go to join Aizawa-sensei at the P.E. grounds, which span the length of a dirt field positioned right next to the main building's northwest side and also house a big, square, convex-roofed building for inside activities.

As we make our collective way down the stairs leading from the school to the P.E. field, our teacher's black form becomes clear. He's stood next to a couple of pitching circles, lines of white tape stretching forth from the circles in a cone shaped arrangement to mark the distance of a throw. Looks like we're in for something interesting. I suspect this won't be the basic, quirkless P.E. exercises we're all used to by now. This is the hero course, after all.

"Now that you're all here, I'll just get right into it." He stands slouched at the head of our group of twenty a short distance away. "We'll be undergoing a quirk assessment test."

His statement is met with a large amount of disbelief, more than a few students voicing their surprise out loud.

"But, wait a minute, what about the orientation? We'll miss it!" the girl with the brown bob cut questions, referring to the school wide, morning meeting to kick off the school year mentioned in our welcome letters.

Aizawa-sensei turns his back to us, hands shoved into his pockets. "If it's the big leagues you're after then you don't have time to waste on things like ceremonies. Here at U.A., we operate according to what is deemed best for the growth of the students rather than the traditional way of doing things. That means…"

He peers over his shoulder at us with a stern gaze. "...I run my class however I see fit. Understood?" Several gasps and whispers permeate the air around us.

With no further comments from his students, Aizawa-sensei launches further into what it is we'll be doing here. Sure enough, we'll be retracing all the familiar P.E. exercises of our middle school physical exams, only this time we're being challenged to use our quirks to enhance our performance. Hmm...if that's the case, I might not do too well here, I think. My quirk doesn't really lend well to physical activities such as these. It's a lot more...supportive.

"DIE!"

Hot air hits my face and my hair blows back as the booming wail of a deafening explosion peals through the atmosphere, punting a softball through the air and well out of sight of the pitching circle bounds. The blond-haired guy's body returns upright from its prior pitching position as Aizawa-sensei's black cell displays the results of his throw with a soft ping.

"Whoa, 705 meters, are you serious?" exclaims a guy with a black marking like a lightning bolt tearing through his blond hair next to a tall girl with a spiky, thick, black ponytail.

"Know what your abilities are capable of," Aizawa-sensei instructs, once again pocketing the device. "It's the most logical way of determining where you stand as pro-heroes in training."

As my peers begin exclaiming their excitement for the tests, I muse on how fitting it is that the blond-haired guy—I think sensei called him Bakugo?—would have such a violently flashy quirk. Suits his personality well. I've always found it fascinating how people's quirks can tend to align so closely with their personalities. Take mine, for example—it's mostly subtle with a quiet presence.

"So this is like a game to you all, is it? "Fun"?

Our instructor begins practically oozing his displeasure into the elated atmosphere. Uh oh.

"With only three years to become a Pro-Hero, do you all think you have the time to be playing around as if your time here isn't limited?"

The expression on his face, having been so listless until now, morphs into a picture of smirking delight as his black eyes emit an eerie gleam. That's...mildly chilling. Why do I get the feeling this guy's about to get devious?

"Fine then…" he drawls. "New rule: after the eight physical tests you will perform here today, whoever falls into last place will be viewed as having zero potential...and will be expelled immediately."

...Thaaat's because he is. Oof.

If my peers were shocked before, then that shock transforms into a whirlwind of outrage as a chorus of "Huh?"s and "What?!"s ring out in the morning air. If anything, it only fuels Aizawa-sensei's creepy grin.

"Welcome to the U.A. hero course!" The shadows that cast over his face while a hand pulls his bangs away from his forehead as he leers down at us seem to thrust that demented grin into outright eldritch creepiness. Geez. Hopefully, we all survive this creepypasta of a demented instructor long enough to make it through our first day unscathed.

-oOo-

First up is a romp around the running track for the 50 meter dash. By the time my turn rolls around, a plan has formed in my mind for how I might be able to take advantage of my quirk here. My running partner is the green-haired kid—Midoriya, I think—who has an unsure look on his face. It makes me curious to know if he might be struggling to come up with a way of putting his quirk to good use here.

The three-legged measuring device on the other end of the track begins its countdown and we both assume our running positions in our separate lanes. Upon receiving the order to start, I dart down the track on nothing but the force of my own sprinting legs, coming up just behind Midoriya. My eyes snap shut as my mind zeroes in on the warmth beginning to pool outward from deep within my body.

"Swell outward...Solidify!"

I feel its presence as my shield manifests behind my running form, and with the force of a racing bull, I coax my power into a brisk lunge straight into my back. My airborne body quickly overtakes Midoriya's speed as I touch back down near the finish point, crossing the line about two seconds later.

"5.92 seconds!"

Midoriya collapses to his knees as the bot announces his time to be around two seconds behind mine. As he catches his breath, I ruminate on my results. Compared to my usual dash score of around eight seconds, it's quite the improvement. It's a pretty respectable score, especially when I consider the fact that it seems to align with the overall class performance for this test outside of Iida's ridiculous 3.04 second run. By my estimations, my score falls somewhere within the midpoint of everyone's times.

The grip strength test turns out a lot less favorably, with my reading of 29.9 kilos falling into the lower end of the overall scores. Unfortunately, there's just no way I can use my quirk to stand out here. My saving grace is the fact that my score is actually somewhat average for the girls' scores save for the black-haired girl, whose quirk seems to allow her to extract objects from her body. Being able to crush the grip tester under the weight of a compression device is just unfair, though it pales in comparison to the 540 kilograms of a guy with multiple arms attached by octopus-like webs of skin. Super strong guy, that one.

The standing long jump takes place over a long sandpit. As I wait for my cue, my power once again takes shape directly behind my erect body, materializing with a sharp shhhing! of violet energy.

"Ready? Go!"

Upon the cue, the shield barrels into my waiting form, propelling my body into swift flight as the wind whips my long hair back and forth behind me. I come to rest several meters beyond the pit as I pivot to face the class gathered on its other side, beginning the trek back over.

The chattering of the other students melds into the background as I contemplate the class performance. Even though I'd cleared the sandpit myself, turns out it doesn't mean all that much when I consider the fact that around half the class manages to achieve the same, with noteworthy standouts being the frog girl, Bakugo, the girl with the ponytail, and many more than that. With how exceptional my classmates' abilities are, clearing the pit is the least of what you could do to achieve even an average result, even though it's the most of what I could accomplish. And with that thought, it's beginning to set in how little my own abilities stand out among the crowd of my peers.

That reality only sinks in further when I fail to achieve a favorable standing for the repeated side steps test.

Shimmering flickers of tiny motes of light rain down upon me as my shield evaporates over my head, having rammed into the ball after my throw. Aizawa-sensei announces the results of my pitch, blipping on his handheld device at 205.6 meters, and I make my way back to the gathering of my peers, assembled just outside the pitching circle.

This whole time, I've been carefully keeping track of where I stand with my skills. I came into this expecting not to make much of a splash, so how is it that seeing how well my peers have managed these tests compared to me fills me with something other than acceptance? What's with this sense of unease I feel? That unease pitches upward into outright frustration as Midoriya's throw hurdles into a storming gale of snapping winds and biting force from the strength of his quirk, his ball coming to land more than 700 meters away. Even Midoriya, who's been firmly at the bottom performance-wise this whole time, manages to pull off an impressive display of the might and worth of his quirk. And it sort of leaves me wondering where that leaves me?

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but love for what I can do as a hero in training, but as a potential pro-hero? As I watch my classmates cry out in amazement over Midoriya's throw, I come to the stark realization that what I can do just doesn't seem enough…

"Here are the results, ranked from best to worst."

The hologram sprouts forth from the tip of Aizawa-sensei's mobile device, and we all gather round to view the listings.

I find my name just three places above last at number 17.

"Oh, and, uh, by the way, no one's being expelled." That creepy grin returns with a vengeance. "It was a ruse—to make sure none of you slacked off on the effort." The disbelief is nearly palpable. Midoriya in particular looks like somebody just took the world's rudest dump on his most prized possession then slathered it all over his bedroom walls for good measure. His face right now kinda reminds me of that super old, famous painting of the guy with the super agonized look on his face. I think it was called "The Scream"? It's pretty comical, actually.

"Wait, you guys didn't realize it was a lie? It should have been obvious if you just thought it through a little bit more," the girl with the spiky ponytail informs us, eyes directed over to the most visibly bothered of the bunch. Doesn't seem to help their incredulity any as a few of them side-eye her.

Aizawa-sensei calls it quits for the day and dismisses us back to our half-day of school, everyone beginning a slow trudge back. As the first day, the rest of the day's events consist of nothing more than short periods of class meant to orient us to what we can expect from the rest of the school year. Looking around at everybody's slumped shoulders and lazy gaits, that's probably a good thing. It's clear the fatigue has begun to set in after a morning full of nothing but physical activity.

The mood picks up a bit as a steady chatter kicks up over the day's events. Hagakure appears at my side within the group's middle.

"Maaaan, can you believe that guy? What a dirty trick to pull!" Not being able to see her face makes it harder to tell her moods. Or it would if she weren't so expressive in literally every other way, like the clear agitation present in her voice.

"I guess it's not so bad now that no one's actually going home. So it kinda works out, ya know?" I simply nod and turn back forward, thoughts returning to the results of the exam. 17th place. Near the absolute bottom...

The sensation of a hand on my sleeve breaks through my musings, drawing my focus back to my left, where an empty sleeve stretches out toward my arm.

"You okay?" My sight levels with where her face should be as the sensation leaves and her arm drops back down. "You seem like you've been kinda in your thoughts this whole time."

...Has it been obvious?

"You just seem to have this subdued air about you. I mean, I can tell you're already a quiet person, but it's just something about the way you've been looking at the ground a lot," she assesses, tone softly contemplative.

She's been paying that much attention to me? I see…A pregnant pause ensues as I mull over her words. I suppose I have been sort of...bothered.

"If it's your ranking you're thinking about, I don't think you should worry. It's just the first day! I'm sure we'll all get the chance to grow and learn." Both sleeves bend inward toward her chest as if she's clenching both fists. "That's what we're here for, after all!"

She's not wrong. I can't deny the truth in her words. And all in all, I didn't do as bad as I was expecting to, so there's that, at least. But that's the thing; the fact that I was expecting to do worse than I did just...it doesn't sit well with me. Between the entrance exam and this? One thing's for sure, if I don't find some way of stepping things up, I'm going to have a hard time keeping pace with my peers let alone becoming a pro-hero.

Witnessing her enthusiastic demeanor and cheerful disposition, I don't voice my thoughts out loud, though. No sense in raining on her parade. As right as she is, this feeling is just one I can't shake.

In this life, I guess you just don't realize how much you lack until you're confronted by the success and ability of others. My gaze falls forward onto the backs of my fellow pro-heroes in training, the people who, for the next three years, I will strive alongside to carve out a life in the world of heroes and fight for my place at the top. They're all so amazing, each one a shining beacon that could easily drown out my muted presence...I will make sure that I don't fall behind.