UA High School. The number one hero school in Japan.
After years of rigorous training, he was finally here; he was finally ready.
His thick, unkempt black hair fluttered slightly in the breeze as he stood before the imposing gates, his left eye the only one showing from behind his fringe. The day of the Entrance Exam had arrived—and he had every intention of passing, fair and square.
His ruby-red gaze moved down to his hands, sticking out from a black, loose-fitting two-piece uniform. He'd been born without powers, and yet…
… And yet, despite that, I've already made it this far.
Despite everything… I'm still here.
He clenched his fist tightly, and his face contorted in an unreadable expression as he lost himself in his thoughts.
Mom… Sensei… I'll make it through today. I promise.
"If you're gonna just stand around like that, move out of the way," a surly male voice around his age muttered. "Other people are passing through."
He raised his head with a start and a small sound somewhere between a squeak and a gasp. I didn't stand still that long…! Did I?
"S-sorry…" His head lowered slightly, and turned around in equal measure to see who had addressed him as he walked past. "I'll get—"
He froze. His eyes widened in dumbstruck disbelief as he saw the face moving on past him.
No way…!
Spiky, ash-blond hair like the quills of an African hedgehog greeted his view, angular eyes with a suspiciously similar color to his own focused dead ahead of their owner.
He followed him with his own. If the guy had noticed him staring, he wasn't showing it—he just continued to walk on, unabated.
"… Kacchan?" he almost whispered.
The ash-blond froze up in turn, as if recognising the name. Slowly, tensely, he turned around to see who had said it.
But there was no-one standing behind him.
"… Huh?"
He looked around, as if hoping to catch the head of black hair that had stood in his way a moment earlier.
The owner of said head looked at him from the doors of the building, his face set in a distraught, frustrated look half-hidden by his hair. No-one had noticed him sneaking up to the doors.
I can't believe I said that out loud, he chastised himself as he grit his teeth. Sensei was right—I'm way too reckless sometimes.
He took a breath, and turned around slightly to look back at the ash-blond—now standing still himself as he looked around—his mind wandered back to earlier times.
Kacchan, he thought to himself. How long has it been…?
He turned around and continued onward with a sigh.
Maybe I'll see you on the other side. I just hope you don't hate me for this, if you ever recognise me.
Is that… Present Mic? He allowed himself a slight grin as he listened to the pro-hero trying (and failing) to gain an audible reaction from the examinees. I listen to his show every week! He's teaching here too?
He was especially glad for the distraction, seeing as it kept his attention off of the ash-blond sitting right next to him and the subtle gaze he was sending his way; the darkness of the room, alongside the thickness of his hair, kept the same from seeing his face—that would have opened a whole can of worms he was sure neither of them was ready for.
His attention was further grabbed by a tall, squarely-built student a few rows ahead standing up as straight as a rod with his hand raised just as directly, quickly followed by a spotlight shining on the same.
What's his deal…? He blinked.
Unbeknowst to him, the ash-blonde was still deep in troubled thoughts on what had happened earlier that morning.
So, he thought to himself as the bus rumbled around him. We're smashing robots. Sounds straightforward enough. Shouldn't be too much trouble.
He looked down at his hands again, now popping out the sleeves of a dark orange jumpsuit.
I say that—or think it, anyway—but still: with the risks of injury these kinds of exams have, I can't afford to be too reckless. I don't want my career to be over before it even begins.
He clenched them into fists as his gaze intensified.
I have to be careful. I may have everything I need to pass, but this is a bad time to do a test run on all of it. I'll have to keep it simple.
He brought two fingers to his chin, resting the elbow atop the knee.
I'll stick with… that, that, and that. Those should all work well enough.
With his mind made up, he straightened up with a determined glow in his crimson eyes.
With these tools in hand, I'll definitely pass this exam!
As he thought this, the bus finally came to a halt.
It was time to begin.
Mikumo Akatani, this is your time to shine!
Katsuki Bakugou did not believe in ghosts, and plenty of people had curly hair. With that in mind, it was no surprise he'd tried not to think too much about the guy in front of him at the gates, at first.
That came crashing down like a bomb from a plane the moment he'd heard that name. The nickname he'd grown up with since preschool. The one hadn't heard since he was nine years old. There was only one person who'd ever called him that for that long.
But he'd been dead since he'd moved out with his mother. Katsuki had attended their funeral. He'd seen their coffins. He'd watched them lower into the ground. It had eaten away at him for God knows how long.
He hated thinking about it. He hated remembering how it had all come to that. He hated keeping it all to himself, letting it eat away at his soul. He hated not telling anyone, even his own parents, what had happened. He hated living with the knowledge that it was all his fault.
He hated himself.
And having the guy who'd so easily brought up those memories just by standing there do so even more focrefully against Katsuki's internal attempts at suppressing them, by saying that name…
The guy had seemingly disappeared until they ended up sat next to one another in the prep hall for the practical exam. He hadn't heard a peep out of the guy then, and it didn't seem like he was paying Katsuki any attention, either.
Either he was finally going insane, or ghosts were, in fact, real.
He hoped it was the former. He could at least try and do something about that.
It probably is, he reasoned to himself as he sat on the bus. As long as I just focus on this exam, I'll be fine.
He looked down at his hands. In another life, he'd be making small sparks from the nitroglycerin-like sweat on his palms, appreciating their warm glow and the power they held within them.
Here, they were trembling from the cold in his blood, and the sweat was pouring unignited.
He clenched his fists as he squeezed his eyes shut with a sharp intake of air.
After a few seconds of letting the tension loosen in his body, he let it out again.
He opened his ruby-red eyes.
Whatever's going on… I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I have to focus on passing this exam.
He unclenched his hands, staring intensely at his palms as the sweat now spread evenly across them.
Katsuki Bakugou… it's showtime.