Izuku had gotten ready for the test. He knew that he had to show what he could do. That this was his chance to show his capabilities and potential. If he could do that, he could perhaps win the respect of his classmates. Yet, most importantly he was curious where he stood after all his training with Yamcha. He saw the first test was a fifty-meter dash. It didn't seem that long as he stretched, he looked at his classmates and gave them a smile as he wanted to be ready for whatever came about the contest.
"Well, here goes right everyone," Izuku said mostly to himself as he could see everyone else around him getting ready for the various contests to see where they all placed in comparison with each other.
Izuku took a deep breath, calming his mind as he surveyed the other students. The 50-meter dash was up first, and he watched as some of his classmates, like Tenya Iida, stretched with a focused intensity that showed off their confidence in their quirks. Izuku felt a pang of nervousness—it was hard not to feel a bit out of place as the only quirkless student. Yet he reminded himself that he'd worked for a half a year on his ki control and martial arts, training his body to levels he knew would be surprising to anyone who underestimated him.
"Alright, let's see how fast you all really are," Aizawa called out, his voice flat but expectant.
The students lined up in pairs, each preparing for their run as Aizawa held the timer. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, and Izuku could feel the determination radiating from the others, all eager to prove themselves. Finally, it was his turn.
As he stepped up to the starting line, he could hear murmurs from a few of his classmates behind him, some curious, others dismissive.
"Without a quirk, what can he even do?" he heard someone whisper.
Izuku smiled softly to himself, focusing his mind. I've worked too hard to let this get to me. Just focus…
He steadied himself, channeling his energy and letting it flow through his legs and core. When Aizawa's signal sounded, he took off in an explosive burst, his speed leaving a faint trail of dust behind him. The air whipped around him as he shot forward, each stride carrying him smoothly and powerfully across the track.
When he crossed the finish line, he was breathing heavily but steadily. He looked back and saw some of his classmates staring in surprise.
"Whoa…he's pretty fast!" someone muttered.
Izuku caught his breath and gave a quiet, determined smile. He wasn't here to impress anyone but himself—he wanted to prove, even without a quirk, he could stand with the best.
The grip contest came up, and while again he didn't have the strongest grip, it was very high up on the list finishing in the top three of the list. He smiled quietly, his growing quiet confidence as he didn't feel like he needed to talk about just how impressive or strong he was. He just would let others see the results of his training.
As he did the standing long jump, he was able to really feel the difference of not having the shell on as he jumped up really high and far from the standing long jump as he landed far outside of the measuring area. Another high finish, as he went through the side steps as he did well again, finishing in the top half of the class once again.
As he waited, next was the time to throw the baseball as far as he could. He was near the end, after Bakugo, which was not the ideal spot as he waited in line with the blonde who had made his life so difficult at every level before this moment.
As Izuku waited for his turn, he watched Bakugo swagger up to the line, exuding the intense confidence that had always made him stand out—and, admittedly, made things difficult for Izuku in the past. Bakugo sneered as he picked up the baseball, rolling his shoulders and loosening up his arm, clearly eager to show off.
When Bakugo wound up and hurled the baseball, he unleashed his Explosion quirk, launching the ball with a fiery burst. The force was massive, and the ball shot out far beyond most of the other students' throws, drawing gasps from those watching. A proud smirk crept across his face as the distance was announced. He shot a triumphant look back at the other students, locking eyes with Izuku, his expression both dismissive and challenging.
"Well, Deku," Bakugo sneered, "let's see you even try to keep up."
Honestly, Izuku didn't much care about what Bakugo said, he remembered how much work he put in. He would let his own actions show his growth, and that he wasn't the same person as before. He walked up and picked up the ball, holding it firmly in his hands. He knew that his skills and abilities were not expected by anyone other than Aizawa, and the couple of people who saw him in the entrance exam. No one else knew about his capabilities.
Gripping the baseball firmly, Izuku felt the familiar flow of ki spread through his muscles, steadying him as he prepared. He'd trained rigorously for moments just like this, and he knew he didn't need a quirk to put his strength to the test. It was fitting that it was a baseball, when his teacher taught him ki control at first using a baseball.
With a quick, controlled wind-up, Izuku launched the baseball forward. He didn't need explosions, just pure physical power and technique. The ball soared through the air, leaving many of his classmates staring as it went farther than expected. When it finally landed, it was far past that of Bakugo's distance, and only behind Ochaco's which never would land.
"Whoa, I thought he didn't have a quirk?" someone whispered.
Bakugo's eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a hard line as he glared at Izuku with a mix of surprise and irritation. "Tch, you got some tricks, but don't think that means you're anything special," he muttered, though the faint edge in his voice betrayed a hint of discomfort.
Izuku gave him a quiet, polite nod, choosing not to respond to Bakugo's antagonism. He was here to prove something to himself, not to compete with anyone else—especially not his former bully.
As the final scores were announced, a hush fell over the class. Seeing Izuku—a quirkless student—come out on top sent ripples of surprise through the group. Most had only heard of quirkless people living ordinary lives; none had expected one to excel in a competition designed to push the limits of their physical abilities. Even Aizawa, typically hard to read, raised an eyebrow, showing a glimmer of recognition for Izuku's extraordinary effort and discipline.
The students glanced between one another, murmuring in surprise and admiration. Many had assumed someone with a powerful quirk would be the top finisher—Bakugo, perhaps, or Todoroki. But here was Izuku, calm and determined, standing at the front with no flashy powers, just the sheer strength of his training and will.
Bakugo, meanwhile, looked utterly incensed. What the hell had happened, this wasn't the Deku, he knew, not at all. What had happened, how had he gone from weak to strong. He was very vexed by it all. He felt his anger starting to rise as he looked in his generation direction, "Who the hell do you think you are? You don't even have a quirk, what makes you think you can compete with everyone else here!"
Izuku met Bakugo's glare calmly. "I worked hard," he replied, his tone steady but respectful. "That's all."
Bakugo was about to completely lose his cool, when Aizawa called the class to order, stepping in front of them with his usual unimpressed expression, though there was a slight hint of approval in his gaze as he looked at Izuku. "Well, congratulations to those who passed," he said. "You've completed the test, and from here on, I expect you to apply the same level of effort consistently. This is just the beginning."
He glanced around, his gaze lingering on Bakugo for a moment before moving on. "For those of you who were surprised by today's results, take it as a reminder: heroism isn't always about the flashiest quirk. It's about discipline, resilience, and growth."
Izuku felt a surge of pride and gratitude. For the first time in his life, his hard work and strength were being recognized without him needing a quirk. While he was glad to show off his abilities for other to see. That wasn't the main focus for the green haired youngster. His focus was getting strong, finding his path to being a hero, and being the best Izuku he could possibly be.
As Class 1-A filed into the room, Yamcha greeted them with a bright, almost boyish grin, hands on his hips and exuding a casual confidence. Beside him, Puar floated excitedly, giving cheerful waves to the students. Yamcha looked around at each new face, sizing up the future heroes with an amused twinkle in his eye.
"Welcome, Class 1-A, to the most dynamic class of your UA career!" he announced, giving a playful thumbs-up. "I'm Yamcha, your hand-to-hand combat instructor, here to make sure you're punchin' above your weight and kickin' bad habits… right out the door!"
Puar chimed in with a soft "Hi, everyone!" giving a little loop-de-loop in the air before settling down by Yamcha's shoulder.
"Now," Yamcha continued, "I know what you're probably thinking: 'Who is this handsome, dashing martial artist with a face carved by the gods and a… totally intentional scar that only adds to my roguish charm?'" He pointed at himself, making a finger gun gesture. "Well, don't worry—I get that reaction a lot."
The students gave him a range of reactions, from grins to raised eyebrows, but Yamcha didn't seem bothered in the least.
"Today, I'm going to be teaching you about getting down to basics. That means punches, kicks, and stamina! You've all got some flashy quirks, I bet, but trust me—you don't want to put all your eggs in one basket! Sometimes, the simplest punch can be just as effective as an explosive… er, explosion." He side-eyed Bakugo, who gave a loud 'Hah!' but didn't seem too disagreeable.
"And don't think I forgot about puns!" Yamcha continued with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "In this dojo, we're going to take things one step at a time, until we're kickin' it with the best! Don't worry; it's not like I'm going to karate-chop all your free time… okay, maybe just a little."
A few groans, a couple chuckles. Puar grinned, clearly enjoying Yamcha's antics.
"So, everyone ready to kickstart some martial arts basics? Because today, Class 1-A, we're going to turn you from a bunch of quirk-using kids into full-blown fighting machines!"
Puar hovered in front of the students and added, "Just try to keep up with us! Yamcha-sensei's pretty quick!"
Yamcha grinned at Puar's support. "Alright, let's hit the mats, Class 1-A! Time to punch your way into greatness!"
As Yamcha finished his intro, Bakugo's voice cut through the air with a sharp, irritated edge.
"What the hell is this?" Bakugo snarled, crossing his arms and glaring at Yamcha with his usual scowl. "Who even are you? Some washed-up martial artist playing at teaching us how to fight? I don't need a clown like you showing me anything! I've never even heard of you!" He smirked, arms crossed and voice dripping with disdain. "You don't look like you could handle half of us."
Yamcha, unfazed by Bakugo's attitude, chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "Alright, alright, hotshot, I get it—you're eager to see what I can do." He flashed Bakugo a laid-back grin. "Tell you what. I'll stand right here, hands in my pockets, and if you can land even one hit on me, I'll eat my words. How's that sound?"
Bakugo's smirk widened as he cracked his knuckles. "Fine by me. Don't say I didn't warn you." He lunged forward without a second thought, his palms crackling with explosive energy. "Let's see you dodge this, old man!"
With his hands tucked casually into his pockets, Yamcha simply sidestepped, leaning just far enough for Bakugo to miss by a hair. Bakugo swung again, this time with more force, trying to catch Yamcha off guard. But Yamcha seemed to move as naturally as breathing, his body weaving around Bakugo's attacks effortlessly.
"Too slow!" Yamcha taunted with a good-natured grin, bouncing lightly on his feet as he dodged another blast. "C'mon, you've got more in you than that, right?"
"Shut up!" Bakugo growled, frustration building as his palms sparked even brighter. He fired off another barrage of strikes, his explosions lighting up the room in rapid succession, but Yamcha barely even blinked, moving around each attempt as smoothly as a leaf in the wind.
Around them, the other students watched in awe, some trying to hold back laughs as Bakugo's attacks whiffed one after another. Even Puar floated back, covering his mouth with a little paw to hide his grin.
"Man, you're fast," Yamcha said, sidestepping yet another explosion, still keeping his hands in his pockets. "But you've got a long way to go if you're gonna hit someone like me. See, I've been training for a while, and a little firecracker like you's gonna need more than big booms to land a punch."
Bakugo, his face red with anger, clenched his fists, explosions building with intensity. "Stop running, you damn coward! Stand still and fight me!"
Yamcha stopped moving, standing calmly in place as Bakugo took one last, powerful swing. Just before Bakugo's fist could reach him, Yamcha ducked, slipping past the attack with a quick, smooth motion. Before Bakugo knew it, Yamcha had turned, leaving him stumbling forward with nothing but air.
"Nice try!" Yamcha chuckled, taking a few steps back, his casual smile never wavering. "But if you're gonna be a hero, you've gotta work on more than just pure force."
Bakugo huffed, his fists still sparking, but he said nothing, giving Yamcha a final, smoldering glare before stepping back into the crowd.
"Alright, class," Yamcha said, dusting his hands off as he looked around at the wide-eyed students, "who's next?"