Chapter Five
Satoru, now Izuku Gojo, stood at the gates of UA High School, his gaze traveling up the towering walls that seemed to touch the sky. The sheer magnitude of the institution made his heart skip a beat. "It's massive," he whispered to himself, a sense of awe wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
Yet, as he stepped through the gates, a flicker of nostalgia tugged at his heartstrings. "Jujutsu High had its charm, though," he mused, the memories of the ancient corridors and the echo of distant battles lingering in his mind. "I wonder if it still stands, proud and stoic amidst the march of time."
Satoru's mind raced. "This is it," he told himself. "The first step towards becoming a hero. Towards proving myself."
He could feel Midoriya's spirit within him, urging him on, a silent guardian on his shoulder. "Do it for both of us," the voice seemed to say. "For all the dreams we've shared."
Lost in thought, he barely noticed the hustle and bustle of the excited examinees around him—each one a bundle of nerves and dreams, their eyes sparkling with the promise of the future.
Suddenly, a sharp nudge jolted him from his reverie. "Out of the way!" a brash voice barked.
Stumbling to the side, Satoru caught a glimpse of spiky blonde hair and an all-too-familiar scowl. "Bakugou…" he realized, a mix of irritation and fondness washing over him. It was Katsuki Bakugou, his childhood friend turned rival, his presence as explosive as ever.
Satoru straightened up, brushing off his jacket. "Always so subtle, Kacchan," he thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. But there was no time for banter; the entrance exam loomed large, a mountain to be scaled.
In the wake of his collision with Bakugou, Satoru—now donning the alias Izuku Gojo—felt a surge of adrenaline. His heart was a drumbeat echoing through the cacophony of excited chatter and nervous laughter that filled the air around UA High. He took a moment to steady his breath, to center himself amidst the storm of anticipation that threatened to sweep him away.
As he glanced around, taking in the sea of faces, each one a canvas of hopes and fears, his gaze fell upon the grandeur of the school. It loomed before him, a colossus of education and heroism. "Impressive," he mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But the storied halls of Jujutsu High held a charm that this modern marvel can't quite capture."
His thoughts drifted to the venerable institution he once knew, its aged walls steeped in history and mystery. "Does it still stand, I wonder? A bastion of the old ways in this ever-changing world," he pondered, a wistful note threading through his musings.
A sudden commotion pierced the murmur of the crowd. His eyes darted towards the source—a flight of stairs where a girl with a round face teetered precariously, her foot caught in the last moment of a misstep.
Time seemed to slow as she began to topple, a silent gasp escaping her lips. Without a second thought, Satoru sprang into action, his body moving with the grace and urgency of a seasoned hero. He dashed across the space between them, the world blurring into streaks of color and light.
Just as gravity claimed its due, Satoru's arms wrapped around the girl, halting her descent. They stood there for a heartbeat, the girl safe in his embrace, her wide eyes meeting his. A murmur of awe rippled through the onlookers, but for Satoru, there was only the steady beat of his heart and the weight of the life he had just safeguarded.
"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, his voice steady yet laced with concern.
The girl nodded, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "Yes, thank you," she stammered, finding her footing once again.
"I am Izuku," he said.
For a moment, they were suspended in time, her wide, brown eyes locked onto his. "Ochako," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thudding of her heart.
"Easy there, Ochako," Satoru said, his tone gentle as he set her back on solid ground. "You're safe now."
Ochako's cheeks bloomed with a rosy hue, a stark contrast to the pallor that had claimed her just moments before. "Thank you," she breathed out, her gratitude shining in her gaze like stars in the night sky.
With the tension of the fall still lingering in the air, Satoru felt a smile creep onto his face. He looked down at Ochako, who was still clutching her books close to her chest, and decided to break the ice with a touch of humor.
"You know, Ochako," he began, his voice light and teasing, "if you wanted to fly, UA has a course for that. No need to test gravity on your own."
Ochako blinked, then let out a giggle, the sound bubbling up from her like a spring of mirth. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her laughter easing the last of her nerves. "But I think I'll stick to the ground for now. It seems safer, especially with heroes-in-training around to catch me."
Satoru chuckled, the sound mingling with Ochako's laughter. "Well, just to be safe, I'll add 'gravity checker' to my resume. You never know when that might come in handy during the hero course."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, Satoru turned away, his mind already racing ahead to the challenges that awaited him. But as he melded back into the throng of students, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter, brief as it was, had changed something within him.
Satoru took his place among them, his resolve as firm as the ground beneath his feet.
"Izuku Gojo," he announced to himself, his voice a mere whisper but his determination loud and clear. "Let's show them what we're made of."
And with that, Satoru stepped forward into the unknown, ready to carve out his destiny, one trial at a time.
As the time for the written test approached, Satoru, under the guise of Izuku Gojo, felt a familiar flutter of nerves. He took his seat in the examination hall, a sea of desks and anxious examinees stretching out before him. The air was thick with anticipation, the collective breath of potential heroes held in suspense.
The test papers were distributed, and Satoru flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the questions. They ranged from theoretical hero scenarios to complex problem-solving exercises, each one designed to challenge the mind of a future hero.
With a deep breath, he picked up his pencil and began. The questions seemed to dance before his eyes, but his mind was sharp, honed by years of study and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He worked through the test with a focus that was almost palpable, his pencil moving with confidence and precision.
As the minutes ticked by, Satoru found himself lost in the world of questions and answers, a world where his alias, Izuku Gojo, could shine. He tackled each question with a blend of intuition and logic, his answers a testament to his dedication and his desire to succeed.
Finally, as the last seconds of the exam slipped away, Satoru set down his pencil. He leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The test had been a gauntlet, but he had run it with the grace of a seasoned pro.
The UA High auditorium thrummed with an electric tension. A cacophony of nervous chatter and excited shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional squeak of a jittery shoe on polished floors. Aspiring heroes, the next generation of legends, were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, their energy a tangible force. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting the room in a hopeful glow that couldn't quite dispel the underlying anxiety.
In the very center of this whirlwind stood Present Mic, a human megaphone booming with infectious enthusiasm. His signature yellow costume, complete with a shock of spiky blond hair, commanded attention. Every exuberant wave of his hand sent ripples of movement through the crowd. His booming voice, amplified by the speakers, sliced through the excited din. "Buckle up, future heroes!" he roared, his voice tinged with the electricity of a hero about to leap into action. While the rest of the hopefuls were caught up in a frenzy of adoration for the charismatic hero, Izuku Gojo stood apart, an island of calm in a sea of fangirling. His eyes were not on Present Mic but on the stage where the real challenge awaited—the mock city that would serve as the battleground for their practical exam.
"Today, you'll be facing off against villainous robots in a simulated urban environment!" Each point he made was punctuated by a surge of cheers from the crowd, their adulation echoing through the vast hall. "There are One Pointers and Two Pointers, which you'll need to take down to score points."
The crowd murmured, notes of strategy and speculation weaving through the conversations. But it was the mention of the Zero Pointer that sent a ripple of unease through the room.
Present Mic's voice dropped a notch, the playful lilt replaced with a hint of seriousness. "Now, the Zero Pointer," he continued, "isn't your average training bot. It's not meant to be defeated, you defeat it, you get no score. It's a test – a harsh crucible that will forge true heroes from aspiring ones. It will assess your judgment, your ability to stay focused on the true objective amidst the chaos."
Izuku Gojo, however, remained an island of calm amidst the frenzy. The mention of the Zero Pointer didn't faze him; it was merely another variable in the equation he was determined to solve. Unlike his anxious peers, he didn't see an insurmountable obstacle, but a challenge to be conquered. A chance to prove his mettle.
As the briefing concluded and the mass of bodies surged towards the exit, Izuku moved with a quiet determination, his path unwavering. He wasn't interested in joining the throng of hero-worshiping fans. He was here for a purpose – to prove himself worthy, to claim his rightful place among the ranks of legends. And of course, to save his mother.
"All right," Present Mic said. "One…go!... What? There's no countdown in real life!"
Everyone rushed inside.
As Izuku stepped into the mock city, a wave of movement surged past him. Hopeful heroes, a kaleidoscope of quirks on display, scattered in all directions. Some, fueled by pure aggression, lunged straight for the towering Two Pointers – metallic monstrosities that promised a hefty point reward for their takedown. Others, perhaps more cautious, opted for the less-challenging One Pointers, methodical point accumulation strategy.
A flash of pink caught Izuku's eye. It was a girl with the acid quirk. Her entire body, a vibrant shade of pink, pulsed with acidic energy. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a corrosive stream, effortlessly melting the metal casing of a nearby robot. Its metallic innards spilled out in a shower of sparks.
Not far from her, a peculiar sight unfolded. A small, purple-haired boy launched a barrage of sticky purple spheres from his head. These spheres connected with the robots, adhering them together in a grotesque, immobilized mess. The sight elicited chuckles from some onlookers, but the effectiveness of the strategy was undeniable.
Further down the street, a girl with zero gravity, Ochako, quirk wobbled precariously as she unleashed her power. Robots, lifted a few meters into the air, began to topple over, their metallic bodies crashing to the ground with resounding thuds. Unfortunately, the exertion seemed to have taken its toll on her, judging by the grimace on her face and the rising bile in her throat.
A cackle of electric energy announced the arrival of a blonde boy, his hair crackling with electricity as he zapped his way through a group of robots. Meanwhile, a girl with large, earlobe-shaped jacks extending from her head launched a sonic attack that sent vibrations through the metal bodies of nearby robots, effectively disabling them.
And then there was the frog-like girl from the street that day. Her long, prehensile tongue whipped through the air, wrapping around a robot and constricting it with surprising strength. The robot sputtered and writhed before going completely still.
Izuku, perched atop a building overlooking the chaos, observed it all with a keen, analytical eye. A smirk tugged at his lips. This was a display of raw power, of unconventional tactics, a testament to the diversity of quirks. It was exhilarating. But within him, a quiet determination burned. He wouldn't just be a participant in this grand spectacle. He'd surpass them all. He'd break All Might's record, etching his name in UA's history. The mock city was his playground, and he was ready to show everyone what a true hero-in-the-making looked like.
The mock city sprawled before Izuku Gojo like a concrete jungle, its silence punctuated by the mechanical whirring of robots. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the urban labyrinth for his next target. There, a Two Pointer, its metal frame glinting in the artificial light, unaware of the predator in its midst.
With a whisper as soft as a shadow, Izuku in the blink of an eye, he was behind the robot. His fist, glowing with an ominous purple hue of cursed energy, shot forward. "Divergent Fist!" he breathed out, and the Two Pointer crumbled like paper mâché under his strike, its components scattering across the ground.
He didn't pause to admire his handiwork; there was no time for that. Another One Pointer lumbered into view, its sensors locking onto him. Izuku's lips curved into a half-smile. "Red," he whispered, and a surge of power coursed through his arm, a crimson wave of destruction that left nothing but scrap metal in its wake.
The robots kept coming, each one a new challenge, a new opportunity to demonstrate his prowess. "Blue," he intoned for a lesser foe, the energy released just enough to disable without overkill, a minimum output for a maximum effect.
One after another, they fell before him, each defeat marked by a quiet count. "Thirty-four," Izuku noted, his voice a murmur of satisfaction mixed with hunger for more. "Not bad. But far from enough!"
His gaze then caught a cluster of robots, a perfect opportunity to showcase the breadth of his power. With a deep inhale, he centered himself, his energy pooling and swirling within. "Red," he declared, louder now, his voice resonating with the force of his attack.
The air itself seemed to tear, a red maelstrom erupting from his fist, tearing through the group of robots like a scythe through wheat. Metal shrieked and sparks flew as Izuku Gojo, the embodiment of confidence and power, stood amidst the wreckage of his foes.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto a Two Pointer robot. In a fluid motion, he sidestepped its lumbering charge, his body low and coiled like a spring.
With precision, he struck at the robot's joint, a critical point, with a concentrated burst of cursed energy. The impact resonated through the metal, vibrations traveling up its frame, causing circuits to fry and gears to jam. The Two Pointer stumbled, its systems failing, and collapsed into a heap of useless scrap.
He didn't pause to watch it fall; his attention was already on the next target. A One Pointer approached, its single eye glowing ominously. Izuku pivoted on his heel, closing the distance in a heartbeat. He delivered a swift uppercut to its underbelly, where the armor was weakest. The force of the blow propelled the robot upwards before it crashed back down, its internal mechanisms shattered beyond repair.
The battlefield was alive with the sound of whirring motors and clashing metal, but Izuku moved through it all with a dancer's grace. He ducked under a swipe from another One Pointer, planting his palm against its torso. A pulse of cursed energy flowed from his hand, and the robot's casing buckled inward, a dent marking the spot where its core systems were disrupted.
"Fifty-four," he counted under his breath, a tally of his conquests.
But there was no time for complacency. A group of robots, a mix of One and Two Pointers, converged on him. Izuku's stance widened, his energy surging. He launched forward, a streak of determination. His fists moved in a blur, striking with surgical precision at the weaknesses he had so keenly observed. Each hit was a calculated release of energy, just enough to disable but not destroy.
Tenya Iida stood rigidly among the throng of UA High hopefuls, his glasses reflecting the bright lights of the auditorium. The air was charged with a palpable energy, a mix of determination and ambition as each student prepared for the practical exam that lay ahead. Iida, ever the embodiment of discipline, ran through mental checklists, his internal engine revving in anticipation.
As Present Mic's voice boomed over the speakers, detailing the formidable challenge of the mock city and its robotic inhabitants, Iida couldn't help but feel his pulse quicken. This was it, the moment where preparation met opportunity, where future heroes were forged.
But amidst the sea of eager faces, one stood out—a white-haired enigma, his presence almost ghostlike. He was an unknown variable, a silent storm that none had predicted. As the test commenced, this mysterious figure moved with a grace that belied his power, his every action a devastating blow to the mechanical foes that dared challenge him.
The students watched, awe-struck, as robot after robot fell before him, their metal carcasses a testament to his strength. Whispers rippled through the crowd, a growing chorus of speculation and wonder. Who was this prodigy who dismantled the opposition with such ease?
Iida, too, found himself caught in the wake of the white-haired enigma's prowess. His own resolve hardened; here was a benchmark, a standard to strive towards. The sight of the enigma tearing through the robots like they were made of paper lit a fire within him, a burning desire to not just pass the test, but to excel.
And as the exam drew to a close, the name of the white-haired enigma remained a mystery, but his impact was indelible. He had left an impression that would not soon be forgotten, a performance that would become the stuff of legend in the halls of UA High. For Iida and the rest, it was a clear message—the path to heroism was not just about strength, but about the will to push beyond limits, to redefine what was possible.
The white-haired enigma had set the bar, and now it was up to them to rise to the challenge.
Ochako Uraraka's heart was still fluttering from her earlier encounter with the mysterious white-haired boy who had saved her from a certain fall. She remembered his gentle yet firm grip, the way he had steadied her with ease. All she knew of him was his name, Izuku Gojo, a name that now echoed in her mind as she watched him move through the practical exam with a prowess that left her and the others in awe.
She stood among her peers, her round eyes wide with amazement as the white-haired enigma dispatched robot after robot, his movements a blend of elegance and raw power. It was as if he danced between them, a waltz of destruction that was both beautiful and terrifying to behold.
The surprise on her face was mirrored by those around her, each student whispering and pointing as Izuku Gojo made the impossible seem effortless. Ochako felt a mix of admiration and curiosity bubble within her. Who was this boy who wielded such strength with a calm that belied the chaos around him?
As the test came to an end, and the dust settled on the mock city, Ochako found herself searching the crowd for that distinctive head of white hair. She wanted to know more about him, about the boy who had not only saved her but had also inspired her with his undeniable skill.
Mineta Minoru, with his distinct purple balls of hair and a somewhat questionable motivation for heroism, was among the crowd of UA High hopefuls. His goal was simple, yet unabashedly honest: he wanted to become a hero to impress girls. The practical exam was his stage, a chance to prove his worth and, hopefully, catch the eye of a few admirers along the way.
As the test began, Mineta's eyes were not on the robots but on the potential audience of his heroic feats. He bounced from one foot to the other, his quirk at the ready, determined to show off his unique abilities.
But then, the white-haired enigma burst into action. Mineta watched, his mouth agape, as Izuku tore through the robots with a finesse that Mineta could only dream of. It was a display of raw power and skill that captivated everyone's attention, overshadowing Mineta's own attempts at heroism.
The realization hit Mineta like a ton of bricks. To truly impress, to truly stand out, it wasn't enough to just want to be a hero for the sake of admiration. What the boy showed was a dedication to the hero's path that went beyond superficial desires.
Tsuyu Asui, known for her calm and straightforward demeanor, stood among the other UA High examinees with her characteristic unflappable presence. She remembered the white-haired boy she had encountered in front of the barber shop, the one with the air of self-assuredness that bordered on narcissism. He had seemed more interested in his reflection than anything else at the time.
As the practical exam unfolded before her, Tsuyu watched with her wide, observant eyes as the same boy, Izuku Gojo, moved through the mock city. His strength was undeniable, his technique flawless. Each robot that came before him was dispatched with a precision that spoke of a deep understanding of combat.
Tsuyu couldn't help but be surprised. The boy she had pegged as a narcissist was revealing himself to be a powerhouse of potential. His actions on the field were a stark contrast to the image he had presented outside the barber shop, and Tsuyu found herself reassessing her initial judgment.
The way Izuku dismantled the robots, it was clear he wasn't just strong—he was exceptional. And as the test came to an end, Tsuyu knew that Izuku Gojo was a name she would need to remember. He was not just a narcissist with a pretty face; he was a competitor, and perhaps, a future hero worth watching.
Denki Kaminari, with his easygoing smile and a somewhat scatterbrained reputation, mingled among the other UA High hopefuls. His laid-back demeanor often led others to underestimate him, but beneath the surface, there was a spark of potential waiting to ignite.
As the practical exam commenced, Denki's usual nonchalance gave way to a focused intensity. He was here to prove himself, to show that he was more than just comic relief. His quirk crackled to life, electricity dancing at his fingertips, ready to be unleashed.
But then, his attention was drawn to the white-haired enigma, Izuku Gojo, who moved through the mock city like a force of nature. Denki watched, his mouth agape, as the boy dismantled robot after robot with a power that was raw and undeniable.
Even Denki, who often missed the finer points of hero work, could recognize the sheer magnitude of the boy's strength. It was a display of what true power looked like, a lesson in heroism that didn't need words. Izuku's actions spoke volumes, each move, each decision, resonating with a clarity that even Denki could understand.
As the exam drew to a close, Denki found himself inspired by the white-haired enigma. He realized that true power wasn't just about flashy moves or loud declarations; it was about the impact one could make, the difference one could create.
The boy had shown him that, and as Denki left the mock city, his mind buzzed not with electricity, but with thoughts of the hero he wanted to become—a hero defined by actions, not just words.
The ground trembled as the Zero Pointer made its colossal entrance, its towering form casting a long shadow over the mock city. The air was filled with the sound of its mechanical joints moving in heavy, deliberate steps, each one a thunderous declaration of its presence.
Panic rippled through the crowd of examinees as they took in the sheer size of the behemoth. It was a leviathan of steel, a giant among the robots they had been facing. The realization hit them all at once—there was no point in engaging this monstrosity. The rules were clear: no points would be awarded for taking it down, and the very idea of defeating it seemed beyond the realm of possibility.
As if on cue, the students turned and ran, their earlier bravado dissolving into a primal instinct for self-preservation. The mock city became a maze of fleeing figures, each one desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the Zero Pointer as possible.
But amidst the chaos, one figure stood still. Izuku Gojo, the white-haired enigma who had dominated the practical exam thus far, watched the Zero Pointer with an analytical gaze. Where others saw an insurmountable obstacle, he saw a challenge, a test not just of strength, but of courage and resolve.
"H-help…"
There was a girl stuck under a broken wall. Ochako.
The robot would crush her any moment.
The Zero Pointer was a trial, a mountain to be scaled not for points, but for the sake of the climb itself. And as Izuku weighed his options, the eyes of his peers upon him, he knew that this was a defining moment. To run would be easy, but to stand and face the impossible—that was the mark of a true hero.
The decision was made in an instant, and Izuku Gojo floated forward, not away from the Zero Pointer, but towards it. His movements were calm, purposeful, as he prepared to do what no one else dared—to face the giant head-on, and in doing so, to set himself apart from the rest.
The Zero Pointer loomed large, but so too did the legend of Izuku Gojo, the boy who would be the hero.
Izuku Gojo's stance was unwavering as he faced the mechanical colossus that loomed before him. The Zero Pointer, a behemoth of technology and raw power, stood as the ultimate test of his abilities. Around him, the air was thick with fear and awe, but Izuku's focus was unbreakable.
His hands began to move, not with haste, but with the deliberate grace of a seasoned artist. His fingers traced the air, each motion deliberate, as if he were pulling invisible strings tied to the fabric of reality. They curled into intricate forms, weaving patterns that hummed with the energy of Reversal Red and Amplify Blue.
The dance of his hands was hypnotic, fingers intertwining, then parting, palms rotating inwards and then outwards, as if he were molding the very essence of his power. His right hand spiraled upward, drawing the force of destruction into its path, while his left hand swept downward, gathering the energy of creation.
With a sudden clasp, his hands came together, palms meeting in a silent clap that seemed to resonate with the heartbeat of the universe. He pulled them apart, and between them, a sphere of pulsating energy grew, its core a swirling maelstrom of indigo light.
"Hollow Purple," Izuku intoned, his voice steady, his eyes alight with the fire of his will. He thrust his hands forward, palms outward, fingers splayed wide. The sphere of energy surged forth, expanding into a beam of pure, annihilating force.
The Zero Pointer, for all its might, could not withstand the fury of Izuku's attack. The beam struck true, and the robot was consumed by the Hollow Purple, its form disintegrating, erased from existence as if it had never been.
The onlookers, who had moments ago been scrambling for safety, now stood rooted to the spot, their eyes wide, their minds struggling to grasp the spectacle they had just witnessed. Izuku Gojo, the enigmatic prodigy, had achieved the unthinkable. He had faced down the embodiment of impossibility and emerged victorious.
In the silence that followed, there was a sense of something shifting, a new legend taking root in the hearts and minds of all who had seen. Izuku Gojo was no longer just another hopeful; he was the hero who had conquered the unconquerable, a beacon of what it meant to be truly powerful.
In the observation room, high above the mock city where the practical exam had unfolded, the teachers of UA High School stood in stunned silence. The spectacle of Izuku Gojo's power had left them awestruck, each one grappling with the implications of what they had just witnessed.
The room, usually abuzz with commentary and critique, was quiet, the air heavy with a sense of wonder. The teachers, seasoned heroes in their own right, were no strangers to displays of power, but this was something else, something beyond their expectations.
It was Nemuri Kayama, known as Midnight, who finally broke the silence. Her voice, usually sultry and composed, carried a note of disbelief. "Did you all see that?" she asked, her eyes wide behind her mask. "That power… it's unlike anything I've seen from a student before."
Her colleagues nodded, murmurs of agreement passing between them. Shota Aizawa, known as Eraser Head, adjusted his goggles, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty field where the Zero Pointer had stood moments before. "He's not just strong," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. "He's on a completely different level."
Toshinori Yagi, the former All Might, stood with his arms crossed, a rare look of astonishment etched across his features. "Young Gojo," he mused, "has just redefined what it means to be a hero-in-training. That technique… Hollow Purple… it's as if he's tapped into something fundamental, something primal."
The room buzzed with a new energy as the teachers began to discuss amongst themselves, their professional curiosity piqued. They speculated on Izuku's potential, on how he could be guided and taught, on the hero he might one day become.
And as they watched the replay of Izuku's final, defining moment, they knew that UA High had just gained a student who would not only challenge the limits of their teaching but who would also inspire them to reach new heights in their own heroism.
Izuku Gojo, the white-haired enigma, had not only passed the practical exam; he had left an indelible mark on the very soul of UA High. And for the teachers observing from above, it was clear that this was the beginning of a new chapter, both for Izuku and for the school itself.
A/N: Izuku= GOJO+Midoriya's fusion.
TBC