Chapter 78: The Weight of a Plastic Card and the Bitter Coffee
[National Dagoba Arena - Sector 3 - The Aftermath]
The battlefield was a graveyard of clashing temperatures.
Puddles of melted ice reflected the emergency lights, hissing softly as they touched the scorched, blackened asphalt left behind by Todoroki's flames. The fierce vortex of wind had died down, leaving an eerie, ringing silence in its wake.
Gang Orca stood in the center of the melting crater, his pristine white suit soaked and plastered with frost. He rolled his massive shoulders, the thick muscles of his neck cracking loudly as he shook off the residual numbness of the absolute zero.
He looked down at the three students.
Shoto Todoroki was panting heavily, his left arm still radiating waves of heat. Inasa Yoarashi stood tall, though his legs trembled slightly from sheer exhaustion. And sitting on a slab of broken concrete, Aokiji Kuzan was attempting to massage the throbbing ache out of his left arm, his breath pluming in the crisp air.
Gang Orca stepped forward. His heavy boots splashed in the puddles.
"The final combination was magnificent," the Pro Hero rumbled, his deep voice carrying a strange mix of praise and profound disappointment. He fixed his unblinking, predatory gaze on Todoroki and Inasa. "You synchronized your elements perfectly to exploit my biological weakness, and you allowed your vanguard to deliver the finishing blow. It was the textbook definition of a high-tier tactical strike."
Todoroki and Inasa straightened up slightly, a flicker of hope in their exhausted eyes.
"However," Gang Orca's voice dropped an octave, hitting them like a physical weight. "A single minute of tactical brilliance does not forgive five minutes of catastrophic stupidity."
He pointed a massive, white-gloved finger at the ruined street behind them.
"Your initial lack of coordination was a disaster. You allowed personal grievances to blind you to your surroundings. Your wind scattered his fire, creating a backdraft that would have severely burned the very civilians you were tasked to protect. If this had been a real villain attack, innocent people would have perished because you two couldn't stop looking at each other's shadows."
Inasa flinched, biting his lip so hard it bled anew. Todoroki looked down at his boots, the painful truth of the hero's words extinguishing any pride he felt for the final attack.
Gang Orca then shifted his gaze to Aokiji. The imposing Pro Hero studied the slouching, steam-venting boy for a long moment.
"And you," Gang Orca said. "Your physical output is severely compromised. I felt the hesitation in your defense. Yet, you deliberately positioned yourself as a sacrificial shield. You read the battlefield, calculated the exact time your allies needed to recover, and executed a flawless, surgical strike when the opening presented itself."
Gang Orca crossed his massive arms. "You fought with the mind of a veteran. But do not think your self-destructive tendencies went unnoticed. A dead shield cannot protect anyone tomorrow."
The Pro Hero turned his back, his white cape billowing as the medical teams finally rushed onto the field.
"The results will be posted in the main hall," Gang Orca called over his shoulder. "Reflect on what you did here today."
Aokiji let out a long, tired exhale, tipping his head back to look at the artificial sky. He didn't care about the praise. He just wanted a nap.
[The Main Hall - The Wall of Truth]
The massive orientation hall was packed with the surviving examinees. The atmosphere was a suffocating blend of adrenaline, anxiety, and the sharp smell of sweat.
Yokumiru Mera stood at the podium, looking even closer to a complete physical collapse than he had hours ago. He leaned heavily against the microphone stand, his eyes fighting to stay open.
"Right... the exams are entirely over," Mera mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Thank you for your hard work. Before I project the results, I want to explain the grading system. H.U.C. and the Pro Heroes observed your every move. You started with a perfect score. Points were deducted for every mistake, every delay, and every action unbefitting a hero."
Mera pressed a button on his remote.
"If your score remained above the passing threshold of fifty points... you pass. Look at the screens. The names are in alphabetical order."
BZZZZT.
The massive jumbotron above the stage illuminated. Hundreds of names appeared in glowing white text against a black background.
The hall erupted. Screams of absolute joy clashed violently with sobs of crushing defeat.
Midoriya pumped his fist into the air, tears streaming down his face. "I passed! I actually passed!"
Uraraka floated a few inches off the ground in pure relief. Iida chopped the air, his face glowing with pride.
Aokiji stood near the back, his hands in his pockets. He scanned the board lazily.
Alphabetical... K... Ku... Kuzan, Aokiji.
He found it. He was comfortably above the threshold. The perfect rescue of the old man and his tactical suppression of Gang Orca had secured his spot. He let out a small puff of frosty breath, a subtle smirk touching his lips.
He turned his head to look for the others.
He found Todoroki standing completely still in the middle of the crowd. He wasn't cheering. He was staring at the 'T' section of the board.
Aokiji followed his gaze.
Tokoyami, Fumikage.
Tsunotori, Pony.
The name Todoroki, Shoto was not there.
A few meters away, Inasa Yoarashi stood frozen like a statue. He was staring at the 'Y' section. His name was missing as well.
"I... I failed."
The harsh, raspy voice came from Aokiji's left. Katsuki Bakugo was vibrating with pure, unadulterated shock. His crimson eyes were wide, staring at the blank space where his name should have been.
"Bakugo didn't make it?!" Kirishima gasped, looking horrified. "But he's so strong!"
"Strength wasn't the only metric," Aokiji murmured, walking slowly past them. "The rescue phase was about making people feel safe. Screaming at victims to get out of your way probably drained his points to zero in the first five minutes."
Bakugo gritted his teeth, his hands sparking, but he didn't scream. The reality of the failure was too heavy, crushing the air out of his lungs. He just lowered his head, the shadows hiding his eyes.
Aokiji walked over to where Todoroki and Inasa were standing in absolute silence. The gap between the two powerhouses felt different now. It wasn't filled with hostility; it was filled with mutual regret.
Suddenly, Inasa spun around. He marched directly up to Todoroki and, with terrifying force, slammed his head toward the floor in a perfect, ninety-degree bow.
"I AM SORRY!" Inasa roared, his voice echoing over the chatter of the hall. "Because of my narrow-mindedness and my childish grudge, I dragged you down with me! I am entirely to blame for this failure!"
Todoroki looked at the bowing giant. He slowly clenched his right fist, feeling the phantom warmth of his fire.
"No," Todoroki said quietly, his voice perfectly even. "I let your words get to me. I lost my temper and forgot the civilians. It was my own immaturity. I failed because of me."
Aokiji watched them. Before making his way into the crowded hall, he had taken a brief detour to a battered, neon-lit vending machine in the corridor. He had slotted in his loose change for three cans of cheap black coffee, stuffing them deep into his coat pockets. Now, drawing them out, the aluminum was already painfully cold to the touch, rapidly chilled by the passive, freezing aura of his own body temperature.
He tossed one to Todoroki. The dual-haired boy caught it reflexively.
He tossed the other to the bowing Inasa, hitting him squarely on the back of his shaved head.
"Ow!" Inasa stood up, rubbing his head and catching the can as it fell.
"Drink up," Aokiji said lazily, popping the tab on his own can with a sharp hiss. "It's bitter and it's freezing. Exactly what you two deserve."
Todoroki looked at the frost-covered can in his hand. He looked at Aokiji, who had his Provisional License secured, yet chose to stand here with the failures.
"We messed up," Todoroki admitted softly.
"Yeah, you did," Aokiji agreed bluntly, taking a sip. "You guys were a disaster. But you fixed it at the end. That's the important part."
Mera's voice echoed over the PA system again, cutting through the noise.
"For those who did not pass... do not despair just yet."
The room quieted down. Bakugo raised his head slightly. Todoroki and Inasa turned toward the stage.
"You failed because you lacked a certain fundamental quality needed for hero work," Mera explained, shuffling his papers. "However, we saw enough raw potential in you to offer a second chance. If you attend a special, three-month remedial course and pass the final evaluation... we will issue you your licenses."
A spark of fierce, burning determination ignited in Todoroki's eyes.
Inasa gripped the freezing coffee can, his massive face breaking into a determined, intense smile. "A remedial course! I will put my entire soul into it!"
Aokiji chuckled, finishing his coffee. "Looks like you two get to spend a lot more time together. Try not to blow up the classroom."
"And as for you," Todoroki said, looking at Aokiji. "You passed. Congratulations, Kuzan."
"Thanks," Aokiji said, stretching his arms over his head. "But remember the deal."
Inasa blinked, confused. "What deal?"
Aokiji smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Next time we meet, you two are buying the coffee. And I expect it to be piping hot."
[The Anteroom - The Printout]
The line moved quickly.
Aokiji stood before a small, automated printing station. The machine whirred, clicked, and then spat out a small, rectangular piece of plastic.
He picked it up.
It felt heavy, despite weighing almost nothing. The surface was glossy. In the top corner was a small ID photo he had taken earlier that morning. In the picture, his hair was messy, and his eyes were half-closed, looking distinctly like he wanted to be anywhere else.
But below the photo, printed in crisp, bold black letters, was the undeniable truth.
PROVISIONAL HERO LICENSE
Name: Aokiji Kuzan
Hero Name: Frost
He ran his thumb over the embossed letters.
He thought about his father, weeping by his hospital bed. He thought about his grandfather bowing to him. He thought about Sayuri's silent tears.
He hadn't chosen this path for glory. He hadn't chosen it to be the Symbol of Peace. He had chosen it to build a wall of ice between the monsters of the world and the people he cared about.
And now, society had officially given him the authority to build that wall.
"Hey, Kuzan!"
Midoriya jogged over, holding his own license with both hands as if it were made of fragile glass. His eyes were shining. "Can you believe it? We're officially recognized! We can use our quirks in public emergencies now!"
Aokiji looked at the green-haired boy, seeing the boundless, exhausting optimism radiating from him. Aokiji slipped the plastic card into his inner breast pocket, right next to his heart.
He let out a slow, frosty breath, a genuine, quiet smile finally breaking through his lazy facade.
"Yeah, Midoriya," Aokiji said softly. "We're official. Let's just hope we don't have to use them too soon."
.
.