Chapter 3: Beyond the Gates
The ten months of relentless preparation had dissolved into a singular, defining morning.
Sakazuki stood before the small mirror in his bedroom, his expression entirely neutral as he fastened the zipper of his dark, heavy-duty athletic jacket. His physical frame had matured significantly over the grueling training period. The childish softness that clung to most fourteen-year-olds had been completely burned away, replaced by dense, corded muscle and a broad, imposing structure. The old burn scars that wrapped around his forearms and shoulders had deepened in color, blending into his physique not as deformities, but as natural, hardened armor.
He picked up a large, dark duffel bag from the floor. It clinked heavily, the sound muffled by the thick fabric. Inside were six two-liter bottles of purified water, chilled to near freezing. His ammunition. His coolant.
Stepping out into the narrow hallway, a rich, savory aroma immediately caught his attention. He walked toward the small kitchen and stopped in the doorway.
His mother was standing by the stove, carefully flipping a thick slice of salted salmon in a frying pan. A steaming pot of rice sat on the counter alongside a bowl of freshly prepared miso soup. She wore her favorite yellow apron, her hair tied back neatly. While the dark circles under her eyes had not completely vanished, the ten months of enforced rest and the strict medicine regimen Sakazuki had maintained had brought a noticeable, healthy flush back to her cheeks.
"I told you to remain in bed," Sakazuki said, his deep voice breaking the quiet hum of the exhaust fan. "Your shift at the bakery does not start until noon. You require your rest."
She turned around, offering him a warm, unbothered smile. "And let my son leave for the most important exam of his life with only a cold protein bar in his stomach? Absolutely not." She plated the fish and gestured toward the small dining table. "Sit down, Sakazuki. The food is ready."
He did not argue further. He set his heavy bag by the door and took his seat, breaking apart his wooden chopsticks with a crisp snap. They ate in a comfortable, familiar silence. The food was excellent, rich in the protein and carbohydrates his internal furnace would demand in the coming hours. He ate methodically, ensuring not a single grain of rice was wasted.
As he finished his tea, his mother sat across from him, resting her chin on her folded hands. Her eyes traced the sharp, serious lines of his face.
"Whatever happens today," she said softly, her voice carrying a gentle but firm weight, "I want you to know that I am incredibly proud of the man you are becoming."
Sakazuki set his ceramic teacup down on the table. He looked directly into her eyes, his posture straightening. There was no arrogance in his gaze, only a cold, absolute certainty.
"I will return with an acceptance," Sakazuki stated smoothly. "There is no other option."
Thirty minutes later, the crisp morning air bit at his face as he walked through the sprawling, meticulously paved courtyard of U.A. High School. The sheer scale of the main building was staggering, a massive fortress of steel and reflective glass that towered into the sky. All around him, hundreds of teenagers from across the country were making their way toward the entrance. The air buzzed with a chaotic mixture of nervous laughter, boastful chatter, and the occasional, accidental manifestation of a quirk due to anxiety.
Sakazuki walked through the crowd like a heavy stone rolling through a shallow stream. His dark eyes scanned his surroundings with a cold, analytical detachment. He mentally filtered through the noise, observing the postures and gaits of his competitors. He noted a boy muttering frantically to himself, clearly paralyzed by nerves. He noted a girl taking excessive deep breaths, trying to calm a shaking hand. He dismissed them instantly from his calculations.
The first phase was the written examination.
Sakazuki sat in a massive lecture hall, a heavy, graphite pencil resting between his fingers. The scent of fresh paper and nervous sweat hung thickly in the room. When the signal to begin was given, the room erupted into the frantic scratching of hundreds of pencils.
Sakazuki opened the booklet. He did not rush. He read each question with measured focus. The exam was brutally difficult, designed to weed out those who relied solely on physical power. There were complex algebraic equations regarding structural load limits for collapsing buildings. There were detailed case studies on the legal boundaries of quirk usage in densely populated civilian sectors. There were questions on the physics of momentum and kinetic transfer during combat.
He moved through the pages with ruthless efficiency. His mind, conditioned to view combat as a tactical puzzle, easily dissected the scenarios. He calculated the exact blast radius of a ruptured gas line and noted the precise penal code violations for engaging a villain without a provisional license. Strength without intellect was merely a blunt instrument, and Sakazuki was determined to be a scalpel. He finished the exam with twenty minutes to spare, setting his pencil down quietly and staring straight ahead, waiting for the time to expire.
The transition to the orientation hall was a jarring shift in atmosphere. The room was cavernous, bathed in dim lighting until a spotlight snapped onto the central stage. The Voice Hero, Present Mic, launched into a deafening, theatrical explanation of the practical exam's rules.
Sakazuki sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression entirely unchanged despite the overwhelming volume. He ignored the hero's loud, stylized English phrases and focused entirely on the massive screen projecting the rules. Three types of robotic targets. One point, two points, three points. An urban combat zone. A ten-minute time limit.
Then, the projection shifted, displaying a massive, heavily armored machine taking up half the screen. The Zero Pointer.
Present Mic described it as an obstacle, something to be avoided, a rampage machine that would grant no points.
Sakazuki raised a large, calloused hand, gently resting his thumb and index finger against his chin. His dark eyebrows drew together in a slight, calculating frown. What is the tactical purpose of placing a massive, resource-heavy obstacle in a testing zone if it holds absolutely no point value? He ran the variables through his mind. A prestigious institution like U.A. would not waste millions of yen on a colossal robot just to annoy the examinees. It had to serve a specific function. Was it to test spatial awareness? Was it a hazard designed to force candidates into bottlenecks to increase competition for the smaller targets? Or was it something deeper? A psychological stressor?
He could not definitively solve the riddle with the limited data provided, so he systematically filed the thought away. He would simply adapt to its presence on the battlefield. If it stayed out of his way, he would ignore it. If it obstructed his path to victory, he would melt it into slag.
Eventually, the orientation concluded, and the candidates were herded onto buses and transported to their respective testing centers.
Sakazuki found himself standing before the colossal, towering metal gates of Battle Center B. The mock city behind the wall was a terrifyingly accurate replica of a dense urban district. Surrounding him, dozens of other applicants were stretching, jumping in place, or whispering last-minute encouragements to themselves. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and suffocating.
He ignored them all. Reaching into his duffel bag, Sakazuki pulled out one of the massive, two-liter bottles of chilled water. He unscrewed the plastic cap and brought the wide rim to his lips. He did not sip. He tilted his head back and drank continuously, the rapid, heavy swallowing sounds drawing a few curious glances. He drained the entire bottle in a matter of seconds, the freezing liquid hitting his stomach like a block of ice.
He crushed the empty plastic bottle in his grip, tossing it into a nearby recycling bin. The internal cooling system was primed. His core temperature was drastically lowered, providing him with the necessary thermal runway to unleash his quirk without immediately risking heat exhaustion.
He stepped up to the front of the crowd, his boots planting firmly against the asphalt. He stared at the seam of the massive steel doors.
High up in the observation tower, Present Mic's voice suddenly boomed through the loudspeakers. "Right, let's start! Get moving!"
The heavy gears of the gate groaned, the massive metal doors beginning to slowly slide apart. Before the hero could even finish his follow-up sentence about there being no countdowns in real battles, Sakazuki's muscles coiled like industrial springs.
He exploded forward.
His heavy boots cracked against the pavement, launching his large frame through the widening gap in the doors before they were even halfway open. He moved with a sudden, violent velocity that defied his sheer bulk.
But he was not the only one to realize the truth of the prompt.
From his peripheral vision, another figure surged forward at the exact same moment. It was another examinee, a boy with an incredibly dense, heavily built physique, thick brown hair, and slightly elongated canines. He possessed the raw, imposing build of a heavy-weight fighter, and he had reacted to the opening gates with the same predatory instinct as Sakazuki.
The gap in the doors was still narrow. Their trajectories intersected violently.
They collided shoulder-to-shoulder with the sickening, heavy thud of two colliding boulders. The sheer kinetic force of the impact would have sent a normal teenager sprawling across the concrete.
But Sakazuki did not yield a single millimeter.
His core tightened, his posture remaining rigidly flawless. He absorbed the shock, dropping his center of gravity slightly, and pushed back with overwhelming, grounded momentum.
Move. The singular, commanding thought flashed through Sakazuki's mind.
The beast-like boy's eyes widened slightly in a flash of genuine surprise. He had clearly expected his own massive physical strength to easily push past whoever was beside him. Instead, it felt as though he had slammed into a solid wall of iron. The momentum shifted instantly. Sakazuki overpowered the physical contest, brushing past the boy's shoulder and surging ahead into the mock city, taking the absolute lead.
The heavily built teen recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing in fierce, competitive determination as he sprinted right behind Sakazuki, but the distance between them was already growing.
Sakazuki sprinted down the center of the main avenue, his eyes darting across the artificial skyline, scanning the alleyways and intersections. The heavy, metallic clanking of heavy machinery echoed from the street ahead.
Rounding the corner, he found his first target. It was a Two-Pointer, a mechanical monstrosity rolling forward on thick treads, its mechanical red eyes locking onto him as its twin weapon mounts swiveled into firing position.
Sakazuki did not slow his sprint. He ran directly toward the machine.
His breathing deepened into a rhythmic, measured draw. The ambient temperature around him spiked violently, distorting the air into a shimmering mirage. The freezing water in his stomach began to boil away as his internal furnace roared to life.
Slowly, the flesh of his right arm began to darken, cracking open like a fissure in the earth. Thick, viscous, blindingly bright magma bubbled to the surface, consuming his forearm in a terrifying display of raw, unrestrained heat. The smell of sulfur and burning asphalt filled the mock city street.