Chapter 20: Shattered Pride
The dirt field was massive, stretching out under the clear morning sky.
Class 1-A stood together in their blue and white U.A. gym uniforms. Most of them were nervous. Izuku Midoriya was visibly shaking. Katsuki Bakugo was still glaring daggers at the back of a certain green-haired student's head after their confrontation in the classroom.
Zoro stood casually with his arms crossed. He had refused to take off his haramaki. The green sash was wrapped tightly around his waist over the gym uniform, holding the Wado Ichimonji, the Sandai Kitetsu, and the cheap pawn-shop katana.
"A Quirk Assessment Test?" Uraraka asked, her voice filled with worry. "What about the entrance ceremony? The counselor meetings?"
"If you want to be Pro Heroes, we don't have time for leisurely events," Aizawa said, standing before them with his hands buried in his pockets. "U.A.'s selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes."
Aizawa pulled a small device from his pocket.
"Softball throwing, standing long jump, fifty-meter dash, grip strength..." Aizawa listed off in a bored, monotone voice. "You did all these in middle school. But you weren't allowed to use your Quirks. The country still uses averages taken from results devoid of Quirks. It's not rational."
Aizawa stopped and looked at the angry blond boy.
"Bakugo."
Bakugo stepped forward, his hands shoved into his pockets.
"You scored the highest Villain Points in the practical exam," Aizawa said, tossing him a baseball. "In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?"
"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo scoffed.
"Try doing it with your Quirk," Aizawa instructed, pointing to a white circle painted on the dirt. "You can do whatever you want, as long as you don't leave the circle. Give it all you've got."
Bakugo stretched his arms, a feral, arrogant grin stretching across his face. He stepped into the ring. This was his element. He was going to show the entire class—especially that Quirkless sword freak—what true power looked like.
He leaned back, his right arm winding up like a coiled spring.
"DIE!" Bakugo roared.
A massive, fiery explosion erupted from his palm the exact moment he threw the ball. The blast wave pushed the front row of students back, filling the air with the smell of burnt gunpowder. The baseball shot into the sky like a rocket, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it.
"Die?" Midoriya squeaked, sweat-dropping at his childhood friend's battle cry.
A digital beep echoed from Aizawa's hand. He turned his phone around to face the class.
"Know your own maximum first," Aizawa said flatly. "That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."
The screen displayed the number: 705.2 Meters.
"Seven hundred meters?!" a boy with spiky red hair yelled in pure shock.
"Awesome! That looks so fun!" a pink-skinned girl cheered.
Bakugo smirked, wiping a bit of soot from his cheek. He looked immensely satisfied. He turned around and immediately locked eyes with Zoro, his red eyes burning with absolute superiority. Beat that, extra.
Aizawa sighed. "Fun, you say? Alright. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests... will be judged to have no potential, and will be punished with immediate expulsion."
The class erupted in panic. Midoriya looked like he was going to pass out.
"Now," Aizawa said, cutting through the noise. He pulled another baseball from his pocket. "Let's see the actual First Place winner. Roronoa Zoro. You're up."
The panic died down. All eyes turned to the mercenary-looking teenager.
Zoro uncrossed his arms. He walked slowly toward the white circle, ignoring Bakugo's burning glare as they passed each other. Aizawa tossed him the ball. Zoro caught it effortlessly with his left hand.
"He doesn't have a Quirk," a blond boy with a black lightning bolt in his hair whispered. "How is he going to beat seven hundred meters?"
Zoro stepped into the circle. He looked at the small, white ball in his palm. It felt ridiculously light. He was used to swinging hundreds of pounds of solid steel.
He didn't take a standard pitching stance. He didn't stretch. He simply turned his body sideways, facing the vast, empty field. He shifted his weight to his back leg, anchoring his right foot deep into the dirt.
Then, he squeezed the ball.
Creak. The sound was distinct in the quiet courtyard. It was the sound of the leather and cork inside the baseball screaming under immense, unnatural pressure.
Zoro's right arm began to bulge. The sleeve of his gym uniform stretched as his bicep and tricep expanded. Dark, thick veins crawled up his forearm like a map of pure, demonic strength. The air pressure around the circle suddenly felt terrifyingly heavy.
"Wait..." Midoriya whispered, his green eyes widening in pure horror. "That posture... that's not a Quirk. That's just... raw muscle."
Zoro's eyes locked onto the horizon. A feral grin slowly spread across his face.
He threw the ball.
BOOM!
It didn't sound like a pitch. It sounded like an artillery cannon firing. A massive shockwave of displaced air exploded from the circle, kicking up a violent cloud of dust that forced Bakugo and the rest of the class to cover their faces.
The ball didn't fly in an arc. It tore through the air in a perfectly straight, horizontal line. It broke the sound barrier instantly with a sharp, ear-splitting CRACK!
Dead silence fell over the field.
The dust slowly cleared. Zoro was still standing in the circle, his arm extended. The ground beneath his feet was completely cracked and shattered from the sheer physical torque of his throw.
Aizawa didn't look surprised. He just looked at his phone.
Beep.
Aizawa turned the screen around.
815.4 Meters.
"EIGHT HUNDRED METERS?!" the class screamed in unison.
"Are you kidding me?!" the pink-skinned girl yelled, holding her head. "He threw it further than Bakugo without an explosion?!"
"He's a monster!" the red-haired boy yelled, pumping his fist. "That's so manly!"
Bakugo stood completely frozen. His red eyes were trembling as he stared at the cracked earth beneath Zoro's feet, and then at the screen in Aizawa's hand. The Quirkless extra... the guy he had just tried to intimidate... just beat his explosion with nothing but brute physical strength.
His absolute pride shattered into a million pieces.
Zoro walked out of the circle, ignoring the staring eyes of his classmates. He walked right past a paralyzed Bakugo, pausing for just a fraction of a second.
"Next test," Zoro said, a dark, competitive fire burning in his eyes.
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