Chapter Nine — The Quirk Apprehension Test
The boys' locker room was loud.
Not obnoxious — just full of energy. Metal lockers clanged open and shut, shirts were tossed aside, and half the class was already comparing quirks, builds, or nerves.
Takeshi stepped inside quietly.
He wasn't trying to draw attention. But attention found him anyway.
As he pulled off his uniform jacket, a few heads turned. Then a few more.
His build was large for his age — dense, compact, powerful. Shoulders broad, back thick with muscle, arms corded and defined. The kind of physique that came from years of disciplined training and a quirk that demanded a fit body to handle it.
Kirishima whistled low.
"Dude… you're manly as hell."
Takeshi blinked. "Manly?"
"Yeah!" Kirishima grinned, slapping his own chest. "Like — solid. Built like a tank. Respect."
A blond boy scoffed from across the room. "Tch. Muscles don't mean anything if you can't use them."
Takeshi didn't rise to the bait. He simply finished changing into the gym uniform, movements calm and efficient.
Kirishima nudged him. "Ignore him. Some people get cranky when they're not the biggest in the room."
Takeshi didn't comment. But he noted the boy's sharp glare.
The one who scored the most villain points in the exam. That explained the attitude.
But he was here to grow, not to compete for the sake of his ego.
On the Field
The class gathered on the training grounds, the morning sun bright overhead. Aizawa stood before them, scarf draped loosely around his neck, expression unreadable.
"You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives," he began. "But you never got to use your Quirks in physical exams before. The country's still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It's not rational."
He turned to Bakugo.
"Bakugo. You got the most villain points on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw in junior high?"
"Sixty‑seven meters," Bakugo replied.
"Right. Try doing it with your Quirk."
Aizawa tossed him a ball.
Bakugo grinned like a wolf.
He stepped into the circle, wound up, and blasted the ball with an explosion that cracked through the air.
705.2 meters.
The class erupted.
Someone whispered, "Whoa… this looks fun!"
Aizawa's head snapped toward them.
"Fun? You think this is fun?"
He swept his gaze across the class, eyes narrowing.
"You have three years to become heroes. You think it's all going to be games and playtime? Idiots."
A few students flinched.
"Today you'll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last has none… and will be expelled immediately."
Gasps rippled through the class.
Aizawa continued, voice flat:
"Middle school coddled you with their 'no quirks in PE' nonsense. That ends here."
His gaze paused on Takeshi — just for a moment.
"Let's begin."
50‑Meter Dash
Takeshi stepped into the lane beside Iida.
He couldn't lighten himself — his quirk didn't work that way. But he could reinforce.
He inhaled, focusing density into his tendons and calves — not enough to weigh him down, just enough to stabilize the explosive force he was about to generate.
The starting signal blared.
Takeshi launched forward.
His stride was long, powerful, and clean. Reinforced tendons absorbed the shock, letting him explode off the line faster than most of the class.
For the first ten meters, he was ahead.
Then Iida's engines roared.
The blue-haired boy surged past him like a bullet, gaining speed with every step.
Takeshi kept his pace steady, efficient, and strong.
He crossed the finish line in 4.9 seconds — a very respectable time.
Iida dominated the event.
Aizawa's eyes flicked toward Takeshi.
Noted.
Todoroki glanced at him briefly — a quiet, calculating look. Bakugo clicked his tongue. Midoriya scribbled frantic notes in a notebook that seemed to appear from nowhere.
Grip Strength
Kirishima cracked his knuckles. "This one's mine!"
He wasn't wrong — his hardening quirk gave him a massive advantage.
Takeshi stepped up next.
He wrapped his hand around the device, exhaled, and increased his density — bones heavier, muscles denser, force channeling through his arm.
The machine groaned.
Metal creaked. Plastic casing strained. A hairline crack formed along the side.
Aizawa's eyebrow twitched.
"Takeshi. Don't break it."
Takeshi immediately eased off.
The device beeped.
780 kg.
Gasps rippled through the class.
Kirishima grinned. "Dude! That's manly!"
Bakugo's eye twitched. Todoroki raised an eyebrow. Yaoyorozu murmured, "Impressive…"
Aizawa scribbled something on his clipboard — slower this time, more deliberate.
Standing Long Jump
Takeshi couldn't lighten himself. But he could reinforce.
He focused density into his legs, stabilizing the force of his jump.
He leapt — not soaring like those who cleared the pit entirely, but landing solidly in the upper half of the class.
Repeated Side Steps
Takeshi's reinforced joints let him pivot sharply, but his natural weight made rapid direction changes harder than for lighter students like Ashido or Jiro.
He placed mid‑pack.
Ashido flashed him a thumbs‑up. Jiro nodded approvingly.
Sit‑ups
Takeshi's core strength was exceptional.
He finished on top for this one — even above Ojiro and Shoji.
Shoji gave him a respectful nod. Ojiro smiled faintly. "Nice work."
Endurance Run
This was where his quirk worked against him.
He couldn't lighten himself, and carrying dense muscle over long distances was taxing.
Even so, his long stride and disciplined training carried him into the top third.
Not spectacular — but solid.
Midoriya wheezed somewhere behind him. Kaminari nearly collapsed. Kirishima cheered him on the whole time.
Takeshi ignored the noise.
He was here to work.
Softball Throw
Aizawa called his name.
Takeshi stepped into the circle, ball in hand.
He inhaled, shifting density upward — bones heavier, muscles denser, weight anchoring him to the ground — and threw.
The ball cut through the air like a meteor.
612.4 meters.
Second place.
Aizawa's eyes flicked up from the device.
"…Interesting."
Todoroki's eyes narrowed. Bakugo's jaw clenched. Midoriya whispered, "A‑Amazing…"
Final Rankings
Aizawa gathered the class.
"Here are your results."
A holographic board lit up.
Takeshi scanned the list.
Class 1‑A — Quirk Apprehension Test Rankings
1st — Shoto Todoroki 2nd — Katsuki Bakugo 3rd — Momo Yaoyorozu 4th — Takeshi Yagi5th — Tenya Iida 6th — Fumikage Tokoyami 7th — Eijiro Kirishima 8th — Mashirao Ojiro 9th — Mezo Shoji 10th — Mina Ashido 11th — Hanta Sero 12th — Tsuyu Asui 13th — Yuga Aoyama 14th — Koji Koda 15th — Kyoka Jiro 16th — Ochako Uraraka 17th — Izuku Midoriya 18th — Denki Kaminari 19th — Toru Hagakure 20th — Minoru Mineta
Midoriya stared at the board in horror.
Uraraka patted his shoulder. "Hey, at least you're not last!"
Mineta wailed.
Aizawa sighed. "I lied about expelling anyone. It was a rational deception to bring out your full potential."
Half the class groaned.
Takeshi didn't react. But he wondered — Aizawa didn't seem like the type to make idle threats.
Aizawa's gaze drifted to him again — thoughtful, calculating.
"Takeshi. Your quirk has more versatility than I anticipated. We'll be testing its limits later."
Takeshi nodded once. "Understood."
Aizawa gave the faintest hint of approval.
"Class dismissed."
Aftermath
As they walked back toward the school, Kirishima clapped Takeshi on the back hard enough to jolt a normal person.
"Dude! Fourth place? That's awesome! You're seriously manly!"
Uraraka beamed. "Dense Guy did great!"
Midoriya looked up shyly. "Y‑You were amazing…"
Takeshi didn't bask in it.
He didn't need to.
He simply said, "There's room to improve. Besides… look at the rankings. If you're not first, you might as well be last."
Kirishima laughed. "Man, you're intense."
Takeshi didn't argue. His upbringing under his mother's strict standards would probably seem harsh to others. But others hadn't grown up with a mother in the top ten… And a father who once stood at the peak.
This was only the beginning.