Aizawa reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a stack of blue-and-white gym uniforms, tossing them onto the podium with a dull thud.
"Put these on and head out to the P.E. grounds," he commanded, his voice devoid of any first-day enthusiasm. "We're doing a Quirk Apprehension Test."
The class erupted in a wave of confused murmurs. "A Quirk test? But what about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?" Uraraka asked, her voice brimming with the nervous energy of a student who actually followed the handbook.
Aizawa turned his head, his gaze flat. "If you're going to become heroes, you don't have time for such leisurely events. UA's selling point is its freedom on campus. Which also means my freedom to run my class however I see fit."
He paused, a dark, predatory glint flickering in his bloodshot eyes. It was the look of a man about to pull the rug out from under a group of unsuspecting toddlers.
"The student who ranks last across all eight events will be judged as having 'No Potential'..."
Aizawa let the silence hang, heavy and suffocating, before dropping the hammer.
"...and will be summarily expelled."
The air in the room didn't just turn cold; it vanished. Iida's hand-chopping froze mid-air. Midoriya looked like he was about to physically dissolve into a puddle of anxiety. Even Bakugo's sparks died down, replaced by a sharp, focused tension.
Haruto leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning Aizawa's face.
'There it is,' Haruto thought. 'The "Rational Deception" gambit. High stakes, high pressure, designed to force a limit-break in the first act.'
Aizawa's eyes drifted toward Haruto, lingering for a fraction of a second too long.
"Natural disasters, big accidents, and selfish villains," Aizawa continued, his scarf beginning to drift upward as if possessed. "Calamities that can happen at any time or place. Japan is covered in 'unfairness.' It's a hero's job to combat that unfairness. If you want to play at being friends, go to a vocational school. This is UA."
He jerked a thumb toward the door.
"The demonstration is over. Prove you belong here. Last place goes home."
**********<>***********
The locker room was a cacophony of adolescent posturing and the sharp scent of aerosol deodorant.
Most of the boys were busy marveling at the UA gym uniforms, but Haruto was already half-changed, his movements swift.
As he pulled the navy blue tracksuit over his head, a shadow loomed over his bench. Bakugo stood there, his jaw set in a hard, aggressive line, staring at the lean, corded muscle of Haruto's back.
"Oi, Screwdriver," Bakugo growled, his voice low enough that only Haruto could hear. "I don't know what kind of stunt you pulled at the entrance exam, but don't think for a second you belong here. You're just a Quirkless bug waiting to get stepped on by a real Hero."
Haruto didn't turn around. He just finished zipping his jacket, the metallic shhhk of the zipper punctuating the silence. He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with the "camera" in the corner of the locker room.
"The Aggressive Rival is stuck in his pre-programmed dialogue. He can't process a player who didn't spend points on a Quirk tree."
He finally turned to face Bakugo, a small, weary smile on his face. "You know, Sparky, you're really dedicated to the bit. I respect the commitment. But if you spend all your energy barking at bugs, you're going to miss the actual boss fights. It's a rookie mistake."
"I'll kill you!" Bakugo's palms let out a warning pop, the smell of nitroglycerin filling the air.
"Probably," Haruto said, stepping past him with a casual pat on the shoulder. "But that would be a massive hit to your reputation, wouldn't it? Top Student Expelled on Day One for Murdering a Quirkless Extra. Think of the PR nightmare."
He walked toward the exit, passing a trembling Midoriya who was struggling with his shoelaces.
"Chin up, Broccoli-kun," Haruto muttered. "Try not to let your hardware crash before the first event."
**********<>**********
Last Trial : Ball throw
After bypassing the initial trials with a series of high-efficiency "glitches" — using compressed air to match the speedsters and calculated leverage to out-clench the heavy hitters — Haruto finally stood in the center of the throwing circle.
Now came the ball throw trial which was the climax of the "Physical Performance" patch.
The air around the training field was still heavy shattered expectations. Uraraka had just broken the physics engine with an "Infinity" score, and Midoriya had followed up by nearly taking his own finger off to clock a staggering 705.3 meters.
"Haruto Akagi. You're up."
The class went silent.
Compared to the literal gravity-defying and bone-breaking spectacles, the "Quirkless" kid felt like a transition scene.
Haruto stepped into the circle, rolling his shoulder.
'The human arm is a whip,' he thought. 'And a whip is just a series of levers designed to break the sound barrier.'
he pivoted his entire kinetic chain, starting from his lead foot and twisting his hips.
At the apex of the arc, his fingers flicked.
He'd modified his gym uniform's wrist cuff with a high-tension spring-coil during the "Locker Room" segment—a tiny mechanical assist.
Whir-r-r-r!
The ball cut through the air with a stabilized spin, keeping its velocity far longer than a standard human throw.
"82 meters," the device chirped.
It wasn't a kilometer. It wasn't infinity. But it was a world-class Olympic record set by a high-schooler with no Power-Up genes.
"Wait," Kaminari whispered, "He just out-threw most of the Quirk-users with... nothing?"
Aizawa didn't look at the screen. He stepped into the circle, his capture scarf twitching like a living snake.
His eyes glowed a dull, menacing red, and his hair drifted upward, fueled by a surge of power that usually made students' blood run cold.
"Akagi," Aizawa rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous frequency. "I've been watching your tricks The CO2 canisters in your shoes. The leverage tricks. The spring-coil in your sleeve"
He stepped closer, the red glow of his eyes intensifying. "By the standards of this school, you're cheating. You're bypassing the physical strain we're trying to measure. Why shouldn't I expel you right now ?"
Haruto didn't flinch. Even with his teacher's Erasure active.
he felt absolutely nothing—no loss of power, no sudden drain. He just wiped a smudge of dirt off his palm and looked directly into Aizawa's bloodshot eyes.
"Cheating is a matter of perspective, Sensei," Haruto said, his voice calm and sharp as a razor. "You told us to be rational. What's more rational than using every tool in the inventory to achieve the objective?"
He gestured to the ball still bouncing in the distance. "I'm Quirkless. My 'potential' in your database is a zero. I'm just showing you that your UI is outdated."
Aizawa stared at him, the red glow of his eyes slowly fading as the realization hit him: his Quirk was doing absolutely nothing to the boy standing in front of him.
There was no power to erase. He let out a long, weary sigh, the tension in his scarf relaxing.
"Logical," Aizawa muttered, turning back to the class and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But don't think your 'tools' will save you when a Villain decides to break them. There's no 'Undo' button in the field... Rankings are up. Look for yourselves."
****
The class crowded around the digital terminal as the final standings flickered to life.
1 Momo Yaoyorozu
2 Shoto Todoroki
3 Katsuki Bakugo
... ...
8 Haruto Akagi
... ...
20 Izuku Midoriya
Haruto leaned against a nearby equipment shed, hands back in his pockets, watching the ripples of Shock spread through the roster.
Bakugo stood frozen in front of the screen, his shoulders trembling. He wasn't looking at the top two names.
his eyes were glued to the number 8. A "Quirkless Extra" had just secured a spot in the top ten, outperforming half the class.
"Eighth..." Bakugo hissed, his voice a jagged edge.
Nearby, Shoto Todoroki finally shifted his gaze away from his own name. He looked at Haruto with a cold, analytical curiosity. In a world where power was everything, a boy who produced results with nothing but "tools" was unique.
"Wait, I'm... I'm not expelled?" Midoriya's voice broke the tension, his eyes wide as he saw Aizawa walking away.
"It was a logical deception," Haruto said, stepping up beside the green-haired boy.
"Aizawa-sensei just used a 'Perma-Death' threat to force a good performance out of everyone. It's a classic high-tier coaching move. Brutal, but efficient."
Toru's sleeves flapped excitedly as she bounced over. "Haruto! Eighth place! That's amazing!"
Toru's invisible excitement was so palpable it practically had its own gravitational pull.
Haruto offered her a two-finger salute.
"It's a solid starting position," Haruto remarked. "Top ten provides a decent buffer, but it also means I'm a high-value target now."
He felt the weight of several stares—Aizawa's lingering suspicion, Midoriya's bewildered hope, todoroki's glacial curiosity
and Bakugo's concentrated nitroglycerin-flavored rage.
'Tomorrow, the high-budget cosplay party officially begins.' Haruto thought, watching his classmates head toward the changing rooms.