The week we spent in Gym Gamma felt like an intense military training camp. Every day was a cycle of pain, failure, and hard-won small progress. I saw my friends transform. I saw Midoriya, with help from Mei Hatsume, develop steel soles and arm bracers to support his new Shoot Style. I saw Bakugo perfect his AP Shot, turning his crude explosions into a concentrated attack that could pierce steel. I saw Todoroki learn to balance his ice and fire better, reducing the weakness from overuse. The entire Class 1-A was evolving.
I myself spent every precious second in a silent battle within my own mind. Meditation and concentration became my weapons. I learned not just to summon Incursio, but also to 'persuade' it, to shape it. The manifestation of the short sword on my arm became more stable each day, though every time I summoned it, it felt like my muscles were being pulled and twisted. It was a painful power, but now, it was a pain I could control. I wasn't ready to create a spear like Neuntote from my dreams, but I had fangs. And I intended to use them.
On the morning of the exam, the air inside the bus heading to the Dagobah National Arena was different. There was no longer the fear or trauma from the trip to the training camp. There was a sharp competitive tension and a cold focus. We were no longer just kids who had survived a villain attack. We were representatives of U.A., the number one hero school, and we all knew that today, all of Japan would be watching.
"Listen up, all of you," Aizawa-sensei said from the front of the bus, his flat voice cutting through the silence. "Don't forget what happened at the Sports Festival. You, especially Class 1-A, are the center of attention. Every other school out there sees you as a target, as the standard they have to beat. Don't act arrogant. Don't underestimate anyone. Get in there, do your best, and get your licenses."
When we arrived, I immediately understood what he meant. The place was packed. Thousands of students from various hero schools across the country were gathered in front of the giant arena, all wearing their hero costumes, all radiating an aura of confidence and competition. I could feel their stares on us as we walked past, a mixture of admiration, jealousy, and outright hostility.
"Wow, there are so many people," Uraraka whispered, looking a little intimidated.
"Of course," Iida said, moving his arms stiffly. "This is one of the two most prestigious annual license exams!"
Suddenly, a woman with a very wide smile and bright green hair approached Aizawa-sensei. "Shota! You came too! I missed you so much!" she exclaimed cheerfully.
"Don't get near me, Emi," Aizawa growled. It was Ms. Joke, a pro hero and teacher from Ketsubutsu Academy. She began to tease Aizawa relentlessly, which was only met with a bored and annoyed look, a strangely amusing sight.
However, my attention was diverted when a group of students in different uniforms—dark, militaristic-style uniforms with distinctive hats—walked past us. They were students from Shiketsu High School, U.A.'s eternal rival from the west. At the front of their line walked a very tall and well-built young man with a buzz cut. He walked with an overflowing passion, shouting about spirit and zeal, even going so far as to slam his head on the ground in a very over-the-top apology for blocking our path. It was Inasa Yoarashi, one of the most recommended students who had rejected U.A. His aura was incredibly strong.
Behind him, another student looked at us with a condescending gaze. "U.A., huh? The quality has dropped this year," he said in a disdainful tone.
Bakugo was instantly ignited. "WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU DAMN MEATBALL?!"
Before a fight could break out, we were all called into a giant orientation room. A pro hero named Mera, who looked extremely tired and sleep-deprived, explained the rules of the first round in a monotone voice.
"Alright, everyone, welcome," he said with a yawn. "The rules of the first round are simple. There are 1,540 of you. You will all enter the giant arena simultaneously. Each of you will have three targets attached to your body. You will also be given six balls." He pointed to a screen. "Your job is to hit two of an opponent's targets with your balls. If all three of your targets are hit, you're out. The first one hundred people to light up two of their targets and eliminate two opponents will advance to the next round. Good luck, or whatever."
His lack of enthusiasm just made the atmosphere more tense. As he finished speaking, the walls around us suddenly collapsed downward, revealing a vast arena with various types of terrain: an urban area, an industrial zone, and a rocky field.
"The exam... BEGINS!"
Instantly, the thing Aizawa-sensei had warned us about happened. Yo Shindo, a student from Ketsubutsu, smiled slyly and slammed his hands on the ground. "Sorry, U.A.! But this is a tradition!"
Tremor!
The entire ground beneath us shook violently. The concrete floor cracked and split, separating Class 1-A from each other in an instant. I was thrown to the side, separated from Momo and Toru. As I regained my balance, I saw a horrific sight. Hundreds of students from all the other schools, without hesitation, all turned and charged toward us, the now-isolated students of U.A.
"U.A. CRUSHING!" someone yelled.
I was surrounded by at least fifteen students. They looked at me with predatory grins, seeing an easy target in my cloak. "Look! It's the festival champion! Let's take him out first!"
I sighed, feeling the calm beat of my dragon's heart. 'So that's how it's going to be,' I thought.
In another part of the arena, Bakugo was laughing his head off. He was also surrounded, but he didn't look scared. He looked ecstatic. "COME AT ME, ALL YOU EXTRAS!" he roared, unleashing a massive explosion that sent his opponents flying. "I'LL TAKE YOU ALL ON!"
Todoroki, on the other hand, remained calm. He immediately created an ice fortress around himself, firing sharp ice spikes at anyone who tried to get close, disabling them one by one with cold efficiency.
Momo's group, consisting of herself, Jiro, Tsuyu, and Shoji, immediately formed a defensive formation. "Shoji, watch from all directions! Jiro, detect their movements! Tsuyu-chan, use your tongue to keep them at a distance! I'll create whatever we need!" Momo yelled, taking command with confidence. She had learned from her experience.
I myself was in a difficult situation. I was surrounded, and I couldn't use a wide-area attack. I had to conserve my energy. I couldn't bring out my Incursio sword now; it was too much of an overkill and would drain my stamina too quickly. So, I relied on something else: speed and close-quarters combat.
The students charged at me simultaneously. I didn't back down. I manifested my leg guards and gauntlets, the familiar pain now feeling like a jolt of energy. I moved. I danced between their attacks. I dodged thrown balls, parried Quirk-enhanced fists, and used my opponents' momentum to my advantage. I wasn't trying to eliminate them. I was just defending, frustrating them, making them waste their balls in vain.
But there were too many of them. I knew I couldn't keep this up forever. One of them, a large student with a Quirk that allowed him to grow four arms, managed to grab me.
"Got you!" he growled.
His group cheered, all aiming their balls at me, now that I was immobile. This was the end of my defensive game. It was time to show my fangs.
"You're right," I said to the student holding me, my voice calm. "You caught me."
He smiled in satisfaction. But his smile vanished when he looked into my eyes and felt the sudden heat that began to radiate from my body.
I looked at the group in front of me, ready to throw their balls. I took a deep breath, feeling my dragon's energy respond to my call. Playtime was over.
"Enough playing around," I whispered to myself, as the serrated, deadly black blade of Incursio began to rapidly form from my right gauntlet, letting out a threatening hiss.