Chapter Text
It had been a full day since U.A. hosted its annual Recommendation Entrance Examination, and now, gathered in the faculty conference chamber, the pro heroes prepared to deliberate on which students would be extended formal offers of admission.
The room smelled faintly of tea and ink — files stacked high, scores digitally projected across a glowing wall screen. Present Mic stood near the table, flipping through a thick stack of answer sheets, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and despair.
“There were some students who didn’t even try,” Hizashi said, thumbing through the top sheet with a theatrical sigh. “One of these kids wrote: ‘I think hamburgers and cheeseburgers work well with fries.’ That was in response to a reading comprehension question.”
A brief pause… and then laughter erupted.
Midnight chuckled into her palm. Even Yagi, seated with a polite slouch, cracked a rare grin. “Well, at least they had the courage to submit something,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s all agree not to pass the hamburger philosopher.”
The levity hung for a moment — before Nezu, ever precise, pressed a small button on the console before him. The lights dimmed slightly as the first exam results projected to the forefront of the room:
Recommendation Entrance Exam – Written Portion (Top Six)
- Yaoyorozu Momo – 100%
- Keita Kinta – 98%
- Todoroki Shouto – 95%
- Tokage Setsuna – 93%
- Honenuki Juzo – 86%
- Inasa Yoarashi – 74%
The faculty scanned the rankings in silence for a moment, digesting.
“I’m glad to see young Keita did well,” Toshinori said warmly, his gold eyes narrowing in recognition. “Bright kid. Disciplined.”
Nezu swiveled his chair toward him with a sly grin. “Already picking favorites, Toshinori-san?”
Yagi quickly raised his hands in defense. “No no! Nothing of the sort! My actual favorite hasn’t even taken the exam yet. Next month.”
That caught the attention of a few present — particularly Aizawa, who gave him a skeptical glance — but they let it pass.
“Miss Yaoyorozu is certainly a strong candidate,” Cementoss added, his voice deep and deliberate. “Perfect scores, and her Quirk has a frightening range of potential if cultivated properly.”
“Agreed,” Nezu replied, but then gestured toward another name. “Let’s talk about Mr. Yoarashi for a moment.”
The room shifted slightly as everyone focused in.
“It’s come to my attention,” Nezu continued, steepling his paws, “that he… stormed out of the building yesterday after his interview.”
The eyes of the faculty settled on Aizawa.
The underground hero sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, that was me. He came in all fire and thunder — heart’s in the right place, no doubt. But he’s holding onto something. A grudge, maybe. My bet? It’s aimed at Todoroki.”
“Hmm.” Nezu tapped his chin. “Interesting… we’ll come back to that.”
He pressed the next button.
Practical Exam – Obstacle Course Rankings
- Tokage Setsuna
- Inasa Yoarashi
- Yaoyorozu Momo
- Keita Kinta
- Todoroki Shouto
- Honenuki Juzo
“Tokage was incredible,” Midnight said, stretching her arms. “Honestly, we should’ve enforced a rule about how much of her body had to make it through. It was like chasing marbles down a slope.”
Nezu chuckled. “Indeed. She broke the school record for that course. Her limbs were practically unhittable.”
Snipe raised his hand. “I’d like to point something out. Kinta, Yaoyorozu, and Honenuki all did spectacularly, despite their Quirks being poorly suited for mobility-based exams.”
Present Mic shot a smirk his way. “You tryin’ to boost your own nominee’s score, partner?”
“Not at all,” Snipe replied coolly. “Just calling out excellence when I see it.”
Aizawa, arms folded, nodded. “He’s not wrong. Those three didn’t rely on raw Quirk power — they used tactics. Efficiency. Mental calculation. That’s what we should reward.”
Thirteen chimed in, “Hold on — how can we call Yaoyorozu’s Quirk ‘poorly suited’? She built a freaking moped in under ten seconds.”
A silence followed, broken only when Aizawa responded dryly, “She needed to know its chemical composition in full to do that. Which means she not only memorized gasoline, wiring, aluminum casting — but synthesized it under pressure. That’s terrifying.”
A collective hum of agreement passed through the room.
Nezu leaned back and tented his paws. “So far, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, Keita, and Tokage are all strong contenders. But… that could change.”
Aizawa looked sideways at him. “It will.”
Nezu tilted his head. “Oh?”
“Go to the next slide.”
Nezu obliged.
Interview Score Rankings (Excerpt)
- Todoroki Shouto – 13%
→ Interviewer: Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead)
A stunned beat of silence.
Even Midnight raised an eyebrow. “Thirteen percent?”
“Care to explain, Shouta?” Nezu asked, eyes gleaming.
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “The kid barely said a word. I asked him about team strategy, his values, role models, and goals. He gave one-word answers. When I asked what kind of hero he wanted to be, he said—”
A pause.
“‘Whatever wins.’”
The room winced.
“That’s… bleak,” said Thirteen.
“Or honest,” added Cementoss.
“His power’s immense,” Aizawa conceded. “But he doesn’t have the emotional maturity to use it properly. Not yet.”
Yagi, visibly troubled, leaned forward. “He’s Endeavor’s son. We shouldn’t be surprised.”
Nezu was still. Watching. Calculating.
“Even so,” the principal said softly, “it presents us with an ethical question. Do we reward performance — or potential?”
Snipe crossed his arms. “Kinta and Yaoyorozu gave us both.”
“Speaking of Keita…” Present Mic’s voice suddenly broke through the scrolling data, almost like a record scratch. His usual cheer was spiked with incredulity. “HOW THE HELL DID HE GET A HUNDRED PERCENT WITH YOU, NEZU?!”
He pointed a dramatic finger at the updated slide now looming overhead, the faculty room flickering with the glow of the screen:
Interview Scores (Interesting Candidates)
- Keita Kinta – 100% – Nezu
- Yaoyorozu Momo – 94% – Midnight
- Tokage Setsuna – 91% – Cementoss
- Honenuki Juzo – 89% – Thirteen
- Inasa Yoarashi – 42% – Aizawa
- Todoroki Shouto – 13% – Aizawa
There was a beat.
Then…
“WHAAAT?!” Midnight screeched, nearly dropping her coffee.
“Is that even possible?!” Rumbled Hound Dog, fur bristling slightly in disbelief.
“Keita…” Snipe muttered under his breath, hat tilting slightly as he stared at the data.
Even Eraserhead’s eyes twitched open wider than usual. “…He outscored everyone in your interview?”
Thirteen leaned forward, confused. “What the hell, Nezu?”
The principal placed his paws on the desk, ever-smiling.
“Okay! Okay!” Nezu squeaked, raising one paw like a judge calling for order in court. “Settle down, settle down. I’ll explain.”
They didn’t settle down.
Hizashi leaned over to Yagi, whispering, “Are we sure this isn’t a prank? Like… is this kid secretly part of a chess cult or something?”
Yagi didn’t answer — his gaze was fixed, golden eyes blinking slowly in thought.
Nezu cleared his throat. “Yes. Keita requested me for his interview. He walked into the room — confidently — dodged a surprise turret blast, and without even flinching, requested tea.”
“…you shot at him?” Aizawa asked.
“A minor security test,” Nezu chirped, tail flicking.
Midnight folded her arms, frowning. “And this led to a perfect score how, exactly?”
Nezu’s grin grew sly. “Well, once we sat down, I suggested a game of chess.”
There was a collective “Uh-huh…” from the room.
“I asked him standard questions at first: why he wanted to be a hero, what brought him to U.A., what kind of world he wanted to create. Nothing unusual. His answers were thoughtful, articulate… maybe even a bit ideological.”
“Still not seeing the one hundred percent,” Thirteen said.
“Then he turned the interview on me.”
Everyone froze.
“I wasn’t just assessing him,” Nezu continued, voice dropping an octave. “He was reading me. Every move I made on the board, every line of questioning, he adjusted. Subtly. Strategically. His responses weren’t just good — they were layered. He anticipated my counters, both in speech and on the board.”
He leaned back in his seat with a tiny flourish.
“And then he checkmated me. In 34 moves.”
The room exploded.
“THIRTY-FOUR?!”
“You’ve NEVER lost a game!”
“He WHAT?!”
Midnight was on her feet, heels clacking against the floor. “That’s not even human! You’re an actual genius rodent demon thing!”
“You’re telling me a 14-year-old outplayed Nezu at chess and logic?” Hound Dog barked, nearly tearing the evaluation form in his claws.
“WHAT DID HE EVEN SAY?!” Thirteen’s voice was louder than usual, her mechanical suit reacting to her agitation.
Nezu let them all spiral for a solid thirty seconds before he tapped his tiny teacup against the table. “What he said,” Nezu began smoothly, “was that he wants to become a hero not for fame or power — but to change the system itself. Not through brute force, but precision. To hold heroes accountable for reckless damage, and establish fair protections for civilians who lose everything in the crossfire.”
There was a breathless pause.
“He even cited the suicide rate increase from the destruction of Building J-9 during the Kinjou incident. Knew every stat. Quoted two sociologists. And predicted my midgame knight trap two turns ahead.”
“…This kid’s terrifying,” Cementoss muttered.
“And brilliant,” added Snipe.
Aizawa glanced down at the scores. “This interview score… isn’t just accurate. It’s earned.”
Yagi, who had been silent until now, finally broke his silence with a small nod. “I told you all. He’s the kind of hero the future needs.”
Nezu folded his paws.
“I haven’t been bested in a chess interview in… a decade. And never like this. I wasn’t simply beaten — I was seen. The boy saw through me, through my intentions. That is what earned him one hundred percent.”
The room finally quieted.
Somewhere, in that hush, Present Mic muttered: “…How does a rich insurance kid end up that sharp?”
Nezu chuckled. “Oh, we’ll be finding out soon.”
“Nezu, I want him in my class,” Aizawa said firmly, arms crossed, the dark shadows beneath his eyes slightly deepening with resolve.
Nezu, perched near the edge of the long meeting table, blinked once. “Very well—”
“Wait a minute!” A sharp voice cut in from across the table.
Vlad King sat forward, eyes narrowed, arms braced against the table. “This isn’t fair. Why does he get to just pick and choose his roster?”
Nezu tilted his head to the side with a polite smile. “We’ll discuss class distributions in a moment.”
Aizawa, unbothered, leaned in and muttered under his breath to Vlad, “We’ll settle it later.”
The air cooled slightly. Nezu nodded and tapped a few keys, pulling up the official placement board. A soft blue glow filled the room as four empty spaces sat waiting on each side of the screen — Class 1-A and Class 1-B.
“Alright,” Nezu said, tone clipped but cheerful. “Let’s finalize the top four. These students will be split between Classes 1-A and 1-B. This year’s recommendation pool was small, but deeply competitive.”
The board hovered silently. Nobody moved. It was Aizawa who spoke first.
“I’ve reviewed the results of the tests, practicals, and interviews. After weighing the strengths and weaknesses of each candidate… I think the most balanced distribution would be this:”
He stood and walked to the board, tapping each name as he spoke:
“Yaoyorozu and Keita into Class 1-A. Honenuki and Tokage into Class 1-B.”
Vlad glanced at the board. “…Not a bad balance,” he admitted. “Tokage’s mobility would compliment 1-B’s current track. And Honenuki’s versatility has leadership potential.”
Present Mic gave a thumbs-up. “I like the balance of thinkers and brawlers between the classes. Keeps everyone sharp!”
But Vlad wasn’t done. He glanced back at the remaining name.
“Todoroki’s not included,” he said flatly. “We’re failing Endeavor’s son? Just like that? I thought the interview was important, but not a complete game-changer.”
A moment of silence passed. Then Hound Dog growled low. “It’s not just the interview. Do you all remember what happened during the race?”
They did.
Every faculty member’s mind flashed back — the long hallway, the peppering turrets, the massive slab of ice crashing through the air… aimed directly for a student’s skull.
“That moment could’ve ended in death if Keita hadn’t reacted,” Thirteen muttered. “One second later and we would’ve had a funeral.”
“Exactly.” Aizawa’s voice was cold steel. “Todoroki’s recklessness nearly killed another candidate. He didn’t even look back. He treated it like a strategy game—like it didn’t matter.”
“I get that the kid has power,” Snipe added, “but what good is strength if you can’t think three feet beyond it?”
“Or care three feet beyond it,” Midnight said quietly.
“Keita saw the danger and corrected it instinctively,” Aizawa continued. “No hesitation. His quirk isn’t built for defense or mobility, and yet he saved a life. That says more about his value as a hero than Todoroki’s entire performance.”
Vlad exhaled and leaned back. “Still… there’s something to be said about Todoroki’s potential.”
“There is,” Nezu agreed. “But potential alone doesn’t make a hero. Integrity does.”
The faculty were quiet again, but now with a sense of mutual resolution.
Nezu looked at each of them in turn. “So. To confirm. The four chosen for admission this year through recommendation are—”
He tapped the board, and the names filled in accordingly:
Class 1-A
- Yaoyorozu Momo
- Keita Kinta
Class 1-B
- Honenuki Juzo
- Tokage Setsuna
Nezu sat back in his chair and folded his paws.
“Does that sound good to everyone?”
There were nods around the table. Some reluctant, some confident, but all united.
“Good,” Nezu smiled. “Let’s prepare the letters.”
________________________________________
Keita sat in his room, staring up at the intricately painted ceiling of the Sunrise Estate. The sunlight spilled through the glass panes, casting a lattice of golden reflections across the polished wood floor. Still, his mind remained restless.
Anything to get my mind off that exam…
He sighed and picked up his phone, idly unlocking it. To his surprise, a new message had popped up—from Momo.
His eyebrows rose.
Momo:
Hey Kinta! How are you feeling about the test?
He blinked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile as he typed back.
Kinta:
Hey Momo! I’m feeling decent! How are you?
Momo:
I’m doing good! Wanted to ask if you wanted to catch up!
Kinta:
Uhh definitely, but don’t you live in Aichi?
Momo:
I do, but my parents have some business in Hosu. (And also I’m really bored) :)
Kinta:
Yeah sure then! Can you escape from them?
Momo:
Have you met me? Of course I can!
Kinta:
Alright, I’ll send you my favorite coffee shop in Hosu. Should be just a short drive if you’re already in the city.
Momo:
Alright, see you there!
Kinta locked his phone and stared at the screen for a second longer, as if expecting it to disappear. A girl had just texted him. A girl that wasn’t his sister. Or his mom. Or his cousin. Or his… well—it didn’t matter.
He shot to his feet.
In five minutes, his wardrobe lay scattered in elegant chaos across his bed. Eventually, he settled on black dress pants, a cream-colored button-down, and sleek, shined dress shoes that caught the light just enough to look deliberate. A spritz of subtle cologne, and he was ready.
But now came the final boss.
As Kinta made his way toward the front steps of the estate, a shadow loomed at the top of the grand staircase.
“Now, now, Kinta,” came a low, slow voice. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?”
He froze mid-step.
Standing at the top of the stairs, arms folded and gaze sharp as glass, was Catherine—the Head Maid of the Sunrise Estate. But calling her a maid was a grave understatement. Catherine was the iron heart of the mansion, enforcer of discipline, and the last person you wanted to lie to. She had once tackled a home invader using only a shoehorn and a tray of tea.
Kinta turned slowly, offering her a sheepish smile. “Catherine. Lovely weather we’re having.”
She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“I was just… going out.”
Catherine descended the stairs with quiet, terrifying grace, like a queen approaching her throne. When she reached him, she took his wrist in her gloved hand—not harshly, but firmly. Her gaze met his like steel tapping a glass.
“You know the rules, Kinta-sama. You do not leave the estate grounds without a security escort or written consent. Especially not while you’re still waiting for your letter from Yuuei.”
Kinta gulped. “Right. Of course. But this is just… just a quick coffee. Harmless. I promise.”
“With whom?”
“Just a friend.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes, her expression unreadable.
“You’ve never worn cologne for a friend.”
Kinta winced. Was it that obvious?
“…It’s Momo,” he admitted under his breath.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Ah. The Yaoyorozu girl.”
“You know her?”
“I know everyone, Kinta-sama.”
There was a beat of silence.
She released his wrist. “You have exactly two hours. I will inform your parents that you’ve stepped out. If you’re late—”
“I won’t be.”
“—I will assume you’ve been kidnapped, and dispatch every available security agent within the prefecture.”
“…Got it.”
She stepped aside and motioned toward the doors. “Then enjoy your little rendezvous. But should this girl break your heart, I will mend it—with a belt.”
Kinta gave her a low bow. “Understood, Catherine.”
As he left, the doors of the Sunrise Estate closed behind him with a soft thud, and the sun kissed his skin with the warmth of freedom.
________________________________________
The coffee shop wasn’t exactly renowned, nor did it boast a flashy name or prime location. Tucked into a quiet corner of Hosu’s shopping district, it was the sort of place you had to know to find. Momo Yaoyorozu had certainly never heard of it—until Kinta recommended it.
She stepped lightly out of the sleek, dark vehicle that her family’s chauffeur had parked by the curb, giving the man a polite nod as she adjusted her coat. The bell above the café door chimed softly as she entered, and she blinked in surprise.
Lively was the word.
The air was warm and fragrant with cinnamon and roasted beans. The interior felt like something plucked out of an English countryside estate—stone archways, wrought-iron chandeliers, mahogany walls lined with vintage paintings. A large aquarium along the left wall cast cool blue light across the space, filled with vibrant koi and a single lazy eel that drifted by the rocks.
How on earth can a place this obscure afford something like this? she wondered, stepping up to the counter.
Her eyes scanned the menu, noting a wide selection of drinks: Turkish brews, Kyoto-style siphon coffee, lavender teas, and spiced seasonal blends. But she eventually pointed to the Earl Grey Lavender Latte—a delicate, refined choice with just enough sweetness and sophistication to suit her.
Just as the barista rang it up, the door chime sounded again.
A familiar warmth lit her face as she turned.
There stood Keita Kinta, silhouetted by the golden light pouring through the door. His black hair was neatly brushed, his golden eyes gleaming with a glint of mischief. He wore black dress pants and a cream-colored shirt with just the faintest gold undertone—simple, tasteful, and effortlessly elegant.
He offered a small smile and a slight bow, voice dipped into theatrical politeness.
“Good morning, miss. Might I pay for your drink?”
Momo giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Oh, stop that, Kinta. I get more than enough of the High Society Talk at home.”
He chuckled and stepped forward, ordering a dark roast for himself—black, no sugar. His fingers idly flicked a coin into the air, the gold disk spinning like a miniature sun before landing perfectly on his index finger.
“You clean up well,” she said, watching the coin dance.
“Thanks. You too.” He grinned, then added, “Your parents had business in Hosu?”
Momo nodded. “With Idaten Industries, actually.”
Kinta’s face lit up. “You mean Tensei? I love Ingenium. He’s so cool.”
“He is amazing,” she agreed, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You know… there’s gossip about his love life.”
Kinta raised a brow. “Gossip? About Ingenium?”
Momo gave him a look and nodded dramatically. “Word is, he’s seeing Midnight.”
His eyes widened. “No way. You’re serious?”
“I’m very serious.”
He leaned back in disbelief. “Wow. That is… not what I expected.”
She sipped her drink, smiling over the rim of her cup, eyes drifting to meet his. “He also has a younger brother. Same age as us.”
Kinta paused, glancing down at the coin still resting on his finger. He caught it mid-spin and pocketed it with a soft clink. “This reminds me of when we met.”
Momo’s lips curved at the memory. “You mean the time we both tried to sneak away from that wretched gala?”
He laughed. “That’s the one.”
“I swear, I can’t stand those parties. The pompous speeches. The fake laughter. The five different forks at dinner.”
He nodded solemnly. “Truly barbaric.”
She laughed again, soft and genuine, and Kinta watched her smile as if trying to memorize it. After a pause, he glanced up with a slightly nervous look.
“Hey, when’s your birthday?”
She tilted her head. “September 23rd. Why?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, golden eyes looking away for a moment. “I was wondering if maybe… after we get our letters back from Yuuei… if you wanted to do something. Together. Mine’s January 27th, but—maybe we celebrate our accomplishment together?”
She stared at him for a moment before her face brightened. “I’d love that, Kinta.”
He smiled—genuine, not performative—and leaned back in his seat, a bit of tension visibly leaving his shoulders.
“Great. It’s a date then.”
She blushed but didn’t look away. “Definitely.”
And for a few minutes more, in a quiet little corner of Hosu, the expectations of legacy, power, and prestige melted away—replaced by two teenagers, one soft promise, and the warmth of coffee between them.