MHA: Thorny Path of a Pro-Hero

I slowly got up and, without making any sudden moves, edged away from the damn Evangelion, keeping my eyes fixed on it, moving away from Yui.

Two meters... five meters... seven meters...

Then the robot decided to share its opinion:

"K I L L E V E R Y O N E!"

"Screw you, arse," I shared.

"One minute left!" Mic cheerfully threw in his two cents.

For some reason, the killer robot only heard me, and it didn't seem to like my impromptu comment. It raised a massive armored arm, more like a naval battleship, and slammed it down where I had been standing.

Well, I managed to get its attention and divert it from the others. Hopefully, Izuku survived.

A push with my quirk to my legs. Rolled to the opposite side from Kodai. The shockwave hit; the ground trembled, causing me to topple over at the end of the roll.

A piece of concrete painfully dug into my shoulder, tearing through both my hoodie and the skin underneath.

Dust rose, and I coughed while moving away.

Task number four: how to take down this eloquent bastard?

Not talking about Mic here.

I see only one weak spot in this enemy. Besides the giant ball joint it's standing on, but I can't do much with that, and I need to draw it away, not immobilize it.

I sprinted past the robot, circling it and leading it away.

Glanced to the side.

Midoriya... got caught, phew. "I wonder, if she hadn't made it and All Might hadn't backed him up, would he have survived?" flashed through my mind. "He probably would have... he's the protagonist."

Alright, enough of calling him that. He's a living person, and I'm not in some kid's cartoon.

With that brilliant insight, I focused on the task—on the robot, and dashed to the side. The robot responded—creakily, literally—but followed me.

Near the buildings, I spotted a couple of applicants and yelled:

"There's a girl behind the robot! Wake her up, and he'll shrink! It's her quirk!"

I don't know if they'll bother, but U.A. will certainly react.

When is this damn exam going to end...

With that thought, I turned, accelerated, and closed in on the robot. Oddly, I didn't feel fear. Just a burning desire to finish this quickly.

Leaping two meters in a burst of speed, I smacked its leg joint. And leaped another two meters up. There was some sort of protrusion, which I grabbed onto, setting four new markers in place. Lucky. With a quick "hop," I reached something that could be considered its knee. Climbed onto it, refreshed the markers, and jumped off.

I was practically running up it like I had earlier along the wall, maneuvering with my hands. A maniacal grin spread across my face: I am awesome! Did you see that?! I can do this! I am a superhero!

The robot was slowing down. It probably hadn't realized where I was yet. Well, then this might be easier than I expec...

A sharp pain shot through my left ankle, and my foot slipped off the smooth surface of the robot's shoulder, causing me to smash my knee against it too.

An inward ankle sprain, I could immediately tell.

Wincing from the searing pain engulfing my leg, I hung onto the slope of the steel wall like a sad cat.

Damn it. I knew there was a catch to how they all leap around giant robots in anime...

Nevertheless, I still had three functioning limbs, markers and I had reached the weak spot. I'll have time to pity myself later.

Pushing off with my right leg, propelling myself with a powerful Multiplier and maneuvering with my left hand, I found myself directly in front of the robot's face. Right in front of the giant red well that was its visual sensor. With my right fist already drawn back, I poured everything into it—my fatigue, my fury, the speed I had built up, and years of training.

And yes—I executed the only move possible for me: replicating Midoriya's direct punch from a minute earlier, aiming at the only vulnerable spot I could see: the big, red visor, which for a split second reflected my contorted face.

I even managed to spit out something dramatic like, "Goodnight on the junkyard."

But... here's the problem: subconsciously, I expected the armor to be as weak as the other bots—fragile. After all, I'd smashed so many by this point...

But I was wrong.

The bot was much tougher than the training models—so much tougher that it felt like I had slammed my fist into a concrete wall. Or more accurately, a steel wall.

"Damn it..." I hissed through clenched teeth, activating the maximum enhancement available to me for the punch.

My right hand hurt like hell and wouldn't respond; I had probably broken it again. A belated realization hit me, and I groaned at my stupidity: "Of course, it's tougher! Yui's quirk strengthens and thickens objects!"

Well, at least the multiplied punch was glorious—the square head of the stupid robot literally caved in, the red visor cracked and shattered, scattering in a beautiful burst of red sparks. The robot rocked back...

And straightened back up.

Shit!

Desperately, I grabbed onto the nearest protrusion with my left hand—the frame around the visor—and pulled myself toward the robot's face. I somehow found a foothold with my left leg. It hurt, but I could manage. Anger surged through me. Oh, I am furious, I'm scared of myself right now, run, you sorry Megazord!

If one punch with my right, even at maximum power, wasn't enough, I'll go for quantity! And the muscles in my legs are much stronger, so the peak force will be comparable!

So, gripping the handle with my left hand with all my might, I swung back and kicked the damn metal face with my right foot. And boosted the impact, nearly throwing myself off in the process.

And again.

And again.

Like a madman, I growled, yelled, spat, and fiercely kicked and kicked the poor robot that had done no real harm to anyone, right in its stupid face, enhancing each boot to the maximum and causing something like small thunderclaps.

A model hero, right.

Eventually, it seemed to dawn on the robot that it was being killed, but it couldn't swat me away, likely due to the relentless kicks that threw off its coordination—its arms flailing uselessly in the air.

Every hit on the metal sent vibrations through it, causing my left arm to go numb, and I was only holding on by some miracle. I wasn't even thinking about how I'd get down. I was, apparently, not thinking at all, a berserk maniac.

I snarled furiously:

"Take that! Fall, you big piece of iron shit, you fell for the protagonist, so fall here too! Screw you, screw you, screw you!"

The robot still tried feebly to swipe at me with its stumpy arms, each time slower, but I was lucky that it was generally from the slow-witted series, and thanks to the short-circuiting from Yui's quirk (which, I remind you, tortures electronics mercilessly), it was even dumber.

For this reason, as I had suspected, and later confirmed, the now-dangerous robot couldn't be shut down by U.A.—the signal simply didn't go through. A nice little hole in the security system.

In total, I managed to land about a dozen psychotic attacks.

At some point, something sparked, and I was sprayed with some black, oily muck right from the thoroughly hammered head of the robot. I shook my head, stopping my assault, and started spitting (you should never break eye contact with an enemy). Damn, this liquid is "transfigured," damn it! Spit it out, quickly!

Luckily, there was no need to hit anymore.

The bot, no longer just a lightweight "Lightweight" one, froze, convulsed, then collapsed lifelessly, right under my feet.

It started rapidly shrinking mid-fall.

"Great," I managed to think, "Yui is okay..."

Then I started falling after it.

"Not great, I'm not okay..."

"Oh, crap! Aaaah!"

I desperately flailed my useless, mangled limbs in the air.

Just like Midoriya a minute earlier. Oh, what a wonderful comparison to a rocket-powered nerd.

"Shit, shit, shit! How will I..."

All Might, Endeavour, or someone, please catch me, save me, please!

"...land..."

I don't want to be splattered like pâté! I don't like meat at all! I'm vegan now!

"...with a broken..."

Okay. Straighten the body.

"...arm!?"

Damn, the arm... I bit my lip because swearing wasn't going to help now.

Nobody's going to help me; I don't have a grateful, rescued girl... well, I do, but she's out cold and wouldn't be much help anyway. And if All Might didn't rescue his own successor from the threat of becoming two dimensional, they definitely won't bother to save me.

Balanced. Now look around.

A funny movie flashed through my memory, where some daring guys were flying... on a tank.

Find a suitable building.

A flat roof.

There's one, about four meters to the right.

"Time's up!" I heard Mic's taunting voice, which somehow seemed to sound right in my ear.

Issue a boost in that direction...

... none left in reserve!...

Create it, then.

Swinging my arm, I hit my thigh with all my might with my left hand, after which my body was literally thrown in the right direction by two impulses—one from my left palm and the other from the thigh of my left much-abused leg. I even screamed. It's painful, let me tell you, to take the recoil of maximum amplification on your thigh!

However, not as painful as landing on the concrete roof from about seven meters, on my side. I managed to roll and turn away, but my broken arm was in the way, and the roof had such a stylish and convenient angular ledge that I just had to hit. Right with my back. And with my elbow too! Calculated perfectly!

There was a distinct crack on the right side. My breath caught, it felt like electricity shot through my spine, and my ribs, it seemed, decided to resign and go freelance.

I was tossed, rolled a few times, and just managed to stay conscious.

All I could do was wheeze, clutch my side, and listen to that damn Mic:

"Yes, yes, time's up; it even applies to you, our guest from another field! No exceptions in U.A.! Unless it concerns exceptionally high expulsion rate, hehehe!"

Oh, you... he's even mocking me... though maybe he's just keeping me awake?

Finally, I managed to inhale. Now all that was left was to lie still, breathe shallowly, and hope that someone found me before one of my broken ribs pierced a lung or liver.

And only now, lying on the roof, did I realize how much my broken wrist, along with my ribs, hip, back, and elbow, hurt like hell, how fiercely my feet were screaming, how unbearably my head was pounding, how my whole body was trembling from fatigue and adrenaline, and how desperately I wanted to sleep. A colossal weakness had settled in. Well, of course, I'd issued more than a dozen maximum multipliers... not to mention a few hundred normal ones… my eyes were starting to close on their own; even the pain wasn't helping to keep me conscious.

"David wins..." I groaned, weakly trying to raise my left hand in the air. "Flaw...less...vic...to..."

Sleep.

***

Same Time.

Observation Post of the Examination Commission. Underground Complex of U.A. Academy, Number Nine (the one beneath the network of Traininng Grounds. No, the faculty cafeteria isn't here! It's to the right along the central corridor!).

Principal Nezu.

"See? I told you right away, this group is full of promise! Did you see that? And why did he do it, did you see? He was protecting a girl… oh, how romantic," Nemuri Kayama pranced on the spot and hugged herself in a most inappropriate manner. "He caught my eye immediately. He didn't even glance at me. Ah, how wonderful it would be to see how he'd protect that girl… from me."

She slowly licked her lips, staring at the screen where, in one of the many open video windows, examinee number five thousand four hundred thirty six (thankfully labeled) distracted a giant robot away from an unconscious girl, then practically ran up the robot to turn the drone's head into a metal cutlet in mere seconds. The recording was already on its third replay.

The young ("I said, young!") heroine, known for her scandalous behavior—such as superhero costumes that were way beyond the pale, or photoshoots for adult magazines—was known to the public as Midnight, the Eighteen-Plus Heroine.

People don't care that her quirk, which emits a sleep-inducing scent from her body, is more effective the less clothing she's wearing... as a result, Nemuri has been called all sorts of names. "Stripper" is probably the tamest and most polite.

However, Midnight paid no heed even to much harsher insults. And anyone present, who knew anything about her background, understood why—everyone knew that after the kind of childhood Nemuri had in her school years, such behavior was forgivable. It was a relief that she had even survived... or hadn't become a villain.

The "pervert" and "pedophile" turned to the tiny figure of the Academy's principal, who was watching the spectacle of the students fighting big robots with the glee of a child. Yet, no one in the observation post was fooled by him either: Nezu only acted childishly when he could afford it.

At other times... well, better to face all the prisoners of Tartarus combined than this creature.

"Principal Nezu," boomed white-haired Kan Sekijiro, better known as Blood King Vlad, a professional hero who controlled his own blood and the homeroom teacher of Class 1-B. "Who did you slip into my Ground? This girl is a nightmare; she was in ten places at once at a height of a hundred meters. I couldn't even catch her with your damn elevator. How do you expect me to cover her?"

Nezu simply smiled in response.

Few knew this even among the heroes, except for the staff, of course, but most of the Academy's area was underground. For example, all the Training Grounds, where both entrance exams and regular student training took place, were connected by a network of corridors and numerous shafts of a "horizontal" high-speed elevator that, frankly, looked more like an armored train. And there were countless disguised hatches leading to the surface.

Using these invisible paths, during the exams, several U.A. faculty heroes were discreetly on duty under each of the active Grounds. They worked in shifts since almost everyone wanted to watch the exams. And if needed, they could reach almost any point in a Ground in a minute and a half at most.

Considering this, along with the help of the Recovery Girl, who could get most serious patients back on their feet in a few minutes, remotely controlled robots that could do far more than just take hits, and probably the best medical equipment in the country outside the Central Hospital in Tokyo, this exam was as safe as such an exam—with students and robots—could be.

At least, up until this point, there hadn't been any casualties among the examinees.

As for Midnight's new interest... meaning, the examinee number five thousand four hundred thirty six, help had already been dispatched to him in the form of the Recovery Girl and a couple of assistant drones with stretchers. As well as to the young lad All Might had requested assistance for.

It's worth keeping a closer eye on both, and perhaps even inviting them for a chat. And not just them. Nezu couldn't recall another time with so many raw talents among the applicants—so many in just one year. Good thing that besides these two, there hadn't been any serious injuries.

In reality, the Academy took great care of the health and safety of its future students, even if it created the illusion of the complete opposite for the sake of toughening them up.

The principal was fond of analogies and, for instance, often compared their applicants to unrefined ore—from which, through various processes like extreme bending, heating, and alloying, they create the perfect, balanced...

No, of course, what weapon? We're not barbarians. Instrument—that's the right word.

An instrument, a component for the proper functioning of society. A very important one!

Actually, the end of the exam always reminded him of an afterparty following a party (though, perhaps, only Midnight would appreciate such a comparison, so Nezu kept it to himself). The teachers would rise from their chairs, the duty officers from the commission (which still included almost all the U.A. heroes) would return from their posts, and then everyone would disperse along the enormous screen, where the brightest scenes and the most promising examinees were broadcast in small windows. Nobody spoke about it directly, but everyone was scouting for a potential personal student.

Toshinori Yagi, also known as the magnificent, albeit significantly weakened All Might, was watching the recording of his green-haired protégé's leap with a happy smile on his exhausted face... but every now and then, he glanced at a similar scene involving a blue-haired boy.

Suffice it to say, Training Ground "B" was the focus of attention today.

Well, not for everyone. Ryo Inui, baring his teeth in a grin, was rewatching a recording of a student from Ground "A," creating explosions and scoring the maximum points for villains; Midnight got distracted by the boy controlling the fog; and Shota Aizawa, frowning, was rewatching a recording from Ground "C."

"Principal," he addressed Nezu in a low voice, "I've said many times that your testing method is subjective. But here's another proof."

"Hmm? What's that, Aizawa-kun?"

"It seems that someone managed to pass it this time without using their quirk even once..."

Nezu couldn't help but clap his hands again. What a wonderful year!

Then All Might spoke up:

"I don't want to get into an old argument, Aizawa, but the main value of this test is to identify true heroes in the face of immense danger. The essence of a hero's profession lies in the spirit of self-sacrifice! Today, two people demonstrated that! No other test could have shown that. You know, I'm against unnecessary injuries, but..."

Eraser Head merely snorted and turned away, adjusting his "scarf."

Ryo, the Hound Dog hero, growled disapprovingly, jabbing a claw at the monitor (barely scratching it again):

"One of these 'two' left the exam! Not allowed! Doesn't count!"

And yes, sometimes his speech did sound more like barking. But who among us is without flaws?

Toshinori retorted passionately, not even noticing the thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth in his excitement:

"And that was the act of a true hero! We cannot turn away from such a sacrifice," he turned to Nezu, "Can we?"

Midnight also jumped into the conversation, standing right behind Yagi:

"But we could let them stew in uncertainty for a week… marinate in despair..."

All Might shivered and edged away.

"Yes, Toshinori-kun, you are absolutely right. We won't, it would be, at the very least, ungrateful, not to mention that the exam rules don't prohibit leaving the test location. And the young man not only saved his friend but also instantly understood the situation, which may have saved us from a tragedy. And a big scandal."

"But who could have known the girl's quirk would affect the robot's insides like that?" Higari Maijima, also known as the hero Loader, one of the country's top engineers, and incidentally, one of the developers of the Academy's defense system, which included the network of defense robots, protested (but very carefully, this was still the principal).

Old ones among them were disarmed, stripped of their composite armor, and sent to the exams—essentially for free disposal.

And yes, that was indeed a jab in his direction.

"He did," Nezu pointed a fluffy finger at the screen with the blue-haired boy who was now being revived, "he could have."