When I finally woke up from my nap, the exam was already over.
Marumine headed straight home without speaking a word to anyone.
The train ride back was violently bumpy.
Normally, that constant rattling would have set his nerves on edge, but today was different.
"Perfect."
On rare occasions, Tori did give himself some credit.
Even the gray buildings flashing by outside the window seemed to be blessing him.
The moment Tori set eyes on the exam site, he had instantly pinpointed which evacuation robots needed attention.
"This is the perfect excuse."
A hero’s duty was, above all, to save civilians—not to engage in combat.
So prioritizing the rescue of those very robots couldn’t be faulted by society.
What was especially advantageous was that Tori’s [Quirk] was exceptionally concealable.
Rescue efforts might even earn him some extra points.
But what if he had rescued them in such an untraceable way that no one could properly assess his contribution? What if all signs of his [Quirk] activation had nearly vanished?
In other words, he’d have a foolproof alibi.
Tori had done his best in his own way, but…
Unluckily enough, he hadn’t been evaluated.
That wasn’t his only “achievement.” At the same time, Marumine had secured the dazzling result of zero villain points.
"Seriously, what are they even going to grade me on? Haha."
No matter which grader—or AI—looked at his answer sheet, it was practically blank.
An unmotivated student who had done nothing at all. He’d met every single criterion for a rejection notice.
He planned to tell his parents, "I did my best, but the wall of U.A. was just too high."
And that wasn’t even a lie.
No one in his position could have performed any better.
It was just that the grading system and his abilities hadn’t quite matched up…
Tori grinned from ear to ear.
The noise and dust of the exam already felt like a distant memory.
All that lingered in his mind was the sweet, fleeting sensation of the nap he’d enjoyed in the cool shade beneath the rooftop water tank.
Now, all that remained was to enroll in a fairly ordinary high school and while away his days lazing around with the girls—just as he’d planned.
The walk from the train station to his house was familiar—a quiet residential enclave lined with neatly trimmed garden trees and tall walls.
His house, among them, was a particularly pristine Japanese-style home that exuded calm and order.
When he opened the front door and stepped inside, he was greeted by the cool, clean aroma of polished wood mixed with the savory scent of miso soup—a sure sign that dinner was being prepared.
"I'm home—"
As he kicked off his shoes and offered his automatic greeting, the sliding paper door deeper in the hall quietly opened behind him.
There stood his mother, Marumine Chiyoko, her hair neatly pinned up and dressed in refined indoor attire made of expensive silk.
Instead of her usual gentle expression, her face was drawn tight with anxiety, like parched earth cracking under an unyielding sun.
"Tori, welcome back. The exam… how was it?"
Her voice trembled ever so slightly. Tori clicked his tongue in silent disapproval.
That look on her face—an abnormal passion and almost obsessive fixation on heroes—spoke volumes.
It was all proof of the living legend that was All Might.
"Eh, it was whatever. Super noisy, super annoying," he replied nonchalantly with a shrug.
His loose school uniform and indifferent demeanor stood in stark contrast to his mother’s tense worry.
"You must be tired. Dinner’s almost ready, so go wash up. Your father is… waiting," she urged.
Without a word, he nodded and made his way from the living room to the bathroom.
In the center of the room, he could make out the back of his father, Marumine Kenshin, seated formally on a thick cushion with a newspaper spread open before him.
Even though his son had returned, Kenshin’s attention remained fixed on the paper as he read about the latest hero exploits.
One could almost imagine the old man waiting for the day his son would finally grace those pages...
"No chance. I'm failing for sure," came the silent thought.
Kenshin let out a quiet snicker and splashed some water over his head. Today, he could tolerate any discomfort.
Because today was the day Tori would finally break free from the family’s legacy of expecting him to become a hero.
After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, Tori returned to the living room to find dinner meticulously set out.
Yet, not a single set of chopsticks was raised.
Tori waited for his parents to speak, while they, in turn, waited for their child—the one who had just taken the most important exam in the world—to break the silence.
The tension filled the room like steam rising from a bowl of rice.
Chiyoko nervously fiddled with her teacup, and Kenshin remained motionless, his eyes locked on a single newspaper page.
"Um…"
It was Chiyoko who finally broke the silence.
"So… when did they say the results would come?"
"Who knows? They said it’d come by mail. Probably a few days," Tori replied absently, picking at his rice with his chopsticks.
"Either way, it’s just a rejection notice," he thought.
He’d already anticipated the outcome. In a few days, a family meeting filled with a mix of disappointment and consolation would take place, and all he needed to do was wear a suitably gloomy expression.
Then, with a sharp thwack, his father folded the newspaper and set it down on the table.
At that tiny sound, Chiyoko flinched. Kenshin turned his gaze toward his son, his deeply lined, impassive eyes revealing nothing.
"?"
Tori furrowed his brow.
His father was strict, sure, but he was never one to deliberately create an unsettling atmosphere—especially not on a day like today.
As they waited in silence, Kenshin finally spoke, "There’s no need to lie."
"…Huh?"
Tori tilted his head in confusion, and Kenshin gestured toward the entrance with a jerk of his chin.
"It’s already here."
Only then did Tori notice the white envelope sitting on one side of the living room table—a detail he was certain hadn’t been there when he first arrived.
A thick red seal, unmistakably bearing U.A.’s mark, was stamped boldly on it, and the seal itself had been slightly peeled open.
"No way. The exam was today, and it’s already here?"
But even more striking was his father’s expression.
Did he really see it?
He did see it?
Was that why he was acting this way?
No.
His father was a sensible man. He wouldn’t have opened his son’s documents first...
"Damn it!"
If he were a die-hard hero-obsessed parent, maybe he would have.
"Ah, there it is," Tori said, a cold sweat breaking out as he tried to appear as calm as possible.
He rose from his seat and picked up the envelope. He could hear Chiyoko swallowing hard, and Kenshin’s gaze remained fixed on his hand like a sharpened spear.
The envelope was thinner than he’d expected. He tore it open with his fingers, and what emerged was not some elaborate holographic device but merely a single, stiff sheet of paper.
Unfolding it, he found no complicated wording. In the center, two bold characters—stroked as if with a brush—stood out clearly.
[ Pass ]
"...?"
Tori tilted his head, as if confronted with some bizarre, foreign symbol.
He recognized the word, of course…
After all, it wasn’t an obscure term that could be misunderstood.
Then, his usually half-lidded eyes suddenly sprang wide, and for a moment his brain just froze.
He rubbed his eyes repeatedly and looked again, but the characters remained unchanged. Pass. This was unmistakably an acceptance notice.
Amid his confusion, Chiyoko asked in a desperate voice, "Wh… what does it say? Tori, dear, what does it say?"
Tori was rendered speechless. His mind went completely blank. How? Why? Where had his perfect plan gone awry? He hadn’t smashed any robots, and there shouldn’t be any record of a rescue either. So why was he accepted? Was it a grading error? Or a case of mistaken identity? But the exam number was undeniably his.
Sensing the depth of his silence, Chiyoko rose and carefully took the acceptance notice from his hand. The instant her eyes fell on those two characters…
"Oh… oh my…!"
Tears sprang to her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand and exhaled a trembling sigh.
"Accepted… accepted…! Honey! Our Tori…! Our Tori got into U.A.!"
"Well done, my boy! I knew you could do it! Really… truly well done!"
But even as his mother celebrated, Tori, cradled in her arms, stared blankly into space. The weight of her joy pressed down on him like a block of lead. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. He could almost hear the sound of his peaceful life shattering into a million pieces.
Then, Kenshin rose from his seat. He moved over to his wife and son and, without a word, placed a rough, solid hand on Tori’s shoulder.
"..."
"Ah... haha..."
A deranged laugh burst forth from Tori.
He could all too easily imagine how his parents must be feeling.
The Marumine household had always been built on a fanatical worship of All Might.
Ridiculous as it was, it was an undeniable fact.
Next year.
All Might would take up a teaching post at U.A.
Next year.
Marumine would enter U.A.
Tori could easily imagine the strange chemical reaction those two closely intertwined declarations were having, filling his parents with happiness.
Tori didn’t want to be filial.
At least, not here.
And yet he ended up being filial nonetheless—for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom.
With a gentle tug, he pulled himself away from his mother and forced on his habitual, sly smile.
"See? I told you it was nothing special. Guess I just got lucky."
"Lucky? How is that luck? This is your talent!"
"No, seriously. I probably just scraped past the cutoff. Yeah, maybe I got in dead last. Well, whatever. I’m exhausted. I tried too hard and now I’ve lost my appetite, so I’m heading to my room first."
Shaking off his parents’ protests, he bolted for his room. The moment he closed and locked the door, his smile vanished as if it had been nothing but a lie.
What the hell had gone wrong?
Answering the aptitude test normally?
But I couldn’t not do that. It would all be on record.
Getting an average score on the written exam?
That too would be forever documented…!
He threw himself onto the bed. The crisp, crinkled feel of the acceptance notice in his hand was utterly displeasing.
"I'm screwed."
He had passed.
From now on, he’d be forced to keep doing all these annoying things.
And with that, his long, peaceful vacation was over.
Poor dude just wanted to live a peaceful life, unfortunately he's the protagonist.
thanks for the chapter