Regardless of what Marumine wanted, Iida Tenya was yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Calling a classmate a defective product! That behavior is unacceptable for a hero! Maintain your dignity as a U.A. student!"
"Shut up, four-eyes! Does dignity put food on the table? If you lack the skills, you get culled! That's the rule at this school—no, in this entire society!"
Bakugo snorted, dismissing Iida's protest with a disdainful snort. He turned back toward Tori, a predatory smirk curving his lips.
"Listen up, you Deku-like bastard. You might have gotten lucky today, but I see right through you. You don't belong here. So quit being a nuisance and crawl out on your own."
A final ultimatum.
That settled everything. Yaoyorozu bit her lip and took her seat, while Uraraka could only look at Tori with pity. In that moment, the consensus in the classroom was clear: Bakugo had won, and Tori was utterly defeated.
Tori hung his head in feigned despair. Yet, beneath the desk, hidden from sight, a faint, uncontrollable grin slowly spread across his face.
Perfect. With the class this convinced of my incompetence, Aizawa won’t be able to protect me any longer. Once everyone sees me as useless and ostracizes me, all that talk about potential will mean nothing.
And that’s when my expulsion—long overdue—will finally come.
Rattle—Click.
At that moment, the front door of the classroom swung open once again, shattering the taut tension.
The once boisterous room fell into a deathly silence as Aizawa Shota entered. The homeroom teacher, who had just driven the students into a crucible of fear on the field, now stood before the lectern, looking lethargic and sleep-deprived.
His mere presence seemed to drop the room’s temperature by several degrees. Even Bakugo clicked his tongue and slid back into his seat.
Aizawa scanned the room with bloodshot eyes. Under the weight of his gaze, the students straightened up and fell silent.
"Don't waste any time. I'll keep these closing announcements brief."
He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
"Tomorrow's schedule is as follows: In the morning, you have English, a required subject. After lunch, the afternoon class is..."
He paused briefly.
"...Hero Basic Training."
Hero Basic Training.
The moment those words were uttered, a spark reignited in the eyes of the students. The crown jewel of U.A.—practical training to become a hero—had finally arrived, and the classroom buzzed with anticipation at the prospect of a truly meaningful lesson.
"The instructor is All Might."
"OOOOOOOOH!!!"
"Really?! All Might himself?!"
"That’s insane! As expected of U.A.!"
The room erupted into cheers. The thought of being personally trained by the legendary No. 1 Hero sent the students’ excitement soaring. Iida clutched his glasses in a mix of awe and disbelief, while Uraraka pumped her fist in pure elation.
"Tomorrow will be combat training. Costumes are authorized. The costumes, designed according to the details you provided on your Quirk registration and request forms before admission, will be distributed."
"Combat training! I've been waiting for this!"
Bakugo’s eyes gleamed as he shot a sidelong glance at Tori, clenching his fist. In his mind, tomorrow offered the perfect opportunity to completely and legally crush that incompetent weakling.
But Aizawa wasn’t finished yet.
"And..."
His voice dropped to a low, measured tone that instantly doused the excited atmosphere with cold water.
"There is one student who must attend a private interview before training begins tomorrow."
An interview?
The students exchanged confused glances. A private interview on the very first day? Had someone gotten into trouble, or was there a problem with a particular student?
Aizawa’s tired eyes slowly wandered to a seat by the window at the back of the room.
"Marumine Tori."
Tori flinched. All the cheers in his head suddenly fell silent.
"Ye... s?"
"Tomorrow morning, before homeroom, report directly to the Principal's office. A special interview will be conducted with both the Principal and me present."
"...The Principal's office?"
Tori’s voice cracked in disbelief.
This wasn't merely a summons to the office—it was a call from the pinnacle of U.A., from the enigmatic Principal Nezu himself. And with the homeroom teacher in attendance too, this wasn’t a standard student consultation. Was it a disciplinary committee meeting? Or perhaps an announcement of a forced transfer?
Instantly, the atmosphere in the classroom shifted ominously.
All eyes now fixed on Tori, their looks tinged with a gravity that differed from their earlier contempt. The mention of the Principal’s office carried tremendous weight.
"The Principal's office... Could it be because of today's exam results?"
"Is he really going to get expelled?"
"Wow, getting expelled after just two days? That’s going to be a legend."
Amidst the murmurs, the corners of Bakugo’s mouth curled into a victorious grin.
"Heh..."
He let out a low, satisfied laugh.
"See? I told you so."
Leaning back arrogantly in his chair, Bakugo bellowed for everyone to hear:
"The only reason that uptight Principal would call someone in personally is because you're utterly unqualified. By tomorrow morning, that desk will be empty. So pack up your things, you Deku-like bastard."
Bakugo’s confident interpretation was quickly accepted as fact by the class. It was clear—a special measure reserved for the absolute worst student, most likely a recommendation for withdrawal. The students began treating Tori as if he were already a non-entity, eagerly shifting the conversation back to the upcoming combat training.
Aizawa silently observed the commotion before locking eyes with Tori for a brief moment.
"...Don't be late."
With those words, Aizawa left the classroom.
But just before the door closed, Tori caught a glimpse of Aizawa’s eyes.
They weren’t the compassionate eyes of someone letting an expellee go.
They were the hard, penetrating eyes honed by years in a grueling profession.
Tori mentally reviewed the situation.
Bakugo is practically beside himself with glee, and the whole class treats me like I'm invisible. Up to this point, it’s been perfect.
But a special interview? And with that rat-like Principal?
If all they wanted to say was "You’re out because your grades are poor," a simple notice would have sufficed. The fact that they called me in early in the morning means...
Tori swallowed hard.
Tomorrow morning.
A dark premonition crept over him like the long shadows at sunset—this interview would mark the most inconvenient, troublesome turning point not only in his high school career but in his entire life.
"Hey, Marumine!"
As the school day ended, someone called out from behind Tori while he gloomy packed his bag.
It was Kirishima.
"Don't be too scared! Who knows? They might just be calling you for makeup lessons! A real man endures with grit!"
He patted Tori encouragingly on the back. That well-meaning, entirely unmalicious comfort only made Tori’s anxiety sting even more.
"Yeah... thanks..."
Tori mumbled weakly as he slipped out of the classroom, with Bakugo’s mocking laughter echoing behind him like an afterimage.
"See you tomorrow, extra. Or maybe I won't?"
The next morning, Marumine Tori stood before the door of the Principal's office as promised.
His tie hung loosely, and one hand was shoved casually into his pants pocket. The idea of knocking politely was nowhere in his mind.
'Click—'
With an utterly brazen disregard for decorum, he swung the door wide open.
"Excuse me—well, I don't really see it as an excuse, but whatever."
"You're five minutes late, Marumine."
"Ah, was I? On the way here, I spotted a cloud that looked oddly interesting. It looked like a rabbit, yet also like a dragon... I couldn’t quite decide in the end."
At Tori’s nonchalant reply, Aizawa’s pen froze in mid-air. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes, heavy with dark circles, appeared even more worn than yesterday—but the sharp intensity in them remained undiminished.
"Sit on the sofa in front of Principal Nezu. And spare me the airy excuses, no matter how imaginative your cloud story might be."
His voice was flat and emotionless, making his command all the more ominous.
Marumine shifted his gaze. There, almost swallowed by an unrealistically large leather sofa, sat a small, elegant creature with soft white fur, sparkling black eyes, and a graceful manner as it tilted a freshly brewed teapot.
This was U.A.'s pinnacle—Principal Nezu.
"Welcome, Marumine! Do you like black tea? These are made from the finest leaves," Nezu chirped in his characteristically high-pitched voice. His cheerful tone only seemed to intensify the bizarre tension in the room. Tori plopped down unceremoniously on the sofa opposite, crossing his legs with defiance.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass. I'm not in the mood to sip tea and chat," Tori replied.
"Oh, that's a pity. Nothing wakes the brain like a good cup of tea," Nezu said with a smile as he poured tea into his own cup. The gentle clink of the porcelain broke the silence. Aizawa watched the scene for a moment before slowly turning his attention back to Tori.
"Let's get to the point."
Aizawa retrieved a document from his pocket and slid it onto the table with a resounding thud. It was the results sheet from yesterday’s Quirk Apprehension Test—a seven-second 50-meter dash, average grip strength, an average standing long jump... Every category listed miserably mediocre numbers, and at the bottom was a red stamp declaring "Rank 20/20" as if it were a mark of disgrace.
Tori’s fingers, which had been idly rolling a coin along his knuckles, finally stilled.
Aizawa studied this motion for a moment before speaking in a measured, low tone.
"Is this the full extent of your power?"
Aizawa asked bluntly, his gaze piercing as if he would tolerate no falsehood.
"Yeah, pretty much. I gave it everything I had. Didn't you see yesterday? I almost threw up," Tori replied with a casual shrug, his tone disarmingly nonchalant.
"Pathetic," Aizawa retorted.
"It's so pathetic it's almost unbelievable. U.A. is a school where the finest talents in the country gather. Even if your Quirk isn’t perfect for combat, students endure countless hours of physical training and rigorous basics before even reaching high school. But your numbers... They’re at the level of an average high schooler with slightly clumsy motor skills. How on earth did someone like you pass that brutal entrance exam?"
"Maybe it was just luck?" Tori replied with a thin smile, as though he had been waiting for that very question.
"Luck," Aizawa scoffed.
He then pulled out another file—this time a tablet PC. On its screen played a simulation video featuring a complex 3D map with red and blue dots moving in a chaotic dance. It was the log data from Area B of the entrance exam.
"Now, explain this 'luck' of yours," Aizawa demanded.
Zooming in on a specific section of the screen, Aizawa highlighted the evacuation route data from the latter part of the exam, when a colossal, 0-point robot had appeared and begun crushing the city.
Dozens of blue dots—representing individuals who should have been in sheer panic—were moving in an almost perfectly synchronized formation toward the safest shelter, without a single misstep or collision. It was as if an unseen hand had drawn the optimal escape route for them, their movement mechanical in its precision.
"This phenomenon occurred only in Area B. Not one person was injured, and there wasn’t a single call for rescue. It was a flawless evacuation—a miracle that would be nearly impossible even with dozens of Pro Heroes on the scene."
Aizawa swiped across the screen and a high-resolution satellite image appeared. In the heart of a crumbling city, the close-up revealed the figure of a boy lying calmly. It was Marumine Tori.
"And while that miracle was unfolding, what were you doing? Were you busy staring at some 'interesting-looking cloud' or something?"
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