Pressure.
The aura radiating from Aizawa pressed down on Tori like a physical weight. Aizawa wasn’t holding this as a simple student consultation—it was a Pro Hero interrogating a suspect.
"It was just good weather for a nap," Tori replied nonchalantly, his trademark faint smile lingering on his lips. His expression was a perfect poker face, with not even the smallest tremor in his eyes.
"And above all, I hate noisy things." Aizawa’s tone was laced with disbelief. "You hate noisy things? Even when a 0-point villain was demolishing the block right next door to your sleeping spot?"
Aizawa leaned forward, placing his hands firmly on the desk. His long hair swept forward, casting shadows over his stern features. "You’re free to hide your abilities all you want, but U.A. isn’t so lax as to leave potential threats unchecked. I need to see the true effect of your Quirk."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Principal Nezu, who had been quietly sipping his tea nearby, set his cup down and perked up with interest.
"...I understand," Tori finally answered, his voice cool and even as he sighed theatrically and raised both hands in a mock surrender.
"Since you insist, I’ll show you my Quirk." At these words, Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, caught between the thrill of finally catching a lead and the caution of what Tori might do next.
Tori slowly unclenched his fist. All eyes—Aizawa’s and Nezu’s—were fixed on his hand. Yet, there was nothing there.
The 100-yen coin he had been jingling just moments ago had vanished without a trace. There had been no sleight of hand to tuck it away, no sound of it dropping to the floor. It was as if its very existence had simply evaporated.
"This is my Quirk: Stage Magic," Tori said with a playful lilt, as though bragging to a preschooler. "As you saw, I make things appear and disappear."
With a sly smile, he slowly moved his empty hand behind Aizawa’s ear. Aizawa instinctively tried to recoil, but held his ground, his eyes fixed on the hand. "Was it here?"
Tori snapped his fingers lightly with a flick of his digits.
Clink—
From thin air, right behind Aizawa’s earlobe, a silver coin fell. It landed on the desk with a clear, ringing sound and spun momentarily, unmistakably the same 100-yen coin Tori had been toying with earlier. It was the perfect flourish of a magician.
"Simple," Tori explained. "I send any small object that touches my hand into another space—a sort of sub-space storage—and then bring it back. It’s a bit like magicians hiding pigeons in their sleeves, but I suppose not needing sleeves is a plus." He pressed his index finger against the spinning coin, bringing it to a halt.
"That’s it. Fighting? Not a chance. Breaking robots with this? Sure, if I were All Might or could launch a 100-yen coin like a railgun to pierce robot armor, maybe. But really, I’m just a high schooler with above-average dexterity."
Aizawa picked up the coin, feeling the chill of its metal. It was completely ordinary. Squinting, he glared at Tori. "So it’s an Inventory-type Quirk… definitely not fit for combat."
Muttering under his breath about how an ability that merely hides and retrieves objects was more suited to street performers or pickpockets than heroes, he continued, "But even so, that doesn’t explain what happened during the entrance exam."
Raising his head, Aizawa fixed Tori with a piercing stare—a look that recalled the miracle of evacuating dozens of civilians without a single injury, all supposedly thanks to a simple coin trick. It made no sense.
"That’s right," Tori replied, a slight shrug accompanying his cool tone. "I told you—I don’t really know either. I just got lucky."
Tori’s eyes were deep and still like a quiet lake. There was no sign of a nervous twitch or any subconscious tell typical of someone who’s lying. His face was the very picture of mechanical perfection.
"...You really think I’m a fool," Aizawa seethed, his patience snapping.
Whoosh!
Aizawa’s hair seemed to defy gravity as it stood on end, and the bandages around his neck twisted like venomous snakes. His bloodshot eyes flashed with a ferocity that threatened to erase Tori from existence. Then, his Quirk—Erasure—activated.
It wasn’t just a menacing glance. It was an overwhelming, paralyzing pressure, the culmination of countless real-world battles as a hero. The very air in the principal’s office grew as heavy as lead, making each breath a struggle.
"Last chance, Marumine," Aizawa growled lowly. "Show me what you’ve got. Otherwise, you won’t have a place in this school. A seat for an aspiring hero isn’t a toy for someone who spins tales."
His grip on the desk tightened until his knuckles blanched white. "I can expel you right now. And I’m not bluffing."
It was an unmistakable ultimatum.
Principal Nezu, ever the enigma, set his teacup down and rested his chin on his hand with an intrigued look. It was rare to see Aizawa so emotionally charged in disciplining a student. 'I wonder how this boy will react,' Nezu mused silently.
Yet, there wasn’t the slightest trace of panic on Tori’s face. Where one might expect fear, tension, or guilt, all that was visible was his habitual lazy, almost arrogant smile, as if Aizawa’s menacing glare was as inconsequential as a light spring breeze.
Tori continued to scrutinize the coin in his hand, idly rubbing its edge with his thumb. "Hmm... Scary, really scary. You almost look like a villain, sir," he remarked, his tone devoid of any provocation or defiance as he met Aizawa’s piercing red gaze. His eyes, however, conveyed only a deep boredom—as if everything in the world were just a nuisance.
"But what can I do? This is really all there is. Even if I wanted to show more, there’s simply nothing else to reveal." His voice was steady, as natural and indisputable as saying the Earth is round.
Aizawa bit his lip, frowning. Stage Magic—perhaps Tori’s brazen nonchalance was merely a secondary effect of his Quirk. 'This kid... he remains completely unmoved,' Aizawa thought.
It wasn’t just that Aizawa’s Erasure erased Quirks; it also imposed an intense psychological pressure. Naturally so, considering it was a Quirk that most people manifested almost immediately after birth. And yet, Tori remained as serene as ever—a level of composure born not of training, but of some inexplicable, inherent detachment.
At that moment, Principal Nezu clapped twice.
Clap, clap.
"Ahaha! That’s enough, enough already, Aizawa," Nezu interjected with a light laugh. The red intensity in Aizawa’s eyes gradually softened, and the defiant spike of his hair settled back into place.
"When a student speaks out like that, isn’t it our duty as educators to trust him? Besides, class is about to start. We wouldn’t want the homeroom teacher to end up with a tardy, would we?"
Nezu casually lifted his teacup. "Off you go, Marumine. Your friends are waiting."
"Yes, then. Excuse me," Tori said. With that, he sprang to his feet, bowed lightly to both Nezu and Aizawa, and left the principal’s office without a backward glance. His steps were as light and buoyant as when he had entered.
Once the door closed, silence reclaimed the office. Aizawa let out a deep sigh before slumping onto the sofa.
"Principal, why did you hold back? If I had pressed him just a bit more..."
"You know as well as I do, Aizawa. You lost," Nezu replied firmly, shaking his head.
"He didn’t even flinch in the face of your killing intent. He’s no ordinary kid," Nezu added, a mischievous expression on his face as though he were thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
"Stage Magic... Hahaha! I don’t know exactly what kind of ability it is, but I absolutely love that name. A magician on stage never explains his tricks; all the audience can do is be fooled and enjoy the show."
"...This isn’t the time to be enjoying things. If he’s one of those dangerous elements—" Aizawa began, but Nezu interrupted.
"We’ll see soon enough. The magic show has only just begun," Nezu declared, glancing out the window at Tori’s receding figure. 'He’s definitely hiding something. Whether it’s a dangerous secret or nothing more than a trivial trick, All Might’s class will soon decide.'
"You’re late, Marumine!"
As soon as the classroom door swung open, Iida Tenya’s shout rang out. "Morning assembly starts in three minutes! You may be safe for now, but if you’re not acting like a student, well...!"
"Yeah, yeah, got it. My ears will never forgive you," Tori muttered, rubbing his ear as he made his way to his seat. All eyes from his classmates were on him—eyes full of curiosity, wondering, 'He got called into the principal’s office and came back unscathed?'
"Oi," someone called out as he was about to sit down. From the adjacent row came the low drawl of Bakugo. Sitting with his chin propped on his hand, Bakugo’s predatory gaze swept over Tori like a huntress eyeing her prey.
"You didn’t get expelled? Persistent little bastard," Bakugo sneered.
"Who knows? The principal was busy bragging about how amazing the tea was," Tori replied with a cocky grin.
Bakugo’s brow furrowed deeply at the retort. "Hmph. Whatever. It doesn’t matter—I'll just crush you in afternoon training anyway."
Bakugo’s words came with a sinister smile as he flicked tiny sparks from his hand. "Battle training time. So, are you excited?"
Hearing Bakugo’s challenge, Tori let out an exasperated internal groan. 'Just give me a break... All I want is to hide in the corner,' he thought.
Finally, the moment Bakugo had been eagerly anticipating—and one that Tori secretly hoped would never come—arrived.
"I am... coming through the door like a normal person!!!"
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