The massive robot, wedged between buildings and rising defiantly through a narrow gap, exuded an imposing aura.
Every step of that multi‐ton machine shattered the concrete beneath it, and its sweeping gestures felled forests of rebar and concrete as effortlessly as crushing tofu.
Its glowing red eyes, scanning for prey, seemed determined to miss nothing.
The raw violence of that colossal mass, now intruding on the exam grounds, felt utterly absurd for examinees who hadn’t even enrolled in the Hero Course yet.
“It’s all just bluster. That thing’s nothing more than a super‐obese lump that can barely keep itself upright.”
Kirishima snorted derisively at the remark.
That oversized, seemingly useless robot was nothing more than an easy target.
If anyone had developed such a flawed contraption and dared to call it a weapon, they would have been fired without hesitation.
In days long past, when hatred begot only more hatred and human lives were valued less than insects, there was an era when human malice swelled to monstrous proportions in its quest for mutual destruction.
Had one dared to present such an ill‐conceived contraption to the incarnations of violence that defined that time, it would have served as nothing more than a convenient target.
And needless to say, the same went for those steel beasts that once roamed battlefields as symbols of carnage and omens of despair.
Kirishima’s fists, blazing with fiery intensity, were by no means inferior to the fangs of a tank—once a rampaging beast that spat fire and roared like clanging bells.
In fact, while that monstrous machine had to pause for breath after each burst, Kirishima’s fists—unleashed dozens of times per second—were the very embodiment of calamity and retribution.
“There might be no point, but it’s such an eyesore that I feel compelled to smash it. Someone’s bound to get hurt because of that thing.”
The moment his words faded, Kirishima powerful kicked the ground.
If his opponent was nothing more than this defective product, there was no need for any fancy new technique.
In a flash, his body entered the realm of pure speed and positioned itself beneath the robot’s feet, outpacing human perception.
A sudden, jarring deceleration forced his weight onto his front leg, and the cement floor splintered under the pressure.
The energy that might have thrown him backward twisted through his waist, coursed over his shoulder, and erupted from his outstretched fist.
With a deafening boom, Kirishima’s punch struck the robot’s foot.
The mangled foot was torn away, leaving the machine with nothing below the ankle.
As the contraption lost its balance and toppled sideways, Kirishima grinned, baring his teeth like fangs.
“So, farewell. I hope that in your next life, you’re born not as a pathetic robot but as something worth fighting for.”
Like cannon fire, his fists rained down relentlessly, each strike shattering the moment.
When the thunderous impacts finally subsided amidst swirling dust, the machine was no longer a robot.
It had been reduced to nothing more than a heap of scrap metal.
Kirishima whistled at the sight of what had once been a robot.
“Whew. Not particularly practical, but still impressive. To think they’ve stationed one of these at every exam site—you’ve got to wonder about their budget.”
“What on earth is that?”
“Is that a person?”
While other examinees murmured at the sight, Kirishima paid them no mind.
Being the subject of such attention was nothing new to him—a condition he’d been accustomed to since his previous life.
After all, if he was destined to become stronger than everyone else, such scrutiny would only grow more frequent.
The girl with vine-like hair covered her mouth as she watched him.
He seemed to shine, not because of the dazzling sun overhead, but because of the boy whose overwhelming strength had rescued her.
His large, powerful figure evoked the image of a shepherd arriving just in time to save a lamb.
“Ah... so strong…”
Just as she gathered herself to approach Kirishima, a distracted voice burst from the speaker, announcing the end of the exam.
“Alright! Time’s up! That’s it. Everyone, return to the entrance. Those with serious injuries can wait for treatment on site, and those with minor injuries should come to the entrance for care.”
The instant the announcement sounded, Kirishima strode toward the entrance without a hint of hesitation.
From behind his determined steps, the girl’s voice called out.
“Hey! Wait a minute!”
“Huh? Oh, you’re the girl from earlier, right? Are you hurt anywhere? I’m sorry—I should have checked on you first.”
“Oh, such kindness. No, more importantly, thank you. Thanks to you, I’m completely unharmed.”
“Haha. That’s a relief. And your Quirk was pretty spectacular, too—I got a great look at it.”
“That’s your line—oh, excuse me. I should have introduced myself first. I’m Shiozaki Ibara.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Kirishima Eijiro.”
The two then walked side by side.
“So, how did you score? And hey, why not drop the formalities? We’re about the same age, aren’t we?”
“I actually prefer speaking politely. As for points, I managed to snag quite a few—probably 46 points.”
“Really? Hmm, that should be enough to pass, I guess.”
“By the way, may I ask where you’re from, benefactor?”
Kirishima cocked his head at the question about his hometown, yet he answered nonetheless.
He considered it nothing more than an icebreaker.
It might not have been the most conventional topic for Japan, but given her formal manner, he figured she was simply a bit awkward in social situations.
After all, there were those like Midoriya who stumbled over their words when talking to girls—in comparison, she was perfectly composed.
“I’m from Chiba Prefecture,” she said.
“I see.”
When the conversation stalled, Kirishima tilted his head once more.
Wasn’t she meant to mention where she was from as well?
“And where are you from, Shiozaki?”
“Ah, I’m from Kanagawa.”
“Really? That’s pretty close—although not as close as Tokyo.”
After their chat, Kirishima learned that Shiozaki was a devout believer.
Perhaps that explained her frequent use of biblical expressions.
In retrospect, encountering such a person wasn’t entirely foreign to him.
In Japan, Christians were rare enough—and fervent believers, even more so—making her quite an uncommon sort.
After a short walk, the entrance finally came into view.
There, Kirishima noticed a child trudging toward the entrance with slumped shoulders.
Oddly, the child’s head resembled a cluster of grapes.
Though his stature clearly marked him as a kid, the fact that he was taking the exam suggested he was of similar age to the others.
Observing the forlorn look on his face—as if he’d fared poorly on the test—Kirishima clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Looks like a lot of people didn’t do well.”
“Well, it can’t be helped. With competition this fierce, it’s only natural for many to be dissatisfied with the results.”
“True enough. Still, I don’t think this exam is particularly fair.”
“Is it because the test subjects are robots?”
“Yeah. Mental-type Quirks are practically ruled out from the start, and those with weaker physical abilities are at a disadvantage.”
“That may be true, but you can’t please everyone.”
“I agree, yet I believe a more balanced test would be preferable. Honestly, if you aim to be a Hero, you should at least be able to take down a point-granting robot without relying on your Quirk. Still, even with that in mind, I suspect many worthy candidates might be overlooked.”
Shiozaki didn’t entirely disagree with Kirishima’s assessment, though she couldn’t fully sympathize.
Perhaps, as an examinee, she wasn’t eager to face even more competition.
After all, even in the current exam someone as formidable as Kirishima could dominate the point tally; if every Quirk were allowed to show its full strength, how many more competitors would emerge?
Before she knew it, the two had reached the bus and taken seats side by side.
Noticing that Shiozaki seemed full of questions but hesitant to speak up, Kirishima smiled.
This new friend, who might soon become a classmate, had an unconventional personality—but she wasn’t unpleasant by any means.
After spending ten years around Bakugo, Kirishima found almost every personality saintly; by his measure, she was definitely one of the good ones.
Kirishima continued chatting with her as he waited for the bus to depart.
She was the first new friend he had made at U.A.
*
“The practical exam results are out!”
In a dim room lit solely by monitors, people sat with their eyes fixed on the screens.
They discussed the exam results in calm, measured tones.
“It’s been ages since an examinee surpassed 100 points.”
“And he was actively hunting Villains for only about the first three minutes.”
“Whether it was out of consideration for his competitors or simply a loss of interest, it’s hard to say.”
The examinee they all referred to was, of course, Kirishima.
The monitor replayed footage of Kirishima moving at an incredible pace, demolishing robots wherever he went.
Even in slow motion, his form was barely discernible, prompting awed murmurs.
“And let’s not overlook the giant Villain.”
“Right. We’ve seen examinees confront giant Villains before, but it’s been a long time since I witnessed one being so effortlessly crushed.”
“He handled it as if it were just routine—completely at ease.”
“Ah, it was truly impressive.”
“His power, his speed—nothing was lacking. His judgment was sharp, and the way he singled out Villains without hesitation suggested a remarkable instinct. Honestly, based solely on combat ability, he’d be worthy of a Hero license right now.”
“And the fact that he rescued another examinee shows he isn’t self-serving.”
“In every respect, he was the standout performer in this exam.”
Amid the continuous praise for Kirishima, one voice steered the conversation elsewhere.
Left unchecked, the accolades for Kirishima might have stretched into eternity.
While there was no doubt about Kirishima’s prowess, fair judgment required discussing the other examinees rather than dwelling solely on the undisputed top scorer.
“Speaking of giant Villains, we mustn’t forget the examinee who placed seventh.”
“Ah, yes. That boy was remarkable as well.”
“Seventh place with zero Villain points—though our grading might have been generous, it still seems absurd. Anyone else who heard it might have suspected favoritism.”
“He acted in a manner truly fit for a Hero, so such a reward was well-deserved.”
Midoriya’s footage then dominated the screen, showing him leaping at a giant robot and knocking it down with a punch.
At first, his brief retreat followed by an immediate turnaround only added to his charm.
“He clearly seemed intimidated by the giant Villain… and that’s exactly what makes his actions all the more meaningful.”
“Anyone can charge at an easy target.”
“Exactly. The hesitation I saw suggested that the possibility of failing the exam flitted through his mind. Still, by choosing to save someone, I believe his mindset crowned him as the true number one.”
“But breaking his arm with a single blow is a bit extreme.”
As someone observed Midoriya clutching his dangling arm while tumbling down, the comment was made.
Though Midoriya’s face was set in a determined, resolute expression, the scene betrayed a hint of instability.
“To suffer such a severe injury from his own recoil—he looks like a kid who’s just awakened his Quirk.”
“Still, his output was as impressive as that of the top performer, perhaps even surpassing it. I have high hopes for the day he masters his Quirk.”
“Alright. Let’s move on. Next up is the boy who clinched second place solely with Villain points, with not a single Rescue point to his name.”
Bakugo then appeared on the screen that had been showing Midoriya.
Bakugo’s adept demolition of robots presented a sharp contrast to Midoriya’s approach.
“That boy was impressive as well. Honestly, he didn’t seem like a typical middle schooler.”
“Except when compared to the top scorer.”
“Ah, that boy is an outright anomaly—we can’t really compare him. Even now, he’s practically a complete package, and it wouldn’t be fair to pit him against the examinees, or vice versa.”
“That’s true. Bakugo has excellent combat instincts. It was probably his first time using his Quirk directly in battle.”
“For a child raised in a normal Japanese environment, that milestone is bound to be a first.”
“His identity is well-established, so there’s no need to worry.”
After a brief mention of Kirishima, the conversation shifted back to Bakugo.
They marveled at how he corralled robots with explosive force and dispatched them with ease.
The way he quickly deciphered the robots’ targeting mechanism and coordinated his attacks left no doubt that he was far beyond the typical middle schooler.
After several rounds of praise for Bakugo, the discussion moved on to the next examinee.
The process of selecting the shining stars destined to light up the new era continued in the dim glow of the room.
*
After parting with Shiozaki, meeting the younger students for a meal, and returning home, Kirishima’s life remained largely unchanged.
As always, he trained and studied diligently, kept an eye on Ashido, and quietly assured Izuku—whose spirit was wavering—that success was within reach.
The only noticeable change was that he began to spend more time with his parents before they would soon be far away.
In the blink of an eye, a week passed, and a letter arrived at Kirishima’s home.
Taking the envelope marked “U.A.” from the doorstep, Kirishima brought it inside and opened it after dinner, with his parents gathered around.
“Greetings. I’m Nezu, the principal of U.A.”
A face—indistinguishable as either a mouse or a bear—popped out from a round device, startling his parents.
Only Kirishima, who already knew that exam results would be announced via hologram, regarded the scene with impassive eyes.
“As you might expect, Kirishima‐kun, your exam results were 108 Villain points and 15 Rescue points, placing you at the top.”
At Nezu’s announcement, Kirishima’s parents embraced each other in celebration.
They had always believed in his abilities, though a trace of anxiety lingered in their hearts.
But all such worries vanished in the wake of Kirishima’s triumph.
The son who had trained relentlessly from childhood—as if perpetually pursued—had finally reaped the rewards of his hard work.
Both his parents felt their hearts swell with unbidden tears of joy.
“I know you’re curious, since I haven’t explained everything: the exam awarded not only points for defeating Villains but also for rescuing people. The examiners evaluated each candidate’s actions and aggregated the scores accordingly.”
Maintaining his usual calm demeanor, Kirishima continued watching the screen as Nezu elaborated.
“Thus, your total score, Kirishima‐kun, came to 123 points—the second-highest score in history, surpassing even previous records.”
“Hmm. I suppose I could have taken down a few more…”
“We are truly delighted that such an outstanding talent as you has applied to U.A. Hopefully, next time we’ll have the chance to meet face to face on campus. In any case, congratulations—you have been accepted. Welcome to your Hero Academia.”
With those words, Nezu vanished.
Kirishima’s parents rushed forward and enveloped him in a warm embrace.
Seeing their tearful, smiling faces, he returned the embrace with equal joy.
A family that willingly shared both pain and joy was a treasure beyond measure.
The first step toward becoming a Hero felt as warming and comforting as a cup of coffee on a chilly winter day.
It was a moment destined to become legend—a humble beginning blossoming within a modest family home, interwoven with both tears and laughter.
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