Time moved quickly.
In the last couple of months of the year, Mewtwo finally reached level 25.
Each new day made gaining significant experience harder; the threats he faced were still enough to push him forward, but the growth no longer came in great leaps. Even so, his pace remained absurdly fast—faster than any hero in training, and even faster than most pros.
That same year, the Yonkou—the strongest four students in U.A.—received a very particular summons.
They were called to the principal's office.
The four of them exchanged glances as they entered Nezu's spacious room, the familiar scent of tea and paperwork filling the air. They waited in silence, because if Nezu called them together—on the final day before summer recess, no less—then he had something big prepared.
And judging by the gleam in Nezu's eyes, it would be at least… interesting.
"Welcome, kids!" Nezu chirped, hopping onto his seat. "I have a small petition for the four of you. I've been thinking about adding something new this year."
That alone was enough to raise internal alarms in all four students.
Nezu's "new ideas" were rarely actually small.
"You see," the principal continued, tapping his paws together, "given the number of applicants this year, we'll be using four different simulated cities for the entrance exam. So I thought… why not give the new aspirants a goal—someone to look up to—right from day one?"
The four Yonkou looked at each other.
Oh no.
They could already tell where this was heading.
Nejire, unusually uncertain, raised a hand.
"Director Nezu… you don't want us to fight the new students, right?"
Her question was logical, even if she asked it in her usual cheerful tone.
They weren't arrogant—but they knew they were above the level of most licensed heroes. Fighting applicants? They would obliterate them.
Nezu burst out laughing.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! No, no! Not even I would be that cruel!"
The four didn't look convinced.
Nezu continued:
"We teachers will prepare the main exam—the standard one they must pass to enter U.A. But you…" He pointed a tiny paw at them. "I want the four of you to create a secondary exam. A personal challenge."
The Yonkou blinked.
Nezu clarified:
"Each of you will design a unique test for one of the four applicant groups. If a candidate passes your test, they will enter the Hero Course immediately."
Raiden stared at him.
"That sounds like… a hell of a responsibility."
Nezu grinned.
"Indeed it is! But that's the idea. You must design something simple—yet extremely difficult. Something even tougher than the principal exam."
He sipped his tea while smiling like the tiny sadist he was.
The three others exchanged a look.
Yes. Nezu was absolutely enjoying this.
Then Nejire tilted her head, thinking.
"Ne, ne… simple but difficult? Like… trying to tag Mirio?" she asked brightly.
The room fell silent.
Raiden stared.
Tamaki froze.
Mirio blinked at the sudden spotlight, looking both embarrassed and flattered.
Tamaki spoke first.
"W-wait, Nejire… if that is the test… no one is going to pass!"
Raiden nodded immediately.
Mirio scratched his cheek awkwardly.
Nezu threw his head back, laughing with childlike delight.
"That's the idea!"
---
From that point on, time began to move even faster.
During the first days, the four Yonkou focused entirely on the mission they had been assigned. Each of them crafted their own test—simple in concept yet brutally difficult in execution—and submitted the designs to Principal Nezu.
Nezu accepted every proposal with that unsettlingly delighted smile of his, and immediately began arranging the logistics to make the tests possible.
After that, the four settled into a new routine.
Even during the holidays, none of them stopped training. They knew exactly how important it was to maintain momentum—power was responsibility, and stagnation could cost lives someday. So, while the rest of their classmates relaxed or spent time with family, the Yonkou trained together almost every day.
And slowly, something changed.
Or rather… something grew.
The distance.
Among the boys especially, they began to notice it: the gap between them and the rest of Class 2-H grew wider and wider. They invited their classmates many times—open training sessions, sparring routines, even full-day practice matches—but no one came.
They joined for social gatherings, for food, for fun…
But never for training.
It wasn't hard to understand why.
The gap was simply too big now.
And gaps like that created insecurity.
It wasn't pleasant, but there was nothing they could do about it. Strength carried a weight that isolated just as much as it elevated.
Holiday after holiday slipped by, and the start of their third year came rushing toward them.
It was absurd—how could two years have passed so quickly?
Now there were only two left before graduating as Pro Heroes.
And when the break finally ended, the four Yonkou were—of course—the first to arrive.
At 6 a.m. sharp, they headed toward their assigned simulated cities, ready to supervise and execute their personal entrance tests.
Two hours later, the applicants began to arrive.
The first one to walk through U.A.'s front gate was a blond boy with spiky hair and a permanent expression that screamed fight me.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Katsuki Bakugo strutted forward with the confidence of someone who assumed the world already belonged to him.
A little behind him, moving with robotic stiffness, another boy walked toward the campus. His posture was straight to the point of rigidity, and his face was tightened with unyielding determination.
One by one, students from all over the country poured in, heading toward the large conference hall. By the time the clock approached 9:00 a.m., the room was packed wall to wall with hopeful faces, some tense, some excited, all of them clinging to a single dream: entering U.A.
Bakugo sat down with a grin bordering on arrogance.
And beside him, nervously gripping his notebook, was a green-haired boy: Izuku Midoriya.
Bakugo seemed ready to say something—his expression twisted into annoyance—when suddenly Present Mic burst onto the stage in an explosion of sound and enthusiasm.
"WELCOME TO MY SHOOOOOOW!"
Silence.
Total, absolute silence.
It didn't faze him.
"Everybody say HEEEEEEY!"
Silence again.
Present Mic shivered dramatically.
"Oooh—CHILLS! Literal chills! Tough crowd! Anyway, I'll give you the details of the test—ARE YOU READYYYY?!"
Silence.
But he kept going, undeterred.
---
"The first thing you must do is head to the designated simulated city assigned to you! Each one of you has been placed in one of FOUR special cities prepared for the exam!"
Present Mic's voice thundered across the hall, echoing off the walls.
"We've prepared villain robots throughout the terrain, divided into three categories. Each villain is worth between one and three points depending on its difficulty. Your job is to take them down using your Quirks! But don't even THINK about attacking other competitors— that's cheating and you'll be disqualified IMMEDIATELY!"
The moment he stopped speaking, a hand shot upward.
A boy stood up, voice sharp and annoyed.
"Excuse me, sir, but the flyer clearly states there are FOUR villain types. You only mentioned three. I believe a mistake of this magnitude should not occur at U.A., considering its prestige and imp—"
Present Mic cut him off before he could finish.
"About that! There IS a fourth villain type— but it gives ZERO points! It exists only to cause chaos! Hahahaha!"
Confusion swept through the room.
But Present Mic wasn't done.
"AND! Inside each mini-city, a third-year student is waiting for you! Each of them has prepared a SPECIAL test separate from the main exam! If you beat their test—or impress them enough—you will be accepted into U.A. immediately!"
The room erupted in whispers.
Present Mic raised a hand dramatically.
"But let me warn you! Their tests are MUCH harder than the main exam. What the test is? Depends on the student. Don't worry—you'll understand the moment you see it!"
He paused dramatically, then yelled:
"You have THIRTY minutes to prove yourselves! Now go to your designated AREAAAAA!"
He vanished from the stage as abruptly as he arrived, leaving hundreds of confused applicants rushing toward the exits.
---
Meanwhile, far from the noise and crowd, the Yonkou waited in their assigned areas.
Each of them had prepared their test, and each test was far more terrifying than anything the applicants imagined.
---
Mewtwo floated in silence.
Sitting cross-legged in midair, he hovered several meters above the street at the far end of his designated city. His eyes were closed, his posture perfectly calm, his tail gently swaying behind him like a pendulum.
Behind him stood a large metallic arch—something like a football goal but reinforced with steel plates and glowing edges.
Across the top, bold letters read:
GOAL
And on the street below, a thick painted line marked:
LIMIT – ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
But Mewtwo paid it no mind.
He remained floating in serene stillness, calm, meditative, as if the world around him didn't exist.
And then—
Beeeellll!
The alarm rang across the entire training ground.
The practical exam had begun.
Mewtwo opened his eyes.
The test—his test—was about to start.
Let's see… how should I handle this?
Should I use telekinesis from the start—search for them immediately—or simply trust my eyes?
…No. Using telekinesis right away would be a waste of energy.
Mewtwo reached a quiet conclusion.
"I'll keep a small detection field active only around the portal and a few meters in front of me… just in case someone with a sneaky Quirk tries something."
With his plan set, he simply waited, floating silently before the metallic arc.
Ahead stretched a long alley connected to the main road.
At the distant starting line, a small podium carried the instructions for the applicants.
Mewtwo stayed motionless, eyes half-closed, tail lightly coiling and uncoiling.
After a couple of minutes, the first applicant appeared.
To Mewtwo's surprise, it was a familiar face—the blond boy from the incident the previous year.
The one with a permanent expression of too little patience.
Katsuki Bakugo stopped at the entrance of the alley, scowled, and clicked his tongue the moment he recognized the floating figure.
He remembered him clearly.
The "hero" who had healed him and deku back then.
A student who could fly and heal—useful, sure… but not exactly impressive to someone like Bakugo.
Certainly not someone he'd call strong.
Bakugo looked down at his hands and smirked.
This test?
He was going to crush it.
And he was going to be the first to pass.
He turned to the podium, skimmed the instructions, and snorted again.
Pass through the arc behind the upper-year student.
Use your Quirk as you wish.
"That's it?" he muttered, annoyed at how easy it sounded.
Without waiting another second, tiny sparks crackled across his palms—
—and with a sharp bang, a small explosion launched him forward down the alley.
He grinned mid-air.
Too easy.
The floating guy wasn't even reacting.
Or so he thought.
Bakugo landed in a crouch six meters ahead—farther than any normal human, yes, but far less than what he expected.
He should've flown much farther with that blast.
And when his boots hit the ground, a heavy weight pressed down on him.
Not enough to paralyze him.
But enough to make him grit his teeth.
Then he felt it—
A subtle push.
His body was being dragged backward… inch by inch… toward the starting line.
"What the—?"
For the first time, Katsuki Bakugo realized:
The floating upper-year hadn't even moved.
And yet he was already losing ground.
"just what the fuck is he doing?"