At the moment Bakugo finally collapsed, Mewtwo released the pressure around him and extended a hand. Life Dew washed over the boy's battered body in three soft waves—cool, shimmering water that mended bruises, sealed cuts, and stabilized his breath.
The kid had pushed himself far past what his body could handle.
Fractured bones.
Ragged breathing.
Blood loss.
A will so intense it bordered on self-destruction.
But in less than a minute, he was unconscious, healed, and—at least physically—completely restored.
Then Mewtwo turned toward the other one.
Kirishima was trembling violently, still conscious by sheer stubbornness, his hardened skin cracking like dry stone under the pressure.
Had he been a second- or third-year student, maybe his enhancement would have held.
But right now, his body simply couldn't withstand Mewtwo's weight.
He finally collapsed as well.
Mewtwo sighed, gently lifted the pressure, and healed him too.
Another Life Dew enveloped the red-haired boy, repairing the damage until only exhaustion remained.
Just then, a small drone floated to Mewtwo's side, its wings buzzing quietly before a familiar voice came through the speaker.
"So, what is your evaluation, young Raiden?"
Principal Nezu's voice was filled with curiosity—and a hint of mischief.
Mewtwo crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"Well… the blond one is rash. Too rash. Overconfident. He assumed he could overpower someone with real training. He underestimated the U.A level—and he underestimated me."
He paused, tail flicking once behind him.
"For what I sensed, he based his approach only on what he'd seen in the past. He saw me heal, and fly, so he assumed my Quirk was something simple—support-oriented. So he just charged forward.
And even after realizing brute force wasn't working, he refused to try another strategy. He kept repeating the same move, expecting a different result."
Nezu let out a bright, delighted laugh.
"Ahahahaha! Quite right, young Raiden. But remember—this isn't a villain analysis. A proper test also requires that you look for potential."
Mewtwo nodded slowly.
"Well, in that case… his Quirk is strong. And under pressure, it evolves—his explosions grew stronger the more cornered he felt. His body is clearly above the average. And his determination?"
He glanced toward the unconscious Bakugo.
"That kid endured the equivalent of a small car pressing down on him before fainting. His will is… impressive."
"Good, very good," replied Nezu. "Now, taking all that into account… he ended with zero points in the main exam. What shall we do with him?"
Mewtwo blinked.
"I get to decide?"
Nezu chuckled through the drone.
"Of course. It is your test."
Mewtwo turned back toward the two unconscious boys lying on the pavement.
He took a moment to consider it, then nodded once.
"I see."
With a flick of his fingers, telekinesis wrapped around Bakugo and Kirishima, lifting them gently off the ground.
Both boys floated forward, crossing the goal line with silent ease.
Mewtwo lowered them carefully on the other side.
"They pass."
---
"Excellent decision," exclaimed Nezu through the drone, clearly delighted.
He was just about to end the call when Mewtwo suddenly spoke again.
"She didn't pass immediately, but… is it possible to assign points to her? The invisible girl. She fooled me twice, and she almost cleared the test." Mewtwo said calmly.
"As I said, this is your test," replied Nezu, amused.
"In that case—twenty-five points for the invisible girl," Mewtwo stated, ending the call.
Nezu's faint laugh of satisfaction echoed from the drone before it flew away.
Mewtwo returned to his floating position, arms crossed, tail swaying lazily.
More students approached… and one by one, they surrendered within a few meters.
No one pushed themselves like Bakugo or Kirishima.
None reached a threshold worth rewarding.
So Mewtwo simply watched. And waited.
He wasn't the only Yonkou delivering a trial that day.
Meanwhile, in another simulated city…
Mirio strolled through the streets casually—hands behind his head, humming, moving without hurry.
Unlike Mewtwo's stationary test, Mirio's trial covered the entire city.
Every applicant who stepped into this particular zone saw it immediately:
A massive picture of Mirio posted on a billboard, smiling brightly.
Beneath it, a message:
"If you touch this student, you pass immediately."
The reaction was immediate:
Panic. Determination. Screaming.
And then everyone sprinted out to find him.
They spotted him quickly—Mirio walking right down the main avenue, whistling.
Tenya Iida, the rigid boy who had complained earlier during Present Mic's explanation, was the first to reach him.
He activated his Engine quirk, shooting forward like a missile.
He extended his hand—ready to grab Mirio's shoulder.
But instead of grabbing anything—
—he passed straight through him and planted his face into the pavement behind.
Iida froze on the ground, stunned.
Slowly, he turned and stared at Mirio, who kept walking without even glancing his way.
Multiple other students tried immediately—leaping, punching, diving, swiping.
The result was identical each time.
Their hands went through him like he was made of air.
Like trying to grab an illusion.
Like he wasn't there at all.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Nobody understood.
Iida tried again.
And again.
And again.
He ran, jumped, even coordinated with other students.
Nothing.
Mirio simply continued his stroll with a serene smile as if walking through a gentle breeze.
"Amazing…" Iida whispered, his eyes wide.
"So that's why they said this test was even harder… We're not ready for this. He's strong—too strong. And he isn't even counterattacking…"
As he spoke, a distant student fired a beam of light straight at Mirio.
The attack hit…
and went through him as if Mirio were a ghostly projection.
No reaction.
No damage.
Not even a shift in his smile.
Slowly, one student after another gave up and ran toward the principal robot exam.
There was no point wasting time.
Even Iida, proud and determined, eventually bowed his head and left—though not without glancing back one last time.
He would return.
He had to.
He wasn't the type to give up easily.
The rest of the exam continued as usual; the other applicants spread out through the city toward the standard test.
Robots fell, points were gathered, and chaos filled every street.
But no one touched Mirio.
Many simply ignored him entirely—if he stood in the path of an attack, they didn't even bother trying to hit him; they already understood it was pointless.
Still, a handful refused to accept defeat.
Tenya Iida foremost among them.
Rigid, disciplined, a believer in order above all—he simply refused to believe U.A would create an impossible trial.
His trust in the institution, paired with his stubborn mindset, convinced him that there must be a way.
He was wrong, of course.
But he didn't know Nezu.
He also wasn't alone.
Others were watching Mirio from afar, calculating, waiting for a moment.
One of them was a girl with long earlobes—Kyoka Jiro.
She stood behind a half-destroyed storefront, tapping her earjack tips against a sleek device strapped to her hip. The loudspeaker her father designed for her gleamed with polished steel.
She took a breath.
Okay… let's see if sound works.
Plugging her earjacks into the amplifier, Jiro rushed forward.
Mirio noticed her but didn't bother moving. He would simply activate his quirk at the right moment.
But the moment she fired—
BOOOOM—
A wave of sound blasted toward him.
It didn't hurt. It didn't damage him.
But it did make him lose balance for a fraction of a second—just a wobble, barely noticeable.
But to Jiro, that microsecond was everything.
She leaped, her hand outstretched.
Her fingers passed straight through his chest as if he were a hologram.
She stumbled through him and skidded across the pavement.
Mirio blinked.
Then he laughed, genuinely delighted.
"That was a really nice trick! Keep going—but don't forget to smash those bots, they're still spawning!"
Jiro, panting on one knee, gave him a frustrated glare.
But there was a spark of pride in her eyes.
Suddenly—
ZAP—ZAP—ZAP—ZAP!
A barrage of rapid-fire lasers shot at Mirio.
Not to hit him—of course not.
Just to blind him, block his vision, confuse his rhythm.
A distraction.
Because in the next second—
A boy in a karate gi leapt from behind a wrecked bus, delivering a flurry of punches at close range.
His strikes were fast, one after another, relentless.
Right after him, a high-speed kick streaked toward Mirio's head—Iida, using his engines to push his body beyond his usual limits.
Their plan was obvious:
Disorient him.
Break his timing.
Force him into a mistake.
And then more arrived.
A boy whose whole body gleamed like forged steel—Tetsutetsu.
His quirk reminded Mirio of the Naoaka brothers, two pros with metal-hardening abilities.
Seeing that evolution in a first-year was impressive.
And then came a girl with oversized hands—a dozen more students gathering behind her.
Mirio scanned the streets.
Robots were fewer now.
"Oh… so that's the case. They already earned enough points," he thought, smiling.
"They're coming for the shortcut. Smart."
He cracked his knuckles and kept walking, radiating cheer.
The crowd surged.
Dozens of quirks activated.
Dozens of hopeful applicants charged together.
And Mirio Togata—welcomed them with a grin.
At the same time, in Nejire's test, the sky itself had become her playground.
She flew around the buildings with effortless grace—twisting, spinning, weaving between rooftops like a ribbon carried by the wind.
Her trial was as simple as Mirio's in concept… but far more brutal in practice.
Catch her.
Or hit her.
Either counted.
And so far?
No one had even gotten close.
She danced through every attempt.
A boy with a dark, winged bird-like quirk launched himself upward with powerful strokes, soaring with surprising speed.
For a moment, Nejire's eyes widened.
He almost touched the edge of her energy trail.
Almost.
But a twist of her body and a burst of her spiraling energy sent her gliding upward just out of reach, leaving the bird-boy flapping in open air with a frustrated cry.
He was the closest anyone had come.
Others didn't even try.
Most competitors looked up at her—so high, so fast—and realized instantly that challenging Nejire Hado in the air was simply… unrealistic.
Unlike Mirio or Raiden, whose tests were on the ground and at least seemed possible, Nejire's demanded raw movement mastery in three dimensions.
Still, a few tried.
Someone with an electric quirk hurled bolts of lightning upward.
None came remotely close—his aim was terrible, and Nejire responded by simply tilting her body sideways and drifting around entire skyscrapers, not even breaking her rhythm.
Someone else tossed sticky balls at her.
She dodged them without effort, but when one hit a streetlight and made a faint wet squelch, she shivered.
"Eeew… okay nope nope nope—gross gross gross!"
She zipped half a block away instantly, refusing to get anywhere near that boy again.
But then—
Something interesting finally happened.
A girl with bright green hair stepped forward, eyes sharp with focus.
Beside her stood a pink-skinned girl, bouncing with enthusiasm.
Nejire hovered, curious.
"Oh? Teamwork?" she murmured with a delighted grin.
"Okay, show me what you got!"
The green-haired girl—Shiozaki Ibara—pressed her hands together in prayer… and her hair exploded into a forest of living vines.
They shot outward in every direction, anchoring themselves on balconies, lampposts, and broken rooftops, forming a vast web stretched across the city block.
Nejire blinked, genuinely impressed.
The pink girl—Ashido Mina—immediately took advantage.
She secreted a viscous fluid from her hands and feet and leapt onto the vine-web, sliding along its surface like a skater on rails.
She moved fast—shockingly fast—zigzagging between buildings, her acidic fluid glowing faintly on the vines as she gained momentum.
Mina reached a bend, raised both hands—
"Haah!"
—and launched multiple drops of her acid straight into Nejire's trajectory.
Nejire's eyes widened.
Those drops were small, scattered, erratic—exactly the kind of attack that forced real evasive skill.
"If even one hits my skin…" she thought, pumping more energy into her flight.
"I'll have to accept them. That's the rule."
So she moved.
Really moved.
Her spiral energy ignited around her, swirling like a comet's tail as she rotated her entire body sideways.
She dipped under two acidic drops, then rolled through the air in a corkscrew to avoid a third.
Mina attacked again—more drops fired in bursts as she slid along the vine circuits, adjusting angles with impressive awareness.
Meanwhile Ibara tightened her vine-web, closing in the airspace around Nejire, turning the block into a maze of living walls that forced Nejire into narrower and narrower passages.
For the first time all exam long, Nejire felt pressure.
"Oooh, tricky!" she giggled as she dodged another thread of vines.
"You're actually making me work!"
The two girls attacked in perfect synch:
-vines narrowing
-acid drops shooting
-Mina sprinting across the web like a blur
-Ibara reinforcing weak points to trap Nejire's possible paths.
It was coordinated.
Creative.
One of the best attempts she had seen all morning.
But Nejire was Nejire.
And the air was hers.
She flipped backward, shot straight between two converging vines with millimeters to spare, and rose sharply until she was above the highest thread of the makeshift web.
From there she let herself drop—twisting mid-fall—dodging two more droplets and brushing past the edge of a vine that grazed her uniform but not her skin.
After nearly three minutes of constant aerial maneuvering, the two girls finally ran out of steam.
Mina slipped off the last vine and landed on her feet, chest heaving.
Ibara could barely keep the vines solid; they shuddered from exhaustion.
Nejire floated above them, spinning cheerfully.
"That was amazing! You two got closer than anyone else!"
The girls smiled, panting, but they knew they hadn't touched her.
Nejire clapped.
"But… sorry! Still not enough~!"
And with that, the two finally surrendered—their teamwork impressive, but not enough to bring down the sky's fastest dancer.