The Hero Association headquarters was massive—gleaming steel and glass, security everywhere. Yoshino and Genos stood in line among hundreds of hopeful applicants. Different backgrounds—martial artists, ex-military, martial arts prodigies, even a few weirdos. The air buzzed with nervous energy and ego.
A stern woman in a suit approached with clipboards. "First phase—physical exam."
The woman tapped her clipboard. "Side-to-side jumps. 30 seconds. Maximum effort."
The woman clicked her stopwatch. "Start."
Applicants immediately moved—some agile, some clumsy. Yoshino moved with deliberate precision, jumping side-to-side effortlessly. Genos, meanwhile, handled it perfectly—his mechanical joints working flawlessly. A few applicants struggled to keep up, sweating and panting heavily.
The woman glanced down at her clipboard, recording scores.
The second phase was a 1500m run. Applicants started at the line, sprinting forward. Most pushed their limits—breathing heavily, muscles straining. Some even collapsed halfway, unable to finish the distance. Yoshino ran with a calm pace, his endurance limitless. Genos maintained a steady speed, his mechanical body performing optimally.The second phase was a 1500m run. Applicants started at the line, sprinting forward. Most pushed their limits—breathing heavily, muscles straining. Some even collapsed halfway, unable to finish the distance. Yoshino ran with a calm pace, his endurance limitless. Genos maintained a steady speed, his mechanical body performing optimally.
Yoshino crossed the finish line first—clocking an impressive 4 minutes and 30 seconds. The crowd murmured appreciatively; Genos followed closely behind at 4 minutes and 45 seconds. The woman with the clipboard scribbled down Yoshino's time, looking impressed despite her stern expression. "Next phase—strength test."
The weightlifting station featured progressively heavier barbells—the heaviest topped out at 500kg. One by one, applicants struggled—some barely managed 100kg, the strongest pushing 250kg before collapsing. Yoshino stepped up, casually lifting the 500kg barbell with one hand, completely unbothered. The room went silent.
The shotput was next—applicants lined up to throw the heavy metal ball within marked boundaries. Most applicants struggled to get anywhere beyond 15 meters. Yoshino stepped up, the woman checking her watch carefully.
Yoshino launched the ball—CRASH. It smashed into the far wall, embedding itself deep into the concrete. The woman stared at her stopwatch, blinking.
The next challenge was a bizarre "Whack-a-Mole" game—albeit one designed to test reflexes and precision. Metal moles popped up rapidly from holes, each with a different speed and pattern. Most applicants struggled, hitting only a few before the timer expired. Yoshino moved with calm, deliberate precision—hitting every single mole with a perfect strike.
The jumping test station had vertical markings on the wall, designed to measure maximum height. Applicants hopped—barely clearing 50cm, some reaching 1 meter. The highest amateur hit 1.5 meters. Yoshino stepped up, crouched low, and suddenly shot upward—CRACK. His head connected with the ceiling before he gracefully landed.
The woman stared at him.
The final challenge—a heavy-duty punching machine designed to withstand superhuman impacts. Most applicants struggled to hit 200, the strongest reaching 500. Yoshino stepped up, winding back his fist. The impact was deafening—CRASH. The entire machine lifted off its base, hurtling through the wall and into the street outside.
The room fell dead silent.
The mental test—the "Wheel Test"—presented a complex array of questions designed to filter out impulsive idiots. Logic puzzles, advanced mathematics, psychological scenarios, strategy problems. It was notoriously difficult—even Saitama had struggled with this, failing to grasp the depth required. Yoshino sat comfortably, his enhanced intelligence processing questions effortlessly.
He leaned back, thinking—*Majority, right?*
The woman called Yoshino's name, her expression unreadable. "Your physical scores are... unprecedented. However, the mental test results are being reviewed."
Yoshino remained calm. He had answered all questions correctly—his enhanced intelligence ensuring perfect recall and logical processing. But the Hero Association had standards. They needed heroes who could think, not just smash.
An hour later—the results were posted on a massive digital screen. Candidates gathered around, nervously checking their rankings.
Yoshino's physical scores were off the charts—breaking records in every category. But the mental test results were surprisingly... average. Not bad, but not perfect either. His enhanced intelligence had given him the majority, but some trick questions had tripped him up.
Yoshino scanned the digital board before opening the envelope. B Class.
He wasn't surprised. Physical scores that broke records, but mental scores that were merely average—the Hero Association needed mental acuity in its top-ranking heroes. S Class required a perfect mental score—almost impossible. A-Class was reserved for those with exceptional mental scores and superhuman physicality.
But B Class?
B Class. Yoshino pinched the bridge of his nose. He had literally smashed a punching machine through a wall, broken every physical record, and still got placed in B Class because of a mental test. He knew exactly how the Hero Association worked—S Class was reserved for the elite, A Class for the exceptional, B Class for the "competent."
Yoshino leaned against the wall, mentally noting that B Class didn't require the weekly criminal capture assignment—unlike C Class, who had to prove their worth constantly to maintain their rank. The paperwork and mandatory patrol hours were still annoying, but at least he didn't have to hunt down petty criminals every week.
Genos approached, glancing at the rankings board.
Genos frowned at the rankings. "Master Yoshino—B Class? Your physical scores were record-breaking. Why aren't you A Class?"
He clearly didn't understand how the Hero Association functioned—how they used mental scores to gatekeep the higher ranks.
Yoshino just sighed. "It's fine, Genos. B Class means no weekly criminal assignments."
"by the way, what did you get?" he said.
Genos stared at his own results. He scanned the screen before turning back. "S Class—Rank 17. Ranked based on my combat data and potential."
Yoshino blinked. S Class. The top. The elite. While he—the man who smashed machines through walls and broke every physical record—was relegated to B Class.
Genos' robotic eyes flickered.
Genos tilted his head, confused. "Master Yoshino—your physical scores were significantly higher than mine. Yet I was placed in S Class while you are in B. Why?"
Yoshino glanced at the screen, amusement hidden beneath his calm exterior. "The Hero Association weighs mental scores heavily, Genos. S Class candidates need exceptional mental acuity, not just brute force.that and they probably found what you did to the house of evolution base you blew up an entire mountain range."
Genos' eyes widened slightly as Yoshino reminded him of the House of Evolution base destruction. The Association had definitely taken that into account when assigning him S Class—blowing up an entire mountain range was no small feat. They clearly valued his destructive potential and combat data.
Genos nodded slowly, processing the information. "I see. The Association takes destructive capacity into account. I suppose destroying an entire mountain range demonstrates considerable combat potential."
He looked at the rankings again. Yoshino in B Class. Genos in S Class. The discrepancy was glaring—physical strength versus destructive capacity. The Association's logic seemed flawed, but he'd seen enough.