The sun was beginning its descent, painting the city in warm golden hues as I stepped out of the U.A. examination site. The once-rowdy battlefield lay quiet now, shadows stretching long across the ruined concrete where machines had been turned to scrap by my hands. I took a moment to adjust the sleeves of my black riding jacket, my breath fogging slightly in the cool late afternoon air.
My bike, a sleek, custom-built machine, waited near the curb. Swinging my leg over it, I reached for the helmet slung over the handlebar, a dark, polished shell etched with silver circuit tracings. I had built it myself, embedding an internal display synced to my comms, city maps, and diagnostic scans.
Sliding it on, the interface lit up across the visor with deep-blue holographics. With a subtle tap at my temple, the HUD flickered.
Incoming call [Momo Yaoyorozu]
"Initiate call," I said calmly.
A soft beep, then the line connected.
"Elijah?" Momo's voice came through clearly. "How did it go?"
I smirked beneath the visor. "What's there to ask? I obviously crushed it."
There was a pause, then a laugh, light, relieved. "Congratulations! I didn't doubt it for a second. You're incredible."
"I suppose we'll be seeing each other soon… as classmates."
There was happiness in her tone. "I hope so."
"Of course," I replied, already revving the engine. "See you at U.A."
The call ended with a soft beep. Leaning forward, I shot forward into the city's glowing dusk, the hum of power quiet beneath me.
The manor stood like a citadel at the edge of the private district, grand and monolithic beneath the darkening sky. As I approached, the gates opened in practiced silence, the path ahead lit by elegant lanterns.
Waiting by the front entrance, hands neatly folded behind his back, was Sebastian Cromwell.
"Welcome back, Master Elijah," Sebastian greeted with a rare smile as I dismounted. "Unofficial as the results may be, I believe congratulations are in order."
I smirked, handing him my helmet. "Thanks, Sebastian. I appreciate it."
Inside, the manor was warm and quiet, the soft hum of distant music playing through unseen speakers. I walked the polished marble halls, my footsteps echoing faintly beneath the chandelier-lit ceiling until I reached the familiar dark-oak doors of my mother's study.
I knocked once.
"Enter."
Evelyn Darkheart stood behind her imposing mahogany desk, eyes like sharpened ice glancing up from the sleek tablet in her gloved hands. She wore her usual high-collared black blazer, tailored to perfection, her hair pulled back into a tight coiled bun, an embodiment of precision and control. Behind her, the room glowed softly in amber lamplight, casting long shadows across shelves of ancient books and priceless artifacts.
Her gaze was unreadable.
"How did it go?" she asked, composed but curious.
I stepped forward, undoing the top button of my jacket. "Just as I expected. I crushed the other examinees. Most of them probably haven't trained a day in their lives, let alone learned real combat. It wasn't much of a challenge."
A flicker of pride crossed her features, subtle, but there.
"I didn't expect anything less from you."
She set the tablet aside and walked around the desk with slow, measured steps. Then, without a word, she embraced me. It was rare, for someone like her, who ruled boardrooms and empires, but it was real. She held me close, her voice a whisper, delicate and warm in my ear.
"I am so proud of you… of who you are, and who you will become."
I returned the embrace, closing my eyes briefly.
"I know. And… thank you, Mom."
The moment lingered, quiet and sincere, before we stepped apart.
"Come," she said, regaining her usual poise. "The chefs have prepared something special. Let's not let it go cold."
Together, we descended the grand staircase, passing tall stained-glass windows that caught the dying light of day. The dining room doors opened to reveal a long table laden with silver platters and warm dishes, the finest cuts, delicately arranged sides, and handcrafted desserts, all prepared in celebration.
Sebastian stood nearby, already holding a bottle of vintage wine, giving me the smallest nod.
Tonight, we celebrated.
A new day had begun, marking the official start of my journey at U.A. High.
I was already up, fresh from the shower, drying myself as soft sunlight filtered through the tall bathroom windows. The mirror was still fogged as I slipped into the neatly pressed U.A. uniform, navy blazer, white shirt, red tie. It felt oddly formal but fitting for a school that prided itself on shaping future heroes.
It had been five weeks since the Entrance Exam. Four weeks ago, I received my official admission letter embossed with the U.A. seal informing me I'd scored first place overall. Not that I expected anything less.
Descending the marble staircase, I made my way to the dining room. Sebastian was already there, impeccably dressed, preparing breakfast with clinical precision.
"Good morning, Master Elijah," he greeted with a respectful bow as he placed a cup of steaming tea beside my plate.
"Good morning," I replied, settling in for a quiet, efficient breakfast.
After finishing the last bite of buttered toast and sipping the final drop of tea, I rose, grabbing my school bag and helmet on the way out. The morning sun greeted me as I stepped into the courtyard, where my matte-black motorcycle gleamed, its polished frame reflecting the light like obsidian.
As I mounted the bike and adjusted my helmet, Sebastian stood by the front steps, hands behind his back.
"Good luck, Master Elijah."
"I don't need luck," I said with a smirk.
With that, I revved the engine and took off down the long driveway. The gates of the Darkheart estate opened silently before me. I sped through the clean streets of Musutafu, the city alive and buzzing with morning activity.
My destination: U.A. High School, the academy where heroes are made.
Arriving at U.A., I pulled into the parking lot and brought my motorcycle to a smooth stop. The engine purred low before I shut it off. The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise.
I removed my helmet, letting the crisp morning air brush my face, and took a long look at the towering structure ahead.
This was it.
The beginning of the next chapter.
I could feel itythe simmering energy beneath my skin, like lightning bottled inside a storm. The Nomu. All for One. The future was a battlefield, and I yearned for a real fight.
With steady steps, I walked the quiet halls of U.A., polished floors reflecting my silhouette as I passed. My hand reached for the door labeled Class 1-A.
I paused.
This wasn't nerves. It was anticipation. A controlled fire burning in my chest, fueled by the trials ahead.
Opening the door, I stepped inside.
The classroom was quiet.
The only sound came from Momo, sitting near the front, flipping the page of a thick leather-bound book. Her eyes were fixed on the text, but I noticed a subtle twitch of her fingers against the cover, betraying nerves she would never voice aloud.
A few seats behind her, Fumikage Tokoyami sat in solemn stillness, eyes closed as if deep in meditation. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of his shoulders with each measured breath.
Not far from him, Tsuyu Asui sat perched at her desk, lazily drumming her fingers against the surface. Her large, unblinking eyes wandered across the room, flicking with idle curiosity—until they settled on me.
She was the only one who noticed my quiet entrance.
I moved silently across the polished floor toward Momo. With practiced stealth, I leaned down beside her ear and whispered softly:
"Boo."
The reaction was instant.
Momo yelped, her book launching from her hands like a startled dove. She practically jumped from her seat, wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
I couldn't help it, I laughed hard.
A deep, full-bellied laugh echoed in the quiet classroom, my sides aching from the force of it. Even Tokoyami opened one eye, roused from his trance by the outburst.
Momo blinked rapidly, then narrowed her eyes.
"Elijah," she muttered, voice half-scolding, half-flustered. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
I grinned.
"Consider it your first combat training of the day."
Tsuyu raised a hand lazily.
"Ribbit. That was mean," she said, though I caught a slight curve of a smile.
Momo sighed, straightening her uniform and retrieving her book from the floor.
"You're impossible."
"Only on weekdays," I replied, still smiling as I took my seat beside her.
Momo shot me one last scolding look, the kind that tried to appear stern but couldn't hide the twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips.
She shook her head softly and turned her attention back to the text, no doubt trying to bury her embarrassment beneath academic focus.
I leaned back slightly, eyes wandering toward the large windows.
The room settled into a comfortable silence.
Momo resumed reading, Tokoyami returned to his stillness, and Tsuyu blinked slowly, head propped on her hand.
Minutes passed.
Then the door opened again, this time with a theatrical flair. Footsteps echoed with confidence, precise and purposeful.
A boy with neatly combed dark-blue hair and rectangular glasses entered. His posture was stiff, almost military-like, and his uniform was perfectly pressed.
"Hello, everyone!" he declared, standing tall at the entrance. "My name is Tenya Iida! It is a pleasure to meet you all!"
The sheer formality of his tone contrasted with the relaxed air in the room, pulling attention. Even Momo looked up with mild surprise.
I watched with amusement, chin resting on my hand. He stood like someone who'd studied introductions from a textbook written fifty years ago. Still, there was sincerity in his eyes. Beneath all that structure… a strong sense of justice.
Standing up gracefully, Momo closed her book and offered a small, respectful bow.
"Good morning. My name is Momo Yaoyorozu. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said calmly but with quiet strength.
Tsuyu followed a beat later, lifting a hand in a lazy wave.
"Hi, I'm Tsuyu Asui. Nice to meet you. Ribbit."
Tokoyami, still seated and barely shifting posture, inclined his head.
"Tokoyami. A pleasure."
Then, all eyes turned to me.
I sighed softly, more for show than anything, then stood with a slight stretch before slipping on my polished smile, perfected through countless galas and meetings I'd long grown bored of.
"Elijah Darkheart," I said smoothly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."
A heartbeat later, the door slammed open again.
Two students strode in.
Mina Ashido led the way, her bright pink hair bouncing with each step. Without missing a beat, she threw up a hand in greeting.
"Hey, everyone! I'm Mina Ashido. Nice to meet you all!"
Right behind her, Denki Kaminari smirked confidently.
"Denki Kaminari. How's it going?"
The room buzzed with fresh energy as introductions began anew. Before I could say anything, the door slammed open once more, and a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chatter.
"Out of the way, you extras!"
The spiky-haired blond stormed in, Katsuki Bakugo.
Without hesitation, he dropped into a random seat and kicked his feet up on the desk, shooting a fierce glare at everyone.
Iida reacted instantly, posture rigid with indignation.
"That is highly disrespectful! We must honor those who came before us—"
I tuned out their heated argument, letting their bickering fill the room while I observed quietly.
Mina quickly gravitated toward Momo and Tsuyu, roping them into lively discussion filled with laughter and lighthearted giggles. Denki's gaze landed on me for a moment but, sensing my intimidating presence and the annoyed look I shot Bakugo and Iida, he quickly turned his attention back to Tokoyami.
Minutes passed, more students filtered in, and the room soon buzzed with conversation. Groups naturally began to form, some excited, others awkwardly quiet. I leaned back in my seat, arms crossed, quietly observing the shifting dynamics.
That's when I caught movement near the door.
A yellow caterpillar.
No, Shota Aizawa.
He shuffled inside, still wrapped in a ratty sleeping bag, dragging himself across the floor like some exhausted cryptid. My brow arched.
Midoriya and Uraraka looked visibly confused, exchanging uncertain glances as the man slowly unzipped the cocoon. He emerged with disheveled black hair and half-lidded eyes that seemed to judge the entire room in a single glance.
"If you're here to socialize, then get out," he said flatly, retrieving a juice box from his sleeve like some deadpan magician.
Silence dropped like a stone.
He took a long, slow sip, letting the quiet stretch.
"This is the hero course," he continued, tone dry as dust. "It took you eight seconds to shut up. Time is a precious resource."
A few of the students squirmed. Some whispered. All eyes were locked on him.
"You lot aren't very rational, are you?"
No one responded.
He blinked once twice then stood up and dusted himself off, the sleeping bag crumpling to the floor like an afterthought. His voice remained perfectly calm, perfectly unbothered.
"I am your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Pleased to meet you."
No smile. No warmth. Just facts.
Then he pointed toward the locker rooms without fanfare.
"Get changed into your gym uniforms and meet me outside. We're going to see what you're really made of."
The room hesitated for a moment.
Then everyone moved.
And just like that, the real test began.