U.A Entrance Exam

Izuku woke up earlier than usual, long before the sun even kissed the sky. His heart pounded with excitement and nerves—it was finally the day of the U.A. entrance exam.

He moved at a blur, using his super speed to wash up and get dressed in seconds, opting for a clean green tracksuit. Not flashy, but comfortable. Functional. Just like him.

He tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake his parents, poured himself a bowl of cereal, and ate in silence while the early morning light began pouring through the kitchen window. It was calm. Peaceful. Like the quiet before a storm.

When he finished eating, he headed out to the barn, where he fed the chickens and tended to the rest of the animals. It was a grounding routine, something familiar before the unknown. He lifted a bag of feed like it weighed nothing and cleaned the troughs in a blink. By the time the sun had properly risen, most of the morning chores were done.

Inko eventually stirred, yawning as she shuffled into the kitchen. She glanced at the sheet that listed Izuku's test time: 9:30 a.m. sharp. Then she looked at the clock.

9:00 a.m.

With a warm smile, she walked onto the porch and called out—not shouting, just speaking calmly.

"Izuku, sweetheart, it's time to get going."

She knew he could hear her from anywhere on the farm.

Sure enough, just moments later, Izuku appeared in a gust of wind, standing at the front steps with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"I'm already ready," he said with a grin. "Just passing time."

Inko chuckled and smoothed out his jacket. "Well, being early never hurt anyone. Better to be an hour early than a minute late."

Izuku nodded. "Right. Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," she said, kissing his cheek. "But you have it anyway."

With a gust of wind and a thunderous boom, Izuku launched into the sky, breaking the sound barrier as he streaked across the clouds like a comet. It only took him a few minutes to reach Musutafu City.

To avoid drawing attention, he touched down in a quiet alleyway a few blocks from the U.A. campus. He dusted himself off, adjusted his bag, and began walking toward the school like any other student.

Or so he thought.

As he stepped through the gates of U.A., the grandeur of the place nearly overwhelmed him. It was massive. Towering buildings, pristine grounds, and an energy that buzzed with ambition.

But before he could get far, a stern voice cut through the crowd.

"Excuse me! You—yes, you in the tracksuit!"

Izuku turned to see a tall boy with dark blue hair and glasses marching toward him, his back straight and arms practically glued to his sides like a soldier. His voice was loud, precise.

"You're supposed to be wearing a school uniform. This is an official examination! It is deeply disrespectful to show up in casual wear. Such disregard brings dishonor to your peers and this institution!"

Izuku blinked. "Oh, uh—sorry! I was homeschooled. I didn't even get a uniform."

The boy paused, clearly thrown off by that. He blinked behind his glasses, mouth half open to respond, when a soft thump echoed nearby.

They both turned to see a girl with brown hair sprawled out on the pavement, having tripped on her way in. Her papers scattered, and she rubbed her head with a wince.

Before anyone else could move, Izuku was already there.

He helped her up with careful hands, not even realizing he'd moved at all.

"Are you okay?" he asked, brushing dust from her sleeve.

She looked up, surprised, but smiled. "Yeah. Just a little clumsy, I guess."

Izuku helped gather her things. "It happens. First day nerves."

The girl looked at him curiously. "You're really fast."

He gave an awkward chuckle. "I, uh, work on a farm. Lots of running after animals."

The moment passed, and they both laughed. The stern boy watched quietly, then gave a small nod.

"I apologize," he said. "I spoke without understanding the full context. I'm Tenya Iida, from Sommei Private Academy."

"Izuku Midoriya," he replied, offering a hand.

The girl smiled as she brushed the dust off her skirt.

"I'm Ochaco Uraraka," she said cheerfully. "Thanks again for the help back there."

"Izuku Midoriya," he replied with a bashful grin. "It's nice to meet you."

The three of them—Izuku, Uraraka, and Iida—walked together toward the entrance of U.A., their nerves tempered slightly by the odd camaraderie they had found.

Inside the towering campus building, the students were corralled toward a massive auditorium. Midnight stood near the doors, directing traffic with a sultry smile and sharp red nails. Her mere presence had half the boys in a daze—and more than a few of them had nosebleeds, including one particularly short student with round, purple balls for hair.

Izuku couldn't help but blink awkwardly at the scene. That's… definitely not how I expected orientation to go.

Once inside the auditorium, the students found rows of seats stretching back into a shadowed dome. The ceiling itself was as high as a gymnasium, fitted with massive speakers and screens.

Each seat had a nameplate, and the students were instructed to sit according to their assignments. So, the group split.

"Good luck!" Uraraka said, giving Izuku a cheerful wave.

"You too," Izuku replied, smiling as he made his way through the rows.

He found his name near the middle of the hall. As he approached, he saw another boy already seated beside his spot—a tall teen with spiky ash-blond hair and a scowl permanently carved into his face.

"Hey," Izuku greeted politely. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. Looks like we're seatmates."

The blond boy didn't even look at him. "Leave me alone, you damned extra."

Izuku blinked. Well, that was direct.

He said nothing more and took his seat. His hands rested on a printed sheet that had been placed on each desk—a diagram showing various types of robots, each with a corresponding point value: one-point, two-point, and three-point machines, each growing in size and presumed difficulty. There was a fourth silhouette with a big 0 next to it, but no explanation was offered.

Before he could dwell on it, the auditorium darkened and spotlights hit the main stage.

"YEEEEAAAAH!! WHAT'S UP, U.A. HOPEFULS?!"

A booming voice echoed off the walls. Present Mic burst onto the stage with the energy of a live concert, throwing up double peace signs as the crowd of students stared with mixed awe and confusion.

"I'm Present Mic, here to walk you through the U.A. Entrance Exam—can I get a yeah?!"

A few half-hearted cheers responded, while others simply watched, unsure if they were supposed to cheer back.

Unfazed, Present Mic pushed on, explaining the structure of the exam with high-speed enthusiasm:

"You've got two hours to crush the written portion—nothing fancy, just math, logic, ethics, and your good ol' quirk safety laws! Then we move on to the big one: the practical exam!"

Cheers rippled through the auditorium.

He gestured to the screens behind him as they lit up with footage of students fighting robots in simulated cities.

"You'll be released into mock battle zones and earn points by destroying—or neutralizing—the robots you see here. One-point, two-point, and three-point bots, each harder than the last. Score high, and you might just earn a spot at U.A.!"

Present Mic paused dramatically.

"And before anyone freaks out, no, you don't lose points for helping others. This ain't a villain exam—so be heroic!"

As his voice echoed around the room, Tenya Iida stood abruptly, raising his hand with rigid formality.

"I have a concern!" he declared, voice crisp and assertive. "The handout depicts four types of robots, yet you have only explained three. This sort of inconsistency is unacceptable from the top hero school in the world!"

The room went quiet. All eyes turned to Present Mic, who grinned as if he'd been waiting for that question all day.

"Good catch, four-eyes! The zero-pointer is not an enemy—it's an obstacle. Big, mean, and only there to make your life difficult. It's not worth any points, and if too many of you swarm it, well…"

The screens flickered to show footage of the massive robot stomping through rubble as students scrambled to flee.

"…Let's just say you don't want to be in its way. Treat it like a natural disaster—avoid at all costs."

The tension rose as murmurs rippled through the auditorium.

After Present Mic's announcement, the tension in the room felt electrified. A silent understanding passed between students—this was it. The test that would determine their future.

Of course! Here's an improved and expanded version of the scene with a strong, character-driven conversation between Izuku and Tenya Iida that fits both their personalities and builds their dynamic.

After Present Mic wrapped up the briefing, the students were herded out of the auditorium in orderly waves and led down a long, polished corridor that opened up into a courtyard. Waiting there was a line of sleek, black buses—each with the U.A. insignia proudly stamped on the sides.

Proctors with clipboards checked names and directed students to buses in carefully divided groups. Izuku quickly noticed the system: no one from the same middle school was grouped together.

That way, no one can rely on familiarity. They're testing individuality, Izuku thought.

He scanned the bus he'd been assigned to and immediately spotted a familiar face—Tenya Iida, seated near the aisle, posture rigid and legs neatly crossed. The boy seemed lost in thought, possibly reviewing mental notes or strategies.

Izuku smiled and walked over. "Hey. Mind if I sit here?"

Iida blinked and then adjusted his glasses. "Ah, Midoriya, yes. Of course, please."

Izuku sat down, glancing out the window as the bus doors closed with a hiss. Engines whirred to life, and the vehicle gently pulled out of the lot.

There was a beat of silence before Iida turned to him.

"You performed admirably in the auditorium," he said matter-of-factly. "Helping that girl earlier, acting with courtesy, and even handling my… earlier rigidity, with patience."

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, no worries. You were just trying to keep things orderly. I respect that."

Iida nodded once, then folded his hands together. "If I may ask—what is your quirk? I was observing earlier. You moved with tremendous speed. Was that some form of enhanced mobility?"

Izuku glanced around—nobody else was paying them much attention—and then leaned slightly closer.

"It's called Solar Radiation Absorption," he said. "My body absorbs solar energy and converts it into physical power—speed, strength, senses, flight, stuff like that."

Iida's eyes widened slightly, impressed despite himself. "That sounds… immensely powerful. Like a biological engine running on sunlight."

"Something like that," Izuku chuckled. "But it comes with a responsibility. I have to be careful. Holding back is harder than letting loose."

Iida tilted his head thoughtfully. "Interesting. Most quirks have limitations, but yours sounds like it requires moral discipline as much as physical restraint."

Izuku nodded, his smile fading into something a little more serious. "I guess… I just don't want to hurt anyone by accident."

There was a moment of silence before Iida spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"That is… a noble approach, Midoriya. Too many people think a powerful quirk is enough to be a hero. But power without restraint is just destruction."

Izuku looked at him, a little surprised. Then he smiled. "Thanks, Iida. I think we're going to get along."

The bus came to a slow halt as they arrived at one of the mock urban zones—massive walled arenas designed to look like miniature cities. Tall buildings loomed, cars lay scattered as props, and at the far end, giant doors that likely held the robots began to hum.

A voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Alright, everyone! Time to show us what you've got!"

The students stood as the bus doors opened, each walking out with varying degrees of confidence—or nerves.

Izuku stepped off the bus, the sun hitting his skin and immediately warming his muscles. He closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling the light soak into him like water into dry soil.

This is it, he thought. Time to show them what I'm made of.

As the countdown to the practical exam began, Izuku stood tall—clad in his track suit, his eyes scanning the terrain.

He wasn't just going to just smash robots.

He was going to save people as well.

The massive mock city loomed before the students like a real warzone waiting to happen. Cracked pavement, damaged cars, smoking alleys, faux rubble—all designed to simulate chaos. The participants stood in awe at the scale of it.

From a raised platform above, Present Mic's voice echoed like a cannon blast through the speakers.

"START!"

But no one moved.

Everyone stayed frozen in place—intimidated by the silence, uncertain of who should move first. Eyes darted around. Feet shifted. Hearts pounded.

Present Mic leaned closer to the mic and shouted again, "THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL BATTLES! WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?! MOVE IT!"

BOOM!

A sharp crack like thunder split the air.

Wind exploded outward.

The students staggered back, many of them falling straight onto their butts.

All they saw was a green blur and a sonic boom as Izuku Midoriya broke the sound barrier, launching forward into the mock city like a green comet.

Gasps and curses followed. Several students blinked in confusion, struggling to even understand what had just happened.

"That guy's already inside!"

"Did he just—fly!?"

"Was that a missile!?"

From inside the observation room, several proctors watched through dozens of monitors displaying each sector of the arena. Behind a thick wall of glass, seated at a high table, were members of the U.A. entrance exam committee, including Principal Nezu, Ectoplasm, Cementoss, Power Loader, Thirteen, and Eraser Head.

Nezu sipped a tiny cup of tea, tail flicking. "Well well well… he didn't wait for drama. I like that."

Eraser Head narrowed his eyes. "Midoriya, Izuku. Homeschooled. Solar radiation absorption quirk. Strength, speed, durability, flight, super senses… basically a walking quirk armory."

Power Loader grunted, flipping through the application files. "No prior school record for athletic events, no combat tournaments, no hero training experience. And yet—"

He pointed at the screen.

Izuku dashed through the mock city, effortlessly dodging debris and weaving through fake structures. One by one, the towering combat robots barely had time to activate before they were obliterated—torn apart with clean, calculated blows. Every strike was precise, controlled. He didn't break a building. Didn't overshoot. Didn't lose control.

Ectoplasm nodded. "Twenty-five points in under four minutes."

"He's not just strong," Thirteen added, her voice soft. "He's holding back. You can tell."

They all paused as Izuku suddenly stopped. His head turned, ears twitching, as if picking up a sound no one else could hear.

In a distant sector, a student was pinned under rubble. Another was surrounded by robots and too paralyzed by fear to move.

Izuku blurred again—this time heading away from the highest concentration of point-earning robots.

Power Loader blinked. "He's leaving targets behind?"

Thirteen smiled. "No. He's saving people."

On screen, Izuku skidded to a halt beside a collapsed building. He gently lifted a large slab of concrete—making sure not to crush it—and helped the frightened student crawl free.

He spoke a few words, calmed their nerves, then dashed off again—this time punching apart the robots near the second student and lifting her to safety.

Eraser Head crossed his arms. "He's not just treating this like a test. He's acting like he's already a hero."

Nezu smiled into his teacup. "He's thinking long-term. He's internalized the hero code already. Prioritizing rescue alongside offense. Clever, humble, powerful… Hm. We haven't had a student quite like him in years."

Power Loader leaned forward. "Still… if he's this strong already, I'm worried about how much stronger he could get. You sure he's stable?"

Eraser Head didn't blink. "Watch his face. He's smiling when he helps people. He's nervous when he uses his power. He knows his limits. He cares."

Principal Nezu's eyes twinkled. "Which means, if we don't guide him well, someone else might."

The room went silent.

Then, from outside, a rumble shook the windows.

All heads turned back to the monitors.

The Zero Pointer had been unleashed.

The city shook.

Metal groaned like thunder.

The ground cracked as the Zero Pointer emerged—towering above the cityscape like a mechanical titan. Its red eye scanned the arena, and every student within sight panicked, scattering like ants.

Even Tenya Iida hesitated. "That's… not something we're meant to fight."

Then—he heard it. A scream.

"I-I can't move! My leg—!" Uraraka.

Izuku's head snapped toward the sound before the others even noticed. His enhanced hearing isolated it through the cacophony of collapsing buildings and screaming students.

He vanished in a green blur.

BOOM—he reappeared beside her just as the Zero Pointer's massive hand crushed the road behind him. Ochaco was pinned under a fallen metal support beam, her leg twisted unnaturally, tears streaming down her face.

"I-I think it's broken…" she whimpered.

"I've got you," Izuku said gently, crouching beside her. "Don't move."

With one hand, he lifted the beam as if it weighed nothing. Carefully, he slipped his other arm under her and lifted her bridal-style. Her face flushed red in embarrassment and pain.

That's when the Zero Pointer turned toward them.

Its massive red eye glowed—ready to unleash devastation.

"I'll handle this," Izuku said softly, stepping into the open.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The robot lumbered forward.

Izuku looked down at Ochaco. "Close your eyes."

She did.

Izuku's own eyes began to glow red.

SSHHHHHHHKRAAASH!

Twin beams of concentrated heat shot from his eyes, slicing through the robot like hot knives through butter. The massive metal titan sparked, groaned, and then—split clean in half, its upper body crashing to the ground with an earthshaking explosion of dust and metal.

The silence afterward was deafening.

Dozens of students stared from behind cover. Even the proctors, watching on their monitors, were speechless.

Izuku turned and gently cradled Ochaco against his chest, taking careful steps out of the ruined street.

Recovery Girl blinked in surprise when the barn door-style doors of the arena clinic burst open and Izuku Midoriya strode in, carrying Uraraka in his arms.

"She's got a broken leg, maybe a hairline fracture in her right femur. No concussion, but she's probably still in shock," Izuku said quickly but calmly.

Recovery Girl looked at him sharply. "And how exactly do you know that, young man?"

Izuku smiled sheepishly and adjusted Uraraka carefully onto the healing cot. "I have X-ray vision. Helps me… see things."

He reached into his track suit and pulled out a worn green card with official government markings. It had his photo, his full name, and a glowing emblem with the words:

"Quirk Permit – Flight Authorization Only."

Recovery Girl's eyebrows rose. "Just flight, huh?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Everything else is off the books. For now."

She nodded and immediately began treating Ochaco, placing a soft hand on the girl's leg. "You did well, Midoriya. Go get some rest. You've earned it."

Izuku walked back outside, looked up into the sky, and took a deep breath.

Then

BOOM

He rocketed into the sky, a sonic boom rippling through the clouds as he soared higher and higher. The green blur shimmered in the early afternoon sun, cutting across the horizon like a shooting star.

Back at U.A., the observers in the control room sat in stunned silence.

Thirteen whispered, "He split the Zero Pointer in half. With heat vision."

Power Loader muttered, "...With a girl in his arms."

Eraser Head leaned forward. "He still didn't use his full power."

Principal Nezu sipped his tea. "Indeed. But he made one thing perfectly clear to us..."

All heads turned to him.

Nezu smiled.

"He's here to be more than a student. He's here to be a symbol."

The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, casting golden light across the waves that lapped gently at the sand. The once-trash-covered beach was now pristine—cleaned by Izuku in a blur of super-speed effort just days before.

The air smelled like salt and seaweed. The wind tugged at Izuku's green track jacket as he touched down gently on the sand, landing with barely a sound.

He took a deep breath and looked around. He smiled.

He felt proud.

For once, he wasn't questioning himself or worrying whether he was enough. He had helped people today—really helped them—and he'd done it his way.

But then, just up the beach, he saw a man standing alone near the waterline.

A tall man in a dark trench coat, sharp glasses catching the sunlight, arms crossed behind his back like he was inspecting the ocean itself.

Sir Nighteye.

The same pro hero Izuku had met briefly before the exam—the one who had used his quirk on him.

Izuku approached slowly, crunching soft sand beneath his boots. "Sir Nighteye?"

The hero didn't turn. His voice was calm, distant. "Midoriya… I thought you might come here."

Izuku stopped a few feet away. "You… used your quirk on me, didn't you? Back in the city."

"I did." Nighteye finally looked at him. "I wanted to see what kind of future someone like you might have. Your quirk data… was incomplete. And your abilities are, let's just say… unusual."

Izuku scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm still figuring all of it out. It's kind of… complicated."

"That's an understatement." Nighteye took a slow breath, then looked Izuku in the eye. "When I used Foresight on you… your image was bathed in sunlight. I couldn't even see your face. You stood alone. Above the clouds. Like a beacon."

Izuku blinked. "You mean… I was flying?"

"Not just flying," Nighteye said, stepping closer. "You were standing for something. The image wasn't clear… but it was powerful. Radiant. I've never seen anything like it. It felt like looking at a myth before it becomes legend."

Izuku looked down at his feet, the sand shifting beneath him. "That… sounds kind of scary."

"Good." Nighteye's tone softened just slightly. "Because only someone who's afraid of their own power can be trusted to use it wisely."

Izuku smiled a little. "I'm trying to be careful. I… don't want to hurt anyone."

"Then you're already ahead of many who wear capes and call themselves heroes," Nighteye replied.

A gust of wind passed between them, and they both stood in silence for a moment—watching the sky shift to orange and lavender.

Then Nighteye spoke again. "You'll be accepted into U.A., Midoriya. That much I'm sure of. But remember this…"

Izuku looked at him, waiting.

"There will come a day when your strength alone won't be enough. When you'll have to inspire others to stand, even when you can no longer fly."

Izuku nodded slowly, the words settling deep in his heart.

"I'll remember that," he said.

Nighteye offered him a rare, subtle smile. "Good. Now go home. Your parents are probably wondering where their sun-streaked hero flew off to."

Izuku chuckled, turned, and launched into the sky—leaving behind only a gust of wind and footprints in the sand.

A week had passed since the U.A. entrance exam, and Izuku had filled his days trying not to think about it—though that was nearly impossible.

Every morning, he finished his chores faster than usual. Every afternoon, he flew long circuits around Japan, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling. He helped a farmer repair a collapsed barn roof. He guided lost hikers out of the forest. He even saved a kitten stuck on top of a billboard—though that earned him a lecture from a local pro hero about using powers in public again.

At night, though, the doubt crept in.

He lay on the barn roof, staring at the stars, wondering if U.A. was really going to accept someone like him. Someone who didn't have a normal quirk. Someone with secrets. Someone… from Krypton.

Inko tried to reassure him whenever he came home looking anxious, sliding a plate of steaming katsudon in front of him with a warm smile.

Hisashi gave calm nods and little reminders like, "No news just means they're taking their time picking the best."

But by day six, even the chickens could sense his tension.

It was early afternoon. The sun beamed down gently, and Izuku had just finished repairing a section of the barn's roof that had been rattled loose by a windstorm.

That's when he heard the mail truck.

Thump.

The sound of something heavier than a letter hitting the bottom of the mailbox.

Izuku zipped over and opened it.

There, sitting alone in the metal box, was a silver and blue envelope. It wasn't paper—it was some kind of reinforced polymer. His name was embossed on the front:

MIDORIYA, IZUKU

U.A. ENTRANCE EXAMINATION RESULTS

His heart thudded. He ran back to the house but stopped just short of the porch.

He took a deep breath. His hands shook.

"Inko! Dad! I got it!"

Within seconds, both of his parents were by his side.

"Well don't just stand there, open it!" Inko said, wringing her hands with excitement.

Izuku opened the envelope and inside was a small, round silver disc.

He pressed the center.

With a burst of blue light, a hologram appeared in front of him.

ALL MIGHT.

Wearing a golden hero suit and that trademark wide grin, U.A.'s Symbol of Peace stood proud in the air between them.

"YOUNG MIDORIYA!" the hologram boomed. "I AM HERE… with your results!"

Izuku's breath caught in his throat.

"I have to say, I was very impressed! Not only did you score the highest in the written portion, but your combat score in the practical exam was also excellent! But more than that…"

The image shifted to show footage of Izuku saving Uraraka, using his x-ray vision, and lifting rubble with precision care.

"You showed heart. Courage. And compassion. Those, my boy, are traits of a true hero!"

The footage then shifted again—to a scoreboard.

Midoriya, Izuku — Combat Points: 45

Rescue Points: 60

Total: 105 — Top Score

"In recognition of your strength and your spirit, U.A. High School is honored to offer you admission into the Hero Course!"

The hologram gave a thumbs-up.

"I'll be seeing you very soon, young Midoriya. Until then—keep soaring!"

The disc powered down and fell silent.

Izuku stood frozen for a moment. Then he looked at his parents.

"I… I got in," he whispered.

Then he grinned so wide it hurt and shouted, "I GOT IN!"

Inko cried and hugged him tight. Hisashi gave him a firm pat on the back, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face.

Along with the admission letter, a secondary message came attached—a form marked "Hero Costume Submission - Mandatory." It read:

> "All admitted students must submit their proposed Hero Costume design or the physical suit if already constructed. The gear will be inspected for safety, functionality, and legality before being approved for Hero Course training use."

Izuku knew what that meant: he had to turn in the Kryptonian suit. The one the ship had created. The one that hugged his body perfectly. That shimmered like armor but moved like cloth. That wasn't made of any known Earth fabric.

Hisashi rubbed the back of his neck as he looked it over. "Think it's safe to turn it in?"

Izuku nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll just say… it was custom-made. I won't say anything about the ship. Or Krypton."

Hisashi's jaw tensed, but he nodded. "Good. Best to keep some cards close to the chest."

They spent the entire day driving around Musutafu. Hisashi helped Izuku get fitted for the standard U.A. uniform—a clean blue blazer with gold buttons and polished slacks. They picked up notebooks, pens, textbooks, a lunch container with All Might stickers, and a sturdy backpack.

It was late afternoon by the time they pulled up to the massive gates of U.A. High School.

"I'll wait here," Hisashi said, putting the truck in park. "Go on, kiddo."

Izuku clutched the slim black garment bag with his hero suit inside and gave a quick nod. "Okay."

The guards at the gate recognized him instantly—his file had been sent ahead. One waved him through and guided him to the east wing of the school, where a side entrance led to a tech lab labeled.

As the door hissed open, Izuku stepped into a sleek room filled with white counters, equipment, and glowing screens. The walls were lined with racks of materials, fibers, wires, and reinforced armor plating.

A woman in a sharp lab coat stood behind a workbench, welding goggles pushed up into her sandy brown hair. Her left sleeve was rolled up, revealing a cybernetic forearm that buzzed faintly with exposed conduits.

She looked up as the door shut behind him.

"Midoriya, right? The homeschooled one?" Her voice was clipped but not unkind.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing politely. "I'm here to drop off my hero costume."

She gestured to the bench. "Let's see it."

Izuku opened the garment bag carefully, revealing the Kryptonian suit folded with military precision. The red cape shimmered faintly, and the crest—a stylized 'S'—seemed to glow just a little under the lab lights.

The woman blinked. "That's… not standard."

Izuku chuckled nervously. "It's… custom made. My dad had a friend overseas who used to design gear for athletes and cosplayers. I sent them a sketch. They surprised me with this."

She walked around the bench slowly, eyes narrowed, studying the material. She didn't touch it—just observed.

"Hmm. High-tensile fiber blend. Seamless layering. No armor pads… but it's denser than it looks." She tapped a tablet and scanned the suit with a small handheld device.

No readings came up.

She frowned. "No electromagnetic signature. No thermal flux. This material… it's not from any database I've seen."

Izuku swallowed. "Yeah, I think it's proprietary. Like, an experimental weave."

She raised a brow at him. "Experimental weave, huh?"

He forced a smile. "Yeah."

For a moment, it felt like she could see right through him. But then she just sighed, recorded a few notes on her pad, and nodded.

"Well, it doesn't break any guidelines. No external weapons, no flight-assist, no power boosters. Just a very durable, very well-fitted suit. It's actually kind of old-school. Refreshing, really."

She extended a gloved hand. "I'm Houndstooth. I help with the tech inspection and suit registration for U.A.'s Hero Course. You're good to go, Midoriya. You'll get it back on your first combat training day."

Izuku took her hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you, ma'am."

As he turned to leave, she called out after him, "Oh, and Midoriya?"

He stopped in the doorway.

"You've got something about you. Not just the way you carry yourself—more than that. Just… try not to burn too bright too fast, yeah? The world doesn't know what to do with suns."

Izuku blinked. Then nodded.

"I'll remember that."

When he got back to the truck, Hisashi didn't need to ask how it went.

"You kept the secret?"

Izuku nodded, smiling to himself. "I did. And she thinks the suit is refreshing."

Hisashi chuckled and started the engine. "So does your mom."

Later that evening, Houndstooth walked through the quiet halls of U.A., the garment bag slung over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. But to her, it felt heavier than steel.

She entered the principal's office—a sleek space lit with warm lights and lined with books, gadgets, and framed accolades from decades of heroic education. At the center sat Nezu, the rodent genius, sipping his tea with pinky raised and his ever-cheerful smile firmly in place.

"Ah, Miss Houndstooth," Nezu chirped. "You rarely come by after hours. Is this about one of our new students?"

She placed the garment bag on his desk with deliberate care.

"It's about Midoriya Izuku. Homeschooled. No school records before last year. Stellar entrance exam results. Quiet, polite… and submitted this as his Hero Costume."

Nezu opened the bag, revealing the Kryptonian suit folded inside. His eyes scanned every detail with a sharp glint—professional, calculating.

The shimmering blue material, the golden belt, the unmistakable red cape… and the red trunks.

"Hmm," he mused, stroking his chin with his tiny paw. "At least the red trunks are normal. Fashionably nostalgic. The rest? Not so much."

Houndstooth activated her tablet and turned it toward him, displaying the data scan from earlier.

"No energy signature. No polymer base I can trace. No thermal bleed, and the tensile strength is well beyond our standard measurements. I ran it through six different scanners—got nothing conclusive. It's not living, not self-repairing, and not reactive. As far as I can tell... it's just a suit."

Nezu leaned in closer, then gave a small chuckle.

"'Just a suit,' she says, while telling me it's practically indestructible. Fascinating."

Houndstooth nodded. "There are no seams. No threads.

Nezu's gaze narrowed with curiosity.

"Which family, I wonder?"

"None that I can trace. There are no public records of any tailor who could make something like this. The fabric doesn't exist in any Earth database—military, private, or black market."

Nezu sipped his tea again, thoughtful.

"And he's the boy who broke the sound barrier during the exam."

"He split a Zero Pointer in half with heat vision," she added. "Then carried a girl to the nurse, correctly diagnosing a leg fracture without touching her. He claims he has X-ray vision. He even had a permit for flight signed off by the Hero Commission."

Nezu tapped his paw against his teacup, the sound light but deliberate.

"So he's strong, fast, polite… and careful. And apparently raised on a farm, with no previous record of quirk registration."

The little genius chuckled again.

"Well, well, young Midoriya… I do love a good mystery. But if he's hiding something, he's hiding it with discipline, and he's using his abilities for good. That much is certain."

Houndstooth zipped the bag closed.

"So what do you want me to do?"

Nezu smiled.

"Keep the suit safe. Approve it. No need to spook the boy. If he's as strong as he seems, we want him to feel at home here. And perhaps, over time… he'll reveal the truth on his own."

As the week came to an end izuku and his parent went into town to party with everyone

As dusk draped its golden shawl across the sky, the Midoriya farm shimmered under soft starlight. Crickets chirped lazily. The barn lights flickered on, casting long shadows across the chicken coop and cornfields.

Inko stood at the kitchen window, drying dishes, when she glanced toward the porch where Izuku sat tying the laces on his sneakers.

"You know," she said gently, "the summer festival is this weekend. Last one before you start at U.A. Want to go?"

Izuku looked up, surprised, then smiled. "Sure, Mom. I guess this'll be my last one for a while, huh? After this, it's all hero work, training, school…"

She gave him a look only mothers can give—half pride, half bittersweet worry.

"Well, heroes deserve to have some fun too."

The week passed quickly, filled with final preparations. Izuku finished helping Hisashi reinforce the barn's roof and then adjusted to the new school schedule U.A. had sent out. Each morning, he flew laps over the sea to sharpen his aerial control, staying low enough not to raise suspicion.

By the time Friday arrived, the small farming town was buzzing with excitement. Red and white lanterns lined the streets. Paper fans and glowing masks were sold from stands. The scent of yakisoba and fried mochi filled the air, and children ran around in yukatas, sparklers clutched in tiny fists.

The Midoriyas arrived just after sunset.

Izuku wore a simple green yukata that his mother had bought him years ago—it still somehow fit. Hisashi held a small bag of grilled corn in one hand and a bottle of cider in the other. Inko chatted with neighbors while browsing handmade trinkets.

For a moment, Izuku wasn't Kal-El of Krypton.

He wasn't even Midoriya Izuku, soon-to-be student at U.A.

He was just a boy enjoying the summer night, feeling the grass beneath his feet and the breeze on his face.

As the festival hit its peak, fireworks began crackling across the sky. People gazed up in awe, but behind the food stands and festival booths, a few older teens were whispering near a convenience store.

"You hear about that guy who cleaned Takoba Beach in under five minutes?"

"Yeah. The city workers say he blurred across the sand. Like a ghost."

"Heard he saved a girl during the U.A. exam. Split a robot with laser eyes."

They looked around.

One of them saw Izuku passing by, sipping a ramune soda. Their eyes lingered on him for a second too long.

"Hey... isn't that the kid from the farm?"

Another nodded.

"He doesn't look like much."

"Yeah… but neither did All Might when he was young."