Chapter 10: The Engine and the Rocket
The atmosphere on the track was electric.
On one side of the starting line stood Tenya Iida. He was the picture of aerodynamic discipline. He crouched low in a runner's stance, his fingers splayed on the white line, his calves gleaming metallic in the sunlight. The engines embedded in his legs let out a low, vibrating hum, like a sports car idling at a red light, waiting for the signal to tear up the asphalt.
On the other side stood Natsu Dragneel. He didn't crouch. He stood with his knees slightly bent, his fists clenched at his sides, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked less like a runner and more like a boxer waiting for the bell.
"On your mark," Aizawa droned, raising the starting pistol toward the sky. His finger hovered over the trigger, his expression bored.
"Get set."
The hum in Iida's legs pitched higher.
Natsu took a deep breath, his chest expanding.
BANG!
The gunshot cracked through the silence.
"I GOT THIS!!" Natsu roared.
He exploded off the line using pure physical muscle. His start was explosive, his arms pumping furiously as he dashed forward, kicking up dust. For a split second, he felt fast. He felt powerful. He was already thinking about his victory pose.
VROOOOOOM!
A sound like a jet engine tore past his right ear.
Natsu's eyes widened. In a blink, the space beside him was empty.
Tenya Iida was already five meters ahead. Blue exhaust flames shot from his exhaust pipes, propelling him forward with mechanical perfection. He was a blur of blue and silver, tearing through the air resistance like it didn't exist.
"Hah?!!" Natsu's jaw dropped as he watched Iida's back getting smaller. "He's fast!!"
The finish line was approaching rapidly. At this rate, Natsu would be left eating dust.
A vein popped on Natsu's forehead. His competitive spirit, a beast that refused to be tamed, snapped its leash.
"LIKE I'M GONNA LOSE!!" Natsu screamed.
He didn't care about form. He didn't care about the rules of track and field.
He stomped his feet down hard.
FWOOOSH!
A massive, concentrated blast of fire erupted from the soles of his gym sneakers. Unlike his reinforced street shoes, these were standard-issue U.A. gym shoes. The rubber soles instantly hissed, smoking under the intense thermal output, but they held just long enough.
"FIRE DRAGON'S... ROCKET!!"
BOOM!
Natsu didn't run anymore. He launched.
His body became a horizontal missile. He flew parallel to the ground, inches above the track, propelled by the continuous jet of flames shooting from his feet. The acceleration was violent. The wind pressure flattened his spiky pink hair against his skull.
Iida, focused entirely on the finish line, heard the roar of the fire behind him. He glanced back, his eyes widening behind his glasses.
What the—?!
Natsu tore through the space between them. He closed the gap in a heartbeat, his scarf flapping wildly in the wind.
"I'M PASSING YOU!" Natsu yelled over the roar of his own flames.
"I won't allow it!" Iida shouted back, shifting into his highest gear, his engines screaming.
They were neck and neck. Engine vs. Fire. Machine vs. Dragon.
The finish line was right there.
Both students leaned forward, pushing their Quirks to the absolute breaking point.
BEEP!
The sensor robot at the finish line flashed.
3.04 Seconds.
3.05 Seconds.
Natsu Dragneel skidded across the ground, tumbling and rolling as he killed his momentum, finally stopping in a cloud of dust. Smoke rose from his heels, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air.
Iida decelerated gracefully, his engines winding down with a whir, coming to a precise stop.
The robot announced the results in a monotone voice.
"Winner: Natsu Dragneel. Time: 3.04 seconds."
"Runner-up: Tenya Iida. Time: 3.05 seconds."
A difference of 0.01 seconds.
Natsu sat up on the sand, panting. He looked at the board, then pumped his fist in the air.
"YEAH!!" Natsu cheered. "I won! By a hair!"
Iida stared at the board, stunned. He adjusted his glasses, looking at Natsu with a mix of frustration and genuine professional admiration.
"Incredible," Iida muttered, walking over. "To think you could generate enough propulsion to overtake my Engines in such a short distance... Your explosive power is formidable, Dragneel-kun."
"Heh," Natsu grinned, standing up. He looked down at his shoes. The soles were black and partially melted, sticking slightly to the sand. "Though I think I owe the school a new pair of shoes. These didn't like the heat."
The rest of the class watched in awe.
"That was fast, Kero..." Tsuyu Asui croaked, her finger on her chin. "They were both like cars."
"3.04 seconds?" Momo Yaoyorozu whispered, writing it down mentally. "That is Olympic level speed. And Natsu-san achieved it through pure propulsion. His raw power is frightening."
Even Bakugo, standing with his arms crossed, didn't make a snarky comment. He just stared at Natsu, his red eyes narrowing as he recalculated his assessment of the "Salamander."
Aizawa looked at the time, then at Natsu's ruined shoes.
"Dragneel," Aizawa called out, marking something on his tablet. "Good time. But if you burn through a pair of shoes every time you move, you'll be bankrupt before you graduate. Learn to control your output."
"Aye, sir!" Natsu saluted, ignoring the warning and basking in the victory.
"Next pair," Aizawa announced. "Uraraka and Ashido. Step up."
.
.
The Physical Fitness Test continued, and with each event, Natsu Dragneel seemed determined to turn the athletic grounds into a disaster zone of comedy and chaos.
Event 2: Grip Strength
The students lined up, holding digital hand dynamometers. Mezo Shoji, the tall student with the multiple arms, stepped up. He clamped the device with a massive, combined grip from three of his tentacles.
BEEP.
540 kg.
"Whoa!" Mineta gasped, staring at the screen. "He's a monster! An octopus-gorilla hybrid!"
Natsu Dragneel stared at the number, his jaw tight. A vein throbbed on his temple.
"540...?" Natsu muttered, looking down at the device in his own hand. "I can beat that. I just need to squeeze, right?"
He took a deep breath, planted his feet, and squeezed with raw, physical strength. His arm muscles bulged, veins popping out as he strained.
BEEP.
70 kg.
Natsu froze. He stared at the screen. The number mocked him. It was a perfectly respectable score for an athletic teenager, but compared to Shoji's monstrous result, it was pathetic.
"SEVENTY?!" Natsu yelled at the machine. "Is this thing broken?! I'm way stronger than that!"
Denki Kaminari, who was standing next to him, patted Natsu's shoulder sympathetically.
"Hey, don't worry about it, man," Kaminari said with a laid-back grin. "70 is pretty good! We can't all be gorillas like Shoji. Everyone has their own specialty, you know?"
Natsu's head snapped toward Kaminari. His eyes were burning with irrational competitive fury.
"I don't accept this!" Natsu growled. "I'm not losing that guy. Watch this!"
"Wait, dude, calm down—"
"HAAAAAAH!"
Natsu didn't calm down. Instead, flames erupted around his forearm. He channeled his magical heat directly into his palm, trying to use the thermal expansion to force the machine to register a higher number.
"GRIP OF THE FIRE DRAGON!"
The machine didn't register a higher number. Instead, the plastic casing began to whine. Inside the digital display, electricity started to arc.
Bzzzt... Crackle.
Bright blue sparks shot out of the device's seams.
Natsu blinked.
Kaminari blinked.
They looked at each other for a split second.
"Uh oh," Kaminari whispered.
BOOM!
The dynamometer exploded in a small but violent cloud of black smoke and shrapnel.
"GAAAAH!" Natsu and Kaminari were blown backward. When the smoke cleared, Natsu's face was covered in soot, his hair standing up in a frizzy mess, holding nothing but a charred handle.
"NATSU!!" Happy screamed from the sidelines, clutching his head. "You broke it!!"
"My eyes..." Kaminari coughed, waving smoke away.
Suddenly, a grey, ribbon-like material shot through the air.
THWIP. SWISH. TIGHTEN.
Before Natsu could wipe the soot from his eyes, Aizawa's capture weapon wrapped around him. It coiled around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him a few inches off the ground like a dangling worm.
"Ack!" Natsu choked, struggling against the binding cloth.
Aizawa stood there, his hair floating menacingly, his eyes glowing red. He looked absolutely done with this day.
"That is U.A. property, Dragneel," Aizawa growled, reeling Natsu in closer until they were face-to-face. "Stop destroying my equipment because of your childish temper tantrums. Do it again, and I'll expel you before the tests are even over."
"S-Sorry..." Natsu squeaked, hanging limply in the scarf.
"Good grief," Happy sighed, covering his face with his paws. "He's a destruction magnet."
Event 3: Standing Long Jump
Bakugo blasted himself across the sandpit with a terrifying explosion, clearing the distance easily. Aoyama used his navel laser to propel himself backward, landing gracefully.
Then came Natsu.
"I'm gonna fly!" Natsu announced.
He stood at the edge of the pit. He wound up his arms. Fire erupted from his elbows and feet simultaneously.
"FIRE DRAGON'S... WING ATTACK!"
He launched himself forward with tremendous force. But he miscalculated the angle of his elbow jets. Instead of going forward in an arc, he spun uncontrollably in mid-air like a fiery pinwheel.
"Waaaaah!" Natsu screamed as he rotated.
FWUMP.
He face-planted directly into the sand at the far end of the pit, burying his head like an ostrich. His legs kicked in the air for a moment before he fell silent.
Ochaco Uraraka covered her mouth to hide a giggle. "He cleared the distance... but he looks so silly doing it."
Natsu pulled his head out of the sand, spitting out grains. "I meant to do that! It's a tactical landing! Ahahahaha"
Sero lifted one eyebrow, murmuring, "How reckless.."
Event 4: Repeated Side Steps
This was Mineta's domain. The small boy bounced back and forth between the lines using the purple spheres on his head, moving with incredible speed.
"Side-side-side-side!" Mineta chanted.
Natsu stepped up. "I can do that! I just need speed!"
He tried to use small bursts of fire from his feet to strafe sideways.
Burst. Step. Burst. Step.
Natsu began leaping from side to side, using bursts of his flames to propel himself back across, pushing his body to its limits as he tried to match Mineta's skill in this test.
Suddenly, the sound of explosions echoed through the air.
His eyes shifted—and there was Bakugo.
"Die!!" Bakugo roared, blasting himself from one side to the other, rebounding violently with his explosions and forcing his way into the second-best score, just behind Mineta.
Natsu finally dropped to the ground, a bead of sweat sliding down his forehead.
Third place.
That was where he stood in this test.
The sun climbed higher. The class moved through the sit-ups and the seated toe-touch. Finally, they looped back to the event that had started it all: The Ball Throw.
Most of the class had finished. Only one student remained.
Izuku Midoriya.
The green-haired boy walked to the circle. He looked terrified. He was shaking, clutching the ball to his chest.
"Midoriya hasn't shown us anything yet," Kirishima whispered to Natsu. "He's the only one with zero impressive scores so far."
"Quirkless loser," Bakugo scoffed, looking away.
Natsu didn't say anything. He stood with his arms crossed, watching Midoriya's back. He saw the trembling. But he also saw how tight the kid was gripping the ball.
He's scared, Natsu thought. But he's stepping up.
Midoriya stood in the center. He gripped the ball tight, mumbling to himself. He took a stance, winding up his arm.
I have to do it, Midoriya thought. Even if it breaks my arm... I have to stay!
"SMASH!!" he screamed internally.
He threw the ball with everything he had.
Flop.
The ball flew pathetically through the air and landed with a soft thud on the grass.
46 Meters.
Midoriya froze, his hand still extended. "Huh?" He stared at his trembling fingers. "I... I definitely tried to use it just now..."
"I erased it."
A cold, dry voice cut through the confusion.
Midoriya turned around.
Shota Aizawa was standing there, but he looked different. The tired, slouching man was gone. In his place was a figure of intimidation. His long, messy black hair was floating straight up, defying gravity. His capture scarf defied physics, swirling around him like a living snake. And beneath his bangs, his eyes were glowing a piercing, blood-red.
"That stupid stunt you were about to pull," Aizawa said, stepping closer. "Did you intend to break your arm again?"
"My... my arm?" Midoriya stammered.
"I watched the entrance exam footage," Aizawa continued, his voice harsh. "You can't control your Quirk, can you? Do you intend to become incapacitated again and force someone else to save you?"
Midoriya flinched. "T-That's not what I intended—!"
SWISH.
Before Midoriya could finish, Aizawa's capture cloth shot out. It wrapped around Midoriya, pulling him close until they were inches apart. Aizawa glared down at him.
"Whatever your intentions," Aizawa whispered, "if you break your bones, you become a liability. A hero who needs saving every time they save someone else... isn't a hero at all."
The students on the sidelines watched in confusion.
"What is he talking about?" Natsu asked, tilting his head.
"I think this is the teacher's Quirk," Happy whispered, hiding behind Natsu's leg. "Those red eyes gave me the chills earlier!"
"Wait..." one student murmured, pointing at Aizawa's distinctive yellow goggles hanging around his neck. "Those goggles... and that style... Isn't he the Underground Hero: Eraser Head?"
"Eraser Head?" Natsu frowned. "Sounds like stationary."
"He's an underground hero," Tsuyu Asui explained, placing a finger on her chin. "He hates media attention, so he's not famous. But his Quirk can nullify the Quirk of anyone he looks at."
"Scary," Happy shivered. "That's why I couldn't fly in the class.."
Back in the circle, Aizawa leaned back, his eyes narrowing.
"You are not a hero," Aizawa said brutally. "You cannot save anyone with that reckless power."
He held the stare for another second, letting the reality sink in, crushing Midoriya's hope. Then, abruptly, Aizawa blinked. His hair fell back down. The red glow vanished from his eyes.
He released the capture cloth, letting Midoriya stagger back.
"I returned your Quirk," Aizawa said, looking bored again. He turned away, checking his phone. "Hurry up and get it over with."
Midoriya stood there, panting, clutching the ball. The harsh words echoed in his mind. But instead of breaking him, a flicker of something else appeared in his eyes.
He didn't give up.
"He's still gonna try?" Natsu observed, his expression turning serious. He watched Midoriya wipe the sweat from his forehead. "You can do it bro!"
Midoriya took a deep breath. He wound up again.
I can't use 100%... I can't break my arm...
"Smash..." Midoriya whispered.
At the very last micro-second of the throw, he channeled all his power—not into his arm—but into the tip of his right index finger.
BOOM!
The air cracked. A shockwave blasted outward, kicking up dust and wind that ruffled Natsu's scarf. The ball vanished into the sky, soaring with a force that overwhelmed Natsu's throw.
705.3 Meters.
The class gasped.
"He got over 700 meters?!"
"Finally, a hero-like record!"
Midoriya turned to face Aizawa. His right index finger was broken, swollen, and purple. He clutched his fist, tears of pain in his eyes, but he smiled—a fierce, defiant smile.
"Sensei..." Midoriya panted, holding up his fist. "I can... still move!"
Aizawa's eyes widened slightly. A small, almost invisible smile touched the corners of his lips.
He focused the power to a single point to minimize the damage... Aizawa thought. This kid...
"Did you see his finger?!" Iida exclaimed. "It snapped!"
"That was gross," Mineta shivered.
But Natsu remained silent. He stared at Midoriya. He looked at the broken finger, then at the fire in the boy's eyes. Natsu's grin faded, replaced by a look of intense seriousness.
"He hurt himself to get that score," Natsu whispered.
"Aye," Happy nodded, looking solemn. "He's got guts."
The Final Results
The sun began to dip, casting long orange shadows across the field. The eight tests were concluded. The students gathered around Aizawa, exhausted, bruised, and anxious.
"All right," Aizawa said, putting his phone away. "I'll simply project the results. It's a waste of time to read them out."
He pressed a button. A hologram appeared in the air, listing the names from top to bottom.
Natsu squinted at the list.
1. Natsu Dragneel
2. Momo Yaoyorozu
3. Shoto Todoroki
4. Katsuki Bakugo
5. Tenya Iida
...
20. Izuku Midoriya
Natsu blinked. "Number one?"
"YEAH!" Happy cheered from the ground, throwing his paws up. "We're number one!!"
Bakugo stared at the board, his teeth grinding together. Fourth? I lost to that half-and-half bastard, the ponytail girl... and the salamander bastard?
But the eyes of the class were drawn to the bottom of the list.
Izuku Midoriya stood frozen, staring at his name in the 21st spot. The silence was deafening.
"Midoriya..." Uraraka whispered, looking sad.
"By the way," Aizawa spoke up, turning off the hologram. He looked at the terrified faces of the students, and then at Midoriya, who looked ready to vomit.
"The expulsion rule was a lie."
The wind blew across the field. A dead leaf skittered by.
"Huh?" Natsu said.
Aizawa grinned, a wide, shit-eating grin.
"It was a logical ruse to draw out the upper limits of your potential."
"WHAAAAAAAAT?!!!!"
The class screamed in unison. Their jaws hit the floor.
"A LIE?!" Iida shouted, chopping the air. "But that is so... so..."
"It was pretty obvious if you thought about it," Momo Yaoyorozu said calmly, her hand on her chest. "I figured it was a deception from the start."
"Wait, you knew?!" Sero and Kaminari yelled at her. "You should have told us!"
Natsu stood there, processing the information. He looked at Aizawa's smug face. He looked at the relieved (and sobbing) Midoriya.
Slowly, Natsu's face turned red. Steam shot out of his ears.
"YOU LIAR!" Natsu shouted, pointing an accusing finger at his teacher. "You made me worry for nothing! I thought I was gonna lose my school lunch privileges or something!"
"School lunch wasn't on the line, expulsion was," Happy corrected him.
"Same thing!" Natsu yelled.
Aizawa turned to walk away. "Whatever. Your syllabuses are back in the classroom. Give them a look."
He paused and glanced back at Midoriya. "Midoriya. Go to the nurse's office and get that finger fixed."
As Aizawa walked away, dragging his feet, he muttered to himself.
That was close... I actually intended to expel someone today. But...
He glanced back one last time at the group—at the boy with the broken finger and the boy with the pink hair screaming at the sky.
...it seems this batch has potential.
.
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