Today was the day the students of Orudera Junior High would officially announce their career aspirations.
Sitting at his desk, Izuku Midoriya subconsciously glanced at the empty seat behind him. The memory of the tram overpass flashed through his mind like a vivid dream.
What is Wu Xuan thinking?
Before he could dwell on it, the homeroom teacher walked to the podium, clutching a stack of career application forms.
"You have less than a year before high school, which means it's time to start thinking seriously about your futures. I'm going to pass out these handouts, but..." The teacher's tone suddenly turned playful as he tossed the papers into the air. "I assume everyone here is aiming for the Hero Course, right?"
"YESSSS!"
The class erupted in a cacophony of cheers, students activating their minor Quirks—stretching limbs, changing colors, or emitting small sparks. Only two remained still. One sat with his legs crossed on the desk, radiating arrogance; the other kept his head down, silent and invisible.
Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya.
"Hey, teach! Don't lump me in with these extras!" Bakugo barked, his voice cutting through the noise. "I'm not planning on rotting at the bottom with these 'weak-Quirk' losers!"
His words sparked immediate outrage, but Bakugo ignored the glares. He was the king of this small pond, and he knew it.
The teacher glanced at the top form in his hand. "Ah, Bakugo... you're aiming for U.A. High, aren't you?"
The class fell into a hushed, envious silence. U.A. was the pinnacle. But before Bakugo could bask in the attention, the teacher added, "Oh, and it looks like Midoriya wants to go to U.A. too."
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, the room exploded into mocking laughter.
"Hahaha! You're kidding, right?"
"A Quirkless loser trying for U.A.?"
"Get real, Deku!"
"No, wait!" Midoriya stammered, his voice trembling. "It's not like that! Even without a Quirk, they have General Studies or the Support Department..."
BOOM!
Bakugo slammed his palm onto Midoriya's desk, smoke rising from the wood. "You mere Quirkless trash! What right do you have to stand in the same ring as me? Huh!?"
"I-I didn't mean... Kacchan, I wasn't..."
At that moment, the teacher looked back at his notes as if remembering a footnote. "By the way, it's already been confirmed. Wu Xuan has been officially admitted to U.A. High School through special recommendation."
For the third time, the class went dead silent. Ten seconds later, a commotion broke out that dwarfed anything prior.
"Wu... Wu Xuan? That monster got in already?"
"Doesn't he have a disciplinary record? For what he did to..."
"Shh! Bakugo will hear you!"
"No wonder he hasn't been to school. He's already reached the top."
Pop! Crackle!
Bakugo's palms exploded with small, furious bursts of heat. He roared, "Damn it! That bastard! Fine! Once I get into U.A., I'll settle the score once and for all!"
Midoriya sat frozen, his hands clenched tightly under his desk. He's already made it... Wu Xuan-kun is already a Hero...
Tago City. A High-Crime District.
Voom!
BOOM!
CRASH!
In a street littered with oily puddles and rotting garbage, bodies were flying through the air like baseballs hit for home runs. One after another, thugs and gang members involved in the district's drug trade were being smashed into the crumbling brick walls of abandoned buildings.
Wu Xuan stood in the center of the carnage, hands on his hips. [The World] hovered behind him, its golden fists clenched, its upper body shimmering with a menacing aura.
"Is this it? Just more bottom-feeding thugs?" Wu Xuan muttered, his gaze sweeping over the groaning men on the ground.
The criminals who were still conscious scrambled away in a panic, disappearing into dark alleys to escape his sight. Wu Xuan felt a familiar sense of stagnation. He had reached a bottleneck. Beating up street-level trash was no longer providing the resistance needed to evolve [The World]. Even the giant villain from the morning was only a temporary diversion.
Clap... clap... clap... clap.
A slow round of applause echoed from behind him.
Wu Xuan turned to see a middle-aged man in his forties walking toward him. He wore a sharp purple suit and glasses, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was missing a front tooth, and his smile didn't reach his eyes—he practically radiated the aura of a career criminal.
"Wonderful! Truly wonderful!" the man chirped, taking a business card from his pocket. "I'd heard rumors that someone was clearing out the 'trash' in the high-crime zones lately. I never expected to see a young prodigy in action today."
He approached with a greasy sort of grace. "Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Giran. I'm a broker of sorts. I deal in... opportunities."