The auditorium was a sea of nervous energy that threatened to drown Alex before the exam even began. Nearly a thousand prospective students filled the vast space, their collective anxiety creating an emotional undertow that pulled at Alex's consciousness like a riptide.
"HELLO THERE, LISTENERS!" Present Mic's voice boomed through the speakers, causing several students to jump. His enthusiasm radiated from the stage in waves of genuine excitement and showmanship. "WELCOME TO U.A.'S ENTRANCE EXAM!"
Alex gripped the armrests of their seat, trying to focus on Present Mic's explanation of the practical exam while filtering out the emotional noise around them. The pro hero's passion for his work was infectious, but it was nearly overwhelmed by the crackling tension from the audience.
"The exam will take place in one of our replica city districts," Present Mic continued, gesturing to a large screen displaying the test site layout. "You'll be facing three types of faux villains, each worth different points based on their difficulty level!"
Alex's heterochromatic eyes studied the displayed robots. One-pointers, two-pointers, and three-pointers—all designed to test combat abilities and quick thinking. But as Present Mic explained the rules, Alex couldn't help but worry. Their quirk wasn't built for direct combat. How were they supposed to destroy robots by sensing emotions when robots didn't have any?
A student with blue hair and glasses shot up from his seat. "Excuse me, sir, but your explanation included four types of villains, not three! Such imprecise communication is unbecoming of U.A.!"
Iida Tenya's sense of justice and propriety blazed so strongly that Alex could feel it from several rows away. The boy was genuinely upset by what he perceived as inconsistency, his emotions radiating righteousness and concern for accuracy.
"Ah, good catch!" Present Mic grinned. "The fourth robot is worth zero points—it's just an obstacle to avoid. Think of it as a trap!"
Alex noticed Midoriya sinking lower in his seat a few rows ahead, embarrassment and anxiety pouring off him in waves. Iida had apparently called him out for muttering during the presentation, and the emotional aftermath was painful to witness. There was something about Midoriya's emotional signature that fascinated Alex—layers upon layers of complexity that seemed far too deep for someone their age.
"Alright, listeners! You'll have ten minutes to show us what you've got! Plus Ultra!"
As the students began filing out toward the testing areas, Alex felt the competitive atmosphere shift into something sharper, more focused. The collective nervousness was crystallizing into determination, with undercurrents of rivalry and desperation.
Alex was assigned to Test Site C, along with about fifty other students. The mechanical gates loomed ahead of them, beyond which lay a meticulously crafted replica of a city district complete with buildings, streets, and hiding spots for the robot villains.
While waiting for the exam to begin, Alex tried to calm their racing heart and formulate a strategy. Their quirk allowed them to sense emotions within a fifty-meter radius, and they'd been training to extend that range under stress. More importantly, Dr. Sato had helped them develop techniques for emotional resonance—temporarily connecting with others' feelings to enhance their own abilities.
If I can resonate with other examinees' determination and courage, Alex reasoned, maybe I can push past my own limitations.
"BEGIN!" Present Mic's voice echoed across all test sites simultaneously.
The gates burst open, and chaos erupted. Students charged forward with quirks blazing—fire, ice, creation, transformation, and dozens of others Alex couldn't immediately identify. The emotional landscape shifted dramatically from anticipation to fierce competition.
Alex hung back for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity. The other students' battle-lust and determination crashed over them like a wave, but instead of blocking it out, Alex tried something different. They opened themselves to the collective resolve around them, letting it fuel their own courage.
The effect was immediate and intoxicating. Suddenly, Alex felt faster, stronger, more confident. They sprinted into the urban testing ground, their enhanced situational awareness allowing them to track the emotional signatures of other examinees and predict where conflicts were occurring.
A one-pointer robot rounded the corner ahead, its mechanical eyes scanning for targets. Alex dove behind a car just as another examinee—a girl with a creation quirk—engaged it with some kind of staff weapon. Her focused determination was like a beacon, and Alex found themselves drawn to it.
Without fully understanding how, Alex felt their quirk extending beyond its normal parameters. The girl's confidence and tactical thinking seemed to flow into them, and suddenly Alex could see the robot's weak points as clearly as if they'd studied its schematics.
"The joint behind its left knee!" Alex called out instinctively.
The girl pivoted and struck exactly where Alex had indicated. The robot toppled, sparks flying from its damaged joint.
"Nice call!" she shouted before moving on to the next target.
Alex stared at their hands in amazement. They'd never experienced anything like that before—it was as if they'd temporarily borrowed not just the girl's emotions, but some aspect of her tactical knowledge as well.
There was no time to analyze the phenomenon. A two-pointer robot was bearing down on a younger-looking boy who'd been separated from the main group. The kid was radiating pure terror, frozen in place as the mechanical villain approached.
Alex acted on instinct, reaching out with their quirk to sense the emotional state of nearby examinees. There—a student with what looked like an explosion quirk was radiating confidence and aggressive determination. Alex opened their mind to that feeling, letting it flood through them.
The sensation was incredible. For a moment, Alex felt as if they could take on anything. They charged toward the robot, and somehow—impossibly—their hands erupted in small explosive bursts similar to what they'd sensed from the other student.
The robot's sensors swiveled toward Alex, but the borrowed explosions were enough to damage its visual array and send it careening into a wall. Alex stumbled, the foreign power fading as quickly as it had come, leaving them drained and confused.
"What the hell was that?" Alex whispered, staring at their singed hands.
Around them, the exam continued with mechanical efficiency. Robots fell to student attacks while points tallies climbed higher and higher. Alex managed to destroy two more one-pointers using their developing technique of emotional resonance, each time temporarily borrowing aspects of other students' quirks along with their feelings.
But as the ten-minute timer ticked down, Alex realized they were falling behind. Most of the serious competitors had already racked up impressive point totals, while Alex was still figuring out how their quirk could be applied to combat situations.
With three minutes remaining, a massive shadow fell across the testing ground. The zero-pointer robot—a towering mechanical giant easily three stories tall—had activated and was slowly making its way through the district, destroying everything in its path.
Students scattered in every direction, their competitive determination instantly replaced by primal fear. The emotional shift was so sudden and intense that Alex dropped to their knees, overwhelmed by the collective terror.
But through the chaos, Alex heard something that cut through the noise like a knife—a scream of genuine distress. Not the manageable fear of the exam, but real, desperate terror from someone in actual danger.
Alex looked up to see a girl with brown hair trapped under a piece of debris near the zero-pointer's path. She was injured, unable to move, and radiating the kind of helpless panic that comes with facing imminent death.
Every instinct told Alex to run, to get to safety like everyone else. But as they felt the girl's terror mixing with their own fear, something else began to build inside them—a fierce protective instinct that had nothing to do with points or passing grades.
This was what being a hero really meant.