The week following the entrance exam passed in a haze of anxious waiting and restless energy. Alex found themselves constantly checking the mail, refreshing news websites about U.A., and replaying the practical exam over and over in their mind. They had definitely failed the points-based portion of the test—there was no question about that. While other students had been efficiently destroying robots, Alex had struggled to adapt their quirk to direct combat.
But something about the rescue scenario kept nagging at them. The way their quirk had responded to the crisis, the temporary ability to resonate with multiple people's powers simultaneously—it felt significant in a way that went beyond simple test scores.
"You're overthinking it again," their mother, Yuki Yamamoto, said over breakfast on Thursday morning. She was a gentle woman with graying black hair and warm brown eyes, who worked as a social worker specializing in quirk-related family counseling. "Whatever happens, happens. You did your best."
"But what if my best wasn't good enough?" Alex picked at their toast, anxiety churning in their stomach. "What if I'm not cut out to be a hero?"
Their father, Kenji, looked up from his newspaper. He was a tall man with Alex's distinctive silver-blue hair, though his quirk—Emotional Echo—was much simpler than Alex's complex resonance ability. "Alex, remember what Dr. Sato always says. Your quirk isn't just about combat effectiveness. There are many ways to be a hero."
Alex nodded, but the reassurance felt hollow. U.A. was the most competitive hero school in Japan. Students who got in were supposed to be the best of the best, destined for careers as top pro heroes. Alex's quirk was powerful in its own way, but it didn't exactly scream "Symbol of Peace material."
The sound of the mail slot clicking shut made all three family members freeze. Alex's heart rate immediately spiked, and they felt their quirk automatically picking up their parents' sudden spike of nervous anticipation.
"I'll get it," Yuki said quietly, heading toward the front door.
Alex heard the rustle of papers being sorted, then their mother's sharp intake of breath. "Alex, there's something here from U.A."
The envelope was thick and official-looking, with the distinctive U.A. logo embossed in gold. Alex's hands shook slightly as they carried it to their room, their parents following at a respectful distance.
"Do you want us to stay?" Kenji asked gently.
Alex looked at their parents—two people who had spent years helping them understand and control their quirk, who had supported every dream and weathered every disappointment. "Yeah, please."
They sat on Alex's bed together, the envelope resting on the comforter like a small, rectangular bomb. Alex took a deep breath, trying to center themselves the way Dr. Sato had taught them, then carefully tore open the seal.
Inside was a letter and a small device that looked like a projection tablet. Alex's eyes scanned the letter quickly, their heart sinking with each word.
"I... I didn't get enough points on the written exam to qualify automatically," Alex said, voice barely above a whisper. "But they want me to watch this message before making any final decisions about reapplying next year."
Yuki squeezed Alex's shoulder encouragingly. "Let's see what they have to say."
Alex activated the device, and suddenly their bedroom was filled with a holographic projection of All Might himself, sitting behind a desk in what appeared to be a U.A. office. The Symbol of Peace's warm smile was exactly as Alex remembered from countless news broadcasts and hero documentaries.
"Greetings, young Yamamoto!" All Might's voice boomed with characteristic enthusiasm. "First, let me say that while your written exam scores were indeed below our usual threshold, your practical exam performance has generated quite a bit of discussion among our faculty."
Alex blinked in confusion. Discussion? They had barely managed to destroy any robots at all.
"You see," All Might continued, "U.A.'s entrance exam is designed to test more than just raw combat ability. We're looking for the heart of a true hero—someone who will put others' safety above their own advancement."
The hologram shifted to show security footage from the practical exam. Alex watched in amazement as multiple camera angles captured their rescue of Uraraka, the coordination with other students, and the split-second decision to risk everything for someone else's safety.
"Your actions during the zero-pointer crisis exemplified everything we hope to see in a future hero," All Might said warmly. "But more than that, your unique quirk demonstrated capabilities that our faculty found truly remarkable."
The footage zoomed in on the moment when Alex had resonated with multiple students' emotions and quirks simultaneously. To Alex's surprise, the cameras had captured subtle visual cues they hadn't noticed—a faint shimmer in the air around them, the way their movements had temporarily taken on characteristics of other students' fighting styles.
"Emotional Resonance with temporary quirk echo manifestation," All Might read from what appeared to be a faculty report. "The ability to not only sense and influence emotions, but to temporarily replicate aspects of others' quirks through emotional connection. Truly extraordinary."
Alex's parents exchanged amazed glances. They had known Alex's quirk was unusual, but this level of analysis suggested capabilities far beyond what any of them had imagined.
"Now, I should mention," All Might continued, "that you earned exactly zero points through robot destruction. However, U.A. has a secondary scoring system that most applicants aren't aware of—rescue points, awarded for heroic actions that prioritize others' safety over personal advancement."
The hologram displayed a scoring breakdown that made Alex's eyes widen. Rescuing Uraraka had earned them thirty rescue points. Coordinating with other students to maximize everyone's safety had earned another twenty. Their quick thinking and emotional support for panicking examinees had garnered an additional fifteen points.
"Sixty-five rescue points," All Might announced with obvious pride. "The highest rescue score we've seen in over a decade. Young Yamamoto, you have demonstrated that true heroism isn't about defeating villains—it's about saving people."
Alex felt tears pricking at their eyes. Their quirk, which had always felt like more of a burden than a gift, had apparently impressed the greatest hero of all time.
"Therefore," All Might concluded, "on behalf of U.A. High School's faculty, I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into our hero course. Welcome to Class 1-A, young hero!"
The hologram faded, leaving Alex and their parents sitting in stunned silence. Alex stared at the now-dark device, hardly daring to believe what they had just heard.
"You did it," Yuki whispered, pulling Alex into a fierce hug. "You actually did it."
Kenji wrapped his arms around both of them, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "We're so proud of you, Alex. You've earned this."
Alex let themselves be held, feeling the warmth of their parents' pride and love washing over them through their quirk. For once, the emotional input didn't feel overwhelming—it felt like coming home.
"I can't believe they saw all that in what I did," Alex said, voice muffled against their mother's shoulder. "I thought I had failed completely."
"Sometimes," Yuki said softly, "the things that make us different are exactly what the world needs most."
Later that evening, after the initial excitement had died down and their parents had gone to bed, Alex sat at their desk staring at the acceptance letter. The reality of what lay ahead was starting to sink in. They would be attending the most prestigious hero school in Japan, learning alongside some of the most talented young people in the country.
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
Alex pulled out their phone and scrolled through their contacts until they found Dr. Sato's number. Their therapist had been working with them for three years, helping them understand and control their quirk. If anyone deserved to hear the good news, it was her.
"Alex?" Dr. Sato answered on the second ring, sounding concerned. "Is everything alright? It's quite late."
"I got in," Alex said simply. "U.A. accepted me."
There was a moment of silence, then Dr. Sato's delighted laughter filled the line. "Oh, Alex, that's wonderful! Tell me everything."
Alex recounted the day's events, from their initial disappointment about the written exam scores to All Might's explanation of rescue points and quirk analysis. Dr. Sato listened with the focused attention that had made her such an effective therapist.
"I'm not surprised," she said when Alex finished. "Your quirk has always been about connection and understanding. In a world where many heroes focus primarily on strength and combat ability, your emotional intelligence is exactly what's needed."
"But what if I can't keep up?" Alex asked, voicing their deepest fear. "What if everyone else is so much stronger and faster that I just become a liability?"
"Alex," Dr. Sato said gently, "do you remember what you told me after your quirk first manifested? You said you wished you could turn it off, make it go away so you could be normal."
Alex nodded, even though she couldn't see them. "Yeah, I remember."
"And now?"
Alex considered the question seriously. After today's revelation about their quirk's true potential, after seeing how their emotional resonance had saved lives and impressed the faculty of U.A., their perspective had shifted dramatically.
"Now I think... maybe normal is overrated," Alex said slowly. "Maybe being different is exactly what I'm supposed to be."
"Exactly," Dr. Sato said warmly. "Your quirk isn't a limitation, Alex. It's your greatest strength. And tomorrow, you start learning how to use that strength to help others."
As Alex got ready for bed, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Same silver-blue hair, same heterochromatic eyes, same slightly too-thin build that marked them as someone whose strength lay in intellect rather than physicality. But something fundamental had changed.
For the first time in their life, Alex looked at their reflection and saw a hero looking back.