Chapter Text
The ground seemed to lurch beneath Emi’s feet as the mass of students surged forward all at once, a tide of bodies and Quirks exploding into motion. The roar of the crowd swelled, noise cresting as dust and heat kicked up from the starting line.
Emi ran.
Not recklessly. Never recklessly.
But with measured speed. Efficient stride, controlled breathing and arms close to her sides. Emi ran the way she always did when it mattered: compact, deliberate, conserving motion even as the crowd roared around her.
Her mind split anyway. Part of her counting steps and distance, part of her already drifting outward and tracking movement that wasn’t her own. She forced her focus forward just as the ground trembled beneath her feet and skidded to an abrupt halt.
For a heartbeat, the stadium fell away.
Robots. The same towering, jointed at the shoulders and knees in all the places that made them hardest to knock down. The same red sensors for eyes. The same heavy footfalls that rattled her bones.
The entrance exam.
Her pulse spiked before she could stop it. Not fear exactly. More like recognition. Her body remembered the weight of their shadows and the way time had compressed around every decision back then.
They haven’t changed, her mind supplied automatically. But the field has.
Her Quirk stirred, quiet but insistent, like a hand pressing at the back of her skull. Information began to layer itself over the scene. Angles of approach, collision zones, paths students were already choosing without realizing it. She saw where the robots would bottleneck the crowd, where panic would slow people down more effectively than the machines ever could.
Someone screamed as a robot’s foot slammed down too close for comfort. Emi didn’t look. She didn’t need to. She already knew where it landed.
Too slow there, she thought distantly. Overcommitted.
The realization came with a flicker of unease. She wasn’t fully present. Her awareness had stretched outward, snagging on everything at once; cataloguing threats that weren’t hers to handle. Emi clenched her jaw, forcing her attention back into her legs, her breath and the ground beneath her feet.
Move. You have to move. Run first. Analyze later.
Then the temperature dropped.
Ice raced across the ground in a blinding sweep, spreading outward from Todoroki in a glimmering wave. The robots froze mid-stride, joints locked solid..
Emi skidded as the ice reached her feet, boots scraping for traction. Around her, people stumbled, crashed, swore. Someone went down hard, sliding helplessly until they slammed into a frozen robot.
Area denial, Emi thought, adjusting her path. Effective, but indiscriminate.
Explosions caught her peripheral vision and she veered toward a narrow gap between two frozen machines, nearly colliding with Bakugou when he landed hard in front of her.
The blonde shot her a sharp look, eyes blazing. “Don’t slow me down.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Emi replied, unbothered by his harshness; too busy calculating her path through or around the robots.
For a split second, she caught him studying her. Not her face, but her footing. Her posture and the way she’d adjusted to the ice without panic.
“Tch.” He smirked. “Try to keep up.”
Bakugou launched himself forward in a concussive burst. Emi tracked his trajectory automatically. Angle, distance and recovery time. He bared his teeth in some feral fashion as he blasted upward, clearing the robots entirely in a series of controlled detonations.
She ran through a gap and cleared the robot field with minimal damage. But the delay cost her. Dozens of students streamed past, momentum carrying them forward. Her Quirk stirred, subtle at first. Awareness sharpening. Patterns snapping into place. She felt it like pressure behind her eyes.
The second obstacle narrowed the field brutally.
A yawning canyon split the ground ahead of them, its depth obscured by drifting dust and shadow. Thin tightropes stretched across the gap, swaying faintly in the open air with just enough movement to punish hesitation.
Emi reached the edge moments after Ashido, Ochaco, and Tsu.
“When did they even have time to build something like this?” Ochaco breathed, peering down.
Tsu ribbited softly, lips curling into a small, knowing smile. Without another word, she crouched and sprang forward; hands snapping out to grip the rope with practiced precision. Her sticky fingers latched on instantly, and she zipped across the canyon in a smooth, efficient blur.
“Wow,” Ashido muttered. “She makes it look easy.”
Emi tracked Tsu’s movement automatically. Minimal sway. Excellent recovery. Quirk perfectly suited for narrow traversal. “She’s fast,” she said quietly.
A voice cut in behind her. Loud, delighted, and completely unbothered by the drop. “Finally! This is my chance to show off what I can do!”
Emi turned.
The girl barreling toward them looked like she’d been assembled out of spare parts and enthusiasm. Pink hair twisted into thick, unruly locks. Oversized goggles obscuring her eyes. A bulky pack strapped to her back, bristling with wires and vents, and reinforced boots that hummed faintly with contained power.
For half a second, Emi’s brain misfired.
Not a Hero Course student, her Quirk supplied immediately. Support. High-risk prototype loadout. Self-developed.
She looked less like a competitor and more like one of the robots from the first obstacle—only louder.
“My support items are gonna steal the spotlight from these wannabe heroes!” the girl declared, throwing her arms wide. “Observe what my babies can do! Wire arrows and hover soles!”
Ashido squinted. “Wait. Support Course? How come you get all that stuff?”
The girl grinned, feral and unapologetic. “Hero students get combat training and flashy Quirks,” she said. “So to keep things fair, we’re allowed to bring whatever gadgets we build ourselves into the games!”
Emi felt her Quirk sharpen.
No safety limiter, she noted. Experimental tech. Recruitment-oriented behavior.
“This obstacle is perfect,” the girl continued, practically vibrating. “Companies are watching. Every move is data.”
Before anyone could respond, the device at her waist whirred to life. Two compact, missile-like projectiles launched forward with a sharp thunk, arcing cleanly across the canyon before anchoring into the cliff on the far side.
The girl floated upward, boots humming as she hovered a few feet off the ground. “Time to shine!”
She pulled a trigger. The wires snapped taut, yanking her across the gap in a smooth, exhilarating glide. Her laughter rang out; unrestrained and triumphant as she landed on the opposite side and threw her arms up.
Emi stared after her, chest tight with something like awe. She’s not competing. She’s advertising.
Ochaco blinked. “That’s… allowed?”
Ashido whistled. “These support kids are scary.”
Emi stepped forward toward the rope, her focus narrowing again. They build the future, she thought. And they don’t need permission to do it.
Balance-focused Quirks excel. Others will overcorrect.
“C’mon, Emi! Ochaco called, flashing a determined smile. “You can do this!”