MHA: The Fictional Hero: All Fiction - Chapter 9

“A Quirk Assessment Test!?” the entire class repeated in unison, their voices overlapping in disbelief.

Ochaco Uraraka hesitantly raised her hand halfway, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. “What about the entrance ceremony? Orientation?”

“Waste of time,” came the flat response from their homeroom teacher. Shota Aizawa, dressed in a black outfit and cocooned in a peculiar greyish scarf, didn’t even glance up as he continued. “If you want to become Pro Heroes, you don’t have the luxury for such niceties.”

‘Yep, definitely an Underground Hero,’ Midoriya Izuku thought to himself, nodding silently in understanding.

Aizawa finally turned toward the group, his expression unreadable. “U.A.'s unique selling point is how unrestricted its education is. And that extends to how we teachers run our classes. You’ve all done these before, right? Physical fitness tests where you weren’t allowed to use your Quirks?”

He raised a small, smartphone-like device. On its screen were eight different physical test categories, neatly listed.

“The government still relies on outdated standards—results averaged from students without Quirks. It’s irrational. But the Ministry of Education is slow to adapt.”

He sighed, then let his gaze drift toward Izuku.

“Midoriya. You ranked first in the entrance exam, didn’t you?”

Izuku instantly noticed the attention he got. He didn’t need Observation Haki to feel the searing heat of Bakugo’s glare boring into the back of his skull. If Aizawa noticed the tension, he gave no sign.

“What was your best result for a softball throw in high school?”

“Sixty meters,” Izuku replied immediately. That had been early—back when he was only in the first quarter of his ten-month training hell.

“Try it now. With your Quirk.” Aizawa gestured toward the throwing ring. “You can use whatever you want—as long as you stay inside the circle.”

Izuku stepped forward, nerves bubbling beneath the surface, and asked, “Sensei, how exactly does the ball track distance? GPS? Or is it using a speed sensor to extrapolate?”

From behind him, he could practically feel Bakugo’s smug amusement—expecting Izuku to crash and burn in front of everyone, still clinging to the delusion that he was Quirkless.

“I’m not telling you that,” Aizawa replied curtly. “Besides, there’s a special rule for you. Your Quirk is versatile—too versatile. You’d be able to tailor each test to perfection and rack up record-breaking scores. But that’s not how the real world works. Life and death decisions happen in seconds.”

He checked the device.

“You have one minute per test. Right now… twenty-eight seconds left.”

“What!?” Izuku yelped, eyes wide. Around him, the class murmured in sympathy and alarm.

“Twenty-six,” Aizawa stated calmly.

‘Damn it… what should I use?’, Izuku’s mind raced. ‘A Teleportation Ability? Only useful if it’s GPS-based… Not reliable… I need something that can physically send the ball for large distances…’

Then it clicked.

With a focused breath, Izuku summoned a manga volume into his hand from seemingly nowhere. Two fingers touched its cover. His hand changed subtly.

“From where did that come?” Someone whispered in the crowd.

Gripping the ball in one hand, he placed his palm against it with the other. In an instant, the ball vanished.

“WHAT!?” the class cried out in shock.

Aizawa’s eyes flicked to his device, scanning the data.

SWOOSH!

A strange paw-print in the dirt appeared beside Izuku, and with a soft thud, the softball reappeared, dropping gently onto the ground next to him.

Peep!

“Knowing your own maximum… That’s the most rational way to begin forming the foundation of a Hero,” Aizawa announced. He held up the display.

‘40,075 kilometers.’

“Whoaaa…”

“He sent it around the planet? Are you serious?!” a boy blurted out, the black lightning-shaped streak in his blond hair twitching with his stunned expression.

“That looked like so much fun!” the pink skinned girl cheered, practically bouncing in place.

“This is awesome!” a muscular guy with red hair added, grinning. “We can go all out with our Quirks? That’s what I’m talking about! The Hero Course lives up to its name!”

“‘It looks fun,’ huh?” Aizawa said dryly, staring down the excited students. “You have three years to become Pro Heroes. Do you plan to carry that attitude the entire time?”

His tone darkened.

“Whoever comes in last place today… will be judged to have no potential—and will be expelled.”

The class froze.

“HUUUUH!?”

Except for one student, who didn’t react with surprise at all.

Bakugo Katsuki was still glaring at Izuku. His expression had changed to one of total shock, and now it burned with something more volatile, more unstable. He probably hadn’t even heard the threat of expulsion.

And just as Izuku expected, it came—

BOOM BOOM

Twin blasts erupted from Bakugo’s palms as he launched forward, teeth bared.

“What the hell’s going on?! Tell me right now, Deku, you bastard!”

Izuku had expected a meltdown, but even he hadn’t anticipated that Bakugo would be dumb enough to launch an attack in front of a Pro Hero teacher. Apparently, the explosive teen still thought this was Aldera High, where he could do whatever he wanted.

Well, if it came to it, Izuku was ready. The Paw-Paw Fruit’s ability was still active.

But before either could make a move, Aizawa's capture scarf uncoiled like a snake. It shot through the air, wrapping tightly around Bakugo’s body mid-charge.

Bakugo’s Quirk sputtered out instantly.

“What the—?! These cloths are hard—!”

“These are special capture weapons,” Aizawa explained coldly, his eyes glowing red with power. “Carbon fiber woven with a unique metal alloy.”

He glared down at Bakugo, who struggled fruitlessly in the bindings.

“Don’t make me keep using my Quirk. I have dry eye.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in awe.

“I knew it! You’re Eraserhead!” he exclaimed. He’d recognized the red eyes, the goggles hidden beneath the scarf—it all made sense.

“Who?” several students muttered, clearly unfamiliar with the name.

Underground Heroes weren’t exactly household names, after all. It took a Hero otaku like Izuku to know them on sight.

‘Wait… is that possible?’, Izuku blinked, observing the effects of Erasure closely. ‘It’s like Zetsu… Bakugo’s entire aura has vanished—his Quirk Factor, even the natural energy he leaks. Could Erasure be forcing someone into a Zetsu state? Would it work on my Nen abilities, too?’

“We’re wasting time,” Aizawa muttered, releasing Bakugo and retracting his scarf. “Next student, get ready.”

Bakugo stood frozen, fury still simmering under the surface.

Izuku seized the opportunity. He stepped closer and whispered just loud enough for Bakugo to hear:

“You’re probably thinking, ‘Deku lied to me,’ or some crap like that. I didn’t. I told you when we were kids—I had a Quirk, I just didn’t know how to activate it.”

His voice was calm. Controlled.

“You chose to be a bully. A villain. And once I unlocked my Quirk last year, I decided none of you at Aldera were worth my time. Grow up, Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s fists trembled. “Don’t act like you’re better than me, Deku! I’ll crush you!”

“We’ll see,” Izuku replied, already walking back toward the others. “Maybe try beating me first before running your mouth.”

Izuku paused for a final jab.

“And tell me, with all the things you used to say to me... do you really think you’re a Hero?”

Their classmates didn’t even notice the exchange. At least most of them. But that was fine.

Izuku hadn’t said it for them.

———

Aizawa made a mistake.

If he had really wanted to pressure Midoriya Izuku during the Quirk Assessment Test, he shouldn’t have shown them the full list of physical events ahead of time. By giving away the test structure from the start, he had made it easy for someone like Izuku who spent most of his Life analyzing Heroes, Quirks, Characters and Powers.

While the first students were busy taking their turns during the 50-meter dash, Izuku had more than enough time to plan out which powers to use for each test.

When the 50-meter dash came up, he secured the top score without even breaking a sweat. No one in class could beat the fastest man alive in a race—because Izuku had copied the powers of the Flash.

With his own test done early, he used the time to watch his classmates. He pulled out his newest Hero notebook, carefully flipping through the pages and leaving blank sections for each student. Aizawa—or rather, Eraserhead—already had a page in one of his older notebooks, but Izuku still added new observations based on what he saw today.

Watching new Quirks in action was fun. Recording and analyzing them made it even better.

Plus, there was the added bonus of annoying Bakugo.

The way Bakugo tensed every time Izuku beat him in another event was almost satisfying. Even better, they were right next to each other on the class roster—alphabetically (Japanese Alphabet). So in almost every test, they were paired together, or Bakugo went right before him, letting Izuku smash his results seconds later.

It was an unintentional setup, but Izuku wasn't complaining.

He turned his attention to a pink-skinned girl racing through the dash. She used her Acid Quirk to slide forward, leaving a sizzling trail behind her.

‘So she produces acid through her skin... Definitely an Emitter-type Quirk. But the pink skin—could that be a result of pigment changes for resistance? Then there are the horns... those seem like a Mutant-type trait. Is it a hybrid Quirk?’

Izuku quickly finished her notes. He didn’t have her name yet, but he’d check the seating chart later.

Another student caught his eye next. A blond boy who had raced against her, the same one he remembered from the entrance exam, fired a beam of light from his navel—but after just a second, he stopped and clutched his stomach.

‘His Quirk hurts him? That’s not normal at this age. He should have adapted by now. Could be stamina-based. Or maybe he's still learning to regulate it? Late Quirk development isn’t common, but it happens.’

Izuku added a few thoughts to his notes, then got up for the grip strength test.

This one was easy. He borrowed Magneto’s powers from the X-Men comics and applied precise control over the metallic measuring device. Instead of just squeezing it, he used magnetism to crush it from the inside.

His score reflected that.

Back on the sidelines, Izuku continued his observations. One of the taller students stepped up for the same test. He wore a face mask and, more notably, manifested multiple arms.

‘He can grow extra limbs. They look like normal arms for now, but can he change their form or size? Maybe add mass—or swap in animal traits? Can he create other body parts if they’re attached to his arms?’

It was all fascinating.

For the standing long jump, Izuku took the simple route and used Happy’s flight power from Fairy Tail to glide through the air. No complications there. The repeated side steps were harder to optimize, but he eventually settled on using Hisoka’s Bungee Gum. By attaching himself to two fixed points, he could bounce back and forth with added speed, clearing the test with no issues.

He’d already completed the ball throw earlier. That one had gone smoothly too.

And Ochako? She got infinity.

By removing the gravity from her ball entirely, she sent it into space. The device maxed out and just displayed “∞” on the screen.

Then came something that caught even Izuku off guard.

A tall girl with a mature build stepped forward, her long black hair tied back into a high, sharp ponytail. A single strand framed the right side of her face. Calm and focused, she opened her Gym Uniform revealing her Stomach—and materialized a cannon.

Yes. A full-sized, working cannon. From her own body.

Izuku nearly dropped his pen.

‘She just created a cannon. Out of nowhere. That means object creation—probably through converting her own cells or stored energy. Could be lipid-based. Is there a limit to what she can build? What about complexity? Can she build machinery with moving parts? If so, this Quirk is insanely versatile. Altough she has to use matter from somewhere else, no way she has enough mass to create a Cannon from her Body.’

He filled half a page in seconds.

Izuku paused to glance at the rest of the class. Most students were doing well, but he couldn’t ignore how unfair this kind of test was for people whose Quirks didn’t translate to physical stats or lacked such versatility. There were a few whose abilities barely helped with even one of the events.

The worst off was a short boy with purple, ball-shaped hair. His Quirk let him detach the balls and make them stick to surfaces—he even bounced off them to improve his side step test. But in most other events, he was struggling.

Izuku noted that height alone was working against him, even before quirks were considered.

There was a dark purple-haired girl with jack-like earlobes. She used them to pull decent numbers in grip strength, but that was about it. And the blonde lightning-user? His Quirk didn’t help with anything here. Neither did Camie’s illusions. Or the girl who was completely invisible. At least that red haired Hardening Quirk user can act reclessly during his Tests besides his great fitness, if the others tried to Jump head first at the end of the 50-meter Dash, they would seriously hurt themselves.

All of the others were at a disadvantage.

Izuku made a mental note: not all heroes were built around raw power. Some were made for stealth, support, or out-of-combat work. A physical test like this wasn’t balanced. It reminded him of the entrance exam all over again.

But then again, like their teacher said. The World wasn’t fair. A fact he learned early on.

Still, as far as Izuku was concerned, this test was full of valuable data. Every student here had something interesting to offer. And that made it all the more exciting.

They had to adapt to the fact that in many Situation they would have to act Quirkless.

Camie had tried to cheat the system, layering an illusion over the display of her testing device to fake higher numbers. Unfortunately for her, the modern, cloud-based UA tech didn’t rely on visual input alone. Her illusions, while impressive to human eyes, didn’t fool the smart sensors embedded in the equipment.

Neither did the Quirk of the invisible Girl help her in any of these Tests.

“Her Quirk would be so amazing for an underground hero…” Izuku thought to himself as he knelt down to assist in the sit-ups section, gently pressing down on someone’s ankles. Someone he couldn’t see besides their clothes.

“Good pace,” he encouraged, glancing down.

The invisible Girl had a surprisingly solid form. No signs of slowing down, controlled breathing, and above all, a determination he couldn’t help but respect.

‘She’s doing well even though she’s basically Quirkless in these tests,’ he thought, mentally comparing her numbers. ‘She must’ve trained hard. I can’t underestimate any of them.’

His thoughts turned inward again. As someone who had developed Observation Haki, and even awakened Nen, Izuku had grown used to perceiving the world through more than just sight.

But Toru… was different. Even her aura felt oddly absent.

As if she was using Zetsu or In.

Everyone gave off trace amounts of aura—even if they weren’t aware of it. Especially those with powerful Quirks, around their Quirk Factors. But when he reached out with his senses…

Nothing. A void. Not suppressed, not hidden. Gone.

‘Could it be… her Quirk is a form of In?’ he wondered, recalling the advanced Nen technique used to hide one’s aura completely. ‘If that’s the case, maybe… Gyo can pierce it.’

It was worth a try.

Focusing his aura into his eyes, Izuku felt his vision sharpen. The world around him pulsed faintly in color, bright edges around Quirks and power signatures lighting up like infrared, becoming sharper and more detailed. He glanced down.

His eyes widened.

The air shimmered… and there she was.

Her skin was soft and luminous, a subtle fair-tan tone that glowed faintly against the fluorescent gym lights. Her hair—long, messy waves—shimmered like glass, chartreuse streaks woven with hints of cotton-candy pink. Her eyes… they were large and bright, with dual-toned irises: yellow near the center, bleeding into teal at the edges. She looked…

“Whoa… Beautiful,” Izuku muttered before he even realized the word had left his lips.

Toru froze mid-sit-up. “Eh?”

She tilted her head slightly, then again the other direction. Izuku’s eyes followed her each time.

“You… You’re looking directly at me?” she whispered. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Uh—yes?” Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a theory I could see you using Gyo. And… well, I was right.”

She blinked.

Then she suddenly raised her hand, holding up three fingers. “How many fingers?”

“Three,” Izuku said without hesitation.

She changed it.

“One.”

“You can really see me!” Her voice was half-gasp, half-giggle, full of disbelief.

“What… what do I look like?” she asked quietly, and that’s when Izuku froze.

‘Wait. She doesn’t… she doesn’t know?’

“You don’t know what you look like?” he asked, his voice hushed.

She shook her head.

“My Quirk turns everything invisible, including reflections. No mirrors. No photos. Not even shadows. I’ve never seen myself. Ever.”

Izuku was silent for a beat. Then he slowly stood, offering a hand.

“I… I could draw you,” he said, voice uncertain. “I’m not a pro, but I do a lot of sketching for my Hero Analysis notebooks. I was already planning to make your page next…”

Years of people calling his notebook obsession “creepy” made him hesitate, unsure how she’d respond.

But her answer was immediate.

“I’d love that,” she said, smiling so brightly it lit the space around her. “Would you really?”

“Of course.” Izuku nodded, now smiling too. “I’ll draw one just for you.”

Toru tilted her head again. “So… what is your Quirk, anyway? It’s really unique. You can see invisible people, use different powers… It’s like you have multiple Quirks.”

“Oh—uh, right,” Izuku replied, scratching his cheek. “I named it All Fiction. I can copy and use abilities from fictional characters. Right now I’m using Gyo from Hunter x Hunter to see you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. That’s awesome! Like, you’re a walking crossover!” she beamed. “Could you… maybe send me a link to that manga? I wanna read how this Nen stuff works!”

“Oh, sure! What’s your name by the way? Just give me your number and—”

He paused.

Crap. He’d walked right into that one.

“Oho~! Look at you, Izu-kun—already asking girls for their numbers?” came a teasing voice from behind.

Camie. Of course it was Camie.

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him into a hug that pressed her sizeable chest firmly against his back. “So bold! I’m kinda impressed”

“It’s not like that, Camie…” Izuku groaned, his cheeks burning.

He had the distinct feeling this was going to be a very common sentence during his time at U.A. University.

“My name is Toru Hakagure!”, Toru, now visible only to Izuku, gave Camie a playful smirk. “Don’t worry. I’ll share,” she said, nudging Izuku with a wink he wasn’t sure Camie could see.

‘Dear god, another one!’