chapter 1
The clock in the common room struck 5:15 PM.
Mina tapped her foot impatiently, her phone clutched in one hand as she sent another message. “Ugh, where is he? We’re gonna miss the good slots if we wait any longer!”
“He’s not even answering his texts,” Sero chimed in, glancing at his phone.
“Maybe he forgot?”
“That idiot’s probably asleep or playing video games,” Bakugou growled, his arms crossed. His sharp gaze flicked toward the hallway leading to the dorm rooms.
“We’ll get him. I’m not waiting around all night.”Kirishima, who had been leaning casually against the couch, frowned slightly. “I dunno, guys. Maybe he’s just not feeling up to it? We should’ve asked him earlier.”
Mina spun on her heel, grabbing Kirishima by the arm as she headed for the stairs. “You’re always so nice, Kirishima! If he doesn’t wanna go, he can tell us to our faces. Let’s just get him and find out.”
The group made their way up to Denki’s room. Mina led the charge, her cheery energy bouncing off the sterile dorm walls. Kirishima followed with a hesitant expression, while Sero and Bakugou trailed behind.
Sero idly looked around, taking in the various signs of life in the dormitory—the music faintly leaking from a neighboring room.
Bakugou, however, was less patient. “Move it, Raccoon eyes,” he snapped. “We’re not here to sightsee.”
“Relax, Bakubabe,” Mina teased as she reached Denki’s door. She knocked loudly, her pink knuckles rapping against the wood.
“Denki! You’re late, and we’re heading to karaoke! Open up!”
No response.
“See? He’s not here. Let’s go,” Bakugou grumbled.
Mina knocked again, this time louder.
“Denki! Come on! Don’t make us break the door down!”Still nothing.
“Think he fell asleep?” Sero offered, though his tone was doubtful.
Mina reached for the handle and twisted it. The door was unlocked. “Guess we’ll find out,” she said as she pushed it open.
The room was immaculate, the bed made with military precision. A faintly sweet citrus scent lingered, and Denki’s desk was spotless save for a few neatly stacked notebooks.
The group stepped inside, their movements tentative.“Everything’s so... tidy,” Mina observed. “That’s not like him at all.”
“See? He’s out. Let’s leave,” Bakugou said, his tone sharp.
“Or maybe he’s got something going on,” Mina countered.
Her eyes darted around the room, and she moved toward the desk.
Kirishima tensed. “Mina, we’re just here to grab him, not go through his stuff.”
“I’m not going through anything!” she said defensively. “I’m just looking!"
“Still feels wrong,” Kirishima muttered.
Sero, who had been glancing around aimlessly, suddenly stopped. He tilted his head and pointed up. “Hey, uh... what’s that?”
All eyes followed his gesture. A ceiling tile in the corner of the room was slightly out of place, and a dark shape jutted out—a book.
“What the hell’s that doing up there?” Bakugou asked, his tone harsh.
“Let’s grab it,” Sero said, pulling over a chair.
“Seriously? This is not so our business,” Kirishima said nervously.
Mina ignored him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as Sero handed her the book. It was leather-bound and scuffed, the cover devoid of any title. She flipped it open, her brow furrowing as she scanned the text.
“Whoa... what is this?” she muttered.
“What?” Bakugou demanded.
“It’s... weird. It’s like... super formal.” Mina flipped a few pages.
“It’s all observations. Like a journal or something.”
Kirishima tensed. “If it’s a diary, we should put it back. That’s way too personal.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not your call,” Bakugou snapped. “What’s it say?”
Mina ignored both of them, turning to the first entry.
She cleared her throat and began to read aloud.
Journal of Denki Kaminari
Dated: Entrance Examination Day
"The day began with the gates of U.A. Academy opening to the hopeful and the ambitious. It was an impressive sight: students from all walks of life gathering to prove themselves worthy of the mantle of hero.
However, it was not the spectacle of the day that intrigued me, but the underlying design of the trials we faced.
The written exam was straightforward, designed to test our grasp of hero ethics, scientific theory, and decision-making under pressure. Its purpose was clear: to weed out those who lacked the intellectual foundation to carry the title of hero. But it was the practical exam that revealed U.A.'s true nature.
We were guided to a sprawling urban arena, populated with mechanical adversaries of varying size and complexity.
The rules were simple: eliminate robots to earn points. Yet, it was clear to me from the beginning that these rules were but a surface layer, designed to test more than brute strength or flashy quirks.
The 'Zero Pointer,' a towering machine worth no points, was the key to the test. Its massive size and menacing appearance encouraged avoidance, but that was the point. Those who fled showed pragmatism; those who risked themselves to save others in its shadow displayed the spirit of true heroes.
The scoring system itself held a hidden layer. Points were awarded not only for destruction but for rescue and collaboration. This was made clear by the announcer. Thus, even those without combat-oriented quirks had the opportunity to shine.
My observations during the trial were illuminating. A tall, broad-shouldered boy with glasses displayed impeccable precision, his actions revealing a mind ruled by logic and order. In contrast, a dark-haired girl demonstrated a creativity and resourcefulness that hinted at both intellect and adaptability. But most remarkable was a boy with wild green hair, who defied all logic. Despite possessing no visible power, he leaped into danger, risking his life to save another. Such actions revealed his moral compass to be unshakeable, though at great cost to his physical well-being.
These observations have proven invaluable, highlighting not only the structure of the exam but also the caliber of individuals this institution seeks to cultivate. Heroism, as I have learned, is not solely about strength or speed. It is about sacrifice and a willingness to act in the face of overwhelming odds."
The room was silent as Mina finished reading.
“Okay,” Sero said slowly. “That’s... not how I thought Denki wrote.”
“This doesn’t even sound like him,” Mina added, flipping through more pages. “Why is he writing like he’s reporting to someone?”
Kirishima shifted uncomfortably. “Guys, maybe we should just put it back. This feels... wrong.”
“Wrong or not, this is weird as hell,” Bakugou said, narrowing his eyes at the journal.
No one moved to close the book.