Chapter 9: The Meteor.
The mid-morning sun hung high in the azure sky, casting harsh, defined shadows across the expansive P.E. grounds of U.A. High. The air was still, filled with the scent of dry earth and the nervous perspiration of twenty teenagers standing in a loose formation.
Shota Aizawa stood before them, his posture slouched, looking less like a prestigious educator and more like a man who had just rolled out of a gutter. In his hand, he held a standard white baseball.
"The Department of Education has been procrastinating," Aizawa muttered, tossing the ball up and catching it lazily. "In this country, students are banned from using their Quirks during physical fitness tests. It's irrational. It creates a dataset that doesn't reflect your actual capabilities."
He looked at the class with his dark, tired eyes.
"Here at U.A., we don't follow those outdated protocols. Today, you will undergo a Quirk Apprehension Test. Eight physical events. You are free to use your Quirks to achieve the highest possible result."
"A test on the first day?" Minoru Mineta squeaked, clutching his head. "I knew U.A. was going to be intense, but this is straight into the fire!"
Aizawa ignored the complaint. He pulled a digital device from his pocket.
"Usually, the representative would be the one with the highest entrance exam score. If we combine the written and practical exams, that would be Bakugo. I'm not talking about the class representative, just looking for who will throw this ball."
Katsuki Bakugo straightened his spine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"However," Aizawa continued, his eyes sliding over to the boy with the pink hair. "If we are speaking strictly about the Practical Exam scores... the top rank belongs to Natsu Dragneel."
The class turned to look at Natsu. Even Bakugo's smirk faltered, replaced by a sharp scowl. Natsu just grinned, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Dragneel," Aizawa called out. "In junior high, what was your record for the softball throw?"
Natsu blinked. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Softball? I don't know. We didn't have that in my curriculum. I mostly just... ran around and climbed stuff."
Aizawa sighed. "Irrational. What about the rest of you? Who has thrown a ball for maximum distance without a Quirk?"
"Sixty-five meters," Bakugo stated confidently.
"Are you a monster?" Denki Kaminari whispered, eyes wide. "That's huge for a normal throw."
"I did about eighty meters," Mezo Shoji, the student with multiple arms, rumbled quietly.
"Hah?!" Bakugo whipped around, veins popping on his forehead. "Eighty?! You cheating octopus, that's because you have six arms!"
"I didn't use them for leverage," Shoji replied calmly. "It was a standard throw. We weren't allowed to use our Quirks."
"That is exactly the point," Aizawa interrupted, silencing them. "The system fails to account for your true potential. It limits you to 'normal' standards. But here, you are not normal. You are heroes in training."
He tossed the ball toward Natsu.
"Step into the circle, Dragneel," Aizawa commanded. "Don't leave the perimeter. Other than that, do whatever you need to do."
Natsu caught the ball. It felt light in his hand. He walked to the white painted circle in the center of the field.
Happy floated faithfully by his side, stopping just outside the line. "Show them what you got, Natsu!"
"Heh," Natsu smirked. "Alright. Let's see how far this thing can fly."
Natsu stood in the center of the circle. He took a deep breath, planting his left foot firmly into the dirt. The atmosphere around him shifted. The air grew warmer.
Then, he moved.
It was a display of flexibility that made several students wince in sympathy. Natsu kicked his right leg up—straight up. His body formed a perfect vertical line, his right foot pointing at the zenith of the sky while his left remained rooted. It was a stance of absolute balance and stored kinetic energy.
"Whoa..." Kirishima muttered. "What a flexible."
Natsu pulled his right arm back.
FWOOSH.
A sphere of intense, roaring orange flame ignited around his fist, engulfing the baseball. The heat was palpable, radiating out in waves that distorted the air.
In the crowd, Shoto Todoroki's heterochromatic eyes narrowed sharply. He stared at the flames, his expression unreadable, but his attention completely locked on Natsu.
Natsu's leg snapped down like a whip. He pivoted his waist, channeling every ounce of torque and caloric energy into his arm.
"FIRE DRAGON'S... IRON THROW!!"
BOOM!
He released the ball.
It didn't just fly; it screamed. The sound was like a cannon firing. The ball tore through the air, wrapped in a comet-like tail of fire. A shockwave of warm wind blasted back toward the students, fluttering their gym uniforms.
They watched in awe as the burning projectile ascended, turning into a streak of light against the blue sky. It went higher, and higher, resembling a meteor traveling in reverse.
Aizawa looked down at his handheld measuring device. The numbers climbed rapidly.
200m... 400m... 600m...
Suddenly, at the 620-meter mark, the blip on the screen vanished.
Aizawa tapped the screen. "Hmm."
Up in the sky, the ball had ceased to be a ball. The friction of the speed combined with the intense heat of Natsu's flames had been too much. The leather burned away, the rubber core melted, and the stitching disintegrated. The ball turned into a cloud of ash and smoke, scattering in the wind.
"The ball incinerated in mid-air," Aizawa announced flatly, turning the screen to face the students. "I can't track dust. So, we will cap the record at the last recorded point."
620.0 Meters.
The silence on the field broke instantly.
"620 meters?!!" Kaminari grabbed his head, his jaw practically unhinged. "Are you serious?! That's insane!"
"It's like something out of a comic book!" Toru Hagakure, the Invisible Girl, squealed.
"Fantastic.." Yuga Aoyama struck a pose. "It lacks my sparkle, but it certainly has heat and passion!"
"That looked like so much fun!" Mina Ashido cheered, jumping up and down. "It's like fireworks!"
"I want to try too!" Happy shouted, floating in circles. "Let me throw one! I bet I can get at least ten meters!"
Natsu walked back to the group, grinning and wiping soot from his hand. "Man, that felt good! But I put too much heat into it. I need to control the output next time."
"It looks like these tests are going to be really fun!" Mina laughed again.
"Fun..."
The word hung in the air, heavy and cold.
Aizawa, who had been putting his phone away, froze. His shoulders stiffened. He slowly turned to face the class. The bored, tired expression was gone, replaced by a smile that didn't reach his eyes—a smile that was wide, creepy, and promised nothing but despair.
"Fun, you say?" Aizawa whispered.
The cheering died down. Mina stopped jumping. Happy hid behind Natsu's leg.
"You have three years here to become heroes," Aizawa said, his voice low and raspy. "Three years of grueling training, life-or-death simulations, and hardships. And you think it's going to be 'fun'?"
He glared at them, his dark hair falling over his face.
"Right then. Let's make this interesting. Since you think this is a game..."
He pointed a finger at the group.
"The student who ranks last in total points after all eight events will be judged as having no potential..."
Aizawa's grin widened, revealing a sadistic delight.
"...and will be instantly expelled."
"EH?!!"
The collective scream of Class 1-A echoed across the campus. The excitement vanished, instantly replaced by the cold, hard reality of U.A. High.
"Expelled?!" Ochaco Uraraka cried out, her face pale. "But it's the first day! That's... that's too unreasonable!"
"Natural disasters, villain attacks, catastrophic accidents..." Aizawa listed off, ignoring her plea. "The world is full of unreasonable things. Heroes are the ones who overturn those situations. If you wanted a fun hang-out with friends, you went to the wrong school."
He turned back to the field.
"Welcome to the Department of Heroics."
.
.
.
Aizawa turned on his heel, the heavy fabric of his capture scarf rustling as he prepared to instruct the students on the first event. He had successfully instilled fear, crushed their optimism, and set the tone for a brutal academic year. Or so he thought.
FWOOOSH.
The sound was unmistakable—like a gas main rupturing and igniting instantly. A wave of dry, searing heat washed over the class, causing the air to shimmer.
Aizawa froze. He stopped mid-step, his eyes twitching, and slowly looked over his shoulder.
Natsu Dragneel was not trembling in fear. He was not despairing over the threat of expulsion. Instead, his entire body was engulfed in a roaring, chaotic aura of magical-looking fire. He stood with his legs apart, fists clenched, looking at his classmates with a grin that threatened to split his face in two.
"WOOOOOOAH!!" Natsu screamed, the fire rising higher with his voice. "I'M ALL FIRED UP!!!!"
"Too hot! Too hot!" Mina Ashido yelped, hopping away from him and shielding her face with her arms. She looked at him with utter disbelief. "Are you crazy?! We just got threatened with expulsion! How are you excited about getting kicked out?!"
Hanta Sero, a boy with plain looks and strange cylindrical protrusions on his elbows, sighed. He held his hands up in a gesture of resignation.
"Well, look at the stats," Sero said, shrugging. "He got the top score in the practical exam. He just threw a ball over 600 meters. He knows the 'last place' rule won't apply to him. He's safe, so he will never understand us."
Zip.
The flames around Natsu vanished instantly.
"I heard that!"
Natsu marched over to Sero. The sudden proximity made Sero flinch, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
"W-what now?" Sero stammered, leaning back.
"You..." Natsu grabbed Sero's arms, lifting them up and inspecting them with rude curiosity. "Your arms are weirdly long! They're longer than my legs! And you're complaining?!"
He poked the tape dispenser on Sero's elbow. "And what are these? Do they shoot bullets? You got weird elbows, man!"
"Hey! Quit poking me!" Sero protested.
Natsu's expression suddenly turned serious. He released Sero's arms and grabbed the front of his blue gym tracksuit, lifting the lanky boy onto his toes.
"Listen up, Elbow-Guy!" Natsu barked, staring straight into Sero's eyes. "Don't you dare slack off! Just because you think you might be safe doesn't mean you stop trying! Only a lazy bum takes the last seat without a fight!"
Sero looked at the intense fire in Natsu's onyx eyes. He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Dude, you're way too intense! Just... let go of my shirt first, alright?"
Mina sighed loudly, placing a hand on her hip. "And there it is. That's Natsu for you." She shook her head. "This is exactly why he got into so many fights in elementary school. He never knows when to shut up and just let people be."
Natsu dropped Sero and spun around to face her. "That's not true, they loved me back then!"
"That was entirely in your imagination," Mina deadpanned. "They were terrified of you."
"Enough."
Aizawa's voice cut through the bickering like a knife. He walked toward the starting line of the track, holding a tablet.
"If you have enough energy to argue and manhandle your classmates, Dragneel, then you have enough energy to run."
Aizawa pointed a finger at Natsu, then shifted it to point at a tall, bespectacled student who looked like he was made of engines and discipline.
"First event: 50-Meter Dash," Aizawa announced. "Dragneel. You're up."
He looked at the tall boy.
"And running alongside you will be Tenya Iida."
Iida adjusted his glasses, the sunlight glinting off the lenses. He stepped forward, the engines in his calves gleaming.
"Understood, Sensei!" Iida shouted, chopping his hand through the air. He looked at Natsu with intense competitive spirit. "I will not lose, even to the top ranker!"
Natsu grinned, cracking his knuckles as fire sparked around his fingers. "Bring it on, Engine-Legs!"
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