Chapter Text
This was, most definitely, not fun.
As Hanta slunk onto the bus that would take him to the testing center, Kirishima, who had been tailing him like a loyal puppy, piped up. “Soooo, I was thinking” He began. Don't hurt yourself, Hanta thought to himself, rolling his eyes as he settled down in his seat, not bothering to buckle his seatbelt. Kirishima took his silence as an invitation to continue. “I don't really have a flashy offensive quirk, really my quirk is sorta lame… so what would you think of a team-up?” Kirishima beamed, holding out his hand “We could try and take these robots out together?”. Wow, how dumb is this idiot? Hanta thought. He shook the offered hand anyway. Might as well get an idea of what his quirk is, and any information on potential classmates will be useful, he reasoned to himself.
“Great!” Kirishima crowed, punching the air. Hanta waited expectantly for any explanation of the redhead’s abilities, the edges of his mouth tilted upwards in an amused smile. “What's the matter, do I have something on my face?” Kirishima said, tilting his head. Hanta almost felt sorry for him, the redhead looked so confused. “Ohhh, my quirk?” Kirishima said, as if he had discovered the secret of the universe. Hanta nodded curtly, giving an exasperated sigh internally.
Kirishima held up one of his arms, pushing his sleeve back. As Hanta watched, the spiky haired boy’s skin seemed to change, resembling some kind of crystal. The color was still the same, but it seemed… sharper, and more shiny. Hanta reached out to touch the strange material, and found it to feel like a rock, hard and durable. “Pretty lame, right?” Kirishima said, dropping the hardening. Hanta shook his head, looking up at Kirishima with a pointed grin. “Nah, I know plenty of people who would kill to have that kinda quirk.” Literally.
Kirishima chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, what’s your quirk?” He said, with a renewed vigor and a curious shine in his eye. Hanta’s grin widened, and he held up his arm, pulling out a piece of tape. Kirishima practically vibrated with excitement, if Hanta focused, he thought he could hear a faint buzz. “That's so COOL!” Kirishima exclaimed, unable to contain his bursting excitement. Even Hanta had to admit, somewhere in his cold, dead heart, he felt some kind of endearment for the redhead, like one might have for a small puppy or kitten.
As the bus hissed to a stop, creaking ominously, the examinees stood up, making their way to the windows where they were faced with an enormous gate marked with a large, peeling, yellow “C”. Hanta supposed this was the testing center. The bus doors opened with a slow whine, and a great tidal wave of children swept through them, Hanta being swept along with the current.
The crowd came to a halt in front of the huge concrete doors. As they began to mingle, Kirishima made his way over to Hanta. “So… you got a strategy or something like that? I’m not too bright on that front” He chuckled. Hanta scratched his head. Guillotine was a master strategist, but Hanta was just another dumb teenager. He shrugged, putting forward a sheepish smile. “I could try and slingshot you through those robots, I guess.” He said. Kirishima paused for a moment, then grinned, giving Hanta two thumbs up “Sounds great!”. How dumb is he?, Hanta wondered again, before that thought process was interrupted by the large, screeching whine of gears grinding against one another.
As the kids searched for the source of the noise, the large, emblazoned gates began to split apart, the examinees got a good look at the interior. Huge, dark buildings towered above the concrete streets, dwarfing the and small one and two point robots milling about, which seemed like mere ants. Beyond this, however, the area seemed largely barren, just an empty, run down city. Hanta grinned. This was where he would be able to shine. Kirishima smiled alongside him, though probably not for the same reasons, at least, hopefully.
“C’mon, let’s get to the front so we can get a headstart!” The redhead exclaimed excitedly. Hanta followed the spiky haired boy, weaving between people with seemingly endlessly diverse quirks. He passed one kid who seemed to have grapes for hair, and another who was covered in bandages. As the front of the group got closer and closer, the squeal of the gates sliding apart shuddered to a halt, and, almost immediately, the air filled with a crackling static noise.
“Ready, examinees? Well, let's go!!!”
Wasting no time at all, Hanta shot off, grabbing Kirishima’s arm as he passed. As he ran, he heard, echoing through the tight quarters, a warning to the other examinees, something about “heroes not getting any warning”. Bullshit, Hanta thought to himself, Those jackasses get plenty of warning. Spying his first target, a roughly two meter high robot with a large, white two painted on the front, he gave Kirishima a manic grin, before using his tape to swing the male, like a makeshift flail, at the hunk of metal.
The exam mostly went the same way, with Hanta using his tape to swing Kirishima around, destroying robots and rubble as they went along. Due to Kirishima’s… cheerful attitude, they even managed to rescue a few people who were about to be crushed by robots or pieces of rubble. Not until the very end was the huge, terrifying zero-pointer to be seen. Hanta took one look at the enormous, hulking metal colossus, and ran in the opposite direction, using his tape to pull himself and Kirishima onto a shorter nearby building, where they continued their hunt for smaller prey.
As Present Mic announced the end of the test, Kirishima smiled up at Hanta, as the latter helped the former up after destroying their final robot. “We make a pretty good team!”, Kirishima exclaimed as they began to walk towards the large exit in distance, “I hope we both get into the same class!” Hanta hummed in acknowledgement. The two continued walking in companionable silence, even boarded the same bus, but no words were exchanged. Eventually, they parted ways at the train station, both going in a different directions. Hanta felt lucky. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had an actual conversation.