Chapter Text
The written exam was…easy. Worryingly so.
There had to be a catch…there had to. UA’s written exams were known to be tricky and subversive, but while there were plenty of traps that would catch the unprepared examinee unaware, Izuku couldn’t spot the twists that everyone on the forums talked about.
Still, no matter how many times Izuku anxiously checked the paper, he couldn’t find the ‘crazily difficult trick questions’ that had cost many people their spots in the heroics course.
But, well, if such many people couldn’t spot the trick questions, then what chance did a Deku like him have of doing it?
He could rewind and redo the paper, but what was the point when he had already triple-checked it and still couldn’t spot what was wrong?
All Izuku could do was let go of his unease and continue onto the truly difficult part of the exam—the practical.
UA’s heroics course entrance exam was split into two portions—the written exam (which consisted of 40% of the final score) and the practical exam (which consisted of 60% of the final score). Those who did well in the practical were almost certainly guaranteed a spot in the heroics course, but for those who did not have completely combat-orientated quirks—which was most people—the written portion could be their saving grace or the final blow that struck down their dreams.
All of that was easily revealed by the numerous online forums about this exact topic.
Izuku fit snugly into the latter category, which was why he was so anxious about doing well in the written exam. Now that he might have missed every single trick question, he had to do extremely well in the practical.
Sure, he could go into gen ed and transfer over through the Sports Festival, but his chance of winning the Sports Festival was even slimmer than acing the practical.
Along with the rest of the examinees, Izuku was herded into an auditorium, where Present Mic explained the practical exam. Izuku would certainly fanboy over the Voice Hero’s appearance once he felt like he wasn’t going to kneel over from anxiety. Right now, though, he was entirely focused on the exam, with his mouth firmly shut and his hands itching for a pencil—Izuku had finally put in the effort to quit his muttering habit a while back, lest anyone find out about the details to his quirk; and with Kacchan glaring daggers next to him, he didn’t dare utilize the stack of notebooks in his lap.
The practical was different every year, but the base components were always the same. Izuku had engraved a list into his mind: (a) the exam always favored combative quirks (to the surprise of no one on the forums); (b) the exam proctors had a strange habit of not giving any warning before the start of the exam; (c) there were rescue points.
The rescue points was the most important part. According to the forums, they were never officially declared to be part of the exam. However, the teachers gave additional points to anyone who helped other candidates at their own detriment.
These rescue points were supposed to be a secret, so naturally everyone on the Internet knew about them.
Izuku assumed the other candidates knew about them too, which meant he had to be careful when using his quirk. He couldn’t entirely rely on the rescue points either, but he hoped actively gaining rescue points would be enough to give him an edge.
Robots.
Why did it have to be robots?
They were waiting tensely in front of the fake city where the practical would take place. Izuku could hear equal murmurs of dissent and excitement in the crowd. He was definitely in the former group, but…well, his life had never been fair. He hadn’t expected this exam to be easy.
Still, having to fight robots with nothing but his bare hands was definitely on the lower spectrum of his luck.
Kacchan would have fun blasting them apart, though.
Izuku could see Uraraka in the crowd, but he didn’t want to bother her more than he already had by needing her rescue.
Then, the gigantic gates to the exam grounds swung open. With a shout from Present Mic, Izuku bolted as if Kacchan was hot on his tail.
To his surprise, none of the other examinees followed him. Just as he began worrying if his information was wrong after all, the rest of the candidates surged in like a tsunami.
Izuku could barely keep his lead.
Before long, he reached the first cluster of robots—four one-pointers. As the robots turned their gazes on him, Izuku froze.
Shit. He hadn’t planned this far.
How was he supposed to disable them?
Suddenly, a beam of light shot through the robots, instantly destroying them. A French-sounding boy preened at him, before turning away to deal with another robot.
Huh, his quirk looked—focus!
Wait. Izuku narrowed his gaze on the metal scraps that formerly made up the one-pointers. He could use them.
Grabbing a sizable scrap from the pile, he turned to a two-pointer. It was turned away from him, instead towering over another examinee. Ignoring the jagged edges of the metal that cut into his arms, Izuku jabbed the scrap into the wiring of the robot, which promptly fell apart.
One down, several dozens more to go.
He gave a hand to the fallen candidate to help her up. The candidate gave him a grateful smile and sped off.
Izuku shifted his grip on the scrap. It was heavy. Damnit, he hadn’t focused on strength in his exercises.
…maybe if he took a smaller piece?
Izuku selected a long, jagged piece from the variety of scraps that now littered the exam grounds. The fake city currently looked like an impromptu junkyard, which it kind of was.
The metal scrap was shaped like a sword. The sharp edges made his palms bleed sluggishly, but it would also make cutting the wiring of the robots easier.
It’d do.
Izuku was glad he had trained his speed and stamina. Because, as it turned out, the robots could shoot lasers.
He couldn’t remember Present Mic talking about that detail.
He ducked another blast from a three-pointer that had cornered a candidate. Izuku had thrown a rock at it to attract its attention, at which point the candidate had promptly scampered away.
Except it turned out someone had outfitted guns onto the three-pointers. Izuku couldn’t get close enough to stab it with his impromptu sword. The smaller piece of metal allowed him more maneuverability, but not enough to disable this robot.
The robot shot another beam at Izuku. He ducked.
A boom resounded behind his back. Izuku turned to find a passing two-pointer reduced to another pile of scrap metal by the stray beam.
Oh, huh. A happy accident.
The heat of a beam grazed his shoulder. Izuku cursed. He had already spent too much point on this three-pointer; he had to focus.
Suddenly, the robot floated into the sky, only to drop back onto the ground with a loud sound. Uraraka waved at him behind the disabled robot.
Izuku breathed a sigh of relief.
The examinee was bleeding, blood rushing from the deep cut on their thigh. Not that Izuku was doing much better, but they clearly didn’t know how to deal with it.
Izuku should’ve brought his first aid kit. All he currently had was his switchblade and his grimy shirt. Maybe the candidate’s shirt instead…? No, it seemed somehow worse off than his own—quite a feat.
With his knife, Izuku cut a swath of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. He’d lose a shirt, but it’d be worth it.
He quickly bandaged the wound. It’d hold until the end of the exam. Probably.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be infected.
Izuku stabbed another two-pointer that was creeping up on a candidate. They did that a lot.
He hadn’t had to use his quirk yet. With the way the practical was going…should he retake the exam? He knew a lot of things that he could do better the second time around, but some of the lucky shots…he didn’t think he could recreate them.
“Three minutes left!” Present Mic’s voice rang over the fake city.
Well, Izuku could decide after the exam was over.
He pulled an unassuming examinee from path of a stray quirk blast. The examinee looked at him in surprise. Izuku gave him a wobbly smile and moved on.
Just as he was burying his impromptu sword into a three-pointer, the ground shuddered. Screams began to ring from the city centre.
It didn’t take long to see why.
The zero-pointer—which was as tall as a building, what the fuck—had arrived.
Izuku turned to move away—it wouldn’t make sense to go closer, with the stampede and all, even if there were more robots in that direction. But then he saw something that stole the breath from his lungs.
Izuku squinted; was that really…? Oh, kami, it was Uraraka.
Uraraka, trapped beneath the rubble, was in the direct path of the zero-pointer.
Izuku began to run—towards the zero-pointer. He wouldn’t reach there in time—he wouldn’t—no, he would—he had to—
He didn’t make it.
Before his eyes, the robot stepped onto Uraraka.
Kami, no—no, he had to calm down—this was exactly what his quirk was for—he could still save Uraraka!
With shaking hands, Izuku opened his locket’s clasp and placed the pill within into his mouth.
He bit on it.
Dying from cyanide poison was unpleasant, but quick. With a few convulsions, Izuku found himself back at the moment after the zero-pointer appeared.
He began running and reached Uraraka in record time.
“…Midoriya…?” Uraraka slurred. She sounded like she had a concussion. “You need…to leave…”
“I’m not leaving without you.” Izuku threw his weight against the rubble. It didn’t budge. He tried to lift the rubble from beneath, praying that adrenaline would lend him power akin to a strength quirk.
It didn’t.
The zero-pointer was nearly upon them—Izuku had to hurry—maybe if he used his metal scrap as a lever—no, it’s not working—damnit!
He needed more time—more—
—too late.
There was a brief moment of darkness, as the robot’s foot descended on them. Uraraka screamed at him to run, but what was the point? He still hadn’t—
And then his bones snapped and rearranged, and Izuku was once again slipping through time.
He couldn’t lift the rubble—he was too weak, too useless—but what if he saved Uraraka before she was trapped by the rubble?
Focusing through the haze of fear and failure, Izuku rewound to the exact moment before the zero-pointer appeared.
Leaving his sword buried in the three-pointer he had just taken down moments ago, Izuku ran.
He could see the rubble fall down as if in slow motion. There wasn’t enough time—but he couldn’t fail again—he couldn’t let Uraraka die again—
Izuku pushed Uraraka out of the way. Good—she was safe—
—and then the rubble fell onto him.
Uraraka stumbled and turned around, face furious. “What—Midoriya?”
Izuku gave her a shaky smile. Damnit, he’d have to rewind another round—at least Uraraka didn’t die this time—
Uraraka furrowed her brows. She placed her palms onto the giant piece of rubble and easily pushed it away.
Huh.
Then, Uraraka pulled Izuku to his feet. They stumbled to the edge of the street, clearing the path moments before the robot stepped on exactly where they had been.
Uraraka breathed an audible sigh of relief and gave Izuku a shaky smile of her own. She then proceeded to empty her stomach on the floor.
“Aaaannnddd, Little Listeners, that’s TIMES UP!”
At Present Mic’s announcement, Izuku slumped onto the floor.
The exam was over.
Uraraka wiped her lips and sat down next to him, “Thanks.”
Izuku nodded at her, but didn’t speak.
The thought of redoing the exam briefly crossed his mind, but Izuku quickly dismissed the idea—he couldn’t imagine going through…that a second time.
The two sat in silence. Uraraka’s quirk was puzzling—why hadn’t she lifted the rubble herself the first two times when she could do it so easily for him? Her appearance didn’t contain the usual characteristics attributed to strength quirks either. Perhaps it changed the weight of things she touched…?
Whatever. He could analyse her quirk when he wasn’t feeling so…off…
This wasn’t even the worst thing to happen to him! And Uraraka was okay now, thanks to his quirk. So why did Izuku feel…as if he was…watching his mum die all over again…
“How did you know the rubble was going to fall on me?” Uraraka asked, startling him from his morose thoughts. “You weren’t anywhere near me.”
“I have a time rewinding quirk.” Izuku told her quietly. Briefly, he registered that this was the first time he actually told anyone about his quirk. On any other day, he would’ve been worried that Uraraka wouldn’t believe him, but now he simply couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I saw the rubble trapping you the first time,” and she died because of it, “so I rewound time to save you.”
“I,” Uraraka blinked, “wow.” She gave him a bright, heartfelt smile, “I never thought someone would mess with the timestream to help me. Thank you, Midoriya.”
Some of the ice in Izuku’s chest—that he hadn’t even known was there—melted away. He smiled again, but this one felt more genuine than any he could remember in recent years. He had saved someone. For once, he hadn't been useless.
Then, Recovery Girl arrived. She tsked at Izuku’s injuries, and—ignoring Izuku’s protests that he was fine and she shouldn’t waste her quirk on him—healed them, before sending the two away with several gummy bears.
After taking a quick shower, Izuku found Uraraka outside the boys’ locker room, waiting for him. To his shock, she insisted they exchange numbers, and didn’t even comment on the battered state of his phone—if anything, her phone was just as battered as his.
The frost in his chest receded entirely as Uraraka explained that they had saved each other, and were therefore now friends—his first friend since Kacchan—since his mother—think of it!
Quietly, his fears of failing the exam and the incident with the zero-pointer drifted to the back of his mind.
Despite everything, Izuku’s day was much better than what he could've hoped for.