Chapter 34

The atmosphere in Class 1-A was noticeably different after the Sports Festival. The raw energy that had filled the room during our first few weeks at U.A. had settled into something quieter; the idle chatter was muted. Everyone sat at their desks waiting for homeroom to start. Soon after, the classroom door slid open, and Aizawa walked in, his yellow sleeping bag slung over his shoulder, with dark circles under his eyes,

"Morning," He said, dropping his sleeping bag behind the desk.

"I'm sure most of you spent the past two days resting, but today we get into the practical side of hero work. Normally, after the sports festival, you all receive draft offers from pro agencies, distributed evenly across the hero course. This year, however, the results were extremely skewed.” Aizawa wrote a list of numbers on the blackboard.

The class read the board in silence. Each name had a figure next to it. Most were double digits. A few cleared a hundred. Three broke a thousand.

Arata Seiji: 4,120

Bakugo Katsuki: 3,556

Todoroki Shoto: 1,405

Iida Tenya: 701

Yaoyorozu Momo: 684

My name sat at the very top. I looked at it once before turning away.

The room stayed quiet for a few seconds before Kaminari stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor.

"Four thousand?!" he shouted, while pointing at the board. "Are you serious? That's nearly as much as Todoroki and Bakugo combined!"

"I mean, what do you expect? The guy walked through every round without taking a clean hit," Sero said, leaning back with a whistle. "I'd be surprised if agencies weren't begging to sign him."

Bakugo's chair scraped back hard as he stood up. His hands slammed onto his desk, tiny yellow sparks popping against the wood and leaving faint black marks. "The hell is this?"

"Draft offers," Aizawa said, picking up a remote control from his desk. "Agencies rated you on performance. That's the count."

"I can read."

"Then stop asking questions you already have the answer to."

Bakugo stayed standing, glaring at his number; he was being reminded that he was second place. "A bunch of damn sidekicks looking for a shortcut." He sat down, his jaw clenched, and stopped looking at the board. Instead, his eyes locked onto the back of my head. I ignored him.

Around the room, the reactions sorted themselves quickly. Midoriya's head was turned halfway towards me, eyes wide. He was muttering under his breath, his notebook open. "Four thousand one hundred and twenty... that means almost every major agency in the eastern region submitted a draft request. With his constructs and versatile movement, they probably view him as an immediate asset..."

"Midoriya," I said quietly.

He flinched, snapping his head forward. "S-Sorry, Arata! I didn't mean to be so loud!"

"It's fine. Just keep the noise down"

Yaoyorozu leaned forward from behind me, her voice low. "Did you expect this?"

"I was expecting something in this range."

"Wow, so for the internship? Have you decided?"

"I'm working on it. But what about you, do you have anyone in mind?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I also don't know yet; I'm hesitating between Gunhead, Nighteye and Snipe."

‘ Seems like she's deviating more and more from her canon self. As for me, I wasn't lying when I said I was working on my choice. To my classmates, four thousand offers were proof of standing at the top of the freshman class. To me, it was four thousand agencies trying to figure out how my IBM worked. Four thousand pairs of eyes trying to figure out my secret. That's something I can't afford.’

Aizawa tapped the podium with his knuckles, cutting off the lingering chatter. "Whether you received thousands of offers or none, everyone in this room will participate in workplace training next week. Those without direct offers will select from a pre-approved list of forty agencies nationwide.” Aizawa said, dropping a stapled packet on the front desk. "Everyone else chooses from their offers. You have until Friday."

Iida's hand shot up. "Sensei! Will agencies provide curriculum outlines…"

"Packet."

Iida lowered his hand.

"One more thing," Aizawa said tiredly. "Tomorrow, Midnight comes in for hero names. Have something prepared. You'll need a name before you walk into any agency." He checked the clock. "That's all."

….

Midnight arrived on time the next morning, tapping her whip against her thigh with a sharp snap. She dropped a stack of small whiteboards and markers on the front desk.

"Selecting your hero name is a critical step!" she called out. "Many names chosen during student internships stay with you for your entire professional career, so take this seriously. You have five minutes!"

The small whiteboards went around, and everyone, taking off their marker caps, was filling the classroom with the sound of markers scratching against whiteboards.

The quiet that followed was different from a standard written test. Everyone had been sitting on a hero name for years, but facing the actual opportunity to choose made people hesitate.

I picked up my marker and wrote my choice down after a minute of consideration.

"You've already decided on something?" Yaoyorozu asked softly from behind me.

"Yeah, I've made my choice."

‘A hero name is both a brand and a cover story. Anything too revealing about my ability is dangerous. This isn't DC. I need a name that frames my invisible power as something good enough to maintain the public's curiosity, while keeping them away from the true nature of my Ajin abilities.

"Time's up," Midnight called out, standing by the teacher's desk. "Stand up one by one and say the name you've picked up."

Bakugo went up first, flipping his board around with a fierce grin. "Lord Explosion Murder!"

"Rejected!" Midnight snapped instantly. "Way too violent! Try again!"

"What?! It's awesome!" Bakugo barked, teeth gritted, before stomping back to his desk in a foul mood.

Everyone took turns standing one after the other, either getting their choice rejected and sent back to think or approved by Midnight. I stood from my seat, with my classmates focusing on me.

I turned the whiteboard toward the class.

"The Phantom Hero: Specter."

Midnight tilted her head, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh, I like that! Simple, memorable, and it fits the unseen nature of your power without giving away your tricks. Approved!"

"Specter... Dude, that sounds sharp," Kirishima said, turning in his chair with a grin. "Fits that whole style of hitting people with something they can't see."

"It's precise and professional," Yaoyorozu added with a polite nod.

"Thank you," I said, capping my marker and sitting back down.

‘ Specter. An apparition. Present but intangible. You know it's there before you can prove it. Easy to say, hard to forget, nothing to explain. It painted my black ghost like a psychic entity rather than an anomaly. It gave the public something to call me without telling them anything real.’

By the end of the hour, twenty names covered the board. Midnight looked at us for a moment before dismissing us. "Good. These go to the agency liaison office by the end of the day. From here on, that's who you are."

After that, Aizawa walked down the aisles during homeroom, dropping customized binders onto our desks with a heavy thump. When he reached mine, he placed a binder thicker than anyone else's in front of me. The label read Arata Seiji – Agency Requests.

I flipped through the pages. The top names in Japanese hero society were all listed in neat print: Endeavor, Best Jeanist, Hawks, Edgeshot. Endeavor's agency had filed a targeted request, offering a slot in their combat division with promises of direct field experience.

I flipped past the top-ten juggernauts without stopping.

‘ Every big agency came with an impressive number of sidekick rosters, non-disclosure agreements, public relations training, and constant oversight. A week under Endeavor meant analysts watching my every move, taking notes on the exact physical range, density, and recovery speed of my Black ghost. That level of scrutiny is something I can't afford. What I needed is an agency with high real-world incident density, where performance mattered far more than technical explanations.’

By Thursday afternoon, the placement board for the Hero agency choice in the hallway had most of Class 1-A filled in.

Todoroki had taken Endeavor, writing it in the smallest legible handwriting possible, as if shrinking the letters reduced what they meant. Iida, on the other hand, selected Manual.

‘ So Stain still got to his brother. Even though I'm sorry for him, I have no intention of setting foot in that mess. Sorry, Iida, you're on your own for this one.’

Nezu called me into his office the following morning.

"Arata-kun!!" Nezu said with excitement, before folding his paws on his desk. "I wanted to recommend something to you. What are your thoughts on Endeavor's agency? He filed a specific request for you. This is not a general draft offer but a targeted request; this suggests a genuine interest in your capabilities."

"I saw it."

"The training infrastructure there is exceptional," Nezu continued, watching me with patience. "And the proximity to U.A. staff creates continuity that an external placement cannot replicate."

"I appreciate the offer," I replied smoothly. "I already have an agency in mind."

A beat passed. Something shifted behind his eyes, masked quickly by a polite smile. "Is that so. It's a shame, but I trust your judgment."

I filed my paperwork on the way back to class. My finger had stopped on a listing near the middle of the stack: Mirko's Agency.

Rumi Usagiyama ran an independent agency, centered around immediate response and solo street patrol. She didn't employ sidekicks, maintained no corporate staff, and spent zero time analyzing the mechanics behind her partner's Quirk. She moved fast, fought hard, and expected anyone working beside her to keep up.

"You've already made your decision?" Aizawa asked, stopping by my desk. He pulled the form from my hand, his eyes drifting over the selection before pausing. His brow furrowed. "Mirko. You have offers from Endeavor, Edgeshot, and four top-ten agencies offering tailored support teams. Why pass on such an opportunity for a solo hero who barely stays in one district long enough to do log reports?"

"All Top agencies spend half their internship weeks on corporate protocol, media training, and team choreography," I answered, keeping my voice calm. "I don't need a public relations lesson for now, Sensei. I need real-time street experience in rapid-response combat."

"She doesn't teach," Aizawa pointed out. "She expects people to survive her pace."

"That suits me just fine. My physical conditioning and quirk control are more than enough. What I lack is exposure to unpredictable urban environments. Working beside Mirko will guarantee a maximum of field time with zero administrative distraction."

Aizawa stared at me for a long moment, searching my face for signs of hesitation or overconfidence. Finding none, he exhaled through his nose.

"Fair enough," he said, slipping the form into his folder. "Turn in your final confirmation paperwork before you leave tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Mirko confirmed the internship the next morning with a single line of response: Internship approved. Show up ready or don't show up.

This was my best choice since Nezu had suggested Endeavor; declining it for another top-five hero would look like a choice made through personal preference.

….

Later that afternoon, Aizawa read the completed placement list during his planning period, stopping at my name.

"Mirko," he muttered to the empty room.

Mirko didn't take interns. She had made an exception, which was an event of its own. Every angle he and Nezu had prepared had been neatly closed off by one form submission.

He folded the list and went back to work.