Shattered 1.02

[A/N: Word count: 3,002 words

Thank you for supporting the story, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter]

******

"Well… they say everything's bigger in Texas, but U.A. uhh… might trump that, huh?" Brandon said, peering through the driver's side window at U.A. High. He whistled at the sprawling campus.

Oliver had to agree. The number one school in the world for heroics was genuinely expansive. It spanned at least two to three hundred acres, and inside the cemented walls separating future heroes from the everyday plebeians, the window-encased school was shaped like the letter 'H.' 

This was the school where dreams came true, and it was the main reason Oliver moved from the U.S. to Japan—alongside knowing his favorite hero went here.

He unstrapped his seatbelt, opened the back door, and stepped onto the pavement. The air was filled with chatter from nervous examinees. "This should take about two and a half hours. I'll text you when I finish," Oliver said, adjusting his wife pleaser and glancing back at the car.

"Go kick some ass," Brandon replied with a grin, giving Oliver a thumbs-up.

Sohvi peered over the cracked window, her expression serious. "Annihilate them," she said, her eyes scanning the crowd before returning to Oliver. "Show them why you are and will always be the best." 

Oliver cheesed at that. "Yes, ma'am."

Oliver shut the door with a click and turned to face the imposing school building. Kids his age were walking up to the school's doors, wearing backpacks and school uniforms. He was the only one empty-handed.

As they drove off, Oliver caught a few words of Nigel's mutters as they faded into the wind. "What an unfortunate group of kids. They don't even know a beast is now..." 

Oliver scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on a familiar green-haired kid near the front of the building. The boy was shaking his head, lost in thought. As he turned to walk towards the building, his foot latched behind the other, and he started to fall head first toward concrete. The kid didn't even put his hands out; he was just going to take it. 

Without thinking, Oliver stepped forward and crossed the school grounds in seconds. In an instant, he was beside the green-haired kid. He reached down and grabbed his backpack, holding him in place. Looking down, he locked eyes with the boy and smiled, "That could have been bad."

******

Izuku was about to trip. But what was new?

Things like that always happened to him. And how unfortunate—looks like the ten months of training wasn't enough to fix his clumsiness. 

His right foot caught his left, and now he was looking at the ground, plummeting towards concrete. Pain and embarrassment were mere seconds away. But suddenly—and surprisingly—he didn't continue his plummet. He was suspended in air as something—rather someone, caught him by the straps of his backpack. 

Still forty-five degrees mid-air, he turned his head. 

The first thing that caught his attention was the muscular arm that held him in place and the tattoos that sprawled across its tanned skin. His eyes didn't linger as staring was rude, but he caught a few: what appeared to be a dagger on his wrist, a sword in the middle of his right forearm, and a black cat above it. There were words in what appeared to be English sprinkled throughout in neat font that were all the same size, but before his eyes could wander more, a voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

"That could have been bad," his savior said, with a smile so bright white and immaculate, it was made to be printed on money. 

Izuku forgot how to speak for a second but recovered quickly. "Oh… uh, yeah! It could have. T-thanks!" he forced out, now back on his two feet. He straightened his backpack and tried to steady his breathing.

Izuku looked into his sea-green eyes, and then he realized how high he was looking up, which made him realize how tall he was. He was nowhere near as tall as All Might, but probably somewhere above six feet (which was somewhat substantial compared to his five-five).

The boy looked at Izuku for a beat longer, as if he wanted to say more, but his attention was quickly pulled by someone Izuku hadn't even noticed. A brown-haired girl bundled up under a coat and pink scarf. She had her hand extended towards Izuku, and her eyes were widened in what appeared to be surprise.

"Looks like we both had the same idea," his savior said to her, his smile widening.

Izuku followed his gaze to the girl. She, too, seemed at a loss for words as her eyes traced the boy's physique, lingering over his muscular arms as if tracing every vein. Izuku had to admit the guy had an impressive physique. From his build and height, Izuku assumed he must have a physical quirk—something that enhanced his strength and speed. 

"I guess we did… but you were… faster than me," she said, now in control of her wandering eyes.

"Just a bit," he said, still smiling. "But we should probably head in before we're late. I'm Oliver, by the way."

 Oliver. Sounds American. Weird… his Japanese was— 

"I'm Ochaco. Nice to meet you." the brown-haired girl managed to say quickly.

"Uh. I'm Izuku. And yeah… we probably should," Izuku said, finally finding his voice.

They walked side by side, Oliver slightly leading the way into the building. Ochaco was chatting away with Oliver. Izuku wanted to strike up a conversation, too, but his eyes kept wandering back to Oliver's tattoos. Now that he could get a better look, the tattoos were beautifully done—clean line work, all in black or red ink. As Oliver swayed his arms, Izuku noticed there were words in the palm of his hand. Izuku's English was still a bit spotty, but was that the word [STORE] on his left palm?

They made it into the auditorium, a massive space filled with rows of potential U.A. students—his competition. The walls had banners of U.A. High grads, and a spotlight was at center stage. 

Somehow, even though Oliver led the way, Izuku managed to find a seat beside Kacchan, who shot him a death glare that could melt steel. 

Izuku shivered. 

Oliver flanked him on the other side and Ochaco on Oliver's left.

Izuku glanced around, taking in the other examinees. A lot of the examinees didn't appear to have a quirk that changed their physical makeup, but there were more than he expected that did. 

The auditorium suddenly went black, and stage lights illuminated the stage. Present Mic's energetic voice boomed through the speakers, introducing the series of tests. First, a written test, then a practical exam. 

Izuku could feel Kacchan's heated stare boring into his skull, but his mind was preoccupied with how he would acquire enough points to pass the exam and make All Might proud. All the hard work he had put in over the last ten months couldn't be wasted. He had to pass!

"—uku…? Hey, Izuku, you alright, buddy?" Oliver asked, nudging his shoulder slightly.

Izuku refocused his gaze and turned towards Oliver. "Oh… y-yeah, I'm o-okay!"

Oliver gave Izuku a concerned look and said, "Okay, you were mumbling to yourself there for a while. Just wanted to make sure you're doing okay."

"O-oh… I'm sorry about t-that. It's a bad h-habit of mine," Izuku mumbled out. 

"You're good, boss. Was just checking." Oliver pulled out his exam ticket with his information on it and asked, "What battle center are you in?"

Izuku looked over at Oliver's ticket, which showed:

Exam Ticket: Oliver Dean Bate

Examinee No.: 2155

Test Location: Battle Center A

Izuku turned his own ticket over to face the front:

Exam Ticket: Izuku Midoriya

Examinee No.: 2234

Test Location: Battle Center A

"That's wassup. Looks like we're gonna be at the same place." Oliver said patting Izuku's shoulder.

A scoff from Kaachan grabbed Oliver's attention. 

"...Do you know him, Izuku?" Oliver asks with a slight frown. 

"Oh, umm. Yeah… That's Kats—"

"Did I ever give you permission to tell my name to nobodies, Deku?" Kacchan interrupted, his voice dripping with disgust. His eyes were filled with contempt as he glared at Izuku, his lip curling in disdain. "Don't you dare forget your place."

Oliver locked eyes with Kacchan, and Izuku felt an impromptu battle royale was about to break out. The tension in the air was thick, and Izuku could almost hear his heartbeat. After a beat, Oliver spoke, his voice unnervingly calm. "Never mind, Izuku. His exam ticket had his name on it. Your Trash, right?"

"What the hell did you say?" Kacchan snarled, standing up from his seat, his deadly scowl deepening. "Say it the fuck again. I dare you." He didn't yell, but his words were soaked in venom.

"Ohhh… Trash must also have a hearing impediment, right, Izuku? How sad." Oliver said, his tone somber.

Kacchan's fists clenched, then unclenched as small sparks of explosive energy crackled at his fingertips. Izuku could feel the heat emanating from his palms. "You've got a lot of nerve, you piece of—"

"Stop it this instant! You are causing a disturbance, and it is shining a negative light on those of us who truly want to be here," a bifocalled, prim, and proper boy stood and pointed his pointed gaze their way.

The entire auditorium—plus Present Mic—was staring in their direction. Knowing Kacchan, it didn't intimidate him one bit. 

Kacchan didn't even bother to spare the boy a glance. He continued to glare at Oliver, who subtly gave him the middle finger.

Kacchan's palms began to expel small blasts, the explosive energy making the air around them shimmer with heat. But a reprimand from Present Mic cut the tension. "Hey, you kids! Save it for the exam! Any more disruptions, and you'll be disqualified!"

A second passed. Then another, and unexpectedly, Kacchan sat down with a grudging "I'll deal with you later."

Izuku glanced at Oliver and noticed that the corner of his lips was slightly raised in a smirk. 

Izuku seemed to shrink in his chair.

Today was going to be a lot longer than he expected. 

******

"How'd you think you did on the test?" Oliver asked Izuku as they met up at the gate of Battle Center A.

Before the practical exam, they had a chance to change into something more suited for physical exertion, so Oliver went to the locker room and swapped his jeans for black joggers. As he was changing, the kids around him stared and whispered about his tattoos, which was quite different from his experience in America. They said things like:

"Look at those tattoos. How many do you think he has?"

"I don't know, but let's stay away from him. I'm sure he's nothing but trouble."

"Don't you think it looks badass though?"

"Hush! He's looking this way."

Back at the gate, Izuku's legs were now shaking uncontrollably. "I… I t-think I p-passed," he stammered. Oliver noticed Izuku's tendency to stumble, mumble, and shake when he was nervous, which appeared to be all the time. He was interested in knowing how someone so meek had enough courage to run into danger to save Trash. "What a-about you?"

Oliver placed his left hand on Izuku's shoulder, and his shaking slowly subsided. "I think I did okay."

"Just okay?" Ochaco asked, raising an eyebrow as she joined them. "You finished the test in what? Thirty minutes? And it took us the full hour…"

Oliver chuckled and put his arm behind his head. He had actually finished in nineteen minutes and forty-two seconds, but who was counting?—Midnight—He could have finished earlier, but Oliver, being Oliver, triple-checked his answers to make sure he got them all correct. 

"Yeah… I probably should have looked over my answers one more time."

Ochaco raised her brow and mumbled. "You're too modest."

"It's you guys," a familiar voice said, interrupting their conversation. 

Turning around, Oliver was met with the same boy who had reprimanded Trash in the auditorium. He looked prim and proper, the type to have a stick up his—"Causing a disturbance while Present Mic is talking is not befitting of aspiring U.A. students, is it?" he asked, adjusting his glasses with a stern expression.

Izuku began his stutter spree, nervously trying to find words, but Oliver stepped in smoothly. "If I remember correctly, it wasn't us," he said, motioning to himself, Izuku, and Ochaco, "who caused the disturbance. Wasn't it the blonde-haired boy? Or did you perhaps forget?"

That caught him off guard. He probably didn't expect them to have a comeback. However, he quickly regained his composure and walked towards Oliver with a determined stride. "I saw you say something that egged him on. And, another note, just by looking at you—" his eyes trailed over Oliver's tattoos, his lips curling in disdain, "you look like a delinquent. Shouldn't you be…elsewhere?"

"Hey, don't you think you're taking it too far?" Ochaco said, frowning at the boy.

Oliver gave a calm and confident smile. "Looks can be quite deceiving," he said, his voice even. He turned around and walked closer to the gate, waving behind his head. "Good luck today, Glasses." Izuku and Ochaco trailed behind. 

The boy bristled at the casual dismissal. "Glasses? You have on glasses, too! Take that back right no—"

"Right! Let's start!" Present Mic shouted from the top of a watchtower, his booming voice halting all conversation in their tracks. "Get moving! There are no real countdowns in real battles! Run, run, run, listeners! You're wasting your time here!" He was windmilling his arm at that point. 

Oliver chuckled at that. "Good luck, you two. Catch ya later." He winked at Ochaco and Izuku before suddenly vanishing from sight, reappearing atop a skyscraper in the middle of Battle Center A, one hundred yards away. 

From his vantage point, he could see everything happening below: the expansive blocks of skyscrapers, the spawning robot mobs, the students stampeding through the front gate, and Izuku scrambling behind.

"Okay, how should I go about this?" Oliver mused, placing a hand on his chin. "Well… the others need a chance to pass, so I'll take it a bit easy, but first—"

Earbuds spawned out of his right hand, and he plopped them in. He double-tapped the right bud, and Not Like Us, by Kendrick Lamar, began to play. 

[A/N: I recommend playing the song: Not Like Us, by Kendrick Lamar for the vibes]

He brought his left hand to his right shoulder, touching a tattoo of a bow in black ink. As if emerging from the tattoo, a sleek black recurve bow materialized in his grip. It was half his height, with sharp razor tips at its ends. It was a masterpiece. 

Holding the grip with his left hand, he pulled back the bowstring with a relaxed grip. Suddenly, an arrow of pure lightining appeared in his grasp. Oliver took a deep inhale, aimed at a three-pointer one hundred meters away, exhaled, and let go.

The arrow that shot out of the bow moved so fast that it was invisible to the human eye. The only thing visible was the crackling streak of energy that split the air. 

Wind whipped through Oliver's curls as the arrow surged forward, leaving a trail of an electric spark. A deafening boom echoed through the Battle Center as the arrow made contact, instantly obliterating the robot. Shards of metal and circuitry exploded outward, the force of the impact sending debris flying through the air like shrapnel.

Oliver expected the robots to be…stronger than what they were. Guess he should probably tone down the intensity moving forward. 

"Three points. Ninety-seven more to go."

Oliver armed the bow once more, taking aim. Pulling back the bowstring, another arrow made of pure lightning appeared in his grasp. He let go, and with a swish, the arrow zoomed through the sky into his next target.

Six.

Oliver turned on his axis, noticing Izuku shaking on the ground beneath a three-pointer. Instinctly, he drew back the bowstring again. This time, a beautifully crafted arrow made of pure ice was nocked instead of a lightning arrow. 

Oliver's breath was now visible. He released, and the arrow shot out, crystallizing the air as it rocketed across the sky. It made contact with the robot, and ice rapidly spread across its frame, freezing it solid. Izuku turned around, wide-eyed. Oliver gave him a wink in response. 

Nine.

A robot crashed into a building to his left. Oliver shifted his stance, pulled the string, and shot.

Twelve.

He pulled again. Released.

Fifteen.

His movements were perfect. They had to be perfect. He had to always be perfect.

There was no alternative. 

Eighteen.

Oliver kept his aim steady. His shots swift. Precision in every movement. Each arrow finding its mark perfectly.

Twenty-one.

He saw a group of students about to be crushed beneath falling debris from a destroyed robot. Oliver adjusted quickly. This time, the arrow was pure fire—sizzling like a raging inferno. He released the bowstring, and within milliseconds of contact, the debris was completely disintegrated. 

He refocused his aim three degrees to the left, pulled back, and shot again.

Twenty-four.

Oliver was like a machine; his actions fluid and unhesitating.

Twenty-seven.

He didn't smile.

Thirty points.

His breathing wasn't heavy.

Thirty-three. Thirty-six.

He wasn't showing any signs of exhaustion. 

Thirty-nine. Forty-two. Forty-five. Forty-eight. Fifty-one.

He was a one-man army. The more he shot, the faster he became.

Fifty-four. Fifty-seven. Sixty. Sixty-three. Sixty-nine. Seventy-two. Seventy-five. Seventy-eight. Eighty-one. Eighty-four. Eighty-seven. Ninety.

He was in the zone, seamlessly alternating between lightning, fire, and ice arrows without hesitation. He focused only on saving examinees and taking down the three-pointers. The rest could be left for the others.

Ninety-three. Ninety-six. Ninety-nine.

No matter what the situation was, he handled it perfectly. He pulled the bowstring back one last time with the same strength he began with, not a bead of sweat in sight. Aiming at a robot running towards Glasses's blind spot, he took his last shot. An ice arrow penetrated the robot's chest, freezing it instantly to the concrete below.

Glasses looked up towards Oliver. Oliver smiled down at him. 

"One-hundred."

******

[A/N: What were your thoughts on the music? Thought it would be something fun/cool. 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you did, please consider leaving a review.]