Snowdrops
Izurich
Bombardier
ChronoBovino
N o b u N o b u
[ Ishin Academy, Sapporo, Japan ]What the fuck was this? “Mandatory” they’d said the ceremony was. "Expelled" they said he'd be if he skipped it. Those two statements implied it was important. But all Noboru Nobunaga could see was few second-rate hero-teachers standing around with their thumbs up their asses, and a crusty old man spouting some quote-unquote ‘intimidating’ bullshit in a failed attempt to psych him out. `Defeat them or die`? `If you can’t handle this school you don’t deserve to be a hero`? What a joke. Ishin’s entrance exam was a cake-walk for a student as great as him. If that was the standard they were holding him too, they might as well graduate him already. Or at the very least, transfer him to Yuuei Academy, where he deserved to be instead of this ice cube in the ass-end of Japan.
“Tch.”
The thought of his stolen right made the whole experience that much worse. It wasn’t enough that U.A. didn’t consider him heroic enough - the fools - but they had to recommend him to Ishin Academy and all its austere pretenses. He looked around. The auditorium didn’t have a camera in sight. It wasn’t at all like U.A.’s ceremony, which he had been streaming on his smartphone the entire presentation. No fanfare, no media coverage, no being a hero in all the ways that actually mattered. Just... this.
“At least this shitshow’s over. If I hear anymore administrative nonsense, I'm gonna pass out.”
Noboru hopped out of his assigned folding chair and, for the first time in the veritable eons the ceremony took, his feet touched the ground. He looked to his left, at the older students, and glared. Then he looked to the right, where the rest of his supposed competition was heading, and followed after them, scowling the entire way. By the time he made it to the classroom - fashionably late, as is a hero’s right - there had been a pair of events that only served to lower his already abysmal opinion of this school: a three student pile-up and some idiots talking about how they’d be the best.
Fucking degenerates.
Eyes narrowed, Noboru walked past the doorway freakshow without a word, shoulder-checking anyone in his path (intentional or otherwise) with surprising force. He leapt atop his desk - numbered two according to the folded paper that he kicked off - and stood tall atop it. With his head held high, his hands in his pockets, and his hair like a magnificent mane, he looked almost like a true hero. Or at least, a middle schooler's conception of one. From his place on high, he looked down on each and every one of them, sizing them up with his crimson gaze. Especially the ones who claimed to be aiming for the top: Kazuo and Hirohiko.
‘Wow...’
Nobody was of note in the eyes of Noboru Nobunaga. How completely, utterly expected. With this knowledge, his scowl morphed into a grin. Though it was a more amiable expression, it was no more comforting than his previous expression. Rather than a expression of annoyance, his shark-like mien conveyed only the confidence and disdain of a predator among prey.
“Alright sidekicks, you better listen up!” Noboru's demand reverberated throughout the classroom, carried by a voice with a gravitas ill-fit for the size of the one speaking. “Since it seems some people haven't gotten the memo, allow me to give you the best piece of advice you'll get from this ‘prestigious’ school: learn to settle for second.”
Noboru thrust his thumb towards himself.
“Because the only one who's gonna reach the top is me, Noboru Nobounaga!”