Chapter 13: The Straight Path
Ten months of dirt, sweat, and blood.
It was the final night. Tomorrow morning was the U.A. Entrance Exam.
Zoro sat cross-legged in the dirt of the courtyard. His breathing was shallow. In front of him sat the green armor plate of the Zero-Pointer. Still uncut. Still mocking him.
He was tired. His muscles burned.
Hear the breath of the steel.
Zoro closed his eyes. He stopped forcing it. He stopped trying to conquer the metal with brute strength. He let his chaotic thoughts sink.
Silence.
Then... a hum.
A deep, heavy vibration. It wasn't a sound. It was a feeling. He felt the dense, stubborn structure of the steel itself.
Zoro opened his eyes. He stood up. He drew the generic steel katana from his hip.
He didn't swing hard. He didn't tense his muscles. He just followed the hum.
Swish.
The blade passed through the thick green metal. No sparks. No resistance.
A perfectly straight line appeared across the armor plate. A second later, the top half slid off. It hit the dirt with a massive thud. The cut surface was as smooth as a mirror.
"You heard it."
Zoro turned. Master Kenji stood on the wooden porch. In his hands, he held a single sword. The scabbard was pure white. The hilt was pristine.
Kenji walked down the steps.
"Before the glowing babies. Before Quirks took over the world," Kenji said quietly, looking at the sword in his hands. "There were men who forged steel with their own souls. A master smith named Shimotsuki created this blade. He called it the Straight Path of Harmony."
Kenji held it out.
"Wado Ichimonji. It is a cursed blade, Zoro. It rejects the weak. It refuses to be swung by a man without absolute resolve. The heroes of today rely on genetics. They forgot the weight of real steel."
Zoro reached out. His calloused fingers wrapped around the white hilt.
A cold, sharp shock ran up his arm. The balance was terrifyingly perfect. It felt like an extension of his own body.
"I'll take it," Zoro said.
The morning sun glared off the towering glass gates of U.A. High.
Hundreds of teenagers swarmed the entrance. They buzzed with nervous energy, comparing Quirks and fixing their school uniforms.
Zoro ignored them. He walked straight toward the gates. He wore a tight white shirt, dark trousers, and a dark green haramaki around his waist. Three real swords rested tightly against his hip.
"Hold it right there, listener!"
A tall pro hero with blond hair and a massive speaker around his neck stepped in front of Zoro. Present Mic. He pointed a strict finger at Zoro's waist.
"Live steel is strictly prohibited on campus! Unless you have a registered Quirk that requires them, hand over the weapons!"
The surrounding students stopped. They stared at the Quirkless boy with the scars. Whispers broke out.
Zoro didn't hand them over. His right hand rested casually on his hilts.
"They stay with me."
Present Mic frowned. "Kid, don't make me—"
"Let him through."
A tired, scratchy voice cut through the noise. Aizawa stepped out from the security booth. He held a coffee cup, his eyes looking worse than usual.
"Eraser? He's carrying lethal weapons!" Mic protested.
"They are his Support Items," Aizawa said flatly. He locked his dark eyes onto Zoro. "If he dies in there, it's his own fault. Move along."
Zoro smirked. He walked right past the pro heroes.
Battle Center B.
"START!"
Present Mic's voice blasted over the speakers. The massive metal doors of the fake city began to grind open.
The crowd of students froze, waiting for a countdown.
Zoro didn't wait. He blurred forward.
He entered the fake city before the doors were even fully open.
CRASH!
A massive olive-green machine burst through a concrete wall. Red targeting lasers swept the dust cloud. A painted "3" marked its thick armor.
The other students screamed.
Zoro didn't blink. He stopped in the middle of the street. His right hand reached across his waist, gripping the white hilt of Wado Ichimonji. He pushed the blade open a fraction of an inch with his thumb.
Time to test the Straight Path.
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