Meridian Academy

Tokyo's elite hero academy hides a proxy war and buried experiments under a meritocratic facade. But maybe that's not the worst part.

Plot

Bureau of Powered Affairs  /  Cadet Intake 2026 MERIDIAN Hero Academy · Tokyo Bay Fifty Seats · Two Thousand Applicants · One Board Genre Superhero / Conspiracy Setting Modern Tokyo Status EXAM OPEN 01 Intake Briefing You are eighteen. Your power surfaced weeks ago and the law forbids you from using it in public until the state says otherwise. Meridian grants that permission. It is a walled fortress on Tokyo Bay, it advertises pure meritocracy, and behind the glass three hero factions run a quiet proxy war for the next generation using the faculty as scouts. The program is three years. Yours will last one. Villain pressure compresses the whole curriculum into a single term and the cadets still standing in March graduate early under emergency authority. Pass. Climb. Survive. 02 The Horizon Index 80% Manifest 50 Seats 5 Classes 1 YR Compressed A public leaderboard in every common room. Combat scores, rescue grades, academics, media impressions, instructor marks, infractions. It updates after every single evaluation and it decides training slots, internships, sponsors, costume budget and which faction learns your name first. The board moves both ways, for everyone. Your classmates are training while you sleep, and the cadet ranked below you in April fully intends to be above you in June. Power Classification EMISSION  force, energy, matter, fields projected outwardAUGMENTATION  the user's own body, alteredMORPHIC  permanent visible mutation. Suspected on sightPERCEPTION  sensory and informational. Undervalued, decisiveANOMALOUS  bends physics or agency. Watched by the Bureau Every power carries a stated drawback, a ceiling and a counter. Those limits decide fights. Nothing here is clean. 03 Who Is Buying LegacyVanguard Altruist purists who still think the job is saving people. Unglamorous, unfashionable, shrinking. They recruit the cadets who run toward strangers. PrimeTier The industry as it actually is. Rankings as a ladder to endorsement money, peacekeeping curated into public relations. They recruit whoever looks good winning. ProtocolCollective Peacekeeping as a spreadsheet. Collateral is acceptable if the threat is neutralized efficiently. They recruit cadets who follow orders and do not flinch. 04 Open Case Files THE PURGE  Zealots. The celebrity protector complex is a hollow sham and they intend to tear the rankings down in publicBIO-LIBERATIONISTS  Born from the caste system's fringes. Licensing is anatomical tyrannyTHE SYNDICATE  Pure economics. Bribed heroes, manipulated coverage, illegal enhancement tech Three cells that despise each other. Three leaders who have never once suspected they answer to the same person. None of them is publicly known. This is the year they debut. 05 Scheduled Events April Entrance Exam. Sixty minutes against villain drones, and a scoring rule nobody mentions May Sports Festival. Televised nationally. Sponsorships decided in an afternoon June Hero Internships. Placed by faction interest, and hit while you are out there August Summer Camp. A week of forcing your power past its limit. One of you does not come back down Sept Provisional License Exam. Bureau-run, cross-academy, results published Oct The Syndicate Raid. Something recovered there does not add up Dec Joint Training Battle. 1-A against 1-B, scored publicly, scouts in every seat March ??? 06 N̶O̷T̸ O̢N̵ T̴H̶E̷ B̸O̢A̵R̴D̶ P̷O̸I̴N̢T̵ Z̶E̷R̸O̢ A̸ s̢e̵a̴l̷e̶d̸ s̢h̵a̴f̷t̶ i̸n̢ a̵ w̴a̷l̶l̸e̢d̵ c̴o̷u̶r̸t̢y̵a̴r̷d̶, w̸i̢t̵h̴ a̷ p̶l̸a̢q̵u̴e̷ c̶o̸m̢m̵e̴m̷o̶r̸a̢t̵i̴n̷g̶ t̸h̢e̵ f̴i̷r̶s̸t̢ m̵a̴n̷i̶f̸e̢s̵t̴a̷t̶i̸o̢n̵ i̴n̷ h̶i̸s̢t̵o̴r̷y̶. T̸h̢e̵ p̴l̷a̶q̸u̢e̵ g̴i̷v̶e̸s̢ a̵ d̴a̷t̶e̸, a̢ n̵a̴m̷e̶ a̸n̢d̵ a̴ l̷o̶c̸a̢t̵i̴o̷n̶. T̸w̢o̵ o̴f̷ t̶h̸e̢ t̵h̴r̷e̶e̸ a̢r̵e̴ f̷a̶l̸s̢e̵. T̸H̢E̵ S̴E̷C̸O̢N̵D̴ H̶O̷R̸I̢Z̵O̴N̶ A̸ p̢o̵w̴e̷r̶ c̸a̢n̵ w̴a̷k̶e̸ t̢w̵i̴c̷e̶. P̸u̢s̵h̴ f̷a̶r̸ e̢n̵o̴u̷g̶h̸, o̢r̵ c̴o̷m̶e̸ c̢l̵o̴s̷e̶ e̸n̢o̵u̴g̷h̶ t̸o̢ d̵y̴i̷n̶g̸, a̢n̵d̴ t̷h̶e̸ d̢r̵a̴w̷b̶a̸c̢k̵ s̴o̷f̶t̸e̢n̵s̴ a̷n̶d̸ s̢o̵m̴e̷t̶h̸i̢n̵g̴ n̷e̶w̸ s̢u̵r̴f̷a̶c̸e̢s̵. T̴h̷e̶ m̸o̢t̵t̴o̷ i̶s̸ n̢o̵t̴ a̷b̶o̸u̢t̵ a̴m̷b̶i̸t̢i̵o̴n̷. I̶t̸ i̢s̵ a̴ d̷e̶s̸c̢r̵i̴p̷t̶i̸o̢n̵ o̴f̷ a̶ p̸r̢o̵c̴e̷s̶s̸, a̢n̵d̴ e̷v̶e̸r̢y̵o̴n̷e̶ w̸h̢o̵ s̴u̷r̶v̸i̢v̵e̴d̷ o̶n̸e̢ p̵a̴i̷d̶ f̸o̢r̵ i̴t̷. S̶U̷B̸L̢E̵V̴E̶L̷ F̸O̢U̵R̴ T̸h̢e̵ m̴e̷d̶i̸c̢a̵l̴ w̷i̶n̸g̢ e̵l̴e̷v̶a̸t̢o̵r̴ h̷a̶s̸ o̢n̵e̴ m̷o̶r̸e̢ f̵l̴o̷o̶r̸ t̢h̵a̴n̷ t̶h̸e̢ p̵u̴b̷l̶i̸c̢ m̵a̴p̷ a̶l̸l̢o̵w̴s̷. C̶a̸d̢e̵t̴s̷ w̶h̸o̢ w̵i̴t̷h̶d̸r̢a̵w̴ d̷o̶ n̸o̢t̵ a̴l̷w̶a̸y̢s̵ g̴o̷ h̶o̸m̢e̵. T̴w̷o̶ p̸e̢o̵p̴l̷e̶ o̸n̢ f̵a̴c̷u̶l̸t̢y̵ k̴n̷o̶w̸ w̢h̵y̴, o̷n̶e̸ o̢f̵ t̴h̷e̶m̸ h̢e̵l̴p̷s̶, a̸n̢d̵ b̴o̷t̶h̸ l̢o̵o̴k̷ y̶o̸u̢ i̵n̴ t̷h̶e̸ e̢y̵e̴ e̷v̶e̸r̢y̵ m̴o̷r̶n̸i̢n̵g̴. T̷H̸E̢ N̵U̴M̶B̷E̸R̢ O̵N̴E̶ Y̸o̢u̵r̴ h̷o̶m̸e̢r̵o̴o̷m̶ i̸n̢s̵t̴r̷u̶c̸t̢o̵r̴ i̷s̶ t̸h̢e̵ m̴o̷s̶t̸ b̢e̵l̴o̷v̶e̸d̢ h̵e̴r̷o̶ i̸n̢ t̵h̴e̷ c̶o̸u̢n̵t̴r̷y̶. H̸e̢ s̵m̴i̷l̶e̸s̢ w̵i̴d̷e̶r̸ w̢h̵e̴n̷ h̶e̸ i̢s̵ a̴n̷g̶r̸y̢. S̵e̴v̷e̶n̸ y̢e̵a̴r̷s̶ a̸g̢o̵ s̴o̷m̶e̸t̢h̵i̴n̷g̶ h̸a̢p̵p̴e̷n̶e̸d̢ o̵n̴ a̷ b̶r̸i̢d̵g̴e̷, a̶n̸d̢ t̵h̴e̷ o̶n̸l̢y̵ o̴t̷h̶e̸r̢ w̵i̴t̷n̶e̸s̢s̵ t̴e̷a̶c̸h̢e̵s̴ d̷o̶w̸n̢ t̵h̴e̷ s̶a̸m̢e̵ c̴o̷r̶r̸i̢d̵o̴r̷ a̶n̸d̢ g̵o̴e̷s̶ q̸u̢i̵e̴t̷ w̶h̸e̢n̵e̴v̷e̶r̸ h̢e̵ w̴a̷l̶k̸s̢ i̵n̴. ! Read Before Enrolling The world does not wait for you and there is no plot armor. Powers run on stated limits and stop when they hit them. Injuries persist across weeks. Ranks fall as easily as they rise. Villain attacks land on their own dates whether or not you are ready, and help from a classmate always costs something. 07 Themes Merit vs. Marketability  what the board rewards is not what saves livesThe Caste Beneath the Cape  one in five never manifests, and they build your costumeInstitution vs. Individual  the system that made you discards peopleSecond Horizons  growth is bought under pressureWho Owns Might  licensing, suppression and sponsorship, one questionEarned Trust  every bond on this campus costs something to build Report to the Horizon Gate Your number goes up tonight. Bound for the Horizon

Opening scene

#Hero Academy Start **> Monday, April 6, 2076. 07:40** The train out of Shimbashi is standing room only, and every person on it is eighteen. You can tell without asking. It's in the bracelets, or the lack of them: fresh manifestations wear the Bureau's temporary band, white plastic, the kind they clip on at registration and tell you not to remove until a licensed body says so. Half the car has one. The other half has hands shoved in pockets, and you don't ask why. A century and a half after the Leap, eight people in ten wake up on their eighteenth birthday with something new under their skin. The other two wake up ordinary, and spend the rest of their lives being reminded. Nobody on this train is ordinary. Nobody on this train is licensed, either. Using what you have in public is a crime, the same weight as pulling a weapon, and everyone here knows it, which is why the boy by the door with the spiked blonde hair keeps flexing his hands and not doing anything with them. A girl with twin blonde tails reads a prep-course tablet with the expression of someone who has already passed. A tall girl in a hooded jacket stands perfectly still with her earbuds in and looks at no one. Two seats down, someone is laughing at his own joke and a girl with a pale blue braid is pretending not to hear it. Then the line curves out over the bay and the car goes quiet. Meridian Academy takes up the whole window. Reclaimed land, a wall you could land a helicopter on, a grey spire in the middle of it catching the morning like a blade. Drones move along the wall in slow lines. Somewhere behind it is District Zero, the mock city where in about two hours you are going to be told to fight, and the dorm where you might sleep tonight, and the boards where by evening every applicant in Tokyo will be able to read your number. "Bound for the Horizon," someone reads off the banner at the station. Nobody laughs. The platform empties into a walkway that empties into the Horizon Gate, and the Gate is the first thing about this place that feels honest. It is not welcoming. Sensor arches, drone eyes, Bureau staff in grey with tablets, and a line of applicants a few hundred long moving forward one scan at a time. Two thousand of you, the notice said. Fifty seats. The math does itself. Up ahead a girl with a chin-length brown bob is apologizing to someone she bumped into, then apologizing for apologizing. A boy with white hair and a long white coat stands with his weight centered like he's been told where to stand. Nobody talks to anybody. It's not rudeness. Every person in this line is measuring every other person in it, and everyone knows it, and everyone is doing it anyway. You keep your place. You keep your hands where the drones can see them. The Gate scans you, thinks about it, and lets you through, and the campus opens up: the Concourse ahead with its glass and its cafés and, mounted above all of it, the Index boards. Blank, for now. Rows of empty slots where names will go tonight. The Registration Hall is to the left. Fluorescent light, white walls, thirty processing stations, and staff who have done this two thousand times today already. "Next." You step up to the desk. The woman behind it doesn't look up from her tablet. "Name. Date of manifestation. Classification, if you know it." Hero Starting Scenario

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