"Good morning, future symbols of peace!"
Yu Takeyama's voice, faked with an authority she didn't feel, bounced off the tiled walls of the small bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror, still in her pajamas, holding a toothbrush in front of her mouth.
"I am the pro hero, Mt. Lady, and I will be your guide in the complex world of…!"
She cut herself off, frowning at her own reflection. "No, that sounds stupid. It's too cheerful, they're going to think I'm an idiot."
She took a deep breath and tried again, lowering her voice, aiming for a harsher, more battle-hardened tone. "Listen up, rookies. The modern battlefield isn't just about the strength you can project. It's about public perception. And I'm here to teach you how to control that narrative…"
"With that tone, it sounds like you're trying to scare a cat out of a tree."
The voice came, muffled, from the kitchen, along with the unmistakable sound of someone chewing toast. Yu jumped, nearly dropping her toothbrush into the sink.
"Izuku! I told you not to spy on me! I'm in the middle of a very important and delicate mental preparation!"
Izuku's head peeked around the doorframe. He was already fully dressed in U.A.'s blue gym uniform and was finishing a piece of bread.
"I wasn't spying, I can just hear you from the entrance. You should eat breakfast," he said, his mouth still a little full. "You'll get into a very bad mood if you don't eat. And you don't want your first impression as a teacher to be that of a grumpy, hungry ogress."
"I'm not an ogress! I'm a consummate professional!" she retorted, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "And this is my first official class! I have every right to be nervous! You should be too! It's our first day!"
"I'm fine," he replied calmly, shrugging. "My role is simple. Observe, take notes, support. I don't have to speak in front of twenty prodigies."
"Of course it's simple for you!" she groaned, letting her forehead fall against the cold, hard surface of the mirror. "You don't have to face a class full of teenagers who probably know more about hero theory than I do! They're going to tear me to shreds, Izuku! They're going to ask about my property damage rates and I'm going to have to run for it!"
"They won't," Izuku said, finally stepping into the bathroom. "You're Mt. Lady, one of the most famous heroes in Japan. They're going to admire you."
"They'll admire me for the first thirty seconds! Right up until I open my mouth and they realize I have no idea what I'm talking about!"
Izuku sighed, a long, patient sound. He finished his toast and walked over, gently taking the toothbrush from her hand and putting it back in its place.
"You'll be fine," he said with a confidence unusual for his age. "Just be yourself. Talk about what you know. And if all else fails, remember the lesson plan we prepared. It's bulletproof."
She stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. "Your lesson plan starts with my biggest public humiliation!"
"It's an excellent icebreaker," he replied, without a hint of irony in his voice. He turned to leave the bathroom. "Now, eat something. I made you coffee. Don't let it get cold."
"I'm not an ogress!" she yelled at his back. "I'm a professional!"
She was left alone in the bathroom, staring at her terrified reflection in the mirror.
The 1-A classroom was buzzing with energy. Twenty of the most promising young people from all over the country sat at their desks. Conversations overlapped, creating a murmur of anticipation. Some introduced themselves, others silently sized up those they considered their direct competition.
The door slid open with a force that instantly silenced the room.
A man who looked like he hadn't slept well in a decade shuffled in. He wore baggy black clothes and a sort of frayed white scarf wrapped several times around his neck. He stopped in front of the class, his tired, deeply bored gaze sweeping over each and every one of them.
"Eight seconds for you all to be quiet. Not bad. But you can do better."
His voice was a monotone, devoid of any emotion or inflection. It seemed as if speaking was a physical effort for him.
"I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you."
Without further ceremony, he dropped a pile of gym uniforms on his desk. The dull thud echoed in the silence. "Put these on. Meet me on the training field in five minutes. Don't be late."
A boy with dark blue hair and glasses shot to his feet, his movement so rigid it was almost mechanical. He raised his hand at a perfect angle. "Excuse me, sensei! What about the opening ceremony and the school orientation? It's an important tradition!"
"A waste of time," Aizawa replied, not even bothering to look at him. He was already turning away. "If you really want to be heroes, you don't have time for that nonsense."
He turned to leave and, only then, as if it were an unimportant detail he had just remembered, he jerked his thumb toward a figure who had remained silent in a corner of the classroom from the beginning, going almost unnoticed.
"Oh, and this is Midoriya. He's an assistant. Don't bother him."
And with that, he left the classroom, leaving behind a silence thick with confusion.
The class erupted into a murmur of quiet questions.
"An assistant?" said a blond boy with a black, lightning-bolt-shaped streak in his hair. "Isn't he our age? I thought he was another student who got here early."
"Maybe he's a third-year prodigy!" exclaimed a boy with spiky red hair, flashing a row of sharp teeth in a grin. "That's so manly!"
A girl with earphone jacks hanging from her earlobes shrugged. "Or maybe it's just an errand. U.A. does weird stuff."
Bakugo said nothing. He didn't join the speculation. His hands clenched into fists on his desk, so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tense, and his gaze, filled with a cold, contained fury, was fixed on the figure now walking calmly to the front of the classroom.
Deku. Here. Posing as a damn assistant? What the hell was going on?
Sitting next to each other, Ibara and Melissa exchanged a small, discreet smile of support for Izuku. Uraraka, sitting a couple of desks away, noticed the interaction. She didn't understand the connection, but her curiosity was piqued.
Izuku stopped in front of the class. He didn't seem nervous or intimidated by the twenty pairs of eyes fixed on him. He simply observed them, his green eyes seeming to assess each one of them in a fraction of a second. "It will be a pleasure working with you," he said, his voice calm but firm, and it carried effortlessly throughout the room. "Now let's go find Mr. Aizawa. He'll be in a bad mood if we're late."
On the training field, Aizawa explained the Quirk Apprehension Test, mentioning in passing that the student with the lowest score would be expelled. The tension from the threat was palpable.
Izuku stood by his side, holding a tablet, ready to take notes.
The first test was the 50-meter dash.
"On your marks," the meter's robotic voice announced. "Get set… Go!"
Tenya Iida, the boy with the glasses, exploded off the starting line. The engines in his calves roared. He crossed the finish line in 3.04 seconds.
"Impressive," Izuku muttered, typing something on his tablet. Aizawa glanced at him.
"Your thoughts?"
"Straight-line speed. A lot of power, but I wonder about his lateral agility. Villains don't usually run in straight lines."
Aizawa didn't respond, but an almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he agreed.
More tests followed. The grip strength test, where a boy with multiple arms, Mezo Shoji, crushed the meter with 540 kilograms. In the standing long jump, Katsuki Bakugo used his explosions to propel himself across the entire sandpit.
Everything unfolded with a mix of awe and panic from the students. Izuku remained silent, his fingers flying across the tablet's screen, his face focused.
Finally, it was time for the ball throw.
It was Ochako Uraraka's turn. She looked nervous as she stepped into the circle.
"She doesn't look very strong," commented the boy with the black streak, Kaminari. "I don't know how she's going to get a good score on this."
Ochako took a deep breath, touched the ball with her five fingertips, and tossed it toward the sky. There was no explosion of power. The ball simply… went up. It floated, and kept floating, rising effortlessly, getting smaller and smaller until it became a tiny dot and finally disappeared into the deep blue sky.
A bewildered silence fell over the group.
Aizawa looked at his meter. A symbol blinked on the screen: ∞.
"Infinity."
The silence was broken by exclamations of amazement.
"Infinity?!" yelled the pink-skinned girl. "How is that possible?"
Izuku, who had been watching with particular interest, couldn't stop a genuine, bright smile from forming on his face. "Wow," he murmured to himself. He remembered the brief introduction after the exam. Ibara and Melissa had introduced her to him. "Hi! I'm Ochako Uraraka! What you guys did was amazing!" He had liked her instantly. Her Quirk was simple, elegant, and ridiculously powerful if used correctly.
He turned to Aizawa, his voice regaining its analytical tone. "Gravity control. Contact-based application. Incredibly versatile. She could lift debris, immobilize an opponent, or, like now, completely ignore physical limitations. Her potential is enormous."
Aizawa just nodded, his impassive face betraying nothing. "Next."
It was Ibara's turn. Before entering the throwing circle, her eyes searched for Izuku. She was pale, her hands trembling slightly. He noticed and, breaking his observer's stance, took a couple of steps closer, leaning in as if to give her a last-minute instruction.
"Ibara," he whispered, his voice so low that only she could hear it amid the class's murmuring. "Forget they're watching you. Forget the score, forget Aizawa. Look at me."
She looked up, finding a calmness in his eyes.
"Remember what I told you about the 'blessing' you carry inside? It's not something you have to force. You just have to guide it. Just do what you know how to do."
She nodded once, a short, decisive movement. The nervousness in her eyes was replaced by a focused calm. She stepped into the circle, took the ball, and closed her eyes. Her hair vines writhed with a life of their own, wrapping the ball and her arm in a green cocoon. With a fluid motion, she threw. The vines acted like a tension spring, catapulting the ball with astonishing force.
"551.4 meters," Aizawa announced. An excellent result that placed her among the top scores. Ibara let out a sigh of relief and, as she left the circle, gave Izuku a small, grateful smile.
Then, it was Bakugo's turn. He stepped forward, a wild grin on his face. He radiated an arrogant confidence that made several students back away.
"DIE!"
The explosion was massive. A shockwave of heat and force swept across the field, forcing everyone to shield their faces. The ball shot into the sky, leaving a trail of black smoke.
"705.2 meters," Aizawa said, looking at the meter without flinching. He turned to Izuku and asked quietly, so only he could hear. "Your opinion."
Izuku didn't take his eyes off the scoreboard. "He's loud," he said coldly. "It's all fireworks. If I wanted to hit him in the middle of that attack, I'd know exactly where he was coming from. He wastes a huge amount of energy just to show off. It's inefficient."
"Inefficient how?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The explosion is omnidirectional. It pushes the ball, yes, but it also pushes the air in every other direction. He could get twice the distance with half the energy if he focused it on a single vector. It's an attack meant to intimidate, not to be effective. All brute force, zero finesse."
Aizawa let out a small grunt that, in his limited repertoire of expressions, could be interpreted as a clear sign of approval.
The test ended. The panic was palpable. A short boy with what looked like grapes for hair was crying in a corner.
Aizawa displayed the results on a holographic screen. And then, with a smile that looked more like a villain's than a hero's, he revealed the truth.
"The expulsion thing was a lie."
A silence. Then, a collective sigh of relief so great it seemed to create its own breeze.
"It was pretty obvious it was a trick!" exclaimed a tall girl with a ponytail, though her pale face gave her away.
"Alright, that's enough for today," Aizawa said, his tone as tired as ever. "Go back to the classroom, you'll find your schedules on your desks. Your next class starts in ten minutes. Don't be late."
With that, he got into his signature yellow sleeping bag, which he'd pulled from nowhere, lay down on the ground, and was instantly asleep.
The class, confused but immensely relieved, returned to the main building. A buzz of excitement filled the air as they walked through the halls and checked the schedules they had picked up.
"Ooh! Look at this!" exclaimed Mina Ashido, the pink-skinned girl, waving her paper. "The next class is 'Public Image and Media Management'! And the instructor is Mt. Lady!"
The blond boy, Denki Kaminari, pumped his fist in the air. "Awesome! The hottest rookie right now! This is going to be the best class ever, I'm telling you!"
"She's a hero with a lot of field experience, despite her short career," Iida added, adjusting his glasses. "Her perspective will be very valuable."
Bakugo let out a "Tsk" of pure contempt, not caring about the subject in the slightest.
The Class 1-A group walked excitedly through the halls, their voices echoing with anticipation at meeting such a famous and popular hero. They turned a corner and stopped in front of a large door. The plaque read: "Special Hero Studies Seminar."
The door opened.
Inside, a deathly pale Yu Takeyama, with a smile so forced it looked physically painful, was standing rigidly next to a projector. She wore an impeccable and elegant business suit, but her posture was that of someone bracing for an inevitable impact.
Beside her, Izuku, tablet in hand, looked at her and gave her a slow, deliberate thumbs-up. It was supposed to be a silent gesture of support, but the serious look on his face only seemed to increase her panic.
The class began to file in, taking their seats with a murmur of excitement.
"It's really her!"
"Wow, she's taller in person!"
From the back of the classroom, Kaminari's voice was heard, a confused but perfectly audible whisper in the quiet room.
"Wait a minute… isn't that Mr. Aizawa's assistant?"
All eyes turned from Yu to Izuku, and then back to Yu. An awkward silence settled over the room.