One week had passed since the entrance exam results were announced and Daichi officially joined U.A. High School. To say things had been interesting would be an understatement. Unlike what he had expected—rigid training and grueling hero work—his time in Class 1-A had been surprisingly balanced. Sure, their first day involved a combat assessment, but after that whirlwind introduction, the classes had settled into something more structured.
U.A. wasn't just a training ground for heroes. It was also, somehow, a functioning high school. Every morning started with regular academics—mathematics, literature, history, even modern ethics. Though tailored to accommodate hero society, these classes still bore a striking resemblance to the ones he remembered from his past life. Afternoons, however, were reserved for hero-centric curriculum: Quirk theory, combat strategy, rescue operations, support item familiarization, and the ever-dreaded physical training.
Daichi quickly adapted. His previous life as a college student gave him an edge in theoretical learning, and his sound-based Quirk, rooted in Echo Echo's abilities, gave him flexibility in practical lessons. He learned how to create controlled sound waves, use echolocation to map areas, and efficiently manage his clones. He even began practicing synchronized team tactics using his duplicates—a skill that caught the eye of even the more battle-hardened students.
But beyond the classes and training, what truly surprised Daichi was how tightly knit Class 1-A had already become.
The cafeteria, though bustling with students from all departments, had a corner unofficially claimed by Class 1-A. Every day, they sat together, forming a ragtag circle of diverse personalities. There was never a dull moment.
Kaminari Denki had solidified his role as the class's official comic relief. Today, he was recounting his recent, mildly disastrous attempt to cook curry. "So I thought I was grabbing garam masala, right?" he said, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. "Turns out it was powdered wasabi! My mouth was a flamethrower for twenty minutes."
"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't short-circuit yourself," Jiro Kyoka replied dryly, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. "That explains the smell in the dorm kitchen last night."
"I thought that was Mineta's socks," Mina Ashido chimed in with a grin, her eyes wide with exaggerated horror. "But that makes more sense."
Mineta, sitting several seats away, perked up defensively. "Hey! My socks smell like courage, okay? Manly musk!"
"Sounds like something that should be sealed in a biohazard container," Jiro deadpanned again, drawing a soft laugh from Daichi.
Jiro had slowly warmed up to him over the past few days. She wasn't particularly loud or extroverted, but her wit was sharp, and she had a tendency to smirk at Daichi's occasional sound-tech references. Their shared interest in audio manipulation made for solid conversations, and she was the only one in class who didn't think his clone harmonization training was "extra."
Momo Yaoyorozu sat across from them, politely nibbling on her rice while flipping through a reference book. Even while eating, she read. It was like watching a multitasking machine. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, responding to Kaminari's story, "wasabi's active compound is allyl isothiocyanate. It triggers pain receptors, not heat receptors like capsaicin. That's why it hits your nose and not your tongue."
There was a pause.
Kirishima leaned over to Tokoyami and whispered, "Did she just cast a spell?"
Tokoyami, as usual, looked utterly unfazed. "A spell of knowledge and scholarly pursuit. Let it empower you."
"I have no idea what that means, but it sounded cool," Kaminari said, pumping his fist.
"Don't encourage him," Tsuyu Asui said in her usual laid-back tone, taking a sip of her miso soup. "He's already got the brainpower of a half-charged phone."
"Ribbit," Mineta added, trying to copy Tsuyu. She shot him a flat stare that made him slouch back in silence.
Hagakure Toru—the ever-bubbly, ever-invisible girl—laughed. "You guys are hilarious! This is the best lunch I've ever had. No offense to my old school, but they didn't have this kind of energy."
"Or diversity in personalities," Momo added with a polite smile.
Indeed, Daichi realized that Class 1-A had become its own kind of ecosystem. The personalities didn't clash—they complemented.
Mina and Hagakure brought unrelenting optimism. Kaminari was the energy source. Yaoyorozu provided calm intelligence. Tsuyu was grounded and direct. Tokoyami added his dramatic flair of poetic gloom. Kirishima was passionate and strong-willed, frequently labeling anything admirable as "manly."
Then there was Todoroki, the silent enigma. He ate in silence, offering no comment and making no eye contact. A wall of stillness amidst the noise. Daichi had tried to talk to him once during lunch, asking about Quirk regulation classes. The boy had nodded and given a short answer, his heterochromatic eyes cool and unreadable.
Bakugo… surprisingly sat with them as well. Though not actively part of the banter, he didn't shun it either. Occasionally, he muttered explosive responses if someone got too loud or annoying—especially Kaminari. But Daichi could sense that Bakugo was adjusting, just like everyone else.
He remembered the moment during the entrance exam when Bakugo challenged him, eyes burning with competitive resolve. The same fire was still there, tempered slightly by the presence of peers equally driven. It created friction, yes—but also potential.
During one particularly memorable lunch, Kirishima tried to rope Bakugo into a discussion about camping gear. "I'm telling you, bro, if we go camping, you gotta bring one of those portable grills. Think of all the meat you could blast-cook."
Bakugo snarled. "I ain't cooking for any of you extras."
"But imagine the protein gains, man!" Kirishima beamed.
Jiro shook her head with a chuckle. "They're bonding over barbecue. How touching."
Daichi smirked and leaned toward her. "Bet we could start a campfire using our Quirks."
"Yours maybe," Jiro said, tapping her earjacks against her metal bento box. "Mine's better for sound tricks. Maybe scare off some bears with a subwoofer clone."
"I feel like Kaminari would accidentally electrocute the marshmallows," Daichi quipped.
"Hey!" Kaminari protested. "That happened one time!"
It was this ebb and flow, the comfort of being around others who understood the burden of power, that started to feel… normal.
After a week of this dynamic, Daichi had memorized not just his classmates' names but their rhythms. The way Tokoyami recited poetry under his breath during lunch. The way Mina and Hagakure always talked with their hands, even though Hagakure didn't have visible ones. The way Todoroki's presence made a corner of the table slightly colder—literally and metaphorically.
During Hero Ethics class, Iida Tenya would constantly raise his hand with military precision. If Aizawa asked a question, Iida's arm would snap up like a piston. He was the class representative in spirit, if not yet by vote.
Daichi, meanwhile, observed. He joined in where it felt natural, offered insight during Quirk discussion, helped Momo carry books once, and even gave Tsuyu some tips on frequency resonance for better sound perception underwater.
Still, the real connection he felt was with Jiro. Their Quirks weren't identical, but close enough to appreciate each other's strengths. She understood the strain of sonic overload and the need to regulate frequency flow. Together, they talked about pitch-shifting techniques and using echoes for stealth mapping. He even showed her how he used his clones in staggered harmony to create disorienting surround sound effects.
She'd given him a rare smile at that.
"Not bad, Daichi," she said. "You might actually be more useful than Kaminari."
"Gee, thanks," Daichi said with mock offense. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day."
Their banter had become a daily rhythm—subtle, unspoken, but unmistakably warm.
On Friday afternoon, as the bell rang and the class started packing up, Iida stood tall at the front of the room. "Class 1-A! I propose we consider organizing a study group to prepare for next week's Quirk Theory quiz!"
Half the class groaned. Mina flopped forward onto her desk. "Nooo, we just survived the first week. Let us rest in peace."
"You can rest after you understand how Quirks interact under stress-induced environments!" Iida declared, practically vibrating with purpose.
Kaminari gave him a thumbs-up. "You organize it, I'll bring snacks."
"I don't trust your snacks," Jiro muttered.
"Why not?!"
"Wasabi curry, Kaminari. Wasabi. Curry."
As the students filtered out in groups, Daichi found himself walking beside Jiro again, their backpacks slung casually over one shoulder. They took the same route to the subway station, chatting about the week.
"You think we'll survive this?" she asked half-seriously.
"We already have. The hard part is staying sane through Kaminari's cooking stories."
She laughed, brushing her earjack against her cheek. "That's fair. But seriously… I'm glad you're here."
Daichi blinked, surprised by the sincerity. Then, he smiled. "Me too, Kyoka."
And as they reached the station, the hum of trains and the echo of conversation surrounded them. It wasn't the noise of chaos, Daichi realized.
It was the sound of belonging.