Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Alliance Heights' common room, illuminating dust particles floating in the air. I shuffled toward the kitchen island, my brain still half-asleep and my body craving caffeine with the desperation of an addict. Someone had already brewed coffee, and the rich aroma pulled me forward like a siren song.
I reached for a clean mug from the cabinet just as another hand appeared, grabbing for the same one.
"Oh, sorry—"
The words died in my throat as I found myself staring directly into Momo Yaoyorozu's wide, dark eyes. For a split second, neither of us moved. Her cheeks flushed pink, and I felt an unusual warmth creeping up my neck. Last night's bath encounter flashed vividly in my mind—the steam, the water, the conversation that had veered unexpectedly into personal territory.
Yaoyorozu blinked twice, then quickly withdrew her hand. "Please, take it," she said, her normally composed voice pitched slightly higher than usual.
"Thanks," I mumbled, grabbing the mug and turning toward the coffee pot.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Jiro sitting at the counter, a steaming cup already in her hands. She looked between Yaoyorozu and me, one eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared beneath her choppy purple bangs. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk.
I gave her a subtle head shake: Not what you think.
Her smirk only deepened.
Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed on my second day—rumors.
"Morning, Yukio!" Hagakure's chipper voice cut through the awkwardness. The floating uniform bounced into the kitchen, sleeves waving excitedly. "Did you sleep well? I couldn't fall asleep at all! I kept thinking about Aizawa-sensei's test and wondering what classes will be like today and if we'll get to use our hero costumes and—"
"Breathe, Invisible Girl," I interrupted, pouring coffee into my mug. "It's too early for that many words."
"Sorry!" She didn't sound sorry at all. "I'm just excited! Our first real day of classes!"
"Some of us are still recovering from dish duty," I grumbled, taking a long sip of coffee.
Yaoyorozu had retreated to the far end of the counter, busying herself with preparing tea. She kept her eyes fixed on her task, deliberately avoiding looking in my direction.
"Speaking of dish duty," Jiro said, "how was your punishment date with Bakugo last night?"
"Romantic," I replied flatly. "Nothing says true love like industrial-strength degreaser and pruney fingers."
This earned a snort from Jiro and a giggle from Hagakure. Even Yaoyorozu's lips twitched upward slightly.
"We should head to class soon," Yaoyorozu said, checking her watch. "Aizawa-sensei seems like the type to lock the door exactly at the bell."
She wasn't wrong. I downed the rest of my coffee, the liquid scalding my throat. Worth it for the caffeine.
"Lead the way, Princess," I said.
Yaoyorozu's eyes flicked to mine for a fraction of a second, registering the nickname from our bath conversation. Her cheeks colored again before she quickly turned away.
Jiro's eyebrow climbed even higher.
I was never going to hear the end of this.
===
When we arrived at classroom 1-A, the first thing I noticed was a large yellow caterpillar on the floor.
No, not a caterpillar. Our homeroom teacher, wrapped tightly in his sleeping bag, eyes barely visible through a small opening at the top.
"Sit down," came Aizawa's muffled voice from within the fabric cocoon.
We scrambled to our assigned seats. I found myself in the third row, with Todoroki to my right and Jiro behind me. Bakugo sat near the front, his chair angled slightly away from mine. The bandage on his face from our fight was gone, but a yellowish bruise remained visible on his cheekbone.
The bell rang, and Aizawa emerged from his sleeping bag like a butterfly with a hangover. His bloodshot eyes scanned the room as he took attendance, marking each name off with mechanical efficiency.
"Congratulations on surviving your first day," he said when he finished. "Try to keep the property damage and interpersonal conflicts to a minimum today. It's a logistical nightmare." His gaze lingered pointedly on Bakugo and me.
Bakugo scoffed. I offered a lazy salute.
"Your schedule is on the board," Aizawa continued. "I'll see you this afternoon for Hero Basic Training. Until then, try not to destroy anything." With that, he slithered back into his sleeping bag and collapsed in the corner.
Our first class was English with Present Mic, who burst through the door with the energy of someone who had consumed an entire pot of coffee.
"GOOOOOD MORNING, LISTENERS!" he shouted, his voice nearly shattering my eardrums. "WELCOME TO YOUR FIRST ENGLISH LESSON AT U.A.! ARE YOU READYYYYYY?"
The class stared back at him in stunned silence.
"That's the spirit!" Present Mic continued, undeterred. "Today we're diving into English conversation skills! Heroes often work internationally, so communicating in English is ESSENTIAL!"
He paced the front of the room, his leather jacket creaking with each exaggerated movement. His hair defied gravity even more impressively than Bakugo's.
"Let's start with something simple," he said, scanning the room. "Can anyone tell me, in English, why they want to become a hero?"
Silence. A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"No volunteers? Then I'll have to PICK SOMEONE!" His voice boomed again, causing several students to wince. "How about... YOU!" He pointed dramatically at me.
Perfect. I'd been born and raised in Tokyo in my previous life, but I'd spent enough time in American casinos to pick up fluent English. This would be easy.
"Mr. Murano! Please tell us, in English, why you want to become a hero!"
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "I want to become a hero because it represents the most efficient path to financial security and social status in a society that values flashy Quirks over practical skills," I replied in perfect English, complete with a slightly sarcastic American accent. "The hero industry offers unparalleled opportunities for brand development, merchandising, and endorsement deals, making it an optimal career choice for someone with my particular talents."
The classroom fell completely silent. Present Mic stood frozen, his finger still pointed at me, his mouth hanging slightly open. Even Aizawa had unzipped his sleeping bag enough to peek out.
"That's... AMAZINGLY FLUENT ENGLISH!" Present Mic finally recovered, his voice reaching new decibel heights. "WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO SPEAK LIKE THAT, LISTENER?"
I shrugged. "Around."
For the rest of the class, Present Mic peppered me with increasingly complex English questions, which I answered with ease. My classmates alternated between impressed looks and annoyed glares. Bakugo, in particular, seemed ready to blow up his desk.
===
The Omega Mess cafeteria buzzed with activity as students from all courses converged for lunch. The food, prepared by Lunch Rush, looked and smelled amazing—a far cry from the instant ramen and convenience store meals that sustained Kimiko and me at home.
I claimed a table in the center of the room, giving me a perfect vantage point to observe the social dynamics unfolding around me. Jiro slid into the seat across from me, her earphone jacks swaying gently as she set down her tray.
"That was quite a show in English class," she said, picking up her chopsticks. "Present Mic nearly lost his mind."
"I aim to please," I replied, digging into my rice.
"Oh! Can I sit with you guys?" Hagakure appeared, her tray floating in mid-air.
"Be my guest, Invisible Girl."
"It's Toru!" she corrected cheerfully, settling in beside Jiro. "You should really try to remember names, Yukio. Especially of girls you flirt with!"
"I don't flirt with anyone."
Jiro snorted. "Right."
I scanned the cafeteria, noting how our class had already begun to split into distinct social groups. Bakugo sat at a table with Kirishima trying to engage him in conversation. Sero and Kaminari sat nearby, laughing about something. They formed a buffer zone between Bakugo and the rest of the world—brave souls.
At another table, Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka huddled together in earnest discussion. Iida's hands chopped through the air as he spoke, while Midoriya scribbled notes in a small book. The overachievers' table, clearly.
Todoroki and Tokoyami each sat alone at separate tables, both radiating "do not approach" energy that kept even the friendliest students at bay.
"May I join you?"
Yaoyorozu stood beside our table, clutching her tray with both hands. Her posture was perfect, but her eyes betrayed a hint of uncertainty.
"Of course!" Hagakure replied before I could say anything. "We have plenty of room!"
Yaoyorozu hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly to me before she took the seat beside me.
"So," Jiro leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, "what was that all about in English class, Murano? You've been holding out on us."
I shrugged. "I'm a man of many talents."
"Clearly," Yaoyorozu said, her composure seemingly restored. "Your grammar was impeccable. Did you study abroad?"
"Something like that."
"He's so mysterious!" Hagakure giggled. "Always giving vague answers."
"Mystery is part of my charm," I said, winking at where I guessed her eyes might be.
"Or part of your act," Jiro countered.
Before I could respond, Yaoyorozu changed the subject. "What do you all think our Hero Basic Training will involve this afternoon? The syllabus mentioned practical exercises."
"Maybe combat training?" Jiro suggested. "That would be cool."
"I hope we get to wear our costumes!" Hagakure bounced in her seat. "I designed mine myself!"
The conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that, shifting between topics like costume designs, Quirk applications, and speculation about our afternoon class. Yaoyorozu gradually relaxed, even laughing at one of my dry comments about Bakugo's hair looking like an angry pomeranian.
It was... nice. Almost normal. The kind of casual lunch conversation I hadn't experienced since before I died. For a brief moment, I forgot about punishment duties, sister complications, and the pressure of U.A. I was just a guy having lunch with classmates.
The illusion didn't last long.
===
"I wonder who'll be teaching Hero Basic Training," Uraraka said as we filed back into classroom 1-A after lunch.
"I heard it might be Midnight," Kaminari replied, a hopeful gleam in his eye.
The door to the classroom suddenly slammed open with enough force to rattle the windows.
"I AM..." a booming voice declared, "COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!"
All Might stood in the doorway, his massive frame nearly filling it completely. He wore his Silver Age costume—a skintight red, blue, and yellow suit that showed off every ridiculous muscle. His perpetual smile gleamed in the fluorescent lighting, and those signature blond antennae stood proud atop his head.
The class erupted in excited gasps and whispers.
"It's really him!"
"All Might is our teacher!"
"He looks even bigger in person!"
All Might strode to the front of the classroom, his cape billowing behind him without any apparent wind source. Every movement was theatrical, calculated for maximum visual impact.
I leaned back in my chair, studying him with newfound interest. This wasn't just a hero. This was the ultimate power player, the man who held all the cards in the hero industry. The jackpot personified.
All Might struck a pose, hands on his hips. "Welcome to Hero Basic Training! The class that will mold you into proper heroes! Today, we jump right into the good stuff!"
He pulled out a card with the word "BATTLE" emblazoned on it.
"BATTLE TRAINING!" he announced, his voice echoing off the walls.
The classroom erupted again.
"And for this, you'll need these!" All Might pressed a button, and panels slid out from the wall, numbered storage units containing our hero costumes. "Costumes based on your Quirk registrations and the designs you submitted!"
The excitement in the room reached fever pitch.
"Get changed and meet me at Ground Beta! PLUS ULTRA!"
With that, he bounded out of the room as dramatically as he'd entered, leaving a classroom full of starstruck teenagers in his wake.