The morning air was crisp as Lucian stepped out of his apartment building, the weight of his situation settling over him like a heavy cloak. Today wasn't just another day—it was the beginning of his life as a U.A. student.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, feeling the Dimensional Compass pulse faintly against his side through the fabric. The familiar warmth was oddly comforting as he navigated the busy streets of Musutafu, weaving between salary workers rushing to catch trains and students in various school uniforms chatting excitedly about their day ahead.
This is really happening, he thought, watching the city come alive around him. The sounds were sharper here than he remembered from his previous life—car engines, distant construction, the hum of conversations in rapid Japanese that his mind somehow processed effortlessly. I'm actually going to U.A.
A group of elementary school kids ran past, their backpacks bouncing as they laughed about something one of them had said. One of them—a little girl with what looked like butterfly wings sprouting from her shoulders—took a small hop and fluttered a few feet off the ground before landing again, giggling at her friends' amazed reactions.
Lucian couldn't help but smile. In his old world, something like that would have been impossible, miraculous. Here, it was just Tuesday morning.
The walk gave him time to think—maybe too much time. Questions swirled in his mind like a storm. What if someone discovered he wasn't supposed to be here? What if his quirks acted up during class? What if he couldn't keep up with students who'd actually earned their spots through the grueling entrance exam? What if they could tell he was a fraud just by looking at him?
[Emotional state: 78% anxiety, 22% determination. Recommendation: focus on immediate objectives.]
"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath, earning a curious glance from a passing businessman. "You don't have to pretend to belong somewhere you've only seen on TV."
[Correction: user legitimacy confirmed by R.O.B. integration. Legal status: authentic. Identity verification: complete.]
Lucian sighed, pausing at a crosswalk as the light turned red. The compass was right, technically. R.O.B. had made sure his presence here was legitimate, complete with paperwork, academic records, and even fabricated childhood memories that would pass casual inspection. But that didn't make him feel any less like an imposter walking into someone else's life.
A news broadcast played on a nearby screen, showing footage of pro heroes responding to what looked like a minor villain incident across town. The reporter was discussing the heroes' quick response time and effective teamwork, praising their coordination and minimal collateral damage. Lucian found himself analyzing their movements, their quirk usage, their tactical decisions—knowledge that came from watching this world as fiction, now suddenly relevant to his reality.
I know things about this world that I shouldn't, he realized with a start. I know about All for One, about the League of Villains, about what's coming. Does that make me responsible for doing something about it? Can I even change anything, or will the story just... course-correct around me?
The light changed, and he forced himself to keep walking. Those were problems for Future Lucian to worry about. Present Lucian just needed to survive his first day without blowing his cover.
As he crested the hill, U.A. High School came into view. The massive complex sprawled before him, all gleaming steel and modern architecture, exactly like he remembered from the anime but somehow more imposing in person. The main building stretched toward the sky like a monument to heroism itself, its windows catching the morning sun and throwing golden reflections across the courtyard.
He stopped walking, his chest tightening. "Holy shit..."
Students streamed through the gates in steady flows, their crisp uniforms marking them as the elite of the elite. Heroes-in-training, every one of them. Kids who had passed one of the most competitive entrance exams in the country, who had quirks refined enough and personalities strong enough to convince U.A.'s faculty they were worth investing in.
And now, supposedly, so was he.
The campus was even larger than it had appeared in the show. Multiple buildings spread across carefully landscaped grounds, connected by wide paths and dotted with training facilities that looked more like military installations than school equipment. In the distance, he could see what had to be one of the training grounds—a complex of towers and obstacles that made his stomach clench with anticipation and dread.
This is where it all happens, he thought, memories of pivotal scenes flashing through his mind. The Sports Festival, the villain attacks, the training camps. All of it starts here.
The compass pulsed again, more insistently this time.
[Status: arrival confirmed. Entry required for mission progression.]
"Yeah, I know," Lucian breathed, forcing his feet to move again. "Just... give me a second to process that I'm about to walk into the most famous hero school in the world."
A couple of older students—third years, judging by their confident stride and casual authority—walked past him, deep in conversation about internships and agency placements. One of them had what looked like retractable blades growing from his forearms, while the other seemed to shimmer slightly, as if he wasn't entirely solid.
Everyone here has a quirk, Lucian realized. Everyone here has something that makes them special, something they've trained with their entire lives. And I've had mine for exactly one day.
The gates loomed larger with each step. His palms were sweating, and he wiped them on his pants, hoping no one would notice his nerves. Students flowed around him, chatting with friends, reviewing notes, or simply walking with the confidence of people who knew they belonged.
Just act natural, he told himself. You belong here. R.O.B. made sure of that. You have the paperwork, the background, the quirk registration. You're legitimate.
But as he approached the entrance, another thought struck him—one that made his stomach drop.
Wait... what class am I even supposed to be in?
He'd been so caught up in the surreal nature of his situation that he'd barely looked at his enrollment papers beyond confirming he was registered at U.A. The reality of actually attending classes, following a schedule, interacting with specific teachers and classmates—it all suddenly felt overwhelmingly concrete.
Quickly, he pulled out the documents from his bag, scanning them while trying not to look suspicious. A group of first-year girls walked by, giggling about something, and he caught fragments of their conversation about a pop quiz in Modern Literature.
Transfer Student: Lucian Cross Year: First Assignment: Class 1-A Homeroom Teacher: Shota Aizawa (Eraser Head) Transfer Date: [Today's Date] Quirks Registered: Restoration Domain, True Autonomous Ultra Instinct Previous Education: [Fabricated private academy records] Guardian Contact: [R.O.B. had even created a fake emergency contact]
"Class 1-A," he whispered, his heart skipping a beat. "Of course it's 1-A."
The main class. Deku's class. The class that would face the League of Villains, survive the training camp attack, endure the chaos of Kamino, and emerge as some of the strongest heroes of their generation. The class at the center of everything that was about to unfold in this world.
[Observation: user has been placed in optimal position for maximum narrative impact.]
"Narrative impact?" Lucian raised an eyebrow, pretending to study a campus map while he spoke quietly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
[Classified. Insufficient clearance level. Proceed to classroom.]
"Clearance level?" Lucian frowned. "Since when do you have—"
Before he could question the compass further, the sound of the morning bell echoed across the campus. Students began moving with more urgency, and Lucian found himself swept along with the crowd, his questions temporarily forgotten in the rush to find his classroom.
The interior of U.A. was just as impressive as the outside—wide corridors with high ceilings, state-of-the-art facilities visible through classroom windows, and an atmosphere that practically hummed with potential. Digital displays showed schedules, announcements, and real-time feeds from what looked like training exercises. The floors were polished to a mirror shine, and everything had that particular smell of newness and possibility.
Following the signs and the flow of students, Lucian made his way toward the first-year wing. His heart hammered against his ribs as he walked, the weight of what he was about to face settling over him like a lead blanket. Other students moved past him with purpose, some reviewing notes, others chatting confidently with friends they'd made over the past few months of school.
They all know each other already, he realized. They've been classmates for weeks. I'm the outsider walking into an established group.
Room 1-A was exactly where the map said it would be, down a hallway lined with other first-year classrooms. He could hear the murmur of voices from within, punctuated by occasional laughter or the scrape of chairs against the floor.
He stood outside the massive door—seriously, why was it so big?—and took a deep breath. Through the frosted glass, he could see silhouettes of students already inside, their voices a low murmur of conversation. Someone was gesticulating enthusiastically, their shadow dancing against the glass.
This is it, he thought. Once I walk through this door, there's no going back. No more theoretical "what if I was in the MHA world" fantasies. This becomes real.
The compass pulsed once more, gentle and encouraging.
[Status: threshold moment detected. Recommendation: proceed with confidence. Note: excessive hesitation may attract unwanted attention.]
Lucian closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. When he opened them again, his expression had shifted. The nervous teenager was still there, but underneath was something steadier—a determination that R.O.B. had seen in him from the beginning.
He reached for the door handle, noting absently that his hand had stopped shaking.
"Here goes nothing," he murmured, and stepped inside.
—v—
The first thing that hit him was the energy. Class 1-A buzzed with conversation, nervous excitement, and the barely contained anticipation of teenagers who knew they were on the verge of something extraordinary. The second thing was the size—the classroom was huge, with tiered seating that could accommodate students with wildly different physical requirements.
The third thing was the silence that fell when he walked in.
Every head in the room turned toward him, conversations stopping mid-sentence. Twenty pairs of eyes studied the newcomer, expressions ranging from curious to confused to mildly hostile. The sudden quiet was so complete he could hear the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic from outside.
Lucian felt heat rise in his cheeks but forced himself to maintain eye contact as he surveyed the room. There they were—the faces he'd watched on screen for hundreds of episodes, now real and three-dimensional before him.
Midoriya Izuku sat near the middle of the room, his green hair unmistakable even from behind. His shoulders were tense, and Lucian could see the corner of his ever-present notebook peeking out from behind his textbook. Those wide, analytical eyes were fixed on Lucian with intense curiosity.
Bakugo Katsuki lounged in his seat near the back, arms crossed over his chest, crimson eyes narrowed in what could only be described as immediate suspicion and irritation. His posture screamed aggression held barely in check, like a coiled spring waiting for an excuse to explode.
Todoroki Shoto sat by the window, heterochromatic gaze cool and appraising. His expression was neutral, but Lucian caught the slight tilt of his head that suggested analytical interest. Sunlight caught in his distinctive hair, making the contrast between red and white even more striking.
Iida Tenya had already half-risen from his seat, his rigid posture and formal expression making it clear he was preparing to introduce himself with typical courteous authority. His hand was already moving toward his glasses in what Lucian recognized as a habitual gesture.
Uraraka Ochako sat in the second row, her brown eyes bright with friendly interest, a small smile already forming on her lips. She gave him a little wave, the gesture so natural and welcoming that some of Lucian's nervousness began to ease.
Kirishima Eijirou was grinning broadly, showing off his shark-like teeth, while Ashido Mina was practically bouncing in her seat with barely contained curiosity. Kaminari Denki looked intrigued, and Sero Hanta was leaning forward with interest.
They're all here, Lucian thought, a surreal wave of recognition washing over him. They're all actually here, and they're real people, not characters on a screen.
[Analysis: peer assessment in progress. First impressions critical. Recommend confident but non-threatening posture.]
Before anyone could speak, a tired voice cut through the silence.
"If you're done with the staring contest, take a seat."
Every head swiveled toward the front of the room, where a disheveled man in a yellow sleeping bag had somehow appeared behind the teacher's desk without anyone noticing. His hair was a messy black curtain around his face, and his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to his gaze that made Lucian's spine straighten involuntarily.
Aizawa Shota. Eraser Head. Even more intimidating in person than Lucian had expected, radiating an aura of barely contained lethality despite his relaxed posture.
Those dark eyes fixed on Lucian with laser focus, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that the pro hero was cataloging every detail—his breathing pattern, his stance, the micro-expressions that flickered across his face.
"You're the transfer student."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir," Lucian managed, his voice steadier than he felt. "Lucian Cross."
Aizawa studied him for a long moment, and Lucian had the uncomfortable feeling that the pro hero was seeing right through him—analyzing his posture, his breathing, the slight tremor in his hands that he thought he'd suppressed.
"Transfer students are rare," Aizawa said finally, his voice carrying easily through the silent classroom. "Especially mid-semester transfers to Class 1-A. The paperwork that came through was... interesting."
He pulled out a tablet, scrolling through what was presumably Lucian's file.
"Says here you have two registered quirks." Aizawa's eyes flicked up from the screen. "That's unusual."
Whispers erupted around the classroom like a chain reaction. "Two quirks?" "Is that even possible?" "Wait, like All Might?" "No way, really?" "What kind of quirks?"
Lucian's mouth went dry. He'd known this moment would come, but facing it was different from anticipating it. The weight of twenty curious stares felt like a physical pressure.
"Yes, sir," he said, fighting to keep his voice level. "Restoration Domain and True Autonomous Ultra Instinct."
The whispers intensified, tinged with awe and skepticism in equal measure. He caught fragments of conversation: "Never heard of those before," "Sound made up," "Ultra Instinct? Like from that old show?"
"Interesting names," Aizawa said, his tone giving nothing away. "We'll see what they actually do soon enough." He gestured vaguely toward the rows of desks. "Find an empty seat. We have work to do."
Lucian nodded and quickly scanned the room for open spots. There was one near Uraraka, who gave him an encouraging smile and gestured subtly to the empty desk beside her. Another was closer to the back, near some students he didn't immediately recognize.
Grateful for the friendly face, he made his way toward Uraraka's row, acutely aware of every eye still tracking his movement. His footsteps seemed abnormally loud in the settling quiet, and he could practically feel the weight of speculation following him.
"Hi," Uraraka whispered as he settled into his seat, her voice barely audible but warm with genuine welcome. "I'm Ochako Uraraka. Welcome to 1-A!"
"Thanks," he whispered back, some of the tension leaving his shoulders at her warm greeting. "Lucian Cross. Nice to meet you."
She had a presence about her that was immediately calming—something genuine and grounded that made the surreal situation feel a little more manageable. Her uniform was neat but not pristine, and there was a small smudge of what looked like ink on her sleeve that suggested she was more focused on substance than appearance.
"Two quirks, huh?" she continued in a low voice, eyes sparkling with curiosity rather than suspicion. "That's amazing! I've never met anyone with more than one before. Well, except for..." She trailed off, glancing toward where Todoroki sat.
Before he could respond, another voice interrupted—sharp and skeptical, carrying easily across the classroom.
"Tch. Two quirks my ass."
Lucian looked up to see Bakugo twisted in his seat, glaring at him with obvious hostility. The blonde's entire posture radiated aggressive skepticism, his hands clenched into fists on his desk.
"Nobody just shows up in the middle of the semester with some bullshit rare quirk combination," Bakugo continued, his voice loud enough for the entire class to hear. "Especially not to Class 1-A. What kind of strings did you have to pull, huh? Daddy buy your way in?"
The classroom fell silent again, but this time the atmosphere was tense rather than curious. Several students looked uncomfortable with the confrontation, while others watched with the fascination of people witnessing a potential fight.
"Kacchan," Midoriya said nervously, half-rising from his seat, "maybe we should—"
"Shut it, Deku!" Bakugo snapped without taking his glare off Lucian. "I don't know what kind of con you're running, transfer, but don't think you can just waltz in here and—"
"That's enough."
Aizawa's voice cut through the brewing confrontation like a blade. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as the teacher's quirk activated, his hair floating around his face and his eyes beginning to glow with a menacing red light.
The effect was immediate and profound. Bakugo's aggressive posture deflated slightly, and the whispered conversations around the room died completely. Even students who hadn't been involved in the confrontation straightened in their seats, suddenly reminded that they were in the presence of a pro hero who had zero tolerance for disruption.
"Bakugo, sit down and be quiet," Aizawa continued, his voice carrying absolute authority despite its quiet tone. "We don't have time for your attitude, and frankly, your opinion on admissions procedures isn't relevant to anyone in this room."
His gaze shifted to encompass the entire class, the red glow in his eyes making everyone acutely aware of exactly how dangerous their seemingly lazy teacher actually was.
"And the rest of you can save your gossip for lunch. We have training to do."
The red glow faded from his eyes as he canceled his quirk, but the authority in his voice remained absolute. The classroom settled into an uneasy quiet, students suddenly very interested in their textbooks.
Aizawa moved to the center of the room with fluid grace, his earlier lethargy replaced by sharp focus.
"Everyone change into your gym uniforms and meet at Training Ground Beta in fifteen minutes," he continued, his tone becoming more business-like. "Today we're doing quirk assessment tests. I want to see what you can actually do—all of you," his eyes flicked meaningfully to Lucian, "including our new addition."
The class erupted into motion, students grabbing their bags and heading for the changing rooms with practiced efficiency. Lucian remained seated for a moment, processing what had just happened.
Quirk assessment tests. On his first day. In front of everyone. With quirks he'd barely had a chance to practice.
[Status: evaluation imminent. Performance will determine social standing within peer group. Recommend optimal effort display while maintaining plausible limitations.]
No pressure, he thought grimly, finally standing to follow the others.
Uraraka paused beside him, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Don't worry about Bakugo," she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of weary familiarity. "He's like that with everyone. Well, everyone except maybe Kirishima, and even then it's more like he tolerates him."
"Thanks for the heads up," Lucian replied, managing a smile. "Any other survival tips for my first day?"
She grinned, and he could see why she'd become such a central figure in Class 1-A's social dynamic. "Don't take anything Aizawa-sensei says personally—he's tough but fair. Try not to let Mineta near you if you can help it." She gestured toward a short student with purple hair who was eyeing the girls in the class with obvious inappropriate interest. "And if Midoriya starts muttering about your quirks, just roll with it. He gets really excited about analyzing abilities."
As if summoned by his name, Midoriya appeared beside them, practically vibrating with barely contained curiosity. His notebook was already in his hand, and Lucian could see pages of dense notes and sketches visible through the cover.
"Um, excuse me, Cross-kun," he said, his voice slightly rushed with excitement. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm really curious about your quirks. The names suggest some kind of healing ability and enhanced combat reflexes, but the combination is really unusual, and I was wondering if maybe they're related somehow, like if they're both aspects of a single quirk that got categorized separately, or if you're actually one of those rare cases of genuine multiple quirk inheritance, which would be fascinating because the genetic factors involved in dual quirk manifestation are still poorly understood, and the way they might interact with each other could create entirely new applications that neither quirk would be capable of individually..."
He paused for breath, his eyes bright with the kind of analytical enthusiasm that Lucian remembered from the show but was somehow more intense in person.
"Midoriya," Uraraka interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm, "breathe."
The green-haired boy flushed red, his excitement deflating into embarrassment. "Sorry! I get carried away sometimes. I just... I really like studying quirks, and yours sound really unique."
Lucian found himself genuinely smiling for the first time since entering the classroom. There was something infectious about Midoriya's passion, a genuine enthusiasm that cut through the artificial tension of the situation.
"It's fine," Lucian said, and meant it. "I don't mind questions. Though you might want to see them in action before you start theorizing too much. I'm still figuring them out myself."
Midoriya's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "Really? That would be amazing! Thank you! I promise I won't get in the way or anything, I just—"
"We should probably get changed," Uraraka interrupted with a smile, "before Aizawa-sensei decides we're taking too long."
As they made their way toward the changing rooms, Lucian felt some of his anxiety begin to ease. Not all of it—he was still terrified about the upcoming tests—but enough to function. The initial shock of being surrounded by characters he'd only seen on screen was wearing off, replaced by the realization that these were just... people. Complicated, interesting, flawed people, but people nonetheless.
Uraraka was exactly as warm and grounding as he'd expected. Midoriya's analytical enthusiasm was endearing rather than overwhelming. Even Bakugo's hostility, while unpleasant, was understandable from his perspective—someone he didn't know walking into his carefully ordered world with claims that seemed too good to be true.
These were good people. Strange, intense, and in some cases explosive people, but good ones. And if he was careful, if he played his cards right, maybe he could actually find a place among them.
The compass pulsed gently against his side, and for once, its presence felt purely supportive.
[Observation: initial social integration proceeding within acceptable parameters. Progressing to phase two.]
Phase two? Lucian thought, but before he could dwell on it, they'd reached the changing rooms.
Time to see if his quirks could live up to the paperwork R.O.B. had created.
Time to see if Lucian Cross could truly become a hero.
—v—
The boys' changing room was a study in controlled chaos. Twenty teenage boys with various physical mutations and quirks trying to change clothes in a confined space created its own unique challenges. Lucian found himself next to a boy whose arms appeared to be made of some kind of flexible tape, while across the room someone with what looked like a bird head was carefully folding his uniform to avoid damaging it with his beak.
"So, transfer student," a voice said beside him. Lucian turned to see a red-haired boy with sharp teeth grinning at him. Kirishima Eijirou. "Two quirks, huh? That's totally manly!"
"Uh, thanks," Lucian replied, pulling on his gym shirt. "Though I'm not sure how manly healing powers are supposed to be."
"Are you kidding?" Kirishima's eyes lit up. "Being able to help people when they're hurt? That's like, the manliest thing ever! Plus, that other one—Ultra Instinct? Sounds like some serious combat ability."
"We'll see," Lucian said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. "I'm still learning what they can really do."
A blonde boy with a black streak in his hair—Kaminari—leaned into the conversation. "Dude, having two quirks is so cool! I can barely handle one, and mine tries to fry my brain every time I use it."
"Your quirk fries your brain?" Lucian asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Electrification," Kaminari explained with a rueful grin. "I can generate electricity, but if I use too much, I go all..." He made a vacant expression and gave a thumbs up. "Whey!"
Despite his nerves, Lucian found himself laughing. "That's... actually pretty impressive, even with the side effects."
"Right?" Kaminari beamed. "At least you probably don't have to worry about short-circuiting your own brain."
"No, but I might pass out from exhaustion," Lucian admitted. "Everything has a price, I guess."
As they finished changing, more of his classmates struck up conversations. Sero asked about his previous school, Ojiro wanted to know if his combat quirk worked with martial arts, and even the quieter students like Koda and Shoji offered polite nods of welcome.
The only one who remained pointedly hostile was Bakugo, who changed in aggressive silence and left without a word, his posture radiating barely controlled fury.
"Don't let Bakugo get to you," Kirishima said quietly as they filed out. "He's actually a good guy once you get past the whole... explosive personality thing. He just doesn't like surprises, and you're definitely a surprise."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lucian replied, though privately he wondered if Bakugo's instincts might be more accurate than his classmates realized. After all, Lucian was exactly the kind of surprise that should make people suspicious.
Training Ground Beta was exactly as imposing as Lucian had imagined—a sprawling outdoor facility filled with various obstacles, target ranges, and testing equipment. The space was enormous, easily several football fields in size, with different zones clearly marked for different types of exercises.
The other students of Class 1-A were already gathered when he arrived, changed into their blue gym uniforms and chatting in small groups. The morning sun was bright overhead, casting sharp shadows across the training ground and making the various pieces of equipment gleam like instruments of torture.
Aizawa stood before them with a clipboard, his expression as tired and unimpressed as ever, though Lucian was beginning to suspect the man's perpetual exhaustion was at least partially an act.
"Alright," the teacher began, his voice carrying easily across the assembled students, "some of you might remember the quirk assessment test from your entrance exam. Today we're doing something similar, but with our new transfer student and a few additional evaluations for the rest of you."
His eyes swept over the class before landing on Lucian with unmistakable intent.
"Cross, since you're new, you'll be participating in all eight standard tests. The rest of you will do selected exercises based on areas where I think you need improvement—and before anyone asks, yes, I've been taking notes on your weaknesses."
A collective groan rose from several students, while others looked worried about what specific areas Aizawa had identified as needing work.
Lucian's stomach clenched. All eight tests, in front of everyone, with quirks he'd barely had a chance to practice. The weight of twenty expectant stares felt like a physical pressure on his shoulders.
[Stress levels: critical. Recommend controlled breathing techniques and systematic approach to testing.]
Easy for you to say, he thought, but tried to slow his breathing anyway.
"The tests are simple," Aizawa continued, consulting his clipboard. "50-meter dash, grip strength, standing long jump, repeated side steps, ball throw, distance run, sit-ups, and seated toe-touch. Use your quirks however you want, but remember—this is about understanding your current capabilities, not showing off."
His gaze lingered on Bakugo for that last part, and the blonde scowled but didn't respond.
"Cross, you're up first. Let's see what these quirks of yours can actually do."
Lucian stepped forward, acutely aware of twenty pairs of eyes watching his every move. His palms were sweating again, and he wiped them on his gym shirt, trying to project confidence he didn't feel.
Around him, his classmates watched with varying degrees of curiosity, skepticism, and encouragement. Uraraka gave him a small thumbs up, while Midoriya had his notebook out and ready, pen poised to capture every detail.
"We'll start with the ball throw," Aizawa said, tossing him a standard softball. "Same test Bakugo did on his first day here. Use your quirk—or quirks—and throw as far as you can."
Lucian caught the ball, its weight familiar in his hands. He remembered Bakugo's result from the show—705.2 meters, achieved by using his explosion quirk to propel the ball like a rocket.
I need to do well enough to prove I belong here, but not so well that I attract too much attention, he thought, feeling the smooth surface of the ball against his palms. Though given that I supposedly have two quirks, some attention is probably inevitable.
"What do you think he'll do?" Uraraka whispered to Midoriya, her voice carrying just far enough for Lucian to hear.
"I'm not sure," Midoriya replied, his analytical mind already working. "If Restoration Domain really is a healing quirk, it might not help with raw throwing power. But True Autonomous Ultra Instinct sounds like it could enhance physical performance, maybe optimize his throwing technique..."
Lucian tried to block out the whispers and focus. He had two options: play it safe with a normal throw enhanced by minor Ultra Instinct reflexes, or try something more dramatic with his Restoration Domain.
The compass pulsed against his side, and suddenly he had an idea. It was risky—he'd never tried anything like it before—but the theory was sound.
What if I use Restoration Domain not to heal, but to 'restore' the ball to an optimal state? Like rejecting the forces that would slow it down—air resistance, gravity, friction...
It was a creative interpretation of his quirk's capabilities, but it felt right somehow. Restoration didn't have to mean healing. It could mean returning something to a previous or better state.
He took a deep breath, feeling for that warm pool of energy in his chest. As it flowed into his hands, golden light began to shimmer around the softball, creating patterns that looked almost like circuitry made of pure energy.
"Whoa," several students breathed, their whispered conversations stopping completely.
The light was beautiful, Lucian had to admit. It danced around the ball like liquid gold, creating small sparkles in the air that caught the sunlight. He could feel the quirk working, analyzing the ball's molecular structure and identifying the forces that would act upon it once thrown.
"Incredible," Midoriya muttered, scribbling frantically in his notebook. "The energy patterns are completely unlike anything I've seen before..."
Lucian drew back his arm, letting Ultra Instinct guide his form while maintaining the Restoration Domain around the ball. His body moved with fluid precision, every muscle coordinating perfectly for maximum power and accuracy. The theory was simple: instead of healing damage, he'd reject or minimize the air resistance and gravitational forces that would slow the ball down.
He threw.
The ball rocketed forward with a brilliant golden trail, moving far faster than any normal human throw should have been possible. It sailed over the testing field, over the fence, and disappeared into the distance, its golden contrail slowly fading in the air.
Aizawa's device beeped: 847.3 meters.
Silence fell over the training ground like a physical weight.
"Holy crap," Kaminari whispered, his voice carrying in the stillness.
"That's... that's almost as far as Bakugo's explosion throw," Kirishima said, his voice filled with awe and disbelief.
Bakugo himself was staring at the display with a mixture of shock and fury, his hands clenched into fists so tight that small explosions were popping from his palms.
"What the hell kind of quirk—" he started, but Aizawa cut him off with a look.
"Interesting," the teacher said, making notes on his clipboard with what might have been approval. "You used your healing quirk to reduce environmental resistance. Creative application of a non-obvious use case."
Lucian nodded, trying to keep his expression modest despite the surge of pride in his chest. "I figured if I could 'restore' the ball to a state where those forces hadn't affected it yet..."
"Smart thinking," Aizawa said, though his eyes remained analytical. "But I can see the strain it put on you. That kind of reality manipulation must be exhausting."
He was right. Lucian's hands were trembling slightly, and he could feel his energy reserves significantly depleted from that one throw. The golden shimmer around his fingers was fading, leaving behind a dull ache in his chest where his quirk's energy pool resided.
[Warning: stamina at 67% capacity. Recommend conservative usage for remaining tests.]
Noted, Lucian thought, flexing his fingers to work out the tremors. Good thing there are seven more tests to pace myself through.
"Next test," Aizawa continued, seemingly unbothered by the murmurs of amazement still rippling through the class. "50-meter dash."
As they moved to the track, several of his classmates approached him with varying expressions of awe, curiosity, and calculation.
"That was incredible!" Midoriya said, appearing at his elbow with notebook in hand. "You used your quirk in a completely unconventional way! The applications for rescue work alone would be amazing—you could restore structural integrity to damaged buildings, or reject harmful forces from affecting people during disasters..."
"The light show was pretty cool too," Ashido added with a grin. "Very dramatic! I like the sparkly effects."
"Midoriya," Lucian said with a small smile, "you're muttering again."
The boy flushed. "Sorry! I just—this is really cool. I've never seen a quirk work like that before. The way you conceptualized 'restoration' as rejecting negative forces rather than just healing damage... it suggests your quirk might be way more versatile than the name implies."
"Maybe," Lucian said carefully. "I'm still figuring out what it can do."
As they lined up for the dash, Lucian caught Uraraka's eye. She gave him a thumbs up and a bright smile that made some of his nervousness fade, while Iida nodded approvingly and adjusted his glasses in what Lucian was starting to recognize as a gesture of respect.
Even some of the quieter students were looking at him with new interest. Todoroki's heterochromatic gaze was more focused now, analytical in a way that suggested he was reassessing his initial impression.
Only Bakugo remained hostile, glaring at him with barely contained fury.
"Don't get cocky, transfer," the blonde snarled as they took their positions at the starting line. "One lucky throw doesn't mean shit."
"Wasn't planning on it," Lucian replied evenly, crouching into starting position.
"Ready?" Aizawa called from beside the track, stopwatch in hand.
Lucian took a deep breath, feeling for the electric sensation of Ultra Instinct. This time, instead of forcing it like he had during his first experimental attempts in his apartment, he let it flow naturally, trusting his body to know what to do.
The starting signal rang out, and Lucian exploded forward.
Ultra Instinct was different from what he'd expected based on the anime. It wasn't just enhanced speed or reflexes—it was optimization. Every step was perfectly placed for maximum efficiency, every muscle fiber coordinated for optimal power transfer. His breathing fell into a rhythm that maximized oxygen uptake, his posture adjusted automatically to reduce wind resistance.
The world seemed to slow around him as his enhanced perception kicked in. He could see individual blades of grass beneath his feet, track the minute adjustments his body was making with every stride, even sense the air currents around him and adjust his movement to take advantage of them.
But more than that, he could feel the quirk analyzing the track, calculating the optimal path, predicting how his foot would interact with each section of surface. It was like having a supercomputer directly interfaced with his nervous system.
He crossed the finish line in what felt like a blur of motion, his body automatically shifting into a controlled deceleration that brought him to a stop without wasted energy.
"4.02 seconds," Aizawa announced.
More impressed murmurs from his classmates. Even Iida, who Lucian knew was the class's resident speedster, looked genuinely surprised.
"Faster than me without using Recipro Burst," Iida said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Your technique suggests this isn't just enhanced speed—it's enhanced everything."
Lucian nodded, breathing hard but not as exhausted as he'd expected. "Ultra Instinct doesn't just make me faster. It makes me... optimal, I guess. Like my body knows exactly what to do without me having to think about it."
"Fascinating," Midoriya muttered, scribbling furiously. "It's like a constant state of perfect physical coordination and environmental analysis..."
"So you've got super healing and super fighting," Kaminari said with obvious envy. "Man, some people get all the luck with the genetic lottery."
"Every quirk has drawbacks," Todoroki said quietly, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm but carried an undertone of something that might have been understanding. "What are yours?"
It was a pointed question, and Lucian could feel the weight of attention on him again. Aizawa was watching with particular interest, probably wondering the same thing.
"Stamina, mostly," Lucian admitted. "Restoration Domain drains me pretty quickly, especially for big effects. And Ultra Instinct..." He paused, remembering his first disastrous attempt in his apartment. "It's hard to control. If I'm not careful, it can overwhelm me."
"Overwhelming instinctive responses," Aizawa noted, making another mark on his clipboard. "We'll need to work on that. Control is more important than power."
The tests continued. Grip strength enhanced by Ultra Instinct precision: 78.3 kg—respectable, but not exceptional. Standing long jump with a small momentum-restoring effect to eliminate drag: 7.8 meters—good, but again, not superhuman.
Lucian was being careful to show competence without being overwhelming. He wanted to prove he belonged here, but drawing too much attention could lead to uncomfortable questions about his background.
The repeated side steps test was where Ultra Instinct really shone. His body moved with mechanical precision, each step perfectly placed, each direction change optimized for minimal energy loss. His score of 67 repetitions put him in the top tier of the class.
"Your movement patterns are remarkably efficient," Iida observed during the break between tests. "Have you had formal training in athletics?"
"Some," Lucian said vaguely, which was technically true if you counted gym class. "Nothing too serious."
For the distance run, he relied primarily on Ultra Instinct's optimization rather than any dramatic quirk effects. His body found the perfect pace, the ideal breathing rhythm, the most efficient stride length. He finished in the middle of the pack—respectable but not record-breaking.
The sit-ups and seated toe-touch were purely physical tests, and without any obvious way to apply his quirks, Lucian performed at a level that suggested good general fitness but nothing exceptional.
By the time they'd finished all eight tests, Lucian was exhausted but cautiously optimistic. He hadn't embarrassed himself, and more importantly, he'd managed to demonstrate his quirks without revealing their true potential or raising too many red flags about his background.
"Alright," Aizawa said, looking at his clipboard with an expression that might have been satisfaction. "Cross, your overall performance puts you in the upper third of the class. Not bad for someone who presumably hasn't had U.A.'s training regimen."
Relief flooded through Lucian. Upper third was better than he'd dared hope for, especially given his careful restraint.
"However," Aizawa continued, his voice taking on that sharp edge that made every student in 1-A straighten their spines, "I noticed several things during your tests that concern me."
Lucian's relief evaporated, replaced by a cold knot of anxiety.
"Your quirks are powerful, potentially very powerful, but your control is inconsistent. Your stamina management needs significant work. Most importantly, you're clearly not used to using these abilities in practical situations."
The criticism stung because it was accurate. Lucian nodded, trying to look appropriately chastened.
"Furthermore," Aizawa's eyes narrowed, "your fighting stance during the speed test, the way you breathe when using your quirks, even how you hold yourself when concentrating—it all suggests someone who's had theoretical knowledge but very limited practical experience."
Several classmates were listening now, curious about where this was going. Lucian felt sweat that had nothing to do with physical exertion beading on his forehead.
"Which means," Aizawa concluded, "you'll be staying after school for supplemental training until you reach an acceptable level of competency. I won't have a student in my class who can't properly control their abilities, regardless of how impressive those abilities might be on paper."
Around him, several classmates winced in sympathy. Extra training with Aizawa was legendarily unpleasant.
"Understood, sensei," Lucian said, proud that his voice remained steady.
"Good. Everyone else, you're dismissed for the day. Cross, grab some water and meet me back here in ten minutes. We have work to do."
As his classmates began to file out, several stopped to offer encouragement or sympathy.
"Good luck," Uraraka said with a supportive smile. "Aizawa-sensei's training is really hard, but you'll get stronger."
"Your quirks are amazing," Midoriya added earnestly. "I'd love to talk more about them sometime, if that's okay. Maybe we could compare notes on multiple quirk interaction theory?"
"Sure," Lucian replied, genuinely touched by the offer. "I'd like that."
Even Kirishima clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't let the extra training get you down, man. We've all been there. Aizawa's tough, but he wouldn't bother if he didn't think you had potential."
Kaminari gave him a thumbs up. "Try not to die! We need someone else around here with weird quirk drawbacks."
Sero grinned. "At least your quirks are cool. Mine's just... tape."
"Tape can be really versatile," Lucian pointed out. "I bet you could do amazing things with the right creative applications."
Sero's smile widened. "Thanks, man. That's... actually pretty encouraging."
Even some of the quieter students offered nods of acknowledgment as they left. Koda gave him a shy wave, while Shoji's many arms formed a brief gesture of support.
Todoroki paused beside him for a moment. "Your quirks are unusual," he said quietly. "If you ever want to discuss managing multiple abilities... I understand some of the challenges involved."
There was something in his tone—a note of shared experience that made Lucian look at him more carefully. Of course. Todoroki's quirk was technically two separate abilities that he'd had to learn to balance.
"Thanks," Lucian said. "I might take you up on that."
Todoroki nodded once and walked away, leaving Lucian with the impression that he'd just been offered something valuable.
Only Bakugo passed without a word, his expression thunderous and his posture radiating barely contained fury. But even he didn't try to start another confrontation, perhaps deterred by Aizawa's earlier intervention.
Soon, it was just Lucian and Aizawa on the training ground, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the equipment.
"Alright, kid," the pro hero said, his tired eyes suddenly sharp and focused. "Time for some real talk."
Lucian's blood ran cold, but he tried to keep his expression neutral.
"Your quirks are impressive, but there's something off about you," Aizawa continued, circling him slowly like a predator evaluating prey. "Your stance, your reactions, the way you talk about your abilities—it's like you've studied them extensively but never actually lived with them."
Shit. He's figured it out.
"Your quirk registry says you've had these abilities since childhood, but you move like someone who just discovered them yesterday," Aizawa went on. "Your muscle memory is wrong for someone who's supposedly been using these powers for years."
Lucian's mouth went dry. This was it—the moment his carefully constructed identity would crumble under scrutiny.
"So here's what's going to happen," Aizawa said, stopping directly in front of him. "You're going to tell me the truth about your background, or you're going to train with me until you either pass out or develop the reflexes you should already have. Either way, I'm going to understand exactly what kind of student I'm dealing with."
The compass pulsed against his side, and Lucian realized this was his first real test as a student at U.A. Not the quirk assessment, but this—proving he could handle the pressure of scrutiny while maintaining his cover.
[Warning: deception detection imminent. Recommend prepared narrative with verifiable elements. Emotional authenticity crucial.]
Thanks for the tactical advice, Lucian thought grimly.
He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. The key was to tell a truth that wasn't the whole truth—something that would satisfy Aizawa's suspicions without revealing the full extent of his situation.
"You're right," he said finally. "I haven't been using my quirks properly."
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"My... my previous school had very strict policies about quirk usage," Lucian said, letting a note of frustration enter his voice. It wasn't entirely a lie—most schools in MHA did have restrictive quirk policies. "Students weren't allowed to use their abilities outside of designated classes, and even then it was heavily supervised and limited."
"Go on."
"I spent most of my time studying my quirks theoretically rather than practicing them," Lucian continued, building on the foundation of partial truth. "I read everything I could find about similar abilities, analyzed other heroes' techniques, developed theories about how they might work together... but I never had the chance to really test them."
This was actually somewhat accurate—he had spent years analyzing quirks and hero techniques, just from the perspective of an anime fan rather than a potential user.
"And when I did try to practice in secret," he added, letting some genuine emotion into his voice, "I usually ended up exhausting myself or losing control. So I got cautious. Overly cautious."
Aizawa studied him for a long moment, those dark eyes searching for any sign of deception.
"What kind of school has policies that restrictive?" he asked finally.
Lucian had prepared for this question. "A private academy focused on academic achievement rather than hero training. They viewed quirks as... distractions from proper education."
It was plausible. There were definitely schools in MHA's world that took that approach, particularly among the more traditional or elite institutions.
"And why transfer to U.A. now?"
"Because I realized I was wasting my potential," Lucian said with genuine conviction. "I have these abilities, and I should be using them to help people. But I can't do that if I don't know how to use them properly."
The truth of that statement resonated in his voice, and he saw something in Aizawa's expression shift slightly.
"Hmm." The pro hero was quiet for several heartbeats, considering. "That would explain the theoretical knowledge combined with poor practical application. It would also explain why your quirk registry documentation looks somewhat... irregular."
Lucian's heart skipped. "Irregular?"
"The paperwork is correct, but it reads like it was compiled from academic assessments rather than practical evaluations," Aizawa explained. "Like someone describing your abilities based on written tests rather than actual performance."
Thank you, R.O.B., for your attention to detail, Lucian thought with relief.
"So," Aizawa continued, "assuming I believe this explanation—and I'm not saying I do—what happens next?"
"I train," Lucian said simply. "I learn to use my quirks properly. I prove that I belong here."
"Training with me isn't going to be pleasant," Aizawa warned. "I don't coddle students, and I don't accept excuses. If you're really as inexperienced as you claim, this is going to be brutal."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Aizawa's quirk activated briefly, his hair floating and eyes glowing red for emphasis. "Because I've had students quit after a single session with me. I've had heroes-in-training break down crying because they couldn't handle the pressure."
The red glow faded, but the intensity in his gaze remained.
"I'm not afraid of hard work," Lucian said, meeting his stare directly. "And I'm not going to quit."
Aizawa studied him for another long moment, then nodded slowly.
"We'll see. Drop and give me fifty push-ups. Let's start with basic conditioning."
As Lucian lowered himself to the ground, he felt a strange mixture of relief and trepidation. He'd survived the interrogation, but now came the real challenge—proving he could live up to his claims.
[Status: cover story accepted. Physical training commencing. Recommend maximum effort to establish credibility.]
No kidding, Lucian thought, beginning his push-ups under Aizawa's watchful eye.
The first ten were easy. The next ten were manageable. By thirty, his arms were burning, and by forty, he was struggling to maintain form.
"Form," Aizawa said sharply. "I'd rather see twenty perfect push-ups than fifty sloppy ones."
Lucian adjusted his posture, focusing on controlled movements rather than speed. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed through, drawing on the same determination that had carried him through his old life's challenges.
Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven.
"Come on," Aizawa said, his voice neither encouraging nor discouraging—just expectant. "Three more."
Forty-eight. Forty-nine.
Lucian's arms gave out on the fiftieth push-up, and he collapsed to the ground, breathing hard.
"Adequate," Aizawa said, making a note on his clipboard. "Your basic fitness is decent, but you'll need significant improvement if you want to keep up with this class."
Lucian pushed himself back to his feet, legs slightly unsteady. "What's next?"
"Quirk control exercises. If you're really as inexperienced as you claim, we need to start with the absolute basics." Aizawa gestured toward a set of training equipment. "Show me your Restoration Domain. Small scale, controlled application."
Lucian nodded, feeling for that warm pool of energy in his chest. This time, he kept the output minimal—just enough to create a small golden glow around his hand.
"Hold it steady," Aizawa instructed. "Don't let the energy fluctuate."
It was harder than it sounded. The energy wanted to surge and spike, to flow in dramatic bursts rather than controlled streams. Lucian found himself fighting his own quirk, trying to maintain a consistent output level.
"Your control is terrible," Aizawa observed after watching him struggle for several minutes. "You're fighting the quirk instead of working with it. It's like trying to drive a car by stomping on the gas and brake at the same time."
"How do I fix it?"
"Practice. Lots of practice. And meditation—you need to understand your quirk's natural rhythm before you can control it."
They worked for another hour, focusing on basic control exercises and stamina building. By the end, Lucian was exhausted, covered in sweat, and slightly nauseous from quirk overuse.
"That's enough for today," Aizawa said finally. "Same time tomorrow. And Cross?"
"Yes, sensei?"
"Don't think this means I trust you completely. I'm going to be watching you closely, and if I find out you've been lying to me..." He let the threat hang in the air.
"Understood."
As Lucian gathered his things and prepared to leave, Aizawa spoke again.
"For what it's worth, your explanation makes sense. And your determination to improve is... adequate. We'll see if you can back it up with results."
Walking back toward the school building, Lucian felt a complex mixture of emotions. Relief at having his cover story accepted, exhaustion from the training, and a growing sense of the challenges that lay ahead.
[Assessment: initial integration successful. Social bonds forming. Cover identity stable but requires ongoing maintenance.]
Yeah, Lucian thought, looking back at the training ground where Aizawa was still making notes. This is just the beginning.
Tomorrow, he would face his classmates again, knowing that he was now officially the student who needed extra help. There would be more questions, more scrutiny, and more opportunities to either prove himself or slip up.
But for now, he'd survived his first day at U.A. High School.
And surprisingly, he was looking forward to the second.
—v—
The walk back to his apartment gave Lucian time to process everything that had happened. The streets of Musutafu were quieter now, the evening rush hour still an hour away, and he found himself actually noticing details he'd missed that morning—the way the late afternoon light caught in the windows of the surrounding buildings, the sounds of everyday life continuing around him, the casual presence of heroes and people with visible quirks going about their business.
I'm really here, he thought, the reality of it settling over him like a comfortable weight. This isn't a dream or a fantasy anymore. This is my life.
His phone buzzed—another gift from R.O.B.'s thorough preparation—and he saw a text message from an unknown number.
"Hey! It's Uraraka! Midoriya gave me your number from the class contact sheet. Hope that's okay! How did extra training go? 😊"
Lucian smiled, surprised by how much that simple message meant to him. He quickly typed back.
"Survived! Thanks for checking. Aizawa-sensei is... intense."
The response came back almost immediately.
"He really is! But he's also really good at helping people improve. Don't get discouraged! Want to study together sometime? I could use help with Modern Literature, and maybe you could use help with Hero Law?"
"That sounds great. I'd like that."
"Awesome! See you tomorrow! 😄"
As he put his phone away, Lucian realized something had shifted. The nervous anxiety of the morning had transformed into something else—anticipation, maybe, or determination. He was no longer just trying to survive his first day. He was beginning to think about tomorrow, and the day after that, and all the days that would follow.
Back in his apartment, he collapsed onto his futon with a groan, every muscle in his body protesting. The compass sat on his desk, its glow steady and patient.
[Status report: Day One complete. Initial objectives achieved. Social integration: successful. Cover story: accepted. Physical conditioning: requires significant improvement.]
"Tell me about it," Lucian muttered, staring at the ceiling. "I feel like I got hit by a truck. A very educational truck."
[Observation: user adaptation rate exceeds baseline projections. Emotional state: stable. Confidence levels: increasing.]
"Is that your way of saying I did okay?"
[Affirmative. Performance exceeded minimum acceptable parameters.]
Despite his exhaustion, Lucian found himself grinning. "High praise coming from you."
He lay there for a while, thinking about the day. Meeting his classmates—his friends, if he was being honest—had been surreal but wonderful. Uraraka's warmth, Midoriya's enthusiasm, even Bakugo's hostility felt real in a way that made everything more meaningful.
And Aizawa's training, brutal as it had been, had given him something to work toward. A goal that was both achievable and worthy.
I can do this, he realized. I can actually become a hero.
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, but mostly thrilling.
As the sun set outside his window, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Lucian Cross—former ordinary person, current U.A. student, future hero—closed his eyes and began planning for tomorrow.
After all, he had a lot of work to do.
Chapter 2 Finished
Word count: approximately 9,245 words
To me this is a great chapter. let me know and comment if there's some inconsistency on the story. oh and give some review about your thought on the story by far and give me spare stones if you have one