Chapter 1: The Panda in the Mirror
The first thing to pierce the cozy blanket of my dreams wasn't the morning sun, but the sound of my mom's voice, sharp and sweet like candied ginger.
"Po! If you're not down here in five minutes, your Miso soup is going to file a formal complaint for abandonment!"
A groan rumbled deep in my chest, the kind that vibrated through my mattress. My room was a sanctuary of shadows and the lingering, comfortable scent of me. Posters of heroes—All Might in his prime, a rare silver-age Crimson Riot, even the high-flying Hawks—watched over me from the walls. Their dynamic poses and confident smiles were the first thing I saw every morning and the last thing I saw every night. They were perfect.
I rolled out of bed, a maneuver that was less of a graceful arc and more of a controlled avalanche, and my feet hit the floor with a soft thump. The old wooden planks of our house were used to it. I padded over to the full-length mirror leaning against the wall, the one my dad had bought me, saying, "A future hero needs to see the whole picture."
The panda in the mirror stared back.
And for a moment, just a beat of silence before the day truly began, I didn't see me, Po. I just saw... the panda. The round face, the black fur around my eyes that looked like permanent smudges of ink, the ears that twitched at the slightest sound from the kitchen downstairs. A body built for softness, for comfort, for… well, for napping and eating bamboo, probably. Not for soaring through the sky. Not for standing defiant in the face of danger. My Quirk, "Panda Body," was literally just that. I was durable. I was bouncy. I was, for all intents and purposes, a giant, cuddly stress ball. Not exactly the stuff of legends. A sigh, heavy and thick, escaped my lips.
Then, I met my own eyes in the reflection. And I did what I always do.
I smiled.
It started small, just a twitch at the corner of my mouth. Then it grew, stretching wide, pushing my cheeks up until my eyes crinkled. It was a big, goofy, genuine smile. Because, so what? So what if I was round? So what if my Quirk wasn't flashy? This was me. This body let me enjoy Dad's legendary noodle soup three bowls at a time. This face made my mom laugh. It was my face. My smile. And I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't let anyone, not even the panda in the mirror, take that away from me.
"Coming, Mom!" I called out, my voice now bright and full of energy.
Downstairs was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Mom, a wonderfully energetic woman with a simple but amazing Quirk that allowed her to keep multiple pots and pans perfectly warm without ever burning anything, was plating my breakfast. Dad was already at the table, his large panda head bowed over the morning paper. He wasn't a full panda like me; his Quirk had only affected his head and his gentle, lumbering disposition. He looked up as I entered, and his eyes, kind and knowing, crinkled in his own version of a smile. He didn't need to say anything. A simple nod from him felt like a pep talk from a king.
I devoured my soup, the savory warmth chasing away the last of the morning's shadows. The news was on the small television in the corner, showing some pro-hero taking down a minor villain whose Quirk seemed to be turning traffic lights into confetti. It was a Tuesday.
The walk to school was my favorite part of the day. Our little neighborhood was alive with the quiet hum of a world filled with wonders. A woman watered her plants with jets of water that sprouted from her fingertips. The mailman zipped by on a hoverboard, leaving a shimmering trail of light behind him. And high above, a flash of crimson and gold zipped between the skyscrapers—Ryukyu, maybe, or some other high-flying hero on patrol. I watched until she was just a speck, my heart thumping a little faster in my chest. Holographic billboards flickered, showing Endeavor's stoic, fiery face advertising some energy drink. This world… it was amazing. And I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to be up there, a protector, a symbol. Someone who made people feel safe just by showing up with a smile.
Then I saw the gates to Aldera Junior High. And the feeling faded, replaced by a familiar, dull weight in my stomach that even Miso soup couldn't fix.
The hallways were a different kind of jungle. Here, Quirks weren't for helping or working; they were for showing off. For establishing who was at the top and who was at the bottom. And a big, soft panda who couldn't shoot lasers or turn his skin to steel? I was firmly at the bottom.
"Watch it, fluffball."
Kaito slid past, his shoulder ramming into mine. It was like a pebble hitting a mountain; I didn't budge an inch. But the impact wasn't meant to be physical. It was a message, delivered with a smirk. You're in the way. You don't belong. His friends snickered as they passed. I just kept my smile plastered on my face, feeling it strain at the edges, and continued walking.
The whispers followed me like my own shadow. "Heard he wants to apply to U.A." one said, followed by a choked laugh. "With what Quirk? 'Supreme Cuddliness'?"
I kept walking. Kept smiling. I focused on the promise I made myself this morning. Their words were just noise. They couldn't touch me.
The day passed in a blur of feigned cheerfulness. I answered questions in class, I laughed at jokes, I shared my lunch with a kid who forgot his. But by the time the final bell rang, my smile felt like a heavy mask. All I wanted was to escape to Mr. Ping's Noodle Shop, to lose myself in the steam and savory broth of the best noodles in the city. It was my reward for surviving another day.
I was heading for the school gates, the glorious image of a bowl of spicy pork noodles dancing in my head, when a shadow fell over me.
"Hey, Po."
It was Kaito. He and his two lackeys had blocked the path. His smile was all sharp edges, none of the warmth of my dad's.
"In a hurry to get to the feeding trough?" he sneered.
I tried to keep my voice light. "Just grabbing some dinner, Kaito. You know how it is, a growing panda needs his fuel." I gave him my best, most disarming smile.
It didn't work.
"You know," he said, stepping closer, his friends fanning out to my sides. "We were just talking. About you. And your big, heroic dreams." He gestured towards a narrow service alley behind the school gym. "We figure a future hero needs some extra training. And we're happy to help you practice."
My smile finally faltered. The weight in my stomach was back, heavier than ever. The smell of noodles seemed very, very far away now.