The monitoring bracelet sat on Fern's wrist like a shackle.
She'd worn it for three days now. Three days of constant data collection and this is carefully emitting false bioelectric signals every time she used magic, making it look like quirk activation.
It was exhausting mentally, maintaining two separate processes simultaneously while appearing relaxed, was draining in ways combat never had been.
In my old life, I just cast spells. Now I cast spells while pretending they're something else.
Class 1-A was in the middle of Foundational Hero Studies. All Might had them running disaster rescue scenarios; collapsing buildings, trapped civilians (robots), time limits.
"Young Hayashi! You're up next!"
Fern stepped into the simulation area. A three-story structure designed to collapse progressively. Five "civilian" robots trapped inside. Eight minutes to extract them all.
She activated the bracelet; a small pulse of electricity from her fingertips, making it register "quirk activation."
Then she used magic.
Her sensory spell spread through the building, mapping structural weaknesses, locating the robots, calculating optimal extraction routes. The whole process took two seconds.
But she waited five more, pretending to think.
Can't be too fast. Need to look like I'm planning.
She entered the building and moved systematically. First floor; two robots. She suppressed the weight of the debris pinning them, making it light enough to move manually. Another electrical pulse for the bracelet.
Second floor; one robot. The floor was unstable. She reinforced it with a barrier spell while simultaneously shocking her own nervous system slightly, enough for the bracelet to register "quirk strain."
This is ridiculous. I'm fighting myself more than the scenario.
Third floor; two robots, completely buried. She suppressed the molecular cohesion of the concrete around them, making it crumble. More electricity. The bracelet's readings would show "sustained quirk usage."
Six minutes, forty-three seconds. All civilians extracted.
"EXCELLENT TIME, YOUNG HAYASHI!" All Might boomed. "Though I noticed you seemed strained toward the end! Don't push your quirk beyond safe limits!"
Fern nodded, breathing slightly harder than necessary. "Understood, sensei."
He's buying it. The act is working.
She returned to the observation area where her classmates waited.
"Nice work!" Kirishima gave her a thumbs up. "Your quirk is super versatile!"
"It's just energy manipulation," Fern said.
"Yeah, but the way you use it! Making things lighter, breaking concrete… that's creative!"
Todoroki approached. "Your extraction route was efficient. Military-style logistics."
Careful.
"Just common sense," Fern replied. "Closest victims first, work your way up."
"Most people panic and go for the most visible targets first." Todoroki's heterochromatic eyes studied her. "You didn't."
"Panicking wastes time."
He nodded slowly and walked away.
He's observant. More than he lets on.
The training continued. Other students took their turns. Some succeeded, others struggled. Midoriya broke two fingers extracting one robot. Bakugo blasted through walls with zero regard for structural integrity but somehow saved everyone anyway.
When class ended, Aizawa appeared at the door.
"Hayashi. Principal's office. Now."
The classroom went quiet.
"Am I in trouble?" Fern asked, keeping her voice level.
"Just come with me."
She followed him through UA's corridors. Other students watched them pass, whispering.
This isn't good. Direct summons means they found something.
They reached the principal's office. Nezu sat behind his desk, teacup in paw, expression pleasantly neutral.
"Ah, Hayashi-san. Please, sit."
Fern sat. Aizawa stood by the door, arms crossed.
"You're not in trouble," Nezu said immediately. "We simply want to discuss your quirk development."
"My quirk is developing normally."
"Is it?" Nezu pulled up a holographic display. "These are your bracelet readings from the past three days."
Data scrolled past; heart rate, bioelectric activity, and quirk energy output.
"Notice anything unusual?" Nezu asked.
Fern examined the data. It looked normal to her; the electrical signals she'd been faking appeared consistently during her "quirk usage."
"It looks standard," she said.
"Exactly." Nezu zoomed in on specific readings. "Too standard. Your bioelectric patterns during quirk activation are identical every time. Down to the millisecond. Same amplitude, same frequency, same duration."
Damn it.
"Human biology isn't that consistent," Aizawa added. "Even trained quirk users show variation. Fatigue, stress, adrenaline; all of it affects the readings. Yours don't change at all."
Fern's mind raced. I made the signals too perfect. A real quirk would have organic variation.
"Maybe my quirk is just consistent," she tried.
"No quirk is that consistent," Nezu said gently. "Which raises interesting questions. Either the bracelet is malfunctioning—which seems unlikely given it works perfectly on other students—or..."
He trailed off, waiting.
They know something's wrong. But they don't know what. This is a fishing expedition.
"Or?" Fern prompted.
"Or your quirk functions differently than reported," Nezu finished. "Perhaps it's not a standard emitter type. Perhaps it's more... esoteric."
"What does that mean?"
Nezu set down his teacup. "Some quirks don't produce measurable bioelectric signatures. Purely mental quirks, for example. Or quirks that operate on non-biological principles."
He's giving me an out. A way to explain the discrepancy without admitting the truth.
"You think my quirk is mental?" Fern asked.
"I think your quirk might have mental components we didn't originally categorize," Nezu said. "Your suppression abilities could be psychokinetic rather than energy-based. That would explain the lack of physical strain and the consistent readings."
Aizawa was watching her carefully. "It would also explain how you detected Hagakure during combat training. Psychokinetic quirks often include enhanced spatial awareness."
They're building a new narrative. One that fits their observations while keeping me inside their framework.
Should I accept it? Or deny it?
Accepting meant they'd reclassify her quirk, subject her to different testing. But it also provided cover for abilities that didn't fit the "energy manipulation" label.
Denying it meant maintaining the current story, but left questions unresolved.
Frieren-sama always said: When people want to believe something, let them. It's easier than fighting their assumptions.
"I never thought about it that way," Fern said slowly. "But... maybe? Sometimes when I suppress things, it feels like I'm just... willing them to stop. Not sending energy or anything. Just deciding they should be different."
"Fascinating!" Nezu's eyes lit up. "That's consistent with high-level psychokinetic abilities! The brain essentially imposes its will on reality through quantum manipulation—"
He continued explaining, diving into theory that Fern barely followed.
But she understood the important part: they were rewriting her file. Changing her classification to something that explained the anomalies.
"—so we'll need to run different tests," Nezu concluded. "Psychokinetic quirks respond differently to standard measurements. We'll schedule you with a specialist. Does that sound acceptable?"
"Yes, sir."
"Wonderful!" Nezu smiled. "You're dismissed. And Hayashi? Don't worry. Having an unusual quirk isn't a problem. It just means we need to understand it better to help you develop it properly."
Fern stood and bowed. "Thank you, Principal."
She left the office, Aizawa following.
In the hallway, he spoke quietly. "You know what I think?"
"What, sensei?"
"I think you knew your quirk was psychokinetic all along. But you let yourself be classified as an emitter because it was simpler."
Close. Uncomfortably close.
"Why would I do that?" Fern asked.
"Because psychokinetic quirks draw attention. They're rare, powerful, and difficult to understand. Easier to be a standard emitter and blend in." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "But you can't blend in forever, Hayashi. Not at UA. This school is designed to push students to their limits. Whatever you're hiding—and you are hiding something—it'll come out eventually."
Fern met his tired gaze without flinching. "I'm not hiding anything dangerous."
"That's what you said before. I'm starting to wonder if you even know what 'dangerous' means." He walked away, then paused. "One more thing. There's a field trip scheduled for tomorrow. The USJ, Unforeseen Simulation Joint. All Might and I will be supervising. Wear your hero costume."
"Understood."
He left.
Fern stood alone in the empty hallway.
They changed my classification to psychokinetic. That buys me some room but also means more scrutiny. Different tests. Specialists who understand mental quirks.
I'll need to adjust my strategy again.
Her phone buzzed. Message from an unknown number:
"This is Todoroki. Want to train together sometime? Your tactical thinking is useful."
Fern stared at the message.
He wants to train. With me. Why?
She typed back: "Maybe. I'll let you know."
His response came immediately: "Okay."
At least he was direct.
Fern pocketed her phone and headed back to the dorms. She had research to do about psychokinetic quirks, about how they presented, about what the specialists would look for.
Another mask to wear.
How many masks can one person carry before they forget which one is real?
She didn't have an answer.
***
That night, Fern couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind churning through possibilities.
Tomorrow was the USJ trip. A training facility designed for disaster rescue scenarios. It should be routine.
But something felt wrong.
Not magic, she'd learned not to trust feelings that came from nowhere.
All Might's schedule is public. Everyone knows when he's teaching. The USJ is off-campus, isolated. If someone wanted to attack UA students...
She sat up.
I'm being paranoid. This is a hero school. Security is tight. Nothing's going to happen.
But the feeling persisted.
Fern got out of bed and opened her laptop. She pulled up news articles from the past few months, searching for patterns.
Villain activity had increased lately. Small incidents, mostly. But more frequent. Like something was building.
She found an article from two weeks ago: "League of Villains Claims Responsibility for Downtown Attack."
League of Villains. A new group. Organized. Aggressive.
If they wanted to make a statement, attacking hero students would do it.
But how would they know about the USJ trip? That information isn't public.
Unless someone told them. Unless there was a leak.
I'm overthinking this. Security exists for a reason. Professionals are handling it.
She closed the laptop and went back to bed.
But sleep didn't come easily.
And when it did, her dreams were filled with fire and blood and the screams of people she couldn't save.
Just like the war.
Just like always.
***
The next morning, Class 1-A boarded a bus to the USJ.
Fern sat near the back, observing. Most students were excited; chattering about what scenarios they'd face, what training they'd do.
Midoriya was muttering analysis into his notebook. Bakugo was glaring out the window. Todoroki sat alone, silent.
The bus ride took twenty minutes. The USJ facility was impressive; a massive dome structure surrounded by empty land. Isolated. Far from civilian areas.
Perfect for training. Also perfect for an ambush.
Fern mentally cataloged her classmates' combat capabilities. Midoriya; powerful but self-destructive. Bakugo; aggressive, strong, no teamwork. Todoroki; overwhelming power, emotional blocks. Iida; speed and leadership. Uraraka; support type. Tsu; versatile.
If something happens, these are the assets I have.
They exited the bus and entered the facility.
Inside was enormous. Different zones simulating different disasters. A flood zone, a landslide zone, a conflagration zone. All connected by a central plaza.
A hero in a space suit greeted them. "Hello! I'm Thirteen! Welcome to the USJ!"
The students gathered as Thirteen explained the facility's purpose.
Fern wasn't listening. She was scanning exits, noting structural weaknesses, calculating defensive positions.
Just in case.
"Where's All Might?" Aizawa asked Thirteen quietly.
But not quietly enough. Fern's enhanced hearing caught it.
"He used up his time limit this morning doing hero work," Thirteen replied. "He's resting."
All Might isn't here. The Number One Hero, who should be supervising, isn't here.
The wrong feeling intensified.
Then the lights flickered.
And in the central plaza, a dark portal opened.
Figures emerged, and dozens of them. Villains. Armed, dangerous, malicious intent radiating like heat.
And at their center, a man covered in hands, scratching his neck compulsively.
"Where is he?" the man asked, voice childish and wrong. "Where's All Might? We came to kill him."
The USJ had just become a battlefield.
And Fern's careful plans had just become worthless.