*The station is PACKED. Students everywhere. Every age. Every shape. Every quirk type imaginable. Some glow like lanterns. Some obscure themselves in shadows. Some levitate their suitcases. Some melt into puddles and reform.* *Everyone is heading toward the same place: U.A. High School.* *You step into the loud, crowded train and grip the overhead bar. A student next to you sparks lightning between his fingers. Another is literally sweating lava (thankfully caught in special containers). Someone with feathered wings takes up too much space, apologizing nonstop.* *The train begins moving — slowly at first, then faster. Your heart moves even faster.* *Two girls near you whisper loudly:* **“I heard someone from our year is transferring into 1-A.”** **“No way. That class is insane."** **“Whoever it is better be strong. Like, really strong.”** *You turn away so they don’t see your reaction. Because they’re talking about you. Your transfer was sudden. Rare. Mysterious.* *You inhale slowly, watching the scenery blur past. You don’t need to be the strongest.You just need to be enough.* *The train hisses open. A wave of students spills out. The walk to U.A. is long and crowded, but the closer you get… The quieter it feels inside your chest. Because you see it. Rising in the distance like a gleaming titan.* *Massive towers.Reflective windows. Security walls taller than buildings. Training arenas that look like military complexes. Observation domes. Emergency evacuation towers. Glass bridges.* *And at the very front…The famous golden gates.* *You freeze. Everyone freezes. It’s like seeing a holy monument. The gates slide open with a sound like thunder rolling.* *Students gasp. Some cheer. Some cry. Some look ready to faint.* *You don’t move at first. You stare. Because this place. Doesn’t just look like a school.It looks like the origin point of greatness. A place where legends are shaped.* *And then you hear a voice beside you:* **“Move it. You’ll get crushed if you stand in the way.”** *You jump— And see a very tall, very tired man with scruffy hair and dead eyes. A scarf hangs limply around his neck. He stares at you with a tired sharpness.* **AIZAWA.** *He recognizes you instantly.* **“The transfer. Don’t fall behind.”** *He walks ahead, dragging two misbehaving students in his scarf like wild cats. You swallow. Eraserhead himself knows who you are. This is real. This is happening. You step through the gates.* *INSIDE U.A. — “A School of Heroes and Pressure”* *The inside is more overwhelming than outside.* *Digital screens everywhere show: School announcements Hero ranking updates Weather alerts Training schedules Footage of pro heroes in action A live feed of the rescue training building* *Upperclassmen wearing advanced hero suits walk past you like seasoned warriors returning from battle. Their suits are scratched, burned, dented. Someone with reptile features sharpens a claw. Another with a flame mantle adjusts glowing armor.* *These students are not “kids.” They’re almost heroes already. You feel small. But you also feel challenged. And excited. And ready.* *Your stomach tightens as you approach the stairs, leading to the classrooms—* *First floor.* *Second floor.* *Third.* *Your breath quickens.* *Because you know what’s on the fourth floor: The most famous class in U.A.* *The class known for: Explosions. Chaos. Insanity. Talent. Potential. Future top heroes. Your class.* **THE DOOR — “Class 1-A”** *You see the huge reinforced door.* *Larger than normal. Thicker. Built to withstand students like Bakugo, Todoroki, or Tokoyami going all-out. Your hand shakes slightly as you reach for the handle. You hear voices inside.* *Arguing. Laughing. Shouting.Someone is complaining loudly (probably Bakugo). You inhale…And slide the door open.* **ENTERING CLASS 1-A — LONGEST INTRO YET** *The instant you open the door, time seems to slow. Every head turns. Dozens of eyes lock onto you.* *Desks scrape. Someone drops a pencil. Someone gasps. Someone whispers,* **“That must be the transfer.”** *Then…Voices explode all at once.* **Katsuki Bakugo** *Feet on desk. Arms behind his head. Smirk sharp enough to cut glass.Small explosions pop from his palms purely because he’s annoyed that oxygen exists.* *He looks you up and down.* **“Tch. What extra crap is this? You lost, transfer-trash?”** *He scoffs, turning away like you’re a boring TV show.* **Izuku Midoriya** *Immediately panics.* **“H-Hi—!! You must be the new student—I’m—uh—Midoriya—sorry—are you—you’re—wow—you’re really—uh—hi!!”** *He fumbles his notebook, drops it, grabs it, drops it again. A mess of curls, freckles, and enthusiasm.* *He’s already writing your name under a new chapter in his Quirk Analysis notes.* **Shoto Todoroki** *Calm. Still. Half cold, half warm. His mismatched eyes analyze you without judgment — but with deep curiosity. He nods once. Silent. Respectful. MRevealing nothing.* **Eijiro Kirishima** *Practically glows with excitement.* **“BROOO!! New student alert!! You look tough! Super manly to join us mid-year! C’mon, give us a smile!”** *He gives you a thumbs-up as bright as a rising sun.* **Tenya Iida** *Zooms toward you. Literally. Engines in his calves screech. He skids to a stop, salutes dramatically, and nearly crashes into you.* **“WELCOME, NEW CLASSMATE!! I AM TENYA IIDA! I WILL ENSURE YOUR TRANSITION IS—”* *Bakugo throws a book at him.* **“SHUT UP, ENGINE FREAK!”** *Iida’s glasses shine with righteous fury.* *The room vibrates with energy — curiosity, competitiveness, excitement. You step fully inside. And then— The temperature drops. An eerie silence falls. Because right behind you… Is Aizawa, hair floating, eyes half-red with exhaustion.* **“Everyone. Outside. We’re testing combat ability.”** *The class collectively groans. He glares.* **“Now.”** *Everyone scrambles out. You watch them go — a mixture of chaos and brilliance. You tighten your fists. Your Quirk tingles. Your heart pounds. Your journey begins.*

} right? I haven't had a chance to meet you since you started here. I'm Sekijiro Kan, I teach the hero class 1-B and biology. How have you been adjusting?"

~*TITLE: The Whispering Lodge — Bus POV YOU: Anya Forger SETTING: Eden Academy school trip bus Narrator: The Eden Academy bus rumbles down a long forest road. The windows shake, the sky is grey, and the trees outside look darker than normal. Anya Forger (you): Waku waku… but also scared… Becky Blackbell: “Anya, look! We’re almost at the lodge. It looks… spooky but fancy.” Damian Desmond: “Tch… it’s just a school trip. Nothing to be scared of.” Damian Desmond (thinking): “Why does this forest feel cursed…” Ewen Egeberg: “Bro… did you see that shadow outside the window?” Emile Elman: “STOP. SAYING. THAT.” Marcel Swan (the bully): “Hmph. Only little kids get scared on a bus ride.” Marcel Swan (thinking): “I want to go home right now…” Narrator: The bus suddenly hits a bump. Everyone jumps. Becky Blackbell: “Eek! What was that?!” Damian Desmond: “Probably just a rock. Calm down.” Damian Desmond (thinking): “That was NOT a rock.” Ewen Egeberg: “Guys… the driver hasn’t said a word this whole time.” Emile Elman: “Maybe he’s cursed too!” Marcel Swan: “Stop being dramatic!” Marcel Swan (thinking): “What if he IS cursed…” Narrator: At the front of the bus, Mr. Grimsley stands up. His full name is **Mr. Aldric Grimsley**, the strictest teacher at Eden Academy. Mr. Aldric Grimsley: “Students… we are approaching the lodge. Misbehavior will not be tolerated.” Narrator: His heavy backpack slides off the seat with a loud *CLUNK*. Anya Forger (you): *mind‑reading* Mr. Aldric Grimsley (thinking): “I must find the source before nightfall…” Anya Forger: Heh?! What source?! Becky Blackbell: “Anya, what did you hear?” Damian Desmond: “Forger, stop making weird faces.” Ewen Egeberg: “Bro, her face means something bad is happening.” Emile Elman: “WE’RE GONNA DIE ON THIS BUS—” Marcel Swan: “SHUT UP! YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE!” Marcel Swan (thinking): “We ARE going to die on this bus…” Narrator: The bus turns sharply. The trees outside seem to lean closer, like they’re watching. Becky Blackbell: “Anya… I don’t like this.” Damian Desmond: “Everyone stay calm. We’re almost there.” Damian Desmond (thinking): “Please let us be almost there…” Narrator: The bus slows down. The engine growls. Ahead, through the fog, the dark shape of the lodge appears. Anya Forger: Waku waku… scary adventure starting…*~

*I don’t remember when my name stopped mattering.* *On the battlefield, I’m just Dabi—blue fire, stitched skin, a villain burned down to the bones. That’s what she sees when we clash in the street, heat against light, destruction against justice. A Pro Hero in training now. Strong. Focused. Eyes sharp with conviction.* *But those eyes used to look at me differently.* *When she blocks my flames with her quirk, I laugh. It slips out rough and broken, because she doesn’t recognize me. Not my stance, not my voice, not the way I tilt my head before I attack. Not the boy who used to sit beside her on the cracked concrete steps behind the old neighborhood, counting clouds and promising stupid things like *we’ll be heroes together*.* *She calls my name—*Dabi!*—like it’s all I’ve ever been.* *I fight her harder than I should. Flames roar brighter, hotter, licking the air with intent to kill, because if I don’t drown the past in fire, it might crawl out of me and ruin everything. She lands a hit, clean and precise, and for a split second our eyes lock.* *There it is.* *That flicker of familiarity.* *Her brow furrows, confusion cutting through her resolve, and my chest tightens painfully. Say it, I almost think. Say my real name. Remember me.* *But she doesn’t.* *She never does.* *I retreat when the timing’s right, smoke and ash swallowing my escape. The League doesn’t question it. They never do. I’m good at vanishing. I’m good at pretending I don’t care. Still, long after the fire fades from my hands, her face stays burned into my mind—determined, righteous, and standing exactly where I fell.* *Later, word reaches me easily. Heroes are predictable like that. She goes home alone after patrol, bruised and exhausted, thinking she’s safe. Thinking villains don’t know where she lives.* *I stare at the cracked screen showing her apartment feed, flames flickering lazily from my fingertips. I tell myself it’s strategy. Psychological warfare. A message.* *That’s the lie.* *The truth is uglier. I want to see her without the uniform. Without the armor and expectations. I want to know if she still hums when she’s tired, if she still leaves lights on because she hates the dark. I want to know if any part of her remembers the boy who swore he’d protect her.* *The League needs a distraction tonight. A test. So I suggest a Nomu.* *They agree far too quickly.* *When the creature is released, lumbering and wrong, I don’t watch the city feed anymore. I picture her instead—shoes kicked off, hero jacket discarded, trying to relax for once. Maybe she’s thinking about the fight. About me. About why my movements felt familiar.* *The explosion will shake her windows first.* *I smile, slow and sharp.* *Not because I want her dead.* *But because maybe, when the monster crashes through her door and she fights for her life, something inside her will finally snap into place.* *And she’ll remember.* *Just as the flames always remember how to burn.*

*(Hood encounters you and sniffs at you)* Hmmh.. Huuumannn.. *(Hood analyzes you, his senses leaning towards violence, but his body strains for peace)* Not.. Thrreeeaaatt..

} a pleading, puppy-dog look.* "Be a lifesaver and help me rub these cramps out? Please? I won't survive the walk home otherwise."

*As the bell rings. Vlad King, the pro hero teaching Class 1B enters* **Vlad King:** Settle down. *His eyes sweep across the class before stopping at the door.* We have a new student joining Class 1-B today. Pay attention. *You step forward, standing at the front as curious gazes lock onto you.* **Neito Monoma:** Lets out an exaggerated laugh, resting his chin in his hands. Oh? Another transfer? Probably a weakling just like Class 1A, I shouldn't expect much from them, or you. *Before he can continue, a sharp THWACK echoes as Kendo’s enlarged hand connects with the back of his head, sending him face-first onto his desk.* **Itsuka Kendo:** Ignore him. He does that to everyone. She turns to you, offering a reassuring smile. I’m Kendo, vice-rep of Class 1-B. Welcome. **Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu:** *Grinning widely, he slams his steel fists together with a loud clang.* YEAH! You'd better be tough! This class doesn’t go easy on anyone! *Tetsutetsu says, flexing his quirk. Laughter and murmurs ripple through the room, curious, competitive, but not unkind.* **Vlad King:** That’s enough. *He crosses his arms.* You’re here to train as a hero, not to posture. Class 1-B works as a unit. Remember that.

**You two were sent on a mission together, despite your oddities. Now, he didn't hate you, but would consider you acquaintances. Friends on a good day. Despite this, however, after an unexpected turn of events, Aizawa wanted nothing more than to be able to protect you. Unfortunately, that seemed rather impossible.** **You two were both taken in by villains, each strapped tightly to a chair by a thick rope that held your arms, legs, and torso down to the chair. Your chairs faced one another, and a villain stood at your side, casting a heavy glare to Aizawa. Finally, he spoke up, voice imposing.** ???: "*You'll tell us everything you know, Eraser. Otherwise, I'll shoot a bullet right through your sidekick's pretty little head.*" **And suddenly, the cold, thick barrel of a pistol was pressing against your forehead. What a predicament...**

....

} and their well-being.* *Even as he stepped back, trying to act like nothing happened, he couldn’t stop glancing at you. His chest was tight, his hands itched to reach out again, and every instinct he had screamed that he’d protect you no matter what. He’d never admit it aloud—he was Bakugo, not some hero cliche—but inside, you mattered more than anyone else in the world. He hated being soft, hated how his chest tightened seeing you like this, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not for you.*