So, today is my first day at U.A. A month and some have passed since I woke up in this world. I've lost a few pounds, gained some muscle, and—maybe it's just me imagining things—but I swear I've gotten taller.
Am I nervous? Yeah, but not really. It's not like I was walking into Class 1-A, where the story's main plot would unfold. I was in Class 1-B—just unknown territory. The anime barely covered them, just giving glimpses here and there. But from what I do remember, a few of them had some real potential. I wonder how this is going to play out.
At breakfast, my sister was scheming.
"Dad, after school, can I go to my friend's house?" she asked, stuffing her face like it was her last meal.
It's the first day of school, and she's already making plans...
"Sure," Dad replied nonchalantly between sips of coffee. She knew his morning weakness—he was too tired to care.
Meanwhile, Mom was more focused on me. "U.A. High School, Shoda… You must be nervous." She smiled warmly, clearly proud.
"Nah," I shrugged. "I'm more worried about what classes we'll use for training and stuff."
My sister groaned, rolling her eyes. "Are we all just gonna ignore this? Ever since he got that damn bow, it's like all he cares about is training!"
"And? Imma be a fucking hero. Show some respect." I puffed up my chest, giving her the most smug look I could manage.
She stared at me blankly before breaking into a wicked grin.
"Holy shit, society is screwed if you're a hero."
Damn. She got me. I had no comeback, so I admitted defeat and finished breakfast.
The car ride to school was quiet, just the usual morning routine. Dad, exhausted as always. My sister, glued to her phone like her life depended on it. Kids these days. That damn phone.
Then, we pulled up to U.A.
I stepped out of the car, my feet hitting the pavement, and took a deep breath.
"Good luck, champ," Dad called out through the window. "Try not to get too many girls." He grinned before driving off, leaving me standing there.
And that's when I really took it in.
The building in front of me, the one I had only ever seen through a screen—was real. Towering, pristine, practically something out of a fantasy novel. The sakura trees were in bloom, their petals drifting through the air like something straight out of an anime. Students walked past me, laughing, talking, rushing to find their classes.
And I just stood there.
Taking it all in.
For the first time since coming into this world, I have seen it's marble. It's beautiful. Honestly, it was peaceful.
Walking toward my class, I spotted a few familiar faces among the sea of students. Bakugo, Momo, the guy with a tail—whatever his name was. Seeing them in person was surreal. I had only ever seen them drawn, sketched onto pages or flashing across a screen fighting their battles. Now, they were real, living, breathing people.
It was strange, this mix of familiarity and novelty.
That didn't matter, though; what mattered was what was in front of me. My eyes landed on the massive door labeled 1-B.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. Alright, this is it.
"You nervous too?"
The voice was lighthearted, teasing but not mocking. I turned to see an orange-haired girl around my height—maybe a bit shorter—approaching me. She had a warm energy about her, and okay, yeah, she was cute.
"A little," I admitted, eyeing the comically oversized door. "This giant fucking door doesn't help." I sighed in dramatic defeat.
She giggled, a small, airy laugh that had no right sounding that nice. "Yeah, maybe they made it like that to scare us off." She tapped a finger on her chin, striking a thinking pose.
"Perchance," I said, smirking. "Or maybe it's a safety precaution so I don't rip it in half with my super strength."
That earned me a more genuine laugh, the kind that made her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "You're really funny," she said between chuckles. "I'm Itsuka Kendo."
"Nirengeki Shoda."
She glanced at the door. "We should probably head in before we create traffic."
"Right, right. Ladies first." I stepped aside, gesturing toward the entrance. Is this Rizz?
She smiled at the gesture before stepping forward. And, well—what happened next was not entirely my fault.
Listen, I don't consider myself a lustful guy or anything, but I can appreciate beauty. Be it a charming face, graceful posture, or… other assets. And as Kendo walked ahead of me into the classroom, let's just say… the view was fantastic.
…Yeah. Another reason to become a hero had just been added to the list.
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The seating arrangement for the class had already been settled. I ended up near the front—second desk from the first row, all the way to the left. And, of course, sitting directly in front of me was none other than Itsuka Kendo.
Please, don't think of me like that.
To my right sat a blonde guy with sharp eyes. I knew his quirk let him copy others, but his name? Nonoma? Monoma? Yeah, I'm going to figure it out another day. Behind me sat Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu—an interesting name, if not a redundant one. I couldn't help but wonder what his parents were thinking when they wrote it on his birth certificate.
The classroom was quiet, everyone waiting for our teacher to arrive. And then, cutting through that silence like a wrecking ball—
"I WONDER WHO OUR TEACHER WILL BE!"
Tetsutetsu's thunderous voice practically rattled the walls. Bro. Did he even realize how loud he was? He couldn't be serious.
"You might've just scared him off," I muttered, earning a few chuckles from nearby classmates.
"I just hope he's a good teacher," Monoma—yes! That's his name. I finally remembered—chimed in. For a moment, I thought he was being normal. Then, of course, he finished his sentence.
"—so that we can destroy Class 1-A."
Yeah, never mind. This class is doomed.
Right on cue, the massive door creaked open. And there he was in all his glory, our homeroom teacher.
I had done my research. The guy wasn't just decent, he was criminally underrated.
Top 30 in combat power.
Top 20 in rescue missions.
Top 10 in teamwork and mentorship.
Top 100 in popularity… okay, not the flashiest hero, but whatever.
In short, this man was a beast, and half the world didn't even realize it. He was kind of like a very good athlete on a team surrounded by superstars.
Vlad King entered the room with the quiet confidence of a man who knew he was strong. He didn't need theatrics or loud proclamations—his presence alone did the talking. Broad shoulders, solid build, and an aura of absolute authority. Was he aura farming right now?
He stepped up to the teacher's podium, scanning the room. His sharp eyes flicked from student to student, assessing, measuring.
Yeah, this guy's the real deal.
"Pleasure to meet you all. My name is Vlad King, and I will be your homeroom teacher for this year." His voice was deep, calm, and filled with unshakable certainty.
A brief pause. Then—
"It seems you're more organized than my last class." He nodded slightly before turning toward the door. "Well then, let's go. The entrance ceremony is about to begin."
And just like that, he walked out.
No long speeches. No unnecessary formalities. Just in, introduction, out.
Yeah… I fuck with this guy.
The class rose almost in sync, everyone trailing after Vlad like obedient soldiers. As we started moving through the hallways, Kendo nudged me, pointing toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hallway.
Through them, the vast training fields came into view—more specifically, Class 1-A's training field.
A group of students stood on the dirt, some stretching, others bracing themselves for what was clearly a physical test. And standing in front of them?
A scruffy-looking man with dark, baggy clothes and the energy of someone who had just rolled out of bed.
Damn. Eraserhead looks even skinnier in real life. Maybe it's the baggy suit.
"Looks like their teacher isn't as nice as ours," I commented, watching him stare down his students with those tired but calculating eyes.
Kendo hummed in agreement. "What do you think they're doing?"
The look in her eyes told me she probably already knew—she just wanted to hear my take on it.
"I—"
"Showing off!"
Before I could finish, Monoma practically materialized next to me, slapping a hand onto my shoulder.
"I can't wait for us to prove to them we're better!" His voice dripped with determination and possibly some long-standing resentment.
Jesus, this guy was born with beef against Class 1-A. Did it really eat at him away that much that he wasn't placed there?
I sighed. "Either way, it doesn't matter. They'll do their thing, and we'll do ours."
Kendo glanced at me, then smiled. "Very thoughtful answer."
"They don't look like much," a voice muttered beside me as Kendo made her comment. Turning my head, I saw a dark-skinned guy walking up, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
No, like seriously. He was black. Pitch black.
I blinked. "Really? And what exactly does 'looking like much' even look like?"
He side-eyed me, his expression unreadable. "Not like that guy over there."
I followed his gaze and—ah.
Midoriya stood in the field, clutching his very obviously broken finger, pain etched across his face.
…Yeah, he had a point.
"Can't really argue with that, can I?" I chuckled, grinning. Oh brother, Midoriya, you're losing so much aura right now.
For a second, he kept that stoic, unreadable face—but then, just barely, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Mister tough guy over here.
"I'm Kuroiro."
"Nirengeki Shoda."
Yeah, this class ain't so bad after all.
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The school bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and honestly, I couldn't have been happier. It felt like the sweetest music to my ears.
Standing up from my desk, I slung my bag over my shoulder and began to head toward the door. But before I could make my escape, Itsuka Kendo approached me with that usual inquisitive smile of hers. I've only known her for a day, yet it feels like I've known her my whole life.
Is this what a beautiful woman does to a man?
"Where are you heading off to?" she asked, a genuine curiosity lacing her voice. Someone is interested in me.
It seemed like I had made a friend.
"Department of Support," I answered without skipping a beat as I walked past her. However, I had better things to do.
Her head tilted in interest. "Why? Got a friend over there?" She asked, stepping lightly in pace with me as I walked. Is she following me right now?
I gave her a quick glance before explaining, "The Department of Support at U.A. helps with more than just gear. They do hero costumes too. And unlike agencies, it's free here, and there's a lot more freedom when it comes to testing out the gear right on the spot. Basically, I'm getting the bulk of my suit done here, or at least the important parts."
She nodded thoughtfully, a genuine smile forming on her face. "I see. That's really good to know. So you're just gonna pick some random person to help you out?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Nah, I already know who's gonna help me."
As we continued walking, the conversation flowed easily. Her interest seemed to deepen with every word I spoke about my suit. A few minutes later, we reached the door to the department, and I swung it open, finding a mostly empty room as most of the students had already left for the day.
But there, sitting at a workbench, was Mei Hatsume, completely absorbed in her project, surrounded by piles of tools and parts. In the anime, it didn't go into detail about just how great her creative capabilities are, but fortunately for her. I will. She and I will be great friends.
As I slowly walked up to Mei Hatsume with Itsuka Kendo by my side, I could already feel the anticipation in the air. I stopped a few feet away from her workbench, taking a deep breath before speaking up.
"Excuse me?" I said, my voice cutting through the hum of machinery.
Mei froze, lifting her goggles up and revealing a confused expression, her eyes scanning both me and Itsuka. "Do I know you two?" she asked, clearly trying to place us.
I smirked, tapping into what I had researched last night. "Not at all, but I know you, Mei Hatsume," I started, each word coming out with precision. "**** Junior High's greatest mind. When you were in elementary, you created a jetpack that could reach the clouds from just scraps in the trash near your school. In junior high, you built a pair of boots that had an electromagnetic force that made you float against anything and could make you go 100mph. And now, you attend U.A. High School, I'm guessing, to become its greatest inventor. After that, I'm sure you're heading off to do even greater things that will help heroes."
I finished my speech and casually grabbed a chair from nearby, sitting down as if I hadn't just dropped a bombshell. The shock was palpable on the faces of both Itsuka and Mei. Yeah, I did my research on her. I mean, I had to. I couldn't just walk up to her and ask her to create things for me, although...I'm starting to think I could've.
Mei's face was frozen for a moment, her eyes wide, but then a bright, proud smile spread across her face. "You've done your research..." she said, her voice filled with amusement, though it was clear she appreciated the recognition. "And thankfully, it was worthwhile. So, what do you need me to create?" She was straight to business, no time wasted.
Perfect. I expected this, but regardless, it's amazing how much into support gear she is.
Kendo, on the other hand, wasn't as quick to let things go. She raised an eyebrow and turned to Mei, her voice filled with genuine surprise. "Wait, you're going to ignore the fact this guy knows your whole life story?"
Mei just beamed at her, eyes sparkling with that signature enthusiasm. "Well, clearly the man needs babies, and I'm all here for it!"
I couldn't help but grin at the situation. This was exactly what I needed.
"Right," I said, rolling my shoulders and leaning forward, "I have a suit. However, my suit needs to be capable of carrying a few gadgets. Gadgets I need you to make. Here's the blueprint."
Stuffing my hand in my bag, I handed her the blueprint.
Mei's eyes gleamed with excitement as she flipped through the pages of my notebook, her fingers tracing over the detailed sketches and annotations. Her expression shifted from curiosity to sheer enthusiasm, as if I had just handed her the most exciting project of her life.
A huge grin broke across her face. "I have to admit... this is incredible. I can definitely make these things, but it's going to take me a while, depending on when you have to put on your hero costume." she said, nodding as she absorbed every detail. Then, her gaze flicked up to me, sharp and assessing. "The real question is—are you that strong physically?"
I deadpanned, not even missing a beat. "Don't worry about that," I answered quickly.
She chuckled but didn't press further. Instead, she pointed at one of the designs. "Alright then, let's start with this—your quiver. You want it sleek, minimalistic yet capable of carrying around 50 arrows? That's... a lot of weight," she mused, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled knowingly. "I know, but it's fine." You guys may think this is excessive, but if anything, this is the lowest number I have to do for now. I need arrows for every scenario.
She hummed as she continued reading, her excitement visibly growing. "So, basic arrows with no mechanisms, multiple explosive arrows, a sonic arrow, one with EMP capabilities—Jesus, the list just keeps going. I see why you need your quiver to hold so many."
She flipped to another page and tapped a different design. "Arm braces—right one functions as a grappling hook, left one absorbs hits and redirects kinetic energy... Now that's an interesting concept. There's a superhero in America with a quirk like that, I guess you want it to function like that."
Her eyes widened slightly as she read further. "Plus, small shurikens attached to the back for quick access. And the rest... well, I'll need more time to refine those ideas. Well, specifically, I'll need you."
She finally closed the notebook and let out an impressed whistle. "Wow, this is... a lot." However, contrary to her seemingly hesitant words, a massive grin stretched across Mei's face. She had the kind of look a scientist gets when they're on the brink of a breakthrough.
"But this... this is amazing. You're going to be my lab rat for the entire year!" she declared, practically vibrating with energy. Her fingers twitched, itching to start sketching or building. She looked like a crack head about to get another dose of meth.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Don't worry. If you come up with any ideas for me, I'll give them a shot. I'll be your test subject, your guinea pig, whatever you need. And as payment, I'll always be in your corner. I'll use your gear, show it off, make sure everyone knows who made it." My words were genuine, and I meant every single one. I remember her in the sports festival wanting business to see her gear.
Her grin remained, but something flickered in her expression. A pause. A moment of thought. Then, she leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface.
"Perfect," she finally said, her voice dropping slightly in intensity—more measured, serious. "But one last thing, Shoda. Do you have any idea how much equipment this is going to take? How much time? How many materials?" Her grin faded just a little, her bright pink eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that showed she was someone you couldn't just make use of.
"This isn't just some quick project. I have to sacrifice resources—real, valuable stuff. If I agree to this, I need to know it won't be wasted. That you won't flake out. That you won't suddenly decide to change everything and throw all my work down the drain." Her fingers stopped tapping, and her gaze hardened. "Give me one good reason I should commit to this."
The room felt smaller, quieter. Even Kendo, who had been standing beside me, watching the exchange, stayed silent.
I didn't hesitate. My gaze didn't waver, I leaned forward even more so she could see my resolve reflected in my eyes. "Because I won't quit. Because with your help, I'm going to become one of the best heroes in history. And when I do, it's going to be your gear that gets me there. Imagine it, Hatsume—your name, your inventions, not just in U.A., not just in Japan, but worldwide."
A beat of silence.
"And this gear... It's more than just a suit. More than just tools. They're my weapons—to survive, to fight, to protect the people who can't protect themselves."
Silence.
That was...corny. But true. And if anything, I was underselling how much I needed this gear.
I expected skepticism. Maybe even a laugh. But instead.
"Alright!" Mei suddenly shouted, her voice bursting with excitement as she shot up from her chair. Before I could react, she practically launched herself at me, arms wrapping around me in an unexpected, crushing bear hug.
I stiffened for a second before smirking. She was warm. Her energy was contagious.
Pulling back just as fast as she had grabbed me, Mei grinned from ear to ear, eyes shining like polished glass. She extended her hand, her fingers twitching as if she couldn't contain her anticipation.
"Then from now on, we're partners!" she declared. "Let me formally introduce myself—Mei Hatsume, U.A. High School's best inventor. And the only one crazy enough to build the gear of a future top hero."
I looked at her hand—calloused, worn from hours of work, yet steady with purpose. She was a hard worker. I gripped it firmly.
"Nirengeki Shoda," I replied, meeting her gaze with the same determination burning in my chest.
At that moment, an unspoken promise formed between us. A partnership built not on convenience.
Kendo stood there, silent, her mouth slightly open, eyes flickering between me and Mei. It was a look of pure awe, like she had just witnessed something far bigger than she expected.
I had almost forgotten she was still here.
Then, after a moment, she shifted awkwardly, a light blush dusting her cheeks as she rubbed the back of her neck. "I also... have some stuff I want to try out for my hero suit," she admitted, her voice a little hesitant but still firm.
I couldn't help but laugh at her nervousness, and Mei? She absolutely beamed.
"Anything you need!" Mei practically shouted, spinning to face Kendo with her signature manic enthusiasm. "I'll make sure you get the best support gear you've ever seen!"
Kendo blinked before smiling, "Thank you." Her voice was soft but genuine, and for a moment, the energy in the room felt a little more grounded.
Hatsume, however, had an entirely different reaction. Her eyes widened as if she had just remembered something crucial. "Wait right here!" she suddenly exclaimed, spinning on her heel and dashing toward her desk.
I exchanged a glance with Kendo, who shrugged, just as confused as I was.
A few seconds later, Hatsume returned with a stack of papers in her hands, slapping them onto the workbench with a victorious grin. "You have to sign these," she declared, tapping the top sheet. "Since I'll be working on your hero costumes, it's all official. Funny enough, we got these today for some reason—on the very first day of school!"
I raised an eyebrow, flipping through the forms. "Damn, U.A. wastes no time, huh?" I mumbled to myself, with a sweat drop running down my temple. This is definitely a hero school.
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U.A. High's principal, a man of intellect, power, and hidden layers of mystery, sat behind his massive desk. Despite his small stature, the authority he carried filled the room as if he were a towering figure. His sharp eyes, hidden behind thick glasses, gleamed with the quiet confidence of someone who saw the world not just as it was but as it could be. His paws steepled together, tapping against his chin as he pondered, his mind sharp and calculating.
Across from him stood Aizawa, the perpetually tired homeroom teacher of Class 1-A. His disheveled appearance and constant exhaustion only made his presence more commanding. His tired eyes narrowed slightly as he questioned the decision.
"Are you serious? Why this year out of all of them?" Aizawa's voice, although laden with fatigue, carried an edge of curiosity and concern, his gaze never leaving the principal's face.
The principal's lips curled into a small, knowing smile as if he anticipated this reaction. He leaned back in his oversized chair, his fingers still tapping rhythmically. "I don't know, Aizawa. The U.S.J trip has been handled by individual classes for years now, so why not shake things up? Let's see how much they can learn from each other." His voice, cool and collected, carried a weight of something deeper, something that only he truly understood.
He paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch, before his tone turned more serious. "The number of students may be large, but I'm confident you and Vlad King can handle them."
Aizawa's brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing at first, his mind racing through the possibilities. He had his doubts, of course. But the principal rarely made decisions without a reason, and it wasn't his place to question the system that had been in place for so long. Still, such a large group of students—each with their own quirks, egos, and ambitions—was a challenge no matter how seasoned the teachers were.
"If you say so," Aizawa sighed in reply, his voice gravelly but accepting. "This is going to be tiresome."
The principal's smile widened just a fraction, though there was no real humor in it—only the cold satisfaction of knowing that Aizawa, despite his weariness, would exceed his expectations and teach the kids several valuable lessons of being a hero. "I trust you'll make it work. The students need to understand not just their own strengths but how to handle others'. Let's see what this year brings, shall we?"
With that, the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun. But the weight of the decision lingered in the air, the sense of anticipation growing with every passing moment.