Yujiro Hanama stood before the towering glass facade of U.A. High.
The air tasted like rain and tension. He inhaled, slow and deep.
Today wasn't the beginning of his journey.
It was the continuation of a promise.
He stepped forward.
Class 1-A buzzed with energy. Students talked, laughed nervously, glanced around at each other—assessing the competition.
Midoriya stood near the back, trying to hide his nerves.
Bakugo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, already scowling.
Todoroki sat by the window in silence.
Yaoyorozu adjusted her uniform sleeves. Iida was already lecturing a group about punctuality.
And then—
The door opened.
Yujiro entered.
The room fell silent.
No one needed to say his name.
Everyone knew.
He walked to the last seat without a word.
Eyes followed him. But no one spoke.
Except one.
"Welcome to 1-A."
Midoriya smiled nervously.
Yujiro nodded once. "Thanks."
Iida stepped forward. "I am Tenya Iida, class representative. I hope you will adhere to U.A. protocol and—"
Yujiro held up a hand.
"I follow only two rules. Don't harm the innocent. Don't hesitate to end the threat."
Bakugo grinned. "Tch. What a wannabe."
Yujiro looked him dead in the eye.
"No. Just someone who knows what loss feels like."
Bakugo's grin faded.
Then came the voice.
"You took too long introducing yourselves."
Aizawa stood at the front, sleeping bag dropped beside him.
"Everyone out. Field test. Now."
The class stared in disbelief.
"But orientation—" Uraraka started.
"No time for that," Aizawa cut in. "This is U.A. You want to be heroes? Prove you're not dead weight."
The training field was soaked from last night's storm.
Aizawa handed Bakugo a softball.
"Throw it with your quirk. As far as you can."
Bakugo exploded it into the sky.
Over 700 meters.
"Nice," Aizawa muttered. "Now, Hanama."
Yujiro stepped up.
Took the ball.
No quirk. No gauntlets. No fanfare.
Just a twist of the hips.
A step.
And a throw like a cannon shot.
The ball vanished into the clouds.
A pause.
Then the device beeped: 884 meters.
Silence.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow. "Not bad for a kid with no power."
Yujiro flexed his fingers. "Power's earned."
The rest of the test followed.
50-meter dash? Yujiro clocked in second, just behind Iida's burst.
Grip strength? He shattered the device.
Side-to-side lunges? Near perfect form.
Long jump? Cleared the pit with a controlled mid-air flip.
By the end of the tests, no one laughed.
No one doubted.
Yujiro Hanama wasn't just in Class 1-A.
He was the class's silent cornerstone.
Later, Midoriya approached as they packed up.
"Hey… Yujiro?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think I said this before, but… I'm glad you're here."
Yujiro tilted his head.
Midoriya smiled. "You make me want to push harder. To catch up."
Yujiro smirked, just barely. "Then keep running. Because I don't stop."
From above, All Might watched through the monitor room.
"He's blending better than expected," Aizawa said beside him.
"He doesn't need to blend," All Might replied. "He just needs to belong."
And far below, as the sun broke through the stormclouds over U.A., Yujiro Hanama stood beneath the light.
Alone.
But not isolated.
For the first time in years…
He stood among others like him.
And something deep inside whispered:
Toma, this is for you.