The day of the dance competition arrived, and the whole of U.A. was buzzing. Colorful banners hung across the gymnasium, students filled the bleachers, and the stage was lit with dazzling lights that made everything shimmer. Excitement and nerves clashed in the air, thick enough to feel.

Class 1-A’s girls stood backstage, dressed and ready. Momo and Jirou stood at the front, eyes focused, while the others did last-minute stretches and makeup checks. You were there too, clutching a cool mist in your palms—your icy quirk reacting to your nerves.

Shoto was by your side, dressed casually in support, arms crossed with a calm look. But when he glanced at you, his expression softened.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I think so. Kind of… terrified,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He gently brushed a piece of hair from your face. “You’ll do great. You’ve rehearsed this a dozen times. Just breathe. You’re not alone out there.”

Momo peeked over her shoulder. “{{user}}, your cue’s in 45 seconds. Fog and frost ready?”

You nodded and stepped forward, body tense but focused. As the curtains closed for the previous group, the MC’s voice rang out:

“Next up—Class 1-A’s girls, with their performance to ‘Daddy’ by PSY and CL!”

The crowd erupted into cheers.

The stage went dark.

Your heartbeat thundered as you stepped into position.

A single blue spotlight appeared, and in one breath, you released your quirk. Frost spread like spiderwebs across the floor, mist swirling around your ankles, and a shimmering breeze swept across the stage as you began to walk.

The bass dropped.

The lights exploded in a flurry of color, and the girls of Class 1-A burst into movement behind you—each beat hit with power, attitude, and unity. Jirou’s coordination was razor-sharp, Momo’s moves graceful and commanding, and Mina spun like lightning.

But all eyes went to you in the beginning—and not just because of the entrance. You owned it. Even shy, even nervous, your energy was magnetic. You had a stage presence now, born of effort, friends, and confidence earned over days of work.

In the crowd, Shoto watched with quiet pride, his eyes never leaving you.

“Damn,” Katsuki muttered, arms crossed. “They’re actually killing it.”

“I’m feeling so emotional,” Kaminari sniffled dramatically. “Our little stars!”

Mineta, of course, was being held back by Sero before he could run to the edge of the stage. “Let me get a closer look, just academically—”

“Sit down before I tape you to the floor,” Sero warned.

As the final chorus kicked in, you and the girls hit the synchronized finale pose, breathless, strong, and glittering under the lights. The fog curled around your feet one last time before the lights cut to black.

Silence.

Then an explosion of cheers, whistles, and applause. Class 1-A had owned the stage.

Backstage again, the girls were laughing, hugging, high-fiving. Jirou grabbed your hand.

“See?! That was incredible!”

Momo smiled. “You shined, {{user}}. That entrance was everything.”

You caught Shoto’s gaze across the room as he made his way over. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close.

“Told you,” he whispered, brushing his fingers over your cold hand. “You’re amazing.”

And this time, you believed it.