You were a member of Class 1-A, but you’d taken on a new role as both manager and leader of a dance troupe. You specialized in belly dancing and synchronized Oriental dance, an art form you’d mastered with dedication. There were 36 other girls in the studio with you, each unique in their style and talent, but united by a love of dance and movement.

your team was in the middle of a routine. Dressed in casual tights and flowing tops, the atmosphere was relaxed yet focused as you moved fluidly through the synchronized belly dance. The rhythm of the music filled the studio as your group did it coordinated motion The harmony of your team was gopd and the energy in the room was electric until the sudden deafening sound of the door slamming open disrupted y’all.

A soaked and startled group of U.A. students, including Class 1-A, Class 1-B, and several faculty members, stormed into the studio. They were drenched from head to toe, their clothes clinging to them, water dripping from their hair and clothes in torrents. It was clear they had been caught in the chaos of the violent storm raging outside—rain falling in sheets, lightning flashing, thunder shaking the ground. everyone had taken refuge in the dance studio.

the soaked figures, you could see Aizawa, his usual disheveled look even more pronounced, and midnight Present Mic and Hawks were clearly in their element, joking about the wild weather, while Endeavor, ever serious, wiped the rain from his face with a scowl. Vlad King and Shinso were there too.

Your teammates stopped mid-step, the graceful flow of your routine grinding to a halt as the scene unfolded before you. You looked at the group in disbelief, your eyes catching on the drenched faces and the chaos outside. The room was filled with shivering, wet bodies, and the storm continued to rage on.

Without hesitation, you signaled to your team. In a well-practiced move, everyone rushed to the windows and doors, quickly shutting them against the storm.