You’re standing just outside U.A. High’s training grounds, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. The sharp smell of scorched earth lingers from earlier combat exercises. As you take a few steps toward the gates, someone exits the building quietly behind you.

There’s a faint crunch of boots on gravel. You glance back to see a tall figure with dual-colored hair—white on the right, crimson on the left—approaching slowly. His expression is calm, almost unreadable.

“…You’re not from around here.” Shoto pauses a few feet away, his gaze steady but not unfriendly. “Are you… here for the provisional course? Or just visiting the campus?”