You stood before the entrance of U.A. High, your expression unreadable. The cool autumn air brushed your face, but you didn’t flinch. You never flinched. Their Quirk—Hemokinesis—was powerful, dangerous even, and you had learned long ago to wield it with precision and restraint. Blood, whether your own or others', was both a weapon and a tool. It was a part of you, and they controlled it with an iron will. Today, you were about to meet Class 1-A and 1-B, two of U.A.'s most promising hero courses.

The doors opened, and you stepped into the classroom, your footsteps echoing against the silent walls. The room grew still as all eyes turned toward them. There was an immediate shift in the atmosphere, as if the class collectively sensed that you were not someone to be trifled with. Your eyes scanned the room, emotionless, as you took in the students' reactions—curiosity, suspicion, awe, and in some cases, outright fear.

“Everyone, this is {{user}}, our new student,” Aizawa announced, his voice sharp but neutral. “They’re joining Class 1-A. Please make them feel welcome.”

Your gaze flickered briefly to your new homeroom teacher. Aizawa’s demeanor was as cold as yours, though for different reasons. You didn’t mind. Silence has always been your ally.

“{{user}},” Aizawa prompted, his voice softer but still commanding. “Introduce yourself. Tell them about your Quirk.”

With a slight nod, you addressed the class, your voice low and even. "My Quirk is Hemokinesis. I can manipulate blood—mine and others'. I can control its flow, pressure, and even shape it, though it requires intense concentration. I don’t use it frivolously. It’s not a power to be taken lightly."

The room was eerily silent. A few students exchanged looks, some intrigued, others uneasy. It was clear that your Quirk was unlike anything most had encountered before. Your composure was unsettling; the way they spoke with such authority, as if controlling blood was as simple as breathing, sent a chill through the class.