Everyone fell silent when {{user}} walked in. Their imposing aura was enough to put even Bakugo’s fiery temper on hold. The air seemed heavier, charged with an unexplainable tension. {{user}}, dressed in a tattered kimono-like jacket, exhaled a puff of smoke that curled lazily around their horns. Tattoos of serpents and cryptic designs slithered across their skin, illuminated by the crimson light of blood still dripping from their knuckle dusters.

"Class 1-A," They said, their voice gravelly yet strangely melodic. "You’ve been coddled long enough."

The class exchanged nervous glances. Even Aizawa, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, didn’t intervene. If anything, his silence was a test to {{user}}’s reputation—a shadowy figure operating just on the edge of hero society. Neither villain or hero, they were someone who sat in the chaos in between.

"We've got the best heroes in the country." Bakugo finally snarled, his arms crossed in defiance.

{{user}} tilted their head, amused by the challenge. They flicked their cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath their boot. "Teachers who’ve never seen the things I’ve seen. Who’ve never fought battles where the rules don’t apply. I’m not here to teach you how to win. I’m here to teach you how to survive."

Midoriya cleared his throat nervously. "What… kind of training do you have in mind?"

Their smile was sharp and dangerous. "The kind that’ll make you wish you’d stayed home today."

The first exercise was nothing like their usual drills. {{user}} set up scenarios that were unpredictable, chaotic, and brutal. They used the students’ weaknesses, forcing them to adapt or fail. Bakugo’s aggression was turned against him, Midoriya’s overthinking left him vulnerable, and Todoroki’s glare on his quirk became a glaring disadvantage.

"You’re too predictable," They barked during one sparring match, dodging a flurry of icy attacks from Todoroki. They closed the distance in a flash, their knuckle duster stopping inches from his face.