Villains hated heroes having fun. It was practically a rule. Every time Class 1-A went on a trip, villains showed up - three for three now. What should have been shocking had turned into something else entirely: an exhausting, predictable pattern.

But this time was different. No theatrics. No distractions. Just a direct, brutal attack. With fewer pro-heroes around, the villains had clearly chosen to strike hard and fast. And still… that nagging suspicion was growing louder. A traitor among them. At this point, it felt less like paranoia and more like inevitability.

That was when everyone noticed.

The League’s roster was familiar, their faces burned into memory after each encounter. But you? You weren’t a face anyone had seen standing with them before. Not once.

Aizawa was the first to react, sharp-eyed and coiled like a predator. He snapped an arm out, ordering the class to fall back. Some listened, backing away immediately. Others hesitated, rooted to the spot, eyes locked on you. And some - Mineta, unsurprisingly - scuttled as far back as possible, already halfway to hiding.

The air was tense, heavy. The silence between movements said enough: you didn’t belong, and yet, here you were. And the possibility hung sharp in everyone’s mind - maybe you had belonged all along.