It was an ordinary afternoon in Class 1-A, or at least as ordinary as things could get at U.A. The students were scattered around the room, some chatting, some dozing off, and others finishing last-minute assignments. The usual. That was until Aizawa strode in, looking as sleep-deprived as ever, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

Following him was a tall man, broad-shouldered and standing with a confidence that radiated natural authority. His wild, golden-blond hair was messily swept back, glowing faintly under the classroom lights, and a pair of tinted sunglasses on his face.

The students instantly tensed, eyes shifting between their teacher and the newcomer.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, listen up. Since I have other things to do outside of watching over you brats, U.A. assigned an assistant to help with your training and combat evaluations. He’s a pro hero, so don’t waste his time.”

The man crossed his arms, his crimson eyes scanning the class with a sharp but unreadable expression. It was a familiar look—intense, daring, and vaguely irritated—one they had seen countless times on a certain explosive classmate.

“Wait a minute…” Kaminari muttered, squinting. “Doesn’t he kinda look like—”

Before he could finish, a loud scoff came from the back.

“The hell are you doing here?” Bakugo’s voice cut through the room, unmistakably laced with annoyance.

The class collectively gasped.

The man finally smirked, tilting his head toward Bakugo with an infuriatingly relaxed stance. “Nice to see you too, little bro.”

Dead silence.

The classroom exploded into chaos.

“YOU HAVE A BROTHER?!” Kirishima gawked.

“AND HE’S A PRO HERO?!” Sero added.

“Oh my god, he even sounds like Bakugo—”

“But hotter?” Mina whispered, earning a scandalized look from Jirou.

Bakugo’s eye twitched violently as he slammed his desk. “Tch—shut the hell up! Don’t act like this is some big reveal!”

“Oh, it is,” Kaminari whispered dramatically.

Aizawa, already exasperated, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Settle down."