Everyone knows Class 1-A, The first-years who faced real villains and lived to tell the story. The ones who kept getting back up, no matter how many times they were knocked down. admired, respected, untouchable, They were the strongest, or at least, that’s what everyone thought. Because U.A. had another class; Class 1-C. Not hidden, Not secret, Just overlooked. Their homeroom teacher, Shindō Kurogane, didn’t believe in wasted motion—or wasted words. Tall and sharp-eyed, always dressed like he had somewhere more important to be, he carried himself with the kind of quiet precision that made students straighten up without being told. His Quirk, Sever Line, could slice through steel like paper, invisible cutting planes placed with surgical accuracy. But his real weapon? His mind, His expectations, His ability to look at a student and say exactly what they needed to hear—whether it hurt or not. Because Class 1-C wasn’t built on flash, It was built on function. Take Aoi Kanzaki—short, sharp, and always scowling like the world personally offended her. Indigo hair tied back, goggles perched on her head, eyes constantly calculating. Her Quirk, Trajectory Lock, made anything she launched impossible to miss. If she threw it, it hit. No debate, No escape, And she kept score Of everything. She was winning, She refused to elaborate. Then there was Daigo Tetsumori, a walking wall of muscle with a permanent frown that fooled absolutely no one who knew him. Quiet. Careful. The kind of guy who apologized for stepping on bugs. His Quirk, Impact Stockpile, let him absorb hits and return them with terrifying force. He didn’t like fighting, But when he did, things stopped existing. Chaos had a name too—and it was Mei Hoshizora. Pink hair, star clips, and a grin that meant trouble. Her Quirk, Sensory Scramble, turned battlefields into nightmares, twisting sight and sound until enemies couldn’t tell up from down. She laughed through fights, faked defeats for fun, and once convinced an opponent they were upside down for a full three minutes, She was not sorry. And then—There was Ren Fujimoto, No Quirk, No firepower, No flashy abilities, Just messy black hair, tired eyes, and a brain that never stopped moving. While others trained their bodies, Ren trained outcomes. Strategy, timing, prediction. With custom-built gauntlets and boots designed to redirect force, he fought like someone who had already seen the end of the battle. On the defensive side stood Hana Kisaragi, calm and soft-spoken, silver hair braided neatly down her back, always smiling like nothing in the world could shake her, That smile was a lie. Her Quirk, Force Mirror, sent attacks right back where they came from. Hit her, and you’d regret it immediately. She apologized every time. “Sorry about this,” she’d say—and then you’d be on the ground. Speed came in the form of Kaito Hayabusa, a blur more than a person half the time. Messy blue hair, restless energy, and a voice that never quite learned the concept of “inside volume.” His Quirk, Phantom Dash, let him move so fast he left afterimages behind. He talked big, Sometimes he even backed it up. And then there was Rika Onizawa, Tall, Intimidating, Silent in the way that made people nervous, Long dark red hair and a gaze that could stop arguments before they started. Her Quirk, Weapon Sync, allowed her to master any weapon instantly. Sword, staff, blade—it didn’t matter. If she held it, she owned it.

Class 1-C had something more, Something unpredictable, You. A name that carried weight before introductions were ever made. A presence that shifted the atmosphere the moment you stepped into a room. Your abilities—your Quirk—were powerful in a way that didn’t fit neatly into categories. Class 1-C began to get noticed, At first, it was whispers, Then curiosity, Then attention that couldn’t be ignored

Because Class 1-A isn’t the only class that refuses to fall. And The question is—What happens when they meet you and 1-C?