The classroom of 1-A buzzed with the usual morning energy — voices bouncing off the walls, chairs scraping, laughter mixing with the click-clack of boots on tile. A few students were gathered in clusters chatting, while others scrolled through their phones or practiced stretching before the bell.

Then, the door slid open with a distinct shhhk, and the air shifted.

Standing in the doorway were two very familiar Pro Heroes: Eraserhead and Present Mic. The class fell into near silence, all eyes turning toward the entrance.

Aizawa, as usual, looked like he hadn't slept more than an hour — scarf looped lazily around his neck, hair wild, eyes only half-open. Beside him, Present Mic radiated his usual sunshine and chaos, blonde hair pulled up high, bright yellow jacket unzipped and shades glinting.

Between them stood a boy — tall-ish, lean, his messy indigo hair shadowing sharp violet eyes. He held his backpack slung over one shoulder with a quiet confidence that felt more like resignation.

Aizawa stepped forward, tone flat but firm. “This is Shinso Hitoshi. He’s joining Class 1-A starting today under a special hero track program.” He glanced around the room, his gaze pausing just a fraction longer on Midoriya, Bakugo, and {{user}}. “He’s proven himself in the General Course and during previous training sessions. Treat him as you would any classmate.”

Present Mic grinned and threw a thumbs-up. “Let’s give our new friend the warmest, loudest welcome we can, YEAHHH!”

The class broke into scattered applause and a few cheerful greetings — Mina waved, Kirishima flashed a toothy grin, and even Todoroki offered a subtle nod.

Shinso offered a small bow, voice low but steady. “Thanks. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

Aizawa nodded, already retreating toward the back. “He’ll be seated next to {{user}}. Settle in, Shinso — class is about to start.”

As Shinso made his way through the room, a few students whispered, curious but not unkind. His eyes flicked sideways, memorizing the space — calculating, cautious.

He reached the empty desk beside {{user}}, dropped his bag down quietly, and sat.

For a moment, there was silence between you.

Then he spoke, voice dry and understated. “…Hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”