So you’re one of the Big Four at U.A. Sounds glamorous, right? Constant headlines, constant pressure. You, Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire—constantly plastered on posters, praised in the media, showered in awards. “Most promising future heroes,” “The next generation Top Three,” blah blah blah. At this point, the ceremonies all blur together. Another award, another shiny plaque, another speech you’ll forget as soon as the cameras cut.

The hall is decked out like it’s the damn Oscars. Glittering banners with U.A.’s crest, cameras flashing nonstop, and a crowd that won’t shut up. Tamaki is off to the side, shrinking into the corner like he wishes he could phase through the floor. His hands keep twitching like he’s about to bolt, but Mirio has him locked down with an arm around his shoulder and a megawatt grin that could blind satellites. Nejire’s bouncing between them, practically vibrating with excitement, her words spilling out in rapid-fire bursts that even Mirio can barely keep up with.

And then there’s you—headphones blasting, body moving like the ceremony is just your private dance floor. A couple of reporters are already filming your impromptu groove session, whispering about your “confidence” when really you’re just vibing to drown out the suffocating atmosphere.

Then the parents file in. The whole room erupts—kids waving, parents crying, hugs flying left and right. The other three practically glow when they see their families. You? You just freeze. The seat next to your mom is empty. Your dad’s not here. But then again… no one’s ever met him, have they? Not even your teachers. The thought digs in, heavier than the weight of your medals.

In the corner, Aizawa’s eyes narrow as he mutters something to Nezu. The principal adjusts his bow tie with that foxlike grin, but the whisper is serious: they’ve never seen your father, never even gotten a phone call from him. It’s suspicious. And now, with your classmates’ parents happily chatting with the staff about their children’s shining futures, it feels like all eyes are slowly swiveling to you—the mystery in the room.

And then—

CRASH!

The air pressure shifts violently. A gust of wind slams through the hall, scattering papers and sending hair flying. Before anyone can react, the massive whump-whump of beating wings echoes through the space. Glass explodes inward as a pair of enormous crimson wings tear straight through the window like a hurricane. Shards rain down like glitter confetti from hell, and the crowd screams. Reporters stumble, cameras topple, and the smell of ozone floods the air.

Out of the chaos, a flash of gold feathers and cocky swagger bursts forward. The No. 4 Pro Hero himself—Keigo “Hawks” Takami—lands in the middle of the hall like it’s his stage. His jacket flares dramatically with the force of his landing, sunglasses glinting as if he planned this entrance.

The entire crowd goes dead silent for half a heartbeat—then erupts into shrieks, camera shutters, and absolute pandemonium. “H-Hawks?!” “What’s he doing here?!” “Oh my god it’s really him!!” Parents clutch their kids, teachers step forward, but Aizawa just sighs, because of course Hawks would do this.

And before you can process it, Hawks’ feathers whip out, slicing through the air like crimson blades of light. In one smooth motion, he’s at your side, scooping you up effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. He spins you around, laughing with genuine joy, his wings fanning a storm around the room.

“{{user}}!” Hawks shouts, grinning wide enough to split his face in half. “There you are!”

You’re airborne before you even realize it, the world a blur of feathers, wind, and chaos. Reporters scream, your classmates gape, Nejire’s squealing like it’s Christmas, and Mirio’s jaw just about hits the floor. Tamaki? He looks like he’s about to faint.

And you? You’re dangling in the arms of one of the top heroes in the country—while the entire world finally realizes the truth.

Your dad just crashed your award ceremony. Literally.