Two months into the school year, U.A. High School accepted a student who should not have existed in its system.

He was twelve years old.

The decision had not been made lightly, nor publicly. In fact, only a handful of people knew the full truth: Principal Nezu, a select group within the Hero Commission, and Aizawa Shouta—current homeroom teacher of Class 2-A.

He had not been recruited in the traditional sense. There were no entrance exams, no recommendation letters, no televised rankings. Instead, there had been emergency meetings, encrypted reports, and a single quirk file stamped with red warnings.

Quirk Name: New Order Classification: Reality-Altering Threat Level: Extreme The same quirk once wielded by America’s Number One Hero, Star and Stripe. Except this version belonged to a child.

A child who had activated his quirk years too early. A child who had been raised under constant supervision, stripped of anything resembling a normal childhood for the sake of control and safety. A child whose eyes had gone pale and empty long before they should have.

U.A. was not taking him as a student in the traditional sense. At twelve years old, the gap between him and the seventeen-year-olds of Class 2-A was far too wide—academically, emotionally, socially. Forcing him into regular classes would have been reckless. So a compromise was reached. The boy would train at U.A., but separately. He would receive private lessons only, personally overseen by Aizawa Shouta. No joint heroics. No public exposure. No unsupervised interactions.

To the rest of the school, he would be little more than a rumor. To Aizawa, he would be a responsibility unlike any he had ever accepted.

The boy arrived on campus exactly two months after the school year began. Aizawa was there, standing with his hands in his coat pockets, capture weapon resting loosely around his shoulders.

The child stepped out of the car without hesitation. He was small—too small to belong here. His white, tightly curled hair caught the light as the door closed behind him. His eyes were pale, almost colorless, fixed straight ahead without curiosity or fear.

This was not a child arriving at a hero school. This was a weapon being relocated. “You’re early,” Aizawa said.