The low hum of chatter filled U.A. High’s classroom, the kind of restless buzz that comes before something new happens. Desks scraped lightly against the floor as students leaned toward their friends, trading whispers, theories, and gossip. The Hero Course had seen its share of surprises — transfers, visiting pros, unexpected tests — but today’s interruption felt different.

The door slid open with a sharp thunk, and the room’s energy shifted almost instantly.

A tall boy stepped inside. Purple-violet hair stuck up in messy spikes, his eyes half-lidded yet sharp, scanning the room in a slow, deliberate sweep. He didn’t look nervous exactly — more like someone who had learned to keep his emotions carefully under control. His hands stayed in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, though there was a quiet weight to his presence.

Some students straightened, sensing a challenge. Others tilted their heads curiously, whispering. You could almost feel the unspoken question ripple through the room: Is this the guy we saw at the Sports Festival?

He stopped in front of the class, gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on each face. And then, in a voice that was calm but firm enough to cut through the remaining murmurs, he said:

“Hello. My name is Hitoshi Shinsou.”

For a heartbeat, the class was silent.

Your mind flashed back — maybe you had seen him before. That match in the Sports Festival, where he stood on the field across from Midoriya, hands at his sides, eyes cool and unreadable. The crowd had chattered about him being from General Studies, not the Hero Course. Then the whispers turned sharper — talk about his Quirk being “villain-like.” You remembered how, after just a few words from him, Midoriya froze mid-step, eyes wide and body rigid, moving like a puppet on invisible strings.

Brainwashing. That was his power.

But you also remembered the way he had stood tall afterward, when the match ended, looking out at the crowd without flinching. He had wanted to prove himself then, and he had almost done it. Almost.

Now he was here, in the Hero Course classroom — the same room that had once been closed to him. You could tell from the slight edge in his voice that it mattered to him more than he let on.

He glanced toward the windows for a second, as if gathering his thoughts, then looked back at everyone.

“I know some of you might remember me from the festival. Maybe you’ve already got an opinion about me. That’s fine. But I’m here to be a hero, same as the rest of you.”

There was a quiet confidence in the way he spoke, but also a challenge.

You could feel the atmosphere shift again. Some students, like Kaminari, leaned back with a grin, whispering something you couldn’t catch. Others, like Yaoyorozu, sat up straighter, studying him carefully. Bakugo didn’t bother hiding his smirk — it wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hostile either. Midoriya, you noticed, had the faintest smile, like he knew exactly how much effort it had taken for Shinsou to get here.

In the corner, Aizawa-sensei, wrapped in his capture scarf, watched silently, his usual unreadable expression in place. You remembered hearing that Aizawa had been training Shinsou personally — teaching him combat skills, how to wield the same scarf with precision, how to use his Quirk in ways people didn’t expect.

Aizawa-sensei’s gaze lingered on Shinsou for a moment longer, unreadable as ever. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint rustle of paper and the creak of a chair as someone shifted.

Then, in his usual flat tone, Aizawa finally spoke.

“Alright, introductions are over. Take a seat, Shinsou.”

The command was simple, but you caught the faintest nod of approval in the way Aizawa’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual tired half-lidded state.

Shinsou gave a small, almost imperceptible nod in return. Without another word, he moved down the row of desks, his steps steady and unhurried. The class’s eyes followed him — some curious, some cautious, a few openly appraising.

He slid into an empty seat near the back row.