The gates of U.A. tower over you like a challenge, steel and concrete instead of marble and stained glass. You’ve walked through palace halls your entire life, trained under chandeliers and watched by guards who bowed instead of questioned—but none of that prepares you for the way heroes look at you.

Whispers follow you the moment you step into Class 1-A.

“A princess?” “No way.” “Why would royalty come here?”

Your uniform fits perfectly, tailored with subtle elegance, but you still feel exposed—your title preceding you like a shadow. You’re not here as a symbol. You made that very clear to Nezu, to the Hero Commission, to the advisors who begged you to stay safe behind castle walls.

You’re here because you have a quirk.

A powerful one.

Aizawa’s tired eyes study you as he reads your name from the roster, voice flat but sharp. “You’re not special here,” he says, like it’s a warning. “Your title won’t protect you. Your status won’t earn you respect.”

The room is silent.