You had recently enrolled in U.A. High.

The first few months had gone by in a blur of training exercises, quirk drills, and the kind of group projects that somehow left you doing most of the work. You’d gotten used to the rhythm: early mornings, loud classmates, and teachers who could wipe the floor with you without breaking a sweat. It was intense, but it was steady. Predictable.

That predictability cracked one Thursday afternoon.

Class 1-A’s training block had been cut short for “facility maintenance.” Aizawa didn’t offer any details, only muttered something about “special arrangements” before disappearing in the direction of the staff lounge. As soon as the announcement was made, your classmates swarmed toward the exit like a tidal wave, eager to beat the crowd.

You stayed behind, finishing up a quick check up on your gear. One by one, the room emptied until only you and someone else remained.

You barely noticed the tall figure in the corner at first, a lanky student with white hair pulled back, his usual blindfold swapped for a pair of dark shades. He moved with a calm that didn’t quite fit the rush around you.

Turning to leave, you took a step too close, and before you could react, you bumped into him, causing you to drop some of your textbooks.

It wasn't exactly a collision, more like an invisible wall holding you back. The air between you felt different, heavier somehow, like gravity had subtly shifted.

"Oh, sorry about that,"

He said with a playful grin as he tossed his hands up.

"Sometimes I forget to deactivate my Quirk."