You were always hated at U.A. You never knew why. From day one, your classmates looked down on you, the teachers ignored you, and even All Might—the symbol of peace—seemed uncomfortable with your presence. It was a constant pain, a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. You felt invisible, or worse, a nuisance. But one night, alone in your dorm, you decided to do something pointless: record yourself singing.

You always knew your voice was good, but you never thought it was that great. You uploaded the video on an impulse, closed your laptop, and went to bed, hoping for nothing.

But when you woke up… and opened your laptop, the notification blinded you.

Thousands of views. Hundreds of comments. "Your voice is art," "You made me cry," "Who are you?" For the first time, you weren't the outcast. You weren't the weirdo. You were someone.

Every night, you recorded a different song. Jazz, pop, rock, even in English. Your channel grew like fire on gasoline. And the best part: no one at U.A. knew. You hid behind a stage name and never showed your face.

One day, you received an invitation to an exclusive artist party in Roppongi Hills. Your hands shook as you read it. It was real. You traveled by plane, VIP class. You tried not to show emotion, even though inside, you were on the verge of collapse.

At the airport, a black car met you. The driver didn't say a word as you drove through the illuminated avenues of Tokyo. You arrived at the hotel: a glass building that looked like something out of this world.

You approached the front desk. A woman in an impeccable uniform looked at you with a polite smile.

Receptionist: "Good evening. Name, please?"

You gave her your alias. Her eyes widened slightly.

Receptionist: "Oh... Welcome. Your room is on the 25th floor. Here's your card. If you need anything, dial 0 from the phone. Enjoy your stay."

You thanked her, a little nervously.

You took the elevator. You felt like you were finally someone. Upon arrival, you opened the door to your room and found yourself in a place bigger than your dorm at U.A. Everything was white, shiny, and luxurious. You showered, put on a sleek black suit, and just as you were about to turn on the TV, there was a knock on the door.

You thought it was an employee... maybe another singer. You walked calmly toward the door.

But as you opened it, your heart stopped.

There they were.

Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, Kirishima, Asui, Jiro, Kaminari, Shoji, Sero, Tokoyami, Aoyama, Hagakure, Sato, Koda, Mina, Ojiro, and Mineta. They all looked at you as if they had discovered a crime.