"People are not equal from birth... The truth everyone in society knows."


"Clamminess, nausea, headaches… Shouta, you're very lucky your daughter didn't suffer a severe heat stroke."

The sunlight was blinding as it made its way through the blinds of Recovery Girl's office. A migraine still pounded subtly in my skull, a sharp twinge accompanying it as I opened my eyes. The sun was like an onslaught of razor sharp knives to my eyes, tender from my overexertion in our mock fight in All Might's class. I blinked several times, my eyesight becoming more clear each time.

My entire body ached, and with each miniscule movement it felt like my head might explode; I wondered vaguely if this was what a hangover felt like. The coolness of the stiff doctor's office sheets was relieving, and the plushness of the mattress and pillows was comforting. I looked to my left, my eyes coming to rest on Recovery Girl, who was perched on a stool a few feet from my bed. By her side stood my father, Aizawa Shouta, whose normally placid demeanor was marred with worry as he listened carefully to what Recovery Girl was telling him.

"Does this happen very often?" Recovery Girl asked. She kept her tone light, noticing that my father's face was creased with worry; between that and the redness caused by his dry eye, he was looking rather worse for wear. "I remember something happening like this when she was just a young girl, but not recently…"

"Yes…" my father murmured pensively. The two of them had yet to realize that I had woken up. "This happened a lot when she was very young, and when we first started training." he continued. For a moment he glanced over in my direction, and I snapped my eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness; I wanted to hear what he had to say. "Something about her Quirk causes her core temperature to rise a lot when she's using it. From what All Might said, she did quite a lot on her own during the mock battle… No doubt going past her limits with her Quirk has the potential to raise her temperature to a dangerous level."

"I fail to see how an elemental Quirk that isn't related to fire would cause one's body temperature to rise…" Recovery Girl mused; my father nodded.

"Yes, I've considered that." he replied. His voice was very low now, a harsh whisper, though whispers accomplished little in the small office the three of us currently occupied. "I can only imagine that it has something to do with the mechanics of the Quirk. Although…" He paused.

"Although…?" Recovery Girl pressed. My whole body was stiff with anticipation; this conversation had taken quite a turn. Had my father been hiding things about my Quirk from me? If so, what was it? I had to know…

"I've noticed she is always running a low fever, even if she isn't sick. She's always sweating. Even when Daichi isn't using her Quirk, her body temperature is constantly well above average." Recovery Girl made a thoughtful noise in her throat, urging my father to continue. "I have always wondered…"

"Wondered?" Recovery Girl said; she could no longer disguise her own eagerness. "Wondered what?" My father took a deep breath, though I could tell by the sound of it that it had done nothing to calm his nerves.

"I have always wondered how- or rather, why- Daichi got an elemental Quirk like that between her mother and I." he said at last. His voice was low and serious, and my breath caught in my throat. He rarely spoke of my mother. "Quirks are proven to be hereditary… My Quirk negates things. Essentially, I can manipulate a person's Quirk to stop. Izanami's… Well, we've seen what her Quirk is capable of… And that's not even taking into account Daichi's sib-"

I coughed and spluttered without warning, my loud hacking disrupting the exchanged between my father and Recovery Girl that I had been eavesdropping on. I had suddenly realized that I had forgotten to breathe this entire time.

"Ah- Daichi-chan!" Recovery Girl breathed, sounding relieved. The expression my father wore was apprehensive; did he know that I had been awake this whole time? "Thank goodness, awake at last."

"Ah- how- how long was I out?" I asked through my coughing fit.

"Several hours." my father answered. I felt something warm come to rest on my head, and peering upwards I realized that my father had sat himself at the head of my bed, his fingers running themselves through my hair in a comforting manner. "Your classmates have gone home. Todoroki Shouto brought you here, stayed longer than I'd've liked." he grumbled, his tone sounding sour. Despite myself, I giggled at his fatherly charm. "Midoriya's motley crew came to visit you on their way out, as well."

"That was nice of them…" I murmured, smiling as I spoke.

My father smiled, patting my head softly again before handing me a cup of water, which I accepted. It was only when I moved my hand to reach for the cup that I realized that I was hooked up to an IV.

"They brought you some applesauce from the cafeteria, but I ate it." my father said at length. I stopped drinking my water.

"Papa!" I shouted, placing the cup down roughly. "Don't go eating my get well snacks, what's your problem?"

"You were asleep for such a long time," he sighed as Recovery Girl chuckled from the foot of my bed. "I feared you may never wake up."

"Yeah, right!"

"I'll cook you something when we get-"

My father's words were cut off sharply by the door to the infirmary being opened, a loud thud! meeting my ears as it hit the doorframe roughly. In the door stood Bakugo Katsuki; he looked thoroughly flustered, his eyes narrow and angry, mouth contorted in a strange snarl that made his teeth jut out past his lips, which were curling threateningly. Upon noticing my father, who was still sitting at the head of my bed, his mask of rage contorted slightly to make room for his confusion.

"Aizawa-sensei…" he muttered darkly, stepping into Recovery Girl's office. "What're you doin' here?"

"One of my students almost suffered a severe heat stroke," my father lied easily. His black eyes were regarding Katsuki with a calm displeasure, which I was sure was more than evident to Katsuki from his place in the doorway. "I felt it my duty to check up on her. On that note, what are you doing here, Bakugo?"

Despite pretending to be nothing more than my homeroom teacher, my father could do very little to disguise the guarded and threatening tone in his voice. It was the kind of voice a father used when their daughters were taken out on a date for the first time, while they were giving the boy a talking to; the fact that this tone was being directed at Katsuki made me somewhat frustrated.

"I came to talk to Landslide." Katsuki replied calmly. His thin eyes were regarding me a rebellious sort of anxiousness that I did not recognize; somewhere between annoyance and betrayal.

"Landslide?" I asked, my eyebrow twitching to display my own annoyance. Katsuki chuckled, but it came out as more of a huff.

"You really brought the house down, y'know," he muttered as he closed the door behind him. My father and I exchanged glances, doing our best to keep our mutual understanding of the situation between ourselves. "Who woulda' known that a squirt like you had so much raw power?"

"Anyone." I replied bitterly. "Anyone with half a mind to pay attention." Katsuki laughed, sounding equally bitter. "Besides, I wouldn't call what I did power. I lost control, more like." Another bitter laugh. "As you said, I brought the house down. That was never my intention."

"You held that whole building together while you and those others escaped." Katsuki continued. I felt a grip tighten on my left shoulder, suddenly aware that my father had placed his hand there; he did not look happy. "That Arctic idiot may've had to carry you, but you held a whole building together with your mind."

"What's your point, Katsuki?" I hissed. My tone was no longer amiable; my headache had returned, along with a faint queasiness in the pit of my stomach. Katsuki had overstayed his welcome, and I was not the most patient of people. "If you've got something to say, get to it. Holding together an entire structure can take a lot out of a girl."

I blinked quizzically, my blue eyes watching carefully as Katsuki held out a single fist to me. His expression was hard, resolute, his thin eyes glowering at me. The effort it took his face to make the expression he was currently sporting was made evident by the creases in his forehead, as well as the faint but strained growls that escaped his mouth. His teeth were clenched.

"I'll rise above you." he said at last. He was not bothering to maintain an inside voice. "You, Deku, that kid with the ice- I'll rise above you all! I am going to be the top hero, d'you hear me?"

I paused; my father's grip on my shoulder had tightened still further. It hurt, but I figured I would let him have his way for now. I would use the dull throb in my shoulder as collateral for a bowl of fresh congee* when we got home. My lips were now drawn taught, a firm line across the bottom of my face. Katsuki was watching me, his gaze fired with competition. He was serious; he had come all of this way just to give an open declaration of war, however superficial and childish the declaration itself may have been.

"Katsuki," I began at last. A faint grunt escaped my lips as I sat up straighter; the needle in my arm tugged in an uncomfortable way, and my head throbbed with every movement I made. My father's hand tried to force me back down, but I ignored it. "Katsuki, tell me, what is Todoroki Shouto's weakness?"

My question was met with silence. Katsuki's expression flickered, the enraged contortion of his face faltering as he began to consider my question. My blue eyes observed him calmly all the while, my gaze slightly obstructed by loose tendrils of my creamy orange hair; it had become very disheveled during my nap, it seemed. When several minutes had passed with no answer, the four of us occupying a space of tense silence, I took my chance to speak again.

"The truth is, you don't know it." I said calmly. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see my father watching me, giving me his full attention. Katsuki, too, had abandoned his fury to instead focus on my words, albeit begrudgingly. "You don't know Shouto's weakness… You don't know Izuku's, and despite being in the infirmary right now, you don't know what mine is, either."

"What's your point?" he snapped, hands balling into fists. "What, you just trying to rub it in my face that all of you are looking down on me? Huh?"

"Hardly." I replied curtly. "I'm trying to rub it in why, as you are now, you'll never be number one."

I had never seen Katsuki look so angry. His face had turned a deep shade of red, angry sweat beading at his brow line before dripping down the side of his face, temple to chin; I could see very clearly the vein in his temple. His teeth were gritting inside of his mouth, I could even hear the scraping noise they made as his molars rubbed against each other.

"You're being naive, Katsuki, and naive people like you can't be number one." I continued. "You don't pay any mind to other people. I don't know if that's because of some kind of self-righteous confidence, or just arrogant disregard. Either way, while some people will admire that in you, it's your biggest flaw and weakness."

"What the he-"

"Do you think All Might ignores his opponents, or his comrades, and only focuses on himself?" I asked, my tone harsher than before. Katsuki withdrew slightly, considering my words. "No. Of course he doesn't. If he did that, he wouldn't be where he is today. Do you really think you can be the number one hero, even a good hero, if you don't pay attention to the people you're working with and against?"

Katsuki's breathing had become labored, heavy, and I could tell that had my father not been here, or Recovery Girl, he definitely would have tried something by now. Despite all of that, I barrelled on, not caring how he felt about what I was saying, or what he wanted to do to me. My head throbbed, my stomach hurt, and he had the audacity to barge into the infirmary to force his superficial, one-sided competition on me? I refused to let him get away unscathed.

"You can't even become a good villain that way."

"Why, you little-!"

"That's enough."

Katsuki had frozen in place, though I could tell by the way he stood that he had intended to come at me. Recovery Girl was looking at him with a mixture of pity and apprehensiveness; when I glanced up at my father, I suddenly realized why Katsuki had stopped in his tracks.

Aizawa Shouta wore one of the most terrifying expressions that I had ever seen him wear; his black eyes were almost sharklike with the way in which they now regarded Katsuki. My father was not blinking, and I was sure that Katsuki's Quirk was useless in that moment. A threatening aura rolled off of him in waves, and had I been on the receiving end of it, I was sure that I, too, would have stopped in my tracks.

"Bakugo, go home." my father said, finally blinking after five straight minutes of staring Katsuki down in complete silence. "Daichi needs to rest, and if you haven't come here to say anything more productive than that you'll be the number one hero, then I think your business here is finished."

"The hell d'you care?" Katsuki snarled, though he did not budge from his place by the door. He talked big, but in that moment I could tell that he felt afraid. My father's lips pressed into a stern line; he was not at all amused by back-talk.

"Question me again, Bakugo, and you'll regret it." he said.

My father's voice, deep and calm, bore a threat, though I was not clear about just what it was. Katsuki, however, acknowledged the strength of the conviction, bitterly turning towards the door, his expression still livid.

"Whatever," Katsuki murmured, sliding the door open and stepping outside. "Watch your back, clay hands."

Recovery Girl and I exchanged nervous glances as Katsuki exited the room, my father's body becoming immediately less tense. He dropped his hand from my shoulder, standing up in one fluid motion. Nodding to Recovery Girl he picked up my school bag from its place on the floor; Recovery Girl trotted to my side, removing the IV drip and ushering me to stand.

My bare feet touched the floor gingerly, the coolness of the tile sending shivers up my spine. It was not difficult to walk, thankfully, but my legs still shook slightly with every step. Noticing my wobbling, my father bent down in front of me, showing me his back.

"Get on kiddo." he commanded gruffly. My father had never been good at showing fatherly affection; at least, he did so far less gracefully than other fathers. I smiled; I found it to be somewhat endearing. "What's the hold up? Aren't you hungry?"

"Ok, ok," I replied airily as I hopped onto his back. His arms hooked underneath my legs, supporting my weight as he stood back up again. My school bag was still dangling from his shoulder.

"Thanks again, Recovery Girl," he said over his shoulder. Recovery Girl gave a small nod and a smile as we moved towards the door; my father opened it gingerly as he supported me with only one hand.

Our walk back home through the UA campus was silent and uneventful. My bodily and mental exhaustion got the better of me, and before I knew it I had fallen asleep, curled on my father's back, cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. My father shifting my body as he looked for his keys to our door is what jolted me out of my light slumber; I smiled tiredly, dangling my own set of keys in front of his face. I knew he was pouting, frustrated that he had not found his own before waking me up.

"That's my girl," he muttered as he forced the key into the lock; it turned with a click. "Always one step ahead of me."

My father plopped my down on the living room sofa unceremoniously, tossing my bag on the floor next to me with a grunt almost simultaneously. I spread myself out across the couch without a second thought, flipping on the television, though I left it muted; I just wanted something to stare at aimlessly.

The familiar rattling of pots and pans reached my ears from the nearby kitchen. If I peaked up over the armrests of the couch, just barely, I could see my father scurrying around the kitchen. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed that in his hand he held a bag of rice and some ginger root; he was making congee, as though he had read my mind.

"How'd you know?" I asked quietly, peeking my eyes above the armrest of the couch to stare at my father. He glanced over his shoulder, bloodshot eyes meeting mine only briefly before returning to his work on the stovetop.

"You always ask me for congee when you're sick."

The meal was a quick fix, and in no time at all the entire first floor of our house had been filled with the aromatic scent of boiling ginger. It clung to the air, filling my lungs; it was soothing, and before I knew it the nausea in my stomach had dissipated.

The couch sank in as my father took a seat at the other end, slapping my feet aside; it was half teasing, but I knew he disliked it when I put my feet on the furniture. I raised myself up on one elbow, taking the bowl that he offered me, unable to conceal my eagerness. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw him smile as I took a big spoonful, which I promptly spat back out upon realizing how hot it was. The congee scalded my tongue, and my father laughed.

"Good to see you're feeling better," he murmured as he blew on the soup in his spoon. He took a bite, smirking at me through his mouthful of soup as I nursed my burnt tongue before calmly swallowing it.

"Mm." I made a nondescript noise in my throat, concentrating on cooling my next bite of soup. My next attempt at eating went much better.

"Mind if I ask what happened out there?" my father said finally; he had so obviously been itching to ask.

"I dunno," I mumbled through a mouthful of soup. "I screwed up I guess."

"There's no point not talking about it. I have all of my students' evaluations, I just haven't read them yet." I frowned, annoyed. "But I'd rather hear what you have to say, first." I sighed, putting my bowl on the coffee table, spoon still stuck in the soup.

"I dunno, papa," I repeated, sighing as though answering him were the most difficult thing on the whole planet. "My partner got stuck in Shouto's ice, so I was alone-"

"You only protected yourself from the ice?"

"I already said I screwed up!" I protested, shooting my father a glare. "D'you really wanna hear what I have to say or are you just gonna interrupt me?"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, waving his hands in front of his face. He was using his calm, 'reasonable dad' voice, which was always very annoying. "Continue."

"Mashirao got stuck in the ice and couldn't move. At first it was just me and Shouto, but then his partner showed up so it was two-on-one," I said, launching into my explanation. My father watched me carefully, spooning soup into his mouth. "And that Mezo guy is no joke, he's got eight arms and they're all crazy strong!"

"Don't make excuses, just explain," I frowned, my annoyance increasing.

I snatched my bowl of soup back into my hands from the coffee table, pitifully spooning soup into my mouth as I spoke. My voice came out slightly garbled through the brothy rice and ginger mixture.

"I panicked and I used the pillars that supported the building as a shield." I continued. I heard a tsk noise from my father, which I blatantly ignored. "I know I shouldn't have. Then we ran outta time, and the building started to shake. I told them to just go, I figured Recovery Girl could just help me later and I couldn't walk while holding it up, it took too much effort. But Shouto carried me out, and I just focussed on holding it together until we were back outside."

My father nodded, slowly, placing his now empty bowl on the coffee table. He looked thoughtful, though I had trouble figuring out why. His eyes were fixed on the picture frame by the television, which housed one of the only pictures of my mother that I had ever seen. Her blue eyes- blue like mine- stared back at him, and I wondered silently what he was thinking about as he stared at her cherub-like face, locked forever behind the picture frame glass.

"I see…" he said at length, finally coming out of his trance-like state. "Well, I hope you didn't like him." my father said, his tone light. I arched an eyebrow questioningly. "That Todoroki kid," he clarified; I flushed crimson. "You threw up all over him, he had to leave early to change clothes."

"Excellent," I replied bitterly, my tongue still burning. "People sometimes get together after embarrassing stuff like that, though, right? Not that I liked him or anything!" My father was chuckling silently next to me, which only served to make me more flustered. "I don't!"

"Alright, alright." he assured me, using a calm tone of voice to keep me from getting any more riled up. "You haven't suffered this kind of heat damage in a while, so I was curious." He picked up his empty bowl and my own, standing up while he talked. "Please be more careful next time. That kind of heat stress could kill you."

My father walked back into the kitchen, bowls clinking together, the sound of running water as he did the dishes. I watched him carefully, fully aware that he was being withholding. His voice traveled back to me from his place by the sink.

"If you would just think a little before rushing in, and using the methods we work on together at home, this wouldn't happen." I arched an eyebrow, reaching for an old glass of water that sat on the coffee table in front of me.

"I know." I replied, feeling guilty. "I wasn't thinking."

"Just do what you know how to do, and you can easily best all those kids without breaking a sweat." he continued. A subtle pride laced his voice, but I decided it was best not to mention it. "I don't train you the way I do for the hell of it. Hakkeshou* works well with your Quirk- you'll do your best if you use it."

"Yes, sir…" I mumbled, feeling bitter. It was true that I performed better if I coupled my Quirk with a fighting style like Kenpo, but I often found it tricky to perform on the spot, in the field, when a real fight was actually happening.

My eyes moved away from the kitchen, back towards the picture of my mother. I had never noticed it before, but I was suddenly startlingly aware of a bend in the upper corner of the picture. It was small, something that I would not have noticed had I not been staring. My eyes traveled back to the kitchen.

More than likely, it was something I should not have noticed.


The following morning campus was in an uproar. Or, rather, the area just outside of campus was in an uproar. The news of the recent hiring of All Might had clearly spread, as expected, and various groups of media outlets had been standing outside of the gates in a tizzy, a herd of story-hungry beasts clawing at the UA barrier. My brows twitched just thinking about it; they had no shame, and worse than that they just refused to take a hint.

My father took his place at his desk in the front of the classroom, a stack of papers held carefully in his left hand. He looked more tired than usual, though he looked his prescribed amount of annoyed. He let out a sigh, glancing up at the class from his desk.

"Hope you're rested from yesterday's battle trial," he began, his voice sounding, if possible, more tired than he looked. "I took the liberty of looking at your marks and evaluation." I withheld a giggle as a collective note of surprise and anxiety issued from the class. "Bakugo," my father began, sharp black eyes falling on the angriest blonde in the whole world. His body noticeably jolted at the mention of his name. "Stop acting like a seven-year-old. You're wasting your own talent."

"I know…" Katsuki admitted darkly, much to my surprise. He did not look pleased about it, though. Ignoring Katsuki's obvious discontent, my father barreled on.

"And you," he said, eyes now turning to Izuku, who jumped in his seat more than Katsuki had. My expression softened; I felt kind of bad. "Do you always plan on destroying your arm, Midoriya?" I closed my eyes, not particularly caring to see the pained expression on Izuku's face anymore. "If you keep going I can't adjust my Quirk so I have no choice, then you'll never get terribly far. I've said it before. Don't make me say it a third time. Once you've cleared that hurdle, you'll be much more flexible, so I need to see some sweat out of you, Midoriya."

"Yes sir!" Izuku replied eagerly. My father showed little regard for his politeness or eagerness.

"Now, let's get on with homeroom notices…" he continued, shifting through some papers on his desk. A few of my classmates exchanged glances, and I heard Ashido Mina whisper 'pop test?' fearfully. "I'm sorry to have sprung this on you all, but we need to choose a class president."

"Finally, something school-like!" exclaimed Kaminari Denki, a blonde boy with an electrifying Quirk. My father did not look at all amused.

"Ooh! I wanna be class president!" Kirishima Eijiro shouted from his desk. My father's face fell as more and more students joined in the chorus, shouting the dreams of presidency from their desks all at once.

"That's like a leader position!" Mina said excitedly. "I'll do it- Me! Me!"

"Oh, you mean the position that exists for me." Aoyama Yuga bore a smug expression as if he were calmly stating a fact. My eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"My manifesto as president: all girls must expose thirty centimeters of thigh!"

My twitching eyebrows transformed into a full-blown glower, my outraged blue eyes coming to rest on Mineta, who was jumping up and down and shouting. I pursed my lips, moving my index finger on my desk in a flicking motion; simultaneously, Mineta's desk (which was mostly metal) shifted beneath him. He fell to the floor with a splat. Izuku and Ochaco looked from Mineta, spread-eagle on the floor, and then over to me suspiciously. I smiled innocently, and Tenya rolled his eyes.

"I wanna do it, too." Jiro Kyoka's expression did not change as she said this. She was by far the least enthusiastic of the bunch.

It was only then that I realized that Katsuki was also raising his hand, as well as Izuku, though I had not noticed when we initially made eye contact. I knew full well that neither I nor Katsuki would get this position, though for very different reasons. I was the daughter of the homeroom teacher, and thus I felt appropriately uncomfortable about volunteering myself. Katsuki, on the other hand, was downright inept, not to mention borderline insane.

"Be quiet!"

Tenya's yell cut through the onslaught of demands that had gushed forth from my classmates. They blanched, exchanging worried glances, immediately realizing their mistake. My father's mouth was pressed into a firm line, his bloodshot eyes regarding my classmates with obvious contempt, though he nodded at Tenya, deciding to let him speak.

"This is a task laden with responsibility where you must carry and pull everyone else's weight!" Tenya began, his voice low, as if this were the most dire situation ever. I rolled my eyes, though I was also smiling; Tenya's intensity was as endearing as it was ridiculous. "Just because you'd like to do it doesn't mean you can! It is a holy office that requires the great esteem and trust of those around you! The only truly worthy leader will emerge from a democratic choice reflecting the will of the people. That's why this must be settled by a vote!"

"Ain't he bein' a little lofty with that proposal?" Sero Hanta, a boy with a tape Quirk, chided from the middle of the room.

"We haven't even know each other long enough to gain trust in one another," Tsuyu ribbited from her desk.

"No, I agree with Tenya." I said, at last speaking up. Tenya smiled with relief; I felt Katsuki glaring at me. "Since we're all still strangers, a person who manages to pull multiple votes is clearly the person who's most appropriate." I explained. A few people nodded in agreement, while others exchanged glances as though I were an idiot. "Is it alright to do this with a vote, Aizawa-sensei?"

"Do what you want." my father replied. I realized with faint embarrassment that he was now nestled in his orange sleeping bag. "Just so long as you decide by the deadline."

And with that, voting is how we came to decide upon our class president and vice president. As per typical class elections, people wrote names on sheets of paper, slipping them into a box on my father's desk; my father was asleep on the floor, waiting for us to finish. A faint oof! escaped his lips as I left the desk after entering my own ballot, purposely trodding and pulling on the ends of his hair that escaped his sleeping bag.

The results of the election, however, were not as I had expected. Izuku, unsurprisingly, got four votes- the most in the class. This part of the results were unsurprising to me; Izuku was kind, likeable, strong, and always smiling. It did not shock me that he had been chosen, especially since he also had the most friends in the class, all of which I assumed had voted for him (myself included). However, as I regarded the results, scrawled in chalk on the blackboard, my eyes widened as they fell on my name.

"Ew," I muttered finally over Katsuki's demands to know who voted for Izuku; Ochaco was whistling rather guiltily.

I was standing next to Tenya, who looked utterly heartbroken. "Does this mean I have to do stuff?" I asked him, pointing at the blackboard. Tenya turned and looked at me, appalled by my lack of eagerness. "You could've voted for yourself, y'know!" I scolded. Tenya hung his head.

"I-I know…" he murmured darkly, hands on his desk. "Zero votes… That's alright… I insisted that the role was sacred…"

"You can have my spot, if you want," I offered, my tone breezy.

"Absolutely not!" Tenya replied, pushing me up to the front of the classroom to take my place next to Izuku. Izuku looked as nervous as I was annoyed. "These are the results of the vote, Aizawa-sensei!"

"So, then, it's president Midoriya Izuku and vice president A-" My father stopped talking, a frown contorting his features briefly before continuing. "Vice president Daichi." The class looked confused, but said nothing.

"D-D-Daichi-chan," Izuku stammered from my right. I turned and looked at him, adjusting my gaze based on his height. "I've no clue what I'm doing…"

"That's fine, me either." I said lightly, patting him on the back. "Let's run this school year into the ground together!"

"Daichi!" he exclaimed fearfully. I laughed.


The cafeteria was packed to capacity during lunch time. The multitude of bodies pressing in on me from all sides made me rather anxious, not to mention sweaty, though I did my absolute best to ignore the feeling as I pressed through the crowd. I was making my way to our usual lunch table, though I was having a lot of trouble making it even several feet.

"Having some trouble?"

A calm voice jolted me out of my flustered state. I glanced to my right, realizing that none other than Todoroki Shouto was sitting at the table directly next to where I stood. His mismatched eyes regarded me coolly from his place at the table while a steaming bowl of rice sat in front of him, temporarily forgotten. He was alone.

"N-no, I just-"

"You can sit here if that's easier."

I paused; I had not been expecting that. My body stumbled slightly, someone behind me shoving past me in a hurry. I was not even close to the table where we normally sat, which made Shouto's offer more appealing, though I was having difficulty concealing my shock from his offer; my father's words rang in my head: Well, I hope you didn't like him.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't care." he replied curtly, taking a bite of his rice. "Sit here or don't, it's not my concern."

"But you invited me." I reminded him. I couldn't exactly tell, but suddenly it seemed that his face was a bit red. "Doesn't that make it your concern, sort of?"

"Look, d'you want to sit here or not?" he muttered. "Quit making it weird."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I noticed suddenly how brilliantly his blue eye stood out against the scar on his face. I sat down quietly, across from him, picking up my own bowl and beginning to eat, gingerly picking at the rice in my bowl with my chopsticks, pretending all the while that I wasn't staring at him from behind my bowl.

"So, you're feeling better?"

Shouto's voice came out of nowhere, almost shocking me into dropping the rice that was in my mouth. I put down my bowl, meeting his gaze across the table. He was looking at me with an expression that I didn't fully understand.

"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks again, for helping me." He raised an eyebrow incredulously; I sighed. "And I'm sorry for throwing up on you,"

"Apology accepted." he said quietly. It almost seemed as though he were laughing a little bit, but I assured myself that it wasn't possible. Todoroki Shouto would never be so casual and gentle with me, I was sure. "Do you always get overheated like that when you use your Quirk?"

"It's happened before." I said while I returned to my rice. "It used to happen a lot when I was younger. Now I guess it just happens if I use it too much."

"So that's why your costume is made of wicking material." Shouto murmured.

It was not a question; unlike Katsuki, Shouto paid close attention to his comrades. I opened my mouth, making to reply, but I was cut off by a very sudden, very loud wailing noise. The students filling the cafeteria froze, shock painting their faces, the blare of the siren overpowering the normal lunch rush babble before ceasing it altogether. Shouto and I exchanged glances over bowls of rice, and his expression flickered as he noticed that I looked quite scared; I knew from years of living on campus that the UA sirens were not prone to faults, and they didn't sound often.

"Security level three has been breached," the disembodied voice of the alarm declared. The students had begun to move, and I suddenly realized that a stampede had formed; the students were panicking, and I had to admit, I understood why. "Students, please promptly evacuate."

"Security level three?" Shouto asked, glancing around as students began sprinting out of the cafeteria. "Any idea what's going on?"

"Level three means that someone's infiltrated school grounds." I replied darkly, glowering up at the students passing me as one knocked into my shoulder rather roughly. "But I've never heard of this happening before. UA is known for its security measures,"

"I guess we should go, then." Shouto muttered.

Glancing at the door, it did not seem likely that we would get through it any time soon. With the cafeteria now considerably less packed, I grabbed Shouto's arm and dragged him easily across the room towards the windows on the opposite side. I threw one open, stretching my arm out of the window, flexing my fingers in time to the alarm; I felt my body temperature spike.

"Hey- what're you-"

Shouto stopped talking when a giant chunk of dirt stopped just outside of the window. I lowered my arm, clambering out of the window and onto the rock, being very careful not to get to close to the edge. I reached out my arm to Shouto, who was looking at me as though I were crazy.

"Come on, get on," I insisted, motioning with my other arm for him to follow me. His expression was incredulous as he put his hand in mine; I was overwhelmed by the sudden realization that what we were doing looked very lame.

Amidst the blare of the sirens the two of us drifted through the air towards the ground, the various floors of our high school zipping past us with a woosh! as we sped through the air. Shouto wore a bored expression as he crouched on the dirt behind me, watching apathetically as we descended to the sidewalk that lead to the front of the school.

I glanced over my shoulder as I let the pile of dirt fall lifelessly to the concrete on which we now stood. The red glare of police sirens could be seen from just beyond the front gates to the school, which I suddenly realized had been turned into a pile of rubble; I felt my heart skip, and fear churned in the pit of my stomach. What could have done that to the school gates?

"We should get back inside…" Shouto muttered.

The sirens had stopped, but I ignored his words, my eyes now fixated on a shadow several yards away from me. Something about it seemed unnatural, and its presence did nothing to improve the nervousness that I felt welling up inside of me. I turned to Shouto, who was watching me quizzically from his place on the sidewalk.

"Do you see that?" I asked quietly, pointing towards the corner of the building where I had seen it. Shouto raised an eyebrow, glanced over my shoulder, and then looked back at me.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." he said at last, putting his hands deep into his pockets and turning his back on me. "Let's get inside. You're starting to hallucinate."

I followed him reluctantly, trotting on his heels, though I kept my eyes trained on the space where I had seen the shadow. Something about it had seemed oddly familiar, though I couldn't quite place it. I thrust my worries into the back of my mind, accepting that there was very little that I could do about it at present. With the sirens turned off and the situation apparently 'under control', our day ended more quickly than I had anticipated. Izuku resigned his seat as class president over to Tenya, who accepted with a thank you and a bow. Izuku was teary eyed throughout the whole ordeal, as per usual.

The class chattered excitedly amongst themselves; I heard talk of Tenya's valiant performance during the emergency situation during lunch from Denki and Eijiro, who congratulated Tenya enthusiastically. My father was curled up in his sleeping bag, as usual, sipping on a pouch of applesauce and looking more like a pouting child than a professional hero.

As I watched my classmates chatter with one another, I felt that same anxious feeling make itself known again, twisting my stomach into knots. I reached into my pocket where I sat at my desk, my classmates' voices becoming background noise as I slowly pulled out a small slip of paper.

It was old, the worn paper soft and wrinkled in my fingers; a tattered newspaper clipping, which had been tucked neatly within the frame that held me and my father's precious photo of my mother. The slip of paper, which now had my full attention, read:

VILLAIN DA-TENSHI DEFEATED BY NO. 1 HERO ALL MIGHT! PRO HERO SHIGARAKI IZANAMI STILL M.I.A.

I narrowed my eyes as they raked over the text, the bold font still startlingly fresh despite the age of the clipping. I glanced up, my gaze now falling on my father, who was watching Tenya bow proudly to the class as he accepted his new position as class president. I narrowed my eyes, the anxiousness in my stomach transforming into a ball of nervousness, which stuck in my throat. Why had my father saved this clipping and left it behind that picture of my mother for all of these years?

He was hiding something.


Congee: a type of rice porridge eaten in many asian countries.

Hakkeshou: the Japanese term for Baghuazhang, which is a form of Chinese martial arts based in Taoist principles. Some common aspects are circle walking and a wide variety of strikes and evasive footwork. Practitioners are known for their ability to flow in battle. The term Baghuazhang literally means Eight Trigram Palm, and is the basis of the Hyuga clan's technique in Naruto as well as many fighting styles featured in Avatar: The Last Airbender.