"Be the hero everyone needs, whether it's a flood or any other disaster."


The time was seven o'clock in the evening.

My father and I had been training for what seemed like an eternity; he had seemed rather on edge since the incident with the level three security breach earlier that day. His dark eyes watched me carefully as I performed a fairly normal routine: lifting up rocks one by one, each one getting progressively larger as I continued down the line. My father had always been a firm believer in 'the basics'. Though I found it annoying, I could never bring myself to say that it his faith in foundational teachings was misplaced.

I breathed in and out, becoming extremely conscious of my breathing as I began to tackle the larger rocks. A loud breath out, a long one in; my body temperature felt fairly normal to me. As my father had always scolded me, if I could just become more conscious of my body and its link to my Quirk, I could one day learn to avoid the heat stress that had plagued me since my younger days.

"Good…" my father mused. He was standing across from me, arms folded. "Very good."

I dropped the final rock to the ground; it was a circle of concrete that my father had commissioned from Cementoss specifically for training, and was about as large as a king sized bed.

"What next?" I asked through a yawn as I stretched my arms out behind my back.

My father's response was to reach for his grey scarf, which he always wore wrapped around his neck. I was taken aback, casting a confused glance in his direction, lifting my arms apprehensively. He smiled, chuckling to himself softly as he noticed my nervousness.

"Don't worry," he muttered, smiling. "Just a little practice." I paused, glancing at the setting sun and considering the situation for a moment before speaking.

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Papa, if I'm able to strike you- just once- I'd like to ask you a question." I declared firmly. My father looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow.

"You can ask me a question any time, Daichi." was his bored reply. I pursed my lips.

"No, papa," I said, careful to keep my tone firm but calm. "I want to ask you a question, and I want you to give me a straight and truthful answer."

"What-?"

"Can you do that?" I interrupted him. My blue eyes sought his desperately, trying to gauge his mood, his thoughts, anything. "Do I have your word?"

My father took in a deep breath of air, his eyes never leaving mine. I could not tell if he was smiling at me with fondness or bitterness; I told myself that perhaps it was a little bit of both.

"As you like." he said at last. He brushed back his hair out of his eyes and put on his goggles. "I'll only use my Quirk if I think you're getting out of hand. Otherwise, I'll only be using hand-to-hand." I nodded, my body stiffening in anticipation. "You know what I'm expecting of you?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, my gaze hardening. "I'll be fighting using the Hakkeshou we've worked on."

"Very good." my father replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "You've got to land a hit, though." I pouted. "Those were your terms."

I straightened my back, my arms outstretched, staggered one above the other. I held my palms rigidly, one directly in front of my face, the other facing me at arm's length. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling my core temperature spike just a bit; I let out a breath of air, and I felt a calm sort of coolness settle in me.

"Get ready," my father said. I nodded. "Here I come!"

In a flash my father had sprinted to my right, the ends of his scarf held in either hand. I knew from watching him fight for years and from practicing with him that when he could not use his Quirk, his goal was to get close enough to wrap that scarf around me tightly; he would then use it either to incapacitate me, or to throw me into the ground. I took a deep breath, feeling him closing in on me.

I stepped lightly in a semicircle, my back and arms still rigid. With each step I took I picked up small flecks of earth, which followed in my wake while I walked. I picked up my pace, parrying around my father in larger and larger crescents, careful to keep my footwork light. Hakkeshou was delicate, controlled, yet flowed very well- I could not deny my father's conclusion that it was perfect to use with my Quirk.

"Too slow!"

My father's voice caught my attention. I glanced to my right, noticing that he had at last closed in on me. I smirked- he wasn't paying close enough attention. I lifted one hand, palm stiff, parrying back just a few steps while continuing to follow the pattern of a crescent. My father's scarf whipped towards me, making to grab my arm. The scarf was met with a shield of rock, which was now completely adept at following my movements; my father and I had realized long ago that the longer I held something under my control, the closer it came to being completely in time with my movements or desires.

My father attempted to strike again, which I blocked yet again with a soft movement from my other arm. He tried striking me several more times, both with his hands and his scarf, but each time I simply parried backwards slightly in a crescent, moved my arms very carefully, and his strike was met with a hard shell of sand.

He spun, swivelling on his heel quickly. Before I could blink he was no longer in front of me, but was instead at my side. I let out a long breath, reminding myself to keep my mind clear and to do as my father had said: focus on what he had taught me. I ducked low, dodging one end of his scarf; my knees cracked slightly as I squatted down as low as I could go, my arms now outstretched on either side of me with my palms facing upward.

I twitched my fingers, several rocks following my motion. They rose off the ground one by one, following each other in an arch before catching onto my father's scarf. A low grunt escaped his throat as they pulled him away from me, and I used the brief break in his concentration to turn on my tiptoes and rise back up again, returning to my original stance.

"I'm going to come at you for real now, papa." I said sternly. My father just chuckled, wiping a smudge of dirt off of his cheek. "Sorry if you're sore tomorrow."

"Bring it on, kiddo."

I swiveled in place, lifting up one foot at the same time, bringing it around from behind me in a circular motion. The pad of my bare foot scraped against the dirt, the earth beneath me following my motion and carrying it out in front of me. My father dodged the raised line of dirt headed for him, parrying to his right, which I had anticipated; with a careful flick of my wrist a large pillar of earth sprang up on his side. He grunted- louder this time- as he fell into it, hitting his head on it rather roughly.

He came at me quickly, then, pushing against the barrier of dirt I had built to increase his own momentum. I spun, my arms flowing and collecting loose pebbles and sand as I twirled across the ground. My father aimed a deliberate punch to my gut; I blocked him with a rock covered arm, pushing him away and twisting my body at the same time, harnessing the energy I had used to block his blow to push me away from his front and to his side.

I crouched low, bringing my foot around in front of me to swipe at his feet. My father jumped up, attempting to dodge my move to trip him- too bad for him, I had meant for him to dodge it. With a quick flick of my wrist, which was now free of the rocks that I had been previously using for armor, I brought a large sphere of dirt crashing into his stomach, sending him careening backwards.

"You left yourself open, papa," I remarked with a smirk, feeling more confident now.

I dropped my arm and spun again, and as I turned back around to face my father I brought out my other hand, fingers stiff and outstretched. Four long cylinders of rock lept out of the ground, following the direction in which my fingers were pointing: straight at Eraserhead.

My father dodged the first quickly, then the second; by the third he had slowed down ever so slightly, and with a drag of my toe in the sand- maintaining my circular pattern- I brought forth a line of raised dirt, which caught his feet. My father stumbled, the tip of his foot caught in the earth beneath him. I flicked my fingers, bringing the fourth and last cylinder of earth crashing straight into him.

He went flying, catching several feet of air before diving back towards the earth. I twisted my body, feet dancing in circles, my hands moving similarly; the chunk of cement I had be lifting earlier came to meet him, catching him in the back and sending him soaring back in my direction. I lifted my arms, pulling my hands in towards my chest and crouching down ever so slightly; the platter of cement slid gracefully to the ground as it mimicked my body's movements.

I straightened up, dropping my hands to my side, my eyes meeting my father's. He was lying on his back on top of the cement, which had come to a rest at my feet. I lifted a single foot, placing it gently on his chest.

"Got you."

My father laughed, pushing my foot off of his chest. He stood, dusting off the footprint my bare foot had left on his chest and readjusting his scarf around his neck. His dark eyes regarded me fondly as he rumpled his hair back into its 'casual' look, and he smiled.

"You got me." he said at last, reiterating my words. He patted me on the head, ruffling my hair. "I'm surprised- you actually listened to me, for once."

"Ha, ha," I replied huffily, turning my nose up at him. "Don't be a sore loser, papa."

"Yes, yes." he said airily, waving his hand lightly. "You got a hit on me, so I'll answer your question." I gave him a stern glare. "Straight and truthful- got it."

I paused, then, mulling over my next move very carefully. There were many things that I wanted to ask my father: what was it about my Quirk that made him so suspicious? Who had he been talking to Recovery Girl about? Why had he been hiding a very old newspaper clipping behind my mother's picture? After several minutes of silence, I took a deep breath, and spoke up.

"I'd like for you to tell me about my mother."

My father blinked, his expression confused. He crouched down, resting his arms across his knees. He stared up at me from that position, his gaze thoughtful, but still just as guarded as always. I felt my heart sink; I knew that he was not going to keep his promise. Aizawa Shouta was not going to be completely truthful.

"What would you like to know about her?" he whispered slowly from his position in front of me. I glanced down, my blue eyes slightly watery. My father pursed his lips. "Just ask. I'll do my best to answer you."

"What was she like?" I said at last, my words coming out breathless, choking. I felt like an idiot. "What did people think about her? What did you think about her?"

"Daichi-"

"What did she do in life? What did she like? What didn't she like?" I barreled on, the thousands of questions I had kept bottled up inside of me at last spilling over, forcing their way past my lips. "Was she a hero, like you? Was she a good one? What-"

"Hey." My father's firm tone broke my wordy rampage, and I choked to a halt. I blinked, my eyes still feeling wet; my cheeks felt wet, too. "Let's take it one thing at a time… Your first question: what was she like?" I nodded. My father smiled.

"Your mother was one of the most amazing people I have ever met." he began slowly. His tone was strange, one that I had not heard before from him; it sounded a little watery. "We met doing hero work, naturally. She was ten years my senior-"

"Ten years?!" I exclaimed, cutting into his answer. He frowned and put a hand on top of my head roughly.

"I thought you wanted a straight and honest answer?" he said curtly.

"I did! I do!" I squeaked. "I just wasn't expecting-"

"Age is just a number."

"I know, but-"

"But what?"

"Mom… Mom was…" I muttered, casting my eyes downward. "Mom was a total cougar."

This caused my father to burst into laughter, a smile stretching across his face. I did not see such smiles often from him, and I wondered vaguely if it hurt his face to smile so widely.

"That may be true," he said, still laughing. "I was young- I hadn't been a hero for that long. But we worked well together… You might say I was infatuated with her." I flushed crimson, partly from his words, partly from the expression on his face. "The whole relationship was rushed and sort of half-assed when I look back on it, now. But the aftermath of it all, I think, was well worth it." he said, his black eyes now falling on me again; he had been staring at the sky.

"So mom was a hero, too?" I breathed, a smile tugging at my lips as I realized my father was gazing at me with the kindest expression that I had ever seen.

"Yes." he said gruffly. His voice sounded like it was cracking. "Your mother's talents lent themselves to rescue and recovery- a lot like Mr. Thirteen here at UA."

"Did she have a Quirk like Mr. Thirteen's?"

"No, your mother's Quirk was a bit of a mystery for a long time." my father said, standing back up again. He held out a hand to me. "Walk-and-talk." he clarified, shaking his hand slightly.

It felt rather childish, holding his hand at my age, but he didn't seem to mind it at all, so I pushed the embarrassment to the back of my mind.

"A mystery?" I repeated, urging for him to continue. He nodded.

"Your mother's speciality was healing- that's why she often worked in the rescue and recovery area." he explained. The sand crunched beneath our feet as we walked. "Her hero alias was Heaven's Gate. For a long time we assumed that it was a power similar to Recovery Girl's, but we discovered later on that it was very unique."

"How's that?"

"Recovery Girl's Quirk works by stimulating the body's natural healing process to heal you- that's why you're always so tired after." he said as we passed the front gate to UA. It had been repaired since the damage earlier that day. "Your mother's Quirk worked… Well, it'll take to long to really explain, so I'll just say this: in the hero world her Quirk was often referred to as the What If Quirk."

"What if?" I asked, blinking up at him quizzically. He nodded.

"Essentially, it's a warp Quirk," he explained. "Definitely not a warp Quirk like most people are familiar with, though. Most of us chalked it up to being a mutation."

"I don't get it." I stated blandly, my face contorted as I attempted to piece together what he had said to me. "Why's it called that? The What If Quirk..."

"The stipulations you set was for one question only." my father said, looking down at me.

We had stopped walking, and I suddenly realized that we were back at our house. I frowned, releasing my father's hand and crossing my arms over my chest. He chuckled, searching in his pockets for the keys to the front door; I held out my own set, knowing he would never find his own even if it was to save his own skin.

"I'll give you these if you answer one more question." I taunted, jangling the keys in front of him in a boasting manner. My father smirked, hands crossed over his chest.

"If you play that way, you'll never get inside, either." I frowned deeply. I hated it when he was right.

"Fine."


It was twelve fifty in the afternoon.

The weather was hot, and so my mood was already being drastically affected by my own bodily discomfort; it felt as though I were swimming in a vat of my own sweat. Quite frankly, I was becoming more and more surprised that my very essence had not devolved into being only sweat by that point. I sat in my seat, grumbling to myself, my shirt unbuttoned to what was probably an inappropriate point.

"Daichi-chan?" Ochaco whispered from the desk beside me. She and Izuku were looking at me worriedly while I fanned myself with a notebook. Tenya looked mildly disgusted, but at that point, you couldn't have paid me to care. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I don't do well in the heat," I sighed heavily. My breath had a slight cooling effect as it exited my mouth, so I did it a few more times. Tenya looked even more annoyed.

"Daichi-kun, none of us are loving the weather, but, please," Tenya began haughtily, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Try and behave a little more appropriately."

The glower I shot him was the most powerful look of anger that I could conjure in that moment. My face twitched with the effort, and I heard my teeth grit together in the back of my mouth. Tenya looked wholly affronted, though Ochaco's giggle from my side told me I looked more goofy than threatening.

"I. Don't. Do. Heat." I bit back through clenched teeth. I felt sweat drip down my back as well as down the front of my chest; this had to be the grossest I had ever felt.

"Alright, alright." Tenya assured me, finally letting me have my peace and turning to face the front.

I put my head on my desk, my cheek pressing against the cool desktop. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I felt my body begin to cool down. The classrooms, unlike the halls and cafeteria, were air conditioned, though it was taking my body much too long to adjust to the change in temperature.

"Alright," My father's voice cut through the chatter of my classmates, who settled down immediately. They had learned quickly not to annoy my father too much. "For the foundational skill of heroics we'll study today, it was decided that you'll be supervised by a three-man team, comprised of myself, All Might, and someone else."

"Sensei!" yelled Hanta from the middle of the room. "What'll we be doing?"

"I was getting to that."

"He was getting to that."

My father and I spoke in unison, the two of us making and breaking eye contact in a flash once we realized what had happened. Izuku and Ochaco exchanged glances, Ochaco subduing a giggle.

"Weird." Katsuki growled bluntly.

"Quiet, you." my father replied in a huff. "Anyways… Today's hero foundation will be the trial of rescue." My father brandished a red and yellow sign in his fingers, which read 'RESCUE', though he did so in a much less flashy manner than All Might had for our trial of battle.

"The trial of rescue?" Denki muttered in front of us. He shot Mina a sassy look. "Sounds a bit difficult this time around."

"Totally!" Mina replied excitedly. Denki looked a little put out that she hadn't reciprocated his flirting.

"C'mon, dumbass, that's what a hero's whole job is!" Eijiro butted in. "I'm chomping at the bit!"

"If it's a flood then that environment's my speciality," Tsuyu croaked from a few desks up. I let out a moan.

"I hope to Kami it's a flood!" I exclaimed dramatically as I flopped around on my desk. Tenya rolled his eyes while Ochaco continued her trend of giggling at me. "Then maybe I can finally cool the hell off!"

"Watch your language." my father said bluntly from the front of the class. I frowned.

"Didn't Kirishima just call Kaminari and dumbass?" I replied sourly. "Where's their scolding?"

"C'mon, Daichi, don't be a tattle tale!" Eijiro called back to me. My frown deepened.

"All of you, don't get ahead of yourselves." my father continued, ignoring my and Eijiro's brief tiff.

"As I was saying, this time, it's entirely up to each of you whether or not you wear your costume. Some of your costumes probably aren't adapted to the task at hand, after all." As he spoke the drawers contained in the far wall opened, revealing our training gear. "The training area is fairly far away, so we'll go there by bus. That's all, go get prepared."


Ochaco and I walked side by side, Izuku bringing up the rear of our little group. Ochaco was humming to herself excitedly, almost skipping with enthusiasm. I puttered along next to her, considerably less enthused, feeling mildly self conscious after having to don my hero costume for a second time.

"How come you're in your gym clothes, Deku?" Ochaco asked nonchalantly. Izuku flushed, sputtering in his haste to answer her.

"Well, they got really tattered in the battle trials." he explained. Up ahead of us I noticed Katsuki grow noticeably stiff with awkwardness, and perhaps a touch of annoyance. "The repairs are already being handled by the support company- I'm just waiting!"

"So has Deku been reappropriated now?" I asked as we approached the bus that was to take us to the training grounds. "Wasn't that Katsuki's mean nickname for you?"

"I kinda like it!" Ochaco chortled. "It's kinda cute!" Izuku's face turned three shades of red darker.

"Why did he call you that, anyways?" I asked, my eyes fixed on Katsuki's back. "When I asked him he said it was because you were a 'Quirkless loser'," I twitched my fingers in the air beside my head to make air quotations as I spoke. "But you clearly have one. What's up?"

Izuku looked obviously nervous; he began messing with the mask that he wore around his neck. He was still blushing, a brilliant crimson, avoiding eye contact with both Ochaco and myself. He gave me no answer, save for some nonsensical mutterings under his breath. I made to restate my question, but was cut off my Tenya's commanding voice over the crowd of students ahead of us.

"In order to get everyone seated smoothly on the bus, please divide into two lines according to your numbers!"

I arched an eyebrow as Izuku muttered something that sounded like 'full throttle' to Ochaco.

"Tenya!" I shouted as he began to direct people into their respective lines. He paused, looking me dead in the eyes. "Tenya, it's not that kind of bus." I said, gesturing towards the vehicle. "It's a waste of time to put them all in lines." Tenya blushed slightly, looking rather embarrassed.

"Thank you, vice president Daichi!" he said as he began ushering people onto the bus. "I appreciate your candidness!"

"Please, don't call me that…" I mumbled.

Ochaco and I took seats side by side, across from Izuku, Tenya, and Tsuyu. Katsuki skulked towards the back of the bus, appearing to be extremely grumpy. I settled into my seat, deciding to get comfortable for the ride; a sudden motion on my other side alerted me that another person had sat down beside me.

"Hello again, iinchou*."

An eep! of surprise escaped my lips in spite of all of my efforts. My eyes had come to rest on Shouto, who had taken the empty seat beside of me. I felt my chest tighten in the strangest way; it was a mixture of a warmth, a flutter, and difficult breathing. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw my father get onto the bus, his eyes falling on us briefly before sitting down. He did not look thrilled.

"Don't call me that!" I blurted. I knew I sounded startled, which only served to embarrass me further; I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Why?" he asked nonchalantly. "I voted for you, so I may as well call you that." I arched an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Why the hell would you go and do that?" I asked through pursed lips. Shouto shrugged, seeming completely nonplussed.

"Felt right, I guess." he replied easily. "You're strong and smart…" Now my whole body felt hot, and I mentally yelled at myself inside of my head- could I act like any more of an idiot? "... and you know how UA works, Aizawa Daichi." Shouto whispered my name in my ear, and I realized with a jolt just how close he was to me.

"Hey, Midoriya," Tsuyu's voice broke me out of my trance; I realized to my horror that Shouto and I were nose-to-nose while Ashido Mina stared at us snidely from the other side of the bus. "I always say exactly what's on my mind."

"A-ah!" Izuku exclaimed as I pushed myself away from Shouto, giving him a glare that I was sure did not convey my frustration with him. "Hey Asui!"

"Call me Tsuyu." she demanded quickly before continuing. "Your Quirk reminds me of All Might's." That same nervous look- the very same he had worn when I had questioned him about Katsuki's nickname for him- returned to Izuku's face once again as he stammered out his reply.

"I-i-is that so?" he laughed. I raised an eyebrow incredulously, exchanging a glance with Ochaco; he looked strangely guilty of something. "But mine isn't like-"

"Wait up, Asui, All Might never gets hurt by his Quirk!" Eijiro chimed in from his place next to Tsuyu. "That's where the likeness ends!" Tsuyu nodded thoughtfully in agreement, giving Izuku the up-and-down before settle back into her seat. "I'm kinda jealous of that kind of simple enhancer-type Quirk, though! There's a lot you can do with one, and flashily, too!" Eijiro continued. Izuku listened dutifully from his place down the row from him; I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. "My hardening power isn't bad for punch-ups, but I hate that it's just not that flashy."

"Well I think it's an awesome Quirk! Definitely a Quirk that'll be of great use to a pro!" Izuku remarked excitedly. Eijiro was hardening and un-hardening his skin in his seat, admiring his Quirk along with Izuku.

"Pros huh~?" Mina sang from her seat. I opened my eyes, admiring her hero costume quite briefly; she looked like an alien princess from a science fiction movie. "But you know, heroics has a lot about it that's more like a popularity contest, too, right?"

"That's one of heroics' biggest bummers." I murmured, closing my eyes again. "That's the part of it that I kind of hate."

"My navel laser is both flashy and strong enough for the pro level." Aoyama Yuga bragged, ignoring my earlier comment.

"I agree with you." Shouto muttered from beside me as Mina teased Yuga about his stomach falling out. "My old man plays right into that game… It makes me sick."

Shouto's words came out bitter- angry, even. I cracked open my eyelids, peaking next to me to gauge his mood. His face was stony, his mouth set in a hard line as he glared at the floor of the bus. I wondered what his father was like very briefly; I, like Shouto, was also the child of a professional hero, though I had never gotten the feeling that my father cared much at all for publicity or popularity. He was in it for pure love of the game. I shifted my eyes, resting on my father's back. Despite his surliness, he was a really good hearted man.

"If we're talking the double whammy of flashy and strong, you can't not mention Bakugo and Todoroki!" Denki chimed in. I chuckled.

"If it's a popularity contest then Katsuki will definitely lose." I said snarkily. Despite my eyes being closed once again, I could picture the exact face that Katsuki was making. "He's got a foul mouth and a terrible temper, not to mention he's a chronic narcissist."

"Shut up you bitch! I'll be popular too!" he cried out, much too loudly for the small bus we were in. I chuckled darkly.

"See what I mean?"

"It's only been a brief while since our socialization has commenced and yet already we have been made apodictically cognizant of your personality, redolent as it is of a turd getting steamed in a sewer."

Denki's soliloquy made me burst into raucous laughter. I doubled over in my seat almost instantly, clutching my stomach to keep my ribs from hurting so badly. Shouto even let out a small laugh, though I was likely the only one who was close enough to hear it.

"Huh? What the hell kinda vocabulary is that?" Katsuki roared, enraged. Denki simply sneered, throwing his arms behind his head and leaning back in his seat. "I'll fuckin' kill you!"

On my other side, Ochaco had joined me in a chorus of uncontrollable laughter. The two of us stayed that way for some time, though I heard Yuga comment meekly on the vulgarity of the conversation.

"Damn, Katsuki," I said through mouthfuls of laughter. "You're one foul-mouthed dude!"

"You're one to talk, fuckin' moron! Like you'll be fuckin' popular with a bitchass Quirk like that!"

"Wasn't it you who went through all that trouble to come declare war on me while I was in the infirmary?" I replied, a wide sneer spreading across my face. Katsuki blanched as our classmates turned to look at him, some astonished, others looking snide. "If my Quirk's not all that then why'd you even bother?"

"Shut up you stupid-"

"Whoa, Bakugo, that's a heavy accusation!" Denki cried, cutting him off. He was also laughing, now.

"How embarrassing." said Yuga, putting a hand over his mouth as he joined the den of laughter that had erupted within the bus.

"We're almost there, so settle down."

My father's voice cut through the loud laughter that had completely consumed me and my classmates. We sobered up almost immediately, replying rigidly with a 'yes sir!' as our bus began to approach the training facility where we would be carrying out our rescue trial.

After filing off of the bus our group entered the building, which was really more like an enormous glass dome. It was an impressive feat of architecture, to be sure; I had always admired it as a young girl growing up on the UA campus. My father had even brought me here a few times in my earlier years to train. A collective sigh of amazement escaped my classmates as we entered the facility- their eyes were wide, glittering with fascination as they took in the view.

"Amazing!" exclaimed Ochaco from next to me. "Is this USJ* or something?!"

I laughed, patting her on the back before trotting to the top of the stairs, which lead down to the main part of the training facility. I breathed in deeply, feeling somewhat nostalgic. My father smiled at me discreetly from his place on the other side of the top of the stairs. Next to him, I realized we had been joined by none other than Thirteen (I had grown up calling him Mr. Thirteen); he looked rather squat next to my father, and his costume I had always thought made him appear like an adorable cartoon insect from outer space. I wondered, very briefly, if my mother had ever worked with Mr. Thirteen.

"Flood wrecks, landslides, fires... etcetera, etcetera." Mr. Thirteen said proudly, gesturing his hand towards the various arenas contained within the glass dome. "This is a practical training area I created to simulate all kinds of accidents and disasters, and its name is The Ultimate Space for Jams!"

"See, it really is the USJ, Ochaco," I hissed back at her, a smile crossing my face. She smiled back at me; I had a feeling I was, at last, getting the hang of smiling.

"It's Space Hero Thirteen!" Izuku exclaimed.

He and Ochaco exchanged excited smiles as Ochaco whispered that she had always loved Thirteen as a professional hero. My father wore a puzzled expression, glancing around the inside of the USJ before turning back towards Mr. Thirteen.

"Hey, Thirteen," he muttered as the rest of my classmates chattered amongst themselves, still admiring the USJ. "Where's All Might?"

"From what I was told-" Mr. Thirteen began, but paused when he noticed my eavesdropping.

Mr. Thirteen lowered his voice to barely a whisper, which I could no longer hear. My father nodded knowingly, though he looked slightly annoyed. The two broke apart a few minutes later, my father turning to face the class with Mr. Thirteen.

"Before we begin, just one thing…" Mr. Thirteen said, holding up a finger. "Or two... Or three... Or four…" He raised another finger each time he spoke, and I felt confused stares from my classmates. "I'm certain that you're all quite aware, but my Quirk is called 'Black Hole'. No matter what material may get sucked into my vortex, I'm afraid it will turn into dust."

"Now there's a Quirk that's perfect for rescuing people from a natural disaster!" exclaimed Izuku, an enthusiastic nod from Ochaco accompanying his outburst.

"Yes…" Mr. Thirteen replied, his tone now very serious. "It is, however, a power that could also easily be used to kill people. And in that way, it's no different from the Quirks of everyone here."

The class had gone silent. Izuku and Ochaco were staring at Mr. Thirteen emphatically, hanging on his every word. I had to admit, that in all my years of knowing Mr. Thirteen, I had always been awe struck by his ability to command a room with his passionate words; he, like my father, was a person who was in the game of heroics not for popularity, but purely for the good of others.

"Naturally, in this society of superhumans, Quirks are strictly regulated and the requirements for their lawful use enforced. We can tell at a glance that that is the makeup of our world. That being said, please don't forget that each of you possesses a Quirk that can go awry." I looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling self conscious.

"One wrong step is all it takes to be able to kill others accidentally. During Eraserhead's physical strength test, you learned of your respective power's true potential, and during All Might's trial of battle, I think you took away a true sense of the danger of brandishing those powers against one another."

I looked back up, feeling a jolt run through my body as I realized that Mr. Thirteen was looking at me very pointedly. I pursed my lips, feeling rather ashamed; was he disappointed in me?

"This lesson will serve as a fresh start! Let's get about to studying how to wield our Quirks for the sake of human life! Your Quirks emphatically do not exist to hurt others! Please leave this exercise having fully understood that your Quirks exist to help people!"

As Mr. Thirteen finished his speech he bowed very low, thanking us for having listened with such patience. I smiled, although I still felt slightly uncomfortable; if anything, I knew that Mr. Thirteen wanted the best for me, and did not want to see me make a misstep that would hurt myself, or others. I smiled at my father, though he wasn't paying me any attention, as Izuku and Ochaco congratulated Mr. Thirteen for his 'very cool' speech. My father cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the class.

"Now, first thing's first…" he muttered.

As he spoke, I suddenly felt something stir within the USJ. I peeked to my left, down the stairs, my eyes following the steps until they made it to the fountain that took up the space in the very center of Mr. Thirteen's facility. My eyes widened; a small sliver of blackness had appeared in front of it. I knew immediately that it did not belong there.

"Sensei." I said quickly, cutting my father off mid-sentence. He froze. "Aizawa-sensei, something's wrong."

My father turned, following my eyes towards the fountain. The blackness had grown bigger, and I suddenly felt very queasy; a hand was making its way out of the blackness. I felt sicker, still- it was three hands, though I was having difficulty figuring out why there was a hand on this person's face.

"Everyone, huddle together, immediately!"

My father's shout jolted everyone out of their excited stupor, drawing their attention to the space that my father and I were staring at. Confused expressions clouded most of their features, and I felt them glance at each other for answers.

"What is that?" Eijiro said from behind my father. He had put his hand over his eyes, and was squinting towards the middle of the USJ. "Is this a simulation like the entrance exam?"

I looked to my father, and my heart sank when I noticed that he had pulled back his hair and pulled on his goggles. He was going to fight.

"Thirteen, protect the students!" he commanded, yanking on his scarf roughly. He moved closer to me, reaching out a hand and pushing me away from the edge of the stairs. "None of you move! Those are villains!"

I watched in wide-eyed horror as an enormous amount of villains emerged from the blackness, which had increased greatly in size. The person at the front, a young man probably several years older than us, was hunched over in a lazy manner. His purplish-grey hair was framing his face, which was covered with a fake hand. The queasiness in my stomach increased as I realized that we were about to encounter the very people that the heroes of the professional world did battle with. I glanced over my shoulder at the surprised, confused, and scared expressions of my classmates: we were not ready for this.

"Eraserhead and Thirteen…" A face had emerged from the blackness, and I realized suddenly that it was an individual with a warp Quirk; I had never encountered one before. "According to the teachers' curriculum we procured yesterday, All Might was supposed to be here, and yet…"

"I knew it…" my father muttered from in front of me. "So yesterday's disturbance was the doing of you louts…"

"Where is he…?" It was the hand-man who had spoken. I watched him carefully, realizing that he must be the leader of this ragtag band of villains. His voice was scratchy- very warped, tired sounding, as though he had been sick with a cold for his whole life. It sent shivers down my spine like nails down a chalkboard. "We went through all this trouble and rustled up so many of us to bring along. You can't tell me All Might... The symbol of peace... Isn't here…"

My body tensed as my father shifted, preparing to fight.

"I wonder if he'll show up if we kill the kids…?"

That was the last straw for my father. In a second he was gone, leaping down the stairs, scarf gripped tightly in both fists. My hand, which I had been gripping the back of his shirt with very tightly, felt empty and abandoned. I felt something sting my eyes, and I realized that I was on the verge of tears- I had never seen my father fight, not for real… Not when I didn't know if he was going to make it.

That was the moment that I realized that what we were about to face was something that could kill us. I watched my father land on his feet at the foot of the stairs, and I realized that this could end with one of us six feet under.


*iinchou: japanese term for class rep.

*USJ: Universal Studios Japan.

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