Izuku adjusted his grip on the strap of his backpack, feeling its weight press against his shoulder as he navigated the winding paths of campus.

The early autumn breeze carried a crispness that made the leafless branches rustle as students hurried past, some clutching coffee cups while others chatted animatedly.

The air buzzed with energy, the kind that came with the start of a new semester - the promise of fresh challenges, the anxiety of stepping into something unkonwn.

Ahead, the glass-paneled facade of the Northwood Lecture Hall reflected the morning sunlight, its sleek, modern design a stark contrast to the ivy-covered brick buildings surrounding it. Izuku double-checked the room number on his schedule before stepping inside, his breath catching for a brief moment. The lecture hall was vast, arranged in a semicircle with tiered seating that stretched high up the walls. Rows of sleek, wooden desks curved around a central podium, and massive digital screens displayed the course title in crisp white letters against a blue background:

EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY AND DEVELOPMENT

Professor Alan Greaves

Students were already settling in - some scribbling on tablets, others tapping away on laptops, and a few engaging in quiet conversations. The air carried a faint scent of coffee and paper, mingled with the hum of chatter and the soft clack of computer keys. Izuku hesitated for just a second before choosing a seat near the middle, close enough to stay engaged but not so close that he stood out.

As he set his notebook down, his fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the paper. This was nothing like U.A., where the atmosphere had been charged with the intensity of hero training, where every lesson felt like preparation for life-or-death situations. Here, the weight of responsibility was different. Izuku was no longer a student training to fight villains - he was training to guide, to teach, to understand.

At exactly 9:03 a.m., the room fell silent as a tall man in the center of the room tapped his microphone.

Professor Alan Greaves moved with a quiet authority, his steps measured as he approached the podium. His sharp black eyes swept across the room, taking in each student with an expression that was neither severe nor overly friendly - just observant. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, and his tailored navy blazer gave him the air of someone who had spent years both in academia and out in the world.

He clasped his hands together once, the loud clap reverberating through the hall.

"Good morning," he said, his deep voice effortlessly cutting through the silence. "Welcome to Educational Psychology and Development." A ripple of movement passed through the students as they straightened in their seats, presentations downloading, notes tabs opening, pens poised. "This course will challenge you," Professor Greaves continued, pacing slowly in front of the podium. "It will require you to think beyond textbooks, beyond theories. Because teaching is not about dictating information - it's about understanding. Understanding how students think, how they grow, how they struggle, and most importantly - how they overcome."

He stopped, letting his words settle before his gaze swept the room again.

"Let me ask you something," he declared, crossing his arms. "Imagine you have a student in your class. Bright, but restless. They interrupt, they lose focus, their energy seems boundless, but unfocused. How do you handle them?"

For a moment, nothing but deafening silence. Pens stopped scratching. Fingers stopped typing. Then a rustle as hands hesitantly went up.

Professor Greaves pointed to a blonde-haired girl in the front row. "Go ahead."

She cleared her throat. "I'd enforce stricter rules. If they disrupt class, it's not fair to the other students who are trying to learn."

"A common approach," Professor Greaves acknowledged. "Structure is important. But too much rigidity can backfire. Anyone else?"

A bespectacled young man beside Izuku adjusted his glasses. "Maybe they need to be tested for ADHD or another condition. If that's the case, they might need accommodations."

Professor Greaves nodded. "A valid consideration." His gaze landed on Izuku. "And you?"

Izuku sat up a little straighter, his mind already racing. "I would observe them first," he answered carefully, suppressing his Japanese accent, choosing his words as his fingers curled slightly against the notebook page. "Try to figure out when they lose focus the most. If it's during long lectures, maybe breaking lessons into smaller parts could help. Or using more hands-on activities to keep them engaged. And if they're struggling socially, maybe pairing them with a buddy for structured discussions could help them focus."

A pause. Then, to Izuku's surprise, Professor Greaves smiled faintly.

"A well-rounded answer," he remarked. "You considered observation, engagement, and social intervention. That's the kind of thinking I expect in this class."

Izuku felt warmth creep up his neck, but he quickly jotted down notes, his mind buzzing.

As the class moved forward, Professor Greaves introduced core concepts: Piaget's stages of cognitive development, Vygotsky's zone of proximal development, and scaffolding techniques. The digital screens shifted with each topic, displaying diagrams and aste studies.

Then came the group activity.

"You'll be working in small teams," Professor Greaves announced. "Each group will analyze a case study and determine the best approach for supporting the student described. Debate, challenge each other, and come up with real solutions."

A soft ping echoed from the screens as group assignments appeared. Izuku's eyes scanned the names:

- Jace Lawson

- Renée Caldwell

He glanced around until he spotted Jace - a tall, athletic white guy with messy red hair and prominent icy blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket over his university hoodie. Jace caught his eye and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Izuku, right?" he greeted, drumming his fingers against the desk. "Dude, your answer earlier? Smart stuff."

"Thanks," Izuku said, offering a meek smile.

Their third teammate, Renée, took the seat across from them. She was black, with jet-black hair tied into numerous braids and piercing brown eyes. Without wasting a second, she tapped her tablet screen and pulled up the case study. "Alright. Let's get to work." Clear-cut, right-down-to-business greeting. That was fine.

The scenario described a nine-year-old student named Alex, who excelled in science and math but struggled with reading comprehension. He often avoided reading assignments, became visibly frustrated when asked to read aloud, and showed signs of discouragement.

Izuku scanned the text, his mind immediately forming connections. "It could be dyslexia," he reasoned, glancing at the others. "Or maybe something else. We shouldn't assume too quickly."

Jace gave him an odd look before affirming. Izuku did not have time to puzzle out what that expression meant. "Yeah, plus, if he's frustrated, that means he wants to do well but something's getting in the way."

Renée rested her chin on her hand. Whether she had noticed the bemusement, she did not reveal. "We need to give him alternative ways to process text. Audiobooks, color-coded word breakdowns, maybe even speech-to-text software."

Izuku's eyes lit up. "And to help with his confidence, we could ease him into reading aloud - maybe let him practice with a partner first before reading to the class."

They bounced ideas off each other, refining their approach. By the time they presented their findings, their plan included multisensory learning techniques, confidence-building strategies, and one-on-one mentorship. When they finished presenting, Professor Greaves studied them for a moment before giving a slow nod.

"An excellent approach. You considered not just the academic struggles but the emotional impact as well. Well done."

Professor Greaves did not seem like the type of man to hand out praises like candy. No. His appreciations were thoughtful. Only granted when the efforts matched his expectations. So for Izuku to receive public praise twice in a two-hour lecture from such a person … well, he would have been lying if he said that it did not make him feel confident.

As class wrapped up, students gathered their things, but Izuku sat for a moment longer, letting the weight of the lesson settle over him. This was not about fighting villains. It was not about being a hero in the way he had always imagined.

But somehow, it still felt just as important.

The air smelled of snow. Not the frigid scent of a storm, but the quiet coolness of an evening snowfall that had come and gone, leaving the pavement outside frosty and glistening under the glow of streetlights. Beyond the tall windows, the academy was still, the usual hum of life replaced by the occasional whisper of wind through the trees. In the distance, the faint chime of a bicycle bell rang out - a lone student making their way home through the night.

Inside the practice room, the only light came from the small lamp perched beside the piano. Its glow pooled onto the keys, a soft halo of gold against the deep mahogany finish. The rest of the room was swallowed in shadow, as if the world had shrunk to just this moment, just this space.

Kamiko sat at the piano, her fingers hovering above the keys, hesitant. She was tired. Not in the way that sleep could fix, but the kind of exhaustion that settled in the bones - the weight of long hours, of relentless practice, of chasing perfection that always seemed just out of reach.

The door clicked open, quiet but deliberate.

"You should be resting. In fact, you should be at home."

Abe-sensei's voice was low, softer than usual, as though she did not wish to disturb the silence. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her carefully. Her presence was calm and unhurried.

Kamiko straightened slightly but did not turn. "I couldn't sleep."

Abe-sensei made a small sound - more acknowledgment than disapproval - and crossed the room. She placed a teacup on the windowsill, the faint click of ceramic within signaling that the cup was full. Then, she took her usual seat beside her, folding her hands in her lap.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The night pressed in around them, thick and velvety.

Finally, Abe-sensei exhaled. "Play."

Kamiko hesitated, then lowered her hands to the keys. She chose something without thinking, something that lived in her fingertips rather than her mind. "Always With Me." Soft, searching, the melody curling through the air like an extension of her.

The notes floated gently, filling the space between them. But there was a hesitation in her playing, a restraint she could not shake. A pause too brief, a phrase too measured.

Abe-sensei let her finish before speaking. "Again."

Kamiko swallowed. "It's not right?"

She shook her head, her multicolored chocolate-sable eyes reflecting the lamp's dim glow. "It is … how should I put it? Careful."

Kamiko looked down at her hands. Careful. Careful with her notes. Careful with her tempo. Careful with her emotions, so they did not spill over and unravel the order she had worked so hard to build since Izuku went to the States.

Her teacher reached for the teacup, faint tendrils of steam curling upward. She took a long sip and asked, "Do you know what this song is about?"

Kamiko traced a fingertip over one of the black keys, watching its reflection in the polished wood. "It's about remembering. About things that don't disappear, even if we can't see them anymore."

She took another sip, considering her student's words. "Yes. It is about holding onto something, even when time carries it away. And yet, you play it as though you are afraid to let go." Kamiko let the words settle over her. Abe-sensei put her cup down and met her gaze. "Once more. But this time, do not play as a student. Play as someone who cannot sleep."

Kamiko exhaled, placed her fingers back on the keys, and began again.

This time, she let the melody breathe. She did not count so rigidly, did not hold back the notes as if they might slip through her fingers. The music curled through the air, tender and yearning, the sound of longing wrapped in warmth.

Abe-sensei closed her eyes.

Outside, the wind stirred the snowflakes. Somewhere, a window was closed with a soft click. The tea cooled beside them, untouched. And in the quiet of the night, Kamiko played - not for control, not for its semblance, but simply because she could not sleep.

The dining hall was bustling, a cacophony of voices, clinking utensils, and the rhythmic hum of the food stations serving up fresh dishes. The scent of sizzling meat, simmering soups, and freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of fruit from the salad bar. Though Izuku had his own place off campus, his student ID granted him access to the cafeteria, and today, he felt like eating here rather than cooking for himself.

American, Asian, Mediterranean - there was no limit to the variety of cuisines offered. After scanning the variety of dishes available, he selected a bowl of gyudon - thinly sliced beef simmered in a savory-sweet sauce over rice - along with miso soup and a small side of pickled vegetables. He navigated through the crowded space and spotted an open seat at a table near the windows, where sunlight streamed in through the tall panes, casting a warm glow over the polished wood.

As he settled in, two familiar faces from his morning class - Jace and Renée - were already at a table, along with another student he did not recognize. The new guy had a relaxed posture, eating with a casual rhythm while glancing up as Izuku joined them.

"Hey, Izuku," Jace greeted, setting down his drink. "Didn't think we'd see you here."

Izuku smiled. "Yeah, I figured I'd eat here today instead of heading home."

Renée, who had her long braids tied back into a neat ponytail, gave him an approving nod. "Good choice. Dining hall's got solid variety, and you get to meet people." She gestured to the guy next to her. "This is Marco Rivera. He's in my stats class."

Marco, a lanky young man with blonde curls, gold eyes, and perpetually summer-tanned skin, gave Izuku a handwave. "Nice to meet you. I've seen you around campus. You're the guy who takes those crazy-detailed notes, right?"

Old habits were hard to forget. Izuku chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I do take a lot of notes."

"Man, I respect that," Marco said, stabbing a piece of grilled chicken with his fork. "I always think I'll take notes, then I end up just trusting my memory and regretting it later."

Jace smirked. "Yeah, and then you borrow notes from people like Renée."

Renée rolled her eyes. "It's called teamwork. Try it sometime, Jace."

As they continued eating, the conversation meandered from coursework to weekend plans, with Marco mentioning a local jazz bar he wanted to check out and Jace complaining about an upcoming quiz. The meal was pleasant, the atmosphere relaxed - until a small group of women approached the table.

Three of them stood a few steps away, whispering amongst themselves, but two walked directly up to Izuku.

"Hi, Izuku," one of them, a petite girl with short auburn hair, greeted with a polite smile. "Do you mind if we talk for a minute?"

Jace and Marco exchanged knowing looks, but neither said anything.

Izuku, unaware of the silent exchange, looked up. He did not know this girl. Then again, he did not know Marco until now. Perhaps he was more popular than he had realized. Giving the benefit of the doubt to the girl, he replied. "Sure."

The other girl, a bit taller with bob-cut violet hair, shifted slightly before speaking. "We were wondering … would you like to go out sometime? Maybe grab coffee?"

Before Izuku could respond, he noticed the other three girls who had initially approached were already retreating, as if anticipating rejection.

Now it clicked.

So with an equally polite but firm smile, he shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I have a girlfriend."

There was a brief pause before the auburn-haired girl smiled tightly in understanding. "Ah, I see. Well, no hard feelings."

"No hard feelings," Izuku affirmed.

The two girls left without much fuss, though Marco let out a low whistle once they were out of earshot. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone reject someone that gracefully. You made it look easy. Teach me your skills!"

Renée grinned, "Izuku's got class."

He rubbed the back of his neck once more. "I just don't want to be rude."

Jace leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, "So, your girlfriend - what's her name, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Kamiko," Izuku responded immediately.

"Does she go here?"

To that question, he shook his head. "No. She's in Japan. Studying music composition with the aim of becoming a music teacher."

"So long-distance, huh?" Renée remarked. "Well, all the best to your relationship."

With no one having classes until late afternoon, Izuku and his new friends remained at their table in the dining hall. The discussion switched topics from one to the next. Which ultimately led to dialects. Jace tapped his fingers against the table, as if recalling something. "Oh, speaking of earlier," he stated, turning to Izuku, "I meant to ask - why were you forcing yourself to talk in an American accent?"

Izuku blinked once. "Pardon?"

"In Professor Greaves' class," Jace clarified. "When you answered that question, you kinda switched accents. It was like you were trying to sound more … American."

Renée hummed. "I noticed that, too. You don't have to do that, y'know."

He hesitated, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I guess I thought it would make communication easier."

Jace waved his hand, dismissing the idea. "Dude, your English is fine. No need to change your accent. Honestly, it caught me off guard more than anything. Just talk how you normally do."

"People come from all over," Renée added. "Accents are normal. Like, I use African American English with my family and friends, and I'm not about to 'neutralize' it for anyone. As long as we understand each other, that's all that matters."

Marco chimed in, "I can attest to that. Mama's side of the family is Hispanic. We speak so much Spanish at home that it slips into my English often."

"Really?" Izuku wondered. "I haven't heard you speak Spanish so far." This time, he let his natural Japanese accent slip in.

Jace snickered, "Wait until you see him on the soccer field. Dude barks orders in such rapid Spanish that the team has dubbed him 'Latino Rage.'"

It only fueled Izuku's confusion. "Why 'Rage?'"

"Because my teammates are stupid dumbasses. They miss such easy goals, it's ridiculous. My Mama's chancla to their heads should knock some sense into their brains. Alas, it is against school rules to hit pendejos."

You and Kacchan would get along great, Izuku thought to himself.

Otherwise, he absorbed their words. He had spent years learning English, and though he was confident in his fluency, the idea of blending in had always lingered in the back of his mind. It was reassuring to hear that he did not need to adjust himself just to fit a mold. "Thanks. I'll remember that."

"Good," Jace smiled teasingly. "'Cause I was about to start calling you 'Fake American Izuku,' if you kept it up."

"So, what's your quirk, Izuku?" Marco asked, leaning forward with interest.

Izuku debated the risks and rewards of telling the truth. Then he decided against hiding. He was the future Symbol of Peace. The whole world already knew of his power when he faced All for One for the last battle. "It's called 'One for All.'"

Jace immediately snorted. "Geez, that sounds way more dramatic than mine."

Renée raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. "What does it do?"

Izuku scratched his cheek. "Well … it enhances my physical abilities - strength, speed, endurance, that kind of thing. I guess you could say it's a power stockpiling quirk."

"That sounds busted," Marco whistled.

Jace harrumphed without any emotion. "I mean, it kinda makes sense. You were giving off MC energy the moment we met."

Izuku chuckled awkwardly but did not argue. The details were complicated enough as they were. No need to convolute them any further. "And what about you guys?" he inquired instead, deflecting the attention.

Jace immediately tilted back into his chair with a smug expression. "Oh, you're gonna love this. My quirk is called 'Red Ranger.'"

He blinked, uncomprehending. "Like Power Rangers?"

"Exactly." Jace crossed his arms proudly. "Superhuman strength, enhanced reflexes, crazy flash transformation, the whole deal. My suit materializes when I activate my quirk, and yes - it has a badass helmet."

Marco groaned and rolled his eyes. "You don't need to tell him about the helmet again."

Renée sniggered, "Oh, he absolutely does."

"That's pretty awesome," Izuku smiled, already making mental notes of the quirk.

Jace shrugged dramatically. "I know, right? I mean, it's kind of a given that I was born to be a leader."

"And yet, I bet you'd be the first to get knocked out in a fight," Renée remarked.

Jace gasped in mock offense. "You wound me."

Izuku turned to Renée next, asking about her quirk. Her expression turned mischievous. "Mine's called 'Curse of Healing'. I use voodoo dolls to inflict injuries or heal people. It's all about linking one thing to another through spirits. I can make a doll take damage instead of me, or use a target's hair or blood to heal or hurt them. Courtesy of my Louisianan Black heritage." Unsettling but impressive. Amongst his growing list of mental notes, he made one to never anger his friend. When he said as much, Renée smirked. "Good thinking. It is really useful. But people get weirded out when I start making dolls of them, so I try to keep it subtle."

Jace leaned in, as though telling a secret. His tone was anything but that. "She says that, but last semester, she made a doll of our professor and kept poking it during a lecture."

"I was just seeing if he'd sneeze," Renée said innocently.

Izuku could not help the snort that left his throat.

Marco simpered, "Alright, last one. You gotta meet our other friend."

At that moment, a tray clattered onto the table as a new figure slid into the seat beside Marco. She was striking, with long grey hair cascading past her shoulders, deep blue eyes, and dark, near-ebony skin. She had an almost ethereal presence - like she stepped out of a fantasy novel. Her features were delicate, giving her the appearance of a young dark elf straight out of folklore.

"Are you talking about me?" she asked, her voice velvety but carrying an unmistakable arrogance.

Marco gestured lazily. "Izuku, meet Elara Voss."

Elara barely spared Izuku a glance before flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Hmph. So you're the one everyone's talking about."

Izuku was unsure how to respond. "Um, nice to meet you?"

Elara lifted her chin, regarding him with an almost amused expression. "Consider yourself honored. You're in the presence of an untouchable treasure, a goddess in mortal form."

Renée groaned. "Here we go, again."

Jace chortled into his drink, making the liquid nearly expunge out of his nostrils. "She does this a lot."

"Right," Izuku answered because he was too dumb to think of any other response.

Elara smiled sweetly. Too sweetly, like she was pleased by Izuku's lack of protest. "My quirk is 'Venom Bloom.' I can grow and control poisonous mushrooms. My spores can paralyze, induce hallucinations, or even cause sleep. And, of course, I'm immune to most poisons."

Izuku took a second to process that. He knew a classmate from Class 1-B who also possessed a mushroom quirk. "That's cool."

Elara basked in the praise. "Naturally."

Marco rolled his eyes. "She also terrifies people on accident because mushrooms sprout whenever she walks barefoot."

"It's not my fault weaklings can't handle a little toxicity," Elara remarked airily.

Renée's lips quirked upward into a side smirk. "You ever consider working in pest control?"

Elara narrowed her eyes. "I will make you sleep for three days."

"And three days later, you'll be expelled. Still want to try?"

Izuku laughed, already getting used to their dynamic. It was an interesting group, no doubt.

Kamiko tightened the cardigan around her shoulders, fingers brushing over the wool knit as she leaned on the railing. The sky above was a deep indigo, stars faintly winking through the glow of the city. The early morning air was cool against her skin. A faint breeze stirred the curls of her hair. Cars passed by. The occasional laughter from students lingering outside echoed. The distant chime of a wind bell swayed on a neighbor's veranda.

Her phone buzzed.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips before she even looked at the screen.

Izuku.

Kamiko pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to her ear. "Good evening, Izuku," she spoke softly, her voice naturally dipping into a quieter tone in the morning stillness.

"Kamiko," Izuku's voice came through, steady but warm. "I hope I'm not calling too early."

"It's never too late for you," she assured him.

There was a small pause, a comfortable one. She could hear the rustling of fabric on his end, the distant clatter of dishes - probably from the kitchen or dining hall. It made her wonder where exactly he was calling from. "Were you still practicing?" he asked.

She exhaled a soft laugh. "A little. I was working on "Always With Me" again. Abe-sensei keeps telling me I need to relax my shoulders more."

Sincere as ever, he said, "I bet it sounds amazing already."

Kamiko tilted her head slightly, resting her cheek against the curve of her palm. "Maybe. But I want it to be perfect. Do you remember? You played it when I had my interview at the academy. And I joined you. There's something about that piece … it feels like a conversation, like trying to say something without words."

"I've never forgotten about it." Izuku made a thoughtful sound. "That makes sense. Music does that. I think you always put a lot of feeling into what you play."

She smiled, pleased by the compliment. "And what about you? How was your day?"

He chuckled lightly. "Eventful. I had lunch with some new friends: Jace, Renée, Marco, and Elara."

"Four friends in a single day?" she teased. "At this rate, you'll be more popular than All Might."

Izuku groaned. "Don't even joke about that."

"Go on. What are they like?" So Izuku went into depth about his college mates. Kamiko was glad that he had people to lean on abroad. She knew his introvert personality. Good-natured, polite, and friendly. He was amiable in every sense of the word, but usually struggled to initiate the conversation of friendship. When he finished, there was another comfortable lull in the conversation, filled only by the distant sounds of the city and the occasional rustle of wind.

"I miss you," Izuku admitted quietly.

Kamiko's fingers curled gently around the phone. Her heart gave a slow, steady, bittersweet ache. "I miss you, too."

"It's strange," he continued. "I know we both have our own things to focus on, but there are moments where I just wish you were here. Or I was there."

She closed her eyes briefly, letting the words settle. "Same here," she murmured. "But I know this is important for both of us. You're studying, I'm studying … and when we do see each other again, we'll have even more to share."

"Yeah," he agreed. "That's true."

Kamiko glanced up at the stars, her free hand absentmindedly tracing the wooden railing. "Until then, we'll have to make do with this."

"Not just make do. We have this."

They stayed on the line a little longer, not always speaking, but simply enjoying the presence of the other through the silence.

It was enough.

For now.