Chapter Text
Looking for something to help me burn out bright
In the classroom, the children (aged nine and ten) were all gathered around the new girl who had just moved into their neighborhood, eager to meet their new classmate. She had blue eyes, spiky orange hair, and an incredible quirk that let her change her fingers into cool, sharp blades. Her name was Haibara Yui.
The Yoarashi siblings, Inasa and Nashiro, were also gawking at her. Inasa had short dark hair and black eyes, while his sister had fluffy white hair and bright red eyes. They looked nothing alike, but personality-wise, they could be taken for twins. Both were energetic and outgoing, and loved to play outside, even during winter. And although Inasa was only two months older, he still did his best to protect his little sister. The fact that she was adopted meant little for him; ever since the day she was adopted into the family, when they were only three years old, he took it upon himself to be the best big brother he could be.
“Did you get your quirk from your parents?” a boy asked Yui, as the girl moved her blade-fingers.
“Nope. The doctors have no idea where it came from,” she replied with a grin. “Which makes it even more special, isn’t it?”
“Oh, that happened to me too!” Inasa spoke up. “My quirk is Whirlwind, and it’s a… what did the doctor call it…”
“Spontaneously occurring quirk,” Nashiro reminded him.
“That’s it!” said Inasa. “Because I didn’t inherit it from my parents.”
Nashiro still remembered the day the four of them went to the doctor’s appointment, when Inasa’s quirk manifested. He had insisted that Nashiro should be present too. The doctor called it a “fortunate miracle”, because their parents’ quirks were weak and unremarkable, but Inasa’s quirk was very powerful.
“Well, it’s a good thing, because I want to be a hero when I grow up,” said the girl with blades for fingers.
“I want to be a hero too!” Nashiro lit up, red eyes wide and starry.
“Is that so?” Yui tilted her head at her. “And what’s your quirk?”
“I can make light!”
The white-haired girl raised her hands, and then they started glowing, creating a small, feeble sphere of light in between her palms. She couldn’t hold it up for too long yet, because it made her tired, but she and Inasa had been training at home. She also had a pair of angel wings on her back, but well, those weren’t good for anything other than flying (and her parents insisted that she was too young for that).
“That doesn’t look like a hero’s quirk,” Yui scrunched her nose, crossing her arms. “It’s weak.”
“Hey, don’t say that!” Inasa got angry on his sister’s behalf. Nashiro’s hands lowered as her light faded, mirroring the way her smile fell from her face.
“But it’s true,” Yui said matter-of-factly. “What can she even do with that? Will she arrest villains by shining? That’s pathetic!”
She started laughing, and then the whole classroom was laughing with her. Nashiro felt something hot and unpleasant burn in her chest, fists clenching. She wasn’t just upset; she was angry. She wanted to prove that her quirk was not weak, even if it was, objectively speaking.
Because if that was true, if she had a weak quirk… then how would she become a pro hero with Inasa one day?
Before she even fully decided to, she charged at the other girl, raising her fist to punch her in the face. Yui yelped, touching her bruised cheek, and then her blue eyes turned furious. She raised her right hand, fingers changing into sharp blades. Nashiro raised her forearms in defense. Inasa stretched his hand towards them, activating his quirk to throw Yui away, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the girl managed to land a cut on Nashiro’s left forearm before getting thrown against the desk by a violent gust of wind.
“What’s going on here?!” the teacher finally arrived.
And that’s how the three kids found themselves in the principal’s office, Nashiro and Inasa sitting by one side of the room, Yui sitting on the other side. Nashiro’s forearm was wrapped in bandages.
When Yoarashi Nayomi arrived, she ran to her daughter and knelt in front of her, worried by the sight.
“What happened?” she asked, looking at her son for an explanation when Nashiro didn’t provide any.
She was looking away now, making a face.
Yui’s mother arrived shortly after, and it was only then that the principal spoke up from behind his desk. He was a stern-looking man with dark hair and a few wrinkles on his face.
“Haibara-san, Yoarashi-san, I called you here because your children got in a fight.”
“She did this to my daughter?” Nayomi looked at the other girl, outraged.
“She was the one who attacked me first!” the orange-haired girl threw back.
“Only because you said my quirk is weak!” Nashiro yelled.
“I wasn’t lying!”
Nashiro got off the chair, intent on fighting the girl again, but her mother held her in place.
“That’s quite enough, Nashiro,” she admonished, although she sounded more concerned than angry. “Did you really attack her first?”
“… I did,” Nashiro admitted, red eyes cast down.
“Then I don’t see why my daughter should be punished,” Haibara-san said. “She was only defending herself.”
“I don’t see any bandages on her,” Nayomi narrowed her dark eyes at her.
“Ladies, please,” the principal sighed, apparently tired. “I believe both girls should receive punishment. Yes, Yoarashi started the fight, but Haibara was bullying her. And besides, you should teach your daughter to have more self-control, Haibara-san, so that she doesn’t use her quirk against weaker students…”
Nashiro tuned out of the conversation, frowning. Weaker. That simple word hurt worse than Yui’s blades. She hated it.
A poisonous voice in her head said that Yui was right; that she would never get to be a hero like Inasa, that her quirk was worthless. She couldn’t even protect herself; she needed Inasa to stop the fight. Hadn’t he done that, now she’d be ripped to ribbons. How could she achieve her dream with such a ridiculous, pathetic quirk?
Inasa poked her arm, calling for her attention. When she looked at him, he offered her an encouraging smile. As if telling her, it’s okay, I’m here with you.
She forced herself to smile back. At least they were in this together.
The classroom was empty, except for the three of them.
The teacher looked tired, as if she’d been repeatedly explaining something to someone who just didn’t get it, and maybe that’s exactly what she was doing. The other woman, with purple eyes and shoulder-length indigo hair, insisted on defending her son, who was sitting at a desk next to the door, fidgeting with his backpack. He had his mother’s colors, although she always said he looked just like his father.
“You can’t just let it happen! I mean, you’re the teacher! Isn’t it your job to interfere when something like this happens?” the mother continued, exasperated.
“I’ve already told you that I talked to them, Shinsou-san, but the children are…” the other woman hesitated. “They are afraid of him.”
“What do you mean they’re afraid of him?” Shinsou Ayana narrowed her purple eyes at the teacher. “He’s done nothing wrong!”
“That’s not the problem, Shinsou-san,” the teacher grew apologetic. “The problem is… it’s his quirk.”
Ayana opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She knew that was bound to happen. Ever since the day his quirk first manifested, ever since the doctor confirmed it and named it (Brainwashing; it still sent shivers down her spine), she knew that things like this would happen.
When Hitoshi told her not to bother sending out invitations to his birthday party because no one would come, she had been confused, thinking that surely at least some of his friends would make it to the party, right? But then, after a lot of insistence, she finally coaxed the dreadful information out of him; he didn’t have friends at school.
Had never had, apparently, but he never told her.
“I can’t force the other kids to interact with him, Shinsou-san,” the teacher continued, sounding regretful. “It’s not their fault that they’re scared.”
“But it’s not his fault either,” Ayana argued, something pained in her voice. “He didn’t choose to be this way! He didn’t ask for this quirk!”
The teacher only sighed, feeling like they were running in circles.
Ayana sent a look at her son. He was staring down at his backpack, pretending not to listen. She was at a loss.
Hitoshi already knew that this conversation wouldn’t fix anything, had insisted that he didn’t care about it in the first place. Didn’t care that he didn’t have friends, that everyone stopped talking when he entered the room, that he was never included in their games, that he always ended up alone when they had to partner up in gym glass. He told himself that he wasn’t upset. He didn’t need them. Didn’t need anyone.
Because he knew, deep inside his heart, that he wasn’t evil. He would not become a villain, like some of his classmates whispered. He only wished he had a way to prove it…
And maybe there was a way to prove it.
“You want to learn martial arts? What for?”
Nayomi sent a curious look at her children, cocking her head to the side. She was in front of the stove, preparing dinner, when they came up to her asking for fighting lessons.
“Because all heroes know how to fight, and we’re going to become heroes!” was Inasa’s energetic response.
The mother shook her head, a subtle smile on her face. Of course she didn’t want them to become pro heroes; that was the most dangerous job out there! But she supposed she could entertain their little dreams for now. After all, what kid didn’t want to be a hero? They would surely grow out of it.
They did not, in fact, grow out of it.
They were both seventeen now, and still set on becoming pro heroes, so much so that they were already talking about what university they would attend. Nashiro was aiming for U.A., of course she was; ever since she learned that it offered the best hero course in Japan, she could settle for no less. Inasa himself didn’t care that much for the name; as long as he got in a hero course, he would be happy.
The youngest Yoarashi had long ago learned not to internalize what other people told her regarding her career of choice. Of course, when it was Inasa saying he was going to become a pro hero, everyone got excited for him, telling him how much of a great hero he would be, how awesome his quirk was, how fitting it was for a hero. But when it came to her, her parents, classmates and teachers would send her a pitiful look and suggest something else—“there are other ways to help people, you know? You can become a cop, or a doctor, or even a lawyer!”—which was all bullshit, because she was just as capable as her brother.
She only needed to find a way to prove it.
It was a sunlit afternoon, and Nashiro was heading back from school. She stopped by a convenience store to look for an energy drink. Unfortunately, as she opened the refrigerator door and bent down to look, she only found those fancy, fruity new flavors they were coming up with, and not the original one. She sighed and closed the door.
Just as she stood straight and looked to the side, she saw a tall figure in a long, dark blue overcoat and matching hat entering the store. Talk about looking like a villain. Eh, she shrugged to herself as she turned to get out. Looks can be deceiving.
But then the figure was fumbling with his coat, pulling something out…
“Hand over the money, old man.”
Out of instinct rather than logic, Nashiro looked to the right, where a wide mirror covered the wall. She could see that the tall man was now pointing a gun at the shopkeeper. But of course, when it’s my turn to buy energy drinks, I don’t find the one that I like, and on top of it I get to witness a robbery. Then again, her classmates did call her “Unlucky Shiro” for a reason.
At first, she was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. But when she saw the terrified expression on the old shopkeeper’s face, the way he immediately began shaking with fear…
Before she even knew it, she was moving.
The man was resorting to a gun, which meant he was either quirkless or his quirk wasn’t good for combat. It was a dangerous bet, she knew, but she hoped she was right. She charged at him from behind, circled him, and aimed a kick at his wrist.
He dropped the gun, and it hit the floor with a loud clank before skidding away. Good. Everything was going according to plan.
Plan? What plan? You just decided to attack a villain—an armed man an armed man AN ARMED MAN—as if this wasn’t the most stupid idea you’ve ever had!
Shut up!, Nashiro told her own whirring mind, I’m trying to focus!
As the man turned to her with a surprised “What the fuck,” she punched him straight on the nose. He brought his hands up, cursing and groaning, and then blood was dripping down his lips. He then sent her a murderous look. “You little bitch!”
Her mind was reeling, her blood was rushing with adrenaline, it felt like fire was pumping through her veins, and all she knew was that she needed to move.
The villain knew some moves, that much was clear from the fight. She had to employ all of her knowledge from her mixed martial arts classes, kicking high and low, punching left and right, moving as quickly as she possibly could—not only because that was the wisest thing to do in order to survive but because she couldn’t possibly stop. Once she started moving, it was like stopping was no longer an option; like her body was moving on its own accord. She hoped that was a good thing.
They ended up wrestling on the floor, the shopkeeper watching the brawl with a terrified expression. There was no sign of the villain’s quirk yet, so maybe he really was quirkless. It was Nashiro’s lucky day then (all things considered). After enduring an elbow to her ribs and a few kicks, she managed to trap the villain in a rear neck choke, which was quite a complicated feat to get done due to their size difference (and the awkward angle of her wings), but once she had him in place, she did not let go.
As she closed her right forearm around his throat and pressed hard, she yelled out to the shopkeeper,
“Call the police!”
The old man started fumbling with his phone. After several seconds of struggling and kicking, the villain finally passed out. When he went limp in her arms, Nashiro released him with a tired but relieved sigh.
“Have you got duct tape?” she asked as she got up and smoothed her uniform skirt. The shopkeeper nodded, still looking frightened. “Can I get some?”
After he handed her the duct tape, she proceeded to wrap the villain’s hands behind his back safely, and then his ankles as well. Then she returned what was left of the duct tape to the shopkeeper, handing it to him over the counter.
“Thank you, young lady!” he nearly shrieked, holding both her hands. He was shaky and sweaty, the poor man.
“No problem!” she gave him a bright, sunny smile.
The shopkeeper looked so scared that she decided to stay with him until the police arrived. The officers who came to aid them (one was a common-looking man with short black hair, the other had a golden retriever head) had mixed opinions on her feat.
“Well, I suppose it was a good thing that you knew how to fight,” said the golden retriever one. “But in future crime scenes, please avoid starting a confrontation with an armed villain, woof!”
“What he said,” the other one agreed numbly. He looked a little tired. “Now go home while we take care of this guy.”
As Nashiro walked back home, she felt oddly satisfied. It felt good to save someone. To prove that she could do that. That she really had it in her to be a pro hero; that she was cut for the job. Most importantly, it spoke to insecurities that were buried deep inside her, to Haibara Yui’s affirmations about her quirk from years ago (yes, it still haunted her to this day, no matter how hard she tried to deny it), to all the other times people doubted her, either kindly or not.
In the end, she didn’t even need her quirk to incapacitate a villain! She beat him down using nothing but her combat skills, much like one of her top favorite heroes, Miruko. And while it was true that it was Miruko’s Rabbit quirk that allowed her to fight like that, Nashiro still looked up to her as a great inspiration. When she finally becomes a pro hero, she would take villains down just like Miruko did, with her body strength and agility.
She didn’t need a super powerful quirk for that. She could do just fine with her combat skills.
She repeated that in her head as many times as she needed to finally believe it.
That night, Nashiro checked on her parents and brother to make sure they were asleep. Sly was not a word most people would use to describe her, but for a task like this, she needed to move under the radar.
It was a sense of sheer recklessness and a need for more adrenaline (and more of whatever it was that made her feel worthy) that drove her to do this. She got dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie, tucking her long white hair underneath it, a black mask to hide her face, black fingerless gloves, and her faithful red leather combat boots. One look in the mirror let her know that her attire was muted and forgettable, just what she needed tonight.
She leaped out of her bedroom window and spread her wings into the night, looking for trouble.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing it, but she couldn’t really stop herself. It felt good to help people, to know that even though her quirk was weak, she wasn’t. She was good for something. She had finally found a way to prove it.
It was curious how it had never crossed her mind before that afternoon’s event.
But she should have known better.
Of course she wouldn’t be able to keep her vigilante routine a secret for too long. For one, their local pro heroes (especially Miruko, bless her) were damn good at keeping villains and wrongdoers at bay, so vigilantes weren’t really needed in their neighborhood. That was the reason why Nashiro ventured into the most dangerous streets and corners, even if that meant flying further away from home (her maps app had come in handy multiple times).
But second, and that was probably the most important detail, she had wings. And although she knew people with all different kinds of quirks, she didn’t know anyone else who had wings like hers. Even though the famous pro hero Hawks (who also happened to be one of her favorites) also had wings, his were red, and he didn’t go on patrols in her city. Nashiro’s wings were just too outstanding for her to go unnoticed for too long.
That morning, she was having cereal for breakfast, wearing long sleeves even though it was hot to hide the bandages that covered her arms. The villain from last night was particularly aggressive. But she got to save someone, so it was alright.
When Inasa entered the kitchen and circled the table, standing across from her, he looked very serious for some reason. It was a frightening thing to see, considering how he was always smiling.
He leaned back on his chair, sending her an appraising look as he asked,
“Where were you last night?”
Nashiro stopped chewing, looking at him with wide eyes. She swallowed her cereal carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“I went to your room and you weren’t there.”
“I was…” she took a moment to think of something believable. “At Camie’s house.”
“No you weren’t. I called Camie and Seiji and you weren’t with them. So, where were you?”
Fuck. Camie and Seiji were the only ones she had enough intimacy with to have a sleepover; now she had nothing else to say.
“What did you want with me?” she asked instead, trying to play it cool. Took another spoonful of cereal to her mouth.
“Stop evading my question,” Inasa’s dark eyes narrowed.
“What I do and where I go are none of your business,” she dropped her spoon into the cereal bowl, getting defensive.
“Since when do you keep secrets from me?” Inasa looked wounded, which served to make her stomach lurch with guilt. But then he sent her a knowing look, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “But I know where you were and what you were doing. What you’ve been doing for the past two months, apparently.”
He slid his phone over the table so that she could read. It was a news article.
Winged vigilante strikes again
Last night, a civilian managed to get a picture of the vigilante who has been sighted several times across the Yamanashi Prefecture. The police already has nine records of this mysterious vigilante’s activity, and that’s not taking into account the crimes that go unreported. The first record dates back to two months ago.
According to the records, this individual wears a black hoodie and a black mask, so no one was able to find out her identity yet. But six of the civilians who have been rescued by her and managed to talk to her said she has a woman’s voice. The most noticeable thing about her, however, are her wings.
“She saved me from a guy with a knife when I was coming back from a party,” says Harume Rukia, age 24. “If it wasn’t for her, I have no idea what would have happened to me. She has those, um, those wings, really big, that makes her look like, like an angel. And she fights really well.”
Our local pro hero Usagiyama Rumi, better known as Miruko, has spoken out on the issue.
“Vigilantism is never good. Well, at least that’s what I’m supposed to say, right? But we can’t deny that this girl’s activity has been good for the civilians. We pro heroes can’t handle everything every time, so I don’t see why… oh, never mind, I’m not supposed to say that!”
According to the Quirk Restriction Laws, vigilantism is a serious crime, punishable with imprisonment. This article does not seek to encourage or endorse any criminal behavior in any way, shape or form.
Her mouth was hanging open as she read through the piece. Wait, did Miruko just kind of compliment me?! Not that she should be focusing on that of all things, but dammit, it did make her chest warm and fuzzy with pride.
She then looked up at Inasa, and swallowed; by the look on his face, she knew there was no use in lying. Well, she’d never been a good liar anyway, much less when it came to her own brother. The shitty thing about growing up so close to him? He could read right through her every time.
And so, all she could manage to say was,
“Please don’t tell mom and dad.”
Inasa closed his eyes and sighed. As if he’d been expecting her to deny everything, to maybe come up with a good excuse, something he could believe.
“I thought we were going to become pro heroes together, Shiro,” he said, sounding more disappointed than angry. “How do you expect to become a hero with a criminal record?”
“There won’t be a criminal record if they don’t catch me,” she deadpanned.
“This is insanity,” Inasa shook his head. “I know you’ve always been eager to prove your worth, but this is not the way to do it. We’re almost done with high school, and then we’ll get into a hero academy, and then you’ll be able to save people. Can’t you wait just a little longer?”
She looked down at her cereal bowl, suddenly not hungry anymore.
“And don’t think I don’t see how you’re always bruised and hurt, how you’re always patching yourself up when you think no one’s looking,” he continued, tone worried and accusing in equal parts. “You could’ve told me at least. We always tell each other everything, right?”
She forced herself to look up and meet his eyes, feeling like she owed at least that to him. Because it was true, wasn’t it? Inasa had always been there for her. He’d always been her best friend, her cheerleader, her biggest supporter.
“I’m sorry, Inasa. The first time I did it, it was an accident. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but after that…” she looked down again, searching within herself. She knew he was right about her reasons; she just wanted to prove her worth, in the end. “I just felt good knowing that I’d helped someone.”
“You will help people,” he said, in a lighter tone. “But you gotta do it the right way. Can you promise me you won’t do it anymore?”
She bit her lip, considering it. She knew that if she said yes, she would have to keep her promise; she’d never break a promise she made to him, of all people. She also knew that she would be giving up on something that was important for her.
Just for a little while, she told herself. Soon enough, she would be a pro hero.
After a long moment of silence, she finally made up her mind.
“Alright. I promise.”
February 26
One year before the war against All For One
“The rescue part was easy, and I got to save a lot of people, but the robots… the robots were terrible. My quirk was pretty useless against them, so I had to tear their wires with my teeth. Now my teeth are hurting. It was awful.”
Yoarashi Nashiro—who preferred to go by the family name Tenshi, to honor her biological parents—, aged eighteen, was recounting the events of the entrance exam held at the U.A. Academy, which was the best hero academy in Japan. She was in the backseat with her brother Inasa, who was staring out the window. It was a pretty spacious car, to accommodate the younger daughter’s feathered limbs.
“Oh, dear. I’ll get you some painkillers when we get home,” said her mother from the driver’s seat, giving her a weary smile through the rearview mirror.
“What about you?” Nashiro looked at her brother. “I bet the recommendation exam was even harder!”
Inasa didn’t even look at her as he numbly said,
“It was fine.”
What a cold, brief response. It was nothing like Inasa to reply like that. Nashiro frowned, but knew better than to press him; he was usually very talkative, so if he was keeping things to himself, it was probably something serious. He would talk when he was ready.
“Your father will surely want to hear all about it when he gets home,” Nayomi said, somehow managing to seem cheerful for them despite the fact that she never wanted this path for either of her children.
Nashiro looked out the window, smiling a little to herself. She was pretty sure she would get a good score from the rescue simulation. And the written exam was pretty easy too. All things considered, she had a solid chance. She was feeling confident. She had prepared for this. She had trained hard.
After all, getting into U.A. had always been her dream.
Because it was the number one university for heroes, which many of the big names had attended, such as All Might and Endeavor. Because ever since she and her brother were snotty kids, they dreamed of becoming pro heroes when they grew up. Because she didn’t even have a plan B or a second option; all she could picture for herself was doing just that, being a pro hero, saving people.
It was a shame that her quirk was far from befitting for a hero.
When Inasa got a recommendation and she didn’t (because why would she, when her quirk was useless?), she told herself she was not upset. Told herself that she was happy for him. That she wasn’t jealous.
Inasa had a wonderful, powerful quirk; Whirlwind. He could manipulate wind as he liked, bending it to his will and making it behave according to his wish. He was a natural at it too, always had been.
Nashiro’s quirk was similar, but also very different. With Light Manipulation, she could create light and also control light that came from other sources, such as lamps and fire. However, unlike her brother’s quirk, it drained a lot of her energy, and every time she used it, she ended up feeling exhausted—sometimes she even fainted. It took a lot of training and endurance for her to be able to maintain a steady light flow for five minutes straight. It was very frustrating.
Her quirk was flashy, just not in the right way.
When they finally got home, they both headed upstairs to take a much needed shower. They lived in a nice house, in a nice area of the city. The Yoarashis weren’t dirty rich, but they were pretty well off. It was a far cry from her life with her biological parents; she remembered very little of them, since they died soon after the Yoarashis adopted her, but she still had glimpses of them every now and then. She remembered they used to seek refuge in shelters and abandoned buildings, and all their clothes and food were either donated or stolen.
But she also remembered love. She remembered loving them and being loved fiercely; remembered hiding underneath her father’s long wings, and her mother’s pretty red skin and black and red eyes as she rocked her to sleep, singing softly as Nashiro played with her raven black hair.
It wasn’t much, but it was something, little pieces of a past she missed, regardless of the hardships they’d faced, and she held them close to her heart.
When she asked her adoptive parents to keep the Tenshi name, they had denied her with regretful expressions, explaining that she needed to take their name for safety reasons. She knew just by the look on their faces that they had only denied her because they had a solid reason to; although the Yoarashis loved and claimed her as their own, they never lied about her biological parents, and they never tried to take their place in her heart either. She knew that they deeply respected all the love she nurtured for her biological parents.
And she did remember her biological parents telling her about that too, on the last day she’d seen them; the day they took her to the Yoarashi household and never returned. The memory was faint; she was so young after all. They said something about bad people who were going after them, and that was the reason why they could never stay in the same place for too long; why they were always on the run. The reason why she had to live with the Yoarashis from then on.
But as the years went by, she was pretty sure no one was coming for her. And so, after asking nicely, her parents agreed to let her ask her friends and classmates to call her by her biological father’s family name, even though her documents would remain the same. It was only a small gesture to honor her biological parents, to make sure that she still carried a piece of them with her somehow, but it was worth it.
But all of this wasn’t to say she didn’t love the Yoarashis just as fiercely. Nayomi was a loving mother, and although she gave Nashiro time and space when she needed it, she never once made a distinction between Inasa and her just because they weren’t related by blood. And Amon was an awesome father, always trying to make time for them, no matter how busy he was with work.
After they were both clean and dressed in casual clothes, the siblings went downstairs to help their mother cook dinner. They were making sukiyaki to celebrate; going through the entrance exam was a milestone, regardless of the result they would get.
When their father was finally home, dinner was ready. They both talked about their troubles in the U.A. grounds as their parents listened intently, and Amon seemed to note that Inasa was keeping to himself, but after trading a knowing look with his wife, he said nothing about it.
It was only long after their parents had retired to sleep, when they were alone in the kitchen, Inasa washing the dishes and Nashiro patting them dry, that he finally decided to speak.
“I met someone during the entrance exam today,” he began, his tone strangely serious. “Todoroki Shouto, Endeavor’s son. And he was… exactly the same as his father. I could only see resentment and hatred in his cold eyes. Just like the day I met Endeavor.” He finished rinsing the last bowl and turned off the faucet, brow furrowing. “He will be a shit hero. He has no passion. They’re the same. I can’t stand it.”
Nashiro could hear the frustration in his voice, and she knew very well where it was coming from. She had been there on the day Inasa met his former favorite hero; the day Endeavor dismissed him coldly, having no idea how that simple action had disappointed his number one fan. Inasa had promised to himself that he would never be that kind of hero; he would save people with a smile on his face, like a true hero should. He would inspire people. He would set a good example.
“That sucks,” she offered, standing by his side. She was considerably shorter than him. “But maybe you won’t even attend the same class. And even if you do, you don’t have to interact with him if you don’t want to. You can just ignore him.”
Her words didn’t seem to have much of an effect on him. Inasa sighed.
“Who knows.”
When March rolled in, the Yoarashi siblings were vibrating with anticipation, checking the mail every five minutes, eager to find out whether or not they’d made it into U.A.
When the results finally arrived, they brought their letters to the living room, and luckily both their parents were home. Their letters had arrived together, but Inasa was the elder, so he got to open his first. Inside the letter, there was a small, round projector. When Inasa got it in his hands, All Might’s face suddenly came into view, and he dropped it to the carpet, startled.
“I am here as a projector!” the hologram said excitedly.
“What the fuck.” Inasa was visibly surprised.
“Language,” Nayomi chided, although she was too excited to really care.
The recorded version of All Might went on to explain that he would be working at U.A. from now on as a teacher. He stood tall and muscular, inspiring and imposing like only the number one hero All Might could be. Nashiro’s eyes widened just from that, and excitement bubbled in her chest as she held her own letter to her chest with both hands. All Might went on to say that Inasa had gotten points from the written exam, but he truly shined during the recommendation exam, and ended up in first place.
“Congratulations, Young Yoarashi! This is your hero academia!”
Nayomi and Nashiro hugged him, congratulating him as well, while Amon patted his back with a proud smile. They allowed him to bask in the glory with a happy smile for a while longer, before they all turned their eyes to the younger sister.
Nashiro gulped, looking at her letter. She’d been dying to find out, but now that it was time to open it, she was actually frightened. She took a deep breath and ripped through the paper, getting the projector in her hands and stretching it away from her face, shaking only slightly.
It was All Might again, but although he was smiling (as always), he didn’t look quite as lively.
“I am here as a projector!” he greeted again, then explained that he would be teaching at U.A., the same way he did in Inasa’s recording. But that’s where the similarities ended. “Young Yoarashi, you did remarkably well in the written exam, and you also got points from the rescue simulation. But unfortunately, you didn’t score high enough to get accepted. Since you didn’t make it into the Hero Department, we suggest you try our General Education Department instead, our Support Department, or the Management Department. Remember, there are many ways to shine and help people! Being a pro hero is only one of many options. Good luck!”
And with that, the recording came to an end.
Nashiro’s arms fell limp by her side, and she stared blankly at the TV. Her heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, but all that anxiety was now turning into bitter despair in her chest. She didn’t get accepted. She knew she didn’t do that well with the damn robots, but dammit, she had thought that she at least stood a chance. She did save lots of people during the rescue simulation. But apparently, that was not enough.
“Hey, it’s not the end of the world,” her brother said softly, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “We’ll still get our results from Shiketsu’s exam. You said you did much better in their exam than U.A.’s.”
But she didn’t want to go to Shiketsu. She wanted to go where the number one heroes had gone. To prove that she was good enough too. She suddenly felt like crying…
But she didn’t.
Not until later, after her parents had gone upstairs and left them alone, when she and Inasa were sitting on the couch, he playing Mortal Kombat, she leaning into him and hugging her knees. Retro games from the pre-quirk era always raised her spirits, but not that night. She felt flattened and heartbroken. She felt like a failure.
Inasa didn’t say anything for a good while, allowing her to silently cry on his shoulder. He kept his focus on the game, pretending not to listen. He knew she preferred it that way. After a long while, when he’d won yet another round, he lowered the controller and his face grew thoughtful.
“You know what, I’m not even sure if I will be attending U.A.”
Nashiro blinked confusedly, leaning away from him and rubbing her eyes dry. “What do you mean?”
“Remember what I said about Todoroki?”
“Yeah. He was a prat,” she sniffed. “What’s that to do with anything?”
“Well, I don’t want to go to the same university as him,” Inasa said simply.
Nashiro snorted, incredulous.
“Brother, that’s a stupid reason to give up on your dream university. So what that some passionless guy is going to be your classmate? This has been your dream since you were a child!”
“No, my dream was to become a hero,” Inasa corrected steadily. “And I can do that just fine by graduating from Shiketsu.”
Well, now that she thought about it, it was true; Inasa had never been too particular about which university he wanted to attend. He tried to get into U.A. because she wanted to go to U.A. But still, he got accepted, and she didn’t. She couldn’t let him let that go to waste.
“You’re just saying that because I didn’t get accepted,” she complained, voice still heavy with tears. “That’s unfair.”
He looked at her then, and there was not an ounce of pity in his eyes, only understanding.
“But that’s my decision. And I’ll stick with it.”
Nashiro was infuriated. She had to witness her brother give up on their dream university, her dream university, just because she wasn’t good enough to enter. She started crying again. Inasa wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.
“I mean, how bad can Shiketsu be, right?” he said, in a lighter tone. “And besides, I’ll have my little sister with me!”
Much later that night, when she was alone in her room, her many hero posters and figurines were the only witnesses to the silent sobs that climbed up her throat and the many tears that escaped her eyes.
April
When the news broadcast the attack on U.S.J., her parents stated that it was a good thing that she and her brother had enrolled in Shiketsu instead. That way, they were safe. No villains were attacking Shiketsu at least.
Still, that did nothing to turn off the roaring fire inside her, to lessen her insistence even by an inch. Her sadness at failing the exam had transformed into a newfound inspiration when she found out she could still get in by submitting a transfer application.
It’s not that Shiketsu was bad; far from it, it really deserved the title of best university in the west and second best in Japan. And she even made a few friends, although she wasn’t nearly as popular as her brother, and some students insisted on picking on her because of her quirk—which always resulted in a fight, because she wasn’t one to take a beating lying down.
But still, she never got over the feeling that she was missing out. That she was in the wrong place.
That maybe, if she tried just a little harder, she could fix this.
May
Two days after the Sports Festival
As he walked to the teachers lounge, he wondered what Aizawa-sensei wanted with him.
Perhaps it had something to do with the way he behaved during the Sports Festival—which was, he must admit, less than commendable. He had dealt rather poorly with the whole thing, now that the adrenaline had worn off and he could properly access the situation.
Looking back, Hitoshi realized he’d only relied so much on his quirk because he’d never been allowed to do that before. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism to the trauma of having been bullied for it his whole life. Either way, after spending all of his life without using his quirk, he had decided that had been good for nothing; had decided he would win the damn festival with nothing but his Brainwashing. If people were going to call him a monster, he might as well get something out of it.
But the truth was, he was bitter and disappointed and antagonized everyone in the Hero Department out of spite. He hid his insecurities beneath a mask of arrogance and coldness, and acted like his future classmates (that is, if he ever made it into the hero course) were either tools for him to use as he saw fit or enemies for him to take down.
And that was a genuinely exhaustive way to live life.
In the end, he’d only given everyone a valid reason to antagonize him in return. And he couldn’t even blame them for that. It was all on him.
Even his classmates from Gen. Ed. were now giving him the cold shoulder, either because they were disappointed in him, or because they were bloody terrified. Either way, Hitoshi was alone.
Which was not surprising, neither was it new. And yet, if he ever cared to admit, it hurt.
As he stood in front of the door, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come. If Aizawa wanted to scold him or something, he only hoped the teacher would be quick about it.
He knocked before entering, finding the scruffy man sitting on one of the couches, alone. Aizawa gestured for him to sit on the opposite couch, and Hitoshi did just that.
“Your transfer paperwork is being reviewed,” said the black-haired teacher in a numb voice. “By the end of the week we’ll find out whether or not you’ll be joining the hero course. But that doesn’t matter.”
He then fixed Hitoshi with a very intense look, one that could’ve made a lesser man shiver.
“Do you really want to be a hero?”
For a moment, Hitoshi was speechless. Because that was not what he was expecting. And because, well, that was a pointless question, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he shown to everyone how much he wanted to become a hero? Hadn’t he said that in front of his competitors, his classmates, the cameras and everyone else?
“I do, sir.”
Aizawa didn’t seem convinced.
“How much do you want it?”
Hitoshi swallowed.
How much did he want it? It was his childhood dream. It was everything.
“… badly.”
“Do you want it enough to change your ways, accept harsh criticism, work on yourself and put in the effort to do better?” Aizawa’s voice was a little louder now, and considerably harsher. “Or is it just a childish desire for admiration and praise? Would you still be a hero if no one knew you were a hero? If no one gave you a pat on the back for it, or even said thank you? Would you still want to be a hero if you got nothing out of it?”
“I…” Hitoshi was taken aback. He’d never even talked to Aizawa before, and now the man was questioning his motivations and making him truly consider things.
Because truth be told, ever since he was a child, he just wanted to be a hero. When he stopped to think about the why, he was taken back to feelings of rejection and loneliness, taken back to all the times he faced discrimination due to his quirk, so it was just so much easier to say that he simply wanted it; that it was just his dream.
Because the heart craves what it craves.
“I want to be a hero to prove that even those who society considers unfitting are able to do it.” He said finally, choosing to speak the truth, if only this time. “To prove that there’s no such thing as a villainous quirk.”
“Being a hero is not about proving things,” Aizawa bit out. “It’s about saving people. If you want to be the voice of the wronged, go become a lawyer or something. Heroes should not be symbols of power. They should be symbols of altruism. The first thing you must learn as a hero is to put others first. Are you willing to risk your life for a stranger’s?”
“I can be altruistic,” Hitoshi said, defensive. “I want to save people. I wouldn’t be doing it just for the glory.”
Aizawa analyzed him with critical eyes. Hitoshi wasn’t even breathing.
“Then I’ll train you.” He said finally. “I’ll make a hero out of you, Shinsou Hitoshi.”
The indigo-haired one frowned. It didn’t sound quite real in his head.
“But you said the results won’t come out until the end of the week…”
“That’s not of importance. You don’t need to be enrolled in a hero course to get a license. You just need to be good enough to get approved. And I can get you there.”
Hitoshi nodded slowly, barely believing his ears.
“But you’ll have to train hard,” Aizawa added, his tone almost ominous. “To start off, you rely too much on your quirk. You clearly haven’t trained your body, which led you to getting defeated by Midoriya in a rather pathetic way. From now on, you’ll be training hard to sharpen your combat skills and strengthen your body. Since your quirk isn’t well-suited for combat and mobility, you’ll also learn how to use a capturing weapon. Got any questions?”
At this point, Hitoshi was barely breathing. He still managed to deliver a faint,
“No, sir.”
“Then we’ll get started tomorrow. Meet me at the gym at six sharp. Don’t be late.”
And with that, Aizawa got up to leave.
Hitoshi could barely believe it. Enrolling in the hero course or not, he could become a hero. And he finally had someone who saw his potential.
He wouldn’t let that chance go to waste.
“But why does he have to come to our class? They should get that pervert Mineta expelled and move him to class A instead,” said Tsunotori Pony, sitting on the armchair.
Everyone from class 1-B was gathered in the living room, waiting for their newcomer’s arrival. He could show up anytime now.
“I overheard someone saying that Aizawa fought tooth and nail for him, but Nedzu thinks class 1-A is already too overpowered as it is,” said Kuroiro Shihai, sitting back on the couch, one leg crossed over the opposite knee. “So he’s giving us a powerhouse of our own, to make things fair.”
“How do you even get this kind of information?” Setsuna narrowed her eyes at him from the opposite couch.
Shihai shrugged.
“Well, we surely can’t deny that his quirk is damn powerful,” said Tetsutetsu.
“And scary,” Kinoko was fearful. “I’m scared of him.”
“Enough of this,” Kendou spoke up, standing next to the armchair. “He’s going to be our new classmate, and we’re going to be nice and welcoming to him. Understood?”
No one responded.
Hitoshi stood before the double doors of the building and took a deep breath.
A few days had gone by, and he was finally accepted into the hero course. Now he was about to meet his new classmates. The anxiety that filled him now was somehow greater than the anxiety he felt before knowing whether or not he was making it into the hero course.
It was still a matter of rejection. Just of another kind.
But he could not falter now. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.
This is it. This is what you wanted, right? To get in the hero course. To prove you were good enough. And you did it. Here you are.
So why was he feeling so anxious?
Maybe, just maybe, it was because those were people who had seen the way he used his quirk to his advantage during the Sports Festival, who probably thought he had no moral values whatsoever. People who would probably think he’d be better off as a—
(villain)
No, he wouldn’t think of that. Not now.
He grabbed the doorknob intently and pushed the door open.
As he entered the room, all voices went silent. His new classmates only stared at him for a moment. He himself wasn’t quite sure of what to say or do. His right hand was holding onto his backpack’s strap tightly, so he raised his left hand in greeting.
“Yo.”
“Hey,” a redhead with a ponytail greeted with a smile. “Welcome to class 1-B. I’m Kendou Itsuka, class representative.”
The next one to wave his hand lazily was a blonde sitting on one of the couches. He had an air of smug indifference to him.
“Monoma Neito,” he introduced himself with no hesitation, which caught Hitoshi off guard. “Call me whatever.”
“Alright,” Hitoshi nodded.
The rest of them were visibly wary of him, as they all hesitated to give him their names. Hitoshi noted how Itsuka gave a subtle sigh, as if she was frustrated by something.
“Um… I’m Shiozaki Ibara,” said the one with green vines for hair. “W-welcome.”
And then, one by one, his new classmates told him their names. But the suspicion never left their faces; he could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. The fear. The distrust. He was all too used to it; knew it from his childhood. It was nothing new.
After the introductions were made, he headed to the elevator, ignoring the tense, deafening silence in the living room.
And for the umpteenth time in his life, Hitoshi told himself he didn’t care.
At night, he couldn’t sleep.
That was understandable. Not only was his usual insomnia messing with his head, but there was also the anxiety of being in a new place, surrounded by new people—people who didn’t trust him. People who didn’t like him. People who didn’t even want him to be there.
He rolled in bed for what could be the hundredth time and checked his phone. 2 am. He gave a long-suffering sigh. Tomorrow would be his first day in the hero course and he couldn’t even manage to sleep. It didn’t bode well for him.
He supposed he wouldn’t be getting sleep any time soon and headed downstairs. The elevator was strangely loud in the dead of night.
To his surprise, there was already someone in the half-lit living room, sitting on the armchair, next to the lampshade. It was Monoma Neito, the one who didn’t hesitate to introduce himself earlier. He looked up from his book.
“Hey,” said Neito. “Trouble sleeping?”
“I have insomnia.”
“Being in a strange place must only serve to worsen it, I suppose,” he said, understanding. “There’s tea in the kitchen. You can come sit with me if you want.”
Hitoshi headed to the kitchen, and brewed some tea for himself. Then he returned to the living room with a mug in hand, and sat on the couch next to Neito.
“Why are you up late?” he tried to strike a conversation.
“I have trouble sleeping too,” the blond flipped a page of his book. “I wouldn’t call it insomnia though. It only happens sometimes.”
Hitoshi drank from his tea. It tasted nice. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while.
“So, what are your expectations regarding the hero course?” Neito asked suddenly, lifting his blue eyes to meet Hitoshi’s purple ones.
“I hope to learn how to be a good hero,” the indigo-haired one said, feeling like his answer was a dumb one, but not knowing what else to say. “I mean, I’ve been having lessons with Aizawa-sensei, and he said I could get a hero license without going through a hero course, but still… I wanted to do it the traditional way, I guess.”
At that, Neito seemed a little surprised.
“Aizawa-sensei has been training you?” he said in a low voice, then smiled. “Man, that will make everyone jealous of you.” As he noticed how uncomfortable Hitoshi seemed with that prospect, he quickly calmed him down. “Don’t worry, I’m not saying anything. But I suppose they’ll find out sooner or later, so be ready for that.”
Hitoshi nodded, staring down at his steaming mug. He was hunched over, holding it with both hands. The warmth seeped into his skin in a pleasant way, but it wasn’t quite enough to soothe his anxiety.
“Earlier today, when I arrived,” he began, still looking at his tea as though it could reveal to him some great truth about life and its mysteries. “You and Kendou were the only ones who didn’t hesitate to talk to me. I know people are afraid of me because of my quirk, but you… weren’t. I wanted to know why.”
“We both have undervalued quirks, so I kind of know where you’re coming from,” the blonde said lightly, crossing his legs elegantly. He sent Hitoshi a faint smile. “I just think underdogs should stick together. There’s strength in numbers. And besides, my main goal here is to prove that we’re better than those brats from class A. I’m glad we have you now. You have a nice quirk.”
Purple eyes shot up, widening with surprise and… and something good. Something happy. He couldn’t remember someone ever telling him he had a nice quirk; fearsome, frightening, scary, suspicious, dangerous, all of these words and more had been used to describe his quirk, but never nice, never something positive.
Hitoshi smiled. He only wished he had heard it more often, but he supposed this was a good start.
The next year
March
When the letter finally arrived, Nashiro ran upstairs and closed the door, sitting on her bed and gulping down her anxiety as she stared at it with shaky hands.
She had submitted her transfer application in secrecy, against her parents’ wishes. Well, Inasa knew about it, but he always knew about everything, so he didn’t count.
She had to go through an online interview, and then a written exam that was somehow even harder than the previous year’s entrance exam, and then she had to submit a video of herself using her quirk. She was confident that the first two steps were handled correctly, but the video left her concerned; she knew that her quirk was far from ideal, especially after U.A. had raised the bar regarding quirks due to the attacks they’d faced.
Her parents had tried everything to make her change her mind. It was only understandable; after the whole ordeal with the League of Villains, the university had become even more famous —but her parents were afraid that now U.A. would be a permanent target for villains.
Likewise, U.A. had become even more strict with its rules, and getting in was even harder. She heard that this year’s entrance exam was unforgiving, and only a dozen entrants had managed to get in; only those with outstanding quirks, or skills good enough to make up for it.
Nashiro drew in a calming breath, closing her eyes, and then opened them again, staring down at the letter in her hands. This time, it was a plain, simple letter; there would be no All Might projection to announce whether or not she made it.
She didn’t know if that made things better or worse.
After worrying her lip raw, she finally decided to bite the bullet and began tearing the paper down.
Dear Yoarashi Nashiro,
We are sorry to say that your transfer application has been rejected. Unfortunately, your quirk does not meet our current requirements. Therefore, to maintain our above-average quality regarding our alumni, and taking your own safety into account, we have decided not to accept you.
We strongly suggest that you focus on your current course. The Shiketsu University is a renowned institution, that has produced many outstanding heroes, as you must already know.
Sincerely,
Nedzu, Principal of the U.A. Academy
When one loud, gleeful Inasa barged into her room, he took a moment to realize it was a bad time. He was babbling about going out with Camie and Seiji, her ex-partners. The three of them had dated for a while, but it wasn’t really working; they came to realize they worked better as friends and ended things amicably. It was no one’s fault.
“So, I know you just broke up with them, but you’re on good terms, right? So I was wondering if we could go to the arcade together and…” he noticed her forlorn expression as she stared down at the letter, which was stained with tears. His face fell. “What happened?”
Nashiro only looked up at him with teary red eyes, sniffing.
Inasa walked over and sat by her side, ducking his head in to read the letter.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, Shiro. But that’s like, their loss, man. You know you’re too good for them, right?”
“If I were any good at all they’d have accepted me,” she said, voice wet and shaky with tears. She ran the back of her hand over her nose, sniffing again. “It’s because of my stupid fucking quirk. Maybe I should just give up already.”
But Inasa could never allow that. Yoarashis never gave up. Especially not Shiro. He’d always looked up to her due to her persistence, her tenacity, her unwavering strength. Even though their parents told her to find another career, she held onto her dream of becoming a pro hero. She insisted on it. When she wanted something, she went for it. She was just that kind of person.
He was profoundly sad to see his sister in such distress. He’d never seen her like that, so… defeated. His dark eyes trailed over to her desk, where three small figurines stood in a neat line; her favorite pro heroes. The first one, starting from the left, was Eraserhead, an underground hero so obscure that to that day, he still had no idea how Nashiro got her hands on that figurine. But then again, she was a hero nerd through and through, so if someone could manage that feat, it was certainly her.
The next one was Hawks, who had also been her first crush, although she’d never admit that out loud. He still remembered how she’d spend hours late at night watching his interviews and giggling at his charming ways, blushing at his easy smiles, staring at the TV with dreamy eyes.
But her biggest obsession had always been Miruko, the last hero in line. A fearless, even reckless pro hero who handled the most violent villains with a fierce, perhaps slightly deranged smile on her face, and a snarky remark on her tongue. She had always been Nashiro’s greatest role model…
And then it hit him.
“Hey,” he said, tone indicating that he just had an idea. “You’ve always been obsessed with Miruko because of her fighting skills, right?”
Nashiro sniffed again, still frowning at the letter. “Yeah.”
“Maybe you should be that kind of hero,” he said. “You’ve been focusing on your quirk all this time, when you have something much more valuable up your sleeve! You’re already the best fighter in our class, and you’re even better than some of the third-years,” he knew that for a fact, because she had picked fights with the third-years before and won (well, most of the time). “You’re just like Miruko, a fighter at heart! Let’s get mom and dad to hire a good instructor for you!”
“But they don’t even want me to get into U.A…”
“I’ll help you convince them,” Inasa said dutifully. “This is your dream, and I’m not letting you give up on it!”
She finally looked up at him, her big red eyes becoming a little hopeful.
Maybe she could still do it. Yes, she would train hard, and then she would train harder, and she would prove to U.A. that she was good enough for them.
This time, she wouldn’t let her brother down. She wouldn’t let herself down.
She wouldn’t allow herself to fail. Not again.
Because the Yoarashis didn’t raise a quitter.
The next few months would come to be known as the craziest in recent history.
The leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, turned into an even greater threat than everyone had imagined. After defeating Re-Destro and merging his organization with the Meta Liberation Army, therefore forming the Paranormal Liberation Front, it was clear that Japan was heading into a war—the first great war ever since the era of quirks began.
Nashiro’s parents had become terribly concerned and fearful, as if they’d been personally attacked by the villains. They even talked about moving out of the country, which was, in Nashiro’s humble opinion, a bit of an overreaction. But when she asked about why they were so afraid, they either said vague things like “everyone should be afraid of them” or merely refused to elaborate, falling into a suspicious silence and exchanging solemn, knowing looks.
But after they all saw Shigaraki defeat and kill the number one American hero Stars and Stripes, Nashiro could see where they were coming from.
It had come to such a dire point that they were now sending students to war. U.A. had become a battleground, and a few cities had already been destroyed. When Shiketsu’s principal agreed to send a few of his strongest, most talented students to help, Nashiro had insistently tried to follow, but her parents didn’t allow her to go. Of course, they let Inasa go, but not her; never her.
And so, all she could do was helplessly watch the war unfold from the TV, hating that she wasn’t doing something, anything. Hating herself and her stupid, pathetic quirk.
But in the end, she wasn’t really needed.
The war came to an end when a young student from U.A. called Midoriya Izuku defeated Shigaraki Tomura all on his own. Before that, another U.A. prodigy had also shined as he defeated All For One; Bakugou Katsuki, codename Dynamight. With the efforts of those two young men, and the efforts of so many more brave students, the war was brought to an end.
All of the quirks that had been stolen by All For One returned to their original owners after his death. Thankfully, there weren’t many casualties from the hero side. There were, of course, those who were wounded for life and would never fully recover. Miruko lost an arm and a leg, but took everyone by surprise by getting prosthetic limbs and assuring the public that she would not be retiring anytime soon; “As long as these lungs of mine keep workin’, those villains haven’t seen the last of me!”
Endeavor’s eldest son, Todoroki Touya—who had adopted the villain codename Dabi—, had disappeared after a battle with his brother Shouto, and the police presumed him dead after the many fatal wounds he sustained from the fight. Spinner, Mr. Compress and Iceman were on the run, having escaped before the pro heroes could get their hands on them.
Midoriya, who was now better known as the new number one hero Deku, decided to keep up with his studies along with his classmates, even though many claimed that they were already pros and didn’t need to finish their education.
After all of the corruption regarding the Hero Public Safety Commission was leaked, a new president was nominated. Hawks, who had been groomed to assume the position from a young age, decided to back off and keep working at his agency. Soon after, he hired Lady Nagant, who had been forgiven for the crimes she’d committed in the Commission’s name. Nashiro grew to admire that woman deeply after learning about everything she went through—and to admire Hawks even more after seeing his blatant support for her.
Oh, and now Eraserhead was famous. It was such a crazy concept to grasp. For years, Nashiro had been among the very few people who even knew that Eraserhead and Aizawa Shouta were she same person— and that was because she was a damn hero nerd (and well, more than a little obsessed with the man in question, if she cared to admit). Now he was a war hero, and although most people still gave him grief for being as charismatic as a grumpy old cat, he was pretty well-liked by the general public. He even moved up in the Hero Billboard Chart.
The one thing that had remained the same for Nashiro was her training schedule. After the war was over, her parents had reluctantly agreed to let her try another transfer application to U.A. the next year, and even hired a new martial arts instructor for her—none other than the best of the country, a very famous man who also happened to be quirkless. He was just perfect.
She focused on her training as though she depended on it to survive; as if the mixed martial arts had become the very air she breathed. She practiced day and night, until she was breathless and bruised, until her limbs were sore and gave out, until her heart felt like it was beating too fast—and then she practiced some more.
Because the thing was, she still had one more year, one more chance at entering U.A. And she would be damned if she didn’t try one last time.