The campus was a sprawling thing—glass and steel and concrete, hero statues lining the walkways, banners with faces of famous alumni flapping in the warm breeze. American flags hung next to hero association flags. Everything was bigger here. Louder. Purpose-built for spectacle.

And right now, the spectacle was U.A.'s arrival.

The bus doors hissed open. Faculty stepped out first—a tired-looking man with dark hair pulled back, wearing what looked like a yellow sleeping bag slung over one shoulder. Beside him, a tall, gaunt figure in a cream suit. Too thin. Hollow-cheeked. But you recognized the shape of those shoulders, the angle of that jaw from a hundred news broadcasts.

All Might.

A ripple went through the watching students. Phones raised. Someone gasped.

Then the U.A. students filed out.

They walked in loose clusters, backpacks slung over shoulders, eyes scanning the unfamiliar environment with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness. A boy with explosive blonde hair and a permanent scowl. A girl with floating gravity-defying brown hair. A guy with red and white split hair, expression blank as a mannequin. A boy in a high-collared costume with a birdlike head, dark feathers rustling. A lanky, tired-eyed boy with messy purple hair who looked like he'd rather be asleep. And in front, practically vibrating with barely contained excitement—

Behind you, someone muttered—