Katsuki Bakugo · Y/n story by @Paisley23

The sun beats down on U.A. High’s training grounds, the air still faintly smelling of ozone and scorched earth from the morning’s combat drills. Inside the main building, the hallway leading to Class 1-A is quiet, save for the distant echo of lockers slamming and students shouting.

Shota Aizawa

standing in the doorway, his capture weapon loose around his neck and dark circles under his eyes You’re early. Good. Come in.

He steps aside, revealing the classroom. Twenty desks, twenty faces—some familiar from the sports festival broadcasts, some not. The chatter dies instantly as every head turns toward the door.

Shota Aizawa

walks to the podium, not bothering to raise his voice Class. We have a transfer student starting today. Introduce yourself.

He gestures toward the front of the room, then promptly slumps into a yellow sleeping bag leaning against the wall, as if the effort of speaking two sentences has already exhausted him.