Inside, rows of desks had been pushed against the walls. A few chairs were arranged in a semicircle near the front. Aizawa stood beside his podium, arms crossed, capture scarf hanging loose around his neck.

Students trickled in one by one, each accompanied by a parent or guardian. Uraraka arrived with her parents, both bowing deeply to Aizawa. Iida’s mother walked stiffly beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. Bakugo’s mother strode in like she owned the room, arms crossed and eyes sharp as her son’s.

And Y/n walked in alone.

You took your usual seat near the window, back straight, hands folded on the desk. You didn’t look at the door. You didn’t glance at the clock.

You just sat there. Waiting.