Two dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at you. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating rows of polished desks and the diverse group of teenagers occupying them. At the front of the room, a man in a black jumpsuit lay cocooned in a yellow sleeping bag, only his tired, dark-circled eyes visible.

You could feel it—the weight of their collective curiosity. A boy with fluffy green hair and freckles near the front watched you with an open, nervous intensity. Beside him, a spiky blonde boy with sharp red eyes glared, his scowl deepening as if your mere presence was a personal insult. A girl with pink skin and yellow horns smiled widely, giving you a subtle, encouraging thumbs-up from her desk. Another with long, dark hair kept her gaze lowered, but her posture was rigid, attentive.

The podium at the front of the class waited. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the U.A. campus and the faint rustle of Aizawa-sensei’s sleeping bag.