"Well, hello, Japan. Good morning to you all. Today, we have some shocking news."The announcer's voice was calm, but the tension he was building was thick. "Just yesterday, U.A. High School was the target of a coordinated attack during a routine rescue training exercise. A group of villains swarmed the Unforeseen Simulation Joint—also known as the USJ—while students from Class 1-A and 1-B were present."
I watched as the anchor paused, their smile fading into a thoughtful frown as they stared down at the papers on the desk.
"Now, this raises some serious questions. Is U.A. truly safe? Could another attack be coming? And most importantly—will these villains be found and brought to justice for what they've done?"
A beat passed. Then, with a practiced smile and a slight nod:
"I'm **** *******, and this has been your daily morning news here in Japan. Stay safe out there."
And just like that, the screen cut to the weather report. I didn't bother watching it as my mind drifted, zoning out as I turned to the window.
The sun was rising over Japan, marking a brand new day, completely uncaring of the one that came before it.
I had woken up just a few minutes ago, but yesterday's memories had already started to fill my head like water getting poured into a cup. I saw flashes of my clash with the Nomu, the echoes of Kendo screamed.
I glanced down at my arm, now wrapped in fresh bandages. It had healed surprisingly well—just some lingering soreness, like a dull reminder that it all actually happened. I'm guessing Recovery Girl healed me with the speed of my recovery.
From the way the room looked, the sterile white walls, the faint scent of antiseptic, and the "Stay Strong Future Heroes!" posters taped up with way too much optimism, I knew where I was. The U.A. infirmary. The only thing that confirmed my guess was the giant glass cup full of lollipops.
I had no IV attached—just a hospital gown and my underwear. The soreness in my arm had dulled, and the bandages looked cleaner than they should have. Definitely Recovery girl's doing.
The room felt still, almost too still. I pushed myself up from the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. The silence wrapped around me like a heavy fog. It made me paranoid.
I walked slowly to the window, drawn to the soft morning light. For a second, I let myself breathe. But that second didn't last.
The Memories of yesterday struck hard. The Nomu—towering, monstrous came to my mind, and although I didn't want to admit it, it scared me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image burned in the dark behind my eyelids.
'I can't believe I pulled it off…' I whispered in my head. There was a flicker of pride in the words, sure—but it was shaky, like it didn't quite belong. I was starting to believe it was all luck on my part.
The truth is, I chose a bow for a reason. I never liked close combat. It's too unpredictable. Too messy. You don't get time to think. One second of hesitation, and you're down. After all, just a few months ago, I was a part-time worker; I hadn't fought a day in my life. I lived a normal life without worrying about death or 'villains'.
A bow gave me space, time to breathe, and even make a plan. All things I liked and loved. At least, that's what I used to think.
Now, the Nomu reminded me that in a real fight, there's no such thing as distance. No comfort zone. No time to decide how you want the fight to play out. You either adapt…or you lose. Unfortunately, I wasn't no Isagi Yoichi. And because of that I almost lost.
I stared down at my hands, still trembling slightly. I was...
My thoughts were cut off as the door slid open with a quiet whoosh. My head snapped up, heart skipped a beat. I braced myself for Recovery Girl or maybe Vlad king—but instead, someone I never expected to see here stood frozen in the doorway.
It was my sister.
She looked stunned for a second, eyes locked on mine. Then, like something inside her snapped free, she ran forward.
"Shoda!" she cried, her voice cracking with emotion as she threw her arms around me. The impact nearly knocked me off balance, but I didn't care.
"I'm so glad you're okay!" she choked out, burying her face in my shoulder. I felt my hospital gown getting damp from her tears, her small frame trembling as she held onto me. It was nice.
A smile tugged at my lips as I hugged her back just as tightly.
"of course I'm okay, just who the hell do you think you're talking to?" I joked softly.
She didn't answer—just clung tighter. Tough crowd, I guess.
Behind her, I noticed movement in the doorway. My parents stood there, breathless. My mother's eyes were glassy with tears, and my father's shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but the relief on both their faces was undeniable.
Mom didn't waste a second. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around both me and my sister, squeezing like she wanted to take all the pain away in one embrace.
"You're really okay…" she whispered, over and over.
My dad approached more slowly, eyes locked on mine. He didn't cry—he never really did—but the way his mouth curled into that rare, warm smile of his said more than words ever could.
"Glad to see you're okay, kiddo," he said, voice soft, like he was scared speaking too loud would break the moment. And with that, he hugged me as well.
I nodded, swallowing hard, embracing my entire family. Yeah. I was okay. Physically, at least, but deep down, I knew I couldn't let them see how much I wasn't. It seemed the fear the Nomu put in me made me rethink many, many things. But that's something I should worry about another time.
For now, let me enjoy this.
Let me just let time pass...
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After my family left, Recovery Girl came in not long after. She gave me a brief rundown of everything I'd missed. There was no school today— because of the incident obviously—but classes would resume tomorrow. Thankfully, she said I'd be cleared to go home and that my arm would be fully healed by then.
Before she left, she gave me a gentle pat on the back and said, "Good job. You fought well against whatever caused you this."
Those words got stuck to me longer than I expected.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully—at least on the outside. Inside, my mind kept drifting back to the fight. The Nomu. The helplessness. The fear. The anger. Whenever I thought I could relax, it would hit me again like a wave crashing against a fragile wall.
I felt restless as the sun began to set, painting the sky with a warm hue. I changed into some clothes and decided to go for a run—just to clear my head.
But before I could step outside, my dad stopped me at the door, holding out a small, folded sticky note.
"I almost forgot," he said casually. "yesterday… There was a girl with orange hair. She stayed by your side for most of the day until the nurse kicked her out."
He handed me the note with a soft smile. "She gave me this. Asked me to pass it to you. Sweet girl, by the way.
My expression softened as I unfolded the small note.
"Call me when you wake up."
Beneath the message was a phone number scribbled in neat handwriting.
I stared at it for a moment, then slowly looked back at my dad with a deadpan stare. "How could you forget to give me this?"
He just laughed, an easygoing chuckle escaping his lips. "Can you blame me? My son was attacked." he said, patting my shoulder before walking off like it was nothing. The man truly did not care.
I let out a quiet sigh at his antics, then pulled out my phone and entered the number. It rang a few times before I heard a gentle voice on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hey… Kendo." I said, suddenly realizing I had no idea what to say next.
There was a pause.
"…Shoda?" Her voice cracked slightly, like she didn't believe it was me.
"The one and only." I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face.
"Are you o-okay?" she stuttered, her voice soft and full of emotion.
"Yeah, I'm good," I replied. "Actually… I was about to go for a run. Wanna meet up?"
There was a pause again, I could hear her mind twisting.
"Where?"
"**** Park," I told her.
She didn't say another word instead, she just hung up. Someone's excited.
Just like that, I began making my way.
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As I walked through the quiet park, the soft rustle of wind through the trees accompanied my footsteps. My eyes landed on a familiar figure sitting alone on a bench—a cute girl with bright orange hair, her head bowed slightly, gaze lost in her lap.
I approached slowly, my heart beating just a little faster with each step. When I was only a few feet away, her eyes lifted. The moment they met mine, everything else seemed to pause. A warm silence grew between us.
The night breeze picked up gently, sending a swirl of cherry blossoms through the air. Their delicate petals danced around us, their soft pink tones muted under the starlit sky.
Black Cherry blossoms.
She didn't say anything. Neither did I. But in that stillness, surrounded by falling petals and unspoken feelings, it felt like we understood everything that needed to be said.
She stood up from the bench, her eyes gleaming with relief as they flickered down to my bandaged arm. A small smile tugged at her lips, but when her gaze met mine, something shifted. It was like she saw something buried deep—something I hadn't even figured out yet.
The silence between us grew heavier.
Each step she took toward me brought back flashes—her voice calling out as she chased after me, the fear that clung to me like a gun pointed at my head..
Then, finally, she was right in front of me.
Without saying a word, her arms wrapped around me—soft, slow, and sure—like vines finding their way home. "It's okay… you're okay now," she whispered against my chest, her voice trembling like a fragile note in the wind.
My hands shook, but I returned the hug without hesitation, arms winding tightly around her, pulling her as close as I could. I held her like she was the only thing anchoring me to the world.
And in that moment… she was.
For the first time today, I felt it—real peace. No fear clawing at my chest, no regret whispering in my ear. Just stillness.
Just her.
And in that stillness, wrapped in her arms beneath the quiet night sky, everything felt... right.
With my heart finally steady, my mind began to clear. And in that clarity, a bitter truth surfaced: I had taken my abilities for granted. I thought I could make a difference…
But all I did was slow others down. I was a burden. And that reality stung deeper than any wound. I need to be stronger. Not just skilled. Not just fast. Stronger.
At first, I saw Shigaraki as just another villain—another obstacle to overcome. But now…
Now it was personal.
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"SHODA!!!"
"Dude, I'm so glad you're okay!"
"Holy shit, I thought you were dead, man. I almost cried."
"Be more careful, President..."
His classmates rushed to him the moment he stepped into the classroom, voices overlapping, energy buzzing. Questions, jokes, and worried comments flew at him from every angle.
They surrounded him—not out of curiosity, but out of care.
Every single one of them knew Shoda. Not just as the class president but as a friend, a classmate, and someone they could count on. And right now, they were just glad he was okay.
Shoda smiled, a genuine one, and answered each of their questions with patience and gratitude. He scanned the room, quietly relieved to see every face accounted for—none of them injured. They were all safe.
"Alright, alright—everyone settle down." Vlad King's voice cut through the noise as he limped into the classroom. All eyes turned toward him… and widened in shock.
"WHOA! You sure you should be teaching right now?" Tetsutetsu blurted out, concern painted all over his face.
Everyone sweat-dropped as they took in Vlad King's condition—his face was covered in bandages, and a bulky cast wrapped around one of his legs.
Vlad gave a gruff chuckle. "I've had worse. Now, everyone to your seats—I've got an announcement to make."
The class quickly settled, the room falling into a respectful silence.
"First of all," he began, voice steady but warm, "I want to say how proud I am of all of you. The way you fought, the courage you showed out there, that's what being a hero is all about."
His gaze drifted across the room, then landed on Shoda.
"Shoda," he continued, his tone shifting just slightly, "you did well. You took initiative in a moment where hesitation could've cost lives. That takes guts. But—" he paused, "you also let your emotions take over. Shooting at the villain may have felt right at the moment, but it wasn't the smartest move. Your goal should've been to stall, distract, buy time for the pros to arrive."
Shoda lowered his head slightly, taking in the words.
"Still," Vlad added with a small smile, "I'm proud of what you did. You prevented me and Eraser head from getting injured any further. You acted. That's the kind of instinct a hero needs."
"Now, onto more important news," Vlad King continued, his tone shifting with weight. "The U.A. Sports Festival is just around the corner."
Some students stirred in their seats, surprised.
"I know what you're thinking—it should be canceled after the attack. But it's quite the opposite. U.A. is moving forward, and this festival will be our way of showing the world that we won't back down. That even in dark times, we stand tall."
He paused for a moment to let the message sink in before continuing.
"This is your chance—not just to compete but to shine. To show the pro heroes, the public, and even yourselves what you're capable of. It's more than just a sports festival now... it's a statement."
And just like that, with Vlad King finishing his speech, a new goal appeared in the hearts of Class 1-B: to show the world who they were in 3 weeks. it was time to even prove to themselves who they were.
The school day passed uneventfully right after—at least, until it was over.
A crowd of students had gathered outside the classroom, murmuring with curiosity and excitement. They weren't just random onlookers. These students came to see something specific.
"What the hell? What's with the crowd?" Manga exclaimed, blinking in surprise.
"They're looking to see what the class that fought off villains is made of," Honenuki answered coolly, stepping up beside Shoda.
Shoda narrowed his eyes, scanning the crowd before his gaze settled. "I see some familiar faces hiding in there."
Everyone turned to follow his line of sight. Among the students stood Izuku Midoriya, flanked by several others from Class 1-A, half-shielded by the crowd but unmistakably present.
"Oi! Now that you've all seen what you wanted, scram," Shoda said, waving his hand dismissively toward the crowd, clearly annoyed.
The students hesitated, murmuring among themselves—until a calm voice cut through the noise.
"So this is the class that fought off villains, huh?"
A student with messy purple hair and half-lidded eyes stepped forward, slipping through the crowd with lazy confidence. His tone was dry, almost bored, but there was a sharpness behind it.
"Gotta say… besides the guy with the bandaged arm, the rest of you look like you just took a stroll through the park."
A few Class 1-B students bristled at the jab, but the purple-haired boy kept talking, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"And with that attitude you're giving off," he glanced at Shoda, "I'm honestly disappointed in what the hero course has to offer."
He paused, eyes locking with Shoda's. "But hey, none of it matters. The U.A. Sports Festival is coming up—and it'll be the perfect opportunity for kids in other courses to step up and steal your spotlight."
His expression was bland, the corners of his mouth barely rising. "And I plan to be one of them."
Shinsou held his glare, daring and unflinching—until Shoda stepped forward.
Hands tucked in his pockets, Shoda met his eyes with a cold intensity. He tilted his head slightly, not out of confusion or amusement, but with an edge that spoke louder than words. As he closed the distance between them, the crowd around them fell silent.
"If you wanna take our spot," Shoda said, voice calm and steady, "then do me a favor…"
He brushed past Shinsou, leaning in just enough for the words to land.
"Be ready to take on forty kids all aiming for the top."
A chill ran down Shinso's spine as Shoda walked away without a glance back. Around him, every member of Class 1-A and 1-B stared him down—not with hostility, but with a shared understanding.
They weren't going to hand over anything.
"Good luck, buddy. You'll need it," Honenuki added with a half-smile, patting Shinsou's shoulder as he passed.
Monoma chuckled. "Take my spot? I'd love to see you try." After all, he couldn't believe someone who didn't even make it to the hero course wanted to take his spot.
Shoda approached the students of Class 1-A, his earlier intensity gone, replaced with a genuine smile. "I'm glad to see you all okay," he said warmly, his voice calm and composed.
The crowd of lingering students began to disperse, sensing this wasn't the moment to linger or interrupt.
"Y-Yeah!" Izuku responded quickly, clearly still adjusting to the sudden shift in Shoda's demeanor. "We were just checking up on you." He gave a friendly smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh! I'm Izuku Midoriya, but you can just call me Deku."
Shoda nodded. "Nirengeki Shoda," he replied, offering a polite dip of his head before his eyes drifted across the other nearby members of Class 1-A. He scanned their faces—curious, observant, not with judgment but with a quiet, assessing interest.
"Well, if that's all, then I'll excuse myself. I have somewhere to be," Shoda said, his voice steady as he walked past them.
The few Class 1-A students there turned slightly, their eyes following his back as he strode away. In that quiet moment, they each came to a similar conclusion—he wasn't rude or cold, just... distant. Passive, even. Like someone who kept his walls up around people he didn't know yet.
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Walking into the support course workshop, Shoda found the room almost empty—just two students were inside. Mei Hatsume, hunched over scribbling some notes on a notebook, and another girl with soft brown hair who barely glanced up from her project.
Casually approaching Mei's workstation, Shoda smirked. "Yo. Feels like forever since I've seen you."
Mei froze for a split second before turning around, goggles pushed up on her head. Her eyes widened with recognition. "Shoda?! I heard you got hurt! Are you okay?"
Without waiting for an answer, she immediately began examining him, poking and prodding his arms and shoulders like a mechanic checking for dents. Personal space meant nothing to her. Shoda didn't care at all, for some odd reason.
Shoda just chuckled, letting her do her thing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Came to stop by, talk about a few things... and show you I'm still alive."
He grabbed a chair and spun it backward, straddling it as he settled in. Mei did the same thing as she sat across from Shoda.
"So, how was the suit?" Mei asked, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook, pen already poised to write.
Shoda leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, eyes thoughtful. "The suit was good, but the arm braces didn't cut it. I need something that fully supports my arms—something sturdier. I've decided to start training in martial arts, so close combat and impact will put a lot more strain on me."
He paused, then leaned forward. "So, instead of simple braces, I want full arms covering. However, I don't want you to take away the arm braces if anything one is already a grappling hook. So make the other one have a hidden retractable blade and also a built-in magnetic field—something that can pull my shurikens and arrows back to me after I fire them."
Mei's pen flew across the page, matching his pace perfectly. She was writing down his words to have them while she created his vision.
"Also," Shoda added, "my boots could use jet propulsion for speed and agility. Maybe even a similar jet system on my lower back—something that'll boost mobility and aerial support as well, like what if I fall off a building or something."
Shoda and Mei spent the next hour or two deep in discussion, bouncing ideas off each other, refining the changes to his suit. Diagrams were drawn, features debated, and materials listed. Time seemed to blur with every sketch and every idea that clicked into place.
By the time they wrapped up, the sun had dipped low, painting the workshop in a soft amber glow.
"Well, that was definitely productive," Shoda said with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. "I should probably head home before my mom sends a search party."
Just as he turned to leave, Mei spoke up—her voice softer than usual. "Shoda, wait. There's something I need to tell you."
He looked back at her, curious. "What is it?"
She stared at him for a moment, eyes a lot more dangerous than usual. "You're my lab rat now," she said, her tone holding a sudden seriousness. "So make sure you don't die on me. Got it?"
For a brief second, her gaze intensified, wild and unblinking, almost manic. Shoda blinked, a nervous bead of sweat forming on his temple.
"You got it," he replied quickly.
'whoa what the fuck was that?!' Shoda yelled in his mind as he walked away. He realized that Mei may have more to her personality than he had originally seen before.
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Sweat dripped down Shoda's face as he hammered the punching bag again and again, each strike more precise than the last. His eyes burned with focus, every movement fueled by grit and determination. He had exactly 3 weeks until the U.A. Sports Festival—and he planned to use every second to push his body to its absolute limit. That's why he joined a kickboxing class. He needed to train his martial arts, and this was the best style that would suit him currently with his quirk.
From across the gym, an older man approached. His snow-white hair was combed forward, though a receding hairline was impossible to hide. Thick white eyebrows framed sharp blue eyes, and deep wrinkles lined his stern face. He didn't need to say much—his presence alone commanded attention. Shoda had seen him before. One of the few who owned the gym, the man rarely gave advice, but when he did, it was worth listening to. Though Shoda didn't know that yet.
"Punch it again," the man ordered, his voice firm and gravelly.
Shoda paused, side-eyeing him briefly. He recognized the authority in his voice and obeyed without question, driving his fist into the bag with a clean, solid thud.
"Again."
Another punch—this time harder, the bag jerking violently from the impact.
"Now... twist your core. Follow through with your entire body."
Shoda nodded, inhaled deeply, and tightened his stance. He hardened his core, twisted his torso with the motion, and launched his punch. The result was immediate—the bag jolted back even further, swaying like it had been hit by something far heavier than a teenage boy.
The man's expression remained unreadable, however, the edges of his lips seemed to have slightly curled upward.
"Why are you here?" the man asked flatly, his expression unreadable.
Shoda stood upright, meeting his gaze without flinching. "To get stronger."
The man let out a dry chuckle, a disappointed grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, no shit. Now tell me the real reason."
Shoda paused for a moment before answering, his voice steady but low. "I go to U.A. High School. I'm training to be a hero. At first, I thought using a bow as my support gear would be enough—I figured I could keep my distance and still win. But now I know... I need more than just arrows to become what I want to be."
There was a fire in his eyes as he spoke, not loud, but fierce.
"You're afraid," the man interrupted, causing Shoda's eyes to twitch slightly.
"I've seen kids like you," he continued. "Smart. Calculated. The type that thinks if you plan everything, you won't get hurt. You're scared of getting close—scared of what'll happen if things go off-script. Something must've messed you up real bad to push you into this gym."
Shoda didn't reply, but the way his jaw clenched confirmed everything.
The man's tone hardened. "Ha! Well, I don't care about your story. You've got potential. The way you move, your perception—it's sharp. I'd be a damn fool to let a talent like that go to waste. I'll help you. I'll make sure that some little trauma doesn't ruin you; I'll make you devour it. The hard way. By giving you more to withstand."
He extended a hand. "What's your name, kid?"
"Nirengeki Shoda."
"Pleasure to meet you, Shoda... I'm Yu."