Blackout Saint (MHA fanfic)

[Lissixat]

A03 is down and i wanna see if my fanfic will do well on here, ive been posting on qoutev but its a dead place now...
i hope yall enjoy :3
(only posting 6 chapters right now and seeing where it goes!!)

Chapter 1: A face from somewhere

The first thing Katsuki Bakugo noticed about the new transfer student was that Aizawa had been talking about her for almost four minutes without actually telling the class anything useful.

"She'll be joining the hero course effective immediately," Aizawa said, standing at the front of Classroom 3-A with his usual exhausted expression, one hand buried in the pocket of his black pants and the other holding a thin folder that looked as though he'd rather set it on fire than explain its contents. "She's already completed the necessary evaluations. Her academic records have been reviewed, and she'll be participating in your regular coursework and practical exercises. I expect you to treat her like any other student. That means no unnecessary interrogations, no making assumptions about her ability based on her quirk, and no treating this like some kind of entertainment." He paused, his tired eyes moving across the room. "I'm specifically looking at you, Kaminari." "WHY ME?" Kaminari demanded, immediately sitting up straighter in his chair. "Because you were already whispering about whether she's pretty," Jirou replied, not even bothering to turn away from the window. "I was asking a completely normal question!" "You asked whether transfer students come with a mysterious backstory and a tragic past." "That is a normal question when you go to a school where half the people have almost died at least once!" "He's got a point," Kirishima admitted from the desk beside him. "No, he doesn't," Iida said, chopping one hand through the air with the rigid authority of someone who had spent the last several years trying to make his classmates behave like respectable future heroes. "We should welcome our new classmate without making intrusive assumptions about her personal history!" "Thanks, Four Eyes," Bakugo muttered, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Now shut up." "BAKUGO!" "What?" Bakugo snapped. "I said shut up, not start a damn speech." "And I would appreciate it if you could refrain from insulting your classmates before our new student has even arrived!" "You want me to insult you after she gets here? Fine by me." Across the room, Midoriya sighed into his hand, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he watched the familiar argument unfold. It was their final year at U.A., and somehow, despite everything they'd survived, the class had retained the remarkable ability to turn even the most ordinary school morning into a complete disaster. They were older now, more experienced, and far more aware of what the world expected of them. The scars left by their previous battles had not disappeared simply because the fighting had ended, and there were days when the responsibilities waiting for them beyond graduation felt considerably heavier than any of their textbooks. Still, there were moments like this when they could almost pretend they were ordinary students again. Almost. Midoriya glanced toward the empty desk Aizawa had indicated near the windows, his curiosity getting the better of him. A transfer into the hero course during their final year was unusual enough, but Aizawa's choice of words had been stranger than the announcement itself. Her evaluations had already been completed. Her records had been reviewed. There had been no mention of where she'd transferred from, and when Midoriya had asked about her quirk earlier that morning, Aizawa had given him a look that had ended the conversation before it could begin. That alone would have been enough to make him curious. The fact that Aizawa had specifically warned them against making assumptions made him even more curious. He reached for his notebook beneath his desk, then stopped himself. Don't start analyzing someone before you've even met them, he reminded himself, pushing the notebook away. Just say hello first. "You're doing the face again," Uraraka whispered from the seat beside him. Midoriya blinked. "What face?" "The one where you look like you're trying to solve a murder." "I'm not!" "You absolutely are," she said, smiling. "It's just a transfer student, Deku." "Right. Of course. I know that." "Then stop staring at the door." "I'm not staring at the door." "You've looked at it six times." "Seven," Todoroki added from the other side of him, his expression perfectly serious. Midoriya turned to look at him. "Why were you counting?" "You looked like you were going to ask." Before Midoriya could respond, the classroom door slid open. Aizawa stepped aside, and the girl standing in the hallway came into view.

She wasn't what Midoriya had expected. He couldn't have explained what he had expected, exactly, but the girl who walked into the classroom carried herself with a quiet confidence that made the room feel strangely smaller. Her hair was long and black, glossy beneath the overhead lights, framing a face made striking by sharp, carefully defined features, dark eyes, and dramatic makeup that gave her an almost permanently unimpressed expression. There was something gothic about her appearance, though it wasn't exaggerated or theatrical; it looked natural, like she'd never felt the need to dress or present herself for anyone else's approval. Her uniform had been adjusted to suit her style without violating the school's requirements, and the dark accessories she wore were understated enough to escape notice unless someone looked closely. She didn't smile when she entered. She didn't look frightened by the number of people staring at her, either. Her gaze moved across the classroom, taking in the rows of desks, the faces turned toward her, the sunlight falling across the floor. For the briefest moment, her eyes stopped on Midoriya. Something changed in her expression. It was so small that he might have imagined it: a flicker of uncertainty, a faint tightening around her eyes, a pause that lasted no more than a heartbeat. Then she looked away. Her gaze moved farther across the room and landed on Bakugo. This time, she stopped. Bakugo had been slouched in his chair, already prepared to dismiss the entire situation as a waste of his time, but something about the way she looked at him made his shoulders straighten almost imperceptibly. It wasn't fear. He knew what fear looked like, and he knew what it looked like when someone tried to hide it. This wasn't either of those things. She was staring at him as if she'd found something she hadn't expected to see. For one strange second, he had the uncomfortable sensation of standing somewhere other than a classroom, somewhere cold and dark, with an unfamiliar smell in the air and a distant sound he couldn't quite identify. Then the feeling disappeared so completely that it left him wondering whether he'd imagined it. The girl's eyes narrowed slightly, almost as though she'd experienced the same thing. Bakugo's expression hardened. The hell was that? "This is your new classmate," Aizawa announced, apparently oblivious to the brief, silent exchange. "Go ahead and introduce yourself." The girl turned toward the class. "I'm Y/N," she said. Her voice was lower than Midoriya had expected, calm and even, without the nervousness that usually accompanied introductions to an unfamiliar group. "I'll be joining you for the rest of the year. I expect we'll get along fine as long as nobody makes that unnecessarily difficult." There was a short silence. Then Kaminari leaned toward Sero and whispered, much too loudly, "Okay, she's cool." "You literally haven't spoken to her," Sero whispered back. "I don't need to. That was an excellent introduction." Mina, meanwhile, had leaned forward with an expression of immediate interest. "I love her hair." "Mina," Jirou murmured, "she's standing right there." "I know! I have a volume control!" "No, you don't," Jirou said. "You have a volume suggestion." A few students laughed, and the tension in the room eased. Y/N's expression barely changed, but something at the corner of her mouth suggested she had heard every word. Aizawa gestured toward the empty desk. "Take your seat. We'll discuss your schedule after class." She nodded once and crossed the room. As she passed Bakugo's desk, he caught a faint scent of something clean and dark, like rain on cold pavement, and felt that same inexplicable sensation tug at the back of his mind. His eyes followed her for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to look away. He hated unexplained things. They were inefficient, irritating, and usually the result of somebody withholding information they had no right to keep to themselves. Whatever was bothering him about this girl, he'd figure it out eventually. He always did. Y/N sat down, placed her bag beside her desk, and looked out the window as though the entire class had already ceased to interest her. But beneath the desk, her fingers had curled tightly into the fabric of her skirt. She knew that boy. She knew the explosive, sharp-edged presence of him, the way his voice cut through a room, the way something inside her had reacted when she'd seen his face. She knew the green-haired boy, too, although that recognition was somehow worse. She could almost remember a different room, a different light, the sound of someone speaking urgently in the distance. There had been a hand reaching toward her. There had been shouting. There had been something black spreading across a floor that wasn't supposed to be there. Then nothing. She inhaled slowly, counting the seconds as she'd taught herself to do whenever her thoughts threatened to slip beyond her control. One. Two. Three. By four, the memory had dissolved into the familiar blankness that followed every attempt to reach too far into her past. She lowered her hands into her lap and stared at the window until her reflection looked like nothing more than a stranger sitting in a classroom.

The first half of the morning passed without incident, which was precisely what made it so irritating when Bakugo realized he was paying attention to her. He had no reason to care about the transfer student. She wasn't talking to him, wasn't bothering him, and hadn't done anything particularly impressive beyond walking into a room full of aspiring heroes without looking as though she wanted to disappear into the floor. He should have been able to ignore her. Instead, he kept catching himself looking toward the window whenever the class went quiet. She barely took notes, yet when Aizawa asked a question about a hypothetical rescue scenario, she answered with an unsettling degree of precision. She didn't volunteer information unnecessarily, but she never seemed uncertain when she did speak. And when Kaminari dropped his pen and bent to retrieve it, she moved her foot out of the way before the pen even struck the floor. It was a tiny thing, so insignificant that nobody else noticed. Bakugo noticed. He noticed because he had seen the movement before—or thought he had. The angle of her foot, the timing, the way she'd anticipated something that hadn't happened yet. His jaw tightened. Across the room, Midoriya had noticed something else. When Aizawa mentioned the upcoming practical evaluations, Y/N's eyes had briefly shifted toward the door, not with excitement or apprehension, but with a sudden, unmistakable alertness. It was the look of someone who had heard a noise in a supposedly empty house. Her gaze lingered for a moment before she returned her attention to the lesson. Midoriya tried to tell himself that there were plenty of reasonable explanations. New school. New classmates. Unfamiliar environment. But the feeling of recognition from earlier hadn't gone away. It sat at the back of his mind like a half-remembered dream, just beyond the reach of conscious thought. He had met thousands of people over the years, many of them during the chaos surrounding the League of Villains and the battles that had reshaped their lives. He'd learned the hard way that memory could be unreliable under stress. Still, he couldn't shake the impression that he'd seen Y/N somewhere that wasn't a school. Somewhere important. Somewhere he should remember. At lunch, Mina made the decision that Y/N was joining them whether she liked it or not. "Okay, so, new girl," she announced, appearing beside Y/N's desk with Uraraka and Hagakure close behind her. "You're eating with us." Y/N looked up from the book she'd been reading. "Am I?" "Yes." "Was that a question?" "It was a very friendly demand." "Those are usually the worst kind." Mina stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing. "Oh, I really like you." Y/N blinked as though she hadn't expected that response. "That's unfortunate." "See? Funny, too!" "Mina," Uraraka said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile, "you can't just adopt every person who walks into the classroom." "Watch me." Within five minutes, Y/N had been escorted to the cafeteria, introduced to at least half the class, and informed of several deeply unnecessary details about their collective history. Kirishima explained which vending machines were most likely to steal your money. Kaminari attempted to convince her that his gaming recommendations were essential to surviving final year. Sero offered to show her around campus, while Iida apologized for the entire conversation every time someone interrupted another person. Todoroki asked whether she preferred soba or udon with the straightforward seriousness of someone conducting an important interview. Y/N answered his question, accepted a seat at the end of the table, and seemed content to let the conversation move around her without participating much. She was not unfriendly. She simply appeared to have a very particular limit for how much of herself she was willing to offer strangers. Bakugo arrived late, carrying his lunch with the expression of a man who had already been disappointed by the world several times that day. He stopped when he saw her sitting at the table. "You've got to be kidding me." "Good afternoon to you, too," Y/N replied without looking up. Kirishima made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh. Bakugo shot him a warning look before dropping into his usual seat. "Nobody asked you to sit here, extra." "Nobody asked you to talk to me, either." "Then quit answering." "Quit speaking." "You want to repeat that?" "I thought you heard me the first time." The table went silent for approximately two seconds before Kaminari slowly lowered his fork. "Oh, this is going to be incredible." "Don't encourage them," Jirou said, though she was watching with obvious interest. Bakugo leaned forward, red eyes narrowing. "You always this damn irritating?" "Only when people make it easy." "You think you're funny?" "Not particularly. You're just predictable." That did it. Kirishima actually choked on his drink, and Sero slapped a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Bakugo looked as though he was seriously considering whether getting suspended during their final year would be worth it. "Say that again." "Predictable," Y/N repeated, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "Do you need me to use a different word?" Midoriya watched them with a growing sense of unease that had very little to do with their argument. There was something strangely familiar about the way Y/N held Bakugo's gaze. She wasn't challenging him in the way most people did, trying to prove she wasn't intimidated. It was as though she knew exactly what he would do next. And Bakugo, who was normally very good at identifying when someone was bluffing, seemed unable to decide whether he wanted to prove her wrong or find out why she seemed so certain. "You're both exhausting," Todoroki observed, eating another bite of his lunch. "Thank you, Shoto," Iida said. "Finally, someone is attempting to restore order." "I wasn't helping you." "I realize that!" For the first time since entering U.A., Y/N smiled. It was brief and almost involuntary, a small crack in the cool expression she had worn all morning. Midoriya saw it. So did Bakugo. And for some reason, that tiny smile unsettled him more than anything else she'd done.

By the end of the school day, Y/N had been given her timetable, shown the location of the training grounds, and informed that Aizawa expected her to participate in the following morning's practical assessment. She was walking alone through one of the quieter corridors when she heard footsteps approaching behind her. She didn't turn around. "You always walk around like you're waiting for somebody to stab you in the back?" Bakugo asked. Y/N stopped. Slowly, she turned to face him. "You always follow people around when you have nothing better to do?" "I'm not following you." "Then we have something in common." His expression darkened. "Listen, I don't know what your deal is, and I don't particularly care. But you've been acting weird all day." "That's a compelling argument." "Don't get smart with me." "Then ask a smarter question." Bakugo took a step closer, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tense with the sort of irritation that usually preceded an explosion. Y/N didn't move. Up close, she could see the faint scars he'd accumulated over the years, the hard lines of someone who had been forced to grow up in circumstances that never gave him the option of remaining careless. She could remember the shape of his eyes. She could remember the sound of his voice. What she couldn't remember was why the sight of him made her chest hurt. "Have we met before?" he demanded suddenly. The question struck so close to something buried inside her that for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Bakugo noticed the change immediately. Her face had gone still, her eyes fixed on his with an intensity that hadn't been there before. "What?" he asked, more sharply now. "Have we met?" Y/N swallowed. "I don't think so." "That wasn't what I asked." "And I answered." He stared at her, searching for something in her expression that he couldn't identify. For one strange moment, the corridor seemed to grow darker around them. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, then steadied. Bakugo glanced up instinctively. When he looked back, Y/N was watching the shadows at their feet. They stretched across the floor in the wrong direction, thin black fingers reaching toward the space between them despite the overhead lights shining directly above. Then they snapped back into place. Y/N's expression changed so quickly that Bakugo might have missed it if he hadn't been staring at her. Fear. Not fear of him. Something deeper, sharper, and infinitely more familiar to her than it should have been. She took a step back. "Stay away from me," she said quietly. Bakugo's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." "You don't get to walk into my school, act like a damn mystery, and tell me what to do." "Then stop asking questions you don't want the answers to." She turned and walked away before he could respond, her pace controlled, her shoulders rigid. Bakugo stood in the corridor, staring after her, the familiar feeling from that morning returning with such force that his fingers curled into fists. He had no idea where he'd seen her before. He had no idea why she looked at him as though she was afraid of remembering. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty. Something was wrong with that girl. And he was going to find out what it was.

Y/N didn't stop walking until she reached the empty stairwell at the far end of the building. She pushed through the heavy door, descended one flight, and gripped the cold metal railing hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. Her breathing came too quickly. The lights above her hummed, and the shadows beneath the stairs gathered in dark, shifting pools that seemed to deepen every time she blinked. "Not now," she whispered. The darkness did not listen. It curled around the edges of the steps, thin tendrils moving like the limbs of something waking from a long sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against the railing as the pressure built behind them. For one terrible instant, she was somewhere else. A white room. Glass walls. The sharp sting of something in her arm. A voice speaking through a speaker, calm and detached, telling someone that the subject was responding. Another voice, farther away, shouting that they needed to stop. Then a sound like metal tearing apart. A door opening. Someone screaming her name. Not the name she had given the class that morning. Something else. Something she couldn't quite hear. Y/N jerked upright, choking on a breath. The shadows recoiled violently, snapping back beneath the stairs as though they had been struck. The lights stopped flickering. The stairwell returned to normal. She stood motionless for several seconds, waiting for her heart to slow, waiting for the memory to return, waiting for the familiar emptiness to settle over her thoughts. It always did eventually. It was the one thing she could rely on. She pressed trembling fingers against her eyelids and whispered the only words that had ever helped her through moments like this. "I am here. I am safe. I am here." She repeated them until the words became meaningless, then straightened her uniform, wiped her palms against the fabric of her skirt, and walked toward the exit. She didn't see the small black mark that remained on the concrete where her shadow had touched the floor. It looked almost like a handprint. By the time the last bell rang, the mark had disappeared.

Across campus, in an office that smelled faintly of old coffee and paper, Principal Nezu stood before a computer screen displaying Y/N's transfer file. The document was short, its information carefully organized, its gaps concealed beneath official terminology and a collection of signatures from people who had no reason to suspect anything unusual. Academic performance. Quirk evaluation. Medical clearance. Previous institution. The details were adequate for an ordinary student. They were not adequate for a girl whose arrival had required several private conversations with people Nezu trusted only conditionally. He scrolled to the final page, where a scanned image had been attached to the bottom of the file. It was an old photograph, poorly preserved, the edges darkened by age or damage. Most of the image was indistinct. A younger Midoriya stood on one side of the frame, his green hair unmistakable even through the blur. Bakugo was beside him, scowling at the camera with the same unmistakable expression he wore now. Between them stood a third figure, her face obscured by a band of black ink that had been drawn across the photograph. Nezu stared at it for a long time. Then he closed the file. Outside his office, U.A. continued as it always had. Students laughed in the hallways. Teachers prepared lesson plans. Somewhere in the dormitories, Kaminari was probably telling the others that the new girl was definitely going to become the most interesting person in their class. And in the city beyond the school's protective walls, a phone rang in a room where nobody had used a light in years. A man answered it. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then a voice on the other end spoke a single sentence. "We found her." The man closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was no surprise in his expression. Only a quiet, exhausted kind of dread. "No," he said. "You found where she is." He looked toward the darkened window, where the reflection of the room seemed just slightly wrong. "Now we have to make sure she never remembers what she is."

Chapter 2: Somthing in the dark

The following morning began with an explosion.

Not an actual explosion, thankfully, although considering the people involved, Midoriya had learned never to rule out the possibility. It was seven thirty in the morning, and the common room of Heights Alliance was already considerably louder than it needed to be. Kaminari was sprawled across one of the couches with his head hanging upside down, complaining that having practical training before breakfast should be considered a violation of human rights. Sero was attempting to balance a spoon on his nose, Kirishima was enthusiastically explaining something about morning workouts, and Mina had somehow convinced Uraraka to let her experiment with a new hairstyle. Iida was standing near the kitchen, loudly reminding everyone that they had exactly twenty-three minutes before they needed to leave for the training grounds. "Twenty-three minutes!" he repeated, adjusting his glasses. "That is more than enough time to eat a proper breakfast, prepare our equipment, and arrive without rushing!" "You say that like we're going to war," Kaminari mumbled. "Considering our training record, that isn't entirely inaccurate," Todoroki replied from the kitchen counter. "Why would you say that?" Midoriya asked, looking up from the notes he'd been reviewing. Todoroki shrugged. "Last time we trained with Bakugo, he blew up half the training area." "THAT WAS BECAUSE THE EXTRAS WOULDN'T MOVE!" Bakugo's voice came from the staircase. He appeared a moment later, already dressed and looking thoroughly irritated by the existence of everyone around him. "Maybe if you idiots actually knew how to fight, I wouldn't have to compensate for you." "Good morning to you, too, Bakugo!" Kirishima called. "Shut up." Midoriya glanced toward the entrance as the conversation continued. There was an unfamiliar absence in the room, something he had only begun noticing because of how much everyone had talked about the new student yesterday. Y/N wasn't there. He didn't know why that bothered him. She wasn't obligated to spend her mornings with them, and she hadn't exactly given the impression that she was particularly interested in making friends. Still, after the strange encounter in the hallway the previous afternoon, he'd found himself wondering whether she'd made it back to wherever she was staying. He was about to ask when Mina suddenly sat upright. "WAIT. Where's our new girl?" "Our new girl?" Jirou repeated. "You sound like you've adopted her." "I have." "You met her yesterday." "And?" "That's not how adoption works." "It is when I do it." Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached for a bottle of water. "Why the hell are we talking about her?" Mina's grin widened. "Someone's interested." "Finish that sentence and I'll throw you through a window." "See, that's exactly the kind of reaction I'm talking about." Kirishima laughed. "Come on, man. She's pretty cool." "She's annoying." "You've known her for one day." "One day was enough." Midoriya looked between them, his attention lingering on Bakugo for a moment. He remembered the way the two of them had stared at each other in the classroom, and then the way Bakugo had followed her into the corridor. He'd been meaning to ask him about it, but he suspected the conversation would end with an explosion and a very unpleasant explanation of why he should mind his own business. Before he could decide, the common room door opened. Y/N walked in.

She looked considerably more comfortable than she had the previous day, although her expression remained much the same. Her long black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and she wore a fitted black top beneath an open dark jacket, paired with black trousers and boots. There was something effortlessly put together about her appearance, even at that hour. She had a small bag slung over one shoulder and a paper cup of coffee in her hand. Her eyes moved across the room, briefly taking in the collection of students who had apparently decided to make the common area their permanent residence. "Morning," she said. Mina practically launched herself off the couch. "YOU CAME!" Y/N paused. "I did." "I wasn't sure if you were going to come down! I was starting to think you'd disappeared!" "I considered it." Jirou snorted into her drink. "She's funny." "I know!" Mina said, delighted. Y/N glanced at the clock. "Am I late?" "No!" Iida answered immediately. "We still have approximately eighteen minutes before departure." "Good." She took another sip of coffee and moved toward the kitchen. Kaminari watched her with open curiosity. "Okay, serious question. Are you always this calm?" Y/N looked at him. "Usually." "Even when you're angry?" "Especially then." "That's terrifying." "You should see me before coffee." Kaminari stared at her, then slowly turned toward Sero. "I think I love her." "You love anyone who doesn't insult your intelligence," Jirou said. "That's not true." "You cried when Todoroki called you a microwave." "IT WAS A VALID COMPARISON!" A small smile appeared on Y/N's face as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Midoriya noticed that she seemed to be listening more than she was speaking. Her eyes followed the conversation, and every so often she looked as though she was about to contribute something before deciding against it. There was nothing particularly strange about that. Plenty of people were quieter around unfamiliar groups. But when Bakugo passed behind her to reach the refrigerator, she shifted slightly before he came close enough to brush against her. It was the same instinctive movement he'd noticed yesterday. Precise. Almost anticipatory. Bakugo noticed it, too. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. "You're staring," Y/N said without turning around. "I'm looking at the damn fridge." "Then I hope you find what you're looking for." "I hope you learn when to shut up." "I hope you learn how to have a conversation." "I hope you—" "Okay!" Kirishima interrupted, stepping between them with a grin. "Let's save the fighting for training, yeah?" Bakugo clicked his tongue and grabbed his water. Y/N returned to her coffee. Neither looked particularly bothered by the exchange, although Midoriya couldn't help noticing that Bakugo's attention lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. It was becoming increasingly difficult to convince himself that he was the only one who found her familiar.

By the time the class reached Ground Beta, the morning sun had begun to warm the concrete structures surrounding the training area. Aizawa was already waiting near the entrance, accompanied by All Might, who had apparently been assigned to observe the practical assessments. "Good morning, young heroes!" All Might greeted them, his smile considerably brighter than the atmosphere warranted. "Today's exercise will be an opportunity to evaluate your current combat abilities, teamwork, and adaptability under pressure!" "Why does that sound like we're about to get our asses kicked?" Kaminari muttered. "Because we probably are," Sero answered. Aizawa glanced down at his clipboard. "Before we begin, there's something you need to see." He turned toward Y/N. "Your equipment arrived this morning. Go get changed." She nodded, picked up the black case that had been left beside the entrance, and disappeared into the changing facilities. Mina immediately leaned toward Uraraka. "Oh my God. She has a hero costume." "Most people in the hero course have hero costumes," Jirou reminded her. "I know, but I want to see it." "You want to see everyone's costume." "Exactly." Bakugo stood with his arms crossed, looking toward the changing room entrance. He wasn't particularly interested in what the transfer student wore. At least, that was what he told himself. A few minutes later, the door opened. The conversation around him gradually faded.

Her costume was almost entirely black, but it wasn't the simple, loose-fitting clothing he had expected. It was a fitted, high-collar combat suit made from a flexible, reinforced material that followed her movements without restricting them. The upper portion had subtle protective plating over the shoulders and ribs, with narrow segmented panels running down the sides of her torso and along her arms. A pair of fitted gloves extended past her wrists, leaving her fingers free to manipulate her quirk. The material around her forearms was reinforced, designed to withstand the strain of repeated shadow manifestations. A short, asymmetrical waist panel hung over the upper portion of her trousers, its edges resembling torn fabric without actually interfering with movement. Her boots were heavy-duty, reaching just below her knees, with reinforced soles and subtle metal detailing. A narrow utility belt sat at her waist, carrying emergency supplies and small support devices. The costume didn't have a cape, unnecessary accessories, or anything that would catch on her own constructs. It was sleek, intimidating, and distinctly hers. Her long black hair had been tied loosely back from her face, although several strands had escaped around her cheeks. Dark eye makeup framed her eyes, making her already sharp expression look even more severe. At her collar sat a small metallic emblem, a simple black circle split by a thin silver line. There was no visible hero name printed anywhere. "Okay," Mina said slowly. "That's actually incredible." "It looks like something a villain would wear," Kaminari remarked. "I mean that in a good way." "It suits her," Kirishima agreed. "Very intimidating. Very cool." Y/N glanced down at herself. "Thank you?" All Might smiled. "A very practical design! Excellent attention to mobility and protection." Aizawa looked at the costume for a moment before nodding. "Your support specifications were approved. The equipment around your wrists should help stabilize your manifestations. Don't exceed their recommended output until we've established your limits." "Understood." Bakugo clicked his tongue. "What, you need special equipment just to keep your quirk from eating you alive?" Y/N looked at him. "What, you need an audience every time you use yours?" Kirishima immediately turned away, shoulders shaking. "Oh, this is going to be a long year," Sero muttered. Aizawa rubbed a hand over his face. "Can we get through one assessment without either of you starting something?" "She's the one who—" Bakugo began. "I don't care," Aizawa interrupted. "Both of you. Quiet." That was enough to end the argument, although the looks they exchanged suggested neither considered the matter settled.

The exercise itself was straightforward in theory. Each student would be evaluated individually in a controlled combat scenario against a designated opponent, with additional environmental obstacles introduced to test their adaptability. Aizawa explained that the objective wasn't simply to defeat an opponent, but to demonstrate appropriate judgment, control, and awareness of surroundings. "Your quirks are tools," he said, looking across the class. "Not excuses to destroy everything in front of you. I want to see how you think, not how loudly you can attack." His eyes moved briefly toward Bakugo. "That includes you." "Tch." "We'll start with Midoriya and Todoroki." Midoriya stepped forward, adjusting his gloves as Todoroki joined him. Their match was fast, controlled, and considerably more technical than the battles they'd participated in during their earlier years. Midoriya used One For All to maneuver between the structures, while Todoroki controlled the terrain with carefully measured bursts of ice and fire. They were both experienced enough to anticipate each other's movements, and the match ended with Midoriya narrowly avoiding an ice formation before securing a clear advantage. All Might applauded, looking particularly pleased with his former student. "Excellent work!" "Thank you!" Midoriya replied, slightly breathless. The next several matches followed, with the usual mixture of impressive technique and occasional chaos. Kaminari nearly incapacitated himself, Mina managed to slip past an opponent with a clever use of her acid, and Kirishima took considerably more punishment than Aizawa appeared to approve of. Y/N watched all of it quietly. She paid attention to the way her classmates moved, the way their quirks interacted with the environment, and the way Aizawa evaluated them. She noticed that Midoriya favored his left side when landing from a particularly high jump, that Todoroki adjusted his stance before using his fire, and that Bakugo's movements were much less predictable than his aggressive fighting style initially suggested. He didn't simply charge at people. He forced them into positions where their options became limited, then attacked before they could recover. It was an effective strategy. An irritatingly effective one. "You're next," Aizawa said. Y/N looked up. "Against who?" "Bakugo." The reaction was immediate. Kaminari made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone witnessing the beginning of a natural disaster. Mina's eyes widened. Kirishima looked between the two of them. "Seriously?" "You have a problem with that?" Bakugo demanded, already stepping forward. "No," Y/N answered. "Just wondering if I should sign a waiver." Sero laughed. Bakugo turned toward her. "You think you're funny?" "I think you're loud." "Enough," Aizawa said. "Both of you. Training zone three. No lethal attacks, no intentional strikes to the head, and I want to see controlled output. Bakugo, don't treat this like a competition." "Then what's the point?" "The point is to demonstrate that you can follow instructions." "Tch." Y/N adjusted the straps around her gloves. "Sounds difficult for him." Aizawa stared at her. "You're not helping." "Sorry." She didn't sound particularly sorry.

Training zone three was a replica of a partially collapsed urban environment, complete with narrow alleyways, damaged structures, and several elevated platforms. The objective was simple: Bakugo would act as the opposing combatant, and Y/N would be evaluated on her ability to defend herself while navigating the environment. Aizawa and All Might stood behind the observation barrier, while the rest of the class gathered at a safe distance. Bakugo rolled his shoulders, small sparks already crackling in his palms. "Try not to embarrass yourself, transfer." Y/N stood several meters away, her hands resting loosely at her sides. "I'll try to keep up." "You better." The starting signal sounded. Bakugo moved first. An explosion erupted beneath his palm, propelling him forward with enough force to make the concrete beneath his feet crack. Y/N shifted sideways. The blast tore through the space where she'd been standing, scattering debris across the ground. Before Bakugo could follow up, a dark tendril snapped out from beneath her boot, curling around a broken piece of concrete and hurling it toward him. He destroyed it midair. "That's it?" he shouted. "You gonna throw rocks at me?" Another tendril emerged, this one aimed at his ankle. He blasted himself upward, twisted in the air, and launched a controlled explosion toward her position. Y/N raised one hand. The shadow beneath her stretched upward, expanding into a curved wall that absorbed most of the blast. The remaining force pushed her backward several steps. Her boots scraped against the concrete. For the first time, Bakugo looked genuinely interested. "So you can block." "I can do several things." "Then show me." He came at her again, faster this time. Y/N moved between two broken structures, darkness spilling from her fingertips and spreading across the ground. Bakugo followed, using short bursts to change direction midair. She raised a series of narrow shadow blades, forcing him to alter his trajectory, but he destroyed each one before they could reach him. He was fast. Faster than she'd expected. She ducked beneath another explosion, felt the heat pass over her hair, and extended her arm. The shadow beneath Bakugo's feet suddenly rose like a black hand, wrapping around his ankle. He twisted, detonating the ground beneath himself to break free. "Got you," he growled. "Almost," she replied. A second tendril snapped around his wrist. He tore through it with another explosion, but the momentary distraction gave her enough time to retreat behind a concrete pillar. Bakugo landed hard, grinning in a way that suggested he was finally enjoying himself. "Not bad." "I was worried you'd be difficult to impress." "Don't get ahead of yourself." He raised both hands. Y/N's eyes narrowed. She could feel the shadows around her, every dark corner and narrow gap in the ruined structure. They were responsive, familiar, and normally easy to control. But something about the intensity of Bakugo's explosions was making them restless. They moved beneath her skin like something stretching after a long sleep. She flexed her fingers. The shadows gathered. Then Bakugo attacked.

The explosion was larger than the previous ones. Not enough to violate the safety restrictions, but powerful enough to send a wave of heat and pressure through the training zone. Y/N raised both arms, and the darkness beneath her feet surged upward. It formed a massive, curved structure around her, resembling a pair of enormous wings folding inward. The blast struck it. For a fraction of a second, everything went white. Then the darkness swallowed the explosion. Not blocked it. Not redirected it. Swallowed it. The sound disappeared. The remaining heat vanished. Even the dust suspended in the air seemed to hang motionless. Bakugo landed several meters away, his expression shifting from aggression to confusion. The shadows surrounding Y/N were no longer moving like ordinary constructs. They stretched across the walls and floor, twisting into shapes that seemed almost anatomical. Long fingers. Bent limbs. Something resembling a jaw that disappeared when he tried to focus on it. Y/N lowered her arms slowly. Her breathing was uneven. "What the hell?" Kaminari whispered from behind the barrier. "Is that supposed to happen?" Jirou's earphone jacks twitched. "I can't hear anything." Aizawa straightened. His capture weapon shifted around his shoulders. "Y/N." She didn't answer. Her eyes had changed. The irises were almost entirely obscured by black, and thin, dark veins were beginning to spread from the corners of her eyes toward her temples. The shadows beneath her feet stretched farther. Too far. They reached the walls, climbed the structures, and curled around the concrete pillars. One of them moved toward Bakugo. Not in response to a command. It moved as though it had decided he was a threat. "Hey!" Bakugo shouted, raising one hand. "Get your damn shadows under control!" Y/N looked down at her fingers. "I'm trying." Another tendril shot across the ground. Bakugo blasted himself sideways, narrowly avoiding it. The tendril struck the wall behind him, leaving a deep black mark that didn't resemble any ordinary damage. Aizawa's eyes narrowed. His hair lifted as Erasure activated. "Y/N. Look at me." For a moment, nothing happened. Then the shadows trembled. The dark veins beneath her skin stopped spreading, and the enormous shapes behind her collapsed inward. The silence broke all at once, the ordinary sounds of the training grounds returning so suddenly that Kaminari flinched. Y/N staggered. One hand went to her forehead as she struggled to remain upright. Bakugo was the closest person to her. He caught her by the arm before she could hit the ground. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. She looked at his hand gripping her sleeve, then up at his face. "Let go." "You're about to fall over, idiot." "I said let go." He released her immediately, though his expression remained furious. Aizawa approached, his eyes still fixed on her. "Can you hear me?" Y/N nodded. "Good. Sit down." "I'm fine." "That wasn't a question." She hesitated, then lowered herself onto a nearby piece of concrete. All Might moved closer, his expression no longer cheerful. He looked toward the wall where the shadow had struck. The surface was intact, but a dark, hand-shaped stain remained embedded in the concrete. "Young Y/N," he began carefully, "have you experienced something like that before?" She stared at the mark. "No." "Are you certain?" "Yes." The answer came too quickly. Midoriya noticed. So did Aizawa. Bakugo was still standing a few feet away, staring at her with a look that had very little to do with irritation now. He'd seen powerful quirks before. He'd seen people lose control. He'd even seen abilities that behaved in ways that defied conventional explanation. But what had happened just now was different. For one brief moment, he'd felt something watching him from inside the darkness. Something that had known he was there. Something that had recognized him.

Aizawa called an end to the assessment and instructed the remaining students to return to the observation area. Y/N remained seated while Recovery Girl was contacted to examine her. She insisted several times that she didn't need medical attention, but Aizawa ignored every objection with the practiced indifference of a teacher who had dealt with far too many stubborn teenagers. Midoriya approached cautiously once the others had moved away. "Hey," he said. "Are you okay?" Y/N looked up. "I'm fine." "You don't really look fine." "That's because you're staring." Midoriya gave an awkward little laugh. "Sorry. I just... I've never seen a quirk behave quite like that before." "Neither have I." He hesitated. "Can I ask you something?" "You seem determined to." "When your shadows changed, did you feel anything? Like pressure, or a loss of control?" She looked toward the concrete wall. "I felt like I wasn't alone." Midoriya's expression shifted. "What do you mean?" "I don't know." She looked back at him. "That's the problem." Before he could respond, Bakugo approached. "Deku. Move." Midoriya turned. "Kacchan—" "I said move." He stepped closer to Y/N, looking down at her. "You said you hadn't done that before." "I haven't." "Then why'd you look so damn scared?" Her jaw tightened. "Maybe because I just lost control of my quirk in front of an entire class." "I've seen people lose control. That wasn't normal." "Congratulations. You've discovered I'm not normal." "Don't play games with me." "Then stop treating every conversation like an interrogation." Bakugo's palms crackled. "You think I'm joking?" "No. I think you're angry because you don't understand something, and you're used to being able to punch your way through everything until it makes sense." Midoriya closed his eyes briefly. "Okay, maybe we should—" "Stay out of it, Deku." Bakugo didn't look away from her. "You did something back there. Something changed when I attacked." Y/N's expression faltered. "I didn't do anything." "Bullshit." "Then prove it." The two stared at each other. Bakugo looked as though he wanted to argue further, but something stopped him. His gaze had dropped to her hands. They were trembling. Not dramatically, not enough that anyone else would have noticed, but enough that her fingers were struggling to remain still. He remembered the way the shadows had moved toward him. He remembered the strange feeling of recognition that had accompanied it. He remembered the corridor yesterday, the flickering lights, and the way she'd looked at him as though she had been expecting him to appear in a nightmare. "Tch." He turned away. "Get your shit together before someone gets hurt." It wasn't particularly kind, but it wasn't quite the accusation he'd intended, either. Y/N watched him walk away. Midoriya lingered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "He's worried," he said quietly. She looked at him. "He has an interesting way of showing it." "That's just Kacchan." "Sounds exhausting." "You have no idea." For the first time, they shared a small, genuine smile. Then Midoriya's expression grew more serious. "Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Have we really never met before?" Her smile disappeared. She looked at him for a long moment, and the question seemed to pull something uncomfortable to the surface. "I don't know," she admitted. "Sometimes I think I remember you." Midoriya went still. "What do you remember?" "Nothing clear." She looked down at her hands. "Just your voice. And his." Midoriya glanced toward Bakugo, who was now arguing with Kirishima about the evaluation. "What did we do?" Y/N shook her head. "I don't know." Aizawa called for Midoriya before he could ask anything else. He gave her one last concerned look, then reluctantly returned to the others. Y/N remained alone beside the damaged wall, staring at the dark mark that had appeared during her assessment. She couldn't explain what had happened. She couldn't even remember making the thing that had swallowed Bakugo's explosion. All she knew was that, for a brief moment, the darkness had felt familiar. Not like something she controlled. Like something that had been waiting for her.

Later that afternoon, Aizawa requested a private meeting with Nezu. The principal listened without interruption as he described the assessment, including the unusual behavior of Y/N's quirk and the apparent failure of Erasure to immediately stop its manifestations. "And you believe it was a loss of control?" Nezu asked. Aizawa leaned back in his chair. "I believe she lost control of something. Whether that something was her quirk is a different question." Nezu folded his paws on the desk. "Interesting." "Don't say interesting." "Would you prefer concerning?" "I'd prefer an explanation." Nezu's smile softened, though his eyes remained sharp. "I have been reviewing her documentation. There are several inconsistencies, but nothing that would justify removing her from the program at this stage." "You saw the footage?" "Several times." Aizawa looked toward the monitor. "It reacted before she did." "Yes." "And it moved toward Bakugo." Nezu was silent for a moment. "Did she appear to recognize the behavior?" "No. She appeared frightened by it." "Then we should be careful not to mistake fear for guilt." Aizawa exhaled through his nose. "I'm not planning on treating her like a criminal. But I want access to every available record concerning her previous institution." Nezu nodded. "I'll see what I can arrange." Aizawa stood, pausing with one hand on the door. "One more thing." "Yes?" "There was something about the way she looked at Midoriya and Bakugo this morning. Like she knew them." Nezu's expression remained pleasant. "Did they recognize her?" "They think they might have." For the first time, the principal's eyes shifted toward the closed computer screen. "I see." Aizawa frowned. "You know something." "I know that memories are not always as reliable as we would like them to be." "That's not an answer." "No," Nezu agreed. "It isn't." Aizawa stared at him for another moment before leaving. Once the door had closed, Nezu reached beneath his desk and retrieved a small storage device. He inserted it into his computer, opened an encrypted folder, and watched as a list of scanned documents appeared. Most had been damaged beyond recovery. Some contained nothing but strings of numbers. One contained a photograph of three children standing in front of a building that no longer existed. Nezu zoomed in. The image was grainy, but the two boys were unmistakable. Midoriya. Bakugo. And between them, a girl with long dark hair. Nezu stared at the photograph, then at the date printed beneath it. His ears lowered slightly. "So," he murmured to himself. "It has started again."

That evening, Y/N returned to her room and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She had changed out of her hero costume, washed her face, and tied her hair back loosely. Without the dramatic makeup, she looked younger, although the tiredness around her eyes remained. She turned on the faucet and let the water run over her fingers. For several minutes, she simply watched it. Then she noticed something. The shadow beneath her hand was moving. The bathroom light was perfectly still. Her fingers weren't moving, either. Yet the darkness on the counter had begun to stretch toward the sink, thin black tendrils spreading like spilled ink. Y/N jerked her hand away. The shadow stopped. She stared at it, her heart beginning to pound. "No," she whispered. The darkness slowly retreated. She turned off the faucet and backed away from the mirror. For a moment, she thought she saw something standing behind her reflection. Something tall. Something with a shape that didn't quite resemble a person. She spun around. The bathroom was empty. When she looked back, her reflection was staring directly at her. Except her eyes were completely black. Y/N stumbled backward, striking the door with her shoulder. She blinked. Her eyes returned to normal. Her reflection looked as frightened as she felt. She stood there for a long time, waiting for something else to happen. Nothing did. Eventually, she left the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her knees close to her chest. She didn't know why she'd been transferred to U.A. She didn't know why Midoriya and Bakugo seemed familiar. And she didn't know why her own shadow sometimes moved like it was trying to get away from her. Her phone vibrated on the bedside table. An unknown number. No contact name. No message preview. Just a notification indicating that she had received a photograph. She frowned and opened it. The image was old, badly damaged, and clearly taken indoors. Three children stood in a white room. Two boys. One with green hair and freckles, the other with ash-blond hair and an unmistakably furious expression. Between them stood a little girl with long black hair. Y/N stopped breathing. She zoomed in on the image, staring at the girl's face. The features were younger, softer, but there was no mistaking them. It was her. Beneath the photograph was a single sentence.

You shouldn't have gone back.

Her phone vibrated again. This time, there was no photograph. Just another message.

They won't be able to protect you this time.

Y/N stared at the screen until it dimmed. Then she looked toward the bedroom window. Outside, the campus was quiet. The lights of Heights Alliance glowed in the distance, and somewhere across the grounds, she could hear students laughing. She was supposed to be safe here. She had been told that. She had believed it. But as she sat alone in the darkness, she realized something that made her stomach turn.

She didn't remember taking that photograph.

She didn't remember the room.

And she didn't remember the two boys standing beside her.

But she remembered being afraid.

Chapter 3: Girl in the photo

Y/N didn't sleep.

She had tried. She'd turned off the bedside lamp, pulled the curtains closed, put her phone facedown on the nightstand, and convinced herself that the photograph was nothing more than some cruel attempt to frighten her. It wasn't particularly difficult to imagine someone at U.A. playing a joke, although the message had felt too personal to be random. The problem was that she couldn't stop looking at the image whenever she closed her eyes. Three children standing in a white room. Midoriya. Bakugo. Herself. She had studied every detail until she could practically reconstruct the photograph from memory: the faint crack running through the upper corner, the strange lighting, the dark stain near the bottom of the wall, the way Midoriya's hand seemed to be resting on her shoulder. And Bakugo. Even as a child, he looked furious. That part, at least, hadn't changed. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. You shouldn't have gone back. The message had been sent from an unknown number, and when she'd attempted to call it, the number had immediately become unavailable. She'd checked the photograph's details, searched her gallery, and even tried running the image through a reverse search, but there was nothing. No original source. No location. No date beyond the faint numbers printed along the bottom edge. She had considered showing Aizawa. She'd even picked up her phone to contact him. But what exactly was she supposed to say? Hello, my teacher. Someone sent me a photograph of myself as a child standing beside two of my classmates, except I don't remember ever meeting them, and apparently somebody thinks I've returned to a place I shouldn't have gone. It sounded insane. Worse, she had the uncomfortable feeling that the moment she showed someone the photograph, whatever had sent it would know. She rolled onto her side again and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. At 3:17 a.m., her phone vibrated. She immediately sat up. No new message. No notification. The screen was dark. She stared at it for several seconds before reaching for it. The photograph was still there. So was the message. But something had changed. The image had been replaced. It was still the same room, the same three children, the same angle, but the girl between Midoriya and Bakugo was now looking directly at the camera. Y/N felt her stomach drop. She zoomed in. The little girl's expression was blank, her eyes almost completely black. And beneath the image, where the original photograph had contained nothing, a new line of text had appeared. Do you remember what happened when they turned out the lights? Her phone slipped from her fingers and landed on the mattress. The bedroom seemed suddenly colder. Across the room, beneath the desk, her shadow shifted. Y/N looked at it. It stretched toward the bed, slowly and deliberately, like a hand reaching for something it had lost. "Stop," she whispered. The shadow froze. She stared at it, her breathing shallow, before forcing herself to reach for the lamp. The room filled with warm light. The darkness returned to its proper place. But the feeling of being watched didn't disappear. Not even when the sun finally began to rise.

By seven thirty the next morning, Y/N had managed to convince herself that she was perfectly capable of functioning on approximately two hours of sleep and an increasingly unhealthy amount of coffee. She had changed into her uniform, brushed her hair, and spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to make herself look like someone who hadn't spent half the night questioning whether her childhood memories had been deliberately taken from her. She looked normal enough. That was the important part. Nobody needed to know about the photograph. Nobody needed to know about the messages. And nobody, especially not Bakugo, needed to know that she had spent several minutes staring at his childhood face on a phone screen. The thought made her grimace. "Fantastic," she muttered to herself, slipping her phone into her bag. "This is going well." When she arrived at the common room, Mina was already waiting with Uraraka and Hagakure, all three gathered around the kitchen island. "There she is!" Mina announced. Y/N stopped in the doorway. "That sounded threatening." "Good morning to you, too!" Uraraka said, smiling. "Did you sleep okay?" "Fine." It was an automatic answer. Mina narrowed her eyes. "You look tired." "I always look like this." "No, you don't." "You met me yesterday." "And I have excellent observational skills." "Clearly." Hagakure laughed, and Mina appeared satisfied with the exchange. Y/N moved toward the counter, pouring herself a glass of water before reaching for her coffee. She could feel the familiar pressure behind her eyes, a dull ache that had been there since the previous night's strange episode. She ignored it. She was not going to let some anonymous message ruin her first week at U.A. "Hey," Uraraka said, leaning against the counter. "A few of us were thinking about going into the city this weekend. Just to get out of the dorms for a bit. You should come." Y/N looked at her. "You invite everyone you meet to go places?" "Pretty much," Mina answered. "It's how we make friends." "Sounds exhausting." "It is," Jirou said as she entered the room. "But she won't stop." Y/N considered the invitation for a moment. Her first instinct was to refuse. She wasn't particularly comfortable making plans with people she barely knew, and the idea of being surrounded by a group of students who seemed to have known each other for years was more intimidating than she cared to admit. But something about the way Uraraka had asked made it difficult to dismiss outright. "Maybe," she said eventually. Mina gasped. "That's basically a yes!" "It's really not." "I'll take it." Across the room, Bakugo entered carrying a protein shake and looking as though he had personally been offended by the morning. His gaze passed over the group before settling briefly on Y/N. "You're still here." She looked at him. "Unfortunately for you." "Tch." He opened the refrigerator. "You look like shit." "And you look exactly how I expected." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I don't know. I haven't had enough coffee to explain it." Kaminari, who had just walked in behind him, immediately started laughing. Bakugo turned. "What's so damn funny?" "Nothing, man. Nothing." Midoriya entered a moment later, holding his usual notebook and looking slightly distracted. He greeted everyone before making his way toward the counter. His eyes met Y/N's, and for a brief second he looked as though he wanted to ask her something. She knew exactly what it was. Have we met before? She looked away before he could say it. "Morning, Midoriya," she said instead. "Oh! Good morning!" He smiled, although his attention remained on her for a moment. "How are you feeling after yesterday?" "Fine." "Are you sure? I mean, the way your quirk reacted was pretty unusual, and I was wondering if you experienced any—" "Deku," Bakugo interrupted. "Let her drink her damn coffee." Midoriya blinked. "I was just asking." "Then stop asking." Y/N glanced between them. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm capable of answering questions myself." "Wasn't talking to you," Bakugo said. "You were talking about me." "Unfortunately." "You two are going to give me a headache," Jirou muttered. "Already gave me one," Kaminari replied. The conversation continued, and for a few minutes Y/N almost managed to forget about the photograph. Almost.

Aizawa was waiting for them outside the training grounds when the class arrived. He looked more exhausted than usual, which was saying something, and his expression suggested that whatever he had planned for the morning was unlikely to improve his mood. "Today we're working on team-based combat exercises," he announced. "You'll be divided into groups of three. Each group will be assigned a scenario involving multiple opponents, environmental hazards, and a rescue objective. The point is to evaluate how well you communicate and adapt when your usual strategies aren't enough." Kaminari raised his hand. "Can we get a scenario that doesn't involve being chased by something?" "No." "Worth asking." Aizawa glanced down at his clipboard. "I'll be assigning the groups myself." A collective groan passed through the class. "I don't care if you dislike your assignments. You'll work with whoever you're given. This is your final year. You should be capable of cooperating with people who aren't your closest friends." He began reading names. Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida were assigned to the first scenario. Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari followed. Mina, Uraraka, and Jirou were grouped together. Tokoyami, Shoji, and Hagakure made up another team. Then Aizawa paused. "Bakugo, Y/N, and Yaoyorozu." There was a moment of silence. Mina slowly turned toward Y/N. "Oh, this is going to be interesting." "Why?" Y/N asked. "Because you're paired with Bakugo." "I've noticed." Bakugo clicked his tongue. "Don't start." "I wasn't planning on it." Yaoyorozu approached them, looking between the two with a polite but slightly concerned expression. "I believe we can make this work if we establish a clear strategy beforehand." "Fine by me," Y/N replied. "As long as he listens." Bakugo's head snapped toward her. "I don't take orders from extras." "Then consider it a suggestion." "I don't take suggestions, either." Yaoyorozu closed her eyes briefly. "This is going to require some patience." "Good luck," Kirishima called as he walked past. "You're going to need it." Their scenario was set inside a mock commercial district, with several buildings connected by narrow streets and elevated walkways. Their objective was to locate two rescue dummies hidden somewhere within the area, retrieve them, and reach the designated extraction point before the simulated enemy team captured them. There were additional obstacles: automated projectile systems, unstable structures, and a limited amount of time. Aizawa explained the conditions, then directed them toward the starting line. "You have twelve minutes. The scenario will adapt based on your decisions. If you destroy the rescue targets or cause unnecessary structural damage, your score will be reduced." Bakugo cracked his knuckles. "Let's just get it over with." Yaoyorozu looked at him. "We should establish a formation first. I can create equipment and provide support, while you handle direct engagement. Y/N, perhaps you could focus on restraining the opposing team and controlling the environment." Y/N nodded. "That works." Bakugo looked at her. "You don't have to follow her plan just because she said it." "I wasn't aware you had a better one." "I do." "Then I'm fascinated to hear it." "You two," Yaoyorozu said firmly, "can argue after we finish." The starting signal sounded. Bakugo launched himself forward immediately. "Keep up, extras!" Y/N stared after him for half a second. "He's genuinely exhausting." "I've known him for years," Yaoyorozu replied. "You get used to it." "That sounds like something people say when they've accepted defeat." Yaoyorozu laughed despite herself, then followed Bakugo into the training zone.

The first several minutes went surprisingly well. Bakugo took the lead, using controlled explosions to clear the path ahead and draw the attention of the automated defenses. Yaoyorozu created a pair of communication devices and a compact shield for Y/N, while Y/N used her shadows to scout the surrounding buildings and identify possible enemy positions. Her quirk was considerably easier to control when she wasn't under direct attack. The darkness moved across walls and beneath doorways, allowing her to see through the shapes it formed and detect movement beyond ordinary sight. She found the first rescue dummy inside a partially collapsed office building, wedged beneath a fallen support beam. "Found one," she said into the communication device. "Second floor, east side." "Can you get it?" Yaoyorozu asked. "Working on it." Y/N extended her hand. A thick shadow tendril curled around the support beam and lifted it carefully, allowing the dummy to slide free. She lowered the beam without damaging the surrounding structure. "That's impressive," Yaoyorozu said. "Thanks." "Your control is much better than yesterday." Y/N's expression tightened slightly. "Yesterday was an exception." She didn't elaborate. A few seconds later, Bakugo appeared through the broken doorway. "What the hell are you doing?" "Getting the rescue target." "Took you long enough." "Would you like to try lifting it with your face?" "Keep talking." "I'm considering it." Yaoyorozu stepped between them. "We should move. The enemy team has likely identified our position." They made their way toward the extraction point, but the scenario changed before they could reach it. A warning siren sounded, followed by a loud metallic crash somewhere behind them. One of the surrounding buildings began to shift. "Structural collapse!" Yaoyorozu called. "Move!" Bakugo grabbed the rescue dummy and propelled himself forward, while Y/N extended several tendrils toward the falling debris. Her shadows caught the largest pieces, slowing their descent enough for the others to escape. The force pulled sharply through her arms. She gritted her teeth, maintaining the constructs as the concrete settled around them. "Y/N!" Yaoyorozu shouted. "Release it! We'll move!" "Not yet." Another section of the building broke loose. The shadow tendrils stretched thinner, trembling beneath the weight. Bakugo turned back, his expression hardening. "Drop it, damn it!" "There's still someone underneath!" "It's a training dummy!" "I know!" She pushed harder. For one moment, the shadows thickened, becoming almost solid. Then they collapsed inward, releasing the debris in a controlled fall. Y/N staggered backward. Bakugo caught her by the shoulder, steadying her before she could hit the ground. "What is your problem?" he snapped. "You trying to break your damn arms?" She pulled away. "I had it handled." "You were shaking." "And you were yelling." "Because you're an idiot!" "Can you two PLEASE stop?" Yaoyorozu demanded. "We have a rescue objective!" They moved again, reaching the extraction point with less than a minute remaining. The exercise ended with a successful completion, although Aizawa's evaluation was less enthusiastic than they might have hoped. "Your teamwork was inconsistent," he said, looking at Bakugo. "Your communication was poor." He turned toward Y/N. "And you need to learn when to stop using your quirk. There is no point rescuing someone if you incapacitate yourself in the process." She nodded. "Understood." "Bakugo, stop treating every assignment like a competition." "Tch." "I mean it." "I heard you." Aizawa looked toward Yaoyorozu. "You did well. You were the only one who consistently attempted to coordinate the group." "Thank you, sir." As they left the training area, Yaoyorozu fell into step beside Y/N. "For what it's worth, I thought you handled the rescue situation well." "I nearly collapsed a building on us." "But you didn't." She smiled. "You'll get used to working with us." Y/N glanced toward Bakugo, who was already arguing with Kirishima about something. "That's what I'm worried about."

The rest of the morning passed without anything particularly unusual happening, although Midoriya noticed that Y/N seemed more withdrawn after the exercise. She didn't participate much in the conversation during lunch, and when Mina asked whether she wanted to join them for a study session later, she declined with a vague excuse about needing to unpack. Midoriya didn't push. He knew what it was like to have people constantly asking whether you were okay, especially when you weren't entirely sure how to answer. Still, the photograph from the previous night remained in his mind. He had seen something in her expression during their conversation that he couldn't forget. Recognition. Not certainty, but something close enough to make his stomach tighten. He was halfway through lunch when Bakugo dropped into the seat opposite him. "Deku." Midoriya looked up. "Yeah?" "What did you say to her yesterday?" "Who?" Bakugo stared at him. "Don't play dumb." "Oh. Y/N?" "No, the damn principal." Midoriya blinked. "I was just asking whether she'd been okay after the assessment." "Before that." Midoriya thought for a moment. "I asked if we'd met before." Bakugo's expression changed slightly. "And?" "She said she wasn't sure." "That's it?" "Well, she said she sometimes thinks she remembers us." Bakugo went still. "Us?" "Yeah." He lowered his voice. "She said she remembers our voices." Bakugo stared at him for several seconds. Then he leaned back. "That's weird." "I know." "You think she's lying?" Midoriya shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so." Bakugo clicked his tongue, looking away. "Whatever." "Kacchan, do you remember anything?" "No." "Nothing at all?" "I said no." Midoriya hesitated. "I keep feeling like I've seen her somewhere. I just can't remember where." Bakugo's jaw tightened. "Then stop thinking about it." "But—" "Deku." His voice dropped, more serious than before. "If she remembers something, she'll say it. Until then, leave it alone." Midoriya looked at him. There was something different about the way Bakugo had said it. Not anger, exactly. Something closer to frustration, though Midoriya couldn't tell whether it was directed at him or at the situation itself. "Okay," he said quietly. Bakugo stood and picked up his tray. "And stop staring at her like she's some kind of puzzle." Midoriya watched him walk away. "I wasn't staring," he muttered. From beside him, Todoroki took another bite of his lunch. "You were." "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Y/N was halfway through the afternoon when she finally checked her phone. She had deliberately avoided it since arriving at school, partly because she didn't want to see another message and partly because she was beginning to suspect that whoever had sent the photograph knew exactly when she looked at it. She was sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks she had barely touched, when the screen lit up. Unknown number. One new message. Her stomach tightened. She opened it. You looked tired today. She stared at the words. Another message appeared. Does he still yell when he's worried? Y/N's fingers went cold. She didn't need to ask who the message referred to. She knew. She looked toward the library entrance, then at the windows, searching for any sign that someone might be watching. Nobody was there. She typed a response before she could stop herself. Who is this? The reply came almost immediately. You really don't remember anything, do you? Her breathing became shallow. Tell me who you are. Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. Finally, another message arrived. Ask the boy with the explosions what happened to the lights. Y/N stared at the screen. She could hear her own heartbeat. She thought of Bakugo's face that morning, his irritated expression, the way he'd caught her when she'd stumbled. She thought of the photograph, of the white room, of the question about the lights. And suddenly, something inside her shifted. Not a memory. Not quite. More like the shape of one. A dark corridor. A small hand gripping hers. A voice shouting at someone to move. Then the lights going out. Y/N dropped her phone. It struck the table, the sound loud enough to make a nearby student glance up. She didn't notice. Her shadow had begun to spread beneath the chair. Thin black tendrils slipped across the floor, curling around the legs of the table. She pressed both hands against the edge of the desk. "Stop," she whispered. The darkness continued moving. "Please." A book slid off the table. Then another. A faint crack appeared in the glass of the nearest window. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself to breathe. She counted. One. Two. Three. Four. The tendrils slowly withdrew. The crack in the glass remained. She opened her eyes and looked around. The library was quiet again, but the student who had glanced at her earlier was now watching from the opposite aisle. Y/N quickly picked up her phone and shoved it into her bag. She needed air. She needed somewhere empty. Most importantly, she needed to find out what happened when the lights went out.

She found Bakugo in the training corridor outside Ground Gamma. He was alone, sitting on a bench while tightening the straps on one of his support gauntlets. His expression was focused, his movements precise. He didn't look up when she approached. "What?" he asked. Y/N stopped a few feet away. "I need to ask you something." "Then ask." She hesitated. She had spent the entire walk there trying to decide how to phrase the question, but now that she was standing in front of him, every possible version sounded ridiculous. "Have you ever been in a room with me before?" Bakugo finally looked up. "What?" "When we were younger. Do you remember being somewhere with me?" His expression hardened. "Why?" "Just answer." "I don't remember you." The words came too quickly. She studied his face. "You're sure?" "I think I'd remember someone as irritating as you." "That's not an answer." "It's the one you're getting." Y/N took a breath. "What happened to the lights?" Bakugo stopped moving. It was subtle, but she saw it. His fingers went still against the strap. His eyes narrowed, and the irritation that had been present a moment earlier gave way to something sharper. "What did you just say?" She repeated it. "What happened to the lights?" He stood slowly. "Who told you that?" Y/N's stomach dropped. "So you do know something." "Answer the damn question." "Someone messaged me." "Who?" "I don't know." "What did they say?" She hesitated, then pulled out her phone. Bakugo snatched it before she could offer it, scrolling through the messages with increasing irritation. When he reached the photograph, his expression changed. He stared at the image for a long time. "Where'd you get this?" "I told you. Someone sent it." "When?" "Last night." He zoomed in on the image, his eyes moving between the three children. His own face was unmistakable, even at that age. Midoriya was beside him. And the girl in the middle— "That's you?" he asked. Y/N nodded. Bakugo looked up. "You expect me to believe this is real?" "I don't know what to believe." He looked back at the photograph. "I've never seen this." "Neither have I." "Then why the hell are you asking me about the lights?" "Because someone told me to ask you!" Her voice rose slightly. "I don't know what happened. I don't know where that room is, or why we're in that photograph, or why someone seems so interested in making sure I don't remember any of it. I just know that every time I try to think about it, I feel like I'm going to be sick." Bakugo stared at her. For once, he didn't have an immediate response. He looked at the photograph again, then at the messages. His jaw tightened. "Show Deku." "Why?" "Because if this is real, he deserves to see it." Y/N hesitated. "You think he'll remember?" "I don't know." He handed the phone back. "But he might." She looked down at the photograph. "What if we don't want to know?" Bakugo's expression became unreadable. "Then you're asking the wrong people." He turned away, picking up his equipment. "And don't go wandering around alone if someone's sending you shit like this." Y/N blinked. "Are you giving me orders?" "I'm telling you not to be stupid." "You really don't know how to say anything nicely, do you?" "Do you really need everything explained to you twice?" She almost smiled, but the feeling disappeared as she looked at the photograph again. "Bakugo?" He paused. "What?" "When you looked at it, did you feel anything?" He was quiet for a moment. "No." It was a lie. Neither of them said anything else.

That evening, Midoriya found Bakugo standing outside the dormitory, staring at his phone. He approached cautiously, recognizing the expression on his friend's face. "Kacchan?" Bakugo didn't look up. "Deku. Come here." Midoriya stepped beside him. Bakugo held out the phone. "Look." Midoriya glanced at the screen and immediately recognized the photograph. His breath caught. "Where did you get this?" "She got it." Midoriya zoomed in, studying the image. He could barely make out the details, but there was no mistaking the three children. "That's... that's us." "Obviously." "I don't remember this." "Neither do I." Midoriya's fingers trembled slightly as he enlarged the image. "The room. Look at the walls." Bakugo leaned closer. "What about them?" "There's something written here." Midoriya adjusted the brightness. The photograph sharpened slightly, revealing a faint marking near the upper edge of the wall. A series of numbers and letters, partially obscured by damage. Midoriya frowned. "It looks like a room number." Bakugo stared at it. "Can you read it?" "Not completely." Midoriya zoomed in further. "Maybe if I—" A notification appeared at the top of the screen. Another unknown message. Both boys went silent. Bakugo opened it. There were only six words. You were supposed to forget her. Midoriya felt the blood drain from his face. "Kacchan..." Bakugo didn't answer. Another message arrived. Especially you. The screen went black. For several seconds, neither of them moved. Then Bakugo's expression twisted into something dangerous. "Whoever the hell this is," he said quietly, "they've got a problem." Midoriya looked toward the dormitory windows. Somewhere inside, Y/N was probably trying to convince herself that everything was fine. He looked back at the photograph, at the little girl standing between them, and felt something cold settle in his chest. He couldn't remember the room. He couldn't remember the photograph being taken. But for the first time since she'd arrived at U.A., he was certain of something. He had known her before. And someone had gone to considerable lengths to make sure he never remembered.

Far beyond U.A., in a building that did not appear on any public map, a monitor flickered to life. A man sat in a dimly lit room, watching a collection of security footage displayed across several screens. Most of the images were old, but one showed a live feed of U.A.'s training grounds. The footage had been captured from a camera that should no longer have existed. He watched the moment Y/N's shadows swallowed Bakugo's explosion. He watched the darkness spread across the concrete. He watched the brief appearance of something behind her that the camera could not properly identify. Then he paused the footage. A second man stood behind him. "She's awakening." The first man said nothing. "The containment procedures were never designed for this level of activity. If she continues developing at this rate—" "She won't." "Sir?" The man leaned forward, studying the frozen image of Y/N. "She's surrounded by people she recognizes. That changes things." "Should we retrieve her?" He considered the question. "Not yet." "But the others are beginning to remember." The man's fingers tightened against the desk. "Then we have less time than I thought." He opened another file. It contained a list of names, photographs, and several heavily redacted documents. Near the bottom was a photograph of a young girl with long black hair. Beneath it was a single designation. SUBJECT 07 — BLACKOUT SAINT. The man stared at it for several seconds before closing the file. "Find out who sent the photograph," he ordered. "And whatever you do..." He paused, his gaze returning to the monitor. "Do not let her remember the last time the lights went out."

Chapter 4: Familiar strangers

The next morning, nothing happened.

Which, under the circumstances, was almost suspicious.

No mysterious messages appeared on Y/N's phone. No strange movements beneath her feet. No unexplained flickering lights or sudden lapses in memory. There were no photographs, no unfamiliar voices whispering from the darkness, and no reason to believe that someone was watching her from somewhere beyond the walls of U.A. It was almost enough to make her feel ridiculous for spending the previous evening sitting on her bedroom floor, staring at a photograph of three children she couldn't remember being. Almost. She had barely slept, and the conversation with Bakugo had done very little to settle her nerves. If anything, knowing that he had recognized something about the photograph made the situation considerably worse. He hadn't admitted it, of course. Bakugo Katsuki seemed physically incapable of admitting when something bothered him. But she'd seen his expression. She knew he'd felt something. The problem was that she didn't know what. By the time her alarm went off, she had already been awake for nearly an hour. She dragged herself out of bed, showered, and spent a little longer than usual getting ready. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, and she dressed in her uniform, adding a few small silver accessories before grabbing her bag. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. Tired, but otherwise normal. Good enough. She picked up her phone, glanced at the photograph one final time, and then locked the screen. She wasn't going to spend another day thinking about it. At least, that was the plan.

The Heights Alliance common room was considerably quieter than it had been the previous morning. A few students were scattered around the couches, some eating breakfast and others attempting to finish assignments they had apparently forgotten existed. Sero was sitting at the kitchen island with Kaminari, both of them looking at something on a phone, while Kirishima was attempting to convince Bakugo that making breakfast for everyone was a perfectly reasonable way to spend his morning. "I'm just saying, man, you make really good food. You could make enough for everyone." "Why the hell would I do that?" Bakugo snapped. "Because we're friends?" "Then make your own damn food." "That's not very manly." "I don't give a shit." Y/N entered just in time to hear the last part. "Good morning to you, too." Bakugo glanced over his shoulder. "Nobody was talking to you." "And yet somehow I feel included." Kirishima laughed. "Morning, Y/N!" "Morning." She made her way toward the coffee machine, setting her bag down beside the counter. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked. "Well enough." "You sure? You look a little tired." "Everyone keeps telling me that." "Maybe because you look tired," Jirou commented from the couch. Y/N turned toward her. "I'm starting to think this class has a problem with my face." "We have a problem with most things," Jirou replied. "You'll fit right in." Mina came bounding down the stairs a moment later, already talking before she'd reached the bottom. "Okay, important question. Does anyone know if we're allowed to decorate our dorm rooms however we want?" "Why?" Uraraka asked. "Because I think we should have a decorating night!" Mina announced. "Like, everyone gets to help everyone else. We can do snacks, music, movies, the whole thing." "That actually sounds fun," Hagakure said. "Can we do matching decorations?" "Absolutely." "No," Jirou said immediately. "You're not putting matching decorations in my room." "You haven't even heard the idea!" "I know you." Y/N took a sip of her coffee, listening to the conversation with a faint smile. It was strange, being around people who seemed so comfortable with one another. They interrupted each other, argued over insignificant things, and somehow managed to have five different conversations happening at once. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about looking foolish. Nobody appeared to be keeping track of what they said or how they acted. It was... nice. A little overwhelming, but nice. "Y/N!" Mina called suddenly. She looked up. "Yeah?" "What does your room look like?" "A room." Mina stared at her. "Okay, hilarious. Describe it." "Black walls. Dark furniture. A few decorations." "That's it?" "What else do you want?" "Pictures! Posters! Lights! Something!" Y/N shrugged. "You'll have to come see it." Mina gasped dramatically. "IS THAT AN INVITATION?" "I suppose." "Oh, we're absolutely doing that." "You haven't even seen it." "I already love it." From the kitchen, Bakugo made a noise of disgust. "You people are annoying as hell." "You could join us," Kirishima offered. "I'd rather die." "That's a little dramatic." "Shut up."

Y/N was beginning to understand that Bakugo's personality wasn't particularly difficult to figure out. He was loud, impatient, aggressive, and had an impressive ability to make almost any ordinary interaction feel like a personal confrontation. What she hadn't figured out was why he seemed to have a particular problem with her. He was rude to everyone, certainly, but there was a difference between the way he spoke to Kaminari and the way he spoke to her. With Kaminari, he seemed irritated by default. With her, it was almost personal. She wasn't sure whether she'd done something to offend him or whether he simply disliked her existence. Either possibility seemed equally likely. "You're staring," Bakugo said suddenly. Y/N blinked. "I'm literally drinking coffee." "Then do it somewhere else." "I'll make sure to ask permission next time I stand in a public kitchen." He turned around, glaring at her. "You always have something to say?" "Usually when someone gives me a reason." "You're gonna be a pain in my ass." "The feeling is mutual." Kirishima looked between them, then slowly took a step backward. "Anyway! I'm gonna go find my bag." "Your bag is right there," Jirou said. "I know." "Then why are you—" "I forgot something." He disappeared before she could finish. Y/N shook her head, finishing her coffee before checking the time. "I should go." "Wait!" Mina called. "We're walking together!" "We are?" "Yes." Y/N glanced toward the door, then back at her. "Okay." Mina linked arms with Uraraka and started talking about the upcoming weekend, while Y/N followed at a slightly more comfortable distance. She hadn't expected to be included in things so quickly. She wasn't sure what to do with it yet, but she found herself appreciating it more than she wanted to admit.

The first class of the morning was a lecture with Aizawa, which was considerably less exciting than the practical exercises from the previous day. He had assigned them a series of case studies involving quirk-related incidents, asking them to evaluate how different heroes had handled situations involving civilians, environmental hazards, and multiple opponents. It was the kind of assignment Midoriya seemed to enjoy far too much. He was already three pages into his notes before Aizawa had finished explaining the instructions. Y/N sat beside Yaoyorozu, who had offered to share her textbook after discovering that the transfer materials hadn't included the complete course packet. "You can borrow mine if you'd like," Yaoyorozu whispered. "I have an extra copy of the previous chapter, too." "Thanks. I appreciate it." "Of course. If you need anything else, just ask." Y/N nodded and opened the textbook. She was halfway through reading the first case study when a small piece of paper landed on her desk. She glanced at it. Are you coming this weekend? She looked toward Mina, who was sitting two rows ahead and had apparently decided that classroom etiquette was optional. Y/N picked up her pen and wrote beneath it. Haven't decided. The paper returned a few seconds later. That's a yes in my book. Y/N smiled slightly and folded the paper before putting it beneath her textbook. "Miss Y/N." Her head lifted immediately. Aizawa was looking directly at her. "Would you care to share your thoughts on the second case study?" She glanced down at the page, quickly scanning the scenario. A pro hero had been pursuing a villain through a crowded shopping district when the villain had deliberately caused structural damage to force the hero to choose between continuing the pursuit and rescuing trapped civilians. "The hero made the right decision by prioritizing the civilians," she answered. "But I think the mistake happened earlier. They allowed the villain to control the environment and dictate where the fight took place. If they'd considered the surrounding structures and possible escape routes before engaging, they might have prevented the situation altogether." Aizawa watched her for a moment. "And if the villain had already initiated the collapse?" "Then the rescue comes first. Catching someone isn't worth letting innocent people die." "Good." He turned back toward the board. "Write that down." Y/N looked at her textbook. She had already written almost exactly that. Beside her, Yaoyorozu gave her a small approving smile. Across the room, Midoriya had been listening. He looked at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes to his notebook. Something about the way she had answered felt familiar. Not the answer itself, but the way she had approached it. She hadn't focused on the villain, or the hero, or even the outcome of the fight. She had immediately looked for the point where things could have gone wrong. It reminded him of someone. Someone he couldn't quite place. He pressed his pencil against the page, trying to remember. Nothing came.

By lunchtime, Y/N had discovered two things about her new classmates. The first was that Kaminari could somehow turn any conversation into something completely unrelated within thirty seconds. The second was that Todoroki had a remarkably literal way of interpreting almost everything people said. She had learned this after making an offhand comment about the cafeteria food being a little bland and receiving a serious explanation of how salt could be used to improve the flavor. She was beginning to suspect he hadn't intended to be funny. "You know," Kaminari said, leaning across the table, "I've been thinking." Jirou immediately sighed. "That's dangerous." "I'm serious." "Even worse." "We should all do something together outside school." "Mina already suggested that," Uraraka pointed out. "Yeah, but I mean something different. Like, a proper group thing." "A proper group thing?" Sero repeated. "You mean hanging out?" "Exactly!" Kaminari snapped his fingers. "Thank you." "That was painful," Jirou muttered. Y/N sat quietly, eating her lunch and occasionally glancing between them. She was still getting used to the sheer amount of conversation that happened around the table. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about everything, and nobody was particularly interested in waiting for someone else to finish speaking. "What about you?" Kirishima asked, turning toward her. "Do you like going out?" Y/N considered the question. "Depends where." "Clubs? Concerts? Shopping?" Mina listed. "Movies?" "Concerts, mostly." "Really?" "Yeah. I like live music." "What kind?" Jirou asked, suddenly looking more interested. Y/N told her a few of the bands she listened to. Jirou nodded along, occasionally offering a recommendation of her own, and before long the two were discussing music while Kaminari attempted to convince everyone that he had excellent taste despite being repeatedly told otherwise. It was the first conversation Y/N had participated in that didn't feel like she was being interviewed. She found herself relaxing. Even Bakugo, who had been sitting at the opposite end of the table, hadn't made any comments. He was eating quietly, which was perhaps the closest thing to peace the group was ever going to get. "What about you, Bakugo?" Mina asked suddenly. He looked up. "What?" "What music do you listen to?" "Music." "Wow. Very informative." "Why the hell do you care?" "Because I'm curious!" "Find something else to be curious about." Y/N took another bite of her food. "I think he listens to the sound of his own explosions." Sero nearly choked. Kaminari burst out laughing. Bakugo slowly turned his head toward her. "You wanna say that again?" "I said I think you listen to the sound of your own explosions." "I heard you the first time." "Then why did you ask?" Kirishima put a hand over his face. "I'm begging you both." Bakugo pointed his chopsticks at her. "You think you're funny." "Sometimes." "You're not." "That's unfortunate." He looked as though he was about to respond, but Todoroki interrupted. "I think explosions would be difficult to listen to repeatedly. They're very loud." There was a brief silence. Then Jirou started laughing so hard she had to put her drink down. Even Y/N couldn't help it. Bakugo stared at Todoroki. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The afternoon practical session was considerably more relaxed than the previous day's assessment. Aizawa had arranged a series of individual exercises focusing on precision and quirk control, with the intention of allowing the students to identify weaknesses in their abilities. There was no competition, no designated opponent, and no expectation that anyone would need to fight. Y/N found herself appreciating the change. She had spent enough time thinking about the strange behavior of her quirk that she was beginning to dread the possibility of another incident. Having something simple to focus on was a relief. Her assignment involved manipulating several small targets positioned at different distances, using her shadows to retrieve them without disturbing the surrounding objects. It sounded easy enough. The first few attempts went smoothly. She extended a tendril from beneath her hand, wrapped it around a small metal sphere, and brought it back without knocking over the nearby blocks. The second target was further away, requiring her to stretch the construct across the training area. She adjusted her wrist, concentrated, and pulled it toward her. "Your control is good," Aizawa commented as he passed behind her. "You don't seem to rely on physical gestures as much as you did yesterday." "It's easier when I'm not moving." "That's understandable. Your quirk appears to respond to your movements, but it isn't entirely dependent on them." She looked down at her hand. "I think so." Aizawa watched her manipulate another target. "Do you know the limits of your ability?" "Not really." "That's something we'll need to work on." She nodded. "Your transfer records describe the ability as shadow manipulation. Is that how you've always understood it?" Y/N hesitated. "That's what I was told." Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly. "You were told?" She looked at him. "My previous instructors described it that way." He didn't respond immediately. "And do you disagree?" "I don't know." She looked back toward the target. "Sometimes it feels like I'm not really making the shadows do anything. It feels more like I'm asking them to." Aizawa studied her for a moment. "That's an interesting distinction." "I didn't mean to make it sound weird." "I didn't say it was weird." He looked down at his clipboard. "Just be careful. If you don't understand your own quirk, you need to be especially aware of how much you're using it." "I will." He moved on to the next student, leaving her with the uncomfortable feeling that she'd just told him more than she intended. She looked at the final target. Her shadow lay quietly beneath her feet, perfectly ordinary. She extended a hand, and a thin tendril emerged. It wrapped around the metal sphere and brought it back to her palm. Nothing unusual happened. No strange movements. No darkness spreading across the walls. Just a quirk doing exactly what she asked it to do. She let out a quiet breath. Maybe yesterday really had been an exception.

After classes ended, Y/N returned to the dorms with Mina and Uraraka. They had spent most of the walk discussing the weekend plans, although the conversation had eventually shifted to a rather extensive debate about which students were most likely to survive a horror movie. "Bakugo," Mina insisted. "Absolutely." "He'd probably kill the monster," Uraraka agreed. "Or the monster would leave because he was yelling too much," Y/N added. Mina nearly doubled over laughing. "YES." "I think Todoroki would survive," Uraraka said thoughtfully. "He'd accidentally freeze the entire house." "And then he'd wonder why the monster wasn't moving," Y/N replied. "Okay, what about Midoriya?" Mina asked. "He'd try to save the monster," Y/N said. Uraraka laughed. "That's actually true." "And then he'd write a report about it." "A very detailed report," Mina added. By the time they reached the common room, Y/N was smiling more than she had in the previous two days combined. It was a strange feeling. She hadn't expected to enjoy herself so quickly, and she certainly hadn't expected to find people she could tolerate this easily. Mina insisted that they should all come to her room later to discuss the decorating idea, and Uraraka promised to bring snacks. Y/N agreed, although she made no promises about participating in whatever elaborate project Mina was planning. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard someone call her name. "Hey." She turned. Midoriya was standing near the common room entrance, one hand holding a notebook against his chest. "Do you have a minute?" "Sure." Mina glanced between them, then gave Y/N a knowing smile. "We'll be upstairs." "Don't make that face," Y/N warned. "What face?" Mina asked innocently. "That one." Mina laughed and disappeared with Uraraka. Midoriya approached, looking slightly uncertain. "I wanted to ask you something." Y/N waited. "I know this might sound strange, but... have you ever been to Musutafu before?" She frowned. "I don't think so." "Never?" "Not that I remember." He nodded slowly. "Okay." She studied him. "Why?" "I don't know. I just thought maybe..." He trailed off, looking down at his notebook. "It's nothing." "Midoriya." He looked up. "If you're going to ask me something, just ask." He gave a small, embarrassed smile. "Sorry. It's just that I've been thinking about what you said yesterday. About remembering our voices." She felt her shoulders tense slightly. "Yeah?" "I was wondering if you remembered anything else." Y/N considered lying. It would have been easier. But she had spent the previous night staring at a photograph of the three of them, and she was beginning to realize that pretending nothing was happening wasn't going to make the questions disappear. "Sometimes I get these little flashes," she admitted. "Nothing clear. A room, maybe. Someone shouting. I don't know." Midoriya's expression changed. "Someone shouting?" She nodded. "I can't remember what they were saying." He was quiet for a moment. "Do you think it was us?" "I don't know." "Right." He looked almost disappointed, although he tried to hide it. Y/N glanced at the notebook in his hands. "Have you always written everything down?" He looked startled. "Oh. Yeah. Mostly about quirks, hero techniques, strategies..." "You keep notes on everyone?" "Not everyone!" He paused. "Well, sometimes. I mean, not in a weird way. It's just useful to—" "I'm teasing." He stopped. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Sorry." For a moment, neither spoke. Then Midoriya looked toward the stairs. "I'm glad you're here, by the way." Y/N blinked. "What?" "At U.A. I mean. I know transferring this late must be difficult, especially with everyone already knowing each other. But I think you'll fit in." She looked at him for a moment. "Thanks, Midoriya." He smiled. "You can call me Izuku, if you want. Most of my friends do." "I'll think about it." "That's fair." He started to turn away, then stopped. "Oh, and one more thing." "Yeah?" "If you ever need help with anything, just let me know." She nodded. "I will." He walked away, leaving her standing in the hallway. She watched him disappear into the common room, then glanced toward the stairs. There was something about him that made her feel strangely protective, despite barely knowing him. She couldn't explain it. She simply had the uncomfortable feeling that she had once been responsible for making sure he was okay.

Later that evening, Y/N found herself sitting on the floor of Mina's room, surrounded by clothing, decorations, and several different types of string lights. She had no idea how she'd ended up there. One moment she'd been walking upstairs to her room, and the next Mina had grabbed her wrist and informed her that she was needed for an extremely important decorating consultation. "Okay, so," Mina said, holding up two different posters. "Which one?" Y/N looked at them. One was pink and glittery. The other featured a collection of cartoon characters. "Neither." Mina stared. "You're supposed to choose." "I'm choosing neither." "You're impossible." "I've been told." Uraraka laughed from the bed, where she was sorting through a collection of small decorative lights. "What do you usually decorate with?" "Mostly darker colors. Black, purple, silver. A few posters." "That sounds pretty," Uraraka said. "We should help you decorate your room sometime." "I'm beginning to regret mentioning it." Mina gasped. "You can't take it back now." They spent the next hour discussing everything from music to movies to the most embarrassing things they'd ever done in middle school. Y/N didn't contribute much to the last category, but she listened, occasionally laughing when Mina told a story that made Uraraka hide her face in embarrassment. At some point, Jirou joined them, bringing a small speaker and a collection of music recommendations. The four of them ended up sitting on the floor, passing snacks around while music played quietly in the background. It was ordinary. Completely ordinary. And for reasons Y/N couldn't quite explain, that made it feel important. She was beginning to understand that being at U.A. didn't have to be about constantly proving herself. She could simply exist here. She could make friends. She could have conversations that didn't involve her quirk or her past. She could be a normal student, at least for a little while. When she finally returned to her room, it was nearly eleven. She changed into comfortable clothes, brushed her hair, and sat on the edge of her bed while checking her phone. There were no new messages. She opened her gallery anyway, staring at the photograph one final time. She enlarged the image, studying the faces of the children. This time, she noticed something she hadn't seen before. Her younger self wasn't simply standing between Midoriya and Bakugo. Her hand was holding something. A small, dark object, barely visible against the sleeve of her shirt. She zoomed in further. The image became grainy, but she could make out what looked like a little silver key. She frowned. It didn't look like a house key. It was too small, with a strange circular shape at one end. She stared at it for a while before locking her phone. She wasn't going to investigate it tonight. She wasn't going to spend another evening trying to force memories out of a mind that clearly wasn't ready to give them back. She placed the phone on her nightstand, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. For once, she was almost looking forward to tomorrow. Across the hall, someone laughed loudly, followed by a familiar irritated voice telling them to shut up. Y/N smiled faintly into her pillow. U.A. was certainly going to take some getting used to.

And somewhere in the building, Bakugo Katsuki was having considerably less success sleeping.

He sat at his desk with one elbow resting against the surface, staring at a notebook he hadn't intended to open. He'd been trying to finish an assignment for the last twenty minutes, but his attention kept drifting toward the photograph on his phone. He'd looked at it too many times. He knew that. He also knew it was getting on his nerves. There was no reason he should care about some old photograph. No reason he should be thinking about a girl he'd supposedly never met. Yet every time he looked at the image, he felt like there was something missing. Something just beyond his reach. He zoomed in on the little girl. Her face was partially obscured by the poor quality of the photograph, but he could still make out her expression. She was smiling. Not particularly widely, but enough to show that she was comfortable. That bothered him more than it should have. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone look at him like that. He couldn't remember the room, either. Or the photograph. Or why someone had gone to the trouble of sending it to them. He locked his phone and tossed it onto the desk. "Stupid." He picked up his pencil. A few seconds passed. Then he picked up his phone again. He opened the photograph and stared at it for another moment before noticing something. In the background, behind the three children, there was a door. A narrow white door with a small rectangular window. He enlarged it. There was a number printed above the frame. He couldn't read all of it, but the first two digits were clear. 07. He stared at the number. Something about it made his stomach tighten. Then, without warning, a faint image crossed his mind. A white hallway. Fluorescent lights. Someone crying. A small voice telling him to hurry. And then—

Nothing.

He blinked, sitting perfectly still. The memory was gone before he could grasp it. His jaw tightened. "What the hell..." He looked at the photograph again, but the image offered no explanation. After another minute, he locked his phone and shoved it into a drawer. He wasn't going to waste another night on it. Not tonight. Not when he had better things to do. He turned off his desk lamp and climbed into bed, irritated with himself for reasons he couldn't quite name.

For the first time since Y/N had arrived at U.A., the mystery remained exactly where it was.

Unanswered.

Chapter 5: Unsaid

The following morning began with an argument over a missing frying pan.

It was, admittedly, not the sort of thing Y/N had expected to witness at seven forty-five in the morning, but she was beginning to understand that very little about U.A. was particularly predictable. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, still fastening one of the silver rings on her fingers, watching Kaminari attempt to explain to Bakugo that he had absolutely no idea where the pan had gone. Bakugo, who was currently holding said pan, looked approximately three seconds away from committing a felony. "YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU USED MY PAN, LOST IT, AND NOW YOU'RE ASKING ME WHERE IT IS?" "Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad." "BECAUSE IT IS BAD, YOU IDIOT!" "I thought maybe someone moved it!" "IT WAS IN YOUR HAND!" Y/N stopped beside the kitchen island. "Morning." Kirishima, who was sitting at the counter eating toast, looked up and grinned. "Morning! Welcome to the daily disaster." "Does this happen every day?" "Pretty much." "Comforting." Kaminari spotted her and immediately pointed in her direction. "Tell him I'm not completely responsible." Y/N looked at the pan, then at Bakugo, then back at Kaminari. "I don't know you well enough to defend you in court." Sero nearly spat out his drink. Kirishima laughed, and even Jirou, who was scrolling through her phone nearby, cracked a smile. Bakugo gave Y/N an unimpressed look before turning back toward Kaminari. "Get out of my kitchen." "It's a shared kitchen!" "NOT ANYMORE." Y/N poured herself a coffee, deciding that involving herself any further would probably result in her becoming the next victim of the morning's events. She was beginning to enjoy the common room, though. It was loud, occasionally unbearable, and full of people who seemed to have no concept of personal space, but there was something comforting about knowing that there would always be someone around. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed that until now. "You're coming with us today, right?" Mina asked, appearing beside her with a piece of toast in her mouth. "Coming where?" "The shopping district! Remember? I told you yesterday." Y/N took a sip of coffee. "You mentioned something about going into the city." "Exactly. We're going after classes." "Who is we?" "Me, Uraraka, Jirou, probably Hagakure, and now you." Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You make plans very quickly." "It's a gift." "Is it?" "No, but it sounds better than saying I have no boundaries." Y/N laughed. "I'll see." Mina groaned. "You always say that!" "And sometimes I mean it." "You're coming." "We'll see." Mina pointed at her accusingly before turning toward Uraraka, who had just entered the room. "She's being difficult again." "I think that's just how she is," Uraraka replied with a smile. "I've noticed."

Classes passed without anything particularly memorable happening. Aizawa spent most of the morning reviewing combat theory, occasionally interrupting students who seemed more interested in sleeping than learning, and the afternoon consisted of partner exercises that were considerably less demanding than the previous day's training. Y/N found herself paired with Jirou, which turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. They were asked to develop a strategy for locating an opponent in an enclosed environment using their respective quirks, and Jirou was quick to point out that Y/N's shadows could provide information from areas she couldn't physically reach. "So basically, you can send them under doors and through small spaces?" Jirou asked as they stood beside the practice building. "Pretty much." "Can you see through them?" "Not exactly. I can sense movement and get a general idea of what's around them." "That's actually really useful." Y/N shrugged. "It has its moments." "What are the drawbacks?" "Depends on how much I use them. The further I stretch them, the harder it gets to control them." "And yesterday?" Y/N looked at her. "What about yesterday?" "When the building started collapsing. You looked like you were going to pass out." Y/N glanced toward the training area. "I was fine." Jirou gave her a look. "You know, you don't have to say that every time someone asks." "Say what?" "That you're fine." Y/N smiled faintly. "Maybe I just am." Jirou didn't seem entirely convinced, but she didn't push. "Whatever. Just don't pass out on me during an exercise. I'm not carrying you." "Good to know." Their exercise went smoothly, and by the end of the session Aizawa had given them a reasonably good evaluation. Y/N was beginning to feel more comfortable using her quirk around the others, although she still found herself holding back whenever she noticed someone watching too closely. It wasn't that she was afraid of her ability. At least, she didn't think she was. There was simply something about the way the shadows moved sometimes that made her uncomfortable. They occasionally seemed to react before she consciously instructed them to. She hadn't mentioned that to anyone. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

After classes, the girls gathered near the dormitory entrance to decide who was going into the city. Mina, as expected, had somehow convinced nearly everyone to come. Uraraka was carrying a small purse, Hagakure was talking excitedly about a shop she'd visited a few weeks earlier, and Jirou looked like she was already regretting agreeing to the outing. Y/N emerged from the dorms a few minutes later, wearing a black fitted top beneath a dark jacket, a short skirt with layered fabric over black tights, and her usual collection of silver jewelry. Her hair fell down her back, and she had added a little more makeup than she usually wore for school. "Oh my GOD," Mina said when she saw her. Y/N stopped. "What?" "Nothing. You just look really pretty." "Thanks?" "No, seriously. I love your outfit." "Thank you." Hagakure's voice came from somewhere near Mina's shoulder. "You have to tell us where you get your clothes." "Mostly online." "Of course you do." Uraraka smiled. "Ready?" Y/N nodded. "Yeah." They were halfway down the walkway when Kirishima called after them. "Hey! You guys going into the city?" Mina turned. "Yeah!" "Have fun!" "We will!" Kaminari appeared behind him. "Wait, why wasn't I invited?" Jirou looked at him. "Because you weren't." "That's cold." "It's accurate." Sero leaned against the doorway. "Bring us something back." "What do you want?" Mina called. "Food!" "That's not helpful!" "I'M NOT PICKY!" Y/N laughed quietly as they continued toward the gates. It was strange how quickly the atmosphere around her had changed. A few days ago, she had barely known anyone's name. Now she was walking into the city with a group of girls who seemed genuinely interested in having her around. She wasn't sure what to make of it yet, but she wasn't complaining.

The shopping district was busier than Y/N had expected. The streets were lined with small clothing stores, cafés, restaurants, and various shops selling everything from accessories to secondhand records. Mina seemed to know exactly where she wanted to go, dragging the group from one storefront to another with seemingly unlimited energy. Uraraka followed enthusiastically, while Jirou maintained a more relaxed pace, occasionally stopping to look at something that caught her attention. Y/N found herself enjoying the afternoon more than she'd anticipated. She bought a few pieces of jewelry, spent a ridiculous amount of time looking through a clothing store, and eventually ended up sitting outside a café with the others, sharing a plate of pastries. "So," Mina began, resting her chin in her hands. "Can I ask you something?" Y/N looked up. "That depends." "Why did you transfer to U.A.?" The question wasn't particularly surprising. She had been expecting it eventually. "I wanted a change." Mina tilted her head. "A change from what?" "My old school." "Did something happen?" "Not really." It was an easy answer, and technically it wasn't a lie. There were things she didn't want to talk about, things she wasn't entirely sure how to explain. "I just thought U.A. would be a better place for me." Uraraka nodded. "That makes sense." Jirou took a sip of her drink. "It's a pretty big change, though. Especially coming into the final year." "I know." "You don't seem too bothered by it." Y/N shrugged. "I'm good at pretending." Mina laughed, assuming it was a joke. Y/N smiled along with her. "Well, I'm glad you transferred," Uraraka said. "It's nice having someone new around." "Yeah," Jirou added. "You're not as annoying as I expected." Y/N looked at her. "You expected me to be annoying?" "I don't know. Mina talks a lot." "HEY!" "I'm just saying." Y/N laughed, shaking her head. For a while, the conversation drifted toward more ordinary things. Music, school, movies, and the upcoming school festival. Mina wanted to organize something for the class, Uraraka was considering helping with decorations, and Jirou was apparently being volunteered for musical duties whether she liked it or not. Y/N listened, occasionally contributing, and for the first time since arriving at U.A., she wasn't thinking about the photograph. She wasn't thinking about the messages. She was just a girl sitting at a café with her friends. It was nice.

On the way back, the group stopped at a small convenience store to pick up drinks. Y/N volunteered to pay for the snacks while the others waited outside, and she was standing near the refrigerated section when she heard a familiar voice behind her. "You're blocking the damn door." She turned. Bakugo stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, looking thoroughly unimpressed. For a moment, she simply stared at him. "Do you ever greet people normally?" "Move." "Good to see you, too." She stepped aside, allowing him to reach into the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the door. "What are you doing here?" "Shopping." He looked at the basket in her hand. "Obviously." "Then why ask?" "Because I was hoping you'd say something intelligent." Y/N gave him a flat look. "You must be disappointed constantly." He scoffed, moving toward the counter. She followed a few seconds later, still holding her basket. "Are you here alone?" she asked. "No." He paid for his water and picked up the receipt. "Kirishima and the others are outside." "Of course they are." "What does that mean?" "Nothing. Just seems like you'd have a hard time getting rid of them." He gave her a sideways glance. "Unlike you, they know when to shut up." "I'm sure that's why you keep them around." He didn't answer. They left the store a moment apart, and Mina immediately spotted them. "BAKUGO?" She looked between him and Y/N. "What are you doing here?" "Buying something, obviously," he replied, holding up his water. Kirishima laughed. "We were just getting food." "I can see that." Kaminari appeared behind him. "Oh, hey! The whole gang's here!" Jirou sighed. "Unfortunately." The next few minutes consisted of everyone talking over one another, with Mina insisting they should all go somewhere together and Bakugo repeatedly refusing. Y/N stood slightly apart, watching the exchange with amusement. "You're not coming?" Kirishima asked Bakugo. "No." "Come on, man." "I said no." Mina looked toward Y/N. "What about you?" "I'm already here." "Perfect! We're all going to get dinner." Y/N opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Bakugo spoke. "Why the hell are you asking her?" She turned toward him. "Because I can answer for myself?" "Then answer." "I'd love to." "You're both exhausting," Jirou muttered. Eventually, Bakugo left with Kirishima and Kaminari, although not before Kirishima convinced him to wait while everyone decided where to eat. Y/N watched them walk ahead. "He's always like that?" she asked. Mina nodded. "Pretty much." "How does anyone tolerate him?" Uraraka smiled. "He's actually a good person." Y/N looked at her. "Are we talking about the same person?" "He just doesn't show it very well." Jirou shrugged. "He's got a good heart. Terrible delivery." Y/N considered that for a moment. "I'll take your word for it."

Dinner turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant affair. They found a small restaurant a few streets away, where everyone squeezed around a table that was probably designed for considerably fewer people. Bakugo spent most of the meal arguing with Kaminari, Kirishima told an embarrassing story about something that had happened during their second year, and Mina laughed so hard at one point that she nearly spilled her drink. Y/N found herself participating more than she expected. She talked with Uraraka about her previous school, listened to Jirou's music recommendations, and even managed to have a relatively normal conversation with Todoroki when he arrived with Midoriya halfway through the meal. Midoriya seemed genuinely happy to see her. "Oh, Y/N! I didn't know you were coming out tonight." "Neither did I, honestly." He laughed. "I'm glad you did." Todoroki sat down beside him, looking at the collection of food on the table. "There's a lot of food." "That's because Kaminari ordered enough for six people," Jirou replied. "I was hungry!" "You always are," Sero said. Y/N was reaching for her drink when she noticed Bakugo looking at her from across the table. Their eyes met. He looked away almost immediately. She frowned slightly, wondering what his problem was this time, before returning to the conversation. A few minutes later, Midoriya began talking about an upcoming hero analysis assignment. Y/N listened, occasionally glancing toward him when he mentioned different strategies. She liked listening to him talk about hero work. There was an enthusiasm in his voice that was difficult not to appreciate. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. He genuinely loved what he did. "You know," Midoriya said, turning toward her, "I'd actually be interested in hearing your thoughts on the assignment. Your approach during the case study this morning was really good." "Thanks." "Maybe we could compare notes sometime?" "Sure." "Great!" Bakugo made a quiet noise of irritation. "Deku, stop bothering her." Midoriya blinked. "I'm not bothering her." "You talk too much." Y/N looked across the table. "That's rich coming from you." Kaminari immediately put his drink down. "Oh, here we go." Bakugo narrowed his eyes. "What was that?" "Nothing." "You wanna repeat it?" "Not particularly." He looked at her for another second before turning away. "Tch." Y/N returned to her food, trying not to smile. She was beginning to think that annoying him was going to become a hobby.

By the time they returned to the dormitories, it was late enough that most of the common room lights had been turned down. Y/N said goodnight to everyone and headed upstairs, carrying the small shopping bag she'd bought earlier. She was almost at her bedroom when she noticed something on the floor outside her door. A folded piece of paper. She stopped. For a moment, she simply stared at it. Then she looked down the hallway. Empty. She glanced behind her. Nothing. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up. There was no envelope, no name, and no writing on the outside. She unfolded it carefully. It was a small receipt. Old, yellowed slightly with age, and creased down the middle. At the top was the name of a store she didn't recognize. Beneath it was a date from several years earlier. And at the bottom, written in blue ink, was a short message. You used to like the strawberry ones. Y/N stared at it. She read the sentence again, then turned the receipt over. Nothing. She looked toward the hallway once more, her expression tightening. It wasn't a threat. It wasn't even particularly frightening. That was what made it worse. Whoever had left it knew something about her. Something small, ordinary, and personal. Something she couldn't remember telling anyone. She stepped inside her room and locked the door behind her. For several minutes, she stood beside her desk, holding the receipt between her fingers. Then she pulled out her phone and opened the photograph. She enlarged the image again, studying the little girl standing between Midoriya and Bakugo. The girl was holding something in her hand. The silver key. Y/N looked at the receipt, then back at the photograph. She had no idea what the two things had to do with one another. She didn't even know whether they were connected. But the feeling in her chest was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She placed the receipt inside the drawer of her desk and shut it. Tomorrow, she decided, she would ask someone about it. Maybe Midoriya. Maybe Bakugo, if she could get him to have a conversation without threatening to throw something at her. For tonight, she wanted to forget about it. She changed into her pajamas, washed her face, and climbed into bed. She had just turned off the lamp when her phone vibrated. Her heart immediately sank. She reached for it. A message from Mina. GIRL I FORGOT TO ASK. DID YOU BUY THE BLACK NECKLACE OR THE SILVER ONE??? Y/N stared at the screen. Then, despite everything, she laughed. Silver. Mina responded almost immediately. GOOD. IT LOOKED BETTER. Y/N set her phone down, smiling faintly. It was almost midnight when she finally fell asleep.

The following morning, Bakugo arrived at breakfast earlier than usual. He had barely slept, although he would have rather swallowed glass than admit it. He was irritated, tired, and increasingly annoyed by the fact that a photograph from several years ago had somehow managed to occupy more of his thoughts than anything else. He poured himself a glass of water and sat at the counter. Kirishima entered a few minutes later, yawning. "Morning, bro." "Tch." "You sleep okay?" "Fine." Kirishima glanced at him. "You look tired." Bakugo shot him a glare. "Don't start." "Okay, okay." Kirishima grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. "Hey, you know what I was thinking?" "Unfortunately." "We should probably do something with the new girl. You know, help her settle in." Bakugo frowned. "What?" "Y/N. She's still getting used to everyone." "She's been here for days." "Exactly." "She's fine." Kirishima shrugged. "Probably. Still, it'd be nice." Bakugo took another drink of water. "Then go be nice." Kirishima laughed. "You could try it sometime." "Fuck off." A few moments later, Y/N entered the common room. She was wearing her uniform, her hair falling over one shoulder, and she looked considerably more rested than she had the previous morning. She greeted Kirishima, nodded toward Bakugo, and began preparing breakfast. "Morning," Kirishima said. "Morning." She glanced at Bakugo. "Good morning." "Tch." She looked at Kirishima. "Does he know any other greetings?" "We're still working on that." Bakugo ignored them. Y/N reached for a cup, then paused. "Actually, Bakugo?" He looked up. "What?" "Do you remember anything about the old photographs from when you were younger? Like, school pictures or family photos?" His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Why?" "Just curious." "No." She nodded, taking a sip of water. "Okay." He watched her for a moment. "Why are you asking?" She hesitated. "I found something." "What?" "Nothing important." "Then why bring it up?" She looked at him. "Because I wanted to ask." He clicked his tongue, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. "You're weird." "And you're charming." Kirishima laughed into his cereal. Bakugo turned away, muttering something under his breath. Y/N finished preparing her breakfast and sat at the counter, quietly eating while the others began arriving. It was an ordinary morning. A normal conversation. Nothing unusual happened. And yet, when she glanced toward the window, she noticed something that made her pause. The sunlight was coming through at an angle, stretching everyone's shadows across the floor. Hers lay beside her chair, perfectly still. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a second shadow beside it. Small. Child-sized. Standing just behind her. She blinked. It was gone. She looked down again, frowning slightly. "You okay?" Uraraka asked as she sat beside her. Y/N looked up. "Yeah." She took another bite of breakfast. "Just tired."

Across the room, Bakugo noticed her looking at the floor. He followed her gaze, then looked away. He didn't know why, but something about the way she'd paused had made him uncomfortable. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't explain much about her at all.

And that, more than anything, was beginning to piss him off.

Chapter 6: Shape of a memory

The strange thing about U.A. was that Y/N was beginning to feel like she belonged there. It wasn't something that had happened all at once, nor was it something she'd consciously decided. It was little things, mostly. Knowing which staircase was quickest to get to the training grounds, remembering that Kaminari was almost always late, learning that Jirou preferred her music loud enough to drown out everyone else, and discovering that Midoriya had a habit of apologizing to inanimate objects whenever he accidentally bumped into them. It was the little things that made a place feel familiar. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N was starting to settle into a routine. There was only one problem. She still couldn't stop thinking about the receipt. It had been sitting in the drawer of her desk for two days, and she'd probably taken it out and read it at least twenty times. You used to like the strawberry ones. It was such a ridiculously ordinary sentence. There was no threat, no warning, no explanation. Just a statement that someone apparently expected her to understand. She had considered asking Midoriya about it, but something kept stopping her. She didn't know what she expected him to say. And Bakugo was hardly an option. She'd sooner ask a brick wall for advice. So she'd kept quiet. For now.

"Y/N."

She looked up from her breakfast. Midoriya was standing beside the table, holding a notebook and looking slightly hesitant. "Morning, Midoriya." "Morning! Um, I was wondering if you wanted to walk to class with us?" He gestured toward the entrance, where Todoroki was waiting with his hands in his pockets. "We're heading out now." "Sure." She picked up her bag and stood. "Thanks." Todoroki gave her a small nod when she approached. "Good morning." "Morning." The three started toward the classroom, and for a while the conversation remained fairly ordinary. Midoriya was explaining something about the upcoming practical assessments, while Todoroki occasionally offered observations that were either surprisingly insightful or completely unrelated. Y/N was listening when Midoriya suddenly turned toward her. "Oh, I forgot to ask. How are you finding everything so far?" "It's good. A little chaotic." Todoroki nodded. "That is an accurate description of our class." "I've noticed." Midoriya laughed. "You'll get used to it." They reached the classroom just as the warning bell sounded. Y/N was heading toward her desk when Midoriya spoke again. "Actually, there's something else." She turned. "Yeah?" He hesitated, looking down at the notebook in his hands. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in looking through some old class photographs with me sometime." Y/N's expression changed slightly. "Old photographs?" "Yeah. I was thinking maybe seeing some of them might help you remember something." She studied him. "You think I knew you before?" Midoriya looked genuinely uncertain. "I don't know. I just have this feeling." Before she could answer, a chair scraped loudly behind them. "Deku, sit down." Bakugo dropped into his seat, throwing his bag beside the desk. Midoriya turned. "I was just talking to her." "Then finish talking somewhere else." Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with people having conversations?" "I've got a problem with you standing around in the way." She glanced at the completely unobstructed aisle. "Tragic. I'll try to recover." Midoriya made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before quickly covering it with a cough. Bakugo noticed. "What's so funny, nerd?" "Nothing!" "Then shut up." Aizawa entered before the conversation could continue, and everyone quickly returned to their seats.

The morning's lesson was an introduction to the final-year hero evaluation program. Aizawa explained that the next several weeks would involve a combination of practical assessments, rescue simulations, and individual combat exercises designed to prepare the class for their remaining licensing requirements and eventual professional placements. Y/N listened carefully, taking notes as he outlined the schedule. "You'll be working in rotating groups," he explained. "Some exercises will involve familiar partners. Others won't. I want you to be capable of adapting to people whose abilities and methods you don't necessarily understand." Kaminari raised his hand. "Does that mean we get to choose our partners?" "No." "Worth asking." "It wasn't." Aizawa continued, bringing up the first exercise on the screen. The class would be divided into small teams and given a simulated urban rescue scenario. Their objective was to locate several civilians hidden throughout a training structure, identify potential hazards, and evacuate everyone within a set time limit. "The emphasis is rescue, not combat," Aizawa said. "If I see anyone treating this like a competition, I'll personally make sure you regret it." His eyes briefly settled on Bakugo. "Why are you looking at me?" Bakugo demanded. "No reason." A few students laughed. Y/N looked down at her notebook, trying not to smile. Aizawa began reading out the groups. "Yaoyorozu, Jirou, Kaminari, and Sero. Uraraka, Ashido, Kirishima, and Hagakure. Todoroki, Midoriya, Bakugo, and..." He paused, checking his list. "Y/N." There was a brief silence. Y/N slowly looked toward the three boys. Midoriya seemed pleased. Todoroki looked completely indifferent. Bakugo looked as though someone had just informed him that he had to spend the afternoon cleaning toilets. "You've got to be kidding me." Aizawa didn't look up. "Problem?" "No." "Good." Y/N leaned back in her chair. "Looking forward to it." Bakugo turned his head. "Don't start." "I haven't started anything." "You will." "You seem very confident about that." Todoroki looked between them. "I think this will be an interesting team." "Don't encourage them," Midoriya whispered.

The exercise began shortly after lunch. Their assigned training environment was a partially constructed urban block, complete with narrow alleyways, damaged staircases, simulated fires, and several rooms containing rescue mannequins. The four students stood outside the entrance while Aizawa explained the scenario. "A small explosion has caused structural damage to the eastern section of the building. There are four civilians inside, two of whom are located on the upper floors. You have fifteen minutes. Your communication and decision-making will be evaluated." He looked at each of them. "Understand?" Midoriya nodded immediately. Todoroki gave a quiet confirmation. Y/N adjusted the strap of her gloves. Bakugo simply clicked his tongue. "Go." The four entered the building. Midoriya immediately began assessing the surroundings, muttering observations beneath his breath. "The eastern wall looks unstable, so we should probably avoid that section. Todoroki, could you check the upper floors? Your ice might help reinforce the staircase if necessary. Bakugo, maybe you could—" "I know what I'm doing, Deku." "Right. Sorry." Y/N looked toward the dark corridor on their left. "I'll check this side." Midoriya nodded. "Good idea. Stay in contact." She extended her hand, allowing a thin tendril of darkness to slip beneath the doorway. It moved through the corridor, stretching around a corner before stopping near a small pile of rubble. She closed her eyes briefly, concentrating on the faint sensations coming back through it. "There's something moving in the next room." Bakugo glanced over. "A civilian?" "Probably." "Then move." "I'm getting there." She stepped forward, her shadow sliding ahead of her. The room was small, with a collapsed shelf blocking part of the entrance. A rescue mannequin lay beneath a fallen section of ceiling. Y/N crouched, extending two tendrils around the debris. "I've got it." She pulled carefully, lifting the broken structure just enough to free the mannequin. "Got one." Midoriya appeared in the doorway. "Great! We'll mark the location and—" A loud crack interrupted him. Y/N looked up. A section of the ceiling had shifted. "Move!" She pulled the mannequin backward as a chunk of simulated concrete dropped from above. Midoriya jumped out of the way, while Todoroki quickly raised a wall of ice to support the remaining structure. Bakugo blasted a piece of debris away from the entrance. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE STANDING, IDIOTS!" "I was watching!" Y/N snapped. "Then watch harder!" She glared at him, but the argument was interrupted by Midoriya pointing toward the opposite end of the room. "There's another one! Behind that wall!" Y/N turned. Her shadow stretched toward the opening, slipping through a narrow gap. She felt something immediately. A heartbeat? No. It was difficult to distinguish. There was a strange pressure, almost like someone standing very close to her despite being several feet away. She frowned. "There's someone in there." "Can you reach them?" Midoriya asked. "I think so." She extended her hand again. The tendril slipped through the gap, reaching toward the figure on the other side. Then it stopped. Y/N's fingers twitched. Something was wrong. The darkness wasn't responding the way it should. It had gone completely still. "Y/N?" Midoriya asked. She tried to pull it back. Nothing happened. For a split second, the surrounding room seemed to grow darker. The shadows beneath the rubble stretched toward her, almost imperceptibly, as if something had pulled them in her direction. She stared at them. Then a voice, so faint she almost mistook it for her own thoughts, slipped through her mind.

Not yet.

Her hand jerked backward. The tendril snapped away from the gap, disappearing beneath her feet. "What the hell?" Bakugo muttered. Y/N blinked, looking around. The room was normal again. The shadows were where they belonged. "Nothing." "That didn't look like nothing," Todoroki observed. "I'm fine." Bakugo scoffed. "There it is again." She turned toward him. "What?" "That stupid answer." "Can you worry about yourself for once?" "I'm trying to finish this damn exercise." "Then do it." "Both of you," Midoriya interrupted, "we need to focus." He looked toward the opening. "Y/N, can you try again?" She hesitated. Then she nodded. This time, the tendril moved normally, reaching through the gap and locating the mannequin. With Todoroki's help, they cleared enough debris to retrieve it. The rest of the exercise went smoothly, although Y/N remained unusually quiet for the remainder of it. She couldn't stop thinking about the voice. It hadn't sounded like a memory. It hadn't sounded like someone speaking aloud. It had felt like something had been waiting for her to listen.

By the time they finished, their team had recovered all four civilians with just under two minutes remaining. Aizawa gave them a reasonably good evaluation, although he criticized their communication and pointed out that Bakugo had nearly caused an unnecessary structural collapse by using too much force. "The objective was rescue," Aizawa reminded him. "Not destruction." "I know that." "Then act like it." Y/N stood beside Todoroki, trying not to smile. Bakugo noticed anyway. "Something funny?" "No." "You look like you're about to laugh." "Maybe I'm just happy we survived working together." Todoroki looked at her. "I don't think the exercise was particularly dangerous." "Thank you, Todoroki." Bakugo scoffed and walked away. Midoriya watched him go before turning toward Y/N. "Are you okay?" She nodded. "Yeah." He hesitated. "You seemed a little distracted earlier." "Just lost my concentration." "Oh. Okay." He didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't question her further. "You did really well, though." "Thanks. You too." Midoriya smiled. "We should probably work together again sometime." "Maybe." "Great!" He hurried off to catch up with Todoroki, leaving Y/N standing near the training entrance. She looked down at her hands. There was a faint ache in her fingers, and she flexed them once before slipping them into her pockets. She was starting to wonder whether the problem with her quirk was something she could actually control.

The afternoon passed slowly. After changing out of her training clothes, Y/N returned to the dormitory and found the common room almost empty. She considered going upstairs, but the thought of sitting alone with her thoughts wasn't particularly appealing. Instead, she wandered into the kitchen, where she found Kirishima attempting to prepare something that looked suspiciously like a meal. "Please tell me you know how to cook," she said. He looked over his shoulder. "I know enough." She glanced at the pan. "That's concerning." "Hey! I'm getting better." "Is that supposed to be burning?" He looked down. "Oh, shit." Y/N laughed, stepping closer. "Move." "You can cook?" "Better than whatever this is." She took the spatula from him and lowered the heat. Kirishima watched as she salvaged what was left of the food. "Okay, that's actually impressive." "It's not difficult." "You should teach me sometime." "Maybe." He leaned against the counter. "So, how are you settling in?" She glanced at him. "Good." "Really?" "Yeah. Everyone's been nice." He grinned. "Told you." She stirred the food, considering whether to ask him something. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course." "Has Bakugo always been like that?" Kirishima laughed. "Pretty much." "That's unfortunate." "He's actually improved a lot." She looked at him skeptically. "I find that difficult to believe." "No, seriously. He's a lot better than he used to be." Y/N raised an eyebrow. "What was he like before?" Kirishima paused, thinking. "Well... angry. More angry than he is now, if you can believe it. He used to have a pretty hard time working with other people." "And now?" "Still has a hard time working with other people." She laughed. "Progress." "Exactly." Kirishima grinned, then glanced toward the stairs. "He does care, though. Even if he doesn't show it." Y/N shook her head. "You guys really are committed to defending him." "He's our friend." "Fair enough." She finished preparing the food and placed it on a plate. Kirishima immediately reached for it. "Hey, wait. That's mine." "You made it!" "I fixed it." "Same thing." She laughed, pulling the plate away. "Make your own." "That's cruel." "I'm learning from the best." From the doorway, a familiar voice interrupted them. "What the hell are you two doing?" Bakugo stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking between them. "Cooking," Y/N answered. "Clearly." His eyes moved to the stove. "You're doing it wrong." She stared at him. "I literally just fixed it." "You lowered the heat too much." "Would you like to take over?" "No." "Then shut up." Kirishima started laughing. Bakugo glared at him. "What's so funny?" "Nothing, bro." Bakugo muttered something before opening the refrigerator. Y/N shook her head and carried her plate toward the counter. As she passed him, he spoke again. "Your hand." She stopped. "What?" He nodded toward her fingers. "You're shaking." She looked down. Her right hand was trembling slightly. She hadn't noticed. She curled her fingers into her palm. "It's nothing." "You sure?" The question came out so abruptly that she almost missed it. She looked at him. For once, he wasn't glaring. He simply seemed annoyed, although she couldn't tell whether it was with her or the situation. "I'm fine," she repeated. His expression hardened. "Whatever." He shut the refrigerator and left the kitchen. Y/N watched him disappear, then looked down at her hand again.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She'd tried reading, listening to music, and even scrolling through her phone, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the training room. The gap in the wall. The motionless tendril. The shadows stretching toward her. And that voice. Not yet. She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. There was a glass of water on her nightstand, and she reached for it before noticing something strange. Her reflection in the dark window wasn't moving. She froze. Slowly, she lowered her hand. The reflection remained perfectly still. Her stomach tightened. She turned toward the window completely. The room behind her was dark, illuminated only by the faint light coming from the hallway beneath her door. She lifted her hand again. Her reflection followed this time. Y/N stared at the glass for several seconds, trying to convince herself she'd imagined it. Then she noticed something else. A small shape standing behind her reflection. A child. She spun around. Nothing. Her breathing quickened. She looked back at the window. The shape was gone. "Okay," she whispered to herself. "Okay, that's enough." She stood, switched on the bedside lamp, and walked toward the bathroom. She splashed cold water onto her face and stared at herself in the mirror. Everything looked normal. Her eyes were their usual color. Her skin was pale beneath the bathroom lighting, but otherwise there was nothing unusual. She gripped the edge of the sink and took a slow breath. It was stress. That was all. She was in a new school, surrounded by unfamiliar people, and dealing with a quirk she still didn't completely understand. It made sense that she was tired. It made sense that she was imagining things. She returned to her bedroom, but before getting back into bed, she glanced at her desk. The drawer containing the receipt was slightly open. She stopped. She distinctly remembered closing it. Slowly, she approached the desk and pulled the drawer open. The receipt was still there. The photograph was beside it. She hadn't put the photograph there. She picked it up, looking at the image. The three children. The white hallway. The little silver key. Her fingers tightened around the edges. Then she noticed something. The photograph had been folded. Not recently, either. There were two distinct creases running down the middle, as if someone had once folded it into a much smaller square and kept it in their pocket. She turned it over. There was writing on the back. She hadn't noticed it before because the ink had faded almost completely into the paper. She moved closer to the lamp, tilting the photograph until the writing became visible.

For the three of you. Don't let them separate you again.

Y/N read it once.

Then again.

Her eyes moved toward the date printed beneath the sentence. It was several years old. She sat down slowly, the photograph still in her hands. She didn't know who had written it. She didn't know who them referred to. And she certainly didn't know what it meant to be separated. But for the first time, she had a feeling that the photograph wasn't simply an old picture of three children who happened to know one another.

It was evidence of something.

Something that had happened long before she arrived at U.A.

And somewhere, in a bedroom across the hall, Bakugo Katsuki was staring at the same photograph on his phone.

He had finally managed to enlarge the writing on the back. He'd found the original image in an old folder, one he hadn't opened in years, and the words had been there the entire time. He read them again, jaw tightening.

For the three of you. Don't let them separate you again.

His thumb hovered over the screen.

He remembered something now.

Not enough to understand it. Not enough to explain why the girl in the photograph had been standing between him and Deku. But he remembered a voice. A woman's voice, perhaps. He remembered being told to look after someone. He remembered a door closing. And he remembered being angry.

Very angry.

He locked his phone and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Who the hell were you?"

He didn't know whether he was talking about the girl in the photograph or the girl sleeping across the hall.

Maybe that was the problem.