Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before quirks and schoolyard ranks tangled their friendship, the world was small and easy for Kaia, Izuku, and Katsuki.

The three of them had fallen into friendship the way kids do — naturally, without question. Their days were a steady rhythm of sticky hands from snacks, scraped knees from playground adventures, and the kind of laughter that left their faces sore. Kaia had met Izuku and Katsuki in kindergarten, and from day one, it was like the universe clicked them together.

Kaia was always the curious, slightly cautious one. Izuku, wide-eyed and excitable, filled in the gaps with pure enthusiasm. And Katsuki — Katsuki was the storm, wild and confident, daring the world to keep up.

Their mothers — Amara Mikage, Inko Midoriya, and Mitsuki Bakugo — often joked that the trio was attached at the hip. Weekends were a cycle of playdates, either at Kaia’s cozy home, the Bakugos’ bustling house, or the Midoriyas' quiet apartment. Their fathers, when they had the day off, would join in too. Kaia's dad, Zaire, and Katsuki’s father, Masaru, had a habit of standing around the grill during backyard gatherings, flipping burgers and trading lighthearted jokes while the kids ran wild in the grass.

Kaia had always loved those days. The scent of barbecue, her mother and Inko’s soft voices from the porch, Mitsuki’s sharp laugh cutting through the air, and the sound of Katsuki daring Izuku to climb higher or run faster. And even though Kaia wasn’t as loud or headstrong as Bakugo, she was always right there beside them — throwing her all into their games, her mind always ticking with ideas.

One early spring afternoon stood out most. The grass was still damp from the rain the night before, but that hadn’t stopped the three of them from launching into an elaborate game of "Pro Heroes." Izuku had created the rules, Katsuki had chosen the roles, and Kaia had drawn the imaginary city borders with sticks in the dirt.

Izuku scribbled down ideas in his worn little notebook, his head full of theories and what-ifs. Katsuki, of course, declared himself the strongest hero in the world.

“Once my quirk shows up, I’ll be the best,” Bakugo bragged, planting his feet wide and puffing out his chest like a miniature pro.

“You don’t know that yet, Kacchan,” Izuku had pointed out, always hopeful but honest.

“Yeah!” Kaia had chimed in, brushing dirt off her knees. “Mine could be cool too! Maybe I’ll be the strongest.”

They’d stood there, three kids not yet aware of the world’s sharp edges, imagining the future like it was theirs for the taking. There was no jealousy yet. No distance. Just hope.

At night, when the sun set and their energy finally ran dry, the kids would curl up inside Kaia’s living room. The grown-ups would settle on the couches around them, swapping stories about work, or in her father’s case, hero duties. Zaire’s voice was deep and calming, always steady, always reliable. Kaia had felt safe there — wrapped up in warmth, the soft sounds of their parents' conversations filling the room like a blanket.

Those were the years before things started to shift.

When home was still a place where her parents smiled at each other. When Izuku still believed he'd awaken a quirk any day now. When Katsuki hadn’t yet learned how to sharpen his words into weapons.

And for Kaia, those memories would become something soft to fall back on. Proof that there was a time when it wasn’t all so complicated. Proof that once, the three of them were just kids, dreaming about being heroes.

*****

The Mikage household was buzzing with that warm, gentle hum only a sleepover could bring. The living room was a sea of pillows and soft, mismatched blankets, with a bowl of popcorn sitting forgotten on the coffee table — half-eaten, the other half scattered around from an earlier pillow fight.

The three of them — Kaia, Izuku, and Katsuki — lay side by side on the living room floor, tucked into their cozy fortress of couch cushions and plush toys. The TV played softly in the background, looping old All Might cartoons, but none of them were really watching anymore.

Outside, rain tapped against the windows, steady and soothing. The kind of night where the world felt a little smaller, a little safer.

Kaia was nestled between the boys, her head resting on her favorite pillow, the one her mom had stitched with little earth-toned patterns. Her father, Zaire, had promised to stay up until the movie ended, but the second the credits rolled, he’d retreated to the kitchen with Amara for a late-night cup of tea.

The kids whispered like conspirators, voices barely above the sound of the rain.

“My hero name’s gonna be the best,” Katsuki mumbled confidently, his voice heavy with drowsiness. “When I get my quirk, no one’s gonna beat me.”

Izuku, lying on his stomach, clutching his All Might plush close, stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed despite the late hour. “What if it’s a strength quirk? Or a speed quirk? Or something we don’t even know yet?”

Kaia stretched her legs out under the blanket, her mind flicking through the endless possibilities, though part of her wondered about her parents — how her dad always looked tired when he came home, and how her mom lingered longer by the windows some nights.

“Whatever it is,” she whispered, “I just want mine to be... helpful.” Her voice trailed off for a moment before she added, “I wanna protect people, like my dad does.”

There was a soft pause. None of them were old enough to really understand the weight of what they were saying, but in that moment, the three of them shared the same dream: to be strong enough to protect the people they loved.

Katsuki grunted, not fully awake but still stubborn. “Tch. I’ll protect you both.”

Izuku smiled, a little shy and small, and Kaia let out a quiet laugh.

The rain kept falling, and soon the conversation faded into soft breathing. One by one, they drifted off, tangled in their blanket fort, feet kicking each other under the covers without even realizing.

When Zaire peeked back into the room an hour later, the sight of them — the future, his daughter and her two closest friends — all curled up and fast asleep, made him smile.

Amara joined him a moment later, resting her head on his shoulder.

“They’ll be fine,” she whispered. “They have each other.”

And for a long time, they did.

*****

The sunlit kindergarten classroom hummed with the usual sounds of children lost in their own little worlds. Crayons scraped across paper, soft chatter drifted like clouds, and the rustle of construction paper filled the air. Kaia sat between Izuku and Katsuki at their shared table, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she tried to color inside the lines of her drawing — a purple hero cape on a stick-figure version of her father.

It was a normal day. It should’ve stayed a normal day.

At first, it was barely noticeable. A strange sensation deep in her chest, like the ground had let out a sigh beneath her feet. Her crayon paused mid-stroke, her small hand trembling slightly. She blinked and looked around. The room hadn’t changed — but something had. The world felt... louder, but not through her ears.

Then it hit all at once.

The scrape of chair legs against the tile sounded like thunder. Footsteps echoed from down the hallway as if the entire building was stomping. Someone bouncing a ball outside felt like a series of miniature earthquakes pulsing straight through her shoes. She could feel it all, not just hear it. The world wasn’t still anymore — it was awake, and it was too much.

The crayon slipped from her fingers, rolling off the table unnoticed.

Izuku, sitting to her left and carefully sketching All Might’s smile, noticed her first. His bright, curious eyes flicked toward her pale face.
“Kaia? You okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Katsuki noticed next, his usual scowl softening just a little as he followed Izuku’s gaze.
“Hey,” he mumbled, nudging her arm. “What’s wrong?”

But Kaia couldn’t answer. Her throat felt too tight, her chest too full of the pounding rhythm of the earth. It was like every rock and pebble within a mile was whispering to her, shouting, vibrating against her bones.

The teacher’s voice called her name, soft but concerned. The moment the woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, Kaia flinched at the touch, feeling the pulse of the teacher’s heartbeat through her palm. Tears welled up in Kaia’s eyes, more from fear than pain.

The teacher knelt in front of her, eyes kind but serious.
“Kaia, sweetheart, do you feel sick?”

She nodded slowly, unable to form the words, overwhelmed and small under the weight of the new sensations.

The school called her parents, explaining the sudden change in their usually bright, energetic daughter. And when the sound of an old, familiar truck engine rumbled up the driveway, Kaia recognized it instantly. It was the only sound that didn’t overwhelm her.

Her father, Zaire Mikage — better known to the world as Pro Hero Bedrock — stepped into the classroom, his tall frame filling the doorway. The moment Kaia saw him, something inside her loosened, and the tears spilled over, soft and soundless. She stood up shakily, walking straight into his open arms without a word.

Zaire knelt down to her level, wrapping her in his strong, steady embrace. His quirk had made his body naturally dense and sturdy, and for the first time all day, Kaia felt grounded against him. The chaos of the world dulled slightly, her little head pressed to his chest as he lifted her up.

“I got you, baby girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping the back of her head. “You’re alright. I’m here.”

The teacher explained the sudden shift as Zaire signed her out early, but he already knew. There was no fear in his face, just understanding. He carried her to the truck, buckled her in, and kept one large hand resting gently on her knee the whole ride home, giving her all the quiet support he could.

At home, Zaire set her on the living room couch, tucking a warm blanket around her small frame. The world still whispered at the edge of her senses, but not as sharply now. Her father crouched beside her, resting his elbow on his knee, watching her carefully.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

Kaia blinked up at him, her voice quiet but clear.
“The ground was talking, Daddy. I felt everything. Even... even the ball outside.”

Zaire let out a small, proud chuckle and ran a hand over her curly hair.
“That’s your quirk, baby. Just like me — but looks like you’ve got sharper instincts than I ever did.”

Kaia’s lower lip trembled slightly, still unsure how to feel about the world becoming so big and alive all at once. But her father’s calm, steady presence helped anchor her. He didn’t treat her like something was wrong. He acted like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, ruffling her hair gently. “It’ll stop feeling so loud after a while. And when it does? You’ll be able to do amazing things with it, Kaia.”

She nodded, believing him. If anyone knew how to handle something like this, it was her father.

That night, Amara sat beside her on the couch too, holding her hand as Zaire explained the quirk, how to breathe through the overwhelming noise, and how the earth could be more of a friend than an enemy once she learned to listen the right way. Her parents’ calm, loving responses dulled the fear lingering in her chest.

And from that day on, the earth was never silent for Kaia again.

It was the start of something new — and deep down, even as a kid, she knew it.

*****

A few days had passed since the overwhelming afternoon in kindergarten, and though the world still hummed beneath her feet like a song only she could hear, Kaia was slowly learning how to breathe through the noise. Her dad's advice and her mom’s quiet reassurances had helped calm the storm — enough for her to return to class, though she moved a little slower, a little more carefully than before.

The moment she walked into the classroom, her eyes searched for two faces — and there they were, sitting side by side at their usual table: Izuku, colouring a page with way too much focus, and Katsuki, tapping a pencil against the desk, clearly growing impatient waiting for her.

Both boys looked up at once when they spotted her, wide-eyed. Izuku’s face lit up immediately, practically bouncing out of his chair.

"Kaia! You’re back!" he chirped, his freckled face beaming with relief. "We were so worried!"

Katsuki crossed his arms, trying to act like he hadn’t missed her, but his usual sharp tone softened.
"Tch. Took you long enough, dummy. Thought you went and got sick or something."

Kaia fidgeted slightly, walking over to them with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her little jacket. She rocked on her heels, unsure how to even explain what had happened. But both boys waited patiently — or as patiently as Katsuki could manage — giving her the space to talk.

"It wasn’t being sick," she finally said, voice soft but steady. "It was my quirk."

Izuku’s eyes went even wider, practically sparkling.
"Your quirk!? You mean it woke up already?" he asked, leaning forward like he was listening to the best story in the world.

Kaia nodded. "Yeah… it started at school. I could feel everything. The ground, the walls, the people walking around. It felt like the earth was shouting at me."

Katsuki blinked, eyebrows raising. His usual smirk didn’t show up, not this time — instead, there was genuine curiosity. "The earth, huh? That’s... kinda cool."

"That sounds amazing!" Izuku said, hands clutching his notebook as if he was already itching to write this down. "What’s it called? Do you know yet?"

"My dad said it’s called Seismic Sense," she answered, her voice a little surer now. "Like I can feel vibrations through the ground. He has it too."

Katsuki’s mouth twisted slightly into a thoughtful frown. "Figures. Your old man’s a pro hero. Guess it makes sense you’d end up with something strong like that."

Kaia let out a small, sheepish laugh, grateful that neither of them teased her or acted weird about it. Izuku leaned over, his voice warm and full of genuine excitement.
"I bet you’ll be an amazing hero, Kaia! Your quirk sounds perfect for that."

She smiled at him, her nerves finally starting to settle. "Thanks, Izuku."

Katsuki, standing beside them with his hands jammed in his pockets, grunted.
"Just don’t get lazy with it. Quirk or not, you still gotta work to be strong."

Kaia nodded, holding onto both their words. She could feel the quiet strength of the ground beneath her feet, still strange and new — but with her friends by her side, and her parents helping her at home, it didn’t seem so scary anymore.

The three of them spent the rest of the day back to their usual antics: colouring, laughing, and sneaking extra cookies at snack time. Even though her world had changed, the people around her hadn’t. And that, more than anything, made her feel steady again.

Chapter Text

Time moved quietly, but change had a way of creeping in whether they noticed or not.

At 7 and 8 years old, their unshakable little trio still stuck together — walking home from school, sitting side by side during lunch, gathering at the local park on weekends — but the air between them had started to shift. The differences were subtle, but for Kaia, it felt like standing on slightly unsteady ground, the kind her quirk picked up even when her heart didn’t want to.

Katsuki had started growing bolder, louder, sharper. His confidence, which once made her laugh and lifted Izuku’s spirits, had started to twist into something mean-spirited. His words cut in ways that were new and unfamiliar, especially toward Izuku. He would brush it off, pretending not to mind, but Kaia could feel the tension settling in his small shoulders every time.

She never called Katsuki out for it — at least, not in the way people might expect. When he crossed a line, when his words stung a little too deep or his chest puffed with too much pride, Kaia would silently close the space between them, her small hand reaching for his arm or his side, and give him a quick, sharp pinch. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make him flinch and cut his attitude, if only for a moment.

It was their secret way of talking without talking.

Katsuki would whip his head toward her, scowl deep, ready to bark a challenge — but the second his crimson eyes met hers, he’d hesitate. Kaia’s gaze wasn’t angry. Just steady. A quiet, calm warning that he’d gone too far. It always worked. His mouth would click shut, and he’d mutter something under his breath, the edge of his words softening.

Over those years, Kaia grew quieter. Not out of fear or insecurity, but out of thoughtfulness. She became the observer. While the boys clashed more, pushing and pulling like storms colliding, she found herself stepping back. Listening more. Speaking less. Watching how people’s emotions flickered just beneath their words, learning when to stand up and when to let it go.

At home, her parents’ once easy laughter had started to fade too. Her father’s hero work kept him away more often, and when he was home, there were small arguments — quiet ones behind closed doors — about time, responsibility, and distance. Kaia never liked eavesdropping, but her seismic sense made it impossible not to notice the shift in the rhythm of the house.

She didn’t talk about it with the boys. Not then. Instead, she poured herself into her training, her Hung Gar lessons, and her studies — trying to anchor herself in something steady when everything else felt like it was slowly, unnoticeably cracking.

And despite the brewing distance, despite the rougher edges, the three of them still walked the same path home, still shared snacks, still sat together. The bond was fraying at the edges, but it hadn’t broken.

Not yet.

*****

By the time Kaia turned nine, the cracks in her little world were no longer so easy to ignore.

Katsuki’s teasing had turned into full-blown taunting, especially toward Izuku. He didn’t just throw words anymore — he threw challenges, glares, even sparks. What used to be spirited arguments now felt like verbal battles. And Izuku? He still smiled, still tried, but Kaia could see the way his eyes dimmed a little more each time.

It hurt to watch.

Kaia still walked beside them, but she stopped walking between them. She had always tried to be a quiet buffer — a calm in their storm — but she was beginning to realize that some storms didn’t want to be calmed. Some just needed to crash and burn.

So, she stepped back.

She still pinched Katsuki when his comments cut too deep, but even that started to lose its effect. He’d bat her hand away now, scoffing, irritated. And sometimes... sometimes, he’d avoid her gaze entirely. That was new. That was worse.

At home, things weren’t much better.

Her parents fought more openly now. Arguments echoing through the house, heavy with stress and unspoken disappointments. Her father, Zaire — once her unshakeable rock — had started missing more than just dinners. He missed her martial arts demos. Missed her school project presentations. Missed her.

Her mother, Amara, tried to keep things warm. Tried to keep Kaia’s world from falling apart. But even through her mother’s soft words and tired smiles, Kaia could feel the weight she carried.

So Kaia did what she always did — she held it all in.

She threw herself deeper into her studies, her martial arts lessons and quietly refined her quirk. She learned that staying grounded wasn’t just a metaphor. If she let herself focus, really focus, she could listen to the earth like it was breathing. She could feel people’s steps through the soles of her feet. She could predict movement before it happened.

And yet, for all her strength, she felt smaller.

She spoke less at school. Her laughter — once easy and full — came out softer, like she was rationing it. Teachers praised her for her discipline. Friends called her mature. But she wasn’t trying to grow up too fast — she just didn’t know where else to put the hurt.

There were still moments — good ones. Sitting with Izuku during lunch when he looked especially down. Sharing sweets with Katsuki when he was in one of his rare, quiet moods. Movie nights at home when her parents laughed like nothing had ever gone wrong.

But they were moments. Fleeting. Like the last warmth of the sun before dusk.

At ten years old, Kaia Mikage had already learned what most people didn’t figure out until much later:

Not all things break with noise.
Some of them fracture in silence.

*****

By the time Kaia turned eleven, the gaps in their trio had grown into full-on cracks. The laughter that used to come so easily was harder to find. Izuku had gotten quieter, more hesitant, his notebooks filling with hero notes rather than drawings of the three of them saving the day. Katsuki had gotten louder, sharper — pride swelling into arrogance, and the heat in his voice starting to burn everyone around him, even Kaia.

But despite the friction, the bond — frayed as it was — never completely snapped.

Izuku still saved her a seat at lunch, even on the days when her mood had settled deep into her bones and she barely touched her food. He’d chatter about new heroes, about things he’d read, awkward and rambling, trying to fill the silence for her. He never asked her to talk — he just made space for her, like he always had.

And Katsuki... he was rough, distant, like a wolf pacing on the edge of a campfire. But even as the space between them widened, Kaia started to notice small things. If someone so much as whispered something ugly about her behind her back, Katsuki found out. And he’d deal with them. Quietly. Efficiently. And without asking for credit.

Kaia would never confront him about it. She didn’t need to. His silence after those days spoke louder than words ever could.

At home, her parents' marriage wobbled more. Her mother’s smiles stretched thinner. Her father’s excuses grew more frequent, work swallowing his presence. Kaia stopped waiting by the door for him like she used to, and her room became her retreat — soft music, old hero magazines, Hung Gar practice stances sketched in notebooks, and her slowly expanding understanding of her quirk. She found calm in the stillness of the earth beneath her feet, even as the world above her shifted like sand.

Her personality softened even more — less bright and bubbly, calmer and more reserved. Her teachers often called her “an old soul,” but the truth was, Kaia just didn’t have the energy to be loud anymore. She learned to be steady, even when everything else wasn’t.

And though the days of them being a tight trio were quietly fading, neither Izuku nor Katsuki ever stopped orbiting her. Their friendship didn’t look the way it used to — no more sleepovers or backyard adventures — but the care lingered.

They all just held it differently now.

Izuku, in shared quiet lunches.
Katsuki, in sharp glances and unspoken protection.
Kaia, in silent loyalty, even when her heart was sore.

Twelve wasn’t an easy year. But it taught Kaia something deep:
Sometimes love doesn’t leave. It just changes shape.

*****

By the time Kaia turned thirteen, the trio wasn’t really a trio anymore.

The distance had grown from cracks into full-on walls.
Izuku had finally been told — quirkless. The weight of that word settled over him like concrete, and no matter how Kaia tried to be there for him, she could see it in his eyes: the dull, quiet hurt that no friend could fix.

Katsuki, on the other hand, had doubled down on his pride, barking louder, sharper, each achievement stacking like armour. The boy who once helped her climb the monkey bars was almost unrecognizable beneath the sharp edge of his ego. But Kaia still caught glimpses — moments where the old Katsuki peeked through. Like the times when he’d roughhouse other kids behind the school if they said the wrong thing about Izuku or her, even though he pretended he didn’t care.

Kaia had changed, too.

The strain at home had started to show more. Her parents' quiet arguments weren’t so quiet anymore, and the house felt heavier every time her father came home late from patrol. Amara and Zaire still loved each other, Kaia could feel it, but their love sounded more and more like worn-out apologies and less like laughter. The tension pressed her further into herself. She grew more steady, quieter, choosing her words like stones placed carefully in a stream. The soft-spoken girl who used to hum while she studied had learned to savour silence, her body growing stronger from her hung gar practice and her quirk training, but her heart growing a little more guarded each day.

Her relationship with Katsuki and Izuku didn’t shatter — it stretched. It bent. It ached. But it never quite broke.

Even when Katsuki picked fights with Izuku, Kaia stood at the edges, quiet but present. If Katsuki’s words cut too deep, she’d give him one of her signature sharp pinches when no one was looking — her way of pulling him back from going too far. And even if Izuku stopped expecting her to pick sides, she never truly did. She stayed in the space between them, loyal but tired, choosing silence over arguments and steady patience over confrontation.

The beginning of their third year of middle school marked the last time the three of them were ever fully close.

The cold shoulder from Katsuki had grown more routine, and Izuku — still determined but weary — had retreated further into his notebooks. Kaia stayed her quiet self, moving through the days like stone smoothed by water, calm but slightly worn down.

And that’s what led to that afternoon.
The day Katsuki pushed too far.

She hadn’t planned to overhear the words. She’d only been at her locker when Katsuki’s voice cut through the hallway, sharp and unapologetic, aimed right at Izuku.

The old habit flared up in her chest — that pinch of disappointment, that ache for the boy she’d known since they were kids. But when he stepped out of the classroom, his crimson eyes locked with hers, and for the first time in a long time, his gaze softened. Just for a second. She saw the guilt flicker, regret shadowing the sharp edges of his pride.

But Kaia just shook her head.
A small, tired scoff slipped from her lips before she turned and walked away.

She didn’t have it in her to pinch him this time.
She figured the guilt would sting more than she ever could.

Chapter Text

Aldera Junior High — Class 3-C

The air was always the same in this classroom — stale, but buzzing with the low, constant hum of teenage voices. Desks scraped against the floor, shoes squeaked against worn linoleum, and somewhere near the back window, Kaia Mikage sat with her head resting lazily against her arm, her earphones snug and her playlist turned down just enough to let the world bleed through.

Her quirk wasn’t active, not fully — but her seismic sense didn’t need much to notice the shift in rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy, impatient footsteps stormed through the door, vibrating through the desk like an old, familiar beat. Kaia didn’t even have to look.

Katsuki.

A second pair of steps followed, lighter, unsure, and spaced just a little too carefully. She recognized those, too.

Izuku.

Her eyes flicked up for just a second, catching the tail end of the same tired scene. Bakugo dropped into his seat, slamming his bag against the desk like the world owed him something. Midoriya trailed behind, head ducked, hands tight around his notebook, sliding quietly into the seat two rows away.

Kaia felt the ripple of tension settle into the room like dust. It had become routine — the cold distance, the unsaid words, the invisible crack that split the trio apart.

There was a time the three of them filled a classroom with laughter. Kindergarten, grade school, even the first year of middle school had been easier. Back when the world was smaller and quirks didn’t separate kids like iron gates. But then Izuku got his diagnosis. Quirkless. And Katsuki — always so bright, always so fierce — couldn’t stand it.

Neither could Kaia’s family, but for different reasons. Her father was always away, saving the world, and her mother… well, her mother had mastered the art of pretending not to see.

So Kaia learned to pretend, too.

A soft nudge broke her from her thoughts. Beside her, Mitsuri, her only real constant these days, tilted her head and whispered, "Same old fight, huh?"

Kaia gave the smallest shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching into a half-smile. "Yeah. Earth hasn't stopped spinning yet, though."

Mitsuri snorted under her breath and went back to scribbling in her notebook.

Kaia leaned back in her chair, letting her senses drift out again. She could feel the vibrations in the floor — Bakugo’s foot tapping, restless and sharp, like a fuse waiting to burn out. Izuku’s chair creaked as he adjusted his notebook, his hands fidgeting with the edges, trying to disappear into routine.

Kaia looked between them, old memories flickering at the edges of her mind: afternoons spent playing hero, muddy shoes, scraped knees, and the sound of their laughter mixing with the wind.

But that was before.

Now, the ground between them felt as unstable as the world outside.

The teacher’s voice finally cut through the haze, dragging her focus back to the front of the room. She pulled her earphones out and sat up straighter, but her gaze lingered on Izuku, then Katsuki.

Same classroom. Same faces. But everything's different.

And deep down, Kaia knew — no matter how much she tried to stay out of it, the day would come when she couldn’t stand on the sidelines anymore.

*****

The bell rang and the classroom slowly emptied, chairs scraping and voices trailing off into the hallway like water pouring down a drain. Kaia didn’t move, just sat at her desk flipping through the pages of a worn-out sketchbook, doodling shapes and small diagrams of rock formations and quirk theories in the margins.

She felt him before she saw him, footsteps pausing, then shuffling forward again.

"Kaia?"

She glanced up, meeting Izuku’s nervous green eyes. His lunchbox was hugged tight to his chest, notebook half-tucked under his arm like a security blanket.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, almost lazy. She slid her sketchbook closed and motioned toward the empty desk next to her. "Sit."

Izuku hesitated for a second, like the simple kindness might be a trick, then sat.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The classroom hummed with silence, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable — just unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Kaia leaned back in her seat, the faint vibrations of the building keeping her grounded, while Izuku opened his lunch and poked at it more than he actually ate.

"You okay?" she asked finally, eyes flicking over to him.

He fiddled with his chopsticks. "Yeah. Just...Kacchan."

Kaia gave a soft hum, not pressing for more. She didn’t have to. The bruise peeking from under his sleeve told her enough.

"You know how he is," Izuku added quietly, like the words were stuck in his throat. "It’s not like it’s new."

Kaia rested her chin on her palm, studying him. "You don’t have to take it, you know. Even if it’s him."

Izuku’s gaze dropped to his lap, and for a moment the weight of everything unsaid between them pressed in. He’d always been the glue — their voice of reason, their soft heart. But now? He looked like he was trying so hard to hold himself together, Kaia almost wanted to snap the ground beneath Bakugo’s desk just for the hell of it.

Instead, she reached over, plucked the drink carton from his lunch, and poked the straw through for him. A simple gesture. Familiar.

"You’ve still got me," she mumbled, handing it back. "Even if it’s just sometimes."

Izuku looked up, his smile small but genuine. "Thanks, Kaia."

*****

The sun had already dipped low enough to stain the hallway windows gold, shadows stretching long and thin across the floor as the last of the students filtered out for the day.

Kaia lingered by her locker, slipping her earth-toned notebook into her bag with practiced slowness. The vibrations in the floor told her he was coming long before his voice did.

"Oi."

Bakugo leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, expression sharp but not entirely unfriendly. His usual scowl had softened around the edges, just enough for her to notice.

"You talk to Deku today?" he asked, kicking the toe of his shoe against the tile.

Kaia raised an eyebrow, zipping her bag closed. "Yeah. Why?"

"Tch." Bakugo clicked his tongue, gaze darting to the side. "Nothing. Just... saw you two at lunch."

She stepped closer, leaning against the locker next to him, arms crossed loosely. "You know, you don’t have to keep acting like you hate him."

His jaw flexed, teeth grinding slightly. "Not your problem."

"It kind of is," she replied quietly. "You both used to be my problem."

The hallway settled into silence. Kaia could feel the weight of his frustration humming through the soles of her shoes — the same familiar tension she’d known since they were kids. But beneath it, there was something softer. Something that hadn’t quite gone away, no matter how many times he shoved Izuku or picked a fight with anyone breathing too close.

"You’re still important to me, y’know," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Even if things are... different."

Kaia looked over at him, the corners of her mouth twitching into a rare, fond smile. "I know. You just suck at showing it."

Bakugo snorted, straightening up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, well... you’ve got shitty taste in friends anyway."

But as he walked off, his pace slowed just enough to let her catch up — no words needed.

*****

The sharp snap of the dojo doors closing echoed behind Kaia as she adjusted the strap of her bag, muscles still humming from the last round of drills. Her knuckles ached slightly from the focus mitts, but it was a good ache — steady, earned. Hung Gar wasn’t just a martial art her father taught her, it was the closest thing to balance she had, especially when the world felt like it shifted beneath her feet more often than she moved it herself.

The walk home was quiet, just the soft crunch of her shoes on the sidewalk and the city’s muted hum filling the space. When she pushed open the front door, she was greeted not by silence, but laughter — warm and unfiltered, drifting from the kitchen.

Her brow lifted slightly, head tilting toward the sound as she slipped off her shoes. Bag still slung over her shoulder, she padded quietly toward the kitchen entrance, peeking around the corner.

There, at the table, sat her mother — Amara Mikage, sharp-featured and effortlessly elegant even in her casual clothes — flanked by two familiar faces: Inko Midoriya and Mitsuki Bakugo.

The three women were deep in conversation, wine glasses scattered between them, laughter bubbling up over some half-told story. The sight was... nostalgic. It had been this way for as long as Kaia could remember, long before quirks and complicated feelings had tangled their kids apart.

Her mother’s sharp eyes flicked toward the doorway, softening the moment she spotted her.

"Kaia, you’re back."

"Hey, sweetheart!" Inko added warmly, waving her over. Mitsuki, true to form, leaned back in her chair, smirking. "How’s the boulder-breaking business going, huh? Beat anyone up yet?"

Kaia cracked a small smile, the kind that tugged at the corners but rarely reached her eyes. "Not yet. Just practice." She slid her bag off her shoulder, setting it down quietly.

Her mother motioned toward the tea kettle. "Pour yourself something and sit. You haven’t eaten, have you?"

Kaia moved toward the counter, preparing tea with the kind of smooth, practiced efficiency that came from years of doing it while her mother hosted. As the women settled back into their conversation — a mix of stories about work, hero gossip, and their sons' latest antics — Kaia listened quietly.

Inko was talking about Izuku’s notebooks, how he still spent hours filling them up with observations and strategies, a soft pride shining behind her words. Mitsuki chimed in, half-mocking but still undeniably fond, about Katsuki blowing up another school desk when a teacher annoyed him. Amara sat poised between them, a rare, small smile on her lips, sipping her tea.

Kaia sat at the edge of the table, her hands wrapped around the warm cup, the laughter of their mothers filling the room like a reminder — no matter how complicated things got with Izuku and Katsuki, some things never changed.

And even though the trio didn’t orbit each other the same way they once did, their mothers still sat at this table, still shared this bond. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to anchor her for a little while longer.

Kaia lingered at the table for a while, letting the tea's warmth seep into her chest as the women carried on with their easy conversation. Every now and then, she’d chime in — a quiet laugh at one of Mitsuki’s sharp remarks, a soft nod when Inko shared a new Midoriya household anecdote.

Her mother shot her a small glance now and then, one of those unspoken looks that said you’re holding it together better than you think. It was a language they both had learned early.

After a while, Kaia excused herself, her voice quiet but polite. "I’m gonna head up, got some homework left."

Amara tilted her head toward her. "Shower first. You reek of sweat and dust."

Kaia huffed a light laugh. "Yeah, yeah."

She padded upstairs, letting the comfort of routine wash over her. The hot water from the shower eased the tightness from her muscles, but the ache in her chest, the one she couldn’t bend or punch away, lingered. She settled at her desk afterward, the soft scratch of her pen against notebook paper filling the room as the night stretched on.

Later, with her half-empty water bottle in hand, Kaia crept back downstairs, bare feet soft against the cool floor. She was halfway to the kitchen when she heard her mother’s voice float out from the other room — lower this time, softer.

"It breaks my heart," Amara murmured, "watching them drift apart like this. They were inseparable, the three of them."

"Tell me about it," Inko sighed. "Izuku misses them both, even if he won’t say it."

Mitsuki’s voice, blunt but weighted with something rarely heard — regret. "Katsuki's too damn proud to admit it, but he notices. I’ve seen the way he looks at those old pictures when he thinks I’m not paying attention."

Kaia stood frozen at the edge of the hallway, her fingers tightening slightly around her water bottle. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the words held her still, heavy and bittersweet.

A soft, almost strained laugh from her mother followed. "They were so small once. I thought... they'd always stay that close."

Kaia turned away before the conversation could drift further, slipping back to the kitchen as quietly as she could, refilling her bottle under the soft hum of the tap. The water ran clear and steady, but her thoughts rippled like stones dropped into a still pond.

She climbed back up to her room a little slower, her mind stuck on the memory of three small kids, hands dirt-streaked and bright-eyed, running through the neighbourhood like they owned it.

Maybe some things didn’t stay the same — no matter how much you wanted them to.

*****

Back in her room, Kaia tossed her now-full bottle onto her desk, flopping onto her bed with a quiet sigh. The house had settled into its usual nighttime stillness, but her mind wouldn’t quite follow.

She stared at the glow of her phone screen, thumb hovering over her messages.

Her chat with Midoriya was still there, the last message a week old — him sending her a link to some random hero analysis video. She smiled faintly, fingers moving before she could overthink it.

Kaia:
Hey. Hope you’re not drowning in homework. Don’t forget to take a break sometimes, nerd.

She hesitated for a moment, then switched to another chat — Katsuki’s. Their conversations were always shorter, sharp-edged but familiar. She rarely texted him first, but tonight felt different.

Kaia:
Get home safe, idiot.

No fluff, no overthinking. Just enough.

She locked her phone and stared at the ceiling, listening to the faint sound of her mother’s laughter still lingering downstairs.

Even if things weren’t like they used to be, even if they were all walking different paths now — at least for tonight, it felt like that invisible thread between them was still there.

*****

The quiet scratch of Kaia’s pen against paper filled her room, the soft glow of her desk lamp painting gentle shadows across the walls. The house was settling into the hush of night, the conversation downstairs long faded, replaced by the occasional creak of old floorboards and the distant hum of traffic outside.

But then — something different.

A subtle shift, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to Kaia it was unmistakable, her senses calming slightly. The soft, steady rhythm of footsteps moving through the front hallway, heavy and measured. The faintest tremor of weight shifting as boots were kicked off by the door. A deep sigh that vibrated low in the walls, the kind you only let out when the day has wrung you dry.

Her pen paused mid-sentence.

Dad’s home.

The realization settled into her chest before the door even opened. She listened as his footsteps made their slow way up the stairs, each one carrying the familiar strain of exhaustion. Her father, Zaire Mikage — Pro Hero “Bedrock.” Always steady, always strong, always... somewhere else.

The soft knock came a second later. “You still up, Kaia?”

“Yeah,” she called back, voice steady but light. “Come in.”

The door eased open, and there he was — still in the lower half of his hero uniform, the reinforced vest unzipped, dark under-eye circles just barely hidden by the shadows of the hallway. His towering frame leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in that casual way that could be read as either relaxed or worn out, depending on the day.

“Tough day?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Zaire offered her a small, tired smile. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” His gaze flicked to her desk, the spread of books and notebooks. “Still grinding away, huh?”

Kaia shrugged, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Math homework — trying to keep up.”

He stepped inside, ruffling her hair lightly as he passed. It was a rare gesture, the kind he used more often when she was smaller, but it still brought the same warmth with it.

“You’re doing good, kid,” he said softly, though there was always that weight tucked behind the words — the quiet, unspoken expectation that hung between them. "You’ve got the makings of a real pro. Just gotta stay sharp."

Kaia forced a small smile, her heart tightening just slightly. "Yeah. I know."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Zaire reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently before straightening back up.

“Get some sleep soon,” he said, heading for the door. “Your old man’ll be gone before sunrise again.”

And just like that, he was gone, his footsteps retreating down the hall. Kaia sat back in her chair, letting the silence settle again, the pressure lingering long after the floor stopped vibrating.

She loved her father, no doubt about that — but sometimes love came with expectations heavy enough to rival the earth itself.

Chapter Text

The bell signaling the end of the school day rang, a welcome sound after a long afternoon of classes. Kaia leaned back in her chair, turning slightly to face Mitsuri, who was already scribbling notes in her notebook, a half-smirk playing on her lips. It had become a familiar rhythm between them — small talk that was more about filling the space than actually discussing anything important.

“Maybe we should’ve gotten more sleep last night. I’m pretty sure I nodded off during that last test,” Mitsuri whispered, not looking up from her work.

Kaia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure I saw you scribbling some random symbols instead of answers, so yeah... I’d say you were out of it.”

Mitsuri only smiled wider, but before Kaia could tease her more, their teacher, Mr. Sato, cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention.

“Alright, class,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know it’s been a long day, but we’ve got one more thing to go over. The high school application submissions are due soon, and it’s time for everyone to finalize where they’re applying. So, let’s quickly go over who’s applying to what.”

Kaia’s stomach tightened slightly. This was it. The big moment. She’d been thinking about it for weeks now — the idea of U.A. High School. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. No, she did. It was just… complicated. Her family, her father, the expectations. But she had decided, quietly, that she would apply. No turning back now.

Mr. Sato shuffled through his papers, his tone returning to its usual calmness. “Now, I see that three of you in this class have applied to U.A. to become pro heroes… Kaia Mikage.”

Kaia felt the weight of the room shift immediately. Some students looked at her with surprise, others with admiration. She didn’t let it show, but a slight flush coloured her cheeks as she gave a small nod. She had expected that. Her father’s reputation alone carried a certain weight, even if she was careful to avoid the spotlight.

Then, Mr. Sato continued. “Katsuki Bakugo.”

The class shifted again, and Kaia heard a few whispered comments. As usual, Bakugo’s name was met with a mix of respect and fear. He had that same fierce reputation, even now, in middle school.

“And lastly, Izuku Midoriya.”

A beat of stunned silence followed before the room erupted into laughter.

Kaia’s eyes flicked to Izuku, sitting at his desk, the familiar blush creeping across his face. His hands were tucked in his lap, and he avoided looking anyone in the eye, but Kaia could see the tension in his shoulders. He wasn’t used to this — not anymore.

And then, there was the unmistakable sound of smoke rising from Bakugo’s palms, a low growl vibrating through the room. His eyes narrowed as he stood, fists clenched, glaring across the classroom.

“What the hell?” Bakugo spat, his voice rough. “That damn nerd is applying to U.A.? What kind of joke is that?!”

The laughter continued, and Kaia could feel the heat in the room — the sharpness of Bakugo’s rage mixing with the awkwardness of Midoriya’s embarrassment. The contrast was stark, the tension so thick Kaia could practically taste it.

For a second, everything felt still, a quiet tension hanging in the air. Then, she exhaled softly, glancing at Izuku, whose face was still bright red from the attention. It wasn’t fair. He might not have a flashy quirk like Bakugo or the legacy of her own father, but Izuku had something else. She saw it in him — that unwavering determination. The same drive that had never changed, even when the world told him he was quirkless.

Kaia shifted slightly, giving a quick glance at Bakugo — the two of them locked in that unspoken battle. There was a part of her that understood Bakugo’s anger, his pride, his refusal to let anyone challenge him. But there was another part of her that didn’t understand why this fight was still going on. Why did it have to be like this?

When the laughter subsided, Kaia’s  voice cut through the last lingering chuckles. “It’s not a joke, Bakugo. Izuku deserves his chance just as much as anyone else.”

The room went quiet at her words. Her eyes met Izuku’s for a brief moment, giving him a silent reassurance. Then, she turned to face Bakugo, her expression firm but calm. She wasn’t trying to start a fight. She just didn’t want Izuku’s dream to be crushed under the weight of someone else’s pride.

For a long moment, Bakugo’s gaze flicked between her and Izuku. Then, he turned away, muttering under his breath as he sat back down, smoke still curling from his hands, though the heat seemed less intense now.

Izuku gave a small, shy smile toward Kaia, his gratitude apparent in his eyes, though he didn’t say anything. Kaia just nodded at him, then looked out the window, her thoughts lingering on the quiet complexities of her friendships. She could feel the distance between them all growing, but in this moment, she was reminded of something important — they weren’t giving up on each other. Not yet.

*****

The air in the hallway still felt thick with the residue of the earlier tension, the students buzzing with low conversations as they filtered out of the classroom. Kaia lingered by her locker, her fingers absentmindedly spinning the combination dial, though her mind wasn’t on her school bag or the homework she still had to do. Her thoughts were occupied by what had just unfolded — the anger, the laughter, the uneasy feeling that clung to the room like smoke.

She didn’t rush. She never really had a reason to. No after-school activities to attend, no place to be except home. She preferred it that way — a quiet, solitary walk back with her thoughts. But today, something else kept her there. A quiet, almost invisible pull toward the classroom that was still echoing in her mind.

The hallway was slowly emptying out, the other students heading off in different directions. But Kaia stayed just outside the classroom door, glancing toward the gap between it and the frame. The vibrations of the air shifted beneath her feet, and through the subtle tremors, she felt it — two figures still lingering in the room, their presence like a soft ripple that traveled through the floorboards.

Izuku. Katsuki.

Kaia’s fingers tightened on the lock of her locker as she listened, her seismic sense picking up every small shift in the air, the subtle creak of the desk legs against the floor. Their voices were just faint whispers at first, but with each passing second, they became clearer.

“… You really think you belong in U.A.?” Bakugo’s voice was rough, like it had been scraped raw from the tension in the air. There was no mistaking the venom dripping from his words.

Izuku’s response was softer, hesitant. “I… I don’t think I belong more than anyone else. But… I want to try. I want to show that I can do it. Even without a quirk, I can—”

Bakugo cut him off, a sharp noise escaping him. Kaia could feel the pressure of his anger radiating through the walls, his voice rising, full of disdain. “You’re delusional, Deku! You think you can be a hero without a quirk? Without power? You’re nothing but a damn joke!”

The words hit harder than Kaia had expected. She flinched, feeling the hurt behind Izuku’s silence, his growing discomfort seeping through the air. The tension escalated, building, until there was a sharp thud — the unmistakable sound of something being tossed across the room.

A notebook.

The next words Bakugo spoke were filled with a cold, cruel edge. “If you wanna be a hero so bad, take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life.”

A sickening silence fell over the room after that, heavy and suffocating. Kaia’s heart clenched at the words, her chest tightening as she felt the full weight of them, the depth of Bakugo’s contempt. She could feel the tremors in the ground beneath her feet — his anger, like a violent aftershock, radiated through the floorboards, vibrating through her senses.

She wanted to move, to go in and say something. But she froze, her breath shallow, her thoughts spinning. This wasn’t just about a quirk anymore. This was something deeper. Something old. Something that Kaia knew well — a rift that had formed long before today.

Bakugo’s words weren’t just cruel; they were a declaration. A statement of how little he thought of Izuku, how far away he had pushed him. She could hear Izuku’s quiet breaths, the tension in his body as he likely struggled to hold back the sting of it all.

As Katsuki’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, the door creaked shut behind him, the silence that followed heavy and thick. His eyes immediately found Kaia, lingering near her locker, her stance unyielding, but there was a flicker in her eyes—a quiet understanding of everything that had just unfolded. The weight of his words still hung in the air, but it was Kaia’s gaze that stopped him in his tracks.

For a moment, Katsuki froze. His chest tightened, his shoulders tensing as her eyes bore into him, unblinking. It was the same look she had given him since they were kids—the one that said she wasn’t afraid to call him out, the one that carried years of friendship but also the unspoken truth: she knew him too well. He could feel his chest grow heavy as regret slowly began to seep in, like cold water filling the cracks in his resolve.

He opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to fix this—how to take back what he had just said to Izuku. He had gone too far. He always did when it came to Izuku, but for some reason, it hit harder with Kaia there, watching. She had always been the calm one, the steady anchor that balanced out their fiery personalities. Now, her disappointment was palpable, a weight he didn’t know how to shake off.

Kaia’s expression softened just for a split second, a brief flicker of empathy as she looked at him, but it didn’t last. She shook her head, the motion sharp, a quiet exhale escaping her lips. And then, as if she couldn’t bear to stand there a moment longer, she scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting through the tension.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps slow but firm. The thudding of her boots against the floor seemed to echo louder than usual, a stark contrast to the silence that now enveloped the hallway.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, his gaze fixed on her retreating back. A twinge of guilt gnawed at him, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, especially not around her. He hated it. Hated that she was disappointed in him. Hated that he couldn't fix things right away.

But there was nothing he could do now. Nothing but stand there and watch her walk away, her silhouette fading as she turned the corner.

*****

Kaia’s boots clicked softly on the tile floor as she stepped into her house, her senses already on high alert. The vibrations in the air were subtle, but they told her everything she needed to know. Her parents’ cars were parked in the driveway, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant they were both home, but it also meant that, once again, the tension in the house would be palpable.

As Kaia made her way through the hallway, her mind replayed the conversation she had overheard earlier. Katsuki’s words still hung in her mind like a shadow, but she couldn’t quite shake the weight of her own family’s turmoil. Her parents’ constant disagreements, the distance that had slowly grown between them over the years—it was all part of the same story, a story she couldn’t help but feel like she was getting pulled deeper into.

She stood at the edge of the living room doorway, her arms crossed, a neutral expression on her face. Her father, was leaning against the back of the couch, a hand resting on his forehead, and her mother, Amara, stood on the opposite side, arms crossed tightly. The conversation wasn’t anything new. In fact, it was practically a script they had repeated countless times.

“… Zaire, I can’t keep doing this,” Amara’s voice was sharp, frustrated, but there was a softness there, a thread of concern woven into the words. “You’re never here. You’re always out there, fighting, chasing after the next big villain or whatever it is that keeps you so busy. What about us? What about Kaia?”

Zaire sighed heavily, his back stiffening slightly at her words. “Amara, you know how important my work is. You know why I do this. I’m trying to protect everyone, including you and Kaia. But—”

“But you’re never here, Zaire,” Amara interrupted, her voice rising. “You think that’s enough? You think sending money and gifts and being the hero that everyone praises is enough? I need you here. We need you here. Kaia’s growing up, and she needs her father, not just some shadow that shows up occasionally.”

Kaia winced, her heart sinking a little at the words. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them, but it never got any easier. She knew her father loved her, and she knew he was doing his best to balance everything, but there were days when she couldn’t help but feel like she was always caught in the middle of their lives—pulled in two different directions. Her father’s hero work had always been a source of pride, but lately, it was becoming a burden.

Amara’s voice softened, a tinge of sadness creeping in as she spoke again, quieter this time. “We can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s falling apart, Zaire.”

Kaia stood still in the doorway, her heart aching for both of them. She could see the love they still shared, the underlying care that was woven through their words, but it was buried beneath the weight of Zaire’s responsibilities and the unspoken resentment that had been festering for years.

As if sensing her presence, Zaire glanced up, his eyes softening as he caught sight of his daughter standing in the doorway. Amara turned to look too, her expression shifting from frustration to something more resigned, but still full of concern. Kaia could feel the tension hanging thick in the room, and for a moment, all she wanted was to escape it.

“Kaia,” Zaire said, his voice softer now, trying to mask the exhaustion that clung to him. “You’re home early.”

Kaia nodded, her face neutral, though the storm inside her was anything but calm. “Yeah, I didn’t have anything to stay for,” she replied coolly, not quite meeting either of their gazes. “I’ll be in my room.”

She turned on her heel and started walking toward the stairs, her footsteps quiet but deliberate. She knew her parents were watching her, knew they were waiting for her to say something, to react, but she couldn’t find the words. She wasn’t angry at them, not really. She just felt… tired. Tired of trying to hold everything together.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she paused for a moment, listening to the muffled voices from below. The arguments always ended like this—unfinished, lingering, with no real resolution. Kaia couldn’t fix it. No matter how hard she tried, she knew she couldn’t fix what was broken between them.

She let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders sagging as she pushed open the door to her room, the familiar scent of incense and paper filling her senses. The world outside might have been too much to deal with, but at least in here, she could find some semblance of peace.

For now, that would have to be enough.

*****

The night had settled into a quiet stillness, the sounds of distant traffic outside and the occasional creak of the house the only things breaking the silence. Kaia sat cross-legged on her bed, the dim light from her desk lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. Her mind was still racing, torn between the conversation she’d overheard at school and the tension she’d felt in the living room earlier.

After a few minutes, the soft knock at her door broke the quiet. It wasn’t loud enough to startle her, but it was a familiar sound, one that told her mother was standing just outside. Kaia had expected it.

“Kaia?” Amara’s voice called gently from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

Kaia didn’t answer right away, but the faint vibrations of her mother’s presence made her feel grounded. Her mother’s steady energy had always been a source of comfort. She nodded to herself, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, you can come in.”

The door creaked open, and Amara stepped inside, her figure framed by the soft light from the hallway. She had a warmth about her, her presence filling the space like a familiar embrace. She closed the door behind her and walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down beside Kaia. There was a quiet pause before Amara spoke again, her voice tinged with that same underlying concern.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck in the middle of everything,” Amara said softly, her fingers tracing the edge of Kaia’s comforter. “Your father and I… we’ve been through a lot, and I know it’s hard. It’s hard for all of us.”

Kaia sighed, her eyes glancing at the ceiling as she exhaled the frustration that had built up in her chest throughout the day. She didn’t want to let it out, didn’t want to burden her mother with more worry, but it was bubbling inside of her, pushing its way to the surface. She could feel her mother’s unspoken emotions too. Her worry. Her love. Her regret.

“I know, Mom,” Kaia said, her voice quieter now. “But it’s not just about you two. It’s… it’s everything.” She shifted, resting her chin on her knees, her eyes looking down at the floor. “I see how hard you both try, and I see how much you love each other. But… we’re all just getting caught up in these cycles. It’s not just you and Dad. It’s me, too.”

Amara’s expression softened at her daughter’s words. She reached out, brushing a few strands of Kaia’s hair behind her ear, her touch gentle and loving. “You’re not caught in anything, sweetie. You’re allowed to feel frustrated. You’re allowed to want more—want things to be better, just like we do.”

Kaia looked up at her mom, her eyes carrying that quiet intensity that had always reminded Amara so much of herself when she was younger. “But I just— I don’t know what to do. It feels like everything’s slipping. It’s like we’re all trying, but no one’s really getting anywhere.”

Amara smiled softly, though the sadness in her eyes remained. “I know it feels that way. And it’s okay to be upset, to not have all the answers. But the most important thing is that we know we love each other, and that we’re trying. Relationships, even the best ones, go through rough patches. But we’re a family, Kaia. And family doesn’t give up on each other.”

Kaia’s eyes filled with emotion as she looked at her mom, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t explain. “I know you and Dad love each other. I just… I don’t want to see you two drift apart. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Amara’s heart ached at the raw honesty in her daughter’s voice. She pulled Kaia into a gentle hug, her arms wrapping around her tightly. “You won’t lose us, Kaia. Not now, not ever. We might be in a rough patch, but we’ll work through it. I know it’s not easy, but I want you to know something.” She pulled back just enough to look her daughter in the eyes, her gaze firm yet tender. “You’re not alone in this. We’re a team. And if you ever need to talk about anything—anything at all—don’t shut us out. We’ll get through this, together.”

Kaia swallowed, her throat tight, but a sense of relief washed over her at her mother’s words. She leaned into the embrace again, feeling the steady beat of her mother’s heart against her own. “Thanks, Mom,” Kaia murmured quietly, her voice small but sincere. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kaia,” Amara replied, her voice full of warmth. “Always and forever.”

For a moment, the two of them just sat there in the quiet, holding onto each other, allowing the silence to speak the words that neither could quite find. Amara rubbed Kaia’s back gently, and the hum of her presence was enough to soothe the edge of Kaia’s troubled thoughts.

Kaia knew that things weren’t perfect. They would never be perfect. But she also knew that her family would always find a way to come back to each other, no matter how rough the patch. And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation were the only sounds filling the Mikage dining room that evening. For once, the atmosphere wasn’t weighed down by tense words or quiet glares passed between her parents. It was one of those rare calm nights, the kind that Kaia wished would last longer than they ever did.

Her mother had cooked one of her favorite dishes — ginger pork with rice and sautéed vegetables — and her father, though still dressed in the sharp lines of his hero agency uniform, looked less worn down by the day’s work. For a little while, it felt normal.

Until her father cleared his throat softly, drawing Kaia’s attention. She looked up from her plate to see him reaching into his briefcase, pulling out a slim, official-looking envelope and sliding it across the table toward her. The crisp, embossed seal on the front made her pause — the unmistakable, bold letters: U.A. High School.

Her stomach flipped, eyes flicking from the envelope to her father’s face, searching for any sign of his usual stern expectations. But instead, his expression was surprisingly neutral, almost proud, though still tinged with the restraint he always carried.

Kaia wiped her hands on her napkin before carefully picking it up, her fingers brushing over the seal before sliding her thumb under the flap. She pulled out the contents — an official letter, folded neatly, and a single page that listed the details for the U.A. Recommendation Entrance Exam.

Six months from now.

Her heart thudded a little at the sight of it, the reality of her future sitting in black ink on pristine paper.

“You’ll need at least three solid references to even be considered,” her father spoke, cutting into her moment of silent awe. “I already sent mine in. A few others from the agency did, too.”

Amara glanced at the envelope, her expression soft but proud. “Zaire pulled a few strings to make sure your name was in the right hands,” she added, her voice careful not to sound like she was diminishing her daughter’s hard work. “They wouldn’t have agreed if they didn’t believe in you, Kaia.”

Kaia lowered the papers slowly, setting them neatly back on the table. The weight of it all settled in her chest. She knew U.A. wasn’t a simple choice — it was the choice. A school where expectations would skyrocket and the pressure would only get worse. But part of her, the part that wanted to live up to the Mikage name, to her father’s reputation, and to her own strength, knew this was the path she wanted.

Her father took a slow sip from his water glass before setting it down, locking eyes with her — sharp but not unkind.

“This is your shot, Kaia,” he said, voice low but certain. “You’ve got six months to make sure you’re ready. I know you can handle it.”

Kaia swallowed, nodding once. “I won’t let you down.”

And she meant it — for him, for herself, for all the years spent feeling like the quiet shadow of his legacy.

Her mother reached over, brushing her hand against Kaia’s gently. “We’re proud of you, no matter what,” Amara added, her gaze making it clear she meant every word. “But make sure this is what you want, okay? Not just what everyone else expects.”

Kaia’s lips tugged into a small, thoughtful smile. Her mind wandered for a moment, thinking about her friends — about Midoriya and Bakugo. All three of them chasing the same impossible dream, each in their own way.

“I want it,” she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. “I’m gonna earn it.”

Her father nodded, the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and for the rest of the dinner, the air held just a little more peace than usual.

*****

The next six months moved like clockwork, each day carved into strict routine and discipline. If she wasn’t at school, she was training. If she wasn’t training, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was either sleeping or eating — or, on rare nights, allowing herself to be an actual teenager for five minutes before the grind called her back.

Her father had mapped out the core of her regimen the night she opened that envelope, and when duty pulled him away — as it often did — his sidekicks, Hoshino and Yu, picked up the baton without missing a beat.

Hoshino was sharp and precise, a woman who could pick apart Kaia’s technique from across the room with a single glance. She rarely raised her voice, but when she spoke, Kaia listened. Yu, on the other hand, was all energy and muscle. He handled strength drills and endurance circuits like a drill sergeant, all bark but surprisingly patient when it counted.

Kaia found herself pushed harder than ever before. Morning runs. Sparring sessions. Lifting. Reaction drills. Seismic control exercises. Her earth manipulation had gone from shaky and wide to sharp and measured. What started as brute-force lifts of boulders and slabs of concrete turned into delicate shifts of soil and stone, as natural as flexing a muscle.

And the muscles — well, they were happening too.

It wasn’t drastic, nothing showy or out of place, but her arms, her legs, even her posture had changed. Strength sat on her frame like a quiet confidence, noticeable but subtle, and Mitsuri had been the first to point it out when they were hanging out after school.

“You’ve got, like, hero arms now,” Mitsuri teased, poking her shoulder. “Kinda jealous.”

Kaia had just rolled her eyes, but the quiet smile that crept onto her face stuck around for the rest of the afternoon.

The Hung Gar lessons layered into her growth in a way she hadn’t expected. The grounded, iron-rooted stances and precise, flowing strikes mirrored the feel of earth manipulation in her veins. Her instructor noticed it too — the way her quirk and martial art started to sync, her body moving as one with the rocks and stone she shaped around her.

But there were quirks — no pun intended — to her growth.

One afternoon, after overextending her quirk during a particularly grueling sparring session with Yu, she found herself stiff as a board, her joints and muscles locking up like cooling stone.

Yu had doubled over in laughter, even as Kaia stood there, half-scowling, half-amused, moving like a wind-up toy in slow motion.

“It’s like the rocks are fighting back,” Yu joked, wiping his eyes.

Kaia, with effort, managed to crack her neck and stretch out her arms. “Note to self,” she muttered, “don’t overdo it unless you want to walk home like a statue.”

Despite the soreness and the stiffness, the ache in her muscles had become a comfort. Proof she was getting stronger. Proof she was earning her place.

When the sun set each evening and she dropped into her desk chair, she traded her training notes for textbooks, grinding away at the written portion of the exam — hero law, strategy, ethics, and emergency response protocols. Earth could be moved with her quirk, but the test would need more than that.

She could feel it in her bones: she was becoming the person she’d always wanted to be. Not just the daughter of a pro hero. Not just part of some old trio that had fallen apart. Kaia Mikage, future hero — steady, sharp, and stronger than ever.

*****

The polished floors of U.A.'s grand welcome hall gleamed under the afternoon light streaming through its massive windows. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation — a tension that settled into the nerves of every student gathered, all of them knowing full well how rare and cutthroat this opportunity was. Only thirty students, hand-picked from all across the country.

Kaia stood near the edge of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hands tucked into her pockets. Even with months of training behind her, the steady thrum of her heartbeat vibrated against her seismic sense, matching the nervous energy that crackled through the building like static.

She kept her focus grounded — literally — tuned into the subtle rhythm of feet tapping, voices murmuring, the occasional deep stomp of an instructor moving through the crowd. Until, for once, her focus slipped.

A shoulder bumped against hers, light but enough to snap her out of her haze.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” Kaia started, turning to face the person.

The girl standing before her blinked in surprise, before offering a polite, slightly flustered bow. She was a few inches taller than Kaia, with sleek, black hair tied high into a neat spiky ponytail that grazed the back of her shoulders. Sharp but kind features framed her face, and even in the formal U.A. pre-exam uniform, she held herself with refined posture.

“No, it was my fault,” the girl said smoothly, her voice warm but formal. “I should’ve watched where I was going.”

Kaia rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a soft chuckle, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Guess we’re both a little on edge.”

The girl nodded, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “Understandable. The recommendation exams are... intimidating.”

Kaia tilted her head slightly. “You from around Musutafu?”

“Actually, no — Tokyo. My name’s Momo Yaoyorozu.” She introduced herself with a gentle smile, the weight of her family name carrying more than enough recognition in most places, though there was no trace of arrogance behind it.

Kaia’s brow quirked slightly, recognizing the name but choosing not to make a big deal of it. “Kaia Mikage,” she replied simply, offering her hand.

The two shook, a natural calm settling between them. There was a shared quiet confidence — two girls used to the pressure of high expectations, both bearing names that carried weight in the hero world.

“So,” Kaia said after a moment, glancing toward the closed doors leading to the exam rooms, “any idea what they’re throwing at us today?”

Momo smiled, the same nervous edge lingering behind her composed expression. “I’ve heard rumours, but U.A.’s methods are rarely predictable.”

Kaia smirked, crossing her arms loosely. “Guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

And just like that, the conversation flowed — soft, easy, natural. In a room full of nerves and strangers, it felt strangely grounding to find someone who mirrored her blend of pressure and purpose.

Before the exam even began, Kaia had found something unexpected: a new friend.

The call came sharp and sudden over the intercom — a polite but firm request for the recommendation candidates to proceed to the testing hall. Conversations stilled, chairs scraped back, and the muted shuffle of shoes echoed off the high ceilings as the group moved as one toward their first hurdle.

Kaia walked beside Momo, their conversation tapering off, replaced by the silent understanding of what lay ahead. As they entered the exam hall, rows of pristine desks stretched out before them, each one spaced evenly, each one carrying a single sheet of paper turned face-down and a mechanical pencil.

Kaia’s fingers flexed slightly at her sides as she moved toward her assigned seat. No matter how much her body had toughened through training, no matter how steady her earthbending made her feel — this part always rattled her a little. The physical side of hero work came naturally. But tests? Tests were their own battlefield.

Sliding into her chair, Kaia set her bag down and settled her hands on her desk, feeling the subtle vibrations of thirty other students doing the same. Momo sat a few rows away, perfectly composed, the picture of calm, already poised with pencil in hand even before the proctor gave the signal.

A deep voice echoed through the room as the exam coordinator stood at the front, clipboard in hand.

“You’ll have 90 minutes. The written portion will evaluate tactical reasoning, hero ethics, incident triage, and rescue logistics. Cheating will result in immediate disqualification.” His sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering long enough to make the warning settle deep.

The clock began.

Kaia flipped over the paper and scanned the first few questions. Scenario-based, of course. Diagrams of hero incidents, incomplete plans, ethics puzzles about choosing between multiple lives and conflicting decisions. The kind of questions that weren’t about right or wrong — but about thinking like a hero.

Her pencil scratched lightly against the paper as she worked, careful, methodical. The months of studying with her father’s agency sidekicks and burning through thick stacks of hero law books paid off. Each answer came with steady logic, her mind flicking through real-world examples she’d absorbed like muscle memory.

She stole a glance at Momo partway through the test — the other girl looked just as focused as expected, already deep into the last page, her pencil gliding smoothly across the sheet like it was second nature.

Kaia smirked softly to herself and refocused.

She wouldn’t be left in the dust.

The clock ticked down until the final bell rang, sharp and conclusive. The sound of pencils dropping and papers being gathered filled the room as the proctors collected their work.

As Kaia stood to stretch, her muscles aching slightly from sitting so stiffly, Momo joined her by the doorway, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear.

“How’d it go?” Momo asked, voice light but curious.

Kaia rolled one shoulder, exhaling through her nose. “Could’ve been worse. I think the real test’s about to start though.”

Momo gave a small, knowing smile. “Physical portion?”

Kaia nodded. “Yeah. I’m more comfortable when I can move.”

The proctors led the students from the written hall toward another section of U.A.’s sprawling campus. Kaia could feel it in her bones — the ground pulsing faintly beneath her feet as the training grounds buzzed with life.

This was the part she’d trained for.

And this time, the earth would answer.

*****

As the recommendation candidates filed out onto the sunlit training field, Kaia blinked against the sharp brightness, adjusting to the open expanse. Her seismic sense flickered beneath her skin like a second heartbeat, picking up the subtle shifts of machines moving underground, the mechanical whirring of robot engines powering up for the test.

Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd of students stretching and prepping for the next phase — but one figure in particular stood out.

A boy stood a short distance away, hands tucked into his pockets, posture almost lazy but eyes sharp and unreadable. Shoto Todoroki.

Kaia recognized him instantly, even before her quirk confirmed it. His two-toned hair caught the sunlight just the same as it always did, a clean split of white and deep red. The two had crossed paths more times than she could count at formal hero events — usually standing off to the side while their fathers talked shop and exchanged stiff professional courtesies.

Their conversations had always been brief, polite, surface-level. A shared glance here, a nod there. Enough to recognize each other, but not enough to call it a friendship.

Shoto’s heterochromatic gaze flicked toward her, cool and indifferent at first. But when their eyes met, his expression shifted, the barest hint of acknowledgment softening his sharp features. Kaia dipped her head slightly in return before turning away, flexing her fingers at her sides.

Focus, Mikage. You’ve got a job to do.

A voice crackled over the field’s loudspeaker, cutting clean through the chatter.

“This is the practical portion of your recommendation exam,” the proctor announced. “Your goal is simple: earn as many points as you can by taking down the designated training robots. Be aware that faculty will also be assessing your strategy, use of quirk, and cooperation potential.”

Kaia felt her pulse steady, her breathing deep. Months of training, endless repetitions, sore muscles and nights of studying — all of it funneled into this moment.

The countdown began.

3… 2… 1…

A siren blared, the heavy gates slid open, and the test began.

Robots of varying sizes surged out onto the field, gears grinding, servos hissing. Students scattered in every direction, quirks activating left and right — explosions, ice, electricity, and pure brute strength lighting up the field.

Kaia planted her feet shoulder-width apart, palms open and facing the ground. The familiar pull of the earth thrummed through her bones as chunks of concrete and soil lifted and reshaped themselves under her command. She launched the first slab like a cannonball, striking one of the larger bots square in the chest, sending it crashing backward in a heap of twisted metal.

She moved fluidly, her Hung Gar foundation guiding each motion — low, stable stances, controlled and deliberate strikes. The earth answered her every move, the battlefield reshaping beneath her feet as she sent waves of debris and jagged stone to disable her mechanical targets.

But she didn’t overdo it.

She could feel the temptation — the desire to go all-out, to show off the full extent of her strength. But her father’s lessons echoed in her head.

Control, not recklessness. Precision, not ego.

The practical portion of the recommendation exam was already halfway through, the field alive with the chaotic hum of battle. Kaia had fallen into a rhythm — the kind born of muscle memory and instinct — her Hung Gar stances allowing her to flow between offense and defence with a practiced ease, her earth manipulation sharpening with each robot she dismantled.

But even with her strength and control, it wasn’t a solo show.

A cluster of mid-sized robots closed in on her from two sides — too fast to pin down all at once. Just as she began to lower herself into a defensive stance, a sharp, clear voice cut through the noise.

“Kaia — duck!”

Without hesitating, she dropped into a low stance, feeling the cool slice of air rush overhead as a long steel staff — created from thin air — whipped past, striking one robot square in the sensor. The bot sparked and collapsed mid-charge.

Kaia’s head snapped around to see Momo Yaoyorozu jogging up beside her, another staff materializing from the polymer disc on her arm.

“Thanks,” Kaia called out, rising from her stance. “Nice throw.”

Momo nodded, breath steady but sharp, as she generated another weapon. “There’s too many closing in on the north side. If you can create an opening, I’ll handle crowd control.”

“Got it,” Kaia responded.

Without wasting another word, Kaia pressed her palms to the ground, sending a calculated tremor rolling outward. The bots stumbled, losing balance for a fraction of a second — just enough time for Momo to vault forward, swinging her newly crafted staff with flawless precision, knocking two more down before they could recover.

They fell into an unspoken rhythm — Kaia creating barriers and openings, Momo adapting with her inventive arsenal. It was teamwork born out of necessity, but surprisingly fluid for two people who’d only met that morning.

Later, as Kaia was catching her breath behind a section of ruined wall, another shadow moved into her periphery — quiet and cold.

Todoroki.

He stepped forward, face impassive, eyes flicking to the towering machine lumbering toward them — a larger robot, heavily armoured and designed for high point yield.

Without a word, he extended a hand, frost creeping outward and freezing the bot’s legs to the ground, but the machine’s upper body still swiveled, targeting them both.

Kaia’s pulse spiked, but her training held firm. She stepped forward, grounded herself, and raised a jagged slab of earth from beneath the frozen machine, cracking it through the chest plate. The ice weakened the structure; the rock finished the job.

The robot collapsed in pieces, its systems sparking as it powered down.

Shoto finally glanced at her, the barest tilt of his head — not quite approval, but certainly acknowledgment.

Kaia gave a small nod in return, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, both returning to the flow of the exam, moving to new targets.

Her limbs ached from the constant push and pull of her quirk, but she adjusted her breathing, shifting to conserve energy. Every movement was an extension of her training, the strength she’d carved into herself these past six months finally unfolding on the battlefield.

She even caught glimpses of the teachers observing from the deck — Eraserhead, cement-faced and unreadable; Present Mic, shades reflecting the bright sky; and Principal Nezu, perched on a raised platform, scribbling notes with a calm, curious smile.

Kaia pressed her palms to the ground again, sending a ripple through the earth, toppling another robot with pinpoint accuracy. Her body moved in sync with her instincts, each motion rooted and strong.

When the final siren blared, signaling the end of the trial, Kaia straightened, sweat rolling down the side of her face, chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

The field was littered with the broken remains of machines, and the students began regrouping, exchanging glances — some wide-eyed and breathless, others quietly assessing who’d stood out.

Kaia flexed her fingers again, her muscles slightly stiff from overuse but her expression calm, even faintly satisfied. She glanced sideways at Todoroki, who met her gaze briefly before looking away, expression as stoic as ever.

The recommendation exam wasn’t over — but Kaia Mikage had made her mark.

*****

The observation deck hummed quietly, a stark contrast to the battlefield below, which now sat silent on the monitors — replays rolling back through key moments from the recommendation exam.

Mic lounged back against the railing, arms folded, sunglasses reflecting the glow of the giant display screens. Beside him, Aizawa stood with his usual half-lidded, uninterested stare, hands buried in his capture weapon, but his eyes — sharp and calculating — had been lingering a little longer on one candidate in particular.

Kaia Mikage.

Her footage replayed: seamless earth manipulation, steady stances, intelligent cooperation with both Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. The girl held herself with a maturity that was hard to miss, especially for her age.

Present Mic tilted his head slightly, catching the repeated glances.
“Yo, Eraser — didn’t know you were in the business of scouting kids early.”

Aizawa didn’t move, his tone dry but not dismissive.
“She’s...interesting.”

Present Mic raised a brow, amused.
“High praise, coming from you. Figured you’d already picked out your favourites.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly as another clip rolled — Kaia using her quirk sparingly, conserving energy when others burned out too fast. His mouth quirked barely at the corner, almost unnoticeable.

“She knows her limits. Doesn’t overdo it like most kids with power,” he mused. “And she adapts. Not many her age understand how to read a fight, let alone work with others mid-combat.”

Present Mic let out a low whistle, nudging his elbow against his friend.
“Sounds like you’ve got your eye on her for Class 1-A.”

Aizawa didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering as the footage cut to the moment Kaia and Todoroki took down the armoured robot. Finally, he spoke, nonchalant as ever:

“If she makes the cut, she’ll be more than just muscle. The real test will be what’s in her head.”

Present Mic chuckled, leaning back once more.
“Well, looks like you’ve got a new problem child in the making.”

Aizawa gave the faintest shrug, unconcerned, but his sharp gaze flicked back to the screen one last time as the names and scores began to populate the leaderboard.

“Maybe.”

*****

The sun hung low in the sky by the time the recommendation exam wrapped, casting long shadows across U.A.’s campus. Students trickled from the testing field, some chattering excitedly, others slumped with exhaustion. Kaia lingered near the gate, adjusting her bag over her shoulder when a familiar voice called out.

“Kaia!” Momo Yaoyorozu jogged lightly to catch up, her usual poised expression softened by the relief of the day’s end. “You did really well out there. I was impressed.”

Kaia blinked, surprised but flattered. “You too. You practically turned those robots inside out.”

Momo smiled modestly, pulling her phone from her pocket. “We should stay in touch. If we both get in, I’d like to work with you again.”

Kaia’s lips curved into an easy smile as the two exchanged numbers, her chest light with a spark of pride. Just as Momo waved her goodbye, another voice spoke up — calm, direct.

“Hey.”

Kaia turned to see Todoroki standing a few paces away, his hands tucked in his pockets, expression as unreadable as ever.

“You did good today,” he said plainly, but the sincerity behind the words was clear. “Hope to see you around.”

With that, he gave her a simple nod and walked off, leaving Kaia standing there blinking, a little stunned at the rare compliment.

By the time she made it home, the adrenaline had worn off and her muscles were heavy with the kind of exhaustion only a full day of fighting and focus could bring. She kicked off her shoes in the hallway, her parents’ voices floating from the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo.” Her father, Zaire, leaned against the counter, still half in uniform but smiling softly. “How’d it go?”

Kaia flopped into the nearest chair, stretching her arms overhead. “It was tough...but I think I held my own.” She looked between her parents, their faces attentive despite the long day. “I just hope it was enough.”

Her mother, Amara, reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “It will be. No matter what happens — we’re proud of you.”

They shared a quiet dinner, her father for once present at the table for the whole meal, conversation easy but light. Afterward, Kaia showered, the warm water loosening the tension from her muscles, and by the time she crawled into bed, she barely managed to pull the covers over herself before sleep claimed her.

Her room was left in its usual lived-in chaos, the door wide open and her bedside lamp still flicked on. As Amara passed by later that night, she paused at the threshold, smiling softly at the sight of her daughter sprawled out across the blankets, completely out cold.

She stepped inside, gently switching off the lamp, and pulled the door halfway closed, the click soft and fond in the quiet house.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

*****

The days that followed the recommendation exam dragged by slower than Kaia expected. While other students buzzed about their entrance tests, Kaia kept mostly to herself, the quiet question lingering in the back of her mind: Did Izuku and Katsuki make it? She wouldn’t dare ask, but the thought circled each day on her walk home, especially when passing the playground where they’d all once hung out as kids.

That night, dinner was simple — nothing fancy, just the usual rotation of rice, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables. Kaia volunteered to clean up afterward, grateful for the distraction as her mind wandered back to the exam and her future at U.A.

As she was drying the last plate, a soft shfft sound caught her ear. Turning toward the front door, she spotted an envelope lying on the floor, half-tucked under the threshold — the U.A. seal stamped boldly across the front.

Her heart skipped.

Hands drying on her sweater, she crouched to pick it up, her fingers running across the crisp paper before sliding it open right there in the hallway. Her eyes darted over the formal letter, reading each word carefully:

To Miss Kaia Mikage,

It is with great pleasure that we inform you of your successful admission to U.A. High School’s Hero Course. Your recommendation evaluation has demonstrated exceptional skill, adaptability, and a strong understanding of your Quirk’s application.

Your physical and written assessments both show remarkable potential for growth and the foundation of a professional hero. We are proud to welcome you into Class 1-A for the upcoming school year.

We look forward to witnessing your journey.
— U.A. High School Faculty & Principal Nezu

Kaia let out a long breath, letter still trembling in her hands as her lips curled into the smallest, quietest smile.

She padded down the hallway, letter still held tight, and knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. Her mother answered, still propped up in bed with a book, glasses perched on her nose. Her father, towel slung over his shoulder, had just stepped out from the bathroom, running his hand through damp curls.

They both noticed the envelope immediately.

Kaia stood in the doorway, staring at the floor, her voice carefully flat.
“Well... I got the letter.”

There was a pause, both parents locking eyes with her — waiting, bracing.

She looked up, biting back a grin.
“I got in.”

Her mother let out a breath that cracked into a soft laugh, rising from the bed and pulling her daughter into her arms just as Zaire crossed the room, ruffling Kaia’s hair before joining in the hug. For a rare, peaceful moment the tension in the house seemed to dissolve, replaced by the quiet pride and warmth only a family could offer.

“You did it, baby girl,” her mother whispered against her hair.

“You earned it,” her father added, voice lower but proud. “I’m proud of you, Kaia.”

For once, all the pressure, all the doubt, all the late nights training and studying — it felt worth it.

*****

The night was quiet as Kaia wrapped up her phone call with Mitsuri, a few lingering thoughts about U.A. swirling in her mind. She had made it — now it was time to see what came next. She hadn’t expected any surprises, but then her phone buzzed with a notification.

It was a message from Bakugo. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to feel, before opening it.

Bakugo:
Got in. Don’t get any ideas.

She couldn't help but let out a small laugh, shaking her head. The usual gruffness, but there was a hint of something beneath it. She quickly typed back, her fingers moving with ease despite the weight of their complicated history.

Kaia:
Congrats, Bakugo. Guess we’ll see who’s top of the class soon.

A few minutes passed before she sat down at her desk, trying to unwind for the night. But just as she was about to get comfortable, her phone buzzed again, and this time it was an unexpected call.

Izuku.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the screen. She hadn’t heard from him in so long, not since the tension had built between their trio. She hesitated before answering, instinctively holding her breath as she swiped the screen.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious, unsure what to expect.

There was a long pause before she heard the faintest sniffle, followed by a shaky breath.

"Kaia..." Izuku's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, fragile even. “I... I got in.”

Kaia's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she sat up straighter. She knew that tone. He’d been crying. The overwhelming joy, the relief, the pure exhaustion. The weight of all his hard work finally paying off. Her heart swelled with pride, and without thinking, she smiled softly into the phone.

“That’s amazing, Izuku,” she said, her voice full of sincerity. “I knew you would.”

There was a pause, the kind where everything felt a little too heavy, a little too real, but then she heard him chuckle lightly through his tears.

“I didn’t think I’d actually get in... I was so sure... I didn’t think I was cut out for it...” Izuku’s words were full of vulnerability. “But you... You always believed in me.”

Kaia blinked, her chest tightening. Despite all the things that had been left unsaid between them, despite the hurt, there was still this — this bond. She could feel it, the way they still understood each other, even after everything.

"I always believed in you, Izuku," she whispered softly, her fingers curling around the phone. "I still do."

There was a silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it was a shared moment of realization. After everything, they had both made it. And despite the distance, Kaia knew in that moment that things between them weren’t lost — they just needed time.

“I’m proud of you, Izuku,” she added quietly. “You deserve this.”

He exhaled slowly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. "Thanks, Kaia. I... I really needed to hear that."

The connection between them, despite the awkwardness and tension over the years, felt strong, unbreakable in that moment.

“You’ll do great at U.A.,” she told him with a confidence she hadn’t even known she had. “We both will.”

There was another beat of silence, then Izuku’s voice, a little steadier now, came through. "I’ll see you at U.A., then."

"Yeah. See you there."

After the call ended, Kaia let out a breath, her heart still racing a little. She leaned back in her chair, staring at her phone, the lingering warmth of the conversation with Izuku settling over her. Despite everything that had happened between them, he still mattered to her, just like Katsuki.

She let out a deep breath and smiled softly. It was a start.

Chapter Text

The week before U.A.’s first day crept up faster than Kaia expected. One moment, she was anxiously waiting for her acceptance letter, and the next — she was standing in front of a full-length mirror at the tailor’s shop, adjusting the crisp collar of her brand-new U.A. uniform.

It still felt surreal. The soft gray blazer, the sharp green accents — it was all proof that everything she’d worked for, all the long months of training, all the nights spent pouring over textbooks and sparring until her limbs ached — it wasn’t for nothing. She’d made it.

Across the fitting room, her best friend Mitsuri spun in a slow circle, smoothing out the skirt of her Musashi High uniform, a playful smile lighting up her face.

"You look good in that," Mitsuri beamed, giving Kaia a playful thumbs up. "Hero Course material, through and through."

Kaia let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing down the crisp sleeve. "You’re not so bad yourself, Musashi’s MVP."

Mitsuri grinned wider, leaning against the fitting room doorframe. "I still can’t believe it. High school, huh? Feels like just yesterday we were stressing over the entrance exams."

Kaia hummed in agreement, her gaze drifting out the shop’s window, watching the sun filter through the early spring sky. The weight of U.A. still pressed heavy in her chest — not the fear of failure anymore, but the sheer responsibility of it all. Of living up to the name. Of making it worth something.

After they paid for their uniforms, the girls spent the rest of the day wandering around the city — stopping for iced drinks, browsing stationery shops for notebooks, and lingering at the park until the sun dipped low. The familiar comfort of Mitsuri’s laughter helped quiet Kaia’s nerves, even if only for a while.

As the sky shifted to soft orange, the two sat side by side on a park bench, their bags resting at their feet.

"You’re gonna kill it, you know," Mitsuri said after a moment of companionable silence. "U.A. was lucky to get you."

Kaia’s lips pulled into a small, shy smile. "You too. Musashi won’t know what hit them once you start smashing serves."

Mitsuri bumped her shoulder against hers lightly. "Promise me something, okay? Let’s both give it our all."

Kaia nodded, her voice steady and sure. "Yeah. Promise."

*****

The soft click of the front door echoed through the quiet house as Kaia stepped inside, slipping off her shoes. She didn’t need to look up to know she wasn’t alone — the familiar vibration of two steady heartbeats and the gentle scrape of mugs against the kitchen counter told her everything she needed to know.

Rounding the corner, she spotted her mother, standing by the stove, stirring a pot with one hand and laughing softly at something. Sitting at the small kitchen table, with a mug of tea cradled in her hands, was none other than Inko Midoriya.

The two women looked up as Kaia entered, both offering her the kind of smiles that could melt away even the longest of days.

“There she is,” Amara greeted, her voice light. “Welcome home, baby.”

Inko’s face lit up with warmth as well, her voice full of genuine kindness. “Kaia! Congratulations again on getting into U.A., sweetheart. That’s such a huge accomplishment.”

Kaia, setting her bag down by the door, rubbed the back of her neck — the compliment still making her cheeks flush, no matter how many times she heard it.

“Thanks, Auntie Inko,” she said, moving over to grab a glass of water. “And congrats to Izuku too. I was so happy when he called me.” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she leaned against the counter. “Though... he definitely gave me a heart attack first. You should’ve heard him — crying so much I couldn’t even understand him at first.”

Inko let out a soft, knowing laugh, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Ah, that sounds like my boy. He was so overwhelmed, he cried for a good half-hour after he got the letter.”

Amara chuckled from the stove, glancing over her shoulder. “Sounds like you three are finally getting the fresh start you deserve.”

Kaia sipped her water, her gaze softening at the thought. Yeah. After everything — the strained friendships, the years of drifting apart, the aching gaps left behind — this was the start of something new.

She lingered in the kitchen, letting the easy flow of conversation between her mom and Inko wash over her. There was something comforting about it — the soft clink of teacups, the casual laughter, and the way the late afternoon sun painted golden streaks across the floor.

Amara wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, glancing toward the hallway. “Oh, before I forget — a package for Mitsuki got dropped off here by mistake. The delivery guy must’ve been rushing again.”

She nodded toward the small box resting on the counter, neatly addressed to the Bakugos but with their house number crossed out. Kaia glanced at it, then back at her mom.

“I can take it,” she offered, pushing off the counter. “It’s nice out anyway. I don’t mind the extra walk.”

Amara smiled, sliding the package toward her. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m sure Mitsuki will appreciate it.”

Inko, still sipping her tea, looked up with her usual kind eyes. “Tell Mitsuki I said hello, will you?”

Kaia nodded, tucking the package securely under her arm. “Will do.”

She headed toward the door, pausing only to grab her sneakers and step into the late afternoon sun. The breeze was light, the neighbourhood quiet except for the distant sounds of kids playing and the occasional bark of a dog.

Her steps were slow but steady as she made her way down the familiar streets, the box tucked safely in her arms. There was something peaceful about the simplicity of it — a small errand, a bit of sunshine, and a moment alone to let her thoughts settle before her world shifted again with the start of U.A.

The walk to the Bakugo house didn’t take long — just a few streets over, but long enough for Kaia to let her mind wander. The weight of U.A. starting soon sat on her shoulders, a strange mix of excitement and nerves twisting in her chest. By the time she reached the familiar two-story house, the sharp scent of dinner being prepped floated through the open windows.

Kaia knocked lightly on the door, shifting the small package in her hands.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal Mitsuki Bakugo, her sharp-eyed, no-nonsense expression softening when she saw who was standing there.

“Well, if it isn’t Kaia,” Mitsuki huffed, leaning against the doorframe. “What brings you around, kiddo?”

Kaia held up the package with a small smile. “Delivery mix-up. This was meant for you — Mom asked me to drop it off.”

Mitsuki took the box, glancing at the label with a short scoff. “Figures. Delivery folks around here wouldn’t know the difference between a three and a five if it smacked ‘em.” She looked back at Kaia, studying her for a beat, the corner of her mouth tugging into something close to pride. “Heard you got into U.A. Good job, kid. Knew you would.”

Kaia rubbed the back of her neck, a little bashful. “Thanks. I heard about Katsuki, too.”

Mitsuki snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, that little gremlin didn’t stop bragging about it for a full day.” She rolled her eyes but her expression softened. “Don’t let him get under your skin too much. He’s got more bark than bite when it comes to you — always has.”

Kaia gave a quiet chuckle at that, knowing Mitsuki wasn’t wrong. “I know.”

As the last of the small talk between Kaia and Mitsuki wrapped up, Kaia’s eyes couldn’t help but flick toward the staircase. It wasn’t subtle, either — a little too long of a glance, a little too often. Mitsuki noticed, of course, sharp as ever. She let out a dry little huff, waving her hand casually.

“Go on up,” Mitsuki said, her voice firm but knowing. “I know you’ve got more to say to that hard-headed son of mine than you do to me.”

Kaia blinked, slightly caught off guard, but nodded with a quiet, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mitsuki.”

She stepped into the house, the familiar smell of the Bakugo household hitting her all at once — miso soup simmering on the stove, a faint trace of fabric softener, and the crisp scent of the evening air through the open windows.

As she rounded the corner toward the staircase, she passed the kitchen, where Masaru stood drying his hands after rinsing some vegetables. His gentle smile met her immediately.

“Hey, Kaia,” he greeted warmly. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Uncle Masaru,” she replied, voice soft but fond, always finding his calm presence comforting. “Dinner smells good.”

He chuckled lightly. “You always have good timing for that.”

She excused herself politely, moving past him and up the stairs — her footsteps light but steady — while the couple remained in the kitchen.

Mitsuki folded her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched her son’s oldest friend disappear up the steps. Masaru joined her, towel slung over his shoulder, sensing the shift in her mood.

“She’s grown a lot,” Masaru said thoughtfully, his voice low, easy. “Not just taller, either. Looks like U.A.’s going to fit her.”

Mitsuki let out a quiet snort, her gaze lingering toward the staircase.

“Yeah. She’s got that look in her eye — same as always. Determined. She’s always been strong, even when she didn’t think so.” A pause, her mouth flattening into a more thoughtful line. “And Katsuki… he still watches out for her, even if he pretends not to.”

Masaru gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Some things don’t change.”

Mitsuki hummed in agreement, glancing toward the stairwell one more time. “And some things do,” she muttered under her breath, knowing full well that both her son and Kaia were standing right at the edge of a new beginning.

*****

Kaia leaned against the doorframe of Bakugo’s room, the quiet in the space between them pressing down like an unspoken weight. Katsuki was sitting at his desk, eyes flickering up toward her briefly before returning to the phone screen in front of him, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of the desk. Kaia didn’t rush to speak. She was used to this — his walls, his silence. But she also knew that sometimes, you just had to wait him out.

After a long beat, she spoke, her voice a little softer than usual. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Bakugo’s reply was short, but not dismissive. It was the kind of greeting you give someone when you’re not exactly sure what to say, but you don’t mind them being around.

Kaia stepped inside the room, her sneakers making a soft squeak against the wooden floor. She could feel his gaze on her, but he didn’t look up from the desk. The room was quieter than it should have been for a Bakugo household, the usual chaos of loud music or the hum of TV shows replaced by the sound of an instrumental track playing faintly from his phone speaker. Kaia raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Listening to something new?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Shut up,” Bakugo muttered, but there was no venom behind it. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for teasing, but he was trying, in his own way.

She let the silence stretch out again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the tense, bitter silence from their earlier years; it was just the kind of quiet that came with being around someone you trusted enough not to speak, and still felt comfortable enough with to just exist beside.

Kaia moved toward the window, standing near the desk as she looked out over the familiar neighbourhood below. She wanted to break the ice, to get past the awkwardness that had developed between them over time. But she didn’t know how. There was a lot unsaid between them, and while she wasn’t afraid of confrontation, there was a part of her that hesitated to bring it up.

Finally, she spoke, trying to keep her tone light but her words meaningful. “I, uh... I’m glad we’re both going to U.A. I know things haven’t exactly been the same.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened at the words, but he didn’t snap at her. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, well, life happens.” He was trying to keep it casual, but Kaia could hear the undercurrent of frustration in his voice. It was the same frustration that had simmered in him ever since they’d stopped being the close friends they once were. He didn’t know how to fix it, and that made him angry. But he wasn’t about to show that side to her. Not right now.

Kaia stayed quiet for a moment, then glanced back at him. “I’m sorry for how things went. I didn’t mean for things to get so... complicated.”

She saw his fist clench slightly, his body tense, and for a moment, she thought he might brush her off entirely. But then, to her surprise, he let out a sharp exhale, his usual fiery expression softening just a fraction.

“I’m not good at this shit, Kaia,” he muttered, his eyes flicking away from her. “I don’t know how to fix what happened. I don’t even know what the hell happened.”

Kaia felt her heart sink a little, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. Bakugo wasn’t one to admit he was struggling. It was always “I’ll handle it” or “Don’t bother me,” but this? This was new.

“You don’t have to fix it,” she said gently, moving closer to his desk. “We just... I guess we just need to talk. About everything.”

Bakugo looked at her then, really looked at her, and there was something softer in his eyes — a fleeting crack in his usually impenetrable mask. “I don’t do well with talking, Kaia,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “But I’m... I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly. Even if I don’t show it.”

Her chest tightened at the words, and she could feel the tension in the room shift, like the weight of all the unsaid things was lifting just a little. Kaia wasn’t one for grand gestures or over-the-top emotions, but this? This moment felt like the first step to something they both needed.

“I know, Katsuki,” she replied softly, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “And I’m still here. Even if it’s... weird. We’ll get through it.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, without a word, he reached up, ruffling her hair in that familiar way he always did. It wasn’t a rough gesture, but a deliberate one. A sign that, despite everything, he was still Bakugo — the same kid who used to drag her around on adventures and talk about being the strongest hero.

Kaia blinked at the gesture, surprised, and then gave a small laugh. “Well, if you think you’re too high and mighty for a real hug now, just say so,” she teased, her tone light and easy.

He shot her a quick smirk, but his eyes softened. “Tch, you wouldn’t be able to hug me without breaking something anyway.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Please, you’re not that fragile.”

But before she could continue, Bakugo’s smirk flickered back into something more sincere, and he nodded toward the door.

“Fine. Maybe next time,” he said gruffly, but there was warmth in his voice, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Kaia smiled, turning toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that. But for now, you should probably get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

As she walked out of his room, she couldn’t help but feel like something between them had shifted. It wasn’t perfect, not yet. But it was a start. And for once, it felt like things might actually be on the mend.

Chapter Text

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the kitchen window as Kaia sat at the counter, a warm cup of tea in her hands. The clink of her spoon against the ceramic bowl as she stirred her cereal filled the quiet morning air. Amara moved around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for her own breakfast, a sense of calm between them. The kitchen smelled faintly of freshly brewed coffee, and there was a softness to the way Amara hummed under her breath, something that made the morning feel just a little bit more normal than usual.

Kaia glanced over at the counter, where a beautiful bouquet of tulips sat in a glass vase, their vibrant colours brightening the room. She couldn’t help but notice them. They were a gift from her dad, Zaire, for her mom. She’d seen him pick them up yesterday during his grocery run. It was one of those small, thoughtful things that, over time, felt significant.

"They’re beautiful," Kaia commented, her eyes softening as she admired the flowers.

Amara glanced over at the bouquet, a smile tugging at her lips, but there was something wistful in her gaze. "Yes, your father always knows how to pick the right flowers," she said, her voice tender, but Kaia could hear the undercurrent of something deeper in her words. "It’s the little things, you know?"

Kaia nodded, stirring her cereal absentmindedly. "I’ve noticed... things between you two have gotten better lately."

Amara let out a small sigh, pausing for a moment as she set the knife down after slicing some fruit. Her hands lingered there for a second, almost as though she were weighing her response.

"It's a process," Amara said finally, her voice quieter than usual. "We’ve been working through things, taking it slow. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than it was." She glanced over at Kaia, offering her a small, somewhat tired smile. "I guess that’s all we can hope for sometimes."

Kaia looked at her mom, considering her words. "As long as you’re happy," she said gently, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She was still getting used to the idea of their relationship changing after everything that had happened. The small arguments, the late nights when she could feel the tension thick in the air, the days when they barely spoke to each other. It was hard not to notice the shifts, the moments when they seemed to pull away from each other, even though both of them tried to hide it.

"I’m getting there," Amara replied, her voice warm, but with a hint of uncertainty. "But you’re right. It’s better. And that’s something to be grateful for."

The conversation lingered in the air for a moment as Kaia took another sip of her tea, feeling a quiet weight settle in her chest. She wanted to ask more, to delve deeper into her mom's feelings about everything, but the thought of pushing her to talk too much made her hesitate. It wasn’t easy to bring up topics like this, not when they still felt so fragile.

Instead, Kaia changed the subject, her tone lighter. "I’m nervous about today," she admitted, shifting in her seat. "First day at U.A. What if I mess up? Or—"

"Don’t even think about it," Amara interjected, walking over to her and setting down a plate of fruit beside Kaia. "You’ve worked so hard to get here. This is your moment. I’m proud of you, Kaia."

Her mom’s words hit her harder than Kaia expected, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious. She looked down at her bowl for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “It’s just... a big step, you know? I’m not sure what to expect, and there’s always that worry of being... not good enough.”

Amara kneeled beside her daughter’s chair, gently lifting Kaia’s chin so their eyes met. "You are more than good enough, Kaia," she said firmly, her voice full of quiet strength. "You’ve always been. Trust yourself. Trust in everything you’ve worked for."

Kaia blinked back the sudden moisture that pricked at the corners of her eyes, nodding quickly. "I will," she promised, feeling a little more at ease now. "I’ll make you proud."

Amara smiled softly, brushing a hand over Kaia’s hair affectionately. "You already have."

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, the sentiment carrying more weight than either of them probably realized. It wasn’t just about U.A. or her first day at school. It was about Kaia’s journey, her growth, and the quiet strength she’d carried through everything, even when things hadn’t been easy.

With a final glance at the bouquet of tulips on the counter, Kaia stood up, ready to face the day ahead. She could feel the excitement and anxiety buzzing in her chest, but at least for now, she had this moment, this warmth, this connection with her mother.

"Alright, I guess I should get going. Don’t want to be late for my first day, right?" Kaia said, standing up and stretching.

Amara chuckled lightly. "You’ll be just fine."

Kaia smiled. "Got it. See you later, Mom." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then gave her mother one last hug before heading out the door.

As she stepped outside, the sun was already high in the sky, the early morning chill replaced by the warmth of the day. A fresh start, just like the first day of school. Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she walked toward the bus stop. There was no turning back now—U.A. awaited.

*****

Kaia’s footsteps echoed softly as she approached the towering gates of U.A. High School, her heart pounding in her chest. The sun was high, casting long shadows over the bustling courtyard. Students were streaming past her, chatting excitedly, some laughing nervously, while others hurried inside. The energy in the air was electric—new beginnings, fresh hopes, and that anxious flutter in the pit of her stomach.

As she walked toward the entrance of the building, she felt the tremors of every student around her. Her seismic sense was on high alert, absorbing the various movements, the nervous excitement, the hidden fears. She could sense it all—the pulse of the crowd, the shifting of people’s bodies, the subtle vibrations of their emotions that reverberated against the earth beneath her. She tried to focus, to ground herself in the moment, but it was hard to ignore the mix of emotions swirling in the air.

"Focus," she muttered to herself, her hand instinctively brushing against the hem of her uniform jacket, her fingers tightening around the fabric.

Kaia made her way toward Class 1-A, her footsteps quickening as she neared the oversized door. The door itself loomed large in front of her—so imposing, so representative of the unknown challenges ahead. She could already feel the hum of energy from within. Her heart skipped a beat, her seismic sense picking up on every small shift, the murmurs of students from behind the door, the anticipation, and the nervousness vibrating from their bodies.

Then, as she neared the door, she spotted a small bundle of green, almost shaking in the corner of her vision. Her breath hitched, and her gaze softened as she recognized the figure. It was Izuku.

The way his body trembled was unmistakable, the nervous energy practically radiating from him in waves. His usual messy green hair was tucked beneath his U.A. cap, his hands clenched tightly around his bag strap, his body swaying slightly as if he were trying to hold himself together. He hadn’t noticed her approach yet, lost in his own anxiety as he stared down at the ground, muttering to himself.

Kaia’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. Some things never changed. Even now, as they stood on the edge of this massive opportunity, Izuku was just as he always was—a bundle of nerves and determination. But she couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of him. Despite everything that had happened between them, she couldn’t deny the connection they still shared. The bond forged through years of friendship, no matter how strained their relationship had become over the years.

“Izuku,” Kaia called out softly, her voice carrying a gentle lilt.

The sound of her voice was enough to break his concentration. He whipped around, his wide green eyes locking onto her with a mix of surprise and relief. For a moment, he stood there frozen, blinking at her as if trying to process the sight of her standing there.

“Kaia!” he exclaimed, his voice a little shaky. He let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here... right now.”

Kaia smiled, the unease in her chest lightening as she watched him. “Guess we’re both in the same class,” she said, her tone teasing but kind. “You nervous too?”

Izuku let out a deep breath, his body relaxing just slightly. “Yeah, I mean... this is it, right? We’ve worked so hard for this, and now... it’s finally happening.” He paused, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “But... what if we mess up? What if we don’t live up to what everyone expects?”

Kaia tilted her head, giving him a soft but knowing look. “Izuku, you’re here for a reason. You’ve got the heart of a hero, always have. Don’t let nerves stop you from being the person I know you can be.”

He looked at her, his nervous smile slowly shifting into something more genuine. “Thanks, Kaia... I needed to hear that.”

As Kaia and Izuku stood just outside the classroom, still soaking in their quiet moment of reassurance, a sharp voice echoed from behind the door, cutting clean through the noise like a whistle.

“Get your feet down this instant! This is a place of learning, not a lounge for delinquents!”

The two friends blinked, their heads turning in perfect sync toward the source of the sound, an amused glint flickering in both their eyes.

“Let me guess…” Kaia murmured under her breath, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

Izuku let out a soft, breathy laugh, already well aware of who could’ve drawn that kind of scolding so early on the first day. “Yeah. Only one person would start the morning like that.”

Kaia stepped forward, fingers curling around the door handle, pushing it open with a light shove. The door creaked slightly as it revealed the scene playing out before them.

Right at the center of the room, sitting like he owned the place, was Katsuki Bakugo — feet kicked up on the desk, arms folded behind his head, wearing his usual cocky scowl. His sharp red eyes flicked lazily toward the front of the classroom, completely unfazed by the boy standing before him, furiously waving his arms like a windmill in protest.

The boy — Tenya Ida — was a perfect portrait of rulebook righteousness, his glasses catching the morning light as he chopped the air in front of Bakugo with stiff, exaggerated movements, like he was trying to swat the arrogance right out of him.

Kaia raised a brow, the corners of her mouth twitching. It was the kind of scene she could’ve predicted blindfolded. Some things really never changed.

Izuku, standing slightly behind her, scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Kachan’s already making friends, huh?”

Kaia glanced back at him, smirking lightly. “That’s one way to put it.”

As her gaze returned to Katsuki, his sharp eyes flicked toward the door — catching sight of the two familiar faces standing there. For the briefest moment, the tension in his body eased. His usual scowl softened, not fully, but enough that Kaia could catch it. A silent acknowledgment, as if to say: So you showed up, huh.

Kaia tilted her head slightly, arms loosely crossed, letting the unspoken greeting pass between them before stepping further into the room.

Ida, still mid-speech, finally seemed to realize there were new arrivals at the door. His arms paused mid-chop as he turned to greet them properly, immediately shifting into polite introduction mode — but Kaia barely heard him.

Kaia let her eyes scan the room as more students filtered in, her steps slow and steady as the morning nerves settled into something lighter — something almost like excitement.

Rows of desks stretched out neatly across the room, each one tagged with a crisp nameplate. She walked the aisle until her gaze landed on her own name: Kaia Mikage. The sight brought a tiny flutter of pride to her chest. But it wasn’t just her name that caught her attention.

To her right, the desk was labeled Momo Yaoyorozu, and to her left — Shoto Todoroki.

A warm smile bloomed on Kaia’s face, the comfort of seeing two familiar faces from the entrance exam easing the remaining weight on her shoulders. Momo looked up from organizing her supplies, her sharp eyes brightening the moment they met Kaia’s.

“Kaia! I was hoping you’d make it,” Momo said warmly, sitting up straighter as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I had a good feeling about you after the exam.”

Kaia slid into her seat, her expression soft with genuine gratitude. “Same to you. It’s nice not being the only new face surrounded by strangers.”

The two girls fell into easy conversation, catching up on how the rest of their time had passed since the exam. Momo spoke about her studies and how her family had been preparing her for the school year, while Kaia shared about spending time with her friend Mitsuri and her hopes for what U.A. would bring.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaia noticed Todoroki settling into his seat. Quiet as ever, his heterochromatic eyes flicked over to her just briefly. Their gazes met for a second, and he offered her a small nod — simple, but meaningful. Kaia returned the gesture just as calmly. She wasn’t surprised by his reserved nature; even back during the exam, he had struck her as someone who spoke with action, not words.

The room’s chatter grew louder as the last few students settled into their seats. Kaia took a deep breath, soaking in the realization that this was her new normal. This was Class 1-A. Her new beginning.

And though the day had only just begun, sitting between two faces she could already call familiar, Kaia felt a little more sure that she belonged here.

Her attention lingered just a second longer on Katsuki, who — despite the scolding and bravado — lowered his feet from the desk. It wasn’t much, but it was a quiet truce between old friends. The first day was just beginning, but Kaia could already tell this was going to be the start of something new, whether any of them were ready for it or not.

The classroom chatter hit a sudden lull when the door creaked open — all heads turned, expecting to see another student or perhaps a proper teacher walking in.

But no one stepped through.

Instead, something long and lumpy shuffled across the floor. The class watched, wide-eyed, as a yellow sleeping bag practically slithered its way to the front of the room. Slowly, the zipper tugged down, and out popped the tired, half-lidded eyes and disheveled hair of their new homeroom teacher — Shota Aizawa.

The silence stretched on until Aizawa finally spoke, voice dry and flat.

“…I’m your homeroom teacher. Name’s Aizawa.” He stood up sluggishly, freeing himself from the confines of the sleeping bag and brushing out his black scarf with a yawn. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

He held up a plain gym uniform bag in one hand. “Put these on and meet me outside. We’re doing a quirk apprehension test.”

A brief stir rippled through the class, and from the middle row, a soft but confused voice spoke up. Ochaco Uraraka raised her hand slightly.

“Um, sensei? What about the welcome ceremony?” she asked, blinking in polite confusion.

Aizawa’s gaze slid lazily toward her. “If you want to waste time on meaningless traditions, you can go home now,” he replied without missing a beat. “Heroes don’t have time for warm welcomes. Get dressed.”

With that, he was already sliding his arms into his capture weapon scarf, giving the class little room for argument. Kaia blinked, caught somewhere between surprised and impressed. She glanced sideways at Momo, who looked equally serious, and Todoroki, who showed no visible reaction at all.

As the class began rising from their seats, the tension shifted into an eager sort of buzz — the kind that only came with anticipation. Kaia stood, adjusting her collar with a quiet exhale.

First day, first test.
U.A. wasn’t wasting any time.

*****

The girls’ locker room was buzzing with light chatter as the seven girls of Class 1-A started changing into their gym uniforms. With twenty minutes to spare, it didn’t take long for the tension to ease and curiosity to spark.

Kaia pulled her shirt over her head, fastening her uniform top neatly as she listened to the conversations swirling around her. Uraraka was the first to break the ice, turning around with her usual bright, open smile.

“So, um — I guess we should all introduce ourselves, huh? Since we’re gonna be classmates and all!”

The idea was met with nods and small smiles. Mina Ashido, energetic and bubbly, spun around on her heels, hands on her hips.
“I’m Mina Ashido! Quirk’s Acid! Let’s all get along, ‘kay?” she grinned, the sharp contrast of her pink skin and gold eyes making her cheerful nature even more striking.

Next to her, Tsuyu Asui offered a polite wave, her tone even and direct.
“I’m Tsuyu Asui. Just call me Tsu. My quirk’s Frog.”

Momo Yaoyorozu, adjusting her hair tie with practiced grace, introduced herself next. “Momo Yaoyorozu, quirk: Creation. I look forward to working with all of you.”

Kaia felt the attention shift toward her, but the welcoming expressions on their faces softened her nerves. She offered a small, warm smile.
“Kaia Mikage. My quirk’s… well, it’s a little hard to explain, but I guess you could say it’s earth-based. Nice to meet all of you.”

The remaining two girls, Kyoka Jirou, who coolly tucked her headphone jacks behind her ears, and Toru Hagakure, the bubbly, ever-cheerful invisible girl, rounded off the introductions.

“Jirou. Quirk’s Earphone Jack,” Jirou said simply with a small wave.

“And I’m Hagakure — Toru! Quirk: Invisibility! You can’t see me but, hi-hi!” Toru giggled, raising her gloved hand.

The introductions were short and easy, followed by light conversation as the girls tightened sneakers and zipped up jackets. It was surprisingly natural, the seven of them falling into the beginning of a comfortable rhythm. Kaia felt herself relax a little more, sensing the honesty and friendliness from her new classmates.

It was a small reminder that, even in a school built for future heroes, they were all still just kids trying to find their place.

*****

Out on the track, the spring sun stretched long shadows across the training field as Class 1-A lined up. The crisp new gym uniforms still felt stiff on most of them, their excitement tempered by the serious tone of the man standing before them.

Aizawa stood lazily wrapped in his capture weapon, eyes half-lidded but sharp as a blade. In his hand, he casually spun a softball.

“Alright. First test — softball throw.”

He held the ball up so the entire class could see.

“In middle school, you weren’t allowed to use your quirks to keep things fair. Here at U.A. —” he let the ball drop and caught it again with a snap of his wrist, “— there’s no such rule. Use your quirks however you want. Show me the full extent of your power.”

The class murmured in surprise, unsure whether this was a blessing or a challenge.

Aizawa’s eyes flicked over the students, landing on one familiar face.
“Bakugo. You’re up.”

Katsuki cracked his knuckles as he stepped forward, tossing the softball up and down in one hand, a sharp grin tugging at his mouth. His confidence was practically radiating off him. The others backed away as he took his place in the throwing circle.

Kaia stood near the middle of the line, arms crossed loosely as she watched, knowing all too well that Katsuki wasn’t going to hold back. She felt the faint, pulsing tremor of the explosion that lit off the second his arm launched the ball. The bright flash of his quirk sent the softball rocketing into the sky, too fast for the naked eye to follow.

Aizawa lifted the scanner in his hand — the numbers blinked.
705.2 meters.

The class gawked in disbelief, even as Katsuki shoved his hands back in his pockets, scowl deepening like it was no big deal.

Aizawa turned back toward them, voice flat but clear.
“This is how you’ll be evaluated today. The use of quirks is expected — no excuses. And one last thing...”

He let the weight of the pause fall like a hammer.

“The student who comes in last — will be expelled.”

A silence washed over the group like cold water, the easy excitement that once coloured their faces drained away. Kaia felt the shift in the earth under her feet, the subtle shift in her classmates’ heartbeats — fear, tension, determination.

As the class stood frozen, still absorbing the weight of Aizawa’s words, Kaia let her focus shift — not outward, but inward. Her seismic sense flickered out like a ripple across the field. Beneath all the sharp intakes of breath, pounding hearts, and shifting feet, one pulse stood out. Calm. Steady. But beneath that iron stillness, there was something else.

Excitement.

Aizawa might’ve worn the expression of someone half-asleep, but Kaia could feel the truth under the surface. He was bluffing — testing them, pushing their nerves to the limit on day one. A real hero needed to handle pressure, and this was step one.

Still, bluff or not, that didn’t mean she’d coast through it. Kaia squared her shoulders, eyes locked on the field ahead. The last thing she wanted was to be caught slacking, or worse — overdoing it. She knew her body too well; one slip and she’d risk turning herself stiff as stone.

Her eyes flicked toward the rest of her classmates. Some pale with nerves, some bouncing on their heels, trying to psych themselves up. Izuku was practically vibrating where he stood, green eyes darting from Aizawa to the ground like he was stuck mid-crisis. Katsuki stood further down the line, arms crossed and cocky as ever, his earlier throw still hanging heavy in the air.

Kaia let out a slow, steady breath. One step at a time.

*****

Kaia watched from the sidelines as her classmates took their turns, each one showing off just what quirks could do when rules weren’t holding them back. Some used raw strength, others used clever tricks, and then there was Uraraka — her ball floating higher and higher until the sensor blinked with the word Infinity across the screen. The class lit up with stunned cheers, but Kaia stayed quiet, her heart steadying.

Her name was finally called.

She stepped into the circle, the ball feeling heavier in her hand than it did a moment ago. She closed her eyes for a second, tuning in to the earth beneath her sneakers. Her heart synced to the low, familiar hum of vibrations pulsing under the dirt — her oldest, sharpest sense.

With one solid stomp, the ground quivered faintly around her feet, the tremor traveling up through her legs, spine, and finally coiling at her shoulder like a loaded spring. Without hesitation, she snapped her arm forward, releasing all that built-up force in one clean motion.

The ball soared, slicing through the air like a bullet, high and far beyond what her own strength could’ve pulled off alone.

A moment later, the device beeped: 926 meters.

A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She stepped away from the circle, hands on her hips, proud but quiet, as the other students gawked at the distance. For once, even Bakugo didn’t have a snarky remark — just a sharp glance her way, the corner of his mouth twitching upward for half a second before he looked away.

The last name called made Kaia’s ears perk up — Midoriya, Izuku.

She tilted her head slightly, curious. Out of everyone, she’d been wondering the most about him. She wonder what he did during the entrance exam, and knowing Izuku the way she did... he hadn’t exactly been the type to hide something like that. He’d never had a quirk before. At least, not until now — had he?

He stepped up to the throwing circle, the ball cradled awkwardly in both hands. Kaia could tell even from a distance — he was nervous, but there was something else too. Like he was working out a plan in his head. A deep breath, a firm stance, and then—

The moment the ball left his fingers, Kaia felt it. A ripple in the air, a sudden surge of raw force. Her seismic sense prickled at the unnatural pulse that came from him, a split second before the ball cut through the sky like a cannon blast. The gust of wind brushed her face, strong and sharp.

706 meters.

Her eyes widened, staring at him, not bothering to hide the shock. When... when did he get a quirk?

Before she could even think about the answer, her attention drifted to Bakugo — his face twisted, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt, and his hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. His whole posture was seconds away from boiling over.

Kaia’s gaze flicked back to Izuku just in time to see him lower his hand, his finger bent at an unnatural angle, the skin flushed and swollen from the impact. Her chest tightened at the sight.

So that’s the catch...

The score was impressive — but the damage, even more telling.

Kaia crossed her arms, standing quietly, thoughts buzzing. There were a lot of questions, but for now, she held them close, choosing to simply watch as Aizawa approached Izuku, scarf trailing behind him. She had a feeling this was only the beginning.

*****

The rest of the morning flew by, filled with test after test. Each one pushed Kaia and her classmates to adapt, think, and apply their quirks in ways that weren’t always about flash — but control, strength, and strategy.

The 50-meter dash had been quick but challenging. Kaia relied more on her natural speed than her quirk, knowing the tremors under her feet wouldn’t give her much of an edge on the track. During the grip strength test, she channeled her vibration control subtly into her muscles, holding the handle until the machine nearly cracked under the pressure. The side-steps were more of a warm-up, the movements almost meditative as her body shifted to the rhythm of the ground beneath her.

By the end of it all, the sun sat higher in the sky, the class gathered around Aizawa, who — as usual — looked like he’d rather be asleep in his capture weapon than dealing with twenty one new students.

He finally held up the tablet, the results blinking on screen.

Fourth place.

Kaia blinked down at the number by her name, her lips pulling into a small, quiet smile. She wasn’t surprised at her placing — she had trained hard for this — but part of her couldn’t help but feel proud seeing it written in black and white.

The class murmured, some students buzzing with excitement, others frowning at their rankings. Aizawa raised a hand, silencing them.

“Before you relax,” he said flatly, “I should mention something.”

The air tensed.

“That thing about expulsion?” he added, letting the words hang in the air, dry as ever. “It was a lie. A rational deception to bring out your best effort.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Shocked faces turned toward each other, a mix of relief and irritation crossing the class like a wave. Kaia, however, wasn’t all that surprised.

She tilted her head toward desk beside her, catching Momo’s calm expression. The two girls shared a glance and a knowing smile — Kaia could tell Momo had figured it out, too. Smart, observant. Just like she expected.

Kaia leaned back slightly on her heels, arms loosely folded. Even so, her chest felt lighter than it had all morning. The first day had only just begun, and already U.A. was proving to be exactly the challenge she’d been hoping for.

***** (edit - 14/11/25 - re-reading and realized i left out a whole chapter, so i added it here!!) *****

The cafeteria buzzed with life, students from all courses packed around tables with trays balanced high with food. Class 1-A had clustered together without even meaning to, a little island of nervous energy and excitement. The girls had claimed a table near the window, the sunlight pooling across their lunch trays as conversation started to flow more easily now that the first real hurdle of the day was behind them.

Kaia sat quietly, her chopsticks clicking softly against her bowl as she listened to her new classmates chat about the quirk test, classes, and what U.A. life might throw at them next. She lifted her head, scanning the room out of habit. A familiar ripple of energy tugged at her senses — Izuku sat a few tables away, locked in conversation with Ida, the two of them speaking animatedly between bites.

After all this time, was he hiding it from me? Why didn’t he say anything? For someone as obsessed with quirks like him, he would be off the walls, waiting to tell me the big news.

Her focus was pulled back when Mina, bright and curious as ever, leaned toward her, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hey, Mikage,” Mina said, resting her chin on her palm. “I’ve been meaning to ask — are you, like, related to Bedrock? The pro hero?”

The question drew the attention of the other girls. Uraraka’s eyes widened, Tsuyu tilted her head, and even Momo looked slightly more intrigued than usual.

Kaia paused, lowering her chopsticks. She could feel the subtle shift in the table’s mood — curious but not unkind.

“Yeah,” Kaia answered after a beat, voice calm but soft. “He’s my dad.”

Mina practically lit up. “No way! That’s so cool! He’s super tough, I saw him during a rescue mission last year on the news. He basically moved half a collapsed building like it was nothing.”

Kaia’s expression softened at that, a quiet pride flickering behind her eyes. “Yeah... he’s pretty strong.”

Momo, ever composed, added, “That does explain your technique during the softball throw. The way you used the vibrations — it was very precise.”

Kaia nodded lightly, feeling her shoulders relax a little more. “He’s taught me a lot, but I’ve still got a long way to go.”

The conversation moved on, the girls chatting about their quirks, favorite pro heroes, and school expectations — the easy rhythm of a new friendship starting to settle in.

And while Kaia didn’t always speak as much, she found herself enjoying the moment — a small but meaningful shift from the quiet lunches she’d spent at her old school, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to feel something close to excitement about the days ahead.

*****

Izuku sat at a table near the corner of the cafeteria, still adjusting to the whirlwind that had become his life. Just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t even had a quirk. Now here he was — an official U.A. student — sitting in a place he had only ever dreamed about, with his acceptance still barely sinking in.

Across from him, Ida was mid-sentence, hands chopping the air with his usual earnestness as he explained the importance of proper lunch etiquette. Izuku nodded along, but his mind drifted. His right hand rested lightly on his bandaged finger, the dull ache a sharp reminder of One For All’s cost. He tried to focus on Ida, but his gaze flicked over to a table by the window.

Kaia.

She was surrounded by the girls of Class 1-A, her expression soft and at ease as Mina animatedly talked to her. It was a rare thing — seeing Kaia truly relaxed. He could tell the conversation had drifted to something personal. Her eyes had that distant look, the kind she got when something touched a deeper part of her.

Even now, Izuku couldn’t help but marvel at how much she’d grown. They’d been friends for so long, and despite the distance that had crept between them over the years, there was still something grounding about her presence. Steady, quiet, and observant — Kaia had always been good at reading people, even when she stayed silent.

And for all the chaos and excitement of this new chapter, her being here brought him a strange sense of comfort. A small piece of home, in a place full of strangers and unknowns.

His mind wandered back to this morning — the look Kaia had given him after the softball throw, wide-eyed and confused. She’d sensed it, even before the ball left his hand. She always did. Izuku knew he’d have to tell her about his quirk sooner or later. She deserved that. But part of him wasn’t ready to share everything — not yet. One For All was still new to him, and he wasn’t even sure how to explain it without sounding insane.

Ida’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Midoriya, are you alright? You’ve been staring off for quite a while.”

Izuku blinked and rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish smile. “Ah—sorry! Just thinking about the tests earlier.”

Ida nodded, accepting the excuse without question, and launched into another explanation about their schedule for the week. Izuku listened, but his eyes drifted back once more to Kaia, watching as she laughed quietly at something Mina said.

Even with all the change, some part of their little trio — fractured though it was — had followed him here. And deep down, he was glad for it.

*****

The sun hung low, stretching long shadows across the empty U.A. courtyard as Kaia adjusted the straps of her backpack. The soft crunch of her boots on the pavement was the only sound as she stepped into the open, her senses quietly registering the soft pulse of two very familiar heartbeats nearby.

Izuku and Katsuki.

She slowed her steps when their voices reached her — not shouts, but sharp enough to slice the quiet clean in half. The tone was all too familiar, the weight behind the words pulling her feet to a stop.

Katsuki stood stiff, hands jammed deep into his pockets, eyes sharp with that same stormy glare he always carried when something crawled under his skin. Izuku, on the other hand, looked worn thin — the kind of tired that wasn’t from physical training but from dragging the truth behind him all day like a heavy chain.

"...I don’t owe you an explanation, Kacchan." Izuku’s voice was quiet, but his jaw was set.

"Like hell you don’t." Katsuki’s reply came out low, almost a growl. "You’ve been hiding it. You’ve been hiding it from her."

Kaia felt her chest tighten at the mention, knowing full well ‘her’ meant herself. She stayed out of sight, pressing lightly against the side of the building. Eavesdropping wasn’t her style — but the weight of their words held her still.

"You had a quirk this whole time? Or did you just wake up one day with it? You really thought you could lie to us and we wouldn’t notice?"

Izuku looked away, jaw tight, hands fisting at his sides. "It’s... new. And I wasn’t lying — I didn’t have one before."

Katsuki scoffed, turning his head, the sun catching in his sharp blond hair. "You don’t get to pull the ‘poor me’ act anymore, Deku. You’re just like the rest of us now. No... you’re worse. You’ve been lying to Kaia. She deserved to know."

Izuku’s voice cracked the smallest bit, the guilt obvious even if his words were few. "I didn’t know how to tell her."

That silence hung heavy for a moment, the air thick between the two boys.

Katsuki’s posture loosened slightly, but only just. "You’d better figure it out." His voice wasn’t angry anymore, only cold. "Because keeping her in the dark? You know better than anyone... she hates that."

Kaia stepped back, her breath light but steady. She didn’t know what stung more — the fact that Katsuki had called it out so easily, or the fact that Izuku hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her first.

Kaia’s steps were light but steady as she finally rounded the corner, revealing herself to the boys. Both of them fell silent the moment they noticed her — Izuku’s eyes wide and guilt-stricken, Katsuki’s mouth tugging tight, like he’d been caught mid-argument.

The air hung heavy between the three of them, a knot of unspoken thoughts pressing on her chest. Kaia came to a slow stop a few feet away, her hands tucked loosely into her pockets.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Then Kaia broke the silence, her voice soft but even.

"I’m sure..." she started, glancing between them, "there’s a really good reason you didn’t tell us." Her eyes lingered on Izuku, kind and warm but not without their own flicker of hurt. "But... I’m happy for you, Izuku. You’ve always wanted this."

Her hand lifted, giving his shoulder a gentle rub, a small squeeze of reassurance. Izuku flinched at the kindness, swallowing hard as his throat tightened, but Kaia didn’t press him. She didn’t ask for an explanation. Not right now.

She turned her head slightly toward Katsuki — his crimson eyes met hers, sharp but unreadable — and gave him the barest of glances, a silent exchange passing between them. No words, just an understanding that she’d heard more than enough.

Without waiting for either of them to speak, Kaia stepped past them, the breeze tugging lightly at her uniform as she walked toward the open gates. The weight on her chest still lingered, but her steps stayed calm, steady, and light.

Kaia’s boots scuffed against the sidewalk, the afternoon sun soft and warm on her skin, but the dull ache in her chest still lingered from earlier. She hadn’t gotten too far from the U.A. gates before she felt it — the weight of approaching footsteps. She knew that walk by heart.

Before he could open his mouth to call out, Kaia came to a slow stop. Hands still tucked into her pockets, she stood there in quiet, waiting. She heard him approach, his pace steady but not rushed, and when he finally caught up, the two started walking side by side without a word at first.

The silence wasn’t as heavy as before — more thoughtful than tense. Finally, it was Katsuki who broke it, his voice low, but lacking the usual bite.

"...I didn’t know the nerd had it in him," he muttered, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

Kaia let out a dry little laugh through her nose. "Neither did I. But... I guess he finally got what he’s been wishing for since we were kids."

Katsuki didn’t answer right away, jaw clenching slightly before he spoke again. "You’re not mad about it?"

Kaia glanced sideways at him, her expression soft but honest. "Not mad. Just... surprised." Her eyes drifted forward again. "I’m more curious than anything. But I’m happy for him, Kats. Even if he couldn’t tell us."

A small grunt left him, the closest thing to agreement he could manage, and the two walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier slowly fading.

As they neared Kaia’s street, her eyes caught sight of two familiar cars parked out front: her mom’s, and Mitsuki Bakugo’s, bold as ever with its scuffed bumpers and distinct, sun-faded bobblehead shaking in the window. Kaia slowed her pace, her lips tugging up into a knowing, playful smirk.

"Well, looks like your ‘hag’ beat you home," she teased, nudging Katsuki lightly with her elbow.

Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes but not protesting the nickname.

Kaia pulled her keys from her pocket and swung open the front gate, glancing over her shoulder. "You coming in or what? Might as well. I’m sure your mom’s got at least one story lined up to embarrass you."

Without waiting for his answer, she stepped onto the porch, pushing the door open and calling out lightly, "We’re home."

Inside, the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of teacups echoed from the kitchen, both moms deep in chatter. The scent of freshly brewed tea and some kind of home-baked snack filled the air, the kind of comfort that could ease any long day.

Kaia stepped through the front door, the soft scent of her mom’s favorite tea and freshly baked sweet buns curling through the air. She kicked off her shoes lazily, bag slung over her shoulder, the weight of the day finally starting to settle on her shoulders in full. The soft hum of laughter drifted from the kitchen, and when she rounded the corner, she spotted her mom standing by the stove, mid-conversation, while Mitsuki sat comfortably at the table, cup of tea in hand.

Both women turned at the sound of her arrival, their conversation pausing mid-sentence. For a split second, both looked surprised to see her — and then their eyes flicked past her shoulder, catching sight of Katsuki trailing in behind.

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow, her lips tugging into a sharp, knowing smirk. “Well, well. Look who followed you home like a stray,” she teased, lifting her cup slightly in mock salute.

Kaia’s mom gave a soft chuckle, setting her own cup down and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t expect to see you two walk in together. Thought you’d have split off after school. First day go alright?”

Kaia and Katsuki exchanged a glance, the kind that lasted barely a second but said more than words could. His usual sharp expression was pulled tight, the crease between his brows deep and unspoken, while Kaia’s was more subdued — thoughtful, still processing the weight of the day.

She dropped her bag by one of the dining chairs, sliding into the seat across from Mitsuki, tapping her nails lightly on the table. “It was... interesting,” she said carefully, voice soft but carrying enough weight to grab their attention. Then, after a small pause:

“Izuku has a quirk.”

The room fell still for a beat. Both women blinked, Mitsuki lowering her cup slightly while Kaia’s mom tilted her head, as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

“Izuku?” her mom echoed, brows knitting upward. “Midoriya?”

Leaning against the doorframe, Katsuki crossed his arms, his usual scowl tinged with something harder to place — frustration, confusion, and maybe a pinch of old wounds. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low. “Outta nowhere.”

Mitsuki leaned back slightly in her chair, tapping her fingers against her mug. “Huh. That kid?” she mused, more to herself than anyone else. “Finally, huh. Always figured it was odd for someone so hero-obsessed to be quirkless.”

Kaia rubbed the back of her neck, her gaze wandering to the window, where the last glow of daylight was beginning to fade. “It surprised all of us. He used it during the quirk assessment. Threw the ball so hard it nearly left the grounds... but broke his finger doing it.” She glanced toward Katsuki, watching his jaw clench slightly at the mention. “Whatever his quirk is, it’s strong — but it’s not something he’s got full control over.”

Her mom’s lips pressed into a small, thoughtful line, before reaching for the kettle and pouring Kaia a fresh cup of tea, sliding it across the table toward her. “Sounds like you’re all going to have your hands full this year,” she said gently, though her eyes flicked toward Mitsuki for a moment, something quietly motherly passing between them.

Mitsuki snorted, breaking the moment with her signature sharpness. “You kids haven’t even seen the half of it,” she quipped, resting her chin in her palm. “And you —” her eyes flicked to her son — “don’t go letting your pride get in the way of your brains. You’ve been training for this long enough.”

Katsuki huffed, scowling toward the floor but not arguing. Kaia’s mom just smiled slightly at the exchange, her gaze softening as she looked between them.

Kaia sipped the tea, feeling the warmth settle the last bit of tension in her chest. For all the chaos of the day, it felt good to be home — even with the world already feeling like it was shifting beneath her feet.

The evening carried on with soft conversation and the occasional burst of laughter, but the hour crept forward, and soon enough, the Bakugos were gathering their things to head home. Katsuki’s hands stuffed deep in his pockets, dragging his feet just slightly behind his mom as usual, while Mitsuki paused at the door as Kaia leaned against the frame.

“Tell Uncle hello for me,” Kaia said with a warm smile, voice light but genuine.

Mitsuki flashed her a smirk and a small wave, her sharp voice softened with something almost affectionate. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll let him know. Don’t let this one slack off,” she added, jerking her thumb toward Katsuki, who grumbled under his breath as he stepped past.

Kaia’s mom shared a parting chuckle with Mitsuki before closing the door behind them, the house falling into a gentle quiet, the kind that always felt a little heavier once guests had gone. Kaia wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the leftovers from lunch — her mom’s homemade yakisoba and grilled pork cutlets waiting in a neat little container.

She plated up her food and settled at the table, the soft glow of the kitchen light humming low above her, eating slowly as her mind drifted back over the events of the day — from Aizawa’s deadpan threats to Izuku’s surprise, to the tense walk home with Katsuki. It still felt a little surreal.

Her mom moved about the kitchen too, rinsing cups and tidying the space, her movements casual and quiet until the sharp ring of her cell phone cut through the stillness. She answered quickly, turning slightly away from Kaia, her voice light at first, casual — but as the conversation dragged on, Kaia noticed the subtle change.

Her mother’s posture shifted, one hand resting on the counter, her voice flattening, the way it always did when she was trying to hold back disappointment.

When the call finally ended, she stood there for a second, her phone still in her hand, staring at the dark screen.

Kaia set her chopsticks down slowly, watching her mom’s expression — the one she knew too well by now.

“Dad?” she asked softly.

Her mom offered a small, apologetic smile, but her eyes gave away the answer before her voice did. “Yeah,” she sighed, setting the phone aside and brushing her hands over her face. “He’s stuck at the office again. Said he won’t make it home in time for dinner... or the movie.”

Kaia sat back in her chair, the food suddenly not as appetizing, her heart sinking a little for her mom. She could see the faint disappointment lingering behind her mother’s tired eyes — the kind that never really went away, no matter how many times it happened.

Her mom tried to shake it off with a soft chuckle, moving to sit across from her at the table. “Looks like it’s just the two of us, kiddo,” she mused gently, resting her chin on her palm.

Kaia offered her a small smile, picking her chopsticks back up and nudging a piece of pork cutlet around her plate. “Guess so,” she mumbled, voice quiet but warm. “We can still watch something... if you want.”

Her mom glanced at her, the corner of her mouth twitching into a more genuine smile this time, reaching across the table to ruffle Kaia’s hair. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The two of them sat there for a little while longer, eating in quiet, comfortable silence — the house filled with nothing but the sound of cicadas humming outside the window and the faint clatter of dishes.

After finishing their quiet dinner, Kaia helped her mom clear the table and rinse off the dishes, both of them moving around the kitchen with the kind of ease that only came from years of routine. The air wasn’t heavy anymore — just soft, settled, like both of them had silently agreed to make the best of the night.

Once the kitchen was clean, Kaia padded over to the living room, grabbing the old throw blanket from the back of the couch as her mom flipped through the TV menus, stopping on an old, familiar movie — one they’d watched a hundred times before. It wasn’t anything fancy, just an easy comfort.

Her mom sank into the corner of the couch with a sigh, resting her head back for a second before glancing over at Kaia, who plopped down beside her and pulled the blanket across both their laps. Kaia leaned her head gently against her mother’s shoulder, her eyes soft, feeling the warmth of her presence even if neither of them said much.

The opening credits rolled, casting a soft glow across the dim living room. For a while, neither of them spoke — just the sound of the movie filling the space, the flicker of light from the TV dancing against the walls.

Halfway through the film, Kaia felt her mom shift slightly, her hand coming up to brush her hair lightly, fingers lingering in a small, absent-minded way the way mothers do when they want to say something without words. Kaia tilted her head, glancing up.

“You know,” her mom murmured, her voice quiet, “even when your dad gets caught up with work, he’s still proud of you. He asks about you all the time.”

Kaia nodded slightly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I know,” she whispered, and even though there was still a sting of disappointment, it wasn’t bitter. She understood.

Her mom gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder before settling back into the couch, the two of them sinking into the quiet comfort of the movie, letting the night go on without any more weight.

It wasn’t the evening they’d planned — but it was still theirs.

Chapter Text

The gym was filled with the usual hustle and bustle of Class 1-A's first aid class. The students were spread out, forming small groups, their chatter and laughter filling the space. At the front, Hound Dog stood, his large, dog-like form creating an imposing presence, but his expression was calm, almost friendly as he addressed the class.

"Alright, Class 1-A, listen up! Today you’ll be working in groups to build a skeleton from the bones I’ve given you. This is a crucial skill to understand, especially in case you ever have to treat someone who's injured or unconscious. Now, no messing around. I’m sure you all know the importance of these lessons." Hound Dog gave a short, growling bark, and his eyes scanned over the class. Despite the intimidating look, there was something surprisingly gentle in his eyes when he looked over the students — he truly cared.

Kaia felt her stomach flutter slightly with anticipation. It was one thing to learn the theory behind first aid, but now they’d be working hands-on. This was different. She glanced around, looking for her group.

She found herself paired up with Kirishima, Jirou, and Tokoyami. The trio waved her over, and she joined them in a small circle near a large container filled with various bones — some large, some small. A challenge had been set before them: to take the bones and assemble the skeleton correctly.

"Alright, Mikage!" Kirishima grinned widely, his usual upbeat energy infectious. "This is gonna be awesome! We’ve got this, right, Jirou?"

Jirou rolled her eyes playfully but smiled. "Don’t get too excited, Kirishima. We’re here to learn, not just to have fun." She grinned, though, her hand already reaching for a femur bone. "But yeah, we’ve got this."

Tokoyami, standing with his usual calm demeanor, reached for a skull with careful hands, his shadowy bird-like features giving him an air of eerie focus. “As long as we focus, we will complete this challenge efficiently.”

Kaia smiled softly, grateful for her group. She had always worked well with them, and while they were a bit of a mixed bunch, they made a great team. Kaia was also relieved to have a group where everyone seemed to know their strengths. Kirishima’s boundless energy, Jirou’s sharp, quick thinking, and Tokoyami’s careful precision balanced out nicely.

Kaia kneeled down to the container, carefully sorting through the bones. Her hands gently brushed over them, feeling the vibrations and tiny movements as she sorted the pieces. There was a strange calm in doing something this meticulous — she hadn’t expected it, but it was almost meditative.

“So, where do we start?” Kaia asked, glancing at the group. “Should we begin with the spine? That’s usually the base, right?”

Kirishima looked over at her, nodding enthusiastically. “Spine first. It’s the backbone of the whole body. Let’s get that in place and then work our way out!”

Jirou raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?” She smirked but then grabbed the first vertebra. “Alright, let's do this. Mikage, you know the skeleton well, right?”

Kaia nodded. “I’ve had a good bit of practice with anatomy. My dad used to teach me some basics about the body when I was younger. It’s not too bad once you know the order of things.”

“I’m counting on you then,” Jirou replied with a grin.

Working together, they began to assemble the skeleton, starting with the spine. As they placed each vertebra, the group’s conversation turned to lighter matters. Kirishima, as always, filled the silence with loud excitement, asking Kaia if she’d ever seen any really gruesome injuries during her time training. Kaia, trying to keep the conversation calm, explained a few minor accidents she had witnessed in training with her dad but didn’t get too graphic.

The others followed suit, piecing together the larger bones next — ribs, arms, legs, hips. Kirishima occasionally made exaggerated comments about the skeleton looking like an action figure, and Tokoyami chimed in with odd remarks about how “the bones should remain undisturbed by the shadows.” But despite the fun banter, they kept focused on the task.

Kaia couldn’t help but admire how well they worked together. Even though they were all so different, the synergy was there. Tokoyami’s precision paired well with Jirou’s practicality, and Kirishima’s energy was balanced by Kaia’s careful attention to detail.

As the skeleton slowly came to life under their hands, Kaia felt the thrill of accomplishment. The bones fit together, the skeleton standing taller with each piece they added.

“I think we’re almost done,” Kaia said, standing back to admire their work.

“Just the hands and feet left, right?” Jirou said, already reaching for the hands.

“I got the feet!” Kirishima leapt into action, his big grin back on his face as he picked up the bones. “Let’s finish this off strong!”

As the final pieces fell into place, Kaia couldn’t help but smile proudly. The skeleton stood upright, assembled neatly and correctly.

“Great job, everyone,” Kaia said, feeling the pride in her chest as she stepped back and looked at their work.

Tokoyami gave a small, approving nod. “Efficient and precise.”

Jirou cracked her knuckles, “I guess I’ll accept that. It turned out better than expected.”

Kirishima flexed his muscles with a laugh. “What can I say? We’re just that awesome.”

Kaia chuckled softly at their antics, feeling a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie with her friends. Despite the heavy responsibilities they all carried as future heroes, moments like this — where they could come together as a team and support each other — felt like they made it all worthwhile.

Hound Dog came by to inspect their progress, nodding with approval as he checked their work. “Not bad. You’ve got the skeleton in place. Good teamwork. But I’m gonna make sure you all remember how important it is to work together during emergencies. You may know the theory, but you have to apply it in real situations.”

Kaia nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. Even in something as simple as this, she could see how important it was for the team to come together and handle the situation with care. “We’ll remember that Hound Dog,” she said softly, her eyes meeting the gaze of her teammates, who all nodded in agreement.

And with that, they had completed their first major task together as a team — a small, but important victory in their journey to becoming professional heroes.

*****

The cafeteria buzzed with life, trays clattered, students swapped stories about class, quirks, and training mishaps, and the mouth-watering scent of whatever masterpiece Lunch Rush had whipped up for the day drifted through the air. Kaia stood in line, stomach grumbling softly, having forgotten to pack herself lunch that morning in the whirlwind rush to get to school on time. She shuffled forward with the line, eyes scanning the menu posted above the counter, already knowing anything Lunch Rush made would hit the spot.

Just as she was about to step forward, a familiar voice piped up behind her.

“Yo, Mikage.”

She turned slightly, catching Denki Kaminari grinning lazily at her, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“Hey, Kaminari,” she replied, offering him a small smile.

“Didn’t bring lunch today either, huh?” He tilted his head, flashing that easy going, slightly sheepish smile of his. “You’d think with all the hero training we’d be better at, y’know… planning meals.”

Kaia let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Guess not. I was too busy running around this morning. Almost forgot my notebooks too.”

As the line crept forward, Kaminari kept the conversation light, talking about the new move Aizawa hinted at teaching them soon, and about how he was still trying to convince Bakugo to not blow up the practice dummies so fast during combat drills. Kaia found herself relaxing, the easy banter helping ease the usual midday fatigue.

When they finally had their trays loaded up with food, he nodded toward his usual spot at the long table near the window, where Kirishima, Sero, and even Bakugo were already seated — though the ash-blond looked more like he’d been dragged there against his will, sulking behind his plate. Ashido sat perched on the edge of the bench, waving wildly the moment she spotted Kaia.

“Hey, uh, you should come sit with us today,” he offered, scratching the back of his head. “Y’know — if you’re cool with it. Ashido's been splitting her time between both groups anyway, so it’s not like there’s a ‘team’ or anything.”

Kaia glanced over, spotting Momo and Jirou at their usual spot. Momo caught her glance and shot her a knowing smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave as if silently telling her it was okay.

Kaia weighed the choice for only a second. She’d slowly started finding her little group of people in Class 1-A, but Kaminari's offer wasn’t pressure — just a genuine open hand.

“Sure,” she said, lifting her tray. “I’ll join you guys.”

Denki’s grin widened, clearly pleased. “Cool! C’mon, you’ll finally get to witness the disaster that is Sero’s food combinations.”

As they walked toward the table, Kaia felt that quiet warmth in her chest — that unfamiliar but welcome feeling of belonging slowly rooting itself into her new life at U.A.

The moment Kaia slid into the open spot at the table, nestled between Kirishima and Ashido, the group’s easy going energy wrapped around her like a comfortable hoodie.

“Yo, Mikage!” Kirishima beamed, his sharp-toothed smile as bright as always. “Didn’t think you’d defect from the ‘smart kids’ table so soon.”

Kaia let out a small laugh, setting her tray down. “Not defecting, just...expanding my options.” She cast a playful glance at Denki, who puffed up proudly like he’d won some kind of prize.

Ashido leaned in, grinning ear to ear. “Told you! I knew you’d fit right in here.” She popped a bite of her rice into her mouth, still half talking. “Plus, you need a break from all that serious Momo-and-Jirou energy sometimes.”

Sero, lounging across from her, lifted a peace sign. “Welcome to the chaos corner.” He dramatically sprinkled hot sauce over a weird combo of curry and salad, earning a grimace from Kaia.

“You eat that on purpose?” she raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” he replied, shoveling a bite into his mouth, only to immediately regret it as his face lit up from the heat. The whole table burst out laughing.

Toward the end of the table, Katsuki sat slouched in his seat, earbuds in, hunched over his meal like a barricade between himself and the world. But Kaia could feel the low rumble of his mood — even without her seismic sense, she could tell he wasn’t as tuned out as he looked.

He didn’t say anything when she sat, but she caught the brief glance he gave her, subtle and sharp, like he was making sure she was actually staying.

“Bakugo,” Ashido sing-songed, nudging his arm with her chopsticks, “aren’t you happy Mikage’s finally sitting with us?”

“Tch,” he huffed, not looking up. “Don’t care.”

Kaia smirked slightly, resting her chin in her hand. “Sure you don’t.”

The conversation flowed from there, from comparing the morning’s training bruises, to Sero trying to convince everyone to join him in a ‘tape obstacle course challenge’ he’d thought up, to Kirishima passionately describing a hero documentary he watched the night before. Kaminari cracked jokes that were mostly dumb but somehow charming, and Ashido kept bouncing between conversations, easily the spark that kept the entire group glowing.

Even Bakugo, in his own way, was part of it — silent but present, occasionally muttering sharp comments under his breath when someone’s plan or story got too dumb for him to ignore.

Kaia found herself relaxed in a way that felt new, the laughter and teasing banter slowly melting away the usual nervous edge of her day. When lunch ended, she stood with the group as they tossed their trays and headed back toward class, shoulder-bumping Kirishima as they walked.

It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a lunch table. Just a small circle of friends.

But for Kaia, it felt like the first real step toward something steady. Something safe.

*****

After lunch, the students settled back into the classroom. Mr. Aizawa going over the tactics for hero training that afternoon.

Kaia’s head snapped toward the door the moment she felt it — the unmistakable, larger-than-life pulse of someone powerful approaching. Even before the handle twisted, her heart skipped.

The door slid open with the same dramatic energy that could only belong to one man.

“All Might!” Midoriya practically gasped, eyes wide and sparkling.

The towering hero stood in the doorway, beaming his signature smile, hand on his hip and his voice booming like a stage actor.
“I am here! — To join you all for your first official hero training session!”

The entire class lit up with excitement. Even Bakugo, who tried to keep his cool, stiffened ever so slightly at the sight of the Number One Hero standing in their classroom. Kaia couldn’t help but smile softly to herself — his presence was like the sun breaking through heavy clouds, impossible to ignore.

Aizawa, however, looked as unbothered as ever, tugging his sleeping bag around his shoulders a bit more snugly before raising the remote in his hand and clicking a button.

The wall near the back of the classroom shifted panels sliding open with a mechanical hum. One by one, suitcases rolled out from hidden compartments, neatly lined up with large numbers painted across them.

“Before you can train, you’ll need these,” Aizawa muttered. “Your hero costumes.”

A wave of excitement rippled through the room as students rushed to spot their cases, each one designed to match the number they were assigned during orientation. Kaia stood up, her fingers trailing over the smooth handle of suitcase No. 12 — her name stamped across the tag in crisp, bold letters.

She paused for a second, running her hand over it. This wasn’t just gear. It was the first real step into the world she’d been dreaming about since childhood — the first moment where her quirk, her training, and her heart all came together under one title: hero.

All Might clapped his hands together, that booming voice full of pride.
“Suit up, young heroes! I’ll see you on the training field!”

Kaia exchanged glances with Momo and Ashido, the same bubbling excitement mirrored on their faces. Grabbing her suitcase, she followed the others out, her pulse steady and strong — ready for whatever was waiting for them on the field.

*****

The class stood gathered in the wide courtyard outside the training building, all decked out in their brand-new hero costumes. The energy in the air was electric — excitement mixed with nerves as everyone adjusted to the feel of their suits for the first time.

Kaia shifted slightly in hers, the sleek, armoured design moving smoothly with her. Her parents had worked on the final look together — dark earth tones with subtle gold accents, durable material woven to accommodate both her combat style and her bending abilities. It felt like wearing a piece of home.

All Might stood at the front of the group, radiating his usual charisma as he explained the rules of their first exercise:

“You’ll be split into teams — one side playing villains protecting this ‘bomb,’” he gestured to the black, foam-wrapped prop sitting in the center of the building’s upper floor, “while the heroes attempt to retrieve it. Heroes win by securing the device. Villains win by defending it — or subduing the heroes using these!”

He held up a long, white silk ribbon for everyone to see.

“Capture your opponents and tie them securely, and the round is yours!”

As the names were drawn, Kaia found herself paired with Momo Yaoyorozu and Koji Koda — a strong combination, one of strategy, brute support, and elemental control.

Kaia glanced at Momo, who gave her a sharp, confident smile, already working through tactics in her head. Koda stood calmly beside them, giving a small, supportive nod — though shy, his quiet strength was hard to miss.

The three of them were assigned the role of Villains for the round, stationed inside the training building alongside the bomb.

As they made their way inside, Kaia’s mind was already calculating. The building was tight with plenty of corners, concrete walls perfect for transmitting her seismic sense. She crouched beside the bomb as Momo crafted some extra defensive gear from her costume’s fabric, Koda already sending small, silent commands to the birds fluttering outside the windows to keep watch.

Once the timer started and the heroes were unleashed, Kaia pressed her palm lightly against the ground — her eyes closing for a brief second as vibrations rippled up through her arm. She could feel them approaching.

“This’ll be fun,” she whispered under her breath, flashing Momo a small, eager smile.

The first real step to becoming a hero wasn’t going to be easy — but Kaia was ready.

Shoto’s signature move was on its way. The building’s temperature dropped in a flash, the air frosting over before a massive wave of ice surged through the hallways and up the walls, spreading like wildfire.

Her eyes snapped open, sharp and focused.

“They’re here — brace!” she warned, snapping her head toward Momo and Koda. With no time to spare, Kaia slammed her foot down hard, her quirk pulsing through the stone beneath them. The floor rumbled as if alive, and a thick slab of concrete lifted the three of them up from the surface, just high enough to escape the ice snaking along the ground.

The wave of frost blasted through the room, coating everything — the walls, the pillars, even the air vents — locking them in a glacial cage. But Kaia’s quick reaction kept them clear, perched on their little platform of earth, balanced but ready.

Momo, crouched beside her, quickly summoned small heat packs and thermal wraps from her creation quirk, handing them to Koda and Kaia to guard against the creeping cold that still hung in the air.

Kaia tilted her head slightly, feeling the faintest footfalls approaching. Invisible steps — Hakagure.

“She’s in here too,” Kaia murmured, her voice low but clear. “Todoroki’s freezing us in place while she goes for the bomb.”

Koda, understanding without needing words, sent a soft whistle vibrating through the room, birds still circling outside tapping frantically at a window, confirming Hakagure’s position.

Kaia’s heart thumped in sync with the shifting vibrations. She smirked.

“Let’s make this fair, shall we?” she whispered, already bending her knees, ready to spring into action the second their opponents made their move.

The second Kaia finished her sentence, the air shifted again — the faintest crunch of rubber soles on frosted floor told her Hakagure had gotten close to the bomb. Kaia’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift stomp, a ripple of stone jolted outward from the platform, sending tiny cracks like spiderwebs across the ice-covered floor.

The tremor disrupted Hakagure’s balance just enough to give away her position. Momo, quick on the cue, produced a roll of capture tape from her utility belt — a clever addition she’d created before the exercise — and with precise aim, she flung it toward the source of the slight scuff sound.

A surprised yelp echoed through the room as the tape caught Hakagure mid-movement, her form outlined by the way the tape wrapped around her. Kaia gave her a half-apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Toru. Had to.”

But there wasn’t time to celebrate. A sharp crack split the air as more ice burst through the upper floor, Todoroki fully committing now. His strategy had changed: if his teammate was caught, he’d turn the entire floor into a fortress of ice.

Kaia’s earth platform shuddered under the spreading pressure, but she pressed her palms to the stone again, reinforcing it with a thin layer of hardened rock while Momo worked on sealing Hakagure’s capture.

Koda, who’d been quiet the whole time, suddenly raised his hand to his ear — he’d sent a call to a pair of pigeons outside. Kaia grinned, understanding his plan instantly.

The small birds swooped in through a broken window, each carrying the end of a length of the white capture ribbon. As Todoroki stood in the corridor, focusing on sealing the room, the pigeons darted past him, wrapping the ribbon around his wrist without him even noticing until it was too late.

Kaia leaped from their platform, anchoring the other end of the ribbon to the floor with her quirk, sealing the deal.

The buzzer rang — the match was over.

“All Villain team: victory!” boomed All Might’s voice through the speaker system, full of theatrical pride.

Kaia exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as the pressure of the mock battle faded. Momo high-fived her, and even Koda gave a rare, bright smile. Hakagure, still half-wrapped in tape, pouted but chuckled.

Todoroki met Kaia’s gaze as he walked back into the room, unfazed as ever but offering her a subtle nod of acknowledgment — she’d outplayed him, fair and square.

Kaia, still catching her breath, grinned back.
“That was fun.”

And somewhere deep down, she knew — this was only the start.

*****

As the five of them stood in a line before the rest of Class 1-A, the room quieted the second Aizawa began to speak, his sharp gaze scanning each of them beneath the dry bandages of his capture weapon.

First, his eyes landed on Hakagure.
“You were nearly invisible, but you relied too much on your quirk’s passive ability and forgot to minimize sound. Invisibility isn’t useful if you announce your location by rushing.”
Hakagure lowered her head, clearly taking the note to heart, but Aizawa added dryly,
“Your timing was good, though — you reacted fast, and you went straight for the target. You’ve got good instincts.”

Next, his gaze shifted to Koda.
“You hesitated,” Aizawa said bluntly, “but you adapted by using the animals in a creative way. Communication is your strength — don’t be afraid to use it sooner.”
Koda gave a quiet nod, looking encouraged despite the straightforward critique.

Then it was Momo’s turn.
“Yaoyorozu. Your tape technique was effective, but you focused too much on support and let your team carry the offense. Balance your strategy between creation and direct action.”
Momo met his eyes confidently, prepared for the note, and he added with a faint nod,
“Still, your timing and judgment were sharp. Good leadership under pressure.”

Aizawa’s gaze slid to Todoroki next.
“You relied solely on your quirk’s strength, not strategy,” he said coolly. “You assumed overwhelming force would solve the problem. You were wrong. Heroes don’t get the luxury of assumption in real combat.”
Todoroki accepted the words without flinching, but Aizawa’s tone softened slightly at the end.
“That said, your control over your ice is excellent, and your restraint with the villain team shows maturity.”

Finally, Aizawa turned toward Kaia, holding her gaze a beat longer than the others.
“You read the situation well. Using your seismic sense to detect both the heroes and the timing of their attacks was smart. You also protected your team without overextending your quirk.”

Kaia tilted her head slightly, sensing there was more.

“But” he continued, “you delayed your final move too long, and had Todoroki escalated a second faster, you might’ve lost. Trust your instincts and act sooner.”

Then his expression shifted ever so slightly.
“Overall — good teamwork. You covered your partners, thought ahead, and used your surroundings. That’s a professional mindset.”

Kaia’s lips tugged into a small, proud smile, her chest swelling with quiet satisfaction.

Aizawa gave the whole group a final once-over before moving on.
“Get used to these critiques. In the field, mistakes cost lives. But you’re learning. That’s what matters.”

With that, he waved them back to their seats. Kaia sat down, feeling a bit more confident in herself, but also with a new goal: sharpen her reaction time and trust herself, even when the stakes weren’t real — because one day, they would be.

*****

Kaia stood near the window of the observation deck, her arms loosely crossed but her fingers tapping anxiously against her sleeve. The rest of the class gathered behind her, the room buzzing with quiet conversation and anticipation. All Might’s voice boomed through the speakers, announcing the start of the match — but Kaia could hardly focus on his words.

Her eyes were fixed on the monitors, watching as Midoriya and Uraraka entered the building with caution, while Bakugo and Ida waited inside. Kaia could already feel it — the deep, pulsing thump of Bakugo’s heavy footsteps echoing through the structure, his explosive energy practically radiating through the floor.

She let out a slow breath, trying to steady the nervous pit in her stomach. She knew Katsuki better than anyone — and she knew his pride had been bruised the moment Izuku revealed his quirk during the quirk apprehension test. This wasn’t going to be just a training match for him. This was personal.

As soon as the match started, Bakugo didn’t waste a second. His signal was clear — the building trembled slightly under the force of his first explosion. Kaia flinched, sensing the impact even from where she stood.

“Whoa — he’s not holding back, huh?” Kaminari muttered from behind her, his tone a mix of awe and unease.

Kaia glanced at him but stayed quiet, eyes locked on the screen. Uraraka had split from Izuku, leaving him to face Katsuki alone. The two boys clashed in the hallway, and Kaia could practically feel the tension building. Katsuki fought with the same fury he always had — wild but calculated — and Izuku, despite his fear, wasn’t backing down.

Her heart ached a little, torn between both boys. She knew Izuku was trying to prove himself, but Katsuki — he was still furious, still feeling betrayed, still trying to reestablish the upper hand.

She could see it in every explosion, every lunge. Katsuki wasn’t just fighting to win. He was fighting to send a message.

As the match played out, Kaia shifted from foot to foot, silently willing both of them to hold back just enough to avoid injury. "C'mon, Kats… don't lose control," she thought.

She watched as Izuku, in a split-second decision, used his quirk again — a punch that shattered his whole arm this time, powerful enough to blast Katsuki back. Uraraka used the distraction to make her way toward the bomb with Ida chasing, but in the end, the heroes managed to win by touching the device.

All Might’s voice called the match with his usual booming enthusiasm, but Kaia couldn’t relax. Even as the class around her cheered for Midoriya and Uraraka’s teamwork, her eyes stayed fixed on Katsuki, who stood in the smoke, fists clenched, head lowered, furious and humiliated.

The match was over — but Kaia knew the real storm between those two was just getting started.

*****

As the final bell echoed through the U.A. halls, most students packed up and headed home, still buzzing about the day’s intense training matches — but Kaia's feet carried her somewhere else.

She walked quietly through the bright, sterile halls of the medical wing, her boots making soft taps against the floor. When she reached Recovery Girl’s room, the door was cracked open slightly. Peeking inside, Kaia saw Izuku sitting upright on the bed, his arm wrapped neatly but no longer swollen or twisted thanks to Recovery Girl’s healing quirk.

He looked a little worn, like the adrenaline had finally left his system, but when he spotted Kaia in the doorway, his face lit up with that familiar shy smile.

“Hey, Kaia,” he greeted, voice still a little soft.

Kaia stepped in, closing the door behind her with a gentle click. She walked to the side of his bed, hands stuffed in the pockets of her uniform jacket.

“You scared me today, you know,” she said lightly, but her tone held real concern. “That was reckless, even for you.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah... I kinda figured you'd say that.”

Kaia’s gaze softened, sitting on the edge of the chair next to him. “I mean it, Izuku. I’m happy for you. I’m glad you have a quirk now — I know how much this meant to you.” She paused, looking at his bandaged arm. “But you can’t keep doing that to yourself. You won the match, but at what cost?”

Izuku looked down at his lap, fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Kacchan wasn’t going easy on me.”

Kaia let out a quiet sigh and leaned back slightly. “I know,” she murmured. “I felt it from the observation deck — every single blast. He was fighting like he was trying to settle an old score, not pass a class.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of the day's emotions still lingering in the air.

“But” Kaia added, giving him a soft nudge on the shoulder, “you still held your ground. You’ve come a long way, Izuku.”

Izuku glanced at her, and there was a quiet gratitude in his eyes — one that words couldn’t quite express. Kaia understood without him needing to say anything.

As Recovery Girl returned to check his chart, Kaia stood up from her chair.

“Get some rest, okay? Tomorrow’s another day.” She offered a small, reassuring smile. “And try not to break anything else, yeah?”

Izuku chuckled under his breath and nodded. “I’ll try.”

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the U.A. campus in warm orange light as Kaia and Izuku strolled side by side out of the medical wing. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward — just the kind of comfortable silence that came after a long, exhausting day. Izuku’s arm was sore but healed, and Kaia was glad to see some color back in his face.

As they pushed through the front doors, a small crowd of students had gathered near the front gate, their chatter buzzing with excitement.

“Wonder who that is,” Izuku muttered, standing on his toes to see over the heads.

But Kaia didn’t need to wonder. The second her seismic sense picked up the calm, steady rhythm of his heartbeat — a beat she’d known her entire life — she smiled.

“It’s just my dad,” she said casually, hands sliding into her pockets.

Izuku blinked, glancing at her before following her gaze through the crowd. Sure enough, standing by a sleek black car, dressed sharp but relaxed, was Zaire Mikage. Even without knowing who he was, the way he carried himself made it clear he wasn’t just anyone. The students whispered among themselves, some recognizing him as the low-key but highly respected pro hero, Bedrock.

Zaire caught sight of them before Kaia even waved. His lips curled into a proud grin as he stepped forward, brushing off the crowd’s curiosity like it was nothing. As the two teens approached, Zaire stretched out his hand toward Izuku.

“Well, if it isn’t my nephew,” Zaire greeted, his voice smooth and warm with familiarity.

Izuku, still not entirely used to the nickname but too polite to correct him, smiled and took the handshake. Zaire’s grip was firm but kind, pulling Izuku into a half hug before releasing him.

“You’ve had a hell of a day, huh?” Zaire added, giving Izuku a knowing look — clearly Kaia had already told him the highlights.

Kaia smirked at the easy exchange, her hands still tucked away as she stood beside them.

“Yeah, he held his own,” she said lightly, nudging Izuku’s shoulder. “Didn’t even cry once.”

Zaire chuckled at that, ruffling Kaia’s hair before gesturing toward the car. “Come on, kiddo, your mom’s got dinner waiting. You too, Izuku — need a ride?”

Izuku hesitated, politely shaking his head. “Thanks, but my mom’s waiting for me.”

Zaire nodded with understanding, giving him another firm pat on the shoulder. “You did good today, kid. Take care of that arm.”

Kaia gave Izuku one last look, eyes warm but teasing. “See you tomorrow, nerd.”

With that, she slid into the passenger seat while Zaire climbed behind the wheel. As the car pulled away, Kaia glanced out the window, watching Izuku shrink into the distance, hands tucked into his pockets as he made his own way home.

Chapter Text

The sun blazed down on U.A. as the students of Class 1A piled onto the bus, their excitement palpable in the warm afternoon air. The rhythmic hum of the engine was drowned out by the laughter and chatter that filled the bus. Everyone was dressed in their hero costumes, ready for a field trip to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint — a state-of-the-art training facility used to test and refine hero skills in real-world scenarios.

Kaia sat near the middle of the bus, her legs stretched out as she leaned back in her seat. The familiar weight of her upgraded suit felt comfortable against her skin. She glanced over at Izuku, who was sitting across from her, his face full of that same eager determination she’d seen ever since he entered U.A. He seemed to be running through possible scenarios in his mind.

“You look like you’re about to analyze the whole facility already,” Kaia teased, nudging him lightly.

Izuku blinked and laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m just thinking about what we might face in there today,” he admitted. “I want to be ready.”

Kaia smiled softly at that, her seismic sense picking up the flutter of his nervous energy. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

Momo, sitting beside her, smiled at the exchange. "If anyone can pull off a surprise tactic, it's you two." She winked at them. "We’re going to be heroes soon, huh?"

Kaia chuckled and nodded. "It’s still a bit unreal. I mean, here we are in our costumes, heading to a facility like this… it almost feels like something out of a movie.”

“That’s the fun of it,” Ashido said from the seat in front of them, turning around with a grin. "The real hero stuff starts now!"

Behind her, Kaminari and Kirishima were having an animated conversation about how they could use their quirks to break into the simulation rooms, with Sero adding his two cents about using tape to escape a trap. Kaia couldn’t help but shake her head at their antics.

“Maybe we should team up with them,” Kaia remarked dryly to Momo, “and keep an eye on all the ‘strategies’ they’ll be cooking up.”

“I’m definitely going to need a plan for when they go off the rails,” Momo responded with a smirk, her eyes catching Kaia’s with a knowing look.

Not far from them, Katsuki was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in annoyance. He had a hard time shaking off the sour mood that followed him around, even in moments like this. But Kaia knew that underneath it all, he was just as eager as the rest of them. His eyes flickered to the front of the bus where Aizawa was sitting, as if waiting for the next orders to be given.

Todoroki sat across from Bakugo, his expression as neutral as ever, his gaze settled out the window, but there was an air of determination surrounding him. He hadn’t said much since they boarded, but Kaia could sense his quiet confidence.

After what felt like no time at all, the bus pulled up to the training facility — an imposing structure that stood like a titan against the bright blue sky. It was unlike anything they had seen before, with its sleek, futuristic design and its stark metallic finish.

The bus doors opened with a hiss, and the students began to file out, stretching their limbs and adjusting their gear. Aizawa stood at the front of the group, his usual nonchalant attitude hiding the excitement that Kaia was sure was there.

“Listen up,” Aizawa barked, getting their attention. “Today, we’re going to push your limits. The simulations you’ll face here are meant to test everything — strategy, teamwork, endurance, and the application of your quirks in real-life situations. There are no easy answers, and there will be no hand-holding. Do your best and don’t let your guard down.”

As they made their way to the entrance of the facility, Kaia glanced around at her classmates, each of them buzzing with energy and nerves. She could feel her own heartbeat quicken in anticipation, but she’d learned to ground herself. This wasn’t just another test. This was a chance to prove that they were ready — to prove to themselves and the world that they could handle the pressure of being heroes.

“Alright,” Aizawa called as he led the way inside. “Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

As Class 1A stepped into the spacious lobby of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, their eyes were immediately drawn to the large screens displaying real-time scenarios and simulations. The room buzzed with anticipation as students exchanged excited whispers, but their chatter died down when a figure stepped forward from behind one of the towering columns.

Thirteen, the Space Hero, stood confidently in front of them, her quirky space-themed suit and helmet glinting under the overhead lights. Her calm demeanor contrasted with the lively energy of the class, but there was no mistaking the authority in her voice when she addressed them.

“Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, Class 1A,” Thirteen greeted them with a warm smile, her voice smooth and welcoming. “I’ll be guiding you through today’s exercises. We’re going to put you through a variety of simulated rescue operations, each one designed to test your adaptability, your strategic thinking, and how you apply your quirks in emergency situations.”

The students stood a little straighter, their focus narrowing as they listened intently. Kaia could already feel the familiar hum of excitement in the air, mingled with the slight tension that came with knowing this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

“These simulations will vary in terrain and difficulty,” Thirteen continued, her hands gesturing toward the screens, which flickered to life, displaying images of different environments — a cityscape, a mountain range, a flooded area, and a collapsed building. “We’ve prepared different rescue scenarios for you to navigate, and each one will test not only your strength and skill but also your ability to work with a team. Some of you will need to rescue victims, while others might be tasked with handling dangerous situations or stopping hazards from spreading.”

Kaia exchanged a glance with Momo, both of them feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. This wasn’t just about fighting villains or using quirks for combat; this was about saving lives, which was a whole other level of responsibility.

“We’ve designed these scenarios to be as realistic as possible,” Thirteen said, her voice unwavering. “Your objective is to successfully carry out the rescue operation with minimal damage. That means you’ll need to think on your feet and rely on your teammates.”

Bakugo, never one to shy away from voicing his opinion, crossed his arms and muttered, “Sounds like a bunch of fluff. Just tell us what to do, and we’ll handle it.”

Thirteen’s eyes flickered to him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not about brute force, Bakugo. In fact, some of these scenarios will require you to think carefully before acting. You’ll need to find a balance between using your quirks and making sure that you don’t make the situation worse.”

The entire class shifted at this, the gravity of her words sinking in. It was one thing to use their quirks in training, but this was different. Lives would be on the line, and how they approached each situation could mean the difference between success and failure.

“Each of you will be paired up with a teammate,” Thirteen continued, “and you'll be placed in a simulation room with different terrains. Depending on the scenario, one of you may need to play the hero, while the other might take on a support or villain role. We’ll be observing and providing feedback as we go along.”

Kaia’s mind began to race as she thought about the different terrains they’d seen on the screen. She already had a few ideas for how to approach the scenarios, but she knew she couldn’t rely on just herself. Working as a team would be crucial, and she was curious to see how everyone would handle the pressure.

“Before we get started, I want you to understand that safety is our top priority,” Thirteen said, her tone serious now. “If at any point you feel overwhelmed or you’re unsure of a situation, don’t hesitate to call for a time-out. We’ll stop the simulation immediately.”

The students nodded, and Kaia felt the familiar surge of determination that came with being thrown into a new challenge. Her seismic sense flared with anticipation, picking up on the vibrations of the building around her — the ground under her feet, the steady hum of machinery, and the subtle shifts in the air as the simulation equipment powered up.

Thirteen smiled, seemingly sensing the tension in the room. “Alright then, Class 1A. Time to prove you’re ready for the real thing. Let’s get started.”

With that, Thirteen gestured for the class to follow her, leading them toward a set of doors that would take them to their first rescue scenario. As the group followed, Kaia felt her heart race, her thoughts sharpening. She couldn’t wait to see how this field trip would unfold, but one thing was for sure — it was going to be a day of intense training that would push them all to their limits.

However, Kaia’s seismic sense flared in alarm, her heartbeat picking up as she felt the vibrations ripple through the ground beneath her feet. It wasn’t the typical earthquake-like tremors she was used to — it was more like something was intruding, pushing through the very space of the room. Something… wrong.

Her head snapped towards the center of the lobby, where a dark portal began to tear open the air itself. The lights above flickered ominously, casting long shadows across the faces of her classmates. A cold feeling crept up her spine as the space around them seemed to thicken with tension.

The students instinctively backed up, their eyes wide in confusion and fear. Before anyone could react, a figure stepped through the shadowy portal. A man cloaked in darkness, with hands covering his face — the distinct, unnerving presence of someone dangerous.

Kaia’s eyes widened. This wasn’t part of the simulation. Her seismic sense registered the immense power radiating from the figure, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Mr. Aizawa!” Kaia shouted, her voice cutting through the stillness. She knew the teacher could assess the situation better than anyone, but before anyone could get another word out, the lights flickered again, this time plunging the entire lobby into a temporary, disorienting darkness.

Then, just as quickly, the lights came back on — but something was different. The man was standing there now, fully in view, the swirling shadows of the portal dissipating behind him like smoke. His hands, which were covering his face, were marked with strange symbols, almost like they were meant to hide something far more unsettling beneath.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and Kaia could feel her breath quickening, her mind racing for answers. Who was this? How did he know about their location?

Mr. Aizawa was quick to react, his expression sharp and focused, but Kaia could see the caution in his eyes as he assessed the stranger. He was tense, ready for action, but his stance was controlled, his posture waiting for something — an opening, perhaps, or an explanation.

The figure’s voice was deep, yet chillingly calm. “I’ve come for you all,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the students, lingering for a moment longer on Kaia. The words hung in the air like a threat, heavy and menacing.

Kaia’s heart raced in her chest. She didn’t recognize this man, but the way he spoke made it clear that he wasn’t just some random intruder. He had purpose, and whatever that purpose was, it involved them.

Aizawa stepped forward, his usual unflappable demeanor slipping into a serious intensity. “Stay back,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving the mysterious man. “This isn’t your place, and whatever you’re here for, it ends now.”

The man tilted his head, his hands still obscuring his face. “I’m not here to play games, Aizawa. I’ve got business with the students here.”

The class collectively shifted uneasily, some of the students visibly on edge. Kaia's heart hammered in her chest, the vibrations from her surroundings now almost overwhelming. Her eyes locked on the stranger, trying to read him, trying to figure out what he wanted — but it was like trying to grasp smoke.

“This is a training facility, not a battleground,” Aizawa continued, his voice hardening. “If you’re looking to fight, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

The man’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, though it was impossible to tell what emotions lay beneath the mask of his hands. “I don’t plan on fighting. Not yet.” His voice dropped lower, an eerie quiet settling over him. “But I’ll make sure you all remember me. And I’ll make sure that one of you… learns a lesson today.”

Kaia’s mind raced. Was this a villain? Did he know about her? And more importantly, what did he mean by "learning a lesson"?

Before she could react, the stranger raised his hand — the one not covering his face — and a strange, dark energy pulsed around him. It wasn’t like anything she’d felt before. It wasn’t quirk-based, not in the usual sense. This felt darker, almost like the very air around them had thickened and was pressing in on them.

The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, a warning before everything went into chaos.

“Get back!” Aizawa barked, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the threat. “Everyone, stay on alert!”

Kaia’s seismic sense kicked into overdrive as she felt the energy ripple around them. She could sense the shift — he was about to make his move. She braced herself, staying low and trying to steady her nerves. This wasn’t just some random attack — this man was dangerous.

"Time to show you what happens when you challenge the wrong people," she muttered under her breath, preparing herself for whatever came next.

The class was about to face something they hadn’t trained for. A villain unlike any they’d encountered before — and Kaia had a bad feeling that the only thing they could do was fight.

The situation escalated faster than anyone could have anticipated. Kaia’s heart pounded as the first portal opened above the students, a dark and eerie presence spilling out of it. The new figure that appeared — a shadowy figure with a confident, almost too polite demeanor — calmly introduced himself as Kurogiri. Kaia’s seismic sense flared. She could feel the power emanating from him, a force unlike any villain she’d encountered before.

Thirteen, without hesitation, positioned herself between Kurogiri and the students, her body tense and her posture ready for action. "Stay back," she called out to the class. "I’ll handle this." Her quirk activated instantly, a powerful suction force gathering around her. Kaia watched with a mix of admiration and concern as Thirteen tried to pull Kurogiri in, to contain him. But Kurogiri didn’t flinch — instead, a new portal opened, and Kaia felt her stomach drop as Thirteen’s quirk started to backfire. The suction force reversed and began pulling Thirteen toward the portal.

“No!” Kaia shouted, her instincts kicking in. Her seismic sense told her the shift in the air was only the beginning. Thirteen was being hurt — badly. She could feel the strain in her every nerve, the vibrations from the struggle. Kaia’s gaze snapped to the villain. "Stop!"

But it was too late. Thirteen’s quirk couldn’t overpower Kurogiri’s portal manipulation. Kaia could feel the pull, the way the ground trembled as Thirteen was sucked into the vortex. She grimaced, watching as the hero staggered, clearly injured by the backlash of her own power.

“Thirteen!” Kaia cried out, but her voice was drowned out by the growing chaos. More portals opened, and from each one, low-level villains began to emerge — some small-time thugs, others with quirks Kaia couldn’t immediately identify.

Bakugo and Kirishima reacted first, charging toward the villains with an energy that only they could manage. Kaia barely had time to process what happened next before she felt the ground beneath her feet shift violently. Kirishima and Bakugo were both thrown into one of the portals by a villain who’d charged straight at them. The ground trembled again as more and more portals opened, and the students began to vanish one by one.

“Everyone, stay close!” Aizawa shouted, but his voice was already overwhelmed by the disorienting chaos. Kaia’s eyes widened as the ground itself seemed to disintegrate into nothingness, a chaotic whirl of portals opening in every direction. One by one, her classmates were sucked into the void.

The sensation of being pulled through the darkness came suddenly — the world spinning into a dizzying, disorienting whirl. Kaia's seismic sense couldn't make sense of the shifting landscape, but she could tell the ground below her was far from solid. She braced herself instinctively, but there was no ground, no stability. All she felt was a gut-wrenching weightlessness before being deposited with a jarring crash.

Her senses snapped back into focus. She was lying on the cracked and broken ground of the Earthquake Zone of the USJ. The aftermath of the villain’s attack.

Kaia quickly scrambled to her feet, heart pounding in her chest. The USJ was a disaster zone — buildings and walls crumbled around her. And she wasn’t alone. Kirishima and Bakugo were sprawled nearby, groaning in pain but alive.

“Ugh, what the hell was that?!” Bakugo growled, barely pushing himself up from the rubble, his voice as fiery as ever despite the disorienting circumstances.

“Are you okay?” Kaia asked, kneeling down next to him to make sure he hadn’t been seriously hurt. He shot her a glare, as always, but there was a brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes before his usual pride closed it off.

“I’m fine!” Bakugo snapped, pushing her away with a grunt. "We need to get out of here. This isn’t just some stupid drill anymore."

Kaia nodded, her mind racing as she looked around. The quake zone was in chaos, and the rest of Class 1-A wasn’t here — not yet at least. But her seismic sense told her that the vibrations from the ground were telling a story of their own. There were more villains here, and likely more heroes would be coming too. But the question was: would they be able to get here in time?

“We can’t wait for backup. We need to find the others.” Kaia’s voice was steady, but inside, she could feel the unease creeping up on her. This wasn’t a normal training exercise anymore. It was a real battle, and they were in the middle of it.

Bakugo clenched his fists, a fire igniting in his eyes. “You’re damn right,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We’re not letting them get away with this."

Kirishima, who had been quiet up until then, finally pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Let’s get to it, then! We’ve got teammates to save!” he said, his usual cheerful energy pushing through the confusion and uncertainty.

Kaia nodded, readying herself. She had to rely on her training, and her quirk, to get through this. Her seismic sense would be her guide in this rubble-filled labyrinth.

“I’m right behind you,” Kaia said, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Let’s move out."

They weren’t sure where to go first, but the sound of footsteps — the unmistakable footsteps of more villains — could already be heard in the distance. The battle had only just begun.

*****

As the dust settled around them, the last of the attacking villains groaned from beneath slabs of stone and jagged rock — all neatly pinned by Kaia’s precise earthbending, her seismic sense giving her the upper hand before they even got close. Bakugo’s palms still crackled faintly with leftover sparks, the lingering heat of his explosions fading as he adjusted his gloves, while Kirishima stretched his shoulders, brushing bits of debris off his hardened arms with a grin.

“Man, that was easy,” Kirishima huffed, glancing around for more threats. “Not that I’m complaining, but... that can’t be all, right?”

Bakugo scoffed, sharp red eyes narrowing as he scanned the ruined zone. “Tch. They wouldn’t send weaklings like that unless they were trying to stall us.”

Kaia stood still for a moment, her palm pressed lightly to the fractured ground beneath her feet, her seismic sense reaching out like invisible threads. She could still feel the distant tremors of combat across the USJ — scattered groups fighting for survival — but something about their placement didn’t sit right.

“I don’t think they expected students to be here,” she said finally, pulling her hand away from the earth and standing tall. Her voice was steady, but edged with suspicion. “If they knew I was here, especially in this zone, they wouldn’t have sent me here. Not with this terrain.”

Bakugo turned toward her, one brow lifting slightly at her reasoning. “What’re you sayin’?”

Kaia’s gaze shifted across the cracked remains of the zone, her mind piecing it together. “It’s like we were scattered randomly... not tactically. Like whatever or whoever was in charge wanted us out of the way — but didn’t know where we’d land. If they’d planned this right, I wouldn’t have been dropped in the earthquake zone at all.”

Kirishima tilted his head, frowning. “Yeah, cause you’ve got the home-field advantage here, right? Your quirk makes this your battlefield.”

Kaia nodded. “Exactly. If this was really a trap for the teachers — or even for us — someone either messed up or didn’t have all the information.”

Bakugo’s expression hardened, lips pulling into a sharp frown. “So they’re either idiots or they’ve got a bigger plan. Either way, we’re not sittin’ around waitin’ to find out.”

Kaia’s seismic sense pulsed again, a subtle shift on the far side of the zone — heavy, slow footsteps unlike the scattered thugs from before.

Her eyes narrowed. “Something’s coming.”

Kirishima tensed, his usual easy grin fading into something more serious as he shifted his stance, hardening his skin on instinct.

Bakugo cracked his knuckles, eager for a fight. “Good. Let ‘em come.”

Kaia didn’t reply, her focus sharp and calm, sensing the approach — this time, it wasn’t a random villain. The ground whispered something new, and whatever was heading their way felt deliberate. Calculated.

And dangerous.

“Stay sharp,” she warned quietly, flexing her fingers, ready to bend the earth again at a moment’s notice. "I don't think this one's like the others."

*****

The battle had left the three of them bruised and winded — but standing.

The villain had been stronger, smarter, and more relentless than the first wave — a brute with a quirk that hardened his skin to stone, giving Kirishima a real challenge and forcing Bakugo to fight with more strategy than sheer firepower. Kaia had held her own, sending slabs of rock crashing into the villain to throw him off balance while the boys worked on the attack, but the fight hadn’t been without its cost.

She stood there now, panting slightly, the sharp sting of pain radiating from a deep scratch cutting across the tip of her eyebrow, dangerously close to her eye. Blood dripped slowly from the wound, but she barely flinched — wiping it away with the back of her glove.

Kirishima noticed first, his voice edged with concern. “Kaia — your eye.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, a little too quickly, pressing her palm to the cut to stop the bleeding. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Bakugo, for once, didn’t make a snide comment. His gaze flicked toward the direction Kaia was facing, catching the faint tension in her stance.

“What is it?”

Kaia’s focus wasn’t on the injury. She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowed, her seismic sense reaching outward beyond the broken stone and rubble, tracing the faint, light-footed vibrations of someone moving fast — away from the USJ.

“It’s Iida,” she said, voice low but steady. “He’s running. Fast. Must’ve gotten out.”

Both boys exhaled a sharp breath of relief, a momentary weight lifted off their chests.

“At least the cavalry’s comin’,” Bakugo muttered, flexing his fingers. “But this mess ain’t over.”

Kaia nodded once. The vibrations around them still told the story — fights were still happening across the USJ, their classmates scattered, some of them in real danger. Their job wasn’t done yet.

“We need to move,” she said, glancing at the boys. “If they sent help, we buy them time. Let’s find the others.”

Kirishima threw her a determined nod, already moving to follow her lead. “You got it. Let’s stick together.”

The three of them moved through the cracked terrain, careful but quick, Kaia taking the front. Her seismic sense guided them, picking up the scattered heartbeats of their classmates and the heavy, predatory strides of villains still hunting through the chaos.

Her cut stung, but the adrenaline pushed it to the back of her mind. Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding the others — and holding the line until help arrived.

The group traveled through the rocky terrain. Suddenly Kaia skidded to a stop, boots grinding against the broken concrete as her chest tightened — not from the running, but from the wave of dread rolling through her seismic sense.

She felt it.
Something massive had stepped through the portal. Heavier than anything else before. Its footsteps were slow but deliberate, each one sinking deep into the earth. The sheer force behind its movement was enough to make her stomach turn.

“Something’s wrong,” she breathed out, sharp and uneasy.

Bakugo and Kirishima, who had come to an abrupt halt behind her, both looked at her, reading the shift in her tone.

“What now?” Bakugo scowled, but the way his hands curled into ready fists said he trusted her senses.

Kaia kept scanning the vibrations, the sheer size of whatever had arrived setting off every warning in her head. “Something big came through the portal. Strong. Heavy. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not like the rest of them.” She glanced toward the clearing. “We have to find the others — now.”

Without wasting another second, the trio took off again, feet pounding against the crumbled terrain, moving as fast as they could manage without burning out.

But before they could reach the open clearing, Kaia’s seismic sense flared again — sharp and close.

“Stop!” she shouted, throwing an arm out across Bakugo and Kirishima’s chests just in time.

From behind a slab of crumbling stone, another group of villains emerged, grinning like hyenas who’d caught their prey mid-sprint. Four of them, all different sizes and quirks, but each radiating the same violent intent.

One villain, hands crackling with what looked like acidic energy, sneered. “Looks like the kids haven’t learned to stay put.”

Kaia stepped forward, dropping into a grounded stance, hands hovering near the rubble at her sides.

“They’re not wasting time,” Kirishima muttered, hardening his arms.

“Tch. Good,” Bakugo growled, already pulling at the pins of his gauntlets, sweat turning into sparks. “I was gettin’ bored.”

Kaia, blood still drying along her face from her earlier wound, smirked slightly despite the tension. “Watch each other’s backs.”

The villains lunged, and the three moved like clockwork — Bakugo blasting forward with an explosion, Kirishima intercepting the brute headed for Kaia, and Kaia herself using the broken earth to create barriers and launch chunks of cement like battering rams at their attackers.

Each villain fought with wild abandon, but Kaia, Bakugo, and Kirishima had learned how to sync — they covered each other, they trusted each other, and they fought with one goal: get to the others.

Even as she ducked a blast of acidic energy and countered with a stone spike to disarm her opponent, Kaia could still feel it.

The trio burst through the last line of broken concrete and crumbled walls, finally making it to the clearing. The sight before them made Kaia’s stomach twist.

Standing in the center of the open space was the creature — the one Kaia had felt rumbling through the earth, the one her instincts had warned her about. It was enormous, towering over everything with muscle-bound limbs stitched together like some stitched-up nightmare. Its sheer presence made the air feel heavier.

And in front of the beast, barely standing, was Aizawa.

His capture weapon hung in tatters at his side, his face bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen shut as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. His body was battered but still standing between the monster and the students, refusing to back down.

Kaia’s eyes darted past him and spotted Midoriya, Tsuyu, and Mineta crouched low behind a jagged slab of concrete. Their faces were pale, their bodies tense, clearly trying to stay hidden, but from the look in Midoriya’s wide eyes, they’d seen everything.

A slow, almost amused voice broke through the silence.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The trio turned their attention to the source. A man emerged from the shadows, hands pressed lazily into the pockets of his dark hoodie, his pale, decaying hands twitching ever so slightly — one of them resting ominously on the side of his neck.

Shigaraki.

His red eyes gleamed behind the hand that covered most of his face as his head tilted in a casual, almost childlike manner.

He mused, voice dry and detached, “You arrived just in time to meet my Nomu.”

He gestured lazily toward the hulking beast behind Aizawa, like he was showing off a prize.

Kaia’s boots slid slightly against the cracked earth as she stomped down with full force, the ground around the monstrous creature groaning and splitting open like a wound. The Nomu — that towering beast of muscle and stitches — sank waist-deep into the dirt before it could fully charge toward them.

Its claws thrashed wildly, struggling against the earth gripping its lower half like a vice. Kaia clenched her fists, tightening the rock around its limbs and raising jagged slabs of stone up around its chest and neck, locking it in place.

But the Nomu didn’t even flinch.

It growled, muscles bulging and straining against the stone prison, chunks of rock already beginning to crack and shift under its raw strength. Kaia grit her teeth, sweat beading on her brow as she forced the earth to hold. She could feel it — this thing wasn’t like the others. Every bit of strength she used, the Nomu answered back with twice as much.

Shigaraki tilted his head, those pale, decaying fingers twitching with a childlike sense of delight.

"Smart girl," he purred. “You figured it out, huh? We’re not here for you kids.” His voice was calm but underlined with malice. “We came for All Might.”

Bakugo stepped forward, smoke curling from his palms, glaring daggers at the villain. "Tch, so that’s it. You were after the top dog."

Kirishima stood just slightly in front of Kaia, bracing in case the Nomu broke free. “This thing was made to kill him... that’s insane.”

Shigaraki’s gaze flicked lazily toward Aizawa, slumped and barely conscious on the ground, blood trailing from his brow.

“You all should’ve stayed out of the way,” Shigaraki muttered, tone darkening. “But since you didn’t…”

The Nomu’s muscles bunched, the ground shuddering under its power. Kaia’s hold tightened as much as it could, but even the earth around the creature was beginning to buckle.

Midoriya, hidden with Tsuyu and Mineta, clenched his fists, barely breathing as he watched the Nomu thrash. His eyes flicked to Kaia — even through the strain and the fresh scratch on her face, she looked steady, unyielding.

Kaia, feeling the cracks spread through her earth-made restraint, glanced sideways to Bakugo and Kirishima. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

Bakugo stepped forward, palms sparking violently. “Then we’ll hit it together.”

The Nomu let out a deafening roar, one final surge of strength splintering the stone around its chest.

Kaia shouted, releasing the hold at the last second to avoid the back shock, stumbling slightly as the beast burst free.

But in that heartbeat of freedom, Bakugo launched forward with an explosion, Kirishima hardening his body and charging to flank, and Kaia slammed her hands to the ground once more, lifting sharp pillars of stone to slow the monster’s advance.

All three of them knew the odds — this thing wasn’t built for them.

But they were going to fight anyway.

Because All Might wasn’t here yet.

And their teacher, their classmates, their lives — were still on the line.

Chapter Text

Before the Nomu could lunge at them, the ground beneath Kaia trembled again — but this time, it wasn’t from her. A sudden, thunderous crash shook the entire facility as part of the ceiling caved in, sending chunks of concrete and steel raining down.

A blur of blue and red shot through the debris, a fist colliding square with the Nomu’s jaw. The force of the blow sent the beast hurtling across the clearing, smashing through the broken rubble like a wrecking ball.

The dust settled, and standing in the crater, tall and unwavering, was All Might.

"Fear not," his voice boomed, "for I am here!"

Relief washed over Kaia like a wave, but the moment her adrenaline began to dip, the sharp ache of exhaustion set in. Her legs trembled, her joints locking up, the aftershock of pushing her quirk to its limit. She stumbled, catching herself on a piece of broken cement.

Bakugo’s sharp gaze flicked toward her, immediately noticing. “Oi, dumbass — you’re gonna pass out like that.”

Without waiting for her to argue, he moved to her side, looping her arm over his shoulder before signaling to Kirishima.

“Kirishima — she’s spent. You carry her.”

“Got it!” Kirishima rushed over without question, crouching down slightly so Kaia could lean onto his back. “I’ve got you, Kaia.”

As Kirishima secured her, Bakugo stood close by, glancing back at the battlefield where All Might now squared up against the Nomu, muscles tensed and ready for the clash. The atmosphere was heavier than ever, the real fight about to begin.

The air seemed to freeze as Shigaraki’s voice slithered through the destroyed clearing, casual and cold. He raised a pale, scarred hand toward the monstrous creature beside him, his fingers flexing like a puppeteer showing off his finest string.

“This Nomu,” he crooned, “was designed to kill All Might. Shock Absorption. Regeneration. Your punches are useless.”

But All Might didn’t flinch.

His shadow stretched long across the broken floor, the last rays of afternoon sun catching on the faint cracks in his armour of muscle. His jaw tightened, blue eyes hardening beneath his furrowed brow. Despite the blood on the ground, the ruined state of the facility, and the fear weighing down every student’s chest — All Might straightened to his full height, his voice deep and booming with a defiant kind of hope.

“You say it has Shock Absorption…” He clenched his fists tight, muscles rippling under his uniform, “But that doesn't mean it has Shock Nullification!”

Before the Nomu could move, All Might launched forward, closing the gap in an instant with speed that left a wind tunnel in his wake. His first punch slammed into the creature’s chest with an earth-shaking crack, forcing its massive frame backward.

But All Might didn’t stop.

Like a relentless storm, he unleashed a barrage of punches — one after the other, faster than any eye could track. The Nomu barely had time to twitch before the next blow rattled through its bones. Each hit reverberated through the air, the sound sharp and deafening like cannon fire. His knuckles split and his muscles screamed, but he drove forward, pushing his body well beyond the limits anyone thought possible.

From behind the shattered remains of the observation deck, Kaia clung tightly to Kirishima’s shoulder as he carried her away from the danger, her legs weak and joints stiff from the strain of overusing her quirk. Sweat clung to her brow, her chest rising and falling with laboured breaths, but her gaze never left the battlefield.

She could feel it — even through her seismic sense, All Might’s power thrummed like a drumbeat in the earth itself. Pure will. Pure strength.

Bakugo stood nearby, fists still clenched at his sides, his sharp crimson eyes wide, not in anger — but in something rare: admiration. Even he couldn’t deny it. This was what power looked like when wielded by a true hero.

All Might roared with one final, devastating punch, his whole body twisting into the blow.

“GO BEYOND — PLUS ULTRA!!”

The Nomu’s body shot backward, the sheer force sending it hurtling through the facility’s outer wall with a deafening crash. Concrete and steel crumbled around the hole it left behind as the beast vanished into the sky, disappearing beyond the treetops like a dark star.

Silence followed.

Dust drifted lazily through the air, the ground still trembling from the aftershock. All Might stood in the epicenter of the destruction, steam rising from his skin, his chest heaving in shallow, exhausted breaths. The time limit he fought against had long since passed, but through sheer determination through the need to protect his students he had endured, stood tall but visibly worn. His strength had been pushed beyond its limits — and Shigaraki saw his chance.

The young villain’s lips twisted into a crooked, unsettling grin as he stepped forward, his gloved hand flexing — the decaying power it held twitching for release.

“You’ve worn yourself out, Symbol of Peace,” Shigaraki rasped, voice low but laced with glee. “All it takes is one touch... and I’ll turn you to dust.”

His hand inched closer, each step slow and deliberate, like a predator savouring the kill.

But before Shigaraki could strike, a sharp, clear voice echoed through the ruined facility — filled with urgency and hope.

“ALL MIGHT — GET BACK!”

Iida burst through the open entrance, his engines roaring at full throttle, the glass doors shattering as he skidded to a stop, a team of Pro Heroes flooding in behind him like a tidal wave of reinforcements. The cavalry had arrived.

Among them was a towering figure dressed in familiar deep gray and gold armour, his heavy boots making the ground quake slightly with each step. Kaia’s heart leapt the second she felt the shift in the earth through her seismic sense — before she even saw him.

Her father.

Bedrock.

His stern eyes swept across the battlefield, locking onto his daughter for a fraction of a second — the flash of concern flickering behind his usual stoic expression before it shifted back to focused professionalism. He’d come the moment Present Mic had sounded the alarm, barreling through the school with the other pros to get to the USJ as fast as possible.

Without hesitation, Bedrock advanced, his massive frame placing itself between Shigaraki and the weakened All Might. The ground beneath his feet subtly shifted as his quirk activated, layers of stone hardening around his arms like gauntlets — living armour ready for battle.

Shigaraki scowled, recognizing the new arrival. His opportunity was gone.

Pro Heroes scattered across the facility, swiftly moving to subdue the remaining villains. Some villains tried to resist, but the pros — including heroes like Midnight, Cementoss, Snipe, and Ectoplasm — had them outclassed, wrapping up the stragglers with precision and ease.

Kaia let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline finally ebbing from her system as Bakugo and Kirishima stood with her, still keeping their guard up despite the reinforcements. She knew her father wouldn’t leave until every last villain was handled, but for the first time since the attack began... she allowed herself to feel safe.

All Might straightened, barely holding his form together, offering Iida and the approaching pros a grateful nod.

“You all made it in time... well done.”

Shigaraki hissed under his breath, retreating as Kurogiri’s warped, glimmering portal opened behind him.

“This isn’t over... not even close.”

And just like that, Shigaraki and Kurogiri vanished into the void.

Kaia watched the portal close, her body aching, her heart still hammering, but her mind sharp. She knew this attack was only the beginning.

The Pro Heroes wasted no time.

Cementoss raised sturdy concrete walls to cut off any escape routes, sealing off sections of the USJ while Midnight’s sweet-scented sleep-inducing quirk quickly subdued groups of villains that were still standing. Snipe’s sharp aim and calm, professional orders helped wrangle the more aggressive ones, while Ectoplasm’s clones corralled stragglers like a precision strike team.

Bedrock, his stone-armoured fists clenched, helped shoulder the wounded and secured the last of the villain troublemakers — some already unconscious from the fights with Class 1-A, others frozen in place by fear or fatigue.

“Don’t try anything,” Bedrock warned the group of cornered villains, his voice firm like the earth itself. “It’s over.”

Around the clearing, the air was heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened — broken structures, the smell of dust and scorched air, and the bruised but determined faces of U.A.'s first-year students.

All Might remained standing, his chest still rising and falling heavily, watching his students from afar as the pro heroes finished securing the scene. Kaia, still riding out the ache and exhaustion from overusing her quirk, leaned against Kirishima for balance as the adrenaline slowly faded.

“Looks like it’s really over…” Kirishima mumbled, glancing at Kaia and Bakugo, both of them battered but standing tall.

Kaia’s eyes flicked toward her father — Bedrock offering her the smallest nod from across the clearing, silently checking in, silently proud. The villains were rounded up, the students were safe, and the pros had arrived just in time. Zaire wasted no time rushing towards his daughter.

Her father’s stone-hard hands were gentle as they steadied Kaia, his expression more shaken than he let on. Seeing her like this — drained, joints stiff, her eye bleeding slightly from the gash slicing across her brow — was enough to make his heart sink, though he hid it well behind his usual solid, unmovable front.

“You held up really good, baby girl,” he said quietly, steadying her weight against his side as the medics hurried over, but Kaia barely managed a tired, crooked smile. Her body ached, the kind of ache that reached deep into her bones from overusing her quirk, and now that the rush of battle was gone, her head throbbed in steady, sharp pulses. Still, she stood as tall as her strength allowed.

He turned to Kirishima and Bakugo — the two boys who hadn’t left her side once through the entire ordeal. He reached out to give Kirishima’s shoulder a firm squeeze, nodding in silent gratitude. Then, without missing a beat, his large, calloused hand ruffled Bakugo’s hair in that rough but familiar way.

“Thanks for having her back, both of you,” he said, voice low but sincere. His gaze lingered on Bakugo, softening for a rare second. “And you — good instincts, nephew.”

Bakugo scoffed, face twisting into that usual scowl of his, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, flushed faintly pink with quiet pride. Kirishima gave a sheepish but warm grin, proud of their teamwork even under pressure.

Bedrock then slipped his arm more securely around Kaia and helped ease her toward the medics, who were already waiting with stretchers and first-aid gear. As they walked, her weight pressing more and more into him, he pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb pressing a contact without even glancing. He lifted it to his ear, his voice steady but lower than usual.

“Amara.”

The voice on the other end answered in a heartbeat, breath tight with worry.

“Zaire — is she okay? I heard the alert, but no details.”

“She’s banged up, but standing. She’s a tough one. Just like her mom.” His eyes flicked down to Kaia, who was now half-listening, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. “Took a scratch to the eye, overworked her quirk — medics say she’ll be fine once they patch her up and she gets some rest.”

Amara’s relief poured through the speaker, though it was tangled in lingering worry.

“Thank God... I’ve been pacing the house. I was ready to come down there myself.”

Zaire chuckled, but there was still that tightness in his chest. “You wouldn’t’ve been the only one. She fought smart. She’s got a good crew, too. Bakugo, Kirishima — stuck to her like glue. She’s in good hands.”

Kaia gave the faintest hum, eyes fluttering open. “Tell Mom I’m okay,” she whispered, voice soft but determined.

Bedrock lowered the phone slightly, brushing a thumb against her temple in a rare gesture of fatherly affection. “You heard her.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Amara’s voice came through again, softer this time.

“Bring her home as soon as you can.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching the medics finish patching Kaia’s eye. “I will.”

Once the call ended, Zaire tucked the phone back into his pocket, turning back to his daughter, who was finally resting easier now that the worst had passed. The field around them still hummed with activity — pro heroes securing the last of the villains, students regrouping, faculty accounting for every name — but for Zaire, the world had narrowed down to just Kaia.

“You did me proud, kid,” he said quietly. “But next time, don’t make me get that call. Let me handle the danger, alright?”

Kaia cracked the smallest smile. “Deal, Dad.”

And as the medics prepped her for transport, Zaire walked beside her, hand resting protectively on her shoulder, never letting her out of reach for a second.

*****

The ride home was quiet, the kind of silence that settled when exhaustion weighed heavier than words. Kaia sat in the passenger seat, her head resting against the cool window, a fresh bandage neatly covering the cut near her eye, and her body wrapped in the soft ache of overused muscles. Zaire kept one hand on the wheel, the other close to his phone, as if half-expecting another call from Amara, though none came.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon by the time they pulled into the driveway of their house. The porch light was on, glowing warm and steady like a beacon. The moment the car doors clicked open, the front door swung wide.

Amara was already rushing out, barefoot, barely giving Zaire the chance to steady Kaia as she stepped out of the car. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her instantly, holding her close but mindful of her injuries, hands trembling slightly as they ran over Kaia’s back and shoulders, checking, mother-instinct sharp as ever.

“Baby,” Amara whispered against her daughter’s hair, her voice thick with relief. “You scared me half to death.”

Kaia leaned into the hug, her tiredness melting a little in the safety of her mother’s arms. “I’m okay, Mom,” she whispered back, the words as much for herself as they were for her mother. “I’m really okay.”

Zaire stood off to the side, arms crossed, finally allowing himself to exhale now that his daughter was safe, home, and wrapped up in the one place he trusted most — Amara’s arms.

Amara pulled back slightly, brushing her fingers against Kaia’s cheek, careful around the bandage near her eye. “You’ve got your father’s stubborn streak, you know that?”

Kaia let out a small, breathy laugh. “I’ve got both of yours.”

Her parents exchanged a look, a silent conversation only years of partnership could hold, and Zaire stepped forward, placing a hand on Kaia’s shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he said softly.

The warmth of the house hit as soon as the door closed behind them, the familiar scent of home — lavender and vanilla candles, and Amara’s cooking — filling Kaia’s senses, grounding her. She sank into the couch while her parents hovered around her, Amara disappearing for a moment to grab one of the cozy throw blankets and a cup of ginger tea, and Zaire settling into the armchair close by.

As Amara carefully handed her the mug, Kaia’s eyelids drooped, the adrenaline finally gone, replaced by an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. Her parents stayed close, neither saying much — they didn’t need to. The silence was comforting this time, filled with the quiet reassurance that she was home, safe, and surrounded by the people who loved her most.

Before long, her head rested against her mother’s shoulder, tea forgotten, the steady rhythm of her parents’ voices a soft, distant hum as sleep finally took her.

And in that peaceful moment, Zaire reached over, brushing a hand gently across Kaia’s hair.

“You did good, kid,” he whispered again, almost to himself.
“You did really good.”

*****

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came in the deep hours of the night. Moonlight filtered in through the slits of Kaia’s curtains, painting faint silver lines across her bedroom walls. Slowly, her eyes blinked open. The weight of the day still lingered in her muscles, dull and heavy, but the steady ache in her head was what truly pulled her from sleep.

She shifted slightly under the covers and glanced down, realizing she was still dressed in the comfortable sweats and oversized hoodie her dad had handed her after the medics checked her over earlier. The bandage near her eye tugged slightly as she sat up, and the stiffness in her joints had eased some, but her mind still felt tangled in the chaos of everything that had happened.

The more she tried to close her eyes again, the more her mind refused. Images flashed uninvited behind her lids — the portal splitting open at the USJ, Kurogiri’s chilling voice, the Nomu towering over Aizawa, All Might’s arrival, and the sharp pain of her own limits being pushed too far.

With a quiet sigh, Kaia swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing slowly and padding across the room. She cracked her door open, listening to the comforting hum of the house; her parents’ low voices had long since faded, and only the faint ticking of the living room clock answered her. She moved toward the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her.

The shower’s warm water hit her skin, washing away the lingering stiffness and dirt from the long day. Steam curled around her, and for a while, the world went silent except for the sound of water and her own thoughts.

Her head leaned against the cool tile wall, water running down her back as the weight of the day replayed behind her eyes.

The panic of being separated from her classmates.
The sharp, biting fear when she saw Aizawa barely standing.
The helplessness when her strength began to fade as the Nomu fought back against her earth binding.
The relief when All Might arrived — but the sight of him, pushing beyond his limits, haunted her even more.

Kaia tightened her eyes shut, letting the water run longer, hoping it would quiet the storm inside her chest. But the truth was, this day wasn’t something she could just wash away. She’d faced villains before — training, simulations — but this was real. This wasn’t a classroom, or a test. They could have died.

And even though she’d held her ground, fought alongside Katsuki and Kirishima, and done her best... a small, nagging voice whispered in her mind: Was my best enough?

A soft knock at the bathroom door pulled her from the spiral.

“Kaia?” It was her father’s voice, low but concerned. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She cleared her throat, steadying herself. “Yeah... just needed to clear my head,” she called back, voice a little hoarse but honest.

There was a short pause before Zaire’s voice answered, softer this time. “Alright. Just don’t stay in too long, yeah? You’ve had enough of a rough day.”

Kaia nodded to herself, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay, Dad.”

The sound of his footsteps faded back down the hall, and Kaia let out a slow breath. She finally reached for the faucet, turning the water off and stepping out into the soft glow of the bathroom light.

As she towel-dried her hair and looked into the mirror, her reflection stared back — tired eyes, the edge of the bandage peeking out from her temple, and something else beneath all of it: quiet determination.

Today had shaken her. But it hadn’t broken her.

And it wouldn’t.

The warmth of the shower had long since faded from her skin, but the lingering ache in her muscles stayed. Kaia moved slowly, pulling on a soft T-shirt and sweats, the fabric brushing over the tender scratch on her face making her wince slightly. She sat at the edge of her bed, towel-drying her damp hair, her mind still heavy with the events of the day. The whirlwind of chaos, the villains, Nomu, All Might’s near-limit — it all played on repeat in her head like an unshakable movie reel.

When she finally reached for her phone, the dim glow of the screen blinked to life, cutting through the quiet of her dark room.

At the top, a message from U.A. caught her eye.

UA Notice:
Classes will resume in one week. Counseling services are available for all students, and Recovery Girl will remain on standby for continued treatment.

Kaia stared at the message, letting the weight of it sink in. One week. Just one. It felt like the world had shifted on its axis and no amount of time would ever really make it feel normal again, but at least... at least everyone had made it home. That counted for something.

Her eyes drifted lower to her unread texts — a handful of them, all from her classmates.

Momo’s message was the first:

Momo: Kaia, are you okay? Please let me know if you need anything — I’m so glad you’re safe! Rest well, we were all so worried about you.

Kirishima’s text was a burst of his usual positive energy, trying to lift her spirits:

Kirishima: Yo, Mikage! You were crazy good today! Seriously. I was worried for a sec when you got scratched but you held your ground like a pro. Hit me up if you wanna talk. Rest up, yeah?

Izuku’s was more tentative, careful — his words so full of genuine concern they made her chest tighten.

Izuku: Hey Kaia, I’ve been meaning to text but didn’t wanna overwhelm you. You were incredible today. I’m really glad you’re okay... If you ever wanna talk or if you need anything, I’m here.

And the last one, sitting bluntly at the bottom of the stack, was Katsuki’s.

Katsuki: Don’t die, dumbass.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a tired, genuine smile. She knew him well enough to hear the worry hiding under all that sharp-edged bravado. Typical.

She took a moment to write them all back, thumbs moving slowly, her messages short but sincere:

To Momo: Thanks, I’m okay. I’ll rest. Glad you’re safe too.
To Kirishima: You too. Thanks for having my back today. You’re the real MVP, Red.
To Izuku: I’m okay. Just sore. Thanks for worrying.
To Katsuki: You too, you loud jerk.

She was about to silence her phone for the night when it vibrated again — the name glowing on her screen:

Katsuki.

Kaia stared at it for a second, surprised. He wasn’t the type to call. Not unless it really mattered.

Hesitating for only a moment, she swiped to answer and held the phone to her ear.

“…Hey,” she murmured, her voice soft and tired.

There was a pause on the other end, like even he wasn’t sure what to say at first. Then his voice, a little quieter than normal, broke through.

“You good?”

The question was plain, but it hit deeper than she expected.

“…Yeah,” she answered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Just tired. Sore. You?”

“Same,” he muttered, his voice unusually calm, almost thoughtful. “You didn’t freeze up today. You kept your head.”

It wasn’t much, but coming from Katsuki — it meant everything.

“You either,” she replied, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

There was another pause, the line stretching into a quiet but comforting silence. Neither of them rushed to fill it. Just the sound of each other breathing through the static.

“…Get some sleep, Kaia,” Katsuki said at last, his voice dipping even softer than before. “You’ve got a week. Heal up.”

Her heart softened at the sound of it. His way of saying he cared — his own rough, roundabout way.

“You too, Katsuki.”

The call ended with a soft click, and she lowered the phone onto her nightstand, the screen fading to black. Her room was still and silent again, but the heaviness in her chest had lightened, just a little.

She pulled the blanket up over her, finally allowing her eyes to close. For the first time since the attack, her mind was quiet enough to let sleep come.

And this time, it did.

Chapter Text

The soft light of morning crept through Kaia’s window, the pale gold glow brushing against her tired face. She’d barely slept, even though her body had been desperate for it. The gash near her eye throbbed with every small expression, and the soreness in her limbs from the day before had settled into a dull ache — but it wasn’t what kept her up. Her mind had been running in endless loops. Every moment at USJ. The villains. The Nomu. Aizawa. All Might. Katsuki’s voice on the phone.

It was all still too fresh.

By the time the sun fully broke over the horizon, Kaia was already dressed in a soft hoodie and sweatpants, her hair loosely tied back, padding quietly into the kitchen where the smell of coffee and breakfast filled the air. Her mother, Amara, stood by the stove, humming softly under her breath as she plated some scrambled eggs and toast.

She turned when she heard Kaia’s footsteps, giving her daughter a warm, gentle smile. “You’re up early, sweetheart.”

Kaia nodded, sliding into a chair at the small kitchen table. Her appetite was light, but she knew better than to skip eating after a day like yesterday. Her mom placed the plate in front of her, sitting down across from her with her own coffee mug in hand.

For a while, the two sat in quiet comfort, the only sounds were the occasional clink of cutlery and the soft buzz of the world waking up outside. Amara kept a watchful but patient eye on her daughter — Kaia didn’t need to say much. Mothers always knew when something was eating away at you.

After a few minutes, Kaia finally spoke up, her voice soft but clear.

“Mom…” she started, hesitating as she pushed a piece of toast around her plate. “Can we go to the Midoriyas’ place? I just— I wanna check on Izuku.”

Amara paused, lowering her mug, her expression shifting into something understanding and tender. She’d figured this was coming. After everything Kaia had been through, it was only natural she’d want to see her friends — especially the ones who’d been there with her in the chaos.

“Of course we can,” her mother answered without missing a beat, reaching over to squeeze Kaia’s hand gently. “We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

Kaia gave her a grateful, small smile, feeling some of the weight ease off her chest. The tight coil of worry hadn’t gone away, but at least now it didn’t feel like she was carrying it alone.

After breakfast, Kaia got dressed properly, pulling on a comfortable pair of jeans and one of her soft long-sleeved tops, careful not to irritate the bandage still taped near her eye. Her mom offered to drive, and the whole ride to the Midoriyas’ was quiet, the hum of the engine giving Kaia space to think.

When they pulled up outside the modest apartment building, Amara gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll wait out here,” she said gently. “Take your time.”

Kaia nodded and climbed out, making her way up the steps, her heart thumping a little harder the closer she got to the familiar green apartment door. She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door cracked open — like Mrs. Midoriya had been waiting.

The woman’s face lit up with both relief and concern the second she saw Kaia. “Kaia, sweetie — come in, come in.”

Inside, the apartment smelled like fresh tea and comfort food, the kind of warmth that had always made Kaia feel welcome. Izuku sat on the couch, a blanket half-draped over his legs and his notebook resting on the coffee table. His arm was freshly healed from the battle at USJ, but his face still wore the exhaustion of the whole ordeal.

When he spotted her, he straightened up, offering a soft, sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. “You okay?”

Kaia moved over and sat beside him, sinking into the couch. “I should be asking you that,” she replied with a weak laugh. “I saw the state you were in yesterday.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away for a second. “Yeah, well… I guess I went a little overboard again.” His smile faded as his eyes flicked toward the bandage on her face. “That looks bad. Did they say if it’ll leave a scar?”

Kaia shrugged, brushing her fingers lightly against the bandage. “Maybe. I’m not too worried about it, though.” She looked at him, her voice quieting. “I just... needed to see you. After everything. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Izuku nodded, understanding written all over his face. “Me too,” he said quietly. “That Nomu, Shigaraki... Aizawa-sensei — I keep replaying it all in my head.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts, the weight of the attack still fresh on their minds. Kaia leaned back, letting her head rest against the couch.

“I thought we were ready for anything,” she murmured. “But that was something else entirely.”

Izuku looked over at her, his expression a mixture of worry and quiet resolve. “We weren’t supposed to be ready for that. But we held our own, Kaia. You held your own.”

Kaia felt a small smile tug at her lips, the warmth of his words giving her some comfort. She nudged his shoulder lightly. “You’re getting better at the whole pep-talk thing, you know.”

Izuku chuckled, a little more at ease now. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The door to the living room opened slightly as Mrs. Midoriya peeked in, her eyes kind. “Do you want to stay for lunch, Kaia? I made extra.”

Kaia glanced toward the clock, then at her phone, where a message from her mom popped up: Take your time, I’m still outside.

She nodded softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And for the first time since the attack, the heavy weight on her chest loosened, even if just for a little while.

Izuku smiled, clearly pleased. “Mom makes the best homemade rice balls. You’re gonna love them.”

Kaia’s stomach growled lightly at the thought of food. She had hardly eaten all day, too wrapped up in her own thoughts and the lingering fatigue from the battle. It was a welcome change to focus on something as simple and comforting as a good meal.

A few minutes later, Kaia called out to her mom, who had been waiting outside the Midoriya apartment. “Mom, come on in! Inko made lunch, and we’d love for you to join us.”

Amara’s voice came from outside. “Oh, really? Alright, I’ll be right in.”

Moments later, Amara stepped through the door, smiling at the warm, inviting atmosphere in the room. She walked over to Kaia and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for inviting me in, sweetie,” she said before turning to Inko with a friendly nod. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but I’d love to join for lunch.”

Inko chuckled softly and waved her hand dismissively. “Of course! I made more than enough. You should know better Amara, you’re always welcome.”

The four of them sat around the table, the room filled with the comfortable sounds of clinking plates and lighthearted chatter. Mrs. Midoriya served up rice balls and miso soup, the aroma of the food filling the air, easing Kaia’s nerves just a little more. It was one of those moments where everything felt a bit more normal again.

“So, Kaia, how’s the recovery going?” Inko asked as she passed a dish of steamed vegetables. “Are you feeling better after all that happened?”

Kaia’s fingers lightly traced the edge of her bowl as she thought about the question. “I’m doing okay. My powers are fine, but... it’s just been a lot to process. Everything happened so fast at the USJ. I never thought something like that would happen to us.”

Amara added with a knowing smile, “I think we’re all still trying to wrap our heads around it. But I’m proud of you, Kaia. You handled yourself well.”

Kaia felt a small flush of gratitude as she glanced over at her mom. “Thanks, Mom.”

Izuku, always eager to lift the mood, chimed in. “You were amazing, Kaia! The way you stopped that Nomu with your earthbending was incredible. I couldn’t believe it!”

Bakugo would probably never let her live that down, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. “Thanks, Izuku. It’s just... sometimes I don’t even realize what I can do until I’m in the moment.”

Amara smiled and set down her chopsticks. “I think that’s the case with a lot of us, right? We just need to trust ourselves, and our instincts.”

Inko nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of tea. “It’s a strange thing, being a hero. You never really know how far you’ll go until the moment comes, but when you’re doing it for the right reasons... it makes all the difference.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, moving from lighthearted topics like school and new hero trends to the silly stories of childhood clumsiness and awkward moments, everyone taking turns sharing laughs. Kaia felt herself begin to relax, the heaviness of the past few days beginning to slip away in the warmth of her surroundings.

For the first time since the chaos of the USJ, she allowed herself to feel like a normal teenager again, surrounded by people who cared about her. And for that, she was grateful.

*****

Kaia leaned back against the plush pillows of her parents' bed, her head resting comfortably as she chatted with her dad. His deep voice was calming as he recounted some of the latest developments from the hero work he had been involved in, but today felt different. It was rare for her dad to have a day off, and having both her parents home was a nice change of pace. She felt like things were slowly going back to normal, though a small part of her still couldn't shake the weight of what had happened at the USJ.

Her dad, Zaire, looked over at her with his characteristic smirk, the one that always made her feel like everything would be okay. “You know,” he started, “you’ve been getting better with that earthbending technique. I saw you last week—those rocks you pulled out of the ground? You’re not just showing off anymore. You’re controlling it.”

Kaia grinned at him, a little proud of herself despite the occasional overuse of her quirk. "I’m trying to pace myself," she admitted, rubbing her scar lightly, “but yeah, it’s kind of like... it’s starting to feel more natural now.” Her gaze lingered on the scar by her eye. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, and in a way, she thought it looked a little cool. Like a reminder of what she was capable of. Her father had noticed, but never made a big deal of it.

He chuckled softly. “You’ve always had a gift for adapting. Takes after me.” He leaned forward, giving her a mock serious look. “But no more taking on Nomus until you’re at least eighteen, alright?”

She laughed. “Deal.”

Just as Kaia was about to continue the conversation, the door creaked open, and her mom, Amara, entered the room, hanging up her phone. Her warm smile softened the atmosphere even more. “Hey, honey,” she greeted Kaia, her voice full of affection. She then turned to Zaire, her tone changing slightly. “Masaru invited us over to the Bakugo house for lunch today.“

Kaia’s ears perked up, and her expression shifted to one of surprise. “ We’re going to their house?”

Her mom chuckled, putting the phone down on the bedside table. “Yes. It seems like it’s been a while since we’ve all had a chance to sit down together. You don’t mind, do you?”

Kaia glanced at her dad, who shrugged casually. “It’s a good idea, actually. It’ll be nice to get out of the house for a bit, right?”

The thought of visiting the Bakugo household filled her with a mix of excitement and mild nervousness. Sure she had been there countless times growing up, but after everything they were just staring to warm up to each other again.

Her dad flashed a grin. “Plus, maybe we can get some tips on how to keep a house that... explosive... in one piece.”

“Dad!” Kaia laughed, her face flushing slightly.

Amara shot him a knowing look before turning to Kaia. “It’ll be good for you to hang out with Katsuki, too. You’ve both been through a lot recently, and sometimes it's good to have those moments that remind you that life doesn’t always have to be so intense.”

Kaia nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Great!” Amara clapped her hands together. “Let’s get ready then! I’ll tell Masaru we’ll be there soon.”

As Kaia stood up from the bed, she couldn’t help but feel a little excitement building. Maybe it would be nice to just... relax and spend some time with everyone. The past week had been a whirlwind, and while there was still some lingering heaviness from the USJ attack, it felt like things were slowly moving back to normal—like she was getting a glimpse of life beyond the chaos of being a student at UA.

As she followed her parents out of the room, ready to get ready, she felt a little spark of hope that maybe today, even if just for a few hours, she could just be Kaia again.

*****

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the neatly kept streets of their neighbourhood as Kaia, her parents made their way to the Bakugo household. The walk wasn’t long, just a short stroll down the familiar tree-lined streets that Kaia had spent so many afternoons on as a child. Despite the warmth of the day, her heart beat a little faster with each step. Today wasn’t just a family lunch—it was a chance to face some unspoken tension and try to reconnect with someone who had once been her best friend.

As they reached the Bakugo house, Zaire gave a nod to his wife and daughter before knocking on the door. It swung open almost immediately, and there stood Mitsuki, beaming brightly as she greeted them with open arms.

“Well, if it isn’t one if my favorite families!” Mitsuki’s voice was cheerful as always, her smile wide. “It’s so great to see you! Come on in, we’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“Thanks for having us,” Amara said with a smile, stepping in after Kaia, who nodded politely, though her nerves still fluttered in her chest. “It’s been a while since we all got together like this.”

Zaire gave a playful nudge to Masaru, who had already entered the house. “You always know how to make us feel welcome, Mitsuki.” Masaru chuckled in agreement.

As the adults exchanged pleasantries, Kaia stood just inside the doorway, feeling the familiar weight of nerves settle in her stomach. The Bakugos’ home was much like she remembered—warm, comfortable, and full of love, but now it felt a bit different, knowing the person she was closest to in this house was just upstairs, waiting.

Mitsuki, as if reading the atmosphere, turned to Kaia with a knowing smile. “Katsuki’s upstairs, sweetie,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “Would you mind bringing him down? Lunch is almost ready, and I think he could use some company.”

Kaia hesitated for only a second before nodding, plastering on her best smile. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you, Kaia. Don’t keep him too long now,” Mitsuki said with a wink, ushering the rest of the family further inside to chat.

Kaia felt a knot tighten in her chest, but she walked up the familiar staircase, the sound of her footsteps muffled on the carpeted floor. The house felt quieter now, the soft hum of conversation downstairs growing distant.

As Kaia made her way upstairs, the adults in the living room settled into conversation, the atmosphere light and relaxed. Mitsuki, ever the social one, kept the conversation flowing with Amara and Zaire, their voices a mix of laughter and easy banter.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it today,” Mitsuki said, her voice warm and inviting. She leaned back on the couch, a small smile on her face.

Zaire, casually leaning back in his seat, took a sip of his drink and grinned. “Yeah, it’s nice to get a break from the usual chaos. Work’s been a whirlwind lately.”

Masaru chuckled lightly. “Tell me about it. And Katsuki has been keeping us busy as usual,” he added with a fond, if slightly exasperated, look. There was love in his eyes, but his expression shifted just slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

Mitsuki didn’t miss it, and her expression softened as she glanced at Amara, giving her a quiet, knowing look. “Speaking of Katsuki,” Mitsuki continued, a lighter tone creeping into her voice, “I invited Inko and Izuku to join us for lunch today. They're running a little late, though.”

Amara’s face brightened at the mention of Inko and her son. “Oh, that’s great!”

Mitsuki smiled back, but there was a small hesitation before she spoke again. “Well, I wasn’t sure how the kids would take it... I didn’t mention it to either of them, honestly.”

Zaire raised an eyebrow. “You think they wouldn’t want to see each other?”

Mitsuki sighed softly. “It’s not that... It’s more complicated. Over the years, Katsuki’s attitude toward Izuku has created a bit of distance between the three of them. Kaia and Izuku used to be so close, but Katsuki’s behaviour toward Izuku really drove a wedge between them. It’s been tense, to say the least. I’ve noticed Kaia trying to mend things with both boys recently, but I think there’s still some lingering strain.”

Amara exchanged a glance with her husband, her expression thoughtful. “That must be difficult for her,” she murmured. “Trying to balance both friendships. Especially when it’s so clear that Katsuki’s attitude toward Izuku is part of the issue.”

Mitsuki nodded, a small frown appearing on her face. “Yeah, and even though Kaia’s been talking to them separately, trying to rebuild things... it’s not the same as when they were younger. We haven’t spent time together like this in years, and even we, as the parents, haven’t really been aware of the tension between them.”

Masaru nodded, his face thoughtful. “Kids grow up, things change... but I didn’t realize it had gotten to that point. I’m sure Kaia’s doing her best, though.”

Amara sighed softly. “I’m sure she is. But this could be a good opportunity for them. Being around each other again, maybe they can start to heal.”

Mitsuki chuckled lightly, trying to brighten the mood. “But we’re here now, so let’s enjoy the time we have together.”

The conversation turned to lighter topics, the sound of plates being set and glasses clinking filling the room. But there was a subtle, unspoken hope hanging in the air. Maybe, just maybe, this lunch could be the chance the three of them needed to work through their differences.

*****

Kaia’s footsteps echoed softly as she ascended the staircase, her mind swirling with thoughts of everything that had happened recently. The memory of the phone call with Katsuki from the night after the USJ incident still lingered in her mind. It had been brief, but there was a shift in his tone that had caught her off guard. After all the chaos and fighting, they’d both been exhausted, and it was clear there was something left unsaid between them.

She reached the top of the stairs and stood in front of Katsuki’s door for a moment, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly. The door creaked open just a bit, and she peered inside.

Katsuki was sitting on his bed, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, looking as though he hadn’t moved since she’d last seen him. His sharp, fiery eyes flicked toward the door when she stepped in, and for a second, the air between them seemed thick with unspoken tension.

“Lunch is ready,” Kaia said, trying to keep her tone casual, even though her chest felt tight. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Everyone’s here.”

Katsuki didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking down to the floor for a moment as if he was deep in thought. After a beat, he finally stood up, his usual gruff demeanor back in place, though there was something different about him—something softer, as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the situation between them.

“Yeah, I heard,” he muttered, giving her a quick glance. “Let’s get this over with.” He seemed to shake off whatever internal conflict had been bothering him and walked past her toward the stairs.

Kaia stayed for a moment longer, watching him as he moved toward the door. She could feel the weight of their history—how things had shifted between them over the years. The last time they’d had a real conversation had been that phone call after the chaos at the USJ. It had been awkward, but there had been something raw in his voice that night. He’d been tired, the adrenaline from the fight still wearing off, and so had she. It was a strange moment for both of them—one that had lingered.

But now, standing in front of him, she wasn’t sure what to say. She was still trying to piece everything together, trying to make sense of the things they’d both been through, and how to repair the bond that had once been so simple.

Katsuki glanced back over his shoulder as if sensing her hesitation. “What, you’re just gonna stand there?” he barked, though there was no real heat behind his words, just the usual edge.

Kaia blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. She smiled faintly, her usual sarcastic edge creeping in. “You know, I could just leave you up here if you’re going to be like that.”

Katsuki’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks, but it didn’t last long. He turned back and walked out of the room, leading the way down the stairs. Kaia followed, feeling a little lighter with each step.

As they made their way downstairs, she glanced at him again. Despite the tension, despite the time that had passed and the distance between them, it was clear they both still cared. There was no denying that, no matter how much things had changed.

*****

The dining room hummed with the sound of conversation as both families sat around the table. The adults seemed to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing and reminiscing about their high school days—stories of mischief, old classmates, and the bond they shared from years of friendship. Kaia could feel the warmth in the room, a stark contrast to the quiet tension she and Katsuki shared. They hadn’t spoken much since the trip to the Bakugo house, and even now, the air around them felt thick with unspoken words.

Kaia picked at her food absentmindedly, trying to focus on the conversation between her parents and the Bakugos. But every so often, her gaze would flicker to Katsuki, who was sitting across from her with his arms crossed, his usual scowl plastered on his face. She could feel his unease, though he was doing his best to hide it, and she understood—he probably didn’t know how to feel about this sudden gathering of everyone, least of all Inko and Izuku.

Kaia’s seismic sense suddenly kicked in, and a familiar sensation of footsteps approaching the front door made her pause. She didn’t need to think twice to know exactly who it was. Inko and Izuku. They were close, and Kaia could already sense the energy in the room shift.

Before she could say anything, the front door creaked open, followed by the soft sounds of footsteps. The door to the dining room opened, and Inko and Izuku stepped inside, the warmth from the kitchen spilling out into the entryway.

“Oh, sorry we’re late!” Inko said cheerfully, giving a quick wave as she stepped into the room. Izuku, walking just behind her, gave a small, polite smile but didn’t say anything immediately.

Kaia’s eyes instinctively found Izuku’s, and she gave him a hopeful glance. It was a silent gesture, but one full of reassurance. She knew this afternoon wasn’t going to be easy—not with the past tension between Katsuki and Izuku—but she hoped that maybe, just maybe, things could smooth over.

Inko beamed at the group and took a seat next to Amara, while Izuku settled next to Kaia. She could feel the way Katsuki’s glare burned into the side of her head, though he didn’t look at Izuku directly. She could sense the anger that was bubbling up, but it was clear that Katsuki was trying to keep it contained—for now.

Kaia forced herself to focus on the food in front of her, the atmosphere suddenly feeling even more charged as she felt the undercurrent of discomfort growing between the two boys. Her sense didn’t help either; the energy in the room was a volatile mix of old grudges and unspoken words. She couldn’t help but wish that the day would pass without another confrontation.

But part of her knew that was probably wishful thinking. Today, it seemed, would be another test for the three of them—their families, their relationships, and whether or not they could work through the tangled mess that had been created over the years.

Izuku shifted slightly in his seat, and Kaia could feel the calmness in his presence, like a soothing balm to the storm brewing in the room. She looked over at him again, her heart softening just a little. He was here, at least, and they could weather this together—if they could just get through this afternoon without the walls completely falling apart.

She stole a quick glance at Katsuki. He hadn’t said a word since Izuku had arrived, his focus solely on his plate. But Kaia knew better than anyone how to read him, and she could tell that he was waiting for something—probably a confrontation, something to give him an excuse to lash out.

The dinner continued with a low hum of conversation, but the atmosphere between the three teens remained thick with unspoken tension. Katsuki, as usual, was quiet, his scowl firmly in place as he poked at his food. He occasionally shot a glare at Izuku, though he made no effort to start a conversation. Kaia, sitting between the two of them, felt the weight of the silence pressing down on her. Despite the warm ambiance in the Bakugo home, the emotional distance between her and her childhood friends was undeniable.

Still, she tried to keep things light. She found herself gravitating towards Izuku, as she usually did. His calm presence always helped to steady her nerves, and she appreciated the quiet understanding he offered without needing to say much. They slipped into a conversation about U.A., comparing their experiences in class and sharing small jokes about the teachers.

Katsuki, however, seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts as he occasionally muttered something under his breath or shot a glare at his plate. Kaia didn’t push it, knowing well enough that if he wanted to speak up, he would. He wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation when he was in the mood for it.

As the last bite of food disappeared from the plates, Kaia felt the change in the air. The tension, while still there, was beginning to ease ever so slightly. She could tell the adults were wrapping up their own conversation, their laughter filling the air as they moved to clear the table and chat about their old days.

"Alright, you three," Mitsuki called, breaking the silence. "You’re on dish duty. We’ll be out on the porch."

Kaia gave a half-hearted smile, grateful for the excuse to break away from the table and the weight of the awkwardness between her and Katsuki. She and Izuku stood, moving to the sink as Katsuki begrudgingly joined them. Kaia sensed the edge in his movements but didn’t press it. The last thing they needed was another confrontation.

While they worked together to wash and dry the dishes, the sounds of the adults’ laughter filtered in from the porch. Kaia caught snippets of their conversation, a pleasant noise that made her smile despite the lingering tension. It reminded her of the days when all the families had been together before everything had started to change—the days when they had no idea about quirks and U.A., when they had just been kids. The memories were bittersweet, and she couldn’t help but wonder how things had gotten so complicated.

"I can’t believe how much has changed," Kaia murmured to Izuku as she rinsed the last plate. She wiped her hands on a towel and looked at him with a soft, thoughtful expression. "It feels like just yesterday we were running around as kids, huh?"

Izuku nodded, his eyes distant for a moment as he thought back to their childhood days. "Yeah... things were simpler then." He paused, glancing over at Katsuki. "But we’re all growing, Kaia. Sometimes things have to change, even if it’s hard."

Kaia’s gaze followed his, and for a brief moment, she felt her heart tighten. She knew they couldn’t go back, but the idea of everything being so different now—especially with Katsuki—was a heavy weight to carry. She could feel the years of tension, the unspoken hurt, and the growing distance between them all.

Katsuki, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly slammed his plate down with an irritated sigh. "Can we get this over with already?."

Kaia raised an eyebrow at his tone, but instead of replying, she nudged Izuku lightly. "Let’s finish up, and then we can join them outside. I’m sure the fresh air will help."

Izuku smiled at her, his nervousness from earlier dissipating. "Yeah, sounds good."

With the last of the dishes put away, the three teens made their way out to the porch where the adults were relaxing, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air. The warmth from the afternoon sun was fading, but the laughter from the adults made the moment feel lighter.

They sat down together on the steps, the night beginning to settle around them. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be, but Kaia could sense the tiniest shift in the atmosphere. They weren’t where they had been, not by a long shot, but maybe—just maybe—they could find their way back.

For now, at least, the three of them were together. And that, in itself, was enough.

*****

As Izuku and Inko prepared to leave, Kaia stood up from her seat and walked over to him with a warm smile. Her heart felt lighter, a small relief knowing that, for the first time in what felt like forever, they had spent some time together without the weight of the past hanging over them.

Izuku seemed to notice the change too, his green eyes bright as he returned her smile. Kaia wrapped her arms around him in a quick, friendly hug. “Take care, okay?” she said, her voice gentle, the bond they shared always feeling like an anchor.

Izuku nodded, a slight blush colouring his cheeks, before pulling away. “You too, Kaia. I’m glad we got to hang out today.”

Inko, always kind and motherly, gave Kaia a warm hug as well.

After a few more polite exchanges, the Midoriyas left, with Kaia watching them disappear down the path, feeling a small sense of peace in her chest.

Back inside, the Mikage family lingered a little longer. The conversation between the parents flowed easily as they reminisced about old memories, sharing laughs that echoed through the house. Kaia, however, felt the need for some space, and Katsuki must’ve felt the same. He wordlessly stood and headed toward the stairs, Kaia following behind.

They made their way up to his room, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. Inside, it was familiar—his room hadn’t changed much since they were kids. There were still posters on the walls, some new additions from U.A. and hero-related memorabilia, but the core of it remained the same.

Katsuki sat down on his bed, crossing his arms, while Kaia leaned against the doorframe. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with unspoken words. Both of them had a lot on their minds, but neither was quite sure how to start.

Finally, Katsuki broke the silence, his voice gruff but with an edge of sincerity. “You know…” He glanced at her, his eyes lingering on the scar near her eye. “That scar’s gonna make you look even tougher.”

Kaia chuckled softly, the comment familiar, but the weight behind it—concern that was rarely voiced—made her heart flutter slightly. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s nothing, really,” she replied, reaching up to trace the scar with her fingers lightly. “It’s just a reminder of what happened that day.”

Her mind instantly went back to the USJ attack, the chaos, the fear, and the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. She still couldn’t shake the images of the villains, the violence, and everything that had unfolded so quickly.

Katsuki’s eyes softened, but his words were blunt as always. “I know. But you… you did a hell of a job that day.” He paused for a moment, running a hand through his messy blond hair before continuing, his voice quieter than before. “I—I don’t know what would’ve happened without you, Kaia. You kept us together, you kept us moving.”

Kaia blinked, caught off guard by his rare moment of vulnerability. Katsuki, as stubborn and proud as he was, didn’t often express his gratitude. His tone, however, made her realize just how much their friendship—despite everything—still mattered to him.

“I was just doing what needed to be done,” she replied, trying to brush it off. “But… thanks, Katsuki. I’m glad I was there.” She paused, looking at him carefully. “We all made it out, and that’s what matters.”

Katsuki let out a sharp exhale, as if he were trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” His voice returned to its usual gruffness, the walls he kept up around his emotions quickly rising again. “Just don’t get hurt like that again, alright?”

Kaia smiled softly at his words. “I’ll try my best,” she replied, her voice light. “But no promises. I’m a hero-in-training after all.”

Katsuki didn’t respond immediately, but she caught the small hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Just don’t get in the way of my spotlight,” he muttered under his breath, but it was said with a teasing tone, and Kaia couldn’t help but laugh.

For a few moments, they simply sat in the quiet of his room, the tension between them beginning to ease, if only slightly. They were still far from the way they were as kids, but there was a shift—a small one—that she couldn’t ignore.

Maybe things weren’t fixed yet, but at least for now, they weren’t as broken as they had been. And that, in itself, felt like progress.

Kaia felt the familiar pulse beneath her feet — five soft, distinct taps. Her dad’s subtle signal. It was their little code, something he’d used since she was little, and it always meant the same thing: Time to go.

She pushed herself off Katsuki’s bed, smoothing the wrinkles in her clothes as she glanced his way. “Guess that’s my cue,” she said lightly, giving him a small, genuine smile. “See you around, Katsuki.”

She had just turned to step toward the door when, out of nowhere, she felt a firm grip on her wrist. Before she could even process it, Katsuki tugged her into a quick, almost clumsy hug.

It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t tight — but it was real. The kind of gesture that was rare coming from him. When they pulled apart, Kaia blinked, still a little surprised, but the corners of her mouth lifted into a teasing smirk.

She tilted her head and couldn’t resist poking fun at him, voice soft but sly. “Huh. Looks like you’re not so high and mighty after all.”

Katsuki’s cheeks flushed just slightly, and true to form, he grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms like the defence mechanism it was.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his tone low and sharp — but without the usual bite.

Kaia let out a light laugh, stepping backward toward the door. “See you at school, Bakugo,” she added playfully before heading downstairs.

That small moment lingered with her as she rejoined her parents. It wasn’t much, but it meant everything. Maybe the space between them wasn’t so wide after all.

Chapter Text

The week had passed quicker than Kaia expected — her body had healed and the bruises were fading. But the moment she walked through the doors of Class 1-A that morning, she realized the tension that had weighed on her chest for days was finally lifting.

Before the homeroom bell could ring, the room was alive with chatter and energy. Laughter bounced off the walls, and the sound of desks shifting and friends greeting each other filled the space. Students swapped stories of their recovery week, shared notes, and checked in on one another like soldiers who’d just made it through the same battle.

Kaia stepped in quietly, taking it all in.

Iida was already making his usual rounds, checking on each classmate with that same crisp, responsible air. Ochako waved from her desk, beaming the second she spotted Kaia. Ashido practically barreled through her conversation with Sero to come over and give her a quick but tight hug.

“About time, Earthquake Queen!” Ashido grinned. “I was starting to forget what your voice sounded like.”

Kaia let out a soft laugh, bumping her shoulder lightly against hers. “You’ve never been that lucky.”

At the back, Todoroki gave a quiet nod in her direction, the same calm understanding in his gaze that he always carried. Midoriya, who’d just been mid-conversation with Kirishima, turned and offered her a small smile — one of those warm, earnest smiles that never seemed to change, no matter the storm. And then there was Bakugo, sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. His usual scowl was in place, but Kaia noticed the difference in his expression — just a flicker of acknowledgment when their eyes met. No words, just an unspoken glad you’re back.

As Kaia settled into her seat, the morning sunlight poured through the windows, and for the first time in a while, the classroom felt like home again. They had been through something heavy, something real — but here they were, still standing.

The classroom door slid open with its usual sharp sound, but when Mr. Aizawa stepped inside, the room fell into a hush. The sight of him — still wrapped in bandages, arm in a sling, and deep purple bruises peeking from under the gauze around his neck — caught everyone off guard.

For a second, no one said anything. Even Bakugo, who normally sat with his chin in his palm and an impatient scowl, looked slightly thrown off. Kaia straightened in her seat, eyes flicking over her teacher’s injuries, guilt tugging at her chest despite knowing he wouldn’t want any pity.

“You all look surprised,” Aizawa muttered dryly, his voice rougher than usual. “What? You thought I’d still be laid up in a hospital bed?”

The silence was answer enough, and a few students shifted awkwardly in their seats.

“Tch,” Aizawa huffed, though there was something faintly amused behind his deadpan expression. “I wouldn’t waste recovery time just lying around. Now, settle down.”

The class obeyed, the energy shifting from excitement to attention as Aizawa scanned the room, his gaze lingering for a moment on Kaia, then on Midoriya, and finally on Bakugo — all three of them knowing firsthand how close things had gotten at the USJ.

Once everyone quieted, he continued, “I have an announcement. The U.A. Sports Festival will be held at the end of next week.”

That snapped the class back into a ripple of whispers. Shock painted across a few faces, while others lit up with excitement. Sero raised his hand, leaning forward in his seat.

“Wait, the Sports Festival? So soon?” Sero asked, brows furrowed. “Is it... even safe to hold something like that? After what happened at the USJ?”

Aizawa, unfazed, met his gaze. “It’s precisely because of what happened that we need to go through with it.”

The room grew quiet again as he went on, his voice calm but firm.

“U.A. doesn’t shy away from threats. If we cancel or hesitate, it’ll only show the world — and the villains who attacked — that fear works. The Sports Festival is our way of showing everyone, including them, that this school, and you as students, will persevere. We don’t stop because of fear. We push forward.”

Kaia sat back, the words settling deep in her chest. A part of her still felt the sting of the USJ, the weight of that day’s terror, but hearing Aizawa speak like that — bruised, battered, and standing — sparked something else: resolve.

The Sports Festival wasn’t just another school event anymore.

It was a statement.

*****

When the lunch bell finally rang, the usual chaos of scraping chairs and chatter filled the halls as Class 1-A filed out toward the cafeteria. Today felt a little different — the air wasn’t as heavy as it had been the past week, but there was still a lingering sense of relief that everyone had returned safe and sound.

Kaia was walking beside Uraraka and Asui when Mina popped her head around the corner, waving her arms like a bright pink beacon.

“Girls' table today!” Mina called out, her usual bubbly smile in full force. “No excuses — I wanna hear everything I missed!”

Kaia let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of normalcy return. “You didn’t miss much except a week of sleeping and staring at the ceiling,” she joked lightly, following the others toward the usual table.

Once they settled, trays full of rice bowls, curry, and drinks between them, the conversation flowed naturally — like no time had passed. Jirou leaned on one elbow, teasing Mina for nearly blowing up her phone with texts during the break, while Yaoyorozu shared how she spent the week brushing up on her combat theory. Uraraka giggled, talking about how her parents had called her every night for reassurance.

Kaia listened, grateful for the easy atmosphere. For the first time since the attack, she felt like she could breathe. The girls circled back to her, of course, asking how she was holding up.

“You gave us such a scare, you know?” Mina said, pouting slightly. “That gash looked nasty, Kaia.”

Kaia instinctively brushed her fingers near her temple, where the wound had closed, the scar faint but permanent. “Yeah,” she admitted with a shrug, “guess I’ll have a reminder of that day for a while. But I’m okay now.”

Asui tilted her head slightly, her tone calm but sincere. “Scars are part of being a hero, ribbit. You handled yourself really well, Kaia.”

Yaoyorozu nodded in agreement. “You were incredible, honestly. I heard from Kirishima and Midoriya — you kept calm, even when things were at their worst.”

Kaia’s cheeks warmed at the praise, her lips pulling into a modest smile. “Thanks, guys. I wasn’t the only one. We all did what we had to.”

The conversation at the girls’ table flowed easily from classes and the upcoming Sports Festival to the usual light gossip — until Mina, with her usual mischievous glint, leaned in closer and lowered her voice, the signal for something juicier.

“So… now that things are calming down,” Mina grinned, resting her chin in her hands, “we have to talk about something way more important than quirks and training…”

The rest of the table paused, curious.

“What’s that?” Uraraka asked, tilting her head.

Mina wiggled her eyebrows. “Crushes.”

Kaia nearly choked on her drink, glancing sideways while Jirou snorted, trying to play it cool but clearly listening in. Yaoyorozu gave a soft, polite laugh, her cheeks lightly flushed.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you haven’t thought about it!” Mina nudged Kaia playfully. “We’ve all been stuck together since the school year started — there’s got to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

Uraraka’s face went pink immediately, her hands waving. “W-What? I’ve been too busy focusing on school and hero stuff!”

“That sounds like a yes to me!” Mina teased, causing Uraraka to sink further into her seat, her face glowing with embarrassment.

Asui, ever calm, let out a soft ribbit. “I think Ochako’s reaction gave that one away.”

Kaia chuckled, the light mood contagious. But Mina, sharp as ever, turned her focus right to her next target.

“What about you, Kaia? You’ve been weirdly quiet.”

Kaia blinked, caught off guard, and tried to act unfazed. “Me? I’ve got enough going on without thinking about that.”

Mina narrowed her eyes knowingly, leaning in closer. “That doesn’t sound like a no.”

Jirou smirked, resting her chin on her palm. “Come on, Kaia. You’re telling me there’s no one you’ve been close to? Not even childhood friend close?”

The subtle nudge at the word “childhood” made Kaia glance away briefly — her mind flicking to Katsuki, their rocky friendship, the phone call the night of the USJ attack, and the quiet hug before she left his room.

“Just... complicated,” Kaia mumbled with a small shrug, brushing some hair behind her ear. “But no. Nothing like that. Not right now, at least.”

The girls exchanged looks but, sensing her answer was genuine (or at least all they were going to get), they moved on — now turning their attention toward Yaoyorozu, whose graceful composure faltered for the briefest second under the same scrutiny.

The lunch table filled with laughter and teasing again, the topic light but personal — and for the first time in a while, Kaia felt a little normal. Even if her heart wasn’t ready to admit it, part of her knew there were feelings there, hidden under all the rubble and history.

But for now, it was enough to laugh with her friends.

*****

Kaia skidded slightly as she rounded the corner, nearly bumping straight into Izuku as he stepped out of the teachers' lounge. His head was low, and his usual spark seemed dimmed. He jolted slightly when he noticed her standing there, quickly trying to school his expression into something more neutral.

“Hey, Izuku,” Kaia said, her voice soft but edged with concern. “You alright? You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

Izuku straightened up, forcing a smile that was just a little too quick. “Yeah! I’m fine, just, uh… long day, y’know?”

But Kaia’s sharp eyes caught it — the slight twitch in his eyebrow, the same tell he’d had since they were kids. And even without seeing it, her seismic sense was tuned to him; she could feel the subtle, uneven shift in his heartbeat and the way the muscles in his body tensed under the lie.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms loosely. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Your eyebrow’s doing that twitchy thing again.” Her voice was light, but the concern was genuine. “You always do that when you lie.”

Izuku winced, shoulders sagging slightly. “You caught that, huh?”

Kaia tilted her head slightly. “I always catch it. Plus, I can feel it when you’re off, remember?” She tapped her foot lightly against the floor, her seismic sense still tuned to the tiny shifts in his posture. “What’s going on?”

Izuku hesitated, the weight of the conversation with All Might clearly still sitting heavy on his chest. “I was talking with All Might. About the Sports Festival,” he admitted quietly. “And about what I need to prove... I just have a lot on my mind.”

Kaia’s expression softened, the sharpness fading into something more reassuring. She stepped forward, nudging his arm gently with her elbow. Her voice was steady, unwavering. “You’ve got people backing you up. Me included.”

For the first time, a real smile tugged at Izuku’s lips, small but sincere. “Thanks, Kaia.”

She gave a nod and glanced at the clock on her phone. “I’ve got to meet Kirishima at the gym — he roped me into training with him over the break. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Izuku shook his head, the corners of his smile still lingering. “I’ll pass for today. But... thanks.”

“Anytime,” she replied, turning on her heel and starting off. Just before rounding the corner, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Izuku.”

And with that, she jogged off toward the gym, her words lingering behind her like a quiet anchor in the storm swirling around him.

Kaia entered the gym, slightly breathless, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. She spotted Kirishima near the mats, casually stretching out his shoulders and legs, waiting patiently.

“Sorry I’m late!” she called out, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail as she approached. “I got held up. Ran into Midoriya.”

Kirishima looked up, flashing his usual easy-going grin. “No worries! Figured you’d show up eventually — you’re not the type to bail on a training promise.”

Kaia gave a sheepish smile and started stretching alongside him, rolling her neck and shaking out her arms. After a solid warm-up, the two made their way out to one of U.A.’s outdoor training zones — a section of rugged, rocky terrain designed for endurance and combat drills.

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, the air crisp but pleasant as Kaia picked up a smooth, palm-sized rock and tossed it from one hand to the other.

“So, same drill you explained over text?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with playful challenge.

Kirishima flexed his arms, already hardening his skin, the telltale shine of his Quirk creeping across his forearms. “Yup! I need to work on holding my hardening longer and bracing for direct hits. You’ve got the best arm for this.” He gave her a thumbs-up, bracing his stance. “Whenever you’re ready, hit me with your best shot!”

Kaia grinned, winding her arm back and launching the first stone toward him — not too hard, just enough to test his reaction. It smacked his shoulder with a sharp thud, but Kirishima stood firm, the hardened skin doing its job.

“Not bad!” she called. “But I’m not going easy this time.”

As the session went on, Kaia increased the speed and size of the rocks, forcing Kirishima to focus harder, reinforcing his Quirk each time. The two of them fell into an easy rhythm: throw, block, adjust — laughing between sets and encouraging each other like old friends who knew the value of pushing limits.

When Kaia finally paused, hands on her hips, catching her breath, she chuckled. “You’ve gotten way better at this. I might need to start throwing boulders next time.”

Kirishima wiped the sweat from his brow, still slightly out of breath but grinning ear to ear. “Bring it on, Kaia. You know I’m always down for a challenge.”

As the sun started to dip lower, painting the sky in warm streaks of orange and pink, Kirishima wiped the back of his arm across his forehead, shaking out his arms after another solid hit. He thought they were about wrapped up for the day — until he saw Kaia jog over to her bag.

She rummaged through it for a second before pulling out a dark bandana. Turning back to him, she stretched it between her hands, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes.

“Alright, one more drill,” she called, tying the bandana securely around her head, covering her eyes. “Let’s switch it up. You move around, try to stay light on your feet — I’ll track you without seeing.”

Kirishima tilted his head, a curious grin pulling at his mouth. “Using your seismic sense, huh? Man, you’re really stacking the odds against me today.”

Kaia smirked. “Think of it as extra training for both of us. You practice staying quiet, I practice staying sharp.”

With that, she planted her feet firmly, grounding herself in the earth. The world around her dimmed, her other senses quieting as she focused on the faintest of vibrations — the shift of rocks under Kirishima’s boots, the subtle creak of his weight moving from one leg to the other.

Kirishima, knowing the challenge, did his best to keep light on his feet, adjusting his stance and softening his steps as he moved in a slow circle around her. But no matter how careful he was, Kaia would tilt her head ever so slightly, feeling the shift.

“Got you,” she muttered.

Without missing a beat, she stomped lightly against the ground, causing a small pillar of earth to jut upward a few feet in front of Kirishima — just enough to surprise him and make him hop back with a short laugh.

“Geez! That’s freaky,” he called, impressed but not entirely shocked. “Your quirk’s a cheat code sometimes, you know that?”

Kaia chuckled under her breath, still focused, resetting her stance. “You’d be surprised how many people forget the earth tells me everything.”

They ran the drill a few more times, Kirishima darting around in increasingly wide circles, trying his best to outsmart her. But each time he thought he’d finally slipped her notice, a new stone stump would burst from the dirt, marking the spot he’d just been.

Finally, when the sun hung low and shadows stretched across the training grounds, Kaia pulled the bandana from her eyes, squinting into the light with a satisfied grin.

“Not bad, Red,” she teased, brushing dust off her hands. “You got quicker. I’ll give you that.”

Kirishima stretched his arms overhead, still catching his breath, but laughing. “Yeah, and you got scary accurate. Remind me never to sneak up on you.”

“Deal,” Kaia replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder as the two of them made their way back toward the school, muscles sore but spirits light.

The training session might’ve been over, but the weight of the week felt a little lighter on both their shoulders.

*****

Kaia pushed open the front door, the quiet hum of the house greeting her as she stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of lavender — her mom must’ve lit one of those calming candles before heading out. She slipped off her shoes and padded into the living room, glancing at her phone as she flopped onto the couch.

A text from earlier blinked up at her:

Mom: Dad and I are heading out for a date night. Be home late. Love you, sweetheart.

Kaia smiled softly at the message, setting her phone down on the coffee table. It was a rare thing for her parents to carve out time like this. Over the years, she'd seen their fair share of ups and downs — nights where arguments left a heavy silence in the house, mornings when neither seemed to know how to bridge the distance. But little by little, they’d started finding their way back to each other.

Seeing them work through it, slowly but surely, gave her a quiet kind of hope. Even with all the craziness in their world — her training, U.A., hero work, and the looming shadows of the past — her family was still standing. That thought alone warmed her chest.

She stretched out across the couch, letting the quiet fill the space around her, the day's training settling into her muscles. The house might’ve been empty, but it didn’t feel lonely tonight.

After polishing off some leftovers and taking a long, hot shower, Kaia felt the exhaustion from training start to catch up with her. Dressed in a worn T-shirt and soft shorts, she plopped down at her desk, flipping open her math notebook. The numbers and formulas stared back at her, looking more like a foreign language than anything else.

Her phone, propped up against a pencil cup, buzzed lightly as Momo’s voice came through the speaker.

“…so if you substitute x back into the second equation, it should simplify the whole thing,” Momo explained, her voice calm and steady as always.

Kaia leaned forward, pencil tapping against her cheek as she scribbled down the steps. “You make it sound so easy,” she mumbled with a small laugh. “I swear my brain just hits a wall with this unit.”

Momo let out a soft, understanding chuckle. “It’s only tricky until you see the pattern. You’re almost there.”

The two girls worked through the assignment together, the comfort of the call making the workload feel lighter. Occasionally, they drifted into side conversations — Momo asked how Kaia was feeling after the USJ attack, and Kaia reassured her that she was healing up fine, even mentioning the scar that was slowly starting to grow on her. Momo, ever the optimist, told her it sounded more like a badge of strength than a flaw.

The night stretched on quietly, pencils scratching against paper, occasional laughter filling the small spaces between equations. Even from miles apart, the connection felt solid — like the world wasn’t so heavy for once.

And by the time they finished the last question, Kaia leaned back in her chair with a yawn, feeling a little more accomplished and a lot more grateful for nights like this.

*****

As the days ticked down toward the U.A. Sports Festival, Kaia found herself falling into a steady rhythm. Every spare moment outside of class was dedicated to training — when she wasn’t throwing punches and testing reflexes with Kirishima at school, she was at her father’s agency, pushing herself even harder.

Hoshino and Yu, her father’s seasoned sidekicks, had practically adopted her into their routine. Hoshino focused on sharpening her combat techniques — precise footwork, controlled strikes, and improving her reaction speed beyond what her quirk could cover. Yu, on the other hand, challenged her endurance and situational awareness, forcing Kaia to think two moves ahead even while her muscles screamed in protest.

The agency's training floor became her second home. Yu was relentless, setting up obstacle courses and mock battles designed to wear her down mentally as much as physically, while Hoshino corrected her form, offering advice in a firm but encouraging tone.

Zaire, though usually busy, would peek in now and then — quiet but proud, watching as his daughter refined her skills with a level of determination that reminded him so much of Amara when they were younger.

Every day, she left the agency with sore muscles, aching joints, and dirt-smudged cheeks — but her heart felt steadier. Even with the nerves slowly creeping in, Kaia could feel herself getting stronger.

Two days before the Sports Festival, the afternoon sun poured through the tall gym windows, painting long golden stripes across the polished floor. Kaia was the first to arrive, her footsteps echoing through the quiet space as she set her bag down by the wall.

The stillness wasn’t something she minded — in fact, after all the noise and pressure of the past weeks, it felt comforting.

She started her usual warm-up routine: shoulder rolls, lunges, stretches to ease the tension from her back and legs. Once her muscles were loose, she shifted her weight, settling her stance low and sturdy. Her feet spread shoulder-width apart, rooted to the floor like tree trunks.

Without thinking, Kaia moved into her Hung Gar forms — the same ones her father had been teaching her since childhood. Each motion was steady and deliberate: sharp fists met open palm blocks, wide grounded stances transitioned into powerful, sweeping strikes. Her breathing kept time, even and controlled.

She wasn’t manipulating the earth at this moment, but she could feel it beneath her, the quiet pulse of connection that came from practicing with intent. Hung Gar wasn’t just about strength or attack — it was about balance. About knowing when to hold your ground and when to strike with purpose.

The stability, the sheer rootedness, was second nature to her now. Being in tune with the earth was something her quirk helped her refine, but Hung Gar had taught her to respect it.

She finished her final form with a sharp exhale, holding the last stance for a moment, her arms folded in the classic strong, still frame. Her mind felt clearer, her focus sharper — ready for whatever training Kirishima had planned once he showed up.

The gym doors creaked open, and Kaia turned her head, expecting to see Kirishima’s familiar red hair and easy smile.

“Hey, sorry I’m late—” Kirishima’s voice called before he even fully stepped inside. He jogged toward her, dropping his bag near hers. “Didn’t think you’d beat me here today. You’re getting serious, huh?”

Kaia gave a small grin, rolling her shoulders out as she stood tall from her last stance. “Festival’s coming up. Gotta be sharp, right?”

Before Kirishima could respond, the gym doors swung open again — this time a little more forcefully.

Both of them glanced over to see Katsuki stepping inside, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual scowl in place. He didn’t say anything at first, just gave the two a sharp glance as he leaned against the wall near the door.

Kirishima blinked, surprised. “Bakugo? Thought you were training with Kaminari today.”

“Tch. Change of plans.” Katsuki muttered, his voice low but lacking its usual bite. His eyes flicked toward Kaia, resting just briefly on the faint scar near her eye, before glancing away.

Kaia arched a brow, folding her arms loosely. “Didn’t think you’d drop in for one of our sessions.”

Katsuki huffed, pushing off the wall. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to work.”

Kirishima let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Well, the more the merrier, I guess. Let’s run drills, the usual?”

Kaia exchanged a glance with Katsuki — a quiet, unspoken truce hanging in the air — before nodding. “Yeah. Let’s get started.”

The three fell into an easy, if competitive, rhythm.

Kirishima worked on his hardening reflexes while Kaia sharpened her footwork, flowing through her Hung Gar stances between drills. Katsuki mostly stayed silent, pushing himself through strength training at first, but it didn’t take long for the old, sharp-edged banter to slip back into the air.

“Your stance is still too stiff, Pebbles,” Katsuki grumbled after watching Kaia hold one of her solid forms for a beat too long during a pivot.

Kaia shot him a dry look, planting her feet even firmer into the ground. “It’s called discipline, Blasty. You should try it sometime.”

Kirishima chuckled under his breath, stretching out his arms. “Man, I missed this. You two sniping at each other.”

The afternoon rolled on with Katsuki eventually joining in on their paired reaction drills, the tension that had followed them around since USJ softening just a little more. The three shifted into a mock sparring rotation, switching partners after a set number of strikes.

When it was Kaia and Katsuki’s turn, the two circled each other with quiet focus. No quirks, just movement, and instinct.

Katsuki broke the silence first, his voice low, but without the usual bite. “That scar suits you, y’know.”

Kaia raised an eyebrow, her fists loose but ready. “You’ve got a real weird way of giving compliments.”

He didn’t answer — just lunged forward with a calculated strike that she deflected, the two exchanging blows and dodges in smooth succession. No anger. No heavy words. Just two old friends testing each other like they used to.

Eventually, Kirishima called out from the side, flopping onto the gym floor dramatically. “Okay, okay, I surrender — I need water before I turn to stone.”

Kaia stepped back, catching her breath and wiping the back of her neck with her sleeve. Katsuki tilted his head, his usual smirk flickering just faintly at the corners.

“Same time tomorrow?” Kirishima asked, already knowing the answer.

Kaia gave a short nod, glancing between the two boys. “Yeah. One more day of prep.”

As they packed up, Katsuki lingered near the door, waiting for her while Kirishima ran ahead. As Kaia slung her bag over her shoulder, she glanced at him sideways.

“Hey,” he started, voice gruff but steady. “You’ve been training hard. You’ll crush the festival.”

Kaia blinked, a little surprised by the genuine tone, but smiled. “You too, Katsuki.”

Without another word, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off, leaving Kaia standing there with a quiet sense of pride and something she hadn’t felt in a while — hope.

Chapter Text

This was it — the morning of the U.A. Sports Festival.

The class waiting room buzzed with excitement, nerves, and way too much energy for Kaia’s liking. As much as she hated to admit it, her stomach was twisted in knots. Even after all her training — the long hours at the agency, the late nights practicing with Kirishima, the sparring matches with Katsuki — the weight of the festival pressed down on her chest like a boulder.

Her bare feet rested against the smooth floor, her sneakers sitting loosely beside her. Kaia usually had no trouble tuning out her seismic sense unless she called on it, but today her nerves had left her unfocused. Every single footstep, the shifting of weight, the restless tapping of fingers, the spike of heartbeats around her — it was all rolling through her like tiny waves.

Kirishima was pacing, his boots pressing a steady rhythm into the ground, his heartbeat hammering with both excitement and nerves. Katsuki, though sitting across the room, was as sharp and tense as ever — his heartbeat spiked but steady, like a fuse waiting to ignite.

Izuku, off to the side with Uraraka and Iida, was scribbling frantically in his notebook, his energy buzzing so hard Kaia could practically feel the vibrations through the soles of her feet.

She tried to shake it off, pulling her feet up onto the bench, folding her legs under her to block the connection for a moment.

Get it together, she told herself, exhaling through her nose.

Katsuki glanced her way, sharp eyes flicking over her as if he could sense her unease, but — in true Bakugo fashion — he didn’t say a word. Just leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, and let the silence pass between them. Somehow, that helped. Just knowing he wasn’t running his mouth gave her a small anchor.

Izuku finally looked up from his notebook and caught her eye across the room. He gave her an encouraging smile, one she returned — even if only slightly.

The room's intercom crackled to life, Present Mic’s voice blasting through with his usual over-the-top energy, announcing the start of the opening ceremony.

Kaia stood, slipping her shoes back on and grounding herself. One deep breath, and the nerves settled just a little.

You’ve trained for this. You belong here.

The class started filing out, one by one, toward the stadium tunnel. As Kaia walked, she brushed past Katsuki, and he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to catch:

“Don’t freeze up now.”

A dry smile tugged at her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, they stepped into the sunlight, the roar of the crowd washing over them like a tidal wave.

The energy in the stadium was electric — the stands packed with spectators, the air buzzing with excitement, and the weight of every student's hopes and nerves hanging heavy in the spring sunshine. The first-year classes stood gathered in the center field, a sea of brightly coloured uniforms and determined faces.

The roar of the crowd only seemed to get louder as TV cameras zoomed in from every angle, catching close-ups of the students and scanning the field. Kaia’s heartbeat pulsed steadily in her ears, but her seismic sense kept her grounded. The vibrations of stomping feet, shifting bodies, and flashing camera shutters all melted into the background the moment she tilted her head upward — and spotted them.

In the VIP section, seated among the sea of pro heroes and school officials, her parents stood out easily. Amara looked effortlessly stylish even in her casual outfit, her hair tied back neatly, waving with a proud but calm smile. Beside her, Zaire stood tall, dressed sharp in his hero uniform — the same one Kaia had grown up seeing, now crisp and shining under the sun for the public eye. His arms were folded across his chest, but the small, proud tilt of his head and the familiar way he met her eyes let Kaia know he was locked in — watching her, believing in her.

Her nerves eased just a bit.

Even in a crowd this big, her family’s steady presence was enough to ground her.

She caught herself smiling faintly before glancing away — she had a job to do.

Present Mic’s voice boomed over the stadium speakers, kicking the event off with his usual flashy enthusiasm, and the students all snapped to attention as the pro hero Midnight strolled onto the field, heels clicking sharply against the pavement, ready to announce the first event.

Kaia inhaled deeply, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. She could feel Katsuki standing somewhere off to her left, his energy like a live wire, and just ahead, Izuku shifting anxiously on his feet.

This was it — no turning back now.

As the roar of the crowd dimmed, Midnight raised her hand for silence, her voice slicing through the buzz like a blade.

"Now then, before we kick off the U.A. Sports Festival, it’s time for the student representative to lead the pledge!" she called, turning her sharp smile toward the waiting students. "Katsuki Bakugo — step on up!"

The spotlight slid over to where Katsuki stood, hands buried deep in his pockets. He moved forward with his usual swagger, the quiet turning tense with expectation. Most expected a formal speech, or at least something halfway respectful. But the moment he reached the mic, Bakugo grabbed it with one hand and barked:

"I’m gonna win. That’s it."

A beat of stunned silence followed.

And then — a wave of groans, laughter, and jeers from the other classes. Boos echoed from the General Studies section, sharp remarks from Business students, even a few playful hisses from the Support Course. The Hero Course students mostly sighed, some shaking their heads while others — like Kaminari and Kirishima — chuckled, already used to their classmate’s brand of arrogance.

Kaia stood toward the middle of the pack, arms loosely crossed, her lips twitching with a knowing smile. Same old Katsuki. She wasn’t even mad, but her seismic sense picked up the spike in his heartbeat — pride, mixed with stubborn resolve.

Midnight stepped forward again, undeterred by the noise. "Thank you, Bakugo!" she said, voice dripping with mischief. "And now — onto the first event!"

Her gloved hand gestured wide to the digital board overhead as it lit up in bold letters:

Obstacle Race!

Cheers and whispers spread across the field.

"This year’s preliminaries will be an obstacle race around the stadium!" Midnight announced, pacing the length of the field. "All first-year students — that includes Hero Course, General Studies, Business, and Support — will be competing together. The rules are simple: anything goes! Just make it to the finish line."

Kaia could feel the adrenaline sharpen in her chest. Her bare feet adjusted against the ground automatically, anchoring her. The air around her was already pulsing with the tension of her classmates — ready to sprint, ready to win.

Katsuki stretched his shoulders lazily, eyes burning with the same cocky fire as always, while Izuku shifted on his feet, deep in thought, likely analyzing all possible strategies before the race even began.

Kaia exhaled, steady and sure.

This was the real start.

And as the students moved toward the starting gate, Kaia flexed her fingers at her sides, already feeling the earth’s quiet hum beneath her — waiting to answer when the moment was right.

The starting gate loomed ahead like a caged beast, holding back nearly a hundred eager first-year students across all departments. The tension in the air was sharp enough to cut steel.

Kaia shifted her stance, feet bare against the cold ground, every muscle in her body relaxed — but ready. Her eyes were half-lidded, blocking out the sound of the crowd and the bright flashes from the cameras. The only thing she focused on was the earth’s steady, familiar heartbeat beneath her soles.

Her seismic sense stretched wide, feeling for the terrain beyond the starting line. The course wasn’t just flat — she could tell that much already. Sharp shifts in elevation, odd pressure dips that hinted at traps or unstable surfaces, and the distant rumble of moving obstacles.

I’ve got this.

Midnight raised her whip in the air, her voice cutting through the roar of the crowd.

"Ready…"

Kaia felt Katsuki’s heartbeat to her left — spiking, all aggression and confidence. Izuku’s just behind her — fast, but steady, thinking ahead.

"Set…"

A small, slow inhale, locking herself into balance.

"GO!"

The explosion of bodies surging forward was immediate — students scrambling for position, quirks flaring to life in bursts of fire, ice, propulsion, and speed. Kaia didn’t rush. While the others charged, she slammed her foot into the ground with purpose, sending a thin wave of her power rippling ahead like sonar.

The earth whispered back — the first obstacle was close.

Just ahead, a wave of gigantic robot exosuits — the same ones used in their entrance exam — lumbered into the path, weapons primed, arms swiping wildly at anything that came near.

Kaia bent her knees and sprinted forward, weaving between the crowd and angling herself toward the open patches the robots hadn’t covered. As one bot swung its metal arm at her, Kaia planted her heel, shifting the earth beneath her feet. A sharp stone pillar burst from the ground, altering the robot’s swing just enough for her to slip under the arm and roll clear.

She barely broke stride, feeling the ground pulse under each robot’s weight as they stomped after students. Her seismic sense mapped the chaos around her in perfect clarity — every footfall, every shifting stone, every crack of metal on concrete.

She saw Katsuki rocket into the air out of the corner of her eye, palms sparking as he blasted past the worst of the robot cluster. Izuku was ahead too, using a combination of analysis and instinct to slip through the danger, but Kaia wasn’t worried about catching up.

Her feet hit the ground hard once more, sending out another shockwave. Up ahead, the terrain shifted — a ravine.

With no hesitation, she lifted both hands as she ran, and the earth answered. A narrow stone bridge jutted up beneath her, sturdy and strong, allowing her to cross the gap as the others scrambled for footing or leaped in desperation.

She let her seismic sense do the guiding, using it like a second pair of eyes. Every vibration, every twitch in the earth told her exactly when to duck, jump, or shift. When a minefield section came up next, Kaia slowed just enough to send a pulse out, marking every pressure-sensitive plate embedded in the dirt. She adjusted her path, stepping only on safe ground.

Her heartbeat was steady, her mind clear. This wasn’t just about speed — it was about control, and the earth was her oldest ally.

The race had only just begun, but Kaia was locked in.

And she wasn’t about to let fear or nerves stop her now.

As Kaia cleared the section, her feet barely touched the earth before she felt a sharp, biting shift ripple through the ground. Her seismic sense caught it before her eyes did — a cold, unnatural crackle that spread like wildfire ahead.

Ice.

And not just any ice — Todoroki’s.

Shoto had taken the lead, his signature quirk freezing the entire stretch of the course beyond the minefield. Thick sheets of ice climbed over the landscape, freezing the ground solid and trapping students unlucky enough to be caught mid-step.

Kaia skidded to a stop just at the edge of the frost, her breath fogging in the sudden temperature drop. The earth beneath the ice still whispered to her, but its voice was muted, dulled by the layer of cold.

She crouched low, one palm pressing flat against the frost-covered earth.

The ground’s still there — just buried.

Her mind sharpened, adapting on instinct. She could feel Todoroki’s cold aura lingering on the path, but the ice itself was brittle underneath the right pressure. He had expanded his attack wide, but the thickness wasn’t perfect.

Kaia shifted her footing, adjusted her balance, and sent a controlled pulse through the ground. The earth responded under the ice, rising in subtle mounds beneath the frozen sheet — creating a jagged, uneven path of raised cracks.

Using the ridges like stepping stones, Kaia dashed forward. Her bare feet gripped the icy peaks while the earth nudged and shifted underneath to correct her footing whenever the ice threatened to send her sliding.

She weaved through the frozen obstacles, keeping her movements fluid and controlled. The other students either skidded, fell, or were forced to slow down entirely — but Kaia moved with ease, treating the terrain like a puzzle rather than a wall.

Halfway through, one of the larger cracks in the ice began to give way beneath her. The moment her seismic sense picked it up, she reacted — lifting both hands and pulling a small pillar of earth through the thin layer of ice, launching herself forward in a controlled leap toward solid ground just beyond the frozen field.

She landed hard, crouched and steady, and allowed herself one breath to center before continuing the sprint.

Up ahead, Katsuki was a blur of explosions, carving his own path through the course — while Todoroki, cold and calculating, glided across his own ice like it was second nature.

But Kaia wasn’t falling behind.

She was still in this — and the earth hadn’t failed her yet.

Kaia’s legs were burning, but her resolve was strong. She had powered through the worst of the ice and now, the last stretch was upon her. The sound of the other contestants was muffled under the rush of her blood in her ears, and the rhythmic thud of her shoes pounding the earth. Her seismic sense remained sharp, each vibration she felt telling her exactly where the other students were and how far ahead or behind they were.

Up ahead, she could hear Bakugo’s explosive bursts; the fire and fury of his quirk were unmistakable. Todoroki’s cool, collected pace never faltered, and his ice created an imposing wall as he moved forward, maintaining his lead. But there was one thing Kaia had that they didn’t — the earth. And that was going to be her advantage in these final moments.

The finish line was in sight. The course twisted into a sharp, uphill slope covered in rocks and rubble, with a final jump across a chasm before they’d cross the finish line.

She caught a glimpse of Todoroki nearing the jump. He was already preparing, a frozen platform lifting him up. He’d cross it easily, but she had her own way to deal with it.

As she approached, Kaia focused her quirk. She pushed herself harder than before, her feet pounding as she pushed forward, catching up to the top three. The final stretch was here. The jump.

The earth whispered beneath her, and she felt it — the ground was loose and uneven, but that wouldn’t slow her down. Her seismic sense told her exactly where the safest places to land were, even as the other students struggled.

Kaia took a deep breath and focused on the vibrations beneath her feet. She was barely ten feet from the chasm when she launched herself into the air, using her bending to pull the earth up beneath her in a burst of solid strength. The jump wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

She landed with a grunt, but her feet found solid ground before she could slip. The distance between her and the others narrowed. Izuku was still ahead, his determination and quick thinking giving him the edge. Todoroki was close behind, his ice keeping him steady, and Bakugo’s explosive bursts were pulling him forward. But Kaia wasn’t far behind them.

The crowd’s roar seemed distant. All Kaia could focus on now was the final sprint to the finish. Faster. Just a little more.

With one final burst of speed, she charged the last few meters, pushing her body beyond its limits. Her seismic sense was in overdrive, guiding her toward the finish line as she pushed herself past the fatigue.

She crossed the line, breath ragged, body screaming in protest.

And just as she caught her breath, she heard the announcement. Fourth place.

Kaia’s heart skipped. Fourth. She did it.

Izuku had claimed first, a well-deserved win, followed by Todoroki in second, and Bakugo in third. The other students finished in quick succession, but Kaia had placed in the top five, a huge achievement for someone who’d been recovering from injuries only days before.

Her friends cheered from the sidelines. Kirishima gave her a thumbs-up, and Momo clapped enthusiastically. Izuku’s eyes were shining with pride, and even Katsuki, in his usual grumpy way, gave her a silent nod of acknowledgment.

Kaia stood there for a moment, breathless but exhilarated, as she glanced over at her parents in the VIP section. Her mom’s face was alight with pride, while her dad gave her a short, approving nod.

She had done it — and it was only the beginning.

*****

Midnight’s voice echoed through the stadium, her usual calm but firm tone reaching every student’s ears as she stood before them. “Alright, the results from the obstacle race are in, and the standings are as follows!” she began, her eyes scanning the crowd, a flicker of amusement in her gaze as the students braced themselves for the next challenge.

“The top 40 from this race will move on to the next event, the Cavalry Battle,” Midnight continued, her tone picking up with the excitement of the announcement. “But before we move on, let’s take a look at the standings.”

As the digital board lit up, the rankings were displayed for everyone to see:

1. Izuku Midoriya — 10 million points
2. Shoto Todoroki — 7 million points
3. Katsuki Bakugo — 6 million points
4. Kaia Mikage — 5 million points
5. Eijiro Kirishima — 4.5 million points
6. Momo Yaoyorozu — 4 million points
7. Denki Kaminari — 3.5 million points
8. Fumikage Tokoyami — 3 million points
   ...and so on until the top 40 were revealed.

Kaia felt a sense of pride as her name appeared in 4th place, but she knew the true challenge was yet to come. The Cavalry Battle was a whole new dynamic, and as Midnight continued to speak, she could feel the tension in the air.

“Now, for the second event!” Midnight raised her hand, directing everyone’s attention to the massive screen that displayed the rules. “The Cavalry Battle. In this event, you’ll be forming teams of two to four students. Teams will earn points based on the combined worth of their members, and you can earn points by stealing headbands from other teams. The point value of each team member is based on their placement in the obstacle race.”

A murmur of surprise ran through the students. Kaia quickly scanned the crowd, catching the glint in Izuku’s eyes. He’s the biggest target now. Her seismic sense buzzed with the energy around him — the other students were already strategizing, figuring out ways to take down the top scorer.

Midnight continued, “You’ll have 20 minutes to form your teams, so start thinking quickly. The battle will begin shortly after. You can’t go at it alone, so choose wisely. Remember, the strength of your team is determined by the collective points of all its members.”

Kaia’s mind immediately went into overdrive. Who would she team up with? She glanced over at the other top-ranking students — Todoroki, Bakugo, and Izuku, all of whom had earned the highest points. But Izuku had the most attention on him now.

Izuku, in particular, was looking around, a slight anxiety creeping into his features. He had won first place, which was a huge achievement, but now it seemed like a double-edged sword. His position made him the biggest target for everyone else.

"Ten million points,” Kaia thought, her seismic sense picking up on the chatter and calculated plans around her. “Everyone is going to go after him.”

Izuku scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing the situation himself. “I... I didn’t think this through,” he muttered to himself, watching as various students approached him with calculating eyes.

“Guess you’re gonna be in the hot seat now, Deku,” Kaia muttered to herself, though she couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He wasn’t used to the spotlight in such a competitive environment, especially when the spotlight meant everyone else targeting him. She could tell from his heartbeat — it was spiking.

With the teams about to form, Kaia took a deep breath. Her mind was already turning. She wasn’t about to let herself get caught up in the chaos of last-minute team-picking. She needed to choose wisely too.

As she began looking around for potential teammates, Kaia felt the pressure building. But in the back of her mind, she already knew the strategy. Teaming up with her friends could be the best bet — but she also knew that they couldn’t just rely on their bonds to win. They needed balance, and they needed to think ahead.

As Kaia surveyed the field, trying to pick her next move and gauge the atmosphere, she felt a presence approach from behind. Her seismic sense immediately picked up the vibrations, a calm, controlled aura she recognized — Shoto Todoroki.

"Hey, Mikage," Todoroki's voice was cool, but there was a hint of thoughtfulness in his tone. "Want to team up for the Cavalry Battle?"

Kaia turned to face him, surprised but not unpleased. Todoroki was always someone who kept to himself, and while they didn’t always talk much, they had worked together in the past during different training sessions. She could tell that he wasn’t the type to make alliances unless he thought it through, so this wasn’t a decision he made lightly.

She glanced around the arena again, her eyes lingering on Izuku, who was still being swarmed by students looking for a way to form alliances. Kaia knew he would need to be protected, but her own game in the Cavalry Battle was just as important.

Todoroki, on the other hand, was a solid choice — he was strong, reliable, and with his mix of fire and ice, he’d be a formidable force in this event. They didn’t have the same kind of relationship like the one she had with Izuku and Katsuki growing up, but Todoroki was someone she could trust in a battle like this.

"Yeah," Kaia nodded after a moment’s pause, the decision clicking in her mind. "That sounds like a good idea."

Her eyes met his, and for a brief second, they shared an unspoken understanding — this wasn’t about friendship, it was about strategy. And sometimes, it was better to work with someone who didn’t come with baggage or expectations.

Todoroki’s face remained stoic, but Kaia could feel the relief in his heartbeat as she agreed. "Good. Let’s get to work," he said, his eyes scanning the arena to see if anyone else was making moves.

Kaia knew this was the right choice. She could count on Todoroki, and together, they would have a good chance in the next round.

But, as they turned to start organizing their strategy, Kaia couldn’t help but wonder how the others were faring. How many others had already paired up? The 20-minute window for teams was almost up, and she had a feeling the intensity of the next event was going to skyrocket.

"Alright," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. "Let's not get too cocky. We need to think about how we can handle the other teams. Especially the ones that are going after Izuku."

Todoroki nodded, his eyes sharp. "I agree. We can’t let our guard down."

Kaia and Todoroki quickly began scanning the field once more, trying to assess the situation. They needed two more members for their team if they were going to have a good chance in the Cavalry Battle. Kaia knew that the team needed to be balanced—strong enough to defend, quick enough to capture headbands, and strategic enough to work under pressure.

Her first thought was Momo Yaoyorozu. She had the ability to create nearly anything from her body, which could be incredibly useful for a variety of situations. Whether it was constructing barriers, weapons, or creating distractions, Momo’s versatile quirk would make her an excellent asset to the team. Plus, she was intelligent and always thinking ahead, making her a natural planner.

Todoroki, ever the tactician, nodded as he turned to Kaia. "Momo would be a good addition," he agreed. "Her quirk would be a huge help."

The second person Kaia thought of was Denki Kaminari. He was often underestimated because of his somewhat goofy personality, but Kaia had seen him in action. His electric quirk could provide them with a variety of uses—whether it was disabling other teams' tech, creating a diversion, or temporarily shocking opponents to throw them off balance. Plus, Denki was a natural in chaotic environments, and the Cavalry Battle was bound to get messy.

"We should also ask Kaminari," Kaia said, knowing Denki’s personality could bring a certain unpredictability to the team that might work in their favour. "His quirk might not seem like much at first, but he can cause some serious disruption if used right."

Todoroki nodded again, his eyes scanning the class as he adjusted his posture. "Let’s go."

The two made their way toward Momo, who was already talking with a few others near the entrance to the arena. She looked up as they approached, offering a polite smile.

"Momo," Todoroki began, his voice steady but polite, "We’re forming a team for the Cavalry Battle. Would you be interested in joining us?"

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly considering the proposition. "Hmm... I’ve heard some people are already forming teams, but I’d be happy to help. I think it would be a good challenge." She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the group. "Alright, I’m in."

"Great!" Kaia responded, pleased with the decision. "Now, we just need one more."

As they turned, Kaia spotted Denki standing with a couple of students. He was clearly trying to figure out his next move, but Kaia could tell he was still a little unsure of who to approach. She gave Todoroki a quick nod before walking over to him.

"Hey, Kaminari!" Kaia called out, her voice light and friendly. "You looking for a team?"

Denki turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Kaia. "Oh hey, Mikage! Yeah, I’m kind of stuck right now. I wasn’t sure who to ask—everyone seems to already have their teams set up."

Todoroki appeared beside Kaia, his usual calm demeanor standing in contrast to Denki’s more laid-back energy. "We’re forming a team," Todoroki said plainly, his eyes scanning Denki thoughtfully. "You’re in?"

Denki looked between them, his face breaking into a wide grin. "You bet I am! This sounds like it’s gonna be awesome."

With that, their team was complete. Shoto, Kaia, Momo, and Denki. A diverse group, but one with a good balance of strengths—ranging from Momo’s versatile creation abilities to Denki’s surprise tactics, Kaia’s seismic sense and earthbending, and Shoto’s control over both ice and fire.

As the clock ticked down, the team quickly started to discuss their strategy for the battle. The next few minutes were crucial. The others would be forming teams, and once the battle began, the clock would be ticking. They would need to move quickly and work together to secure the best chance of victory.

With their roles decided, Kaia and her team quickly started to strategize the flow of the Cavalry Battle. It was clear that their team had a unique setup, and each person’s quirk would complement the others in interesting ways.

Kaia would be the rider, using her seismic sense to detect anyone who might be trying to ambush or flank them. She could sense the vibrations in the ground, giving her a unique advantage in avoiding other teams and identifying when someone was closing in. This would give her the crucial edge in maintaining their position and avoiding surprise attacks.

Shoto, with his cool, calculated demeanor, would be the one to grab the headbands. Positioned on Kaia’s shoulders, he could use his ice to create barriers, freeze opponents, or even skate across the field for quicker movements. His precise control over ice made him a formidable asset in a high-stakes, fast-paced battle like this.

Momo, with her intellectual prowess and versatile creation quirk, would be on Kaia’s left side, always ready to create tools or weapons as needed. Whether it was to form a barrier to defend against incoming attacks, create gadgets to incapacitate other teams, or throw out strategic distractions, Momo’s ability to create anything she could think of would make her an incredibly valuable support player.

Denki, who could be unpredictable but reliable when it counted, would be positioned on Kaia’s right side. His electric quirk had a lot of potential in this event. Whether it was disabling other teams’ technology, creating a diversion by shocking the ground, or briefly incapacitating enemies, Denki’s chaotic energy would throw off other teams’ strategies, buying Kaia and Todoroki the precious time they needed.

As the countdown began for the Cavalry Battle to start, the team huddled up for a quick last-minute strategy session.

"Alright," Kaia said, her voice steady, despite the nerves bubbling up inside her. "I’ll keep track of the vibrations and let you know if we’ve got anyone approaching. My goal is to keep us out of range of the biggest threats, so keep your eyes sharp, everyone."

Todoroki nodded, pulling on his gloves, his focus already unwavering. "I’ll handle the headbands," he said calmly. "We need to make sure to stay on the move. Don’t let anyone corner us."

Momo smiled, her confidence shining through. "I’ll create whatever’s needed. I’ve got your backs."

Denki gave a thumbs up, his expression one of determination mixed with excitement. "I’ll be ready to shock some people out of the way if they get too close."

Kaia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her role but also the trust in her teammates. "Let’s do this. Keep close, and watch for any signs of danger."

With their strategy in place, the teams were called to take their starting positions. Kaia felt the surge of anticipation in the air as the other students readied themselves, their hearts pounding with adrenaline.

The buzzer sounded, and the first wave of chaos erupted across the battlefield.

As Kaia activated her seismic sense, she immediately felt the ground vibrating from the other teams moving, but one vibration stood out—a larger, faster set of vibrations coming directly toward them. She quickly relayed the info to Todoroki.

"Three teams closing in on us from the left," she said, her voice calm despite the adrenaline rushing through her. "We need to move or set up a defence."

Todoroki nodded and immediately shot ice down the path, creating a barrier behind them while skating ahead to position himself for the first grab. "Cover our backs, Momo. Denki, be ready."

Momo reacted instantly, creating a shield to block incoming attacks from another team. At the same time, Denki crouched, preparing to unleash a burst of electricity if anyone tried to get too close.

As Kaia led the way, she could feel her connection to the ground intensifying. Her seismic sense was practically a sixth sense now, alerting her to every movement, every shift in the terrain, and every footstep approaching them. She kept them weaving through the chaos of the battlefield, avoiding groups and detecting threats before they could reach them.

Todoroki, with his ice barriers and swift movements, was a natural at grabbing headbands, picking them off from unsuspecting teams while avoiding confrontations when necessary. The duo's teamwork was seamless, with Momo’s creation of small devices to confuse and trap opponents while Denki provided the distractions that kept teams on edge.

Despite the intensity of the battle, Kaia found herself feeling confident in her team's coordination. They worked like a well-oiled machine, anticipating each other's moves and covering each other’s weaknesses.

*****

With the battlefield bustling with activity, Kaia’s team quickly realized that targeting teams with fewer points would give them a strategic advantage. By stealing headbands from weaker teams, they could increase their point total without having to face the top competitors head-on just yet.

Kaia’s seismic sense worked overtime as she scanned the terrain. She could feel multiple teams' movements through the vibrations in the ground, sensing which ones were closer to their point totals and which ones were easier to pick off.

"Alright," Kaia said, her voice steady as she looked over her shoulder at her teammates. "There are two teams coming in from the right. One of them has only a few points. We can take them down."

Todoroki’s eyes sharpened with determination, ready for action. "I’ll keep them off balance with ice, but we need to move fast. If we take their headbands, we’ll push ourselves up."

Momo, always calm under pressure, nodded. "I’ll create traps to slow them down if they put up any resistance."

Denki grinned, showing his eagerness. "I’ll zap anyone who gets too close. Let’s make this quick."

The team’s plan was set. Kaia led the way, manoeuvring through the rocky terrain while using her seismic sense to detect the movements of the target team. She felt the rhythmic footsteps of their competitors, their hurried pace telling her they were anxious about being cornered.

"Approaching from the left, Kaia," Momo said as she surveyed their surroundings. "They’re coming up on us faster than expected."

Kaia’s heart raced, but she focused on the vibrations beneath her feet. "We’ll meet them head-on. Get ready."

Todoroki set his stance, his ice already at the ready. As soon as the other team came into view, he shot out a long stream of ice, freezing the ground and blocking their path. The opposition skidded to a halt, shocked by the sudden barrier.

Denki immediately took advantage, sending a jolt of electricity into the ground, sending a warning shot that made the other team flinch. "They won’t know what hit them!" he shouted, a grin on his face.

With the team momentarily disoriented, Kaia charged forward, her seismic sense pinpointing the exact location of the headbands. She could feel the pulse of their competitors' hearts, the tension in the air, and she knew this was their moment.

Todoroki skated ahead, using his ice to quickly glide toward the closest target. He grabbed the headband of the opponent in front of him, ripping it off in one smooth motion and tossing it back to Kaia.

"One down," Todoroki said, his expression focused.

"Keep pushing," Kaia urged. "We can get the others, too."

Momo, ready for anything, created a small barricade of ice and gadgets to trap the remaining opponents. Denki charged forward, releasing another surge of electricity to confuse them even further. The teamwork was flawless, their combined quirks working in perfect harmony.

Within moments, the second headband was theirs. The opposition was quickly scattered, unable to handle the combined pressure of Kaia’s seismic sense, Momo’s creations, Shoto’s ice, and Denki’s electric attacks.

"That should put us in a solid position," Kaia said, now feeling a bit more confident. "Let’s get back on the move before anyone realizes what happened."

They quickly retreated from the scene, weaving through the battlefield to avoid other teams, Kaia still using her seismic sense to keep track of their surroundings.

As they moved forward, their points had definitely increased, and they were now a bigger target for others. But with their teamwork, they could hold their own, and Kaia was confident that their next move would be just as successful.

As Kaia’s team continued to rack up points, the atmosphere began to shift. They’d made a real mark in the competition, and now it was time to face a team that would really put them to the test. The next team they encountered was none other than Izuku’s—comprising him, Uraraka, Tokoyami, and Mei Hatsume.

The two groups met in the center of the field, a tense moment hanging between them. Izuku waved sheepishly, but his eyes were sharp. "I’m sorry, Kaia," he said, sounding a bit nervous. "We’re gonna have to take those headbands."

"Bring it on, Midoriya," Todoroki retorted, his voice full of competitive fire.

Kaia stood at the back of their formation, her seismic sense still sharp as ever. She could feel the energy from Izuku’s team radiating across the ground. Her heart skipped slightly as she felt the familiar, frantic pulse from Izuku—he was serious. But then, she noticed something strange. A shift in the vibrations beneath her feet.

Her left shoulder was growing warmer by the second, like heat rising from a furnace. Kaia glanced up and saw the faintest flicker of flame coming from Todoroki's left side, his ice cracking at the edges. The tension between them was undeniable. She could feel Todoroki's growing frustration—a pull of heat and ice, the two sides threatening to collide as his temper rose.

Todoroki’s eyes were locked on Izuku, and his expression was icy but edged with something more volatile, a slight flare of anger hidden beneath his stoic demeanor.

"Don't think you can just walk away with this, Deku!" Todoroki snapped, his words colder than usual.

Kaia felt her pulse race as she saw the familiar smoke rising from Todoroki’s left side. She was about to step in when she realized just how close they were to blowing up. Izuku’s team was on edge, and she could feel the anxiety spiking in Izuku’s heartbeat. He wasn’t backing down, and Todoroki was clearly itching for a fight.

Before Kaia could move, her seismic sense picked up a strong, sharp vibration coming from the surrounding students—an announcement had been made. The buzzer sounded loud and clear, cutting through the chaos.

“Time’s up!”

The sudden interruption caused both teams to freeze, the tension in the air palpable as the moment was ripped from their hands. Kaia blinked, still feeling the heat from Todoroki’s side but relieved it had not escalated further. It was too close for comfort, but they had made it.

The screen above flashed, showing the results of the Cavalry Battle. Kaia’s team had taken first place. Her heart swelled with pride and relief as she realized they had successfully outranked the others with a solid point total. The crowd erupted into applause, and her team exchanged quick smiles and nods.

“We did it!” Denki cheered, punching the air as his electric grin filled his face.

Momo looked at Kaia, a proud smile on her face. “Good job, everyone. That was an intense battle.”

Todoroki gave a small nod, his usual stoic expression not betraying much, but Kaia could tell he was glad they had managed to hold it together.

Kaia felt a slight weight lift off her shoulders. "Yeah... we did it. But Izuku’s team was tough. I could feel it from him."

“Midoriya’s always tough,” Todoroki said, his voice still calm, though there was a hint of something different in his tone. "But we played it smart. Now we move on."

Kaia glanced over to where Izuku’s team stood. Despite their loss, Izuku was smiling, and Uraraka gave her a thumbs-up. Kaia gave her a soft smile in return, sensing the friendly competition still burning in Izuku’s chest.

The buzzer’s sound was still ringing in her ears as the next round approached. The battle wasn’t over yet, but Kaia felt a surge of confidence now. Her team was a force to be reckoned with, and she had the power to sense every movement and vibration, giving them the edge they needed.

“Let’s keep this momentum going,” Kaia said, her eyes focused and determined. “We’ve got this.”

With a final look at Izuku and the others, Kaia turned back to her team, ready for whatever the next event would throw at them.

As the buzzer rang for the end of the Cavalry Battle, the announcer’s voice echoed across the field. Midnight, standing tall in her signature outfit, announced the next phase with a smile that suggested both excitement and a little mischief.

"Alright, students! You've earned yourselves a well-deserved break. We'll reconvene in one hour to announce the final sixteen for the one-on-one battles. You’ll have 45 minutes after that to prepare for your matchups!" she said, her voice carrying across the field. "Rest up, eat, hydrate, and make sure you're ready for the next round of this year's Sports Festival!"

Kaia took a deep breath, feeling the tension of the previous event finally start to ease from her shoulders. She could sense the collective energy of the students as they scattered, finding spots to relax and take a breather before the real challenges began.

Turning to her team, she smiled. “Nice work, everyone. We’ve got a good chance in this next round, but let's take a moment to prepare mentally. The one-on-one battles are gonna be tough.”

Todoroki gave a brief nod, his face as unreadable as ever, but Kaia could feel the intensity in his footsteps as he walked away to find a quiet spot to focus. Momo and Denki, on the other hand, were already talking strategy.

"I can't believe we're in the final sixteen already!" Momo said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "We need to make sure we’re all ready for the next round, no matter who we face."

Denki, ever the optimist, punched the air. "We've got this, guys! Just gotta focus and play to our strengths. Right?"

Kaia chuckled, appreciating Denki's energy. "Yeah, let’s make sure to stay sharp. These one-on-one matches are gonna be a different kind of fight. We don’t know who we’ll face yet, but we need to be ready for anything."

Kaia glanced around, seeing the other students milling about. Some were already discussing their strategies, while others were looking nervously at the clock, knowing that soon they would be thrust into their individual battles. The pressure of the festival was palpable, and even Kaia could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

She made her way to a quieter part of the field, where she could gather her thoughts. Her seismic sense allowed her to feel the slight vibrations of the ground beneath her, sensing the shifts in the atmosphere around her. It was a way for her to center herself before the battles began.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Kaia’s parents were observing the event with keen interest. Zaire was talking quietly with a few other pro heroes, while Amara sat with her arms crossed, her eyes occasionally drifting down to the field.

“They’re doing well, huh?” Amara said, her voice soft, though it carried a trace of pride.

Zaire nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Kaia in particular. “She’s always been strong, but this is different. She’s grown even more focused since the last time we saw her in action.”

Amara chuckled, her gaze softening. “She’s got your stubbornness. She’ll push through, no matter the challenge.”

Zaire smirked, watching Kaia interact with her team. "It’s that same fire. She doesn’t back down from anything."

*****

Kaia grabbed her lunch — a lovely meal her mother had packed for her that morning, still neatly tucked away in its bento box — and started making her way toward the VIP section where her parents were waiting. The quiet excitement of the morning’s events had settled, and now with the tension of the first two rounds behind her, her stomach finally reminded her it existed.

As she turned a corner near the upper stands, her pace slowed at the sight of two familiar figures standing in the hallway — Shoto Todoroki and his father, Endeavor.

She paused for half a second, her bare feet brushing the smooth stadium floor, and the shift in the air was enough for Shoto to glance her way. His posture was stiff, his expression as guarded as ever, but Kaia caught the slightest flicker of relief in his eyes when he saw her. Standing next to him, Endeavor loomed like a dark, overbearing shadow — his towering presence and sharp gaze every bit as suffocating as his reputation.

Kaia had never liked the number two hero. There wasn’t anything admirable about the man, not when you knew what Shoto had grown up with. She understood all too well why Shoto always looked like he wanted to set his father ablaze every time they crossed paths.

Still, her mother’s lessons on manners echoed in her head.

“Endeavor,” she greeted evenly, giving a short, polite bow — her voice calm but distant, measured.

Without waiting for a reply, she glanced at Shoto, offering him a small, knowing nod. Then, with her lunch still cradled in her hands, she quickly stepped past them, leaving the tense weight of Endeavor’s presence behind her.

The moment she rounded the corner, she let out a soft breath, shaking off the encounter as best she could. Whatever words had passed between father and son before she arrived, she could feel the lingering sharpness in the air. And as much as her curiosity prickled at her, she had no desire to stick around and hear any more.

Her parents were waiting — and that, at least, was something she could look forward to.

Kaia’s steps slowed for just a moment as the words hit her ears — sharp, heavy, and completely unwelcome.

“…a girl with a strong quirk like her is the kind you should be marrying.”

Endeavor’s voice, cold and calculated, echoed in the quiet space around the corner. Kaia’s jaw clenched, and she exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing herself to keep walking rather than whirl around and say something reckless. She wasn’t the type to pick a fight, especially not with someone like him — and especially not today.

She could only imagine the look on Shoto’s face. That same mix of silent fury and deep-rooted exhaustion, the kind she’d seen in his eyes more than once when the subject of his father came up. The two of them never spoke about it directly, but Kaia could feel it — the tension that always wrapped around Shoto when Endeavor was near.

“Typical,” Kaia muttered under her breath as she rounded the next corner, shaking the lingering discomfort from her shoulders.

When she reached the VIP section, her mood lightened the moment she spotted her parents. Amara waved her over with a warm smile, and Zaire — still suited up in his pro hero gear — gave her an approving nod.

“There’s our champion,” Amara teased as Kaia slid into the seat beside her, setting her bento down. “How are you feeling?”

Kaia forced a smile as she opened her lunch, the comfort of her mother’s cooking easing the tension that had settled in her chest. “Better now. Just ran into Endeavor on the way up.”

Zaire’s brow arched slightly, immediately reading between the lines. “Let me guess — he said something that rubbed you the wrong way.”

Kaia shrugged, popping a piece of tamagoyaki into her mouth. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. Just another reminder that some people only see quirks, not the person behind them.”

Amara reached over, gently placing a hand over hers. “You’re more than your quirk, Kaia. You’ve always known that.”

“I know.” Kaia offered a genuine smile this time, letting the moment of support wash over her. “Thanks, Mom.”

For the rest of the break, Kaia allowed herself to just be a kid again — no nerves, no pressure — enjoying the meal her mother had packed and the company of her family. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she could still hear Endeavor’s voice, and more than ever, she felt a quiet determination to prove herself on her own terms.

Not for power, not for status.

For herself.

Chapter Text

The sharp feedback of a microphone hummed through the stadium, quieting the buzzing chatter from both students and the crowd. Midnight’s sultry, commanding voice filled the air as the giant screens flickered to life above the arena.

“Well, well! I hope you’ve all enjoyed your lunch break!” she purred, flashing her signature grin. “Because it’s time to reveal the moment you’ve all been waiting for — the Final Sixteen Bracket for the U.A. Sports Festival’s one-on-one battles!”

The screen flashed as names slotted into place, bold and clear for all to see:

1. Midoriya Izuku vs. Shinso Hitoshi
2. Bakugo Katsuki vs. Uraraka Ochaco
3. Hatsume Mei vs. Iida Tenya
4. Tokoyami Fumikage vs. Yaoyorozu Momo
5. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu vs. Kirishima Eijiro
6. Todoroki Shoto vs. Sero Hanta
7. Shiozaki Ibara vs. Kaminari Denki
8. Mikage Kaia vs. Ashido Mina

Kaia stared up at the board, reading her name next to Mina’s. A mix of nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. She knew Mina would bring her A-game, and she wouldn’t expect anything less.

Midnight’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp but playful.

“All participants have 45 minutes to prepare for their matches! Rest, strategize, stretch, sharpen your nerves — whatever you need to do. Once the clock runs out, meet at the arena gates. We’ll see who rises, and who falls!”

The crowd roared, anticipation swelling in the air as students filed out of the stands, each one heading off to prepare for what was bound to be the most intense part of the festival yet.

Kaia wandered the halls of the stadium, her footsteps light and even as the minutes ticked down to her match. She wasn’t tapping into her seismic sense this time — conserving every bit of her strength and focus for when she’d need it most. The silence of the corridor was a rare comfort, until raised voices echoed from around the bend.

She paused, recognizing the sharp, familiar bark of Bakugo almost instantly. Curious, Kaia crept closer, peeking around the corner just in time to catch the tail end of the heated exchange.

Bakugo stood stiff, fists clenched at his sides, practically vibrating with frustration. Across from him, Izuku squared his shoulders — his voice steady, eyes burning with quiet determination.

“I don’t care what you say, Kacchan. I will surpass you.”

For a moment, Kaia just stood there, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Pride swelled in her chest seeing Izuku finally stand his ground — no stammering, no shrinking away. Just pure resolve.

Without thinking, Kaia stepped forward, swift and silent. In one smooth motion, she raised both hands and delivered two light chops to the boys’ heads.

Thwack. Thwack.

Both flinched in surprise, turning to look at her. She didn’t say a word, only raised an eyebrow at them — the universal “cut it out” glare — before the overhead speakers crackled to life with Present Mic’s voice booming across campus.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE! THE FIRST MATCH OF THE FINAL STAGE IS ABOUT TO BEGIN! IZUKU MIDORIYA, HITOSHI SHINSO — REPORT TO THE FIELD!”

Kaia glanced at Midoriya, her stern expression softening as she offered a small but genuine smile. “Good luck, Deku,” she said quietly.

Without waiting for a reply, she reached out and grabbed Bakugo by the sleeve, dragging him away from the hallway before his temper could flare again.

“Oi—! Kaia, what the hell—” Bakugo grumbled, but didn’t pull away, letting her steer him off as the buzz of the crowd began to build for the start of the match.

*****

The matches had been flying by, some ending in the blink of an eye, others sparking gasps and roars from the crowd with their close calls and unexpected twists. The energy in the stadium was electrifying, and Kaia could feel it humming through the ground beneath her feet. But now, all of that noise faded into the background as Present Mic’s voice rang out through the speakers.

“Mikage Kaia — Ashido Mina! To the field!”

A wave of both nerves and calm washed over her as she stood, her feet steady against the floor, and made her way through the tunnel. The sunlight hit her face as she stepped onto the open field, the sound of the crowd crashing against her like ocean waves. She walked forward with her usual quiet confidence, her bare feet brushing against the stone beneath her — her connection to the earth steady and unwavering.

Across the field stood Mina Ashido, her pink hair bright under the sun and her usual beaming grin plastered across her face. But Kaia could see the spark in her friend’s eyes — playful as always, but ready for a real fight.

They exchanged a nod, no need for words. Friends or not, this was still a battle.

Midnight raised her hand, the tension tightening in the air.

“Ready... begin!”

The buzzer sounded, and Mina wasted no time, launching herself forward with speed and fluidity. Acid coated the ground beneath her feet as she zipped and twisted around the arena like a streak of pink lightning, her body always in motion. The crowd roared in delight, following her every unpredictable turn.

Kaia didn’t rush. Instead, she stood still — centered. Her eyes slipped shut, shutting out the noise and the crowd, letting her senses stretch deep into the earth beneath her. Even without manipulating it, the vibrations told her everything. Every sharp twist of Mina’s foot, the sudden shifts in weight as her friend darted to one side then the next — all of it painted a perfect map in Kaia’s mind.

She waited. One heartbeat, two.

Then — movement.

With a sharp, controlled motion of her hand, Kaia bent the earth. The stone beneath Mina shot upward, surrounding her in thick, smooth walls. Before Mina had a chance to react, the rock wrapped around her like a cocoon, rising up to her shoulders and locking her in place, harmless but completely immobilized.

The crowd fell into stunned silence for a breath before bursting into cheers.

Midnight strolled toward Mina, tapping the stone lightly with her whip handle.

“Mina Ashido — can you move?”

Mina gave a sheepish grin, wiggling her shoulders against the stone. “Nope! Stuck good.”

Midnight lifted her hand, voice loud and clear for the whole stadium. “Winner — Kaia Mikage!”

Kaia exhaled softly, lowering her hands. With the same smooth control, she guided the stone to retreat back into the earth, freeing her friend. Mina stretched out her limbs and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Jeez, Kaia — you’ve gotten way too good at that,” Mina teased, bumping her shoulder against Kaia’s as they fell into step together.

Kaia let out a light laugh, the adrenaline still slowly ebbing away. “Next time, I’ll give you a warning.”

“Oh please,” Mina grinned, flipping her hair playfully. “Next time, I’m not going easy on you.”

Kaia glanced at her, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be ready.”

The two walked off the field side by side, the crowd still cheering behind them, both girls glowing with pride — win or lose, they had given it their all.

*****

Kaia climbed the steps back to the stands, her heart still buzzing from the excitement of her match. As soon as she reached the Class 1-A section, her classmates were already waiting, greeting her with cheers and wide grins.

“You were awesome out there, Kaia!” Uraraka beamed, giving her a playful nudge.

“That was a clean win — you didn’t even break a sweat,” Kaminari added, throwing her a thumbs-up.

Even Bakugo, arms crossed and scowling as always, gave her a sharp nod of acknowledgment. Coming from him, it meant more than words.

Kaia took her seat, the warmth of her friends’ support settling the last of her nerves. She glanced down at the arena just as Present Mic’s voice boomed across the stadium.

“And with that, folks — the first round is officially wrapped! What a start to these one-on-one battles!”

The giant screen above the stadium flickered, clearing the old bracket and replacing it with the new lineup. Midnight stepped forward, her sultry voice cutting through the excited chatter.

“Now let’s take a look at the matchups for Round Two!”

The screen lit up:

Second Round Battles:

1. Izuku Midoriya vs. Shoto Todoroki
2. Katsuki Bakugo vs. Eijiro Kirishima
3. Kaia Mikage vs. Ibara Shiozaki
4. Fumikage Tokoyami vs. Tenya Iida

Kaia’s gaze sharpened when her name appeared next to Shiozaki’s. She remembered the girl’s vine-like quirk from the earlier matches — graceful but deceptively dangerous. A quiet but fierce opponent.

As her classmates chattered about the upcoming matchups, Kaia stayed focused, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the seat's armrest, already thinking through strategies. Round two was only going to get harder from here.

From the stands, Kaia sat forward on the edge of her seat, her bare feet pressed firmly against the concrete, eyes sharp and focused as Midoriya and Todoroki squared off on the field below. The moment the match began, the air practically trembled with intensity.

Her seismic sense flared to life the second Todoroki unleashed his first ice attack — a massive, jagged wall that surged toward Midoriya like a frozen tidal wave. Kaia felt the shock of it ripple through the stadium floor, the vibrations humming sharp and clear through her bones. But before the ice could swallow the green-haired boy, Midoriya countered with a blast of One For All-powered air pressure, sending cracks spider-webbing through the frost and breaking it apart.

Every time Todoroki raised his hand to summon another ice strike, Kaia braced herself, the vibrations crashing against her like distant thunder. Midoriya met each one head-on, responding with raw force and unyielding determination. It was a clash of willpower as much as quirk strength, and Kaia couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Her heart pounded in rhythm with the chaos below. For as long as she’d known him, Midoriya had always been the quiet, observant type — but here he was, standing his ground against one of the strongest in their class, refusing to back down, refusing to give in. She could feel it in every stomp of his foot, every explosive movement — he wasn’t holding back.

A faint smile touched her lips, pride swelling in her chest. Whether or not he won, Midoriya was proving to the entire stadium that he belonged here. And in the heat of the battle, even Todoroki’s composure was beginning to waver, the flickers of flame threatening to escape his left side, the very side he swore never to use.

Kaia could only sit in awe, her body tuned to every quake and quiver of the arena, knowing this was a match no one would forget.

The battle raged on, the entire stadium holding its breath as Midoriya and Todoroki pushed each other to their limits. Kaia could feel the tension tightening like a wire, the ground trembling under the sheer force of their wills. Every stomp from Midoriya sent a concentrated quake through the earth, sharp and clean, while Todoroki’s ice attacks cracked and clawed at the stadium floor, sending vibrations rolling like thunderclouds through her legs.

But then came the shift.

Kaia’s sharp senses picked it up even before her eyes caught it — the subtle spike in heat radiating from Todoroki’s left side. A flicker, faint at first, like the first glow of embers struggling against the cold. She tilted her head slightly, feeling the wave of warmth dance along the edges of her skin even from the stands.

Below, Midoriya stood battered but unyielding, shouting through the air thick with frost and smoke, his voice clear even without her seismic sense:

“It’s your power, isn’t it?! It’s yours! So stop denying it!”

That was the moment Todoroki’s flame finally roared to life.

The temperature spiked so suddenly that Kaia almost flinched, the sharp crackle of fire joining the symphony of quaking earth and shattering ice. The flames poured from his left side in full force, the crowd erupting into gasps and cheers at the same time. Kaia’s heart ached, not with fear, but with a bittersweet pride. Todoroki had finally accepted that part of himself — even if just for this one moment.

The final clash came swift and explosive, both boys unleashing everything they had left in a single, head-on collision. Kaia had to brace herself against the railing as the shockwave rippled through the stadium, her seismic sense overwhelmed by the pure, chaotic energy.

And then, silence.

The dust settled to reveal Midoriya collapsed on the ground, unconscious, while Todoroki remained standing, barely, his chest heaving. Midnight raised her hand, announcing Todoroki as the winner, but Kaia could barely process it. Her gaze was locked on Midoriya, unconscious but smiling, knowing full well he’d gotten through to his friend.

Kaia exhaled slowly, hands curling around the railing as the heat and vibrations finally dulled.

"You did good, Izuku," she whispered to herself, a soft smile pulling at her lips. "Real good."

As the roar of the crowd settled from Todoroki and Midoriya’s explosive match, Kaia quietly excused herself from the stands. Her match would be up soon, and she wanted a moment to clear her head, stretch, and focus before stepping onto the field. Making her way through the quiet corridors beneath the stadium, she wasn’t surprised when she spotted him — Todoroki, standing alone near the hallway wall, his usually unreadable expression soft but still distant, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Their eyes met, and for a moment there was silence, the noise of the festival feeling miles away.

Kaia stepped closer, offering a small, genuine smile.
“Hey,” she started, her voice calm and steady. “That was… incredible.”

Todoroki tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking toward her, the faintest glint of curiosity in his mismatched eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, but Kaia wasn’t expecting him to. They’d known each other for a long time — both children of well-known pro heroes, both raised under shadows too big for most people to understand. Their paths always ran parallel, never quite intersecting, but always aware of each other.

“I’m proud of you, y’know,” Kaia said softly, folding her arms as she leaned against the wall beside him. “We might not be close... but I know what it’s like. The pressure. The expectations. Especially from people like them.”

Her voice didn’t hold any bitterness, just understanding. Todoroki glanced away for a moment, the faintest hint of conflict still lingering in his features, before nodding slightly.

“I guess... I’ve just been running from it for so long,” he replied, his voice quiet, more honest than usual. “But... you’re right. It’s mine. I have to accept all of it.”

Kaia gave a small laugh under her breath, nudging his arm lightly.
“Good. Took you long enough, half-and-half.”

The comment earned her a barely-there smile, the closest thing to genuine amusement she’d seen from him in a long time.

Straightening up, Kaia extended her hand toward him.
“Whatever happens next — I’m glad you’ve started to embrace your full power.”

Todoroki looked at her hand for a moment, then reached out and shook it, the handshake firm and respectful, no words needed. A silent agreement between two people who understood the weight of family legacies.

“Good luck, Mikage,” he said simply as they let go.

“You too, Todoroki.”

With that, Kaia turned and continued toward the waiting room, the echoes of the arena and the buzz of the crowd growing louder with every step. Her mind sharpened, calm and steady — ready for the next fight.

*****

In the quiet of the waiting room, Kaia sat perched on the bench, elbows resting loosely on her knees as her eyes flicked between the arena’s broadcast screen and the floor. Bakugo and Kirishima’s match was in full swing, the clash of explosions and hardened skin lighting up the stadium, but her mind was only half on the fight.

The other half was working through the problem ahead of her.

Shiozaki’s quirk — those hair vines. Versatile, fluid, and dangerous if she got caught off-guard. Kaia knew one wrong step could leave her completely immobilized, but the earth beneath her feet had always been her greatest advantage. She just needed the right timing. Stay mobile. Don’t let the vines box her in. If she could anchor herself fast enough, she could counter. And if all else failed — she’d break through, like she always did.

A sharp pop from the screen pulled her attention back, just in time to see Kirishima fall back, his hardening finally pushed past its limit. Midnight’s voice echoed through the stadium speakers.

“And the winner is... Katsuki Bakugo!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts as Bakugo stood tall, his expression as sharp and untamed as ever, while Kirishima — ever the good sport — grinned even in defeat. Kaia stood, brushing off her pants and shaking out her arms, her nerves humming with quiet focus.

She made her way toward the tunnel entrance, boots clicking softly against the polished concrete floor. The cool air of the walkway met her as she paused at the edge, the stadium opening wide in front of her — the sun, the crowd, the sheer wall of noise all waiting for the next match.

Her name would be called any second now.

She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying her breathing, feeling the heartbeat of the arena through the soles of her shoes — through the earth itself. Calm. Focused. Ready.

Midnight’s voice rang out, bold and clear:

“Next up — Kaia Mikage versus Ibara Shiozaki! Participants, to the field!”

Kaia opened her eyes, her usual calm expression slipping into a small, determined smile. This was her moment.

As she stepped out of the tunnel, the roar of the crowd washing over her like a crashing wave, the first thing she spotted was Katsuki walking off the field. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his usual sharp glare fixed forward, but the second his eyes locked onto hers, his stride slowed just enough.

Without missing a beat, he closed the space between them, stopping right in front of her.

“Tch,” he scoffed, his voice low but unmistakably Katsuki — rough around the edges, but carrying that fierce, unspoken expectation. “Don’t lose, got it?”

His crimson eyes burned with the same fire he always fought with. “I’m not wasting my time on anyone else. I want a real fight.”

And just as casually as he’d spoken, he reached out and gave her a firm, almost clumsy pat on the head — a small gesture, but from Bakugo, it spoke volumes. No smug grin. No taunt. Just raw, honest confidence in her.

Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and strode off toward the stands, hands still stuffed in his pockets like nothing happened.

Kaia watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her heart steadied, the weight of nerves fading away. If Bakugo expected her to make it to the next round, she sure as hell wouldn’t let him down.

She turned back toward the field, ready to face Shiozaki head-on.

The arena pulsed with the roar of the crowd, but Kaia Mikage tuned it all out. Midnight’s voice echoed over the speakers like a starting gun, sharp and clear:

“Begin!”

And yet neither Kaia nor Shiozaki made a move.

Kaia stood stock-still, her feet firm against the ground, muscles loose but ready, breathing steady. She wasn’t about to rush in blindly. Her father had drilled that into her from day one — the loudest fighter wasn’t always the strongest. Let your opponent show their hand first.

Across the arena, Shiozaki was the picture of calm, her hands clasped lightly in front of her chest, eyes soft but focused. She looked more like a peaceful monk than a combatant. But Kaia wasn’t fooled. Beneath that serene surface was someone who’d earned her spot here — and her quirk was no joke.

The ground whispered its secrets through Kaia’s seismic sense. She felt the faint twitch of movement before the crowd even realized. Shiozaki’s vines uncoiled like snakes, the tips slicing through the air as they lunged straight for her.

Kaia snapped into action.

She stomped her foot down, pulling a wide slab of earth up in front of her — a sturdy wall that absorbed the initial strike of the vines. The attack rattled the stone, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface, but the wall had done its job. The vines were forced to whip around it, adjusting their angle to strike from the side.

But Kaia wasn’t there anymore.

Using the wall as cover, she’d slipped sideways, pressing her palm flat to the ground. Her seismic sense sharpened, tracking every coil and twist of Shiozaki’s vines, reading their next move like sheet music.

The vines arched high, aiming for an overhead strike.

Kaia planted her other hand to the earth and sent a sharp, localized quake rippling beneath Shiozaki’s feet — not enough to knock her down, but enough to throw her balance off and disrupt her focus. In that split-second gap, Kaia moved again.

She clenched her fists and yanked upward.

Several jagged stone pillars erupted from the ground, rising in a curved formation around Shiozaki like a cage. The vines, which had been mid-swing, slammed against the rocks, their movements restricted. The living plants writhed, trying to find a way out, but Kaia had calculated the angles perfectly. Shiozaki was cornered.

Midnight’s voice broke through the tension.

“Can you move?” she called out, waiting for the girl’s reply.

Shiozaki’s calm expression didn’t waver, but her head dipped slightly. “No. I yield.”

The crowd exploded into applause, cheers ringing through the stadium.

Kaia let out the breath she’d been holding and lowered the stone pillars back into the earth, stepping forward to offer Shiozaki a hand. The other girl accepted it without hesitation, their mutual respect clear in the simple gesture. They walked back to the tunnel side by side, sharing a quiet exchange that the crowd couldn’t hear.

As they stepped off the field, the students in the stands from Class 1-A were on their feet, cheering Kaia’s name.

She glanced up, catching the excited faces of her classmates — and just off to the side, Katsuki Bakugo standing with arms crossed, a sharp smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t shout or clap, but the nod he gave her spoke volumes.

*****

The next match was already underway, and Kaia barely had time to settle back into her seat before the sound of engines roaring filled the stadium.

Tokoyami and Iida stood across from each other, both calm but laser-focused. Midnight's hand dropped, signaling the start, and Iida wasted no time — his engines flared to life, blue flames igniting from his calves as he shot forward like a missile.

Tokoyami immediately called upon Dark Shadow, the inky creature emerging from his body with a fierce screech, ready to intercept. But the bright midday sun, paired with the heat from Iida's engines, kept Dark Shadow from reaching his full strength. The flames licking at the air weakened Tokoyami’s trusted partner, and the usually powerful dark entity flinched with every pass.

Iida didn’t let up. He zipped around Tokoyami in tight circles, forcing him onto the defensive. Each time Dark Shadow lashed out, Iida would dodge at the last second, moving faster than most of the crowd could follow. It wasn’t brute force—it was strategy.

Kaia leaned forward in her seat, impressed despite herself. She could feel the subtle vibrations from Iida’s engines through her seismic sense, reading every sharp turn and burst of acceleration. Tokoyami tried to steady Dark Shadow, keeping his back to the sun to maximize his quirk’s strength, but Iida had already seen through the tactic.

With one final, blinding burst of speed, Iida ducked past Dark Shadow and slammed into Tokoyami’s side with surprising precision. The force sent him skidding back across the arena, heels digging into the dirt, but the momentum was too much.

Tokoyami crossed the boundary line.

The buzzer sounded.

“Tokoyami is out of bounds! Iida Tenya advances to the next round!” Midnight announced.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the excitement high after the fast-paced, tactical match. Tokoyami, ever the stoic, bowed slightly before walking off the field, and Iida offered him a respectful handshake, his chest still heaving from the exertion.

Back in the stands, Kaia clapped along with her classmates, a small smile tugging at her lips. Each match was getting more intense, and hers was no exception. She could already feel the weight of the upcoming battles pressing down, but for now, she let herself enjoy the moment.

The stadium’s roaring cheers from Iida’s victory still echoed through the air when Midnight strutted back to the center of the field, microphone in hand and a playful glint in her eye.

“And with that — the first round and quarterfinals have officially come to a close!” Her voice rang out across the stadium, quieting the crowd with anticipation. “And now, dear spectators, it’s time to announce our semifinal matchups!”

The massive digital screen flickered, reshuffling the names in bold white letters until they settled into place:

Semifinals

1. Shoto Todoroki vs Kaia Mikage
2. Katsuki Bakugo vs Tenya Iida

Kaia’s heart skipped as her name flashed bright on the board, right next to Todoroki’s. Sitting back in her seat, she glanced sideways to where Shoto stood at the edge of the stands, his mismatched eyes locked on the screen — unreadable, but sharp.

Their eyes met briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward, a silent acknowledgment of the fight that lay ahead.

“And there you have it, folks!” Midnight’s voice pulled Kaia’s attention back. “The four remaining students will have a short break before stepping back into the ring for the final stretch! The heat’s only getting more intense from here — so don’t go anywhere!”

The crowd responded with electric excitement, the buzz of conversation filling the air. Kaia leaned back against the seat, her pulse steady but her mind already turning over strategies. Shoto wasn’t going to hold back, and neither was she.

Nearby, Bakugo let out a sharp huff, cracking his knuckles with a wild grin. “Tch — looks like both our matches are about to get real interesting.”

Kaia simply smiled, the thrill of the challenge settling over her like armour.

The final four — Mikage, Todoroki, Bakugo, and Iida — made their way from the stands toward the waiting room, the weight of the upcoming matches hanging in the air, but not quite heavy enough to smother the flicker of light-heartedness still lingering between them.

Tenya, ever the stickler for conversation etiquette, adjusted his glasses as he walked beside Kaia. “Mikage, your battle strategy against Shiozaki was quite impressive! Your timing and control were textbook — no, beyond textbook!”

Kaia chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Thanks, Iida. Honestly, I was more worried about her vines than I let on. If I hadn’t kept calm, I probably would’ve been the one getting wrapped up like a gift.”

“Your control over the earth is always so steady,” Iida continued, flashing his usual proud, straightforward smile. “It’s admirable — especially for someone as young as us.”

Beside them, Bakugo scoffed, hands jammed into his pockets. “Tch. Control’s got nothing to do with it. You just crush the extras and keep moving.”

Todoroki, walking a little behind, gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head at Bakugo’s usual brashness. But Kaia only smiled, used to his sharp tongue by now.

As they turned down the hall, her step faltered for just a split second — not from nerves, but from the subtle shift beneath her feet. To anyone else, the ground would’ve felt the same, but Kaia’s seismic sense picked up the faintest ripple of familiarity in the earth’s vibration.

Her heartbeat slowed, her tense muscles softened.

Her father was nearby.

That quiet but steady signature was unmistakable — a presence that had always calmed her, even when he wasn’t standing right in front of her. A small, unseen smile tugged at her lips as she let the steady pulse ground her.

She’d fight strong, and she’d fight smart. Because win or lose, she knew her family was here, watching.

*****

Kaia stood in the shadowed hallway, her heart steady and her mind sharp, her strategy laid out with careful precision. She knew exactly what kind of fight lay ahead — Shoto Todoroki wasn’t just any opponent. He was calculated, powerful, and now fully embracing the flames that once stayed dormant. This wouldn’t be easy. But Kaia wasn’t the type to shy away from a challenge.

Present Mic’s voice boomed across the stadium, the crowd erupting in excitement the moment he announced the next matchup.

“And now, folks, get ready for a battle you don’t wanna miss! Stepping onto the field — it’s a clash of next-generation powerhouses! Two students, two bloodlines tied to top Pro Heroes! On one side, the cool and composed Shoto Todoroki! And on the other, the earth-shaking, battle-ready Kaia Mikage! An elemental showdown — ice and fire versus earth!”

The cheers roared like thunder, but Kaia barely heard them. She stepped out onto the field, her boots connecting with the arena floor, and the moment she raised her gaze, the noise faded into a quiet hum. Across from her stood Todoroki — stoic as ever, hands at his sides, his expression unreadable but focused.

Their eyes locked, two opponents who understood the weight of expectations, both born to live in the shadows of Pro Heroes, both forging their own path.

Todoroki gave a small, respectful nod, which Kaia returned with calm confidence. Whatever the outcome, this match was more than just advancing to the final — it was about proving to themselves that they weren’t just their parents' legacy.

The sharp blast of the starting signal echoed across the stadium.

The real battle had begun.

Kaia stood her ground, knees bent, muscles coiled like a spring as the sharp ring of the start signal echoed in her ears. She didn’t have to wait long — Shoto Todoroki wasted no time striking first, raising his right arm as waves of jagged, crystalline ice shot toward her with ruthless precision.

The air around the arena dropped a few degrees as the frost advanced. Kaia’s reflexes kicked in, her seismic sense guiding her even before her eyes fully registered the attack. With practiced ease, she slammed her foot into the ground, using a small pillar of earth to launch herself to the side, narrowly dodging the first wave. The second came just as fast, and again, she pushed the ground beneath her feet, skimming away from danger like a leaf caught in the wind.

But Todoroki wasn’t about to give her room to breathe. With a sharp motion, he sent a quick, flat slab of ice flying at her flank, a calculated attempt to corner her.

Kaia’s eyes sharpened, her instincts firing on all cylinders. She leapt off her left foot, twisting her body into a controlled barrel roll midair, using the momentum not to land on her feet — but to strike.

Her hand extended outward, fingers splayed wide as they made contact with the solid earth below. The moment her palm dug into the ground, the arena trembled slightly, and a jagged line of sharp stone erupted from the earth like a spear, racing forward with deadly precision.

Todoroki’s eyes widened — he barely had a second to brace before the rocky projectile slammed into his chest, sending him skidding backward across the field. His boots scraped against the frozen surface until he managed to stomp down, ice blasting from beneath his feet as he erected a thick defensive wall to stop his momentum, the edge of the arena just inches behind him.

Present Mic’s voice cracked through the speakers, practically vibrating with excitement.

“WHOA!! Did you see that, folks?! Mikage with a textbook counterattack — sharp, clean, and fast! She’s reading the battlefield like a pro! But Todoroki’s still in this! This elemental clash is just heating up!”

Kaia steadied herself, her chest rising and falling, her sharp eyes trained on the wall of ice. She knew the fight was far from over. Todoroki wouldn’t go down that easy.

And neither would she.

The battle between Kaia and Todoroki escalated as both combatants seemed to feed off each other's power. Kaia's seismic sense thrummed beneath her skin, guiding her movements as she dodged and retaliated with precision. The ground rumbled with every strike, each step calculated. Todoroki responded in kind, his ice encasing the field with cold, sharp precision.

But Kaia, ever perceptive, noticed something. Todoroki was relying solely on his ice — never once using the fire side of his quirk. She felt a small flicker of determination ignite within her. If he wanted to win this fight, he was going to have to earn it. He couldn’t just hide behind his ice.

Kaia adjusted her stance, a smile tugging at her lips as she began to change her strategy. She targeted Todoroki's left side, where he favoured his ice. Her earthbending abilities sent waves of rocks and debris shooting toward his flank, each rock bursting through the air with force. As she predicted, Todoroki's ice shielded him from the first few blows, but Kaia wasn’t going to make it easy.

She shifted her footing, sending a sharp wave of earth slamming toward his side again, forcing him to sidestep. But Kaia had already anticipated his movements, and with her seismic sense on overdrive, she adjusted and launched another attack, a massive slab of earth aimed directly for Todoroki’s weak point.

From the waiting room, Bakugo watched intently, his eyes narrowing. He noticed Kaia’s targeting of Todoroki’s left side and smirked to himself. She wasn’t just relying on brute strength or her quirk; she was outsmarting him. "Tch," Bakugo muttered, a rare glimmer of respect in his voice. "Not bad, Mikage."

Izuku watched from the med bay window, his eyes glued to the scene. His heart pounded in his chest, seeing Kaia use her quirk with such finesse. She was calm, collected, and precise — the opposite of his own chaotic style. He couldn't help but feel a burst of pride for his friend, his focus unwavering as he silently cheered her on.

In the VIP section, Kaia’s parents exchanged a proud glance, their expressions serene but filled with admiration. Amara leaned forward slightly, her gaze never leaving her daughter. Zaire’s arms crossed over his chest, his eyes sharp but filled with an unspoken pride. "She’s holding her own out there," he said, nodding to his wife. "She’s got this."

Back on the field, Todoroki had finally realized what Kaia was doing. Her attacks were becoming more strategic, more focused. She wasn’t just attacking him with sheer force anymore; she was testing his weaknesses.

Todoroki’s focus sharpened, and he clenched his fists. The arena was filled with the deafening roar of ice exploding from his body, but this time, there was a change. His left side — the side Kaia had been targeting — erupted with flames, heat rising from the ground as Todoroki fully unleashed the fire within him.

Kaia’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t falter. She braced herself, extending her hand, and just as Todoroki’s fire surged toward her, she slammed both palms into the earth, sending a colossal wall of rock upward to block the flames. The heat from the fire scorched the stone, but the rock held firm, the earth beneath her feet steady.

Todoroki didn’t relent. He pushed harder, his flames roaring as they clashed against Kaia’s defence. Kaia's focus never wavered, her seismic sense reaching out to find the right moment. This battle wasn’t just about strength anymore; it was about endurance, timing, and understanding.

“C’mon, Todoroki,” Kaia muttered under her breath. “Show me everything.”

And just like that, she prepared for the next wave.

Todoroki’s flames blazed to life the moment Kaia pushed him past his limit, the left side of his body fully igniting as the true fight began. The air around the stadium rippled with heat, ice shards and molten steam clashing against stone and earth in a spectacular display of power and precision.

Kaia held her ground with grit, sweat beading at her brow, but her breathing steady. Every move she made was sharp and calculated, her seismic sense guiding her through the chaos, dodging ice spikes and deflecting flame bursts with raised stone barriers and swift, fluid earthbending maneuvers. This was the fight she wanted — Todoroki using his full strength, no longer holding back. And for every strike he delivered, Kaia responded in kind, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an easy victory.

But fire, untamed and wild, had a will of its own.

In the heat of battle, Todoroki let loose a blast larger than anything he intended — an eruption of flames so intense it twisted the air around it. Kaia’s eyes widened as the flames roared toward her faster than she could react. She tried to throw up a wall of stone, but the blast came too fast, too sudden.

The flames licked across her left arm, searing the skin instantly. Pain tore through her, white-hot and suffocating, forcing her to her knees as she clutched the burned limb. The heat was unbearable, her quirk flickering as her focus wavered under the pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe through it, but the damage had already been done.

Todoroki froze the moment he realized what happened, the fire dying from his left side almost as quickly as it had surged. His expression shifted from fierce determination to sheer horror. His feet moved before his thoughts could catch up, taking a step toward her.

Kaia, still crouched low, ground her uninjured fist against the arena floor, pain throbbing through her entire body. She could feel the sting — and she knew burns like this couldn’t be ignored, not in the name of pride or competition. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: Your health comes first. You can’t fight if your body fails you.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kaia raised her right hand, curling her fist, and tapped the ground three times.

The stadium fell silent for a moment, the meaning clear.

Midnight’s voice rang out, solemn but clear, “Kaia Mikage has surrendered! Shoto Todoroki is the winner!”

The cheers that followed were not victorious ones, but sympathetic — the crowd respected her decision. The match might have been over, but Kaia’s choice to prioritize her health earned the audience’s admiration.

Before Midnight could even finish her announcement, Todoroki had rushed to her side, dropping to his knees beside her, his expression clouded with guilt.

“Kaia—” His voice cracked slightly, breaking past the usual stoicism he carried. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to—” His words stumbled out as he hovered, unsure if he should touch her or give her space, his flames fully extinguished now, leaving only regret in their place.

Kaia lifted her head, the pain still clear in her eyes, but she managed a small, strained smile. “It’s alright, Shoto… It happens,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the throbbing in her arm. “You fought like you meant it. That’s all I wanted.”

Medical staff were already sprinting onto the field, stretching out a gurney and preparing supplies, carefully easing her off the ground. Todoroki stood aside but stayed close, watching her every move, still tense with concern.

From the waiting room, Bakugo was watching the screens, his usual scowl softened into something unreadable, arms crossed as he watched Kaia with sharp but silent eyes. Midoriya, from the med bay window, pressed his hand against the glass, brows knit in worry.

And up in the VIP section, her parents stood, their proud smiles replaced with quiet concern — but even Zaire nodded once, knowingly, seeing the choice she made for herself. Amara’s hands were clasped tightly, but her voice was steady. “She made the right call.”

Kaia, lying back as the medics wheeled her away, tilted her head slightly to glance at Todoroki walking alongside. “Next time,” she murmured, half-grinning, “I’ll win.”

And Todoroki nodded, his voice low but certain. “I’ll be waiting.”

*****

Kaia sat propped up on the med bay bed, her left arm freshly wrapped in bandages, the sting of the burn softened by Recovery Girl’s treatment but still pulsing beneath the layers of cooling ointment. Her uniform sleeve had been cut away, leaving her arm resting gingerly across her lap.

Izuku sat close by his own arm tucked into a sling, the two of them swapping lighthearted war stories as they waited out the last bit of treatment. The med bay was calm — the faint sounds of the stadium crowd rumbling in the background — but the weight of their battles felt a little lighter now, with both of them alive and in one piece.

“Honestly,” Kaia chuckled, shifting slightly as she flexed her sore fingers, “I should’ve expected the flames to get that wild. He’s got power like a freight train.”

Izuku grinned, letting out a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, Todoroki doesn’t hold back once he starts using both sides. I’ve got the bruises to prove it too.” He glanced toward her wrapped arm, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “But you were incredible out there, Kaia. You had him on the ropes.”

She offered a half-smile, eyes softening. “You paved the way, Izuku. You were the first one who made him start using his full power. I just picked up where you left off.”

Before Izuku could answer, the med bay doors slid open. In walked Amara and Zaire Mikage — both still dressed sharply, with an air of quiet strength that never quite left them even off-duty. The moment they saw the two teens, any formalities dropped away.

Amara’s face lit up, her heels clicking quickly against the floor as she crossed the room. “Izuku!” she breathed, pulling him into a careful but warm hug, as only a second mother could. “You’re always getting yourself banged up.”

Izuku let out a small, fond laugh, relaxing in the embrace. “It’s kind of my thing,” he joked lightly, though his voice was full of affection. “I’m fine, Auntie. Just a few bruises.”

Zaire stepped up behind her, towering and still commanding even in this quiet moment. Without a word, he reached out and rested his large hand atop Izuku’s messy curls, giving his hair a gentle, fatherly ruffle.

“Still as stubborn as ever, huh?” Zaire rumbled, voice deep but fond.

Izuku nodded with a sheepish grin. “Guess I take after Kaia.”

Zaire let out a quiet chuckle before turning his attention to his daughter, his eyes scanning over her bandaged arm. His hand shifted from Izuku to rest on Kaia’s uninjured shoulder, his expression softening.

“You fought smart,” he said quietly, a steady pride in his voice. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

Kaia looked up at him, her usually tough exterior softening in the comfort of her family’s presence. “Thanks, Dad.”

Amara sat beside her on the bed, brushing Kaia’s curls back from her face like she had when Kaia was younger. “You scared the life out of us,” she whispered, though there was nothing but pride in her voice. “But you held your own.”

Kaia nodded, letting her eyes drift between her parents and Izuku, all of them smiling despite the bumps and bruises. “That’s all I wanted to do.”

The distant sound of Present Mic’s excited voice crackled through the stadium speakers, announcing the next match — Bakugo versus Iida. Izuku and Kaia exchanged a knowing glance, both leaning toward the small med bay TV, ready to watch the rest of their classmates fight for the top.

Once the warmth of her parents’ presence faded and their footsteps disappeared down the med bay hall, Kaia carefully slid off the bed, cradling her bandaged arm against her chest. Izuku, still in his sling but looking determined as ever, joined her at the wide med bay window that overlooked the stadium. From their spot, they had a perfect view of the field below just as the next match was about to begin.

“Here we go,” Kaia murmured, her sharp eyes scanning the field as Present Mic’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

“Next up in the semi-finals, it’s Tenya Iida versus Katsuki Bakugo! Two explosive powerhouses — but only one can move on!”

Iida stood at the ready, engines already thrumming with heat from his calves, steam hissing in short bursts as he prepared to launch forward at the first sign of movement. Across from him, Bakugo’s posture was relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets, his usual cocky smirk stretched wide across his face.

Kaia could feel the faint vibrations through the glass — Iida’s engines were revving higher. Her seismic sense still buzzed faintly, her mind naturally picking up the shifts beneath the stadium even if her body ached.

“Tenya’s going to go for a speed advantage,” Izuku mused beside her, his tone somewhere between admiration and concern. “But Katsuki’s gotten better at reading his movements. He’s probably baiting him.”

Kaia nodded, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Yeah. Bakugo’s the type to let you come to him so he can blow you out of the sky.”

The buzzer sounded, sharp and loud — and just like that, Iida was gone in a blur of blue, dashing across the field at breakneck speed. His speed had clearly been tuned to max, his engines leaving scorching trails on the grass as he zipped toward Bakugo, who didn’t even flinch at first.

Then, at the last second, Bakugo shifted.

With a sharp, explosive blast from his gauntlets, he launched himself backward, letting Iida’s strike narrowly miss. Using the momentum, he twisted mid-air and fired another explosion downward, forcing Iida to redirect and swerve away to avoid being hit.

Izuku leaned closer to the glass, holding his breath as he watched the two of them exchange moves. “Tenya’s trying to keep him on the defensive.”

But Kaia, even with her dulled senses from the injury, could feel the moment the ground beneath her buzzed from Bakugo’s precision shift. She could sense it — the fight was turning.

Bakugo stopped retreating.

With a single, explosive burst, he cut off Iida’s escape path, landing right in front of him before Iida could kick into another burst of speed. The second Iida tried to pivot, Bakugo anticipated it, blasting one of his gauntlets at the ground to send a shockwave straight into Iida’s legs. The force threw Iida off balance, giving Bakugo the split-second opening he needed.

Another blast rang out, this one powerful enough to send Iida sliding back across the field, his engines flickering out, the power cycle clearly overheated from trying to keep up.

The stadium erupted into cheers as Midnight raised her hand.

“Katsuki Bakugo advances to the final round!”

Kaia leaned her head lightly against the glass, exhaling a soft breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He didn’t hold back,” she said, her voice proud, but tinged with quiet relief.

Izuku chuckled, turning to glance at her. “When does he ever?”

As Bakugo walked off the field, victorious, his sharp gaze flicked up toward the med bay window. His expression stayed unreadable for a moment, but Kaia knew better — there was a spark of something there. A silent promise.

And she understood exactly what it meant.

*****

The stadium roared with excitement as the final match loomed, the air electric with anticipation. Back in the waiting area, Kaia stood leaning lightly against the wall, her left arm still carefully wrapped in bandages beneath her uniform jacket. Despite the healing from Recovery Girl, the sting hadn’t fully left her — a reminder of the fight she couldn’t finish.

She heard the heavy footsteps before she saw him.

Katsuki rounded the corner, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual scowl present — but the sharpness in his eyes softened slightly when they landed on her.

Kaia straightened up, offering him a sheepish but genuine smile.

“…Hey,” she started, voice a little quieter than usual. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you out there.”

Katsuki stopped just in front of her, his crimson eyes steady on hers. He didn’t answer right away, letting the moment sit between them.

Kaia’s gaze dropped for a second, her thumb brushing lightly against the edge of her bandages. “I wanted to fight you. I wanted to see how far I’ve come.” She let out a soft, short breath, lifting her eyes back to his. “But I guess… we’ll have to wait for next time. When we’re both even stronger.”

Katsuki tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into that half-smirk — the one that wasn’t quite as sharp as the rest. “Damn right, you will,” he muttered, voice low but steady. “You better not lose to anyone else before then. I’m the only one who gets to beat you.”

Kaia huffed a soft laugh, her heart a little lighter. “Deal.”

For a second, there was a silence — but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. Katsuki lifted a hand, rough but careful, and rested it atop her head, fingers ruffling her dark hair just once before pulling back.

“Rest up, Pebbles,” he said, turning toward the walkway. “You owe me a real fight.”

Kaia stood there, watching his back as he strode toward the stadium tunnel. “Count on it, Katsuki.”

And as he walked onto the field, ready for the final match, Kaia felt the ache in her arm fade into the background. The next time they faced off, she’d make sure it was the fight they both deserved.

*****

After their quiet moment, Kaia and Izuku walked side by side through the stadium halls. The cool breeze brushed against their faces as they climbed the steps back to the stands where Class 1-A had gathered. The roar of the crowd filled the air as the final match was about to begin, the excitement nearly tangible.

Kaia settled into her seat, carefully adjusting her bandaged arm against her lap while Izuku sat beside her, his own sling still snug around his shoulder. The two glanced at each other, sharing the kind of knowing smile only two people who had stood on that battlefield could understand.

“Here we go,” Kaia murmured, eyes locked on the arena as the booming voice of Present Mic filled the stadium.

“Alright, folks, the moment you’ve all been waiting for — the final match of the U.A. Sports Festival! A showdown between two of the fiercest competitors we’ve seen today! On one side, Class 1-A’s own explosive hothead — Katsuki Bakugo! And on the other, the calm and cold prodigy — Shoto Todoroki!”

Kaia leaned forward slightly, watching as Bakugo stomped onto the field with that usual untamed confidence, gauntlets locked and eyes sharp. Todoroki stood across from him, his expression steady, flames and frost both faintly flickering along his arms, the weight of his earlier battles still lingering on his face.

Izuku glanced at Kaia, catching the way her jaw tensed slightly, her focus razor-sharp on the two boys below.

“You think Todoroki will use both sides again?” Izuku asked, his voice low but curious.

Kaia tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving the field. “He will,” she answered quietly. “Kats won’t let him do anything less.”

The tension in the stadium was heavy as the countdown began, and Kaia felt her heartbeat quicken, not out of nerves for herself — but for the battle her friend was about to face. Win or lose, this final match was going to be explosive.

The air was sharp with tension as the final match began, Bakugo wasting no time the moment the signal rang out. He lunged forward, explosions blasting from his palms, closing the gap between him and Todoroki in seconds. But like clockwork, Todoroki raised his right arm, sending an unforgiving wall of ice surging forward to push Bakugo back.

Kaia’s eyes narrowed, her seismic sense flickering faintly beneath her feet — not for incoming attacks, but from the rhythm of the fight itself. She could feel the strain in the ground with every blast of ice and explosion, but more importantly, she could sense the shift in emotion.

Todoroki wasn’t using his flames.

Her gaze sharpened as she watched him stick to cold, calculated ice attacks, never once reaching for his left side. Bakugo’s movements grew more aggressive by the second, and even without hearing him, Kaia could tell exactly what he was thinking. His frustration was practically radiating from the field.

"He's holding back," Kaia mumbled under her breath, her voice barely loud enough for Izuku to hear.

Izuku glanced over at her, his expression tightening. "Yeah… I see it too."

From the field, Bakugo’s voice finally exploded, the roar of anger cutting through the arena. "USE IT, DAMN IT!" he shouted, launching himself over another glacier-sized wall, explosions ripping from his gauntlets. "FIGHT ME WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!"

But Todoroki’s face remained distant, almost hollow. The flames he’d embraced in the earlier match against Kaia had vanished, replaced by that same cool, detached ice. Kaia felt a subtle knot twist in her chest, her concern deepening.

"He's not in it... not like before," she whispered, gripping her bandaged arm slightly. The fight wasn’t the clash of equals it should’ve been, and Bakugo could feel it. He didn’t want a victory handed to him. He wanted a real battle.

The crowd might have been roaring, but to Kaia, the fight felt... off.

And from her seat, all she could do was watch it unfold.

Bakugo’s frustration was written all over his face. His attacks grew more violent, more reckless, each explosion louder than the last, practically screaming for Todoroki to fight back with everything he had.

"Come on, damn it!" Bakugo barked, launching himself through another wave of frozen spikes. "I don't want your half-assed strength!"

From the stands, Kaia sat tense, her bandaged arm resting in her lap, her seismic sense humming quietly beneath her feet. She felt the standoff in every vibration — the anger rolling off Bakugo in waves, and Todoroki’s almost robotic stillness.

Her gaze flicked to Izuku sitting beside her. He must’ve felt it too, because when their eyes met, neither needed to say a word. A silent, worried exchange passed between them. This wasn’t the fight Bakugo had wanted. And it wasn’t the Todoroki either of them had faced.

The match dragged on, both boys locked in a fierce, exhausting exchange of attacks. Ice walls and explosions lit up the stadium, the crowd on the edge of their seats, but Kaia and Izuku remained still — their concern growing with every second Shoto held back.

"He’s not gonna using it," Kaia muttered quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Izuku nodded slightly, his expression grim. "No... he’s not."

They both sat in silence, their attention locked on the arena as Bakugo fought harder and harder, as if trying to break through the wall Shoto had put up — not the ice, but the one inside himself.

Just when it seemed like Bakugo's fury would swallow the whole arena, Shoto finally moved — a flicker of flame sparking to life on his left side. Kaia straightened in her seat, her heart leaping, her senses sharp and alert. Beside her, Izuku leaned forward, eyes wide with the same hope.

Bakugo had felt it too.

The moment Shoto’s flames ignited, Bakugo braced himself, his palms crackling with energy, a full-force counterstrike already locked and loaded. Shoto raised his left hand, the heat coiling, rising — but then, at the last possible second, the flames flickered.

And died.

In that moment of hesitation, Bakugo’s explosion was already midair. The blast slammed into Todoroki’s chest, sending him skidding across the field until his back hit the outer boundary. Midnight wasted no time raising her hand, voice echoing across the stadium:

"Shoto Todoroki is out of bounds! Katsuki Bakugo advances as the winner!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Kaia barely registered the noise. Her head turned, following Shoto’s line of sight as he sat on the ground, dazed, eyes fixed on the stands. And there he was.

Endeavor.

Standing tall with his arms folded, a sharp, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth — not pride, but control. It wasn’t hard to piece together. Shoto’s flames hadn’t fizzled from exhaustion. They’d vanished the moment he saw his father.

Kaia’s chest tightened, a flicker of quiet anger curling deep inside. She shifted in her seat, her injured arm twinging under its bandages as she watched Todoroki slowly push himself up, Bakugo still glaring, looking more pissed than victorious.

Beside her, Izuku lowered his head, frowning.

"He couldn’t do it," Kaia whispered softly, her voice barely audible over the crowd.

And even with Bakugo’s hand raised in victory, it didn’t feel like a win.

*****

Kaia stood quietly as Midnight led her through the dim hallway beneath the stadium, her wrapped arm still cradled carefully against her side. The faint sound of the roaring crowd echoed through the concrete walls as they stopped at a platform in the middle of an otherwise empty room. Midnight gave her a reassuring smile and a light nudge forward.

“This is your stop, Mikage,” she said warmly. “Congrats, kid. You earned it.”

Kaia stepped onto the platform, taking a slow, steady breath. Even with the dull ache in her arm, she couldn’t help the small flicker of pride that bubbled in her chest. Third place — not bad at all.

Up above, Present Mic’s voice cut through the air, booming and full of excitement.

“Ladies and gentlemen! After an incredible display of strength, strategy, and heart — let’s give it up for our top three first-year heroes in training!”

The platform jerked beneath her feet, rising steadily toward the sunlight. As the platform cleared the surface, Kaia blinked against the bright stadium lights and the roaring crowd, her eyes immediately shifting to her right.

Standing tall on the second-place platform was Todoroki, his expression calm but distant — still carrying the weight of that last match on his shoulders. His hands were loosely tucked into his pockets, and though his face was unreadable, Kaia could sense the quiet storm still lingering beneath the surface.

But it was the sight at the center podium that nearly made her snort.

Katsuki stood there, the freshly minted champion, scowling so hard his entire face might have cracked. Heavy chains wrapped around his upper body, locking his arms tightly against his sides, and a muzzle strapped securely over his mouth. His entire posture radiated pure fury and frustration, even as the crowd cheered wildly.

Only Bakugo would win and still look like he was the one being punished.

She caught his eye for just a second, and even with the muzzle, the familiar fire in his glare told her exactly what he was thinking: “Next time, no excuses.”

Her gaze flicked back to Todoroki, who met her eyes for the briefest moment. They didn’t exchange words, but the nod he gave her was enough. A mutual understanding between two kids still learning how to carry the weight of their legacies.

As the crowd’s cheers finally began to settle, All Might appeared on the field, bright and beaming even in his slightly deflated state. His towering presence still commanded attention as he strode toward the podium with three medals cradled carefully in his hands.

Kaia stood straight on her platform, but her eyes kept flicking toward Katsuki, her amusement dimming just a little. Sure, it was funny at first — seeing him chained to a rock with a muzzle, scowling like an angry, cornered wolf. It was the kind of over-the-top spectacle that only U.A. would dream up for crowd control. But the longer she stared, the more it nagged at her.

For someone like Bakugo, whose pride was already as fierce as his quirk, binding him up like that after his win felt... off. Like the school didn’t fully trust him, even after all his strength and effort. Kaia’s smile softened slightly, concern settling behind her eyes.

When All Might reached her first, he offered his signature grin, his shadow falling over her.

“Well done, young Mikage!” he said, lowering the bronze medal around her neck with careful hands, mindful of her bandaged arm. “You showed real strength out there — not just power, but heart. I expect great things from you.”

Kaia gave him a small, genuine smile, her fingers brushing the medal lightly. “Thank you, All Might.”

Next, he moved to Todoroki, placing the silver medal around his neck with equal care. Shoto accepted it quietly, his gaze distant but steady, giving only a respectful nod in return.

Finally, All Might stood before Bakugo. The chains clinked softly as the hero placed the gold medal around his neck. Bakugo’s hands were still pinned at his sides, the muzzle keeping his frustrated growl buried in his throat. His eyes, though, burned with pure, untamed determination.

Kaia watched the interaction, her concern lingering. The whole thing felt more like a warning than a celebration for him — and knowing Katsuki, that would only fuel his fire for the next time.

When the three turned to face the crowd, the stadium erupted in applause once more, the stands vibrating beneath Kaia’s feet as the announcers declared the festival’s end.

She looked sideways at both boys — Todoroki standing in quiet reflection, Bakugo glaring daggers through his muzzle — and a soft thought crossed her mind: Next year, things are going to be even more intense.

And she couldn’t wait.

*****

The energy on the bus was a strange mix of exhaustion and excitement. Everyone was still buzzing from the day's battles, but the wear and tear of the Sports Festival had finally started to sink in.

Kaia sat by the window, her arm still wrapped in bandages, the bronze medal resting against her chest. The cool glass of the window offered some relief as the city scenery blurred past. She leaned her head against it, half-listening to her classmates chatter, half-lost in her own thoughts.

Kirishima was up front, loudly retelling the highlight of his match with Bakugo, hands gesturing so wildly that Sero had to duck once or twice to avoid getting smacked in the face. Mina, Jirou, and Hagakure were crowded around Uraraka, all fawning over her performance and how close she came to making the semi-finals.

Midoriya sat in the seat across from Kaia, his arm still in a sling but his expression light, eyes sparkling with that usual wide-eyed admiration for everyone around him. He caught Kaia’s gaze and gave her a small, understanding smile — both of them had battled hard, and both were wearing the evidence of it.

Behind them, Todoroki sat quietly, earbuds in, head leaning back against the seat. His face was unreadable, as always, but Kaia could sense that his mind was still back on the field. His father’s smirk was likely still burned into his thoughts.

And in the very back corner, Katsuki slumped in his seat, arms crossed, scowl firmly in place — medal shoved deep in his pocket rather than around his neck. His hair was still damp from the cold shower the teachers had practically forced him to take before boarding the bus, his mood sharp and prickly as ever.

Kaia glanced back at him once, debating if she should say something, but the heavy tension around him made her hold back. Instead, she softly nudged Midoriya with her foot, giving him a playful smirk.

“You think Kacchan’s ever going to wear that medal?” she teased under her breath.

Midoriya let out a soft chuckle. “Probably not. But... I think it still matters to him, even if he won’t say it.”

“Yeah,” Kaia murmured, leaning her head back against the window. “Same.”

The bus rolled on, the golden glow of the setting sun painting long shadows through the windows. Their bodies were bruised, and their minds were heavy, but there was a quiet pride shared between them all. Each one of them had made it through the Sports Festival. Win or lose, they had proven something to the world — and to themselves.

A calm settled over the bus as the campus gates came into view.

*****

As Kaia stepped through the towering gates of U.A., the cool evening air washed over her, but it did little to shake off the exhaustion clinging to her like a second skin. Her body ached — the wrapped burn on her arm, the bruises hidden under her uniform — but her mind felt even heavier. She kept going over the day on a loop: the fights, the cheers, the adrenaline, the fire, the stone, the choices.

But as her eyes lifted from the pavement, that quiet spiral was interrupted by two very familiar faces waiting just outside the gate.

Her parents — Amara and Zaire — were standing together, the pride on their faces as bright and warm as the sunset behind them. Amara gave her a small wave the moment their eyes met, while Zaire stood with his arms crossed, wearing that rare, soft smile he reserved only for his daughter.

Kaia’s tired expression melted into something lighter as she jogged the last few steps toward them, careful not to jostle her arm too much. Amara was the first to pull her into a gentle, one-armed hug — careful but full of love.

"You were incredible out there, sweetheart," Amara said softly, brushing a piece of hair from Kaia’s face. "You’ve always made us proud, but today you showed the world exactly who you are."

Zaire stepped in next, ruffling her hair gently before resting a firm hand on her shoulder. "Held your ground, fought smart. That’s all I could ever ask."

The warmth of their words settled the last bit of tension in her chest. For the first time all day, Kaia let out a long, genuine sigh — one that wasn’t weighted with nerves or overthinking.

"So," Zaire spoke up, glancing down at her with a knowing smile, "where to, Champ?"

Kaia didn’t even have to think about it. Her tired but eager voice cut through.

"Burgers. Big, greasy, stacked — I’ve earned it."

Amara laughed, looping her arm through Kaia’s uninjured one as they started walking toward the car.

"Burger joint it is," she agreed, "You call the shots tonight, kiddo."

And just like that, the Mikage family piled into the car, the day's weight lifting little by little with every mile away from campus. By the time they reached the cozy little burger place Kaia had picked — her usual go-to — the exhaustion had given way to comfort. Fries were shared, shakes were sipped, and stories were swapped as the night settled in.

No medals, no crowds, no pressure. Just Kaia, her parents, and the quiet, undeniable pride that even through all the bruises and burns — she had earned every bit of this moment.

Chapter Text

The sun had already climbed high into the sky by the time Kaia’s eyes fluttered open. She wasn’t usually one to sleep in — her internal clock trained from both school and her father’s early morning discipline — but yesterday’s sports festival had taken more out of her than she’d realized. Her muscles ached in that dull, satisfying way only a hard fight could leave behind, and the faint twinge in her bandaged arm was a quiet reminder of her match with Todoroki.

She lay there for a few extra minutes, staring at the ceiling and letting the peaceful silence of the house settle around her before finally pulling herself out of bed. When she made her way to the kitchen, a note sat on the counter, scrawled in her mom’s neat handwriting:

“Gone to brunch with Mitsuki and Inko! Leftovers in the fridge. Love you! — Mom”

Kaia smiled softly at the names. Mitsuki and Inko had been family friends her whole life — so it didn’t surprise her that her mom had plans with them. As for her dad, there was no note, but the absence of his usual coffee mug on the drying rack told her he’d left for his hero agency early. Business as usual.

After stretching out the last of the sleep from her limbs, Kaia got to work fixing herself a simple breakfast — eggs, toast, and some fruit. She wasn’t exactly a culinary master, but her appetite had returned in full force, and the meal hit the spot. Once the dishes were cleared, she set up her textbooks and notebooks on the dining room table, settling in for the other half of her life: schoolwork.

It felt weird — after a day of fighting and standing in front of crowds — to go back to algebra problems and essay drafts. But part of her liked it. The normalcy of it. The quiet. The reminder that beyond quirks, battles, and rankings, she was still just a student working toward the future her parents had always encouraged her to shape for herself.

The hours passed steadily, and every now and then, Kaia would glance at her phone, a small thread of curiosity lingering in the back of her mind about how the others were spending their day. She figured Izuku was probably resting too, and knowing Bakugo, he was likely either training or yelling at someone to spar with him. The thought made her chuckle under her breath.

She went back to her writing, the warm light of the afternoon sun pooling into the room, her world calm and quiet for now.

A little later Kaia leaned back in her chair, stretching her sore arms above her head as her eyes wandered from her now finished homework to the bright sky outside the window. The sun was out, the breeze looked perfect — and honestly, after the kind of week they'd all had, everyone could use a break.

A spark of excitement lit up her mind.

She snatched up her phone and fired off a quick text to her mom:

Kaia:
“Hey, can the girls from class come over? Thinking a little pool hangout, nothing too wild.”

The reply came faster than she expected:

Amara:
“Of course! I’ll have your dad pick up food on his way home. Just let me know how many of you there’ll be. Love you, sweetheart!”

Kaia grinned. That was all the confirmation she needed.

She flipped to the girls’ group chat — the one where Mina, Uraraka, Jirou, Asui, Hagakure, Momo, and Yaoyorozu usually spammed memes and class gossip — and sent her message:

Kaia:
“Hey girls! My parents gave the OK. Pool day at my place! Bring swimsuits, towels, and a change of clothes! Sending the location 🏡💦☀️”

She dropped the pin for her house’s location in the chat and hit send.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed nonstop.

Mina:
"YASSSS!! I’ve been dying for a chill day!"

Uraraka:
"I’m in! I’ve been needing this 🥰"

Jirou:
"Count me in. I’ll bring my speaker too. Poolside playlists, let’s go."

Tsuyu:
"Kero~ sounds like fun! I’ll be there."

Hagakure:
"I’m basically already wearing my swimsuit, lol. Be there soon!"

Momo:
"I’ll bring snacks and extra sunscreen, just in case!"

Kaia couldn’t stop the soft laugh that bubbled up as her phone kept lighting up with enthusiasm from her classmates. The house might’ve been quiet this morning, but it was about to turn into a full-on summer hangout.

She stood, heading for her closet to pull out her own swimsuit and clean the patio area a little, her excitement growing with each passing minute.

It didn’t take long for Kaia to hear the excited chatter and shuffle of shoes on pavement outside her front door. She peeked through the window just in time to see Mina and Uraraka practically bouncing up the walkway, Jirou with her speaker slung over her shoulder, and Tsuyu, Momo, and Hagakure close behind — all carrying bags, towels, and that unmistakable energy of students finally getting a break from school and stress.

Kaia opened the door, grinning wide.

“Hey! You guys got here fast!”

Mina threw her arms up dramatically, “Girl, you said pool day. There was no way I wasn’t teleporting here if I could!”

The group piled inside, already chattering about swimsuits, snacks, and music. Shoes kicked off by the entryway, bags set neatly near the wall, and before Kaia knew it, Jirou had already connected her speaker, filling the house with a laid-back playlist of summer vibes.

Momo, always prepared, set down a basket full of snacks, drinks, and extra sunscreen on the patio table as they migrated to the backyard. The Mikage’s backyard looked straight out of a catalogue — the pool glittered in the sun, lounge chairs lined one side, and a little shaded cabana sat in the corner.

Hagakure was the first one ready — her swimsuit already under her clothes — and she made an exaggerated splash into the pool, making the others laugh. Mina and Uraraka followed not far behind, diving in with playful whoops, while Tsuyu eased into the water with her usual frog-like grace.

Kaia stood poolside for a second, letting the warmth hit her face, feeling the tension from the last few days finally start to melt away.

Jirou plopped down in one of the chairs, setting the speaker next to her, tapping through her playlist. “This is exactly what we needed. II was one step away from combusting.”

Kaia laughed, tossing her towel onto a chair before stepping to the edge and diving in cleanly. The cool water was a welcome relief, especially for her healing arm, which she’d kept carefully out of any rough play.

When she surfaced, Uraraka floated over and smiled.
“Kaia, this was a great idea.”

Kaia wiped water from her face, grinning. “Yeah. I figured we all deserved to breathe for a minute.”

The afternoon unfolded like something out of a perfect daydream — water fights, lounging around with cold drinks, sharing stories about the Sports Festival and the little moments that didn’t make it into the spotlight. Laughter filled the air, and for once, none of them were thinking about quirks, training, or the pressure of becoming heroes.

Eventually, as the sun started to dip lower, her dad arrived — balancing bags of takeout with an easy smile, greeting each of the girls like they were his own kids. The smell of burgers and fries filled the patio as everyone gathered around the table, soaking in the golden-hour light.

The sound of the front door unlocking pulled Kaia’s attention from the pool deck — her senses perked even before the handle turned. A familiar rhythm of footsteps echoed through the house as her father strolled in, still dressed in his hero uniform, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened, holding two heavy paper bags stacked with food.

“Delivery for the hungriest bunch of future pros in the city,” he called out, his voice carrying that warm, teasing tone only a dad could pull off.

The girls cheered from the backyard as Kaia quickly hopped out of the pool, towel draped around her shoulders, and met him at the sliding door.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she grinned, grabbing one of the bags from him. “We were just about to raid the kitchen for snacks.”

Zaire chuckled, stepping out onto the patio and giving the girls a wave. “Hey, ladies! Hope you saved some room — I brought enough to feed a small army.”

Mina, dripping wet and wrapped in her neon towel, jogged over with wide eyes. “You’re the MVP, Mr. Mikage!”

He ruffled Kaia’s damp hair as he set the food down on the outdoor table. “I try, I try.”

Momo helped start unpacking the bags, revealing stacks of burgers, cartons of crispy fries, and an assortment of drinks. The scent alone was enough to make their stomachs growl.

“Kaia told me you’ve all been working hard,” Zaire said, leaning on the deck rail as the girls circled around the table, “so it’s on me and Amara to make sure you at least eat like queens when you get the chance.”

“Your parents are the coolest,” Uraraka mumbled through a mouthful of fries, drawing a playful nudge from Hagakure.

Tsuyu, munching on a plain burger, croaked softly, “Ribbit. You’re lucky, Kaia.”

Kaia couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at her lips as she unwrapped her burger, sitting comfortably between Jirou and Mina, the weight of stress and the Sports Festival finally washed away for the evening.

The group swapped stories as they ate, half-replaying the matches, half-joking about Bakugo’s explosion-fueled temper during his medal ceremony. Laughter echoed across the backyard, Zaire occasionally chiming in with light comments, and Kaia soaked in the easy, peaceful moment.

No villains, no pressure, just friends — and a dad who always knew when to show up with the perfect meal.

When the sky deepened into soft purples and oranges, Kaia leaned back in her chair, the last bit of her burger forgotten on her plate, watching her friends with a warm heart.

This was exactly the kind of day she’d needed.

*****

The morning light poured softly into the Mikage kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and warm toast filling the air. Kaia sat at the island, legs tucked under her in her usual relaxed way, slowly working through a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Across from her, Amara sipped her coffee with that easy grace, dressed casually for the day.

It had been a quiet morning, the calm kind that felt like a breath of fresh air after everything with the Sports Festival. Just the two of them, no rush, no noise — just a peaceful breakfast.

“So,” Kaia began between bites, looking up from her plate, “how was brunch yesterday? You, Inko, and Mitsuki causing trouble?”

Amara let out a soft chuckle, setting her coffee down. “Oh, you know the usual. Mitsuki had the poor waiter wrapped around her finger for extra pastries, and Inko’s still the sweetest. We caught up a little on you kids — the boys especially.”

Kaia perked up, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. “Yeah? Did they say anything about how they’ve been since... y’know, the Festival?”

Amara nodded, her expression shifting into something a little more thoughtful. “Mitsuki said Katsuki’s been in a bit of a mood. Even though he won, he wasn’t exactly happy about it. She mentioned he stormed into the house barely saying a word and locked himself in his room for hours.”

Kaia’s chest tightened slightly. She wasn’t surprised, but it still stung to hear. “Yeah... I kinda figured,” she murmured, pushing some scrambled eggs around her plate.

“And Inko?” Kaia prompted.

“Inko mentioned Midoriya’s still nursing his arm, but his spirits were high. She’s proud of him — as always. She said he won’t sit still, though, probably itching to train the second he’s cleared.” Amara reached across the counter, giving Kaia’s bandaged arm a gentle tap. “You kids push yourselves too hard sometimes.”

Kaia shrugged, a playful glint flickering in her eyes. “Can’t help it. I guess we’re wired that way.”

Her mother reached over, tapping her bandaged arm gently. “You three — you’re all a little too hard on yourselves. Winning, losing, doesn’t change the fact you’re still growing. You’ve got time to get stronger, smarter, and kinder. You’ll figure it out.”

Kaia looked up, meeting her mom’s gaze and giving a grateful nod. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Always, sweetheart.” Amara sipped her coffee again, the warmth of the kitchen wrapping around them like a quiet shield from the world outside.

After a sip of her juice, she looked up at her mom, her voice light but a little thoughtful.

“Hey, Mom... can I ask you something?”

Amara glanced over from her coffee cup, giving her daughter her full attention. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

Kaia hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve just... noticed that you and Dad seem... better. Like, things aren’t as tense between you two anymore. Since I started U.A., I mean.”

Amara paused, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got a good eye, you know that?”

Kaia shrugged, her curiosity flickering in her gaze. “I remember before school started... the house always felt a little off. Like you were both trying, but Dad was gone a lot, and you looked stressed. I guess I was just wondering if... things changed.”

Amara set her mug down, folding her hands on the table. “You’re right. It was hard for a while. Your dad’s job as a Pro Hero — the late nights, the patrols, the emergencies — it put a strain on us. I work normal hours, he... doesn’t. And for a long time, I felt like we were living separate lives under the same roof.”

She let out a soft breath before continuing. “But when you got into U.A., and we saw you chasing this dream — we both realized we’d spent too much time worrying about the future, and not enough time being in the moment. Your dad made more of an effort when he saw how much you were growing on your own. He still works crazy hours, but... we talk more. We try harder.”

Kaia’s chest tightened a little, but in a warm, settled way. She nodded, her voice soft. “I’m glad. You both deserve to be happy.”

Amara reached out and brushed a hand over Kaia’s cheek, her expression tender. “We are baby. And watching you grow into the person you’re becoming — that’s made everything worth it.”

Kaia smiled, feeling a quiet peace settle between them as the sun streamed through the window, soft and golden.

*****

After breakfast, with the sun sitting comfortably high in the sky and a gentle spring breeze rustling the leaves, Kaia decided to take advantage of the calm morning. She slipped on her shoes, her phone, bag, and stepped out for a walk around her neighbourhood. The quiet streets and familiar scenery brought her a sense of peace — a rare feeling after the whirlwind that had been the U.A. Sports Festival.

The fresh air helped ease the lingering exhaustion from the last few days. Her wrapped arm felt a little stiff but not unbearable, and the soreness was a reminder of how far she'd come. As she walked beneath the clear blue sky, her thoughts drifted to her friends — more specifically, the two boys who had been part of her life long before U.A. even entered the picture.

Pulling out her phone, she sent off two separate texts. One to Izuku, asking how he was holding up after the festival, knowing his match had left him pretty banged up. The other to Katsuki, a simple check-in — no fluff, just enough to let him know she was thinking about him.

To Izuku:
“Hey, how’s the arm feeling? Hope you’re taking it easy. Proud of you, y’know.”

To Katsuki:
“Checking in on you, you okay? You weren’t too happy about the win, I could tell.”

Since starting at U.A., it felt like the old trio — her, Katsuki, and Izuku — were finally circling back to something more steady. It wasn’t perfect, and there was still tension between the boys, but she could feel the shift. Growth. Maturity. Or at least the start of it.

Kaia believed deep down that once Katsuki confronted the piece of himself that still held onto that sharp-edged distain for Izuku, the pieces would fall into place. Things wouldn’t be the same as when they were kids, but maybe — just maybe — they could be better. The kind of bond built on mutual respect, rather than just childhood history.

Not long after, her phone buzzed with Izuku’s reply. She smiled, thumbing through his usual polite but cheerful messages as the two texted back and forth. He mentioned how Recovery Girl scolded him for overdoing it, and how All Might gave him a little talk about balance, his texts warm with the kind of lightness that Kaia always appreciated.

The exchange was easy, comforting — the same way it had always been between them. Her heart softened at the thought. Despite everything changing, some things, like her friendship with Izuku, stayed constant.

Just as she tucked her phone away and rounded a quiet corner, her phone started to buzz again repeatedly — this time the name glowing on the screen wasn’t Izuku’s, but Katsuki.

Kaia blinked, surprised, but answered without hesitation.

“Hey.” Her voice was gentle but steady, like she didn’t want to spook him.

There was a pause on the other end before his voice came through, gruff as always, but lacking its usual sharp edge.

“Tch. You really sent me a damn check-in text like I’m some charity case.” His tone wasn’t angry, just... tired.

Kaia chuckled softly, shaking her head as she kept walking. “I didn’t think you’d pick up, honestly. But no — not a charity thing. Just a friend thing.”

Another beat of silence stretched out, and when Katsuki spoke again, his voice was lower. “...I should’ve felt good winning that stupid thing. But I didn’t.”

Kaia slowed her pace, understanding the weight in his words. “Yeah. I could tell.” She glanced up at the sky, her voice soft but honest. “I think... part of you wanted Shoto to fight like it mattered. But he didn’t. Not really.”

“Tch,” he muttered again, quieter this time. “Damn bastard couldn’t even give me a real fight. Felt like I got handed something I didn’t earn.”

“You’ll earn the next one,” Kaia replied firmly. “You always do.”

That earned a soft, almost unnoticeable exhale from him — the closest thing to a laugh she’d get. As the quiet hum of their conversation lingered, Katsuki’s sharp ears picked up the sound of her steady footsteps and the soft breeze through the phone. His tone, rough but familiar, cut through the line.

“…You walking around or somethin’?”

Kaia paused, glancing around her at the quiet street, a little surprised he’d caught on. “Yeah... just around the neighbourhood. Needed the fresh air after being cooped up yesterday.”

There was a low, thoughtful grunt on the other end before Katsuki spoke again, casually but unmistakably pointed.

“…If you’re already out, come by.”

Kaia blinked, her pace slowing as his words sank in. It wasn’t a demand — more like a suggestion wrapped in that stubborn pride of his. Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.

“Since I’m already near your street, huh?” she teased lightly, her voice soft but warm. “Alright. I’ll consider it.”

Without missing a beat, she shifted her path, turning at the next corner and heading toward the familiar block where the Bakugo house stood. Her heart felt lighter with each step, knowing — in that subtle, quiet Katsuki way — this was his version of asking for company.

When she hung up the call, her feet carried her the rest of the way, ready for whatever conversation was waiting on the other side of his front door.

Kaia walked up the familiar path leading to the Bakugo household, her phone still in hand as she sent a quick text to her mom:

[Kaia]: Hey mom, I’m heading to the Bakugo's for a bit. Just wanted to let you know!

Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and made her way toward the front steps. Just as she reached for the doorbell, the front door swung open — the timing catching her a little off guard.

Standing there was Masaru Bakugo, holding a tied-up trash bag in one hand and looking just as surprised to see her. His expression softened almost instantly into a warm, familiar smile.

“Kaia? Hey, kiddo! Haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

Kaia gave a small laugh and waved. “Hey, Uncle. Katsuki called me — said to come by. Hope that’s alright.”

Masaru’s easy going chuckle answered before he even spoke. “Of course, of course. You know you’re always welcome here.” He stepped aside slightly, pointing his thumb back toward the house. “He’s up in his room. Same as always.”

“Thanks,” Kaia replied, stepping inside with a grateful smile. As Masaru headed off to take out the trash, she made her way up the stairs, already knowing the way by heart.

Kaia padded her way up the stairs, her steps light but steady, the familiar creak of the Bakugo household floors making her feel a little nostalgic. She stopped just outside Katsuki’s bedroom door, pausing for a second to hear the faint sound of his music playing low — a sharp contrast to how loud he usually blasted it.

She lifted her hand and gave the door two soft knocks.

“It's open,” Katsuki’s voice called out, rough but casual.

Pushing the door open, Kaia stepped inside.

Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, his usual scowl softened by the comfortable quiet. His eyes flicked up to her as she entered.

“Tch. You took your sweet time.”

Kaia smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. I had to tell my mom first. She’d send a search party if I vanished without notice.”

Katsuki snorted at that, shifting back against the wall with a more relaxed posture. “Hmph. Figures.”

She crossed the room and settled on the floor with her back against his bed, stretching her legs out in front of her.

After a moment, Kaia tilted her head back slightly, looking at him. “You doing okay? After the festival, I mean.”

Katsuki’s eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling for a beat too long before answering. “Yeah. Fine.”

Kaia didn’t push. She knew better. If something weighed on his mind, he’d talk when he was ready.

Instead, she let the quiet hang between them, both of them sitting in the same room, comfortable in the kind of silence only old friends understood. “You know,” she started quietly, “I meant what I said before the match. About making it up to you when we’re both stronger.”

Katsuki’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp but not unkind. “Yeah, I know you did.” His voice wasn’t laced with his usual sharpness — it held something closer to understanding, maybe even appreciation.

Kaia leaned her head back against the side of his bed, her voice a little softer. “You won, but you didn’t look happy about it.”

“Tch.” Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. His hands rested on his knees, clenching and unclenching. “Because it didn’t feel like a damn win. He held back.” His voice lowered, frustration threading through each word. “I wanted a real fight. I wanted him to throw everything at me — and he didn’t.”

Kaia’s expression softened. “I get it. I saw the way you fought out there... you deserved a real fight.” She paused, her voice carrying quiet reassurance. “But you were still the strongest one out there. You earned that win, even if it didn’t come the way you wanted.”

Katsuki didn’t respond right away, just let out a small, dry huff of air — almost a laugh, but not quite. His crimson eyes met hers. “You’re the only one who’d say it like that.”

Kaia gave a slight smile. “Because it’s true.” Then, nudging his leg with her foot, she added, “Besides, we’ve got years ahead of us. You’ll get that real fight, and so will I.”

Katsuki let out a soft grunt, leaning back against the wall behind him. “Damn right we will.” His voice dropped, more genuine this time. “You better not hold back either.”

Kaia chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kats.”

The two sat there for a while longer, letting the weight of the past few days settle. The sun shifted in the sky, casting a warm glow through the window — and for the first time since the festival, the tension in Katsuki’s shoulders seemed to ease. Kaia leaned back slightly against the edge of Katsuki’s bed, the quiet hum of the neighbourhood outside filling the space. For the first time in a while, the two of them just sat — no competition, no sharp remarks, just comfort.

But then, Katsuki’s voice broke through, low and unexpected.

“…I’m sorry.”

Kaia blinked, slowly turning her head toward him, brows lifting in surprise. His tone wasn’t sharp, wasn’t defensive — it was rare, raw, honest. “What?” she asked softly, unsure if she’d heard him right.

He didn’t look at her right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the scuff marks near his door, jaw tight like the words were fighting their way out.

“I’m sayin’ I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice rougher, but steady. “For pushin’ you away back then. I thought... the further I kept people, the easier it’d be to stay ahead. To win. Even if that meant losin’ you too.”

Kaia’s heart squeezed at the confession, her chest heavy with words she didn’t know how to speak. He rarely, if ever, let himself be this open.

“I miss havin’ you around,” Katsuki added after a pause, his voice softer now, the sharp edges dulled. “I bet my hag misses you even more, though. She doesn’t shut up about you.”

Kaia let out a small laugh, her smile faint but warm. “She always did like me better than you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered around the edges. She nudged his shoulder with hers, letting the moment settle, but her eyes lingered on him a little longer.

Katsuki glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, but there was something behind his gaze — something unspoken, a quiet shift that didn’t need to be named.

“Guess I was stupid for thinkin’ pushin’ you away would make me stronger,” he muttered, voice dropping just enough to carry meaning. “You’ve always been the one person who never let me off easy.”

Kaia’s smile softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I never will.”

Their eyes met for a beat longer than it should have, the air shifting slightly around them, heavy with things unsaid — things neither of them was ready to voice, but both were starting to feel.

She leaned her head back against the wall, letting the silence return, but this time it hummed with the promise of something new. The old trio — her, Izuku, Katsuki — they had history. But this moment felt like the start of something different entirely.

Just as the quiet between Kaia and Katsuki settled again, the door swung open with a dramatic flair.

“There you are brat!” Mitsuki’s voice rang out. “Kaia, you better stay for dinner. It’s already almost done and I made enough for an army!”

Kaia blinked, then smiled politely. “Oh, I wouldn’t wanna impose—”

“Nonsense!” Mitsuki waved a hand. “You’ll stay.”

“No, she won’t!” Katsuki snapped, glaring over at his mom. “She’s got better places to be!”

“Shut up, Katsuki! You’re not gonna chase her out just ‘cause you’re emotionally constipated!”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”

“You heard me, ya walking anger issue!”

As the volume escalated into a full-blown shouting match, Kaia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Masaru shuffled quietly behind his wife, muttering a weak, “Welcome back, Kaia,” and offered a small smile. She nodded warmly in return, still chuckling as Katsuki and his mom bickered like it was a competitive sport.

Eventually, they all made it to the dinner table.

The meal itself was a strange but comforting blend of chaos and calm. Kaia and Mitsuki chatted the most, the older woman asking about her studies, teasing her about the sports festival, and reminiscing a bit about when Kaia used to come over as a kid. Masaru sat silently, sipping his tea and sneaking glances at his wife like he still couldn’t believe he’d married her. Katsuki ate quietly beside Kaia, brooding with his usual scowl, but Kaia could see the way his shoulders relaxed slightly now and then, especially when their knees brushed under the table and he didn’t pull away.

After dinner, while Mitsuki and Masaru cleaned up — well, Mitsuki cleaned and barked orders while Masaru obediently followed — Katsuki grabbed his hoodie from the couch and grunted in Kaia’s direction.

“I’ll walk you back.”

Kaia pulled on her sneakers with a small smile, letting the door close behind them as the early evening settled around them. The air had cooled, and stars had just begun to twinkle against the deepening sky. Their footsteps were slow, quiet, falling into rhythm on the sidewalk.

As the two walked, they didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… easy. Familiar. Like finding your favorite song again after years of forgetting it.

“You didn’t have to,” Kaia said eventually, glancing up at him. “Walk me back.”

“Didn’t want you out here alone,” Katsuki muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Then, after a beat, “…And you’re like three streets over, idiot. Not like it’s a trek.”

Kaia bumped his shoulder lightly. “Still sweet, though.”

“Shut up.”

But the corner of his mouth twitched again — that tiny almost-smile he only let out when he thought no one would notice.

They reached her street too soon, and Kaia slowed in front of her gate.

“Well… thanks for dinner. And the walk,” she said, meeting his eyes under the soft glow of the streetlamp.

Katsuki nodded once, lingering like he might say something more. But instead, he gave her a low, “See you tomorrow.”

Kaia smiled, her heart a little warmer than before. “Yeah… see you.”

She watched as he turned and walked off down the street, hands in his pockets, hood pulled up — and for the first time in a long time, she felt like something that had been broken between them was starting to mend.

Not all the way. Not yet.

But it was a start.

Chapter Text

The start of the new week came quicker than Kaia expected. U.A.'s halls buzzed with even more energy than usual, the aftermath of the Sports Festival still the hot topic on everyone’s lips. Posters were being updated, photos were passed around, and the first-year students — especially from Class 1-A — were minor celebrities around campus.

Kaia walked through the main building, her bag slung casually over her shoulder. Along the way, a few upperclassmen and even some second-year hero students offered her nods of acknowledgment, while others stopped her entirely.

"Yo, Mikage! That earth wave move during your match was insane!" one third-year called out.

"Seriously, you were amazing out there," another added. "That quirk of yours is no joke."

Kaia smiled and thanked them, a little bashful under the attention but still proud. Even a couple of Class 1-B students, usually competitive to a fault, made a point to stop her in the hallway.

“Hey, Kaia,” one of them grinned. “We were all watching from the stands — you really held your own. Not surprised you made it to the top three.”

“Thanks,” Kaia replied warmly, “you guys didn’t look half-bad yourselves.”

By the time she reached Class 1-A’s door, the buzz of conversation was already bouncing off the walls. She walked over to Izuku’s desk, her usual place whenever she had time to kill before homeroom, and perched herself on the edge of it, the two of them slipping into easy conversation like old times.

The topic jumped from hero moves, to quirks, to the festival, to random everyday stuff — the kind of effortless talk that only happens between two people who’ve known each other their whole lives.

Mid-laugh, the classroom door slid open with its usual sharp rattle. Katsuki stepped in, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his usual scowl in place. As he walked past, his hand lightly came down on Kaia’s head in a casual, unspoken gesture — a head pat, rough but not unkind — before he moved toward his desk.

Izuku glanced up, catching the moment, and their eyes locked. For a second, the air hung heavy, but Izuku broke it with a soft, hopeful greeting.

“Morning, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s response came with a trademark scoff, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Tch. Whatever, nerd.”

Kaia couldn’t help but smile to herself, watching the familiar but slightly softer exchange unfold. Things weren’t perfect between the two boys, not yet — but just like her own friendship with Katsuki, it felt like the old threads were slowly weaving themselves back together.

The sharp ring of the bell cut through the lively morning chatter, prompting everyone to quickly shuffle to their seats. Kaia hopped down from Izuku’s desk, sliding into her seat just as the classroom door opened.

Aizawa strolled in, wrapped in his usual yellow sleeping bag like he’d just woken up seconds before stepping through the door. His eyes lazily scanned the room, but his voice came out clear and direct.

“Settle down. We’ve got something important to cover this morning — and a guest who’ll be assisting.”

Right on cue, the door slid open again, and Midnight stepped inside, her usual confidence radiating through the room. A few students straightened up instinctively, especially Kaminari and Mineta — though for very different reasons.

“Good morning, Class 1-A~” she greeted with a playful lilt, her heels clicking lightly against the floor as she walked to the front. “Today’s lesson is all about identity — specifically, your hero identities!”

Excited murmurs rippled through the classroom as the announcement sank in. Kaia felt her heart jump a little at the idea. My hero name, huh? She sat up straighter, already feeling ideas swirl through her mind.

Iida, ever the efficient class rep, stood up to pass around a stack of small whiteboards and markers, his motions crisp and precise.

“As instructed! Everyone, please take one — we’re to write our chosen hero name on these for the class to see!”

Aizawa gave a slight nod, his tired gaze sweeping over the room. “The names you choose today will shape your future image as a pro. So take this seriously.”

Midnight grinned, placing a hand on her hip. “Remember — your hero name is more than just cool branding. It’s how the world will come to know you. Make sure it fits not just your quirk, but your heart.”

Kaia twirled the marker between her fingers, staring down at the blank whiteboard. Excitement mixed with a tiny flicker of nerves. This name’s going to stick... better make it count.

She glanced around at her classmates — each person deep in thought or already scribbling away. From across the room, her eyes briefly met Katsuki’s, who was glaring down at his board like it had personally offended him. The two shared a faint look, one that almost said let’s see what you come up with, before focusing back on the task at hand.

About ten minutes ticked by, the air in the classroom buzzing with anticipation and concentration as everyone scribbled and erased and scribbled again on their whiteboards. Some names were bold and flashy, others more personal and thoughtful.

Finally, Midnight clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Alright, time’s up! Let’s start hearing what you’ve got, one by one!”

One after another, the students stood up, holding their boards high as they shared their names with pride, a few earning cheers or laughter from their classmates. When it was finally Izuku’s turn, he stood slowly, gripping the edges of his whiteboard, his green eyes shining with a quiet resolve.

He turned the board around.

Deku.

The name written in clean, simple strokes. A name that once stung like a slap in the face — the cruel nickname Katsuki had thrown at him for years, using it as a reminder of everything he supposedly couldn’t be. But Izuku’s voice was calm and certain as he explained:

“I want to go by Deku. Uraraka told me that ‘Deku’ sounds like the word for ‘You can do it.’ So... I want to make this name a symbol of hope — for myself and for anyone who needs it.”

Kaia blinked, her throat tightening slightly with emotion. Her heart swelled with pride as she watched him stand there, looking so sure of himself. That little boy who once trailed behind her and Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes — now choosing to turn an insult into something powerful, something positive.

She couldn’t help but smile softly. That’s the Izuku I’ve always known... brave in ways most people never see.

After Izuku sat back down, the room settled for a moment, and Midnight nodded approvingly at his choice.

"Nice meaning behind it, Midoriya," she said with a wink before moving on. "Alright — next!"

A few more students shared their names until Midnight’s gaze landed on Kaia.

“Mikage, you're up.”

Kaia stood slowly, her whiteboard held neatly in both hands. There was a flicker of nerves in her chest, but it was quickly drowned out by quiet confidence. She flipped the board around for everyone to see.

Tectonic.

Her voice was calm but steady. “My hero name is Tectonic.”

A few classmates tilted their heads, some nodding in immediate understanding, while others seemed curious. Midnight raised a brow with interest.

“That’s a strong-sounding name. Care to explain the meaning behind it?”

Kaia nodded once.
“It’s inspired by tectonic plates — the way they shift and shape the world around them. My quirk is all about manipulating earth, but it’s also about strength beneath the surface, the kind of strength people don’t always see coming. Tectonic plates move slow, but when they do — they change everything.”

For a moment, the room was silent, and then a wave of murmurs followed — impressed and thoughtful. A few of the girls exchanged grins, and Izuku turned in his seat to flash her an encouraging thumbs-up. Even from across the room, Kaia felt Katsuki’s sharp gaze land on her, and when she glanced his way, the corner of his mouth twitched, just enough to hint at approval, though his usual gruffness kept him quiet.

Midnight offered her a bright smile.
“Very fitting. Strong name for a strong future hero.”

Kaia sat back down, heart steady, her fingers curling around the edges of her board. She felt good about it — proud, even. And though the class moved on to the next student, her mind lingered on the meaning. It felt right. A name for the girl who was determined to change her world, one step at a time.

The last name to be revealed was Katsuki’s. He stood up, sharp and unbothered as usual, flipping his board around with the same aggressive energy he brought to everything.

King Explosion Murder.

The class went dead silent for a moment — and then, almost like a switch flipped, the room erupted into laughter. Even Kaia couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that slipped past her lips, shaking her head slightly at the ridiculousness of it, though her eyes softened at the sight of him standing there, arms crossed like he was daring anyone to question it.

Midnight raised a hand to quiet the room, although there was an amused smile tugging at her lips.
“Bakugo... we’ll workshop that. Together. Soon.”

Katsuki gave a sharp click of his tongue but didn’t argue, flopping back down into his seat and folding his arms, muttering under his breath.

With the last name shared, Midnight collected the final whiteboard and turned toward the class with a clap of her hands.
“Alright, great work, everyone. I’m excited to see where all of you go with these names — it’s the first real step in claiming your hero identity. That’s all for me this morning!”

She gave them a playful salute and sauntered out of the room, the energy in the air still buzzing from the fun of it all. But before the class could fully settle, the door slid open again — this time with a loud and enthusiastic voice following it.

“YEAHHH! GOOD MORNING, CLASS 1-A!”

Present Mic strutted into the room, striking a signature pose with his fingers in the air and his shades glinting under the light.

“Hope you’ve still got energy left, because we’re diving into some English!”

A few groans echoed from the class, but Kaia couldn’t help but grin. The high from the hero name activity still lingered, and as she opened her notebook and prepped for the lesson, she felt a little more grounded.

The morning’s lessons passed in a slow, almost dreamy blur. Kaia, still riding the high of choosing her hero name. Tectonic. The name carried weight — steady and powerful, like the earth beneath her feet. It wasn’t just about her quirk. It was about who she wanted to become. Unshakable. A hero people could lean on.

When the lunch bell rang, her stomach gave a small, eager growl, and she stretched her arms overhead with a tired but content sigh. Momo and Jirou met her by the classroom door, the three girls falling into step beside each other as they joined the stream of students heading toward the cafeteria.

The energy in the school was still light and buzzing, conversations from every direction still circling around the sports festival. Kaia caught snippets of her name here and there as they walked — students from other classes complimenting her, some even nodding or waving her way, recognizing her as one of the top three. She offered a polite smile each time, her cheeks warming with quiet pride.

After grabbing their trays — Kaia opting for a hearty helping of rice, grilled chicken, and miso soup — the girls made their way to their usual table by the window, sunlight spilling in to warm the space like a cozy spotlight.

Jirou flopped down in her seat first, earbuds hanging loose around her neck, while Momo settled in gracefully, arranging her meal with the same composure she used in battle.

“So,” Jirou began, poking her chopsticks at her food before glancing up at Kaia, “Tectonic, huh? Gotta admit, that name suits you. Strong, intimIidating... but kinda classy too.”

Kaia gave a soft, sheepish laugh, stirring her soup lazily. “Thanks. I wanted something that wasn’t just about brute force, but about stability too. Something that felt... solid. Like a hero name should be.”

Momo smiled, resting her chin lightly in her palm. “It’s perfect for you. Your quirk, your style — even your personality. When you step into a fight, you’re not just powerful, Kaia. You hold the ground for others.” Her tone was gentle but sincere, and Kaia felt her chest swell with quiet pride.

“Exactly,” Kaia said softly, her gaze flicking back to the sunlight outside. “Heroes should be the ground people can stand on, not just the ones throwing punches.”

Their conversation drifted from there, flowing from internships to upcoming classes, and even who they thought would top the hero charts one day. There was an easy comfort between the three of them, the kind that came from long nights studying and early mornings training side by side.

Just as Kaia popped a bite of rice into her mouth, something soft flicked against the back of her head. Blinking, she glanced down at the table to spot a balled-up napkin resting near her tray.

She turned her head, scanning the cafeteria, and her eyes landed on him — Katsuki Bakugo, standing a few tables away, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the side of the table where Kirishima and Kaminari sat mid-conversation. His expression was the usual mix of brooding and aloof, but the corner of his mouth twitched, ever so slightly, into what Kaia recognized as his version of a smirk.

Their eyes met for a brief moment. Kaia couldn’t help the soft chuckle that slipped out, shaking her head as she turned back to her food. Jirou raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the source of the flicked napkin, and gave Kaia a knowing nudge with her elbow.

“You two are weird,” Jirou muttered playfully, taking a sip of her drink.

Kaia just smiled, a small warmth bubbling in her chest that had nothing to do with the food or the sunlight, but everything to do with the quiet, growing shifts between old friendships and something... new.

*****

After lunch, the class filed back into the training hall, bellies full but minds already sharp, knowing that anything involving Mr. Aizawa usually meant no-nonsense business. The moment everyone had settled into place, the pro hero stood at the front of the room, wrapped up in his familiar yellow capture weapon scarf, his half-lidded stare scanning the room.

“Now that the Sports Festival is behind us,” Aizawa started, his voice dry but clear, “we’ll be shifting focus to the next step in your hero education: internships.”

A ripple of interest moved through the class, students exchanging glances and sitting up a little straighter. The word internships alone was enough to light a spark of excitement, especially after the festival had showcased all of them to the public — and more importantly, to pro agencies.

Aizawa continued, tugging at the pull string of a large chart behind him. With one swift motion, it rolled downward, revealing a list of names and numbers. The chart displayed each student in Class 1A, and beside every name was a tallied count of how many agencies had submitted offers after watching their performances at the Sports Festival.

Kaia’s gaze flicked up, and when her eyes finally landed on her name — she nearly blinked in disbelief.

916 offers.

Her chest tightened slightly with surprise. She knew she had made a strong impression, but seeing the number there, bold and undeniable, was something else entirely. The room hummed with quiet murmurs as her classmates glanced her way, some wide-eyed, others offering small smiles and nods.

Before Kaia could fully process it, Aizawa’s voice cut through again.

“However,” he added, shifting the class’s attention, “the student with the highest number of offers this year is Midoriya.”

All heads turned toward Izuku, whose face lit up with both awe and modesty. The number next to his name sat even higher than Kaia’s. The boy’s fingers curled into nervous fists, but his expression was touched with pride. Kaia smiled, a warm flicker of happiness rising for her old friend.

Even Katsuki, though trying to look indifferent, let his eyes rest on the board for a beat longer. His jaw tightened slightly at his own number, lower than both Midoriya’s and Kaia’s, but he kept his reaction contained. Kaia noticed it, of course, but she also noticed the lack of biting comments or scowls — a sign of quiet growth, even if small.

Aizawa pushed forward, explaining that even those with fewer offers would still have arrangements made with pro hero agencies to ensure no one missed the chance to experience real fieldwork. But the moment lingered for Kaia. The number 916 wasn’t just a count — it was proof that all her hard work, all her doubts about belonging at U.A., were finally silenced by the recognition of the pro world.

The old trio had come a long way since the quiet days of their childhood neighbourhood. And deep down, Kaia couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

Once the initial excitement over the internship offers settled down, Mr. Aizawa began handing out thick envelopes to each student, their names neatly printed across the front. The papers inside detailed every agency that had sent them an offer, along with profiles of the pro heroes, the agency locations, and notes on what kind of training or experience each one specialized in.

When Kaia took hers, the weight of the envelope alone hinted at the sheer volume of offers. Flipping it open briefly, her eyes skimmed the first few pages, seeing names both famous and unfamiliar — pro heroes she’d admired from afar and others she barely recognized. It was a strange but thrilling feeling.

Once the last envelope had been passed out, Aizawa crossed his arms and addressed the class again, his tone as dry and straightforward as ever.

“The school day’s officially over for everyone else,” he said, “but for you lot — you have the option. You can stay here for the next hour to look over your offers, ask questions, or work on your decision. Or you can head home early.”

A soft murmur broke out across the room as students weighed the option. Some were eager to flip through their agency lists and start making decisions on the spot, while others were already thinking about the comfort of home and the chance to decompress.

Aizawa added, “I don’t care which you choose — but your final selection needs to be handed in by the end of the week.”

Kaia tapped the edge of her envelope against her desk, thinking over the decision. An extra hour at school sounded productive, but part of her liked the idea of going home, spreading all these choices out on the floor of her room, and really digging through them in peace.

She glanced toward Izuku, who was already thumbing through his stack, his brows drawn in deep focus. Katsuki, meanwhile, sat with his unopened envelope resting on his desk, arms folded behind his head, looking like he couldn’t care less — but Kaia could tell his mind was working overtime behind that sharp gaze.

As the room began to stir with movement — some students gathering their bags, others settling in for the extra hour — Kaia leaned back in her chair for a moment, soaking in the quiet satisfaction of the day. For the first time since starting U.A., it felt like the world of pro heroes wasn’t just something distant and unreachable. It was right there, waiting for her to take the next step.

Kaia slipped the envelope into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the thought of going home early already stirring a bit of excitement. She figured if she wrapped up her homework fast enough, she could squeeze in extra training at her dad’s agency — Hoshino and Yu always had a few new drills or pointers up their sleeves, and she wanted to keep her momentum from the Sports Festival going strong.

She glanced up, ready to say goodbye to Izuku, but his desk was already empty. Her seismic sense quietly mapped the soft but hurried rhythm of his footsteps echoing down the hall, and the direction was enough to tell her exactly where he was headed. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“All Might,” she whispered knowingly under her breath, shaking her head fondly.

Gathering the last of her things, Kaia moved toward the door, pausing as she passed by Katsuki’s desk. He was stuffing his hands into his pockets, having just finished tossing his things carelessly into his bag. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between distracted and thoughtful — the mood from lunch still hanging on him.

Without overthinking it, Kaia tilted her head slightly and asked, “Hey… wanna walk home with me?”

The question hung in the air for a beat longer than expected, but Katsuki finally looked up, red eyes locking onto hers. His usual sharpness softened just a little.

“Tch. Fine,” he muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His answer was gruff, but there was no bite behind it — if anything, it felt like a quiet yes he’d been hoping for.

The two of them walked out of the classroom together, side by side, the easy silence that settled between them far more comfortable than it had been in years. As they made their way through the school gates, the sun was beginning to dip low, painting the sky in warm streaks of orange and gold. Kaia couldn’t help but think about how familiar this felt — like a memory of simpler times, long before quirks and hero training made life complicated.

And from the way Katsuki walked beside her — not storming ahead, not dragging behind — it was clear the feeling wasn’t one-sided.

*****

The streets were quieter than usual, Kaia and Katsuki strolled along without much rush. Their pace was unhurried, feet scuffing the pavement in a rhythm that matched the easy silence between them. Every now and then, the breeze would pick up, stirring the leaves overhead and ruffling Kaia’s hair just enough to make her tuck it behind her ear. Katsuki caught the small motion out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.

It wasn’t awkward — not like it used to be after the years of distance between them. If anything, it felt like the kind of silence they used to share as kids. Comfortable. Familiar.

After a while, Kaia spoke up, her voice quiet but light, “You know… I was thinking about what you said the other day. About pushing me away.”

Katsuki’s hands, shoved deep into his pockets, tensed slightly at the reminder, but he didn’t interrupt.

She glanced over at him, catching the faintest trace of guilt in his expression. “You weren’t the only one who changed,” she continued, voice soft but steady. “I let the distance happen too. I guess… I was scared of where we were headed. All three of us.”

Katsuki’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp but not defensive. “Yeah, well. I was an idiot,” he muttered, kicking a stray rock on the sidewalk. “Still am, sometimes.”

Kaia let out a quiet laugh at his honesty, her head tilting toward him, the easy fondness in her expression undeniable. “Maybe. But you’re not as bad as you think.”

He let out a short huff, almost a laugh of his own. The tension in his shoulders eased just a bit.

“You’re different, y’know,” he said after a pause, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere. “Not just with your quirk. Just… you.”

Kaia blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in tone, her heart skipping in that small, telling way. She didn’t press him, didn’t ruin the moment with a joke or awkward reply — she simply smiled, letting the words settle between them like a secret.

As they reached the turn where their streets split, Katsuki slowed, glancing toward her house just a few blocks away. He gave a small nod, almost like he wanted to say more but couldn’t quite find the words.

“See ya tomorrow, Tectonic,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual, using her new hero name for the first time.

Kaia’s cheeks warmed, but she played it cool, flashing him a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. See you.”

And with that, they parted ways, the lingering warmth of the walk hanging heavy in the air long after they’d gone their separate directions.

With the extra hour gifted by her early dismissal, Kaia set herself up at the kitchen table, her textbooks spread out in front of her and the soft hum of the afternoon settling around the house. The scribble of her pen filled the silence as she worked through math problems and jot down notes for literature, the comfort of home making the task pass by quicker than usual.

Once her assignments were squared away, Kaia leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh. Her gaze drifted toward the envelope sitting neatly at the corner of the table — the one packed with her internship offers. Curiosity finally got the better of her, and she reached for it, pulling out the stack of agency request sheets.

Flipping through the offers, her eyes widened all over again at the number. 916. She hadn’t let it fully sink in until now, but seeing all those names and logos staring back at her felt… surreal. She skimmed past agencies she’d only heard of in passing, some with flashy reputations and others more modest.

But then her eyes landed on one that immediately made her expression harden: Endeavor. The name sat on the page like a bitter note in an otherwise exciting melody. The memory of him at the festival surfaced — that sharp, assessing gaze, and the offhanded, borderline possessive way he mentioned her to Shoto. She didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing the corner of the paper, she folded it and pushed it to the bottom of the stack. That one was an easy “no.”

Continuing on, her fingers paused on another name. One she wasn’t expecting.

Her father’s agency.

Her brows lifted, heart giving a curious little jump as she stared at the offer. The logo was printed in clean, bold letters — something so familiar, yet seeing it there, addressed to her, made it feel entirely different. A note was even scribbled at the bottom in her dad’s handwriting:

No pressure, kid. I know it might feel weird, but the offer's real.

She smiled softly at that. The fact that he sent an official offer, not just a conversation over dinner, said a lot. He wanted her to make the decision herself — not as her father, but as a pro offering guIidance.

Leaning back in her chair, Kaia stared at the paper for a few quiet moments. She thought about all the training sessions at his agency over the years, about Hoshino and Yu, who were practically family at this point. It felt right — a full circle kind of step. She trusted her dad and his team, and working under him as an intern wouldn’t just sharpen her skills, it would give her real field experience under eyes she knew would challenge her, but also keep her safe.

Decision made, she grabbed her pen and circled her father’s agency name neatly on the sheet.

“Guess I’m sticking with the home team,” she murmured to herself with a smile.

After changing into something casual but practical — black joggers, a fitted long-sleeve, and her favorite sneakers — Kaia grabbed her bag and headed out, hopping onto the nearest train bound for the city. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels was oddly calming, the soft chatter of other passengers filling the space around her as the city skyline crept closer with every stop.

She disembarked a few blocks away from her destination, weaving through the steady flow of pedestrians until the towering glass-and-steel building came into view. The sleek sign mounted at the entrance read:

BEDROCK SENTINEL AGENCY

The name still gave her a little spark of pride every time she saw it. The agency wasn’t as showy as some others, but it had a reputation for reliability and strength — much like her dad himself.

Pushing open the front doors, Kaia stepped into the bright, modern lobby. The receptionist, a woman in her early twenties with a warm smile, looked up from her desk the moment Kaia approached.

“Hey, Kaia! He’s up in his office — top floor,” she said with a knowing nod.

“Thanks,” Kaia replied, flashing a small smile before making her way to the elevator.

As the doors slid closed and the elevator hummed to life, Kaia leaned back against the wall, feeling her nerves settle. The higher the elevator climbed, the steadier her heartbeat became. It was always like that when her dad was near — the strange weight of the world, the pressure to prove herself, all of it seemed to lighten in his presence. No matter how tough things got, her father had always been her anchor.

When the doors opened onto the top floor, the familiar layout of the executive wing stretched out before her. Her seismic sense subtly traced through the walls, instinctively mapping out the people inside. Her father’s strong, grounded presence was unmistakable, but there were three other signatures mingled with his. A smile tugged at her lips when she recognized them: Hoshino and Yu — and one more, softer but just as familiar.

Her mom.

Her dad must’ve picked her up from work early, bringing her here like a small, family surprise.

Kaia padded quietly down the hallway until she stood outside her dad’s office door. The muffled sound of conversation drifted through the sturdy wood — her mother’s laugh, Hoshino’s dry humour, Yu’s easy-going voice, and her dad’s deep, steady tone grounding them all.

For a moment, Kaia lingered outside, listening, a warmth blooming quietly in her chest.

Just as Kaia lifted her hand to knock, her father’s voice called out from the other side of the door, steady and certain — like he’d been expecting her all along.

“You don’t have to knock, sweetheart. Come in.”

A small, almost amused smile tugged at her lips. Typical. His seismic sense was just as sharp as hers — probably sharper, if she was being honest. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee and the faint leather polish of his office wrapping around her like a quiet welcome.

The room was bright, afternoon sun streaming through the wide windows that overlooked the city skyline. Her father sat behind his desk, leaning back slightly in his chair, arms crossed but posture relaxed. Off to the side, Hoshino lounged against the windowsill, hands tucked into the pockets of her sleek uniform jacket, while Yu was perched on the edge of the leather couch, lazily flipping through some paperwork.

And sitting comfortably on the far side of the room, Amara looked up from her coffee cup with a warm smile.

“There’s our girl,” Amara said softly, eyes lighting up as Kaia stepped in.

“Hey, kid,” Hoshino added with a nod.

Yu offered a playful salute. “About time you showed up. Boss was starting to pace.”

Zaire only huffed out a soft chuckle at the teasing but his gaze settled on Kaia with unmistakable pride. “So,” he said, folding his hands together on the desk. “You’ve made your choice?”

Kaia’s fingers tightened slightly on the envelope still in her hands — the one stamped with the Bedrock Sentinel Agency’s seal. She met her father’s gaze and gave a firm, quiet nod.

“Yeah,” she said. “I want to intern here. With you.”

For just a second, the tough professional exterior her father wore softened, and that quiet, proud smile — the one only family got to see — appeared on his face. Amara’s smile grew too, clearly touched. Hoshino let out a low whistle and Yu grinned, giving her a fist bump as she moved further inside.

“Welcome to the team, Kaia,” her dad said. “We’re glad to have you.”

Chapter Text

The following week marked the official start of internship week at U.A., and the first-year hero courses were noticeably quiet as students packed up and headed off to agencies across the city. For Kaia, there was no need for early train rides to campus or classroom check-ins — her internship was a little more personal, rooted at the very place that had shaped much of her childhood: The Bedrock Sentinel Agency.

Bright and early that morning, Kaia arrived at the agency, stepping through the glass doors with a mix of excitement and nerves. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar atmosphere washed over her — crisp, professional, yet somehow still warm. The receptionist greeted her with a knowing smile, pointing her toward the back offices where Hoshino and Yu were already waiting.

“Morning, rookie,” Hoshino teased the moment she walked in, arms crossed, leaning lazily against the doorway of the agency’s bullpen. “First day on the job. You ready to see the unglamorous side of hero work?”

Yu waved her over with a clipboard in hand. “Don’t let her scare you. The field stuff is only part of the job — the real heartbeat of an agency is in the details.”

Kaia spent most of the morning shadowing both of them as they gave her the full rundown on the inner workings of the agency. From the endless stream of paperwork that kept hero reports and missions in check, to the carefully logged databases of villain encounters, and even the maze of phone calls that her father’s staff fielded every hour — it was clear that being a hero wasn’t all about flashy fights or patrol routes.

“There’s more to this than just putting on a suit and saving the day,” Yu explained, glancing over a stack of case files. “If the paperwork’s sloppy, the agency suffers. Heroes can’t afford loose ends.”

Kaia listened carefully, jotting down notes on everything from proper filing to the communication systems they used to stay in touch during missions. Hoshino even had her draft a few mock reports, walking her through how to document villain confrontations clearly and professionally.

By the afternoon, Kaia was behind one of the front desks, observing how incoming calls were handled — especially the ones from civilians asking for help, or other heroes checking in about joint operations. Yu sat beside her, coaching her through the right way to handle both urgent situations and more routine agency business.

Despite the slower pace compared to U.A.’s usual high-energy training, Kaia felt a quiet sense of pride settling in her chest. It wasn’t glamorous, but this work mattered — it was the foundation that made every rescue, every mission, and every moment in the field possible.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her dad was watching her progress, even if he wasn’t hovering over her shoulder.

As the sun dipped lower behind the city skyline, the hum of activity around the Bedrock Sentinel Agency began to settle into its evening rhythm. Kaia had just finished organizing the last of the case files for the day, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. Before she could even think about her training session with Hoshino and Yu, the sharp buzz of Yu’s comm rang out across the bullpen.

The seasoned hero glanced at the incoming alert on his wrist device, easy-going expression tightening slightly. “Looks like I’ve got to head out,” Yu said, already reaching for his gear. “Minor break-in downtown. Shouldn’t take long, but protocol says I’ve got to suit up.”

Kaia blinked, half-rising from her seat. “Want me to tag along?”

Yu shook his head with a soft laugh, slinging his jacket on. “Not this time, rookie. You’ll get your fill soon enough. Besides, you’ve got company.”

Kaia barely had time to turn before Hoshino stepped into view, arms crossed, eyebrow raised — the very definition of “no-nonsense.” Kaia’s stomach dipped slightly as the two women exchanged a silent glance. Yu, clearly amused by Kaia’s expression, gave her a parting wave and headed for the door.

“Guess it’s just us,” Hoshino said dryly, the corner of her mouth twitching into a faint, knowing smirk. “You didn’t think you were getting off easy, did you?”

Kaia let out a slow, resigned sigh, dragging a hand through her curls. “Didn’t think so,” she muttered. She’d known from the moment Yu answered that call that her evening just became twice as intense.

Hoshino tilted her head toward the training wing of the agency, already turning on her heel. “Suit up. Meet me in the sparring room in ten. If you’re going to walk in your dad’s shadow, you’ll have to show me you can hold your own first.”

Kaia straightened her posture, determination sparking in her chest despite the playful dread. “Yes, ma’am.”

And as she jogged off to gear up, she couldn’t help the flicker of excitement that danced under her skin. Hard or not, this was exactly the challenge she signed up for.

The sparring room lights flicked on, washing the wide space in cold, bright white. Kaia stepped inside, her footsteps light, muscles already buzzing with tension. She was no stranger to this room — nor to Hoshino’s brand of tough-love training. But the rules here weren’t the same as sparring at U.A. or even at home with her father.

Her dad had drilled patience into her bones. “Wait. Listen. Feel. The opening will come.” It was one of his earliest lessons, one she never forgot. And right now, she could already feel the lesson pressing at the back of her mind as Hoshino stood relaxed and composed across the mat, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

"You ready?" Hoshino’s voice echoed lightly in the room.

Kaia took a calming breath, letting her seismic sense expand through the floor, mapping the faintest movements of Hoshino’s weight shifts. "Yeah. I’m ready."

The second the words left her lips, Hoshino moved — fast, like the crack of lightning. But Kaia didn’t rush to meet her. She stayed grounded, feet planted firm, feeling every step and shift, waiting for her opening.

Hoshino aimed a sharp kick toward Kaia’s side, but Kaia pivoted smoothly, her body tilting just out of range rather than blocking or countering right away. She wasn’t about to make the first strike, not until the right moment revealed itself.

Hoshino arched a brow mid-motion, catching the decision. “Holding back?”

Kaia’s lips curved into a slight smile, her eyes calm. “Just waiting.”

That was all the warning Hoshino got before Kaia moved — precise and sharp, striking at a gap Hoshino left as she recovered from the kick. Kaia’s fist connected lightly with her shoulder, pulling her strike just before full impact. It was a test hit — enough to show she’d seen the opening, not enough to land a real blow.

Hoshino stepped back, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Smart. Zaire taught you well.”

Kaia lowered her hands slightly, keeping her breathing even, body loose and ready. “Patience isn’t always flashy, but it works.”

The sparring continued, Hoshino pushing harder each time, using feints and speed to try and bait Kaia into rushing. But Kaia held her ground, always waiting, always watching. She let the vibrations in the floor and the tension in the air guide her, sensing the moment Hoshino’s weight shifted just a little too far forward, or her stance left a sliver of an opening.

Finally, toward the end of the session, Kaia caught another perfect moment. As Hoshino lunged, Kaia sidestepped, twisting low and sweeping her leg toward Hoshino’s back foot — sending her stumbling for once.

Hoshino caught herself easily, straightening up with a small nod. “That’s more like it.”

Kaia, winded but proud, wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “Told you. I was just waiting.”

Hoshino let out a soft, approving laugh as she stretched out her shoulder. “You’ve got the instinct, Kaia. Trust it.”

As Kaia walked over to grab a towel, her body still buzzing from the fight, she felt something deep inside her shift. The world felt sharper now, every sensation more defined. Training with Hoshino wasn’t just about learning new moves; it was about understanding her own limits and how to push beyond them.

As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she caught Hoshino watching her, a subtle nod of approval in her eyes.

“Keep this up, Tectonic,” Hoshino said with a grin. “You’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

The soft orange glow of the setting sun spilled across the rooftops, casting long shadows against the city skyline. The cool breeze of the evening brushed against Kaia’s skin as she stepped barefoot onto the smooth stone of the rooftop patio, the city humming beneath her feet. The familiar, grounding pulse of her seismic sense spread outward, every vibration from deep in the earth to the lightest footstep inside the building painting a full picture in her mind.

She closed her eyes, letting herself settle into the moment — her muscles still warm from the sparring session with Hoshino, her breath steady, her mind clear. Slowly, Kaia raised her arms, curling her fingers into the first pose of Hung Gar, the very foundation of her earthbending movements.

Each stance was precise, steady, and rooted in control. Flowing like stone through water.

Her body moved fluidly from one technique to the next, the world falling away as she focused on the rhythm — step, shift, strike, flow. With each grounded stance, her connection to the earth deepened, the sensation of the city’s life becoming a steady, living heartbeat under her bare feet. It was here, in these moments, that she felt the most like herself.

Behind her, the soft creak of the office door opened. Zaire stepped inside, the sound of his shoes quiet but distinct to her senses — no need for her to turn. His meeting was finished. She knew the moment his presence appeared on the edge of her awareness, strong and steady as always.

He paused, watching her for a moment, arms crossed loosely. There was pride in his eyes, but also an unspoken understanding. This wasn’t just training — this was part of who she was.

Without a word, Zaire slid off his jacket, setting it neatly on the patio railing, and stepped out beside her. Like his daughter, he kicked off his shoes, feeling the earth beneath him. His stance mirrored hers almost effortlessly, his movements practiced and sure from years of discipline.

Side by side, they moved in perfect sync — their forms flowing through the Hung Gar techniques with measured precision, father and daughter bonded by more than just blood, but by instinct, tradition, and trust. The silence between them wasn’t awkward or empty — it was peaceful, full of unspoken respect.

The world below them kept moving, the sun dipping lower behind the skyscrapers, casting the two into a silhouette against the dimming sky.

When their last form ended, both of them held their stance, grounded and still.

Zaire glanced sideways, a quiet, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Your form’s sharper. You’ve been listening to the earth.”

Kaia lowered her arms, her chest rising and falling with calm breaths. “It’s easier to hear it when I’m not rushing.”

Zaire nodded, looking out across the city, the light glinting off the buildings. “That’s how you win, Kaia. Power’s easy. But patience, control — that’s what makes you unshakable.”

She looked up at him, warmth blooming behind her tired eyes. “I know. I had a good teacher.”

For a while longer, they stayed like that, side by side on the rooftop as the city sank into twilight. No more lessons. No more training. Just father and daughter, grounded and at ease.

*****

The quiet hum of the car engine filled the space between Kaia and her father as they cruised through the city streets, the fading light painting gold across the windshield. Her muscles still hummed with the lingering ache of training, but the steady rhythm of the drive and the sound of her father’s voice put her at ease.

Zaire’s one hand rested casually on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against the leather as they waited at a red light. “Your mom texted me about twenty minutes ago,” he said, glancing her way with a small smile. “She’s got dinner waiting for us. Said something about making your favorite — and that you’re not allowed to be late.”

Kaia let out a soft laugh, stretching her arms out over her head with a satisfied groan. “She always knows how to make a day better.”

As the light changed and they moved forward, her phone vibrated against her leg. She glanced down at the screen, the lock screen lighting up with a message. The name made her brows lift slightly.

Katsuki:
looks like you had a good first day.

Attached was a link to an article — a snapshot from across the neighbouring rooftop. There she was, mid-stance, side by side with her father, both silhouetted against the sunset like something out of a hero magazine spread. The image must’ve been snapped by a reporter or fan who recognized Zaire, but the timing of the message, the quiet acknowledgment from Katsuki, made her lips tug into a small, genuine smile.

A quiet chuckle slipped from her.

Zaire glanced at her from the driver’s seat, eyebrows raised. “What’s funny?”

Kaia tilted the phone so he could glance at it during the next stoplight, the image still bright on the screen. “Looks like we made the news,” she mused, “someone got a picture of us on the roof. Katsuki sent it to me.”

Her father’s brow lifted just slightly, the smallest glint of curiosity playing behind his eyes. “Bakugo, huh?” he mused, his tone even, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Guess I’m not the only one paying attention to your first day.”

Kaia looked out the window, the city lights beginning to twinkle against the dusk sky, but her smile lingered. She didn’t reply right away, but the faint warmth that settled in her chest didn’t go unnoticed.

When they pulled into the driveway, the scent of her mother’s cooking was already wafting through the air, welcoming them home. Kaia tucked her phone away, feeling lighter than she had all day — from the training, from the small victory of her first real day at the agency, and from a simple text that said more than it seemed.

The moment Kaia and her father stepped through the front door, the inviting aroma of her mother’s cooking wrapped around them like a soft blanket. The faint sizzle from the kitchen and the clatter of plates were all too familiar, and Kaia felt the last bit of her day’s exhaustion melt away.

“About time you two got home,” Amara called from the kitchen without missing a beat. “Dinner’s almost on the table.”

Kaia kicked off her shoes and exchanged a knowing look with her dad as they both followed the scent toward the dining room. The table was already set, her mother standing proudly at the head with her hands on her hips, still in her work clothes but wearing that gentle smile that always managed to soothe Kaia.

“Hope you’re hungry — your favorite tonight.”

Zaire leaned over, planting a quick kiss to Amara’s temple. “You spoil us,” he teased lightly, and Kaia couldn’t help but grin at the quiet affection between them.

As they all sat down, passing bowls and plates around, the day’s chatter started to flow as easily as the food. Zaire recapped some lighter parts of his day at the agency, and Kaia told them about her first real round of administrative work and training with Hoshino.

About halfway through the meal, Amara reached for her phone, unlocking it with a smirk. “Speaking of work,” she hummed, turning the screen toward Kaia and Zaire, “my coworkers were talking about this little gem earlier.”

Kaia’s eyes flicked to the phone, instantly recognizing the article — the same one Katsuki had sent her earlier. The headline read:

‘Like Father, Like Daughter: Future Pro Hero “Tectonic” Spotted Training with Bedrock’

The photo was the same, perfectly timed to capture her and her father mid-practice on the rooftop patio. The sunset behind them cast the pair in golden light, and even though it wasn’t posed, the connection and focus between them were obvious.

Zaire let out a soft snort of amusement, setting down his glass. “Didn’t think someone had their camera on us.”

Amara chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are naturals. The whole article was nothing but praise — apparently you’ve got people talking already, sweetheart.”

Kaia felt her cheeks flush, a mix of pride and a little shy embarrassment. “It was just practice…”

Zaire arched a brow at her. “Practice or not, you’ve worked hard enough to get noticed. Let it happen.”

Amara reached across the table, gently squeezing her daughter’s hand. “And you’ve earned every bit of it.”

Kaia nodded, her heart feeling a little fuller.

After a few moments, her phone buzzed again — another short message from Katsuki.

Katsuki:
Try not to get a big head, rockhead.

Kaia let out a soft, amused huff, tucking her phone away before her parents could ask. Even as the conversation drifted back to the usual everyday talk, the warmth from that small, quiet exchange stayed with her.

*****

Later that night, Kaia lay sprawled out on her bed, hair still damp from her shower, dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts. Her phone lit up over and over again, buzzing against the comforter with the chaos of her class group chat — message after message, half her classmates blowing up about the article that had surfaced earlier.

Mina: Kaiaaa!! Look at you and your dad all pro-hero material!!
Kaminari: Bro, you guys looked sick — who even caught that picture?!
Sero: Can I get that photographer's number?? I need those angles for the next school event.

Kaia snorted, scrolling lazily through the string of memes and screenshots everyone had already churned out. A few private messages blinked through too — one from Izuku, his usual sweet self.

Izuku:
That was so cool, Kaia! The way you and your dad were in sync... I hope I can train like that one day too.

Her heart softened a little, typing back a simple:

Kaia:
Thanks, Deku. I’m sure you will — you’ve already got the heart for it.

She set the phone down beside her, ready to unwind and throw on a random video before bed when the screen lit up again. But this time it wasn’t a text.

It was a call.

Katsuki.

Kaia blinked, sitting up a little, the tiniest smile tugging at her lips before she hit ‘accept’ and held the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” she answered softly, voice still a little warm from the laughter she hadn’t quite shaken from the chat.

His voice came through, low and familiar. “Saw the damn article earlier.”

Kaia chuckled lightly, sinking back against her pillows. “Yeah? I noticed. You sent it to me before my mom could.”

There was a pause on the other end, but it wasn’t awkward. More like he was thinking — or maybe just listening to her voice for a second longer.

“You looked happy.” His voice dropped just a little, almost careful, but still carrying that rough honesty only he could pull off. “Tch — it suits you.”

Her stomach flipped, not in the same way it did during training or battle, but in that quiet, fluttering way she wasn’t used to with him.

“You called just to tell me that?” she teased gently, but there was no bite in her tone.

“Maybe.” His voice rumbled on the other side, softer now. “Or maybe I just wanted to hear your voice, dumbass.”

Kaia didn’t answer right away — too stunned, too touched — a rare warmth blooming in her chest at the way his words lingered.

“Well... I’m glad you did,” she murmured back. “It’s nice.”

For a few minutes, neither of them rushed to fill the silence. The city hummed through her open window, the night stretching out calm and easy.

Eventually, he broke the quiet with his usual sharpness, but the softness was still there.

“Get some sleep, rockhead. You’ve got another day of hero work tomorrow.”

Kaia smiled, the kind that didn’t fade even after the call ended.

“Night, Katsuki.”

“Night.”

The call clicked off, but Kaia stayed curled under the covers for a long while, staring at her ceiling — that fluttering feeling still tucked safely beneath her ribs.

Chapter Text

Halfway through internship week, Kaia felt like she’d already learned more than she ever could’ve imagined. Working alongside her father, Hoshino, and Yu — every day sharpened her skills in ways classroom lessons never could. She wasn’t just absorbing facts, she was living them.

Late that morning, her father had waved her over as she wrapped up organizing reports with Hoshino. “Suit up”, he’d said. “Time for patrol.”

It wasn’t long before the two of them stood side by side at the agency’s rooftop entrance, the city stretching out before them, both geared up in their hero suits — hers still new but fitting her more naturally by the day. The air was crisp, the sun hanging bright above the towers, the usual hum of traffic and conversation pulsing below.

Zaire glanced over at her, adjusting the fit of his gloves. “You probably think patrols are all about catching bad guys, don’t you?”

Kaia tilted her head, curiosity flickering behind her eyes. “I mean... isn’t that part of it?”

A low chuckle rumbled from her father as he stepped off the edge of the roof, landing steadily on the next building with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. Kaia followed close, boots connecting solidly with the concrete.

“Catching villains is the flashy part,” Zaire said as they kept moving, their pace even and unhurried. “But that’s not why we’re really out here.”

She glanced sideways, listening intently as he went on.

“Heroes show their faces to ease the minds of the people. Knowing we’re around — present, watchful — that’s what keeps the city breathing easy. It's not about waiting for trouble. It's about preventing it just by being here.”

Kaia absorbed his words as her gaze swept the streets below. Shop owners chatting with regulars, kids tugging parents by the hand toward a nearby park, an elderly couple sitting on a bench sharing coffee. None of them noticed her and her dad above, but all of them — knowingly or not — were wrapped in the quiet comfort of their presence.

It clicked. Heroes didn’t just fight villains. They stood for safety, for peace of mind, for the space between chaos and calm.

She nodded slowly, her chest swelling a little with quiet pride. “So we’re like... living reassurance.”

Zaire’s lips quirked into a small, approving smile. “Exactly.”

The two continued their patrol, leaping from building to building, occasionally stopping to lend a hand or greet locals. Civilians lit up when they saw her father, and more than once Kaia caught curious glances her way — recognition beginning to bloom.

The sun hung a little lower as Zaire and Kaia rounded another corner of their patrol route, moving smoothly along the rooftops. The city below was lively, but calm — the kind of afternoon that felt settled, with no signs of trouble stirring.

As they came to a stop on the edge of a commercial block, Kaia’s seismic sense picked up familiar footsteps. At first, she tilted her head, frowning slightly. Heavy, sharp, determined strides... she knew that rhythm.

Zaire seemed to notice too, glancing down toward the street just as the pair stepped into view.

There, walking along the sidewalk, was none other than Best Jeanist — tall and composed as always, dressed in his signature denim-themed hero suit, his posture immaculate. But the real surprise wasn’t him.

Trailing behind Jeanist, looking every bit like a storm cloud about to burst, was Katsuki.

Kaia’s eyes widened, her mouth twitching at the sight of him. He wasn’t in his usual, rugged, spiky-headed glory. His hero costume’s top half, gauntlets, and boots were still there, but the rest had been replaced by a stiff pair of high-waisted jeans — clearly Best Jeanist’s doing. To make matters worse, his wild blond hair was tamed into a neat, flat combover, probably the result of a whole bottle of hair gel and pure Jeanist stubbornness.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked up and met Kaia’s. For a moment, the expression on his face was pure, wide-eyed horror. She couldn’t help it — a soft snort escaped her, and then a full, stifled chuckle.

Zaire, standing beside her, noticed immediately. His lips quirked into a slow, knowing smile, one brow raising ever so slightly as he greeted Jeanist with the calm respect of old friends.

“Jeanist,” Zaire called down, voice steady and warm. “Keeping the district stylish, as usual.”

Jeanist looked up, his stoic face softening slightly at the sight of Zaire and Kaia. “Bedrock. A pleasure as always. I see you’ve brought your daughter along for patrol. She’s making quite the name for herself.”

Kaia, still trying to hold back laughter, offered a respectful nod. “Just learning the ropes.”

Behind Jeanist, Katsuki shifted uncomfortably, the denim stretching stiffly as he adjusted his arms, scowling so hard it could’ve cracked concrete. The only thing more ruffled than his pride was that flattened hair, which Kaia could barely look at without giggling again.

Zaire’s smile only deepened as his eyes flicked to the boy. “Looking sharp, kid,” he teased lightly. “Real hero material.”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened, his voice low and tense. “Shut it, old man.”

Kaia let out another quiet laugh under her breath, and even Jeanist, in his perfectly professional manner, seemed mildly amused.

“We’ll let you two get back to it,” Zaire said, giving Jeanist a polite nod and offering Katsuki a small, meaningful look — one that held more than just teasing. “Good luck, kid.”

As Kaia and her dad moved on, she nudged him playfully. “You were so close to breaking into a full laugh,” she whispered.

Zaire smirked, shaking his head. “He makes it too easy.”

And for the rest of their patrol, Kaia couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

*****

When Kaia and Zaire returned to the Bedrock Vanguard Agency, the afternoon sun had settled high in the sky, the streets humming softly below the windows. Zaire's voice, calm but firm, broke the quiet as they stepped into the lobby.

“Go change into your training gear,” he instructed, tossing his gloves onto the front desk. “Meet me in Sparring Room Five.”

Kaia blinked, a little surprised by the sudden request, but nodded without question. After all, her father wasn’t the type to waste time without reason.

Minutes later, dressed in lightweight training clothes — black compression top, earth-tone cargo joggers, and her boots — Kaia made her way to the ground floor. Sparring Room Five was different from the others. No mats, no artificial surfaces. The room had been built directly over open ground — raw earth, rough stone, and patches of dry soil making up the “floor.”

As she stepped inside, the air was oddly still. Empty.

Her boots crunched faintly against the ground as she walked to the center, brows pulling together in confusion. There was no sign of her father or the sidekicks. The room was silent except for the faintest hum from the lights overhead. She turned slightly, just about to call out—

CLANK!

Before she could react, metal bars dropped from the ceiling, slamming into place around her. A thick, reinforced cage locked her into the center of the room, the ground shuddering beneath her feet as the structure settled.

Kaia’s heart jumped, her seismic sense firing off in alarm. She spun around, gripping the bars and giving them an experimental push, but they held firm. Solid.

A slow, steady clap echoed from the far end of the room as Zaire stepped into view, Hoshino and Yu flanking him on either side.

Her father’s sharp but relaxed voice cut through the tension. “If you want lunch, you’d better figure out how to get out of there.”

Kaia blinked in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Hoshino’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk, arms folded casually across her chest. Yu, leaning against the wall with hands stuffed in his pockets, only gave her a short wave.

Zaire, stepping forward just slightly, tilted his head. “I’ve been brushing up on my research lately,” he added, his voice dipping into that cryptic tone she knew all too well. “There’s more to earthbending than brute force, Kaia. You’ve been listening too much with your head, not enough with your body.”

The room went quiet, her father’s gaze steady on her.

“The only hint I’m giving you,” he said, “is this: feel within, Kaia.”

And with that, the three of them turned and walked out, the heavy door closing behind them with a metallic thud.

Kaia let out a long, steady exhale, stepping away from the bars and lowering herself to the ground, her bare feet sinking into the cool earth. She closed her eyes, her father’s words circling in her mind.

Feel within.

It wasn’t about strength, or strategy. It was about connection — pure, unfiltered instinct. She pressed her palms to the dirt, grounding herself, and listened. Not just with her seismic sense, but deeper. Past the surface. To the roots, the pulse of the earth.

A challenge for lunch, huh?

She cracked her knuckles, a small smile flickering across her face.

Alright, Dad. Game on.

*****

From the quiet of his office, Zaire stood with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the wall-mounted monitor. The grainy surveillance feed from Sparring Room Five flickered slightly as the camera zeroed in on Kaia, still seated on the ground, hands pressed to the earth beneath her. Hoshino leaned against the window ledge, arms crossed, while Yu sat perched backwards on a chair, his chin resting on the top rail.

Zaire had spent the past few days buried in research — diving deep into the fundamentals of the earth itself. Rock, soil, minerals, clay, even metals. The ground was never just one thing, and he wanted to see if Kaia could finally make the leap. If she could tap into the broader world beneath her feet.

Could she control more than just rock and dirt? Could she adapt her quirk the way it was always meant to evolve?

The question hung in his mind like a weight.

Pressing the intercom button on his desk, his voice echoed through the speakers embedded in Sparring Room Five.

“Your time starts now, Kaia.”

Onscreen, Kaia lifted her head slightly at his words, her expression steady, focused. She shifted, lowering herself back into the Hung Gar stance her father had drilled into her since she was a child — rooted, centered, calm.

“Let’s see how long it takes her,” Hoshino mused, glancing at the clock.

Yu snorted softly. “If she clears it under fifteen minutes, you owe me lunch.”

Zaire didn’t respond, his focus sharp as a blade as he watched his daughter close her eyes once more, sinking even deeper into the earth’s pulse. She wasn’t just feeling for dirt or stone this time. No — her mind was casting further, reaching for the different textures locked inside the earth’s body, the metals woven in the cage, the minerals hidden in the walls, the vibrations left behind by her own heartbeat.

This wasn’t strength.

This was understanding.

And Zaire’s quiet smile, subtle and proud, hinted that he already knew the answer.

Back in room 5, Kaia stood still for a moment, grounding her stance. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, expanding her senses outward to the earth beneath her feet. Every pulse of energy, every vibration that rippled through the ground, connected her to the world below. Her body remained still, but her mind was stretching, reaching, trying to feel what was beyond the cage that trapped her.

She took a step, then another, her bare feet sinking slightly into the packed dirt of the floor, the coolness of the ground reminding her of the connection she had with the earth. With each step, her seismic sense expanded further, feeling the subtle shifts in the earth beneath her, sensing the structure of the metal that formed the cage around her.

Kaia felt the cage pressing in on her, the cold metal digging into the air around her. She closed her eyes tighter, feeling the vibrations from every corner, her senses expanding beyond the walls of the cage. She could feel everything—every piece of earth, every tight space, every small fragment of dirt and rock, all connected. It was as if the entire room had a pulse, and she was in sync with it.

Her heartbeat slowed as she focused on the subtle energy around her. The metal bars, the lock—it all had been formed from the earth in some way. The materials were just fragments of the very soil beneath her feet, refined and shaped into something foreign. A smile tugged at her lips as the realization hit. She wasn’t limited to the soil and rock alone. Everything here—metal, wood, stone—was just an extension of the earth, and she could feel them all.

Kaia slipped off her shoes, letting her bare feet touch the ground more directly. She stretched out her senses even further, tuning her ears to the subtle creaks of the cage, the soft vibrations that moved through the room, through the steel. She could feel the connection now, the small fractures in the material, the shifts in the air. Every inch of the cage, every scrap of metal, was made of the earth.

It was all part of the same thing. And with that thought, she knew exactly what to do.

Kaia’s fingers flexed at her sides, the familiar weight of realization settling in as her mind replayed the memory of that lesson — taught by Ectoplasm. His voice echoed in her head, clear as day:

"Metals are just earth, refined. Mined, broken down, purified, and shaped. Earth is the origin."

Her smirk deepened, the pieces finally locking into place. All this time she had limited herself, thinking the earth beneath her feet was her only ally — but this cage, this cold, unyielding metal trapping her, was just as much a part of the earth as the ground she stood on.

Breathing slow and steady, Kaia lowered herself back into her Hung Gar stance, bare feet anchoring into the packed soil of the room, every muscle loosening as her senses stretched outward. This time, she didn’t just feel the ground. She reached for the vibrations humming through the metal bars around her, the fragments of earth trapped within their makeup, the echo of the earth’s signature still lingering inside the steel.

A faint thrum pulsed back at her, like the heartbeat of an old friend she’d only just remembered.

Her hands lifted slowly, palms open, guiding the energy with purpose rather than force. The cage shuddered slightly — the vibrations beginning at the base and crawling upward as Kaia coaxed the particles within, commanding them with the same quiet authority she’d always used with stone. She didn’t rush it. She waited for the right moment, the perfect shift in the material, and then—

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

The cage trembled once more, and with a final, grounded breath, Kaia raised her arms, the metal bending at her will, warping outward until the bars unfurled like blooming petals. The lock snapped off and clattered to the floor.

Freedom.

From the surveillance room, Zaire’s lips twitched into the faintest, proudest smile.

“She figured it out,” Hoshino muttered, arms uncrossing. “Smart girl.”

Yu let out a low whistle. “Under ten minutes. Guess you’re buying lunch, Hosh.”

Kaia stepped out from the opened cage, brushing dust from her pants, her heart pounding with excitement and pride. She looked toward the nearest security camera, knowing her father was watching, and gave a small, confident nod.

Zaire leaned toward the intercom, pressing the button once again.
“Good. Now you’re thinking like a real tectonic.”

Kaia returned to the office with a proud smile on her face, her steps light and confident. As the door to her father’s office swung open, she met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Her heart still raced from the rush of figuring it out—of connecting with the earth on a deeper level than she ever had before.

Zaire, Hoshino, and Yu were all seated at the table, watching her closely as she walked in. Her father’s expression was one of curiosity, but there was a hint of approval in his eyes.

“Well?” Zaire asked, his tone neutral, though Kaia could feel the weight of his expectations.

Kaia’s smile widened, and she stood tall, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I did it.”

Hoshino raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s your method?”

Kaia shrugged, her grin still firmly in place. “I connected to the earth around me, felt the materials… everything’s connected. Metal, rock, wood—it’s all part of the earth. I used the vibrations and shifts in the cage to feel the materials and control them.”

Yu leaned back in his chair, impressed. “Not bad. So, you expanded your control.”

“Exactly,” Kaia replied, her pride evident. “I didn't just focus on the earth beneath my feet. I felt everything—the cage, the fragments. It’s all a part of the same foundation.”

Zaire watched her quietly for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Good. You’re starting to see the bigger picture. But remember, there’s always more to learn. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Kaia’s smile didn’t falter. She had a feeling her father wasn’t one for easy praise, so this subtle approval meant more than any words could say.

“Well, I’m hungry,” she said playfully, as her stomach let out a small growl.

Zaire chuckled, standing up. “Let’s eat then. You’ve earned it today.”

As they made their way to lunch, Kaia couldn’t resist asking the question that had been swirling in her mind all morning.

“So, how did you figure it out?” she asked, glancing up at her father as they walked. She was still buzzing with the excitement of having solved the puzzle, but she couldn’t help but wonder how Zaire had come to the conclusion that connecting with other materials was the key.

Zaire gave her a knowing look, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets as he strode beside her. “I’ve been doing my own research,” he began, his tone serious but not without pride. “I’ve been studying earth-based materials and how they relate to one another—how different substances are connected at a molecular level. It made sense to me that, if your quirk is evolving the way it is, it’s not just about the earth beneath your feet. It’s about everything that makes up the earth. Metals, minerals, rock, even wood.”

Kaia nodded thoughtfully, her curiosity piqued as her father continued.

“You’ve always been able to connect with the earth itself,” he explained, “but I knew you could take it further. If I can manipulate my body to mimic parts of the earth, then you should be able to do the same.”

Kaia’s eyes widened. “Wait… what do you mean?”

Without a word, Zaire raised his left forearm, and she watched as the skin shifted and rippled. Rock-like scales began to form, covering his arm with a smooth, metallic sheen. It was as if the very earth had fused with his flesh, creating an armour of stone. He flexed his hand, the scales shimmering under the sunlight.

Kaia’s breath caught. “You can do that?” she asked in awe, her eyes wide.

Zaire nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not perfect yet, but I’ve been practicing. My quirk lets me produce rock-like scales anywhere on my body—hands, forearms, even my back. It’s part of me. And if I can replicate it because it’s part of the earth… then so can you with the materials you’re connected to.”

She watched him for a moment, absorbing his words, her mind racing. So, if she could connect to the materials like he did with his body, then it would open up a whole new world of possibilities for her. She could control metals, rocks, even manipulate them in ways she hadn’t imagined.

“I see…” Kaia said, her voice soft but thoughtful. “So, by thinking of it all as part of the earth, I should be able to control those materials, too.”

“Exactly,” Zaire said with a small grin. “You’ve already taken the first step. Now you just need to keep practicing.”

Kaia’s eyes sparkled with determination. This was exactly what she needed to hear. She had always known there was something more to her quirk—something she hadn’t quite tapped into yet. But now she had the clarity she needed to push forward.

As they entered the restaurant and took their seats, Kaia couldn’t help but feel a new sense of purpose growing inside her. She had a lot of work ahead of her, but with her father’s support and guIidance, she was more determined than ever to master her abilities and take her place as a hero in her own right.

Her father gave her a small, knowing smile as they settled in for lunch. “Don’t rush it, Kaia. These things take time. But you’re on the right track.”

Kaia smiled back at him, feeling a deep sense of connection between them. She was ready. Ready to push her limits and take the next step in her journey—whatever it took.

*****

That evening, after Kaia had finished her homework and settled in for the night, Zaire and Amara found themselves in their bedroom, the soft hum of the city outside calming after a long day. Amara was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed as she flipped through a stack of paperwork, while Zaire leaned against the dresser, his eyes focused on her as he casually began the conversation.

"So, Kaia had quite a day today," he started, his voice low and thoughtful. "Running into Katsuki was… an experience, to say the least."

Amara gave him a knowing smile, not looking up from her papers but clearly amused. "I saw the look on her face when she came home. I think she found it more entertaining than embarrassing."

Zaire chuckled softly, nodding. "I can’t deny that. Katsuki in those jeans? That was something. Best Jeanist sure knows how to keep him in line. I swear, I thought we were going to lose Kaia to a fit of laughter right there on the street."

Amara finally glanced up from her papers, her eyes softening with affection. "Kaia really is growing up, huh? I never thought I’d see the day she’d be teasing Katsuki like that. I’m glad she’s building these kinds of relationships, though."

Zaire smiled, walking over to sit beside her on the bed. "Yeah, it's good to see her laughing again. She’s always been a serious one, especially when it comes to her training. But today... she showed me something."

He paused, as if weighing his words carefully.

"You could see it in her movements, Amara. I’ve been doing some research on her powers—earth control, manipulation, all of it. Today, though, she tapped into something new. Something I didn’t expect."

Amara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean? I thought we had a pretty good idea of what she could do."

Zaire nodded, his fingers brushing the back of his neck as he thought back to the training session. "It’s her connection to the earth, yes, but she’s starting to expand it. Today, when she was in that cage—when she couldn’t use her earth manipulation the usual way—she didn’t just fight it head-on. I tested her to feel it out. She started to connect to materials, not just dirt and rock. She recognized that metals and minerals come from the earth, too. When she felt the metal in that cage, it was like she knew what to do."

Amara’s expression shifted, sensing the gravity in his tone. "So, you’re saying... she’s learning to manipulate metal now?"

Zaire looked at her, his eyes narrowing with thought. "Not just metal, Amara. It's bigger than that. I’m not entirely sure yet, but this could be her breaking into something even more powerful. Maybe she’s starting to understand that the earth... everything in the earth, is connected. If she can control metal, she can probably control other materials, too."

Amara’s gaze softened, and she gently placed her hand on Zaire’s. "You think she’ll be able to handle all of that? This kind of growth, this power?"

Zaire took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I do. She’s strong, and she’s not one to back down from a challenge. But it’s going to take time. We’ve got to make sure we’re guiding her properly, showing her how to use this power responsibly."

Amara nodded, her fingers gently tracing his. "She’s in good hands. I trust you, Zaire."

Zaire met her gaze, giving a small smile. "I hope so. And I think she’s ready for what’s coming. I just want her to be prepared. She’s growing fast, Amara... too fast sometimes."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the soft sounds of the city a steady backdrop as they both reflected on the challenges their daughter was facing—and the path she would eventually walk.

Zaire eventually broke the silence, his voice soft but firm. "I’ll make sure she’s ready. We both will."

Amara smiled warmly, resting her head on his shoulder. "And we’ll be right there with her, every step of the way."

Chapter Text

The next morning, sunlight crept through the windows of the Mikage household, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. The smell of fresh miso soup and grilled fish hung in the air as Amara moved around the stove, placing the last of the breakfast plates on the table. Zaire sat at his usual spot, coffee mug in hand, unusually quiet as he scrolled through the latest updates on his phone.

Kaia slid into her chair, still stretching out the last bit of sleep from her limbs. At first, it felt like a normal morning, but the weight in the room hit her pretty quickly — her parents weren't usually this quiet, especially not at the breakfast table.

She glanced at the TV mounted on the kitchen wall, the morning news flashing across the screen. The headline dominated the bottom of the broadcast:

“HERO KILLER STAIN — CAPTURED. Hosu City in Ruins After Nomu Attack.”

Kaia’s chopsticks paused mid-reach, her stomach twisting as the footage replayed, showing the smoke, rubble, and frantic civilians being escorted away. She blinked, realizing this was the first she was hearing about it — her phone must’ve blown up while she was asleep.

“…That happened last night?” she asked quietly, eyes still locked on the screen.

Zaire set his coffee down, his voice calm but carrying a serious weight. "Yeah. Hosu took a hard hit." His tone was careful, protective, but there was a trace of fatigue underneath it.

Amara sat down across from them, her hands folding around her tea. "Stain was captured. But not before causing a lot of damage."

Kaia’s fingers gripped her chopsticks a little tighter. The Hero Killer wasn’t just some random name — they’d discussed him plenty in class, especially his twisted ideology about heroes. Seeing the wreckage on the screen hit differently when you knew people had been out there, friends even.

A sharp buzz from her phone broke the silence. Kaia flipped it over and unlocked it, only to be met with an overflowing stream of missed messages. The class group chat had blown up overnight. Her heart skipped when she spotted Izuku’s name — the last message timestamped way past midnight.

Izuku: SOS — I’m in Hosu. Help.

Her chest tightened. She stared at the message, feeling a wave of guilt for not seeing it sooner, but another thought pushed forward just as fast — if Izuku had sent this, and the news was reporting his capture, he must've been right in the middle of it.

Before Kaia could even voice the question, her father spoke again, as if sensing her thoughts.

"I was called out there last night too," Zaire admitted softly, his gaze finally lifting to meet hers. "After you fell asleep. The Nomu situation was worse than expected."

Kaia blinked at him, her throat dry. "You... were in Hosu?"

Zaire nodded, his voice steady but laced with that protective fatherly edge. "It was my job, Kaia. We got the situation under control, but it was messy. The kids involved... they held their own. Izuku was one of them."

Kaia’s mind reeled at the information, her appetite completely gone now. She looked back at the TV, watching the familiar flash of Izuku’s green hair as the news replayed a brief clip of the aftermath, medics swarming the scene.

Amara reached across the table, placing her hand gently over Kaia’s. “He’s alright. You’ll probably see him around soon.”

Kaia nodded slowly, swallowing hard. The weight of the hero world always felt heavy, but today it sat squarely on her chest.

Her father’s voice, firm but warm, cut through her spiraling thoughts. “One day, you’ll face situations like this too. But you’ll be ready.”

Kaia sat back, quiet for a moment, then offered a small nod. “I will be.”

The room settled into a thoughtful silence as the family finished breakfast.

Before heading out for the day, Kaia slipped back up to her room, her phone already in hand. The second the door clicked shut behind her, she scrolled straight to Izuku’s contact and hit call — barely giving herself a second to breathe.

The dial tone barely rang twice before he answered, his voice soft and a little scratchy on the other end.

“Kaia… hey.”

“Hey,” she replied quietly, leaning against her desk. “I saw the news.”

There was a short pause, one heavy enough to confirm everything she’d already pieced together. The article plastered Endeavor’s name across the headlines, crediting him for bringing down the Hero Killer — but Kaia wasn’t fooled. The footage showed enough for her trained eyes to catch the truth.

“You were there,” she said, her voice gentle but steady. “You, Todoroki, and Ida. You got him, didn’t you?”

Izuku’s silence said more than words could.

Kaia sighed, the tension in her chest loosening a bit just from hearing his voice. “You could’ve been killed.”

“…We didn’t have a choice,” Izuku finally murmured. “It was self-defence. But you’re right. We could’ve been in huge trouble.”

Kaia nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I figured. I saw the article this morning. I saw your message too — I’m sorry I didn’t answer last night.”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said, his voice soft but reassuring. “You would’ve if you saw it. I know.”

Kaia closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet on the other end of the line. She could tell he was still processing it all — the fight, the aftermath, the weight of what it meant to stand against someone like Stain.

“You guys were lucky,” she whispered, her voice almost cracking. “But you were brave too.”

Izuku let out a small, tired laugh. “Thanks, Kaia.”

A soft knock at her door made her glance over her shoulder — her father’s voice calling up from the hallway. “Kaia, time to go.”

She brought the phone back to her ear, her tone warm but firm. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Get some rest, Izuku.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “I will.”

And as she ended the call and slipped her phone into her pocket, Kaia couldn’t shake the weight that clung to her chest — but at least now she knew her friends were safe.

*****

Kaia was back at her dad’s agency for her final day of internships, the morning sun casting soft light through the windows as she made her way to Sparring Room 5. The last few days had been intense—training, patrols, tapping into new levels of her quirk—but she felt the shift in herself. She was growing.

Barefoot again, her soles connected to the ground as she stepped into the room. The familiar rough earth beneath her grounded her instantly. She rolled her shoulders, exhaled, and reached out with her senses.

The metal embedded in the room’s structure—bolts, support rods, even lingering traces in the soil itself—called to her now. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t foreign anymore either. She could feel it like another pulse beneath her feet.

With sharp, deliberate movements, Kaia focused her energy. Her hands swept in arcs, her stance low and rooted. A thin metal rod embedded beneath the surface vibrated slightly, shifting under her command. She narrowed her eyes, fingers closing into a fist, and with a sharp breath, pulled it upward in a slow, controlled motion.

The rod broke the surface of the earth and hovered for a brief moment before clattering gently back down.

Kaia smiled.

Her dad’s boots echoed softly against the hardened earth floor as he stepped fully into the room, the shift in his posture enough to tell Kaia something was up. His easy-going expression gave way to that signature glint of mischief — the same one he wore whenever he was about to teach her a lesson the hard way.

Trailing behind him, Hoshino and Yu entered with matching looks of quiet pride. Hoshino stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, while Yu’s hands were casually stuffed in his pockets, but the small lift of his brow told her everything: they’d been watching. They’d seen the growth.

Kaia straightened her stance, brushing the back of her hand across her forehead to clear the light sheen of sweat that clung there. She was getting the hang of the metal, slowly but surely, and the acknowledgment in their eyes was more fuel than she expected.

But her attention snapped back to her father when he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a plain belt, worn in from use. He clipped three brightly coloured flags to it, evenly spaced and fluttering slightly with each movement. Securing the belt tightly around his waist, he gave the knot a sharp tug and stood tall.

Then came the rules — classic Zaire.

“No quirks,” he said, his voice firm but edged with pride. “Strictly hand-to-hand. You want lunch, you want bragging rights? You earn it.”

Kaia's brow lifted, a smirk creeping onto her face as she rocked back on her heels, stretching her arms across her chest. She could feel the spark of adrenaline starting to hum through her limbs, the challenge already settling into her bones. But did lunch always need to be on the line?

Zaire stepped backward, adjusting the belt so the flags sat neatly at his hips. “Your goal’s simple,” he added, rolling his shoulders. “Snatch these flags off me before I take you down. Let’s see if all that training’s paid off.”

Hoshino let out a soft chuckle from the doorway, arms still crossed. “Better be light on your feet, Kaia. Your old man won’t go easy.”

Yu chimed in with his usual dry humour, “And we’ve got bets on how long you’ll last.”

Kaia shook out her arms and took her stance, feet planted firm but ready to move, her eyes sharp and focused on the flags.

The playful weight of the challenge hung heavy in the air, but underneath it sat something more meaningful — a test, not just of skill, but of growth.

Zaire raised a brow, his hands resting loosely by his sides as he lowered his stance. “Whenever you’re ready, kid.”

The moment Kaia dropped into her stance, the world seemed to narrow. Her sharp brown eyes locked onto the three flags clipped to her father’s belt. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the agency’s air circulation and the subtle scrape of her father’s boots shifting across the earth-packed floor.

Zaire’s lips curled into a half-smirk, feet light and balanced, arms relaxed but ready — waiting for her to make the first move.

Kaia’s muscles coiled, then she lunged, aiming low and fast for the flag on his left hip, hoping to catch him before he’d fully settle into rhythm. But her father anticipated it. With a small, sharp sidestep, he pivoted smoothly, swatting her away with a fluid parry and using his foot to gently trip her momentum off-balance.

She stumbled but caught herself, spinning on her heel and snapping back into position, a grin tugging at her mouth.

“Nice try,” Zaire chuckled. “But I taught you that move.”

Kaia didn’t answer, her breathing even, her mind sharp. She remembered his lessons: Don’t rush. Wait. Listen. Her foot shifted subtly, toes pressing into the earth, grounding herself again as she circled him slowly, not attacking — just feeling. Watching.

Zaire mirrored her movement, relaxed but sharp-eyed. His form was precise, built from years of experience, but Kaia had youth and agility on her side. She feinted left, then immediately dropped into a sweeping kick aimed for his legs. He jumped the sweep — but that was her real plan.

Using the moment his feet left the ground, she twisted her torso, her arm snapping up and reaching for the flag at his back. Zaire landed quickly, barely a fraction of a second to spare, twisting his body just enough to avoid her fingers grazing the cloth.

“Getting clever,” he remarked, his tone half-proud, half-warning.

Kaia reset her stance, heart hammering but her head clear. This wasn’t about brute strength — it never was. He wanted her to use her mind as much as her body.

They exchanged another flurry — strikes, dodges, feints — Zaire testing her reaction time with short, sharp jabs, Kaia keeping her movements controlled and her eyes locked on the prize. She was patient, her father noted, and her footwork had become sharper, grounded in the Hung Gar style she’d practiced so religiously.

When she moved again, it was smooth — a faint shift in weight to her back leg, and her father adjusted, expecting another lunge.

But instead, Kaia pivoted in place, kicking up a small cloud of dust and darting low — not for a flag, but for the belt itself. Zaire’s stance had opened just enough for her fingers to hook beneath the strap. With a sharp tug, the flags jolted, and one slipped free, fluttering to the ground.

Zaire blinked, surprised, then let out a deep, proud laugh.

“Well played.”

But the match wasn’t over. She still had two more flags to snatch.

The two circled each other again, this time Zaire moved faster, putting more power behind his attacks. His strikes came quick — sharp elbows, sweeping kicks, and low hooks designed to keep her guessing. Kaia dodged and countered, feeling the edge of her stamina creep up, but refusing to back down.

When he sent a jab toward her shoulder, Kaia pivoted into the blow, rolling her body along his arm to reduce the impact — a redirection trick she’d picked up from Hoshino. Using her momentum, she twisted around his back, snatching the second flag off his right hip with a triumphant flick of her wrist.

Two down. One left.

Zaire, even through his deep breath, grinned wide. His daughter was more than holding her own. He raised his hands again, lowering his center of gravity, signaling the final round. Kaia wiped the sweat from her brow and mirrored the stance.

This time, she waited. Let him come to her.

Zaire lunged — and Kaia sidestepped, spinning behind him with smooth precision. Her hand shot toward the last flag, fingers brushing the fabric — but he twisted just in time, catching her wrist mid-air.

They stood locked, neither moving. Then Kaia’s free hand shot toward his belt, snatching the last flag clean off.

Silence.

Hoshino and Yu, who had been watching from the corner, burst into applause.

Zaire released her wrist and let out a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s my girl,” he said warmly, ruffling her hair despite the sweat and dust. “You earned that one.”

Kaia beamed, chest heaving from the effort but eyes bright with pride.

No quirks, no shortcuts. Just skill, patience, and heart. And for once, even her old man couldn’t hide how proud he was.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the walls of the agency in soft orange light. The usual buzz of activity had quieted, most of the sidekicks packing up and heading out for the evening. In his office, Zaire sat comfortably at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, watching Kaia who sat perched on the couch, still in her training clothes, legs tucked beneath her.

A calm silence lingered between them, the kind that only came after a long, rewarding week.

“So,” Zaire finally spoke, breaking the quiet, “what’d you take away from this week?”

Kaia tilted her head slightly, tapping her chin with mock thoughtfulness. “That I can’t trust you when you say we’re going to ‘lunch’ without a catch,” she teased, flashing him a small smile.

Zaire let out a soft laugh, nodding in approval. “That’s fair.”

She shifted a little, her tone growing more thoughtful. “I learned to listen to my senses more. I learned metal’s just another part of earth… and that I’ve been limiting myself without realizing it.” Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve as she continued. “I also learned you’ve been evolving too. I didn’t even know your quirk could do that.”

Zaire raised his arm slightly, flexing the forearm still faintly marked from the earlier training — the smooth, hardened shell of earth and metal-like texture had faded now, but the memory of showing her lingered. “Quirks grow just like we do. Yours, mine, even your classmates. You just have to be willing to push yourself… and stay sharp.”

Kaia’s gaze softened as she looked at him. “Thanks for the push this week, Dad.” She paused, a sheepish smile creeping across her face. “Even when you trapped me in a metal cage.”

Zaire chuckled, leaning forward, resting his arms on the desk. “You’re getting stronger, Kaia. I see it. Your power, your thinking, your control — all of it’s leveling up. And you didn’t quit, not once.”

For a moment, Kaia just sat there, soaking in the quiet pride in his voice. It wasn’t often her father laid his feelings out plainly, but in these small moments, it meant everything.

“I’m proud of you,” Zaire said simply, the words firm but warm. “You’ve got something special. You’ve always had it.”

Kaia gave a small nod, the weight of the week catching up to her but leaving her with a full heart. She stretched her arms over her head with a yawn. “I’m gonna miss coming here every day.”

Zaire stood, walking over to ruffle her hair gently, the rare gesture making her grin.

“You’ll be back,” he said with quiet certainty. “The agency’s always got a place for you. But for now… finish school first, alright?”

She laughed softly. “Deal.”

As they gathered their things and prepared to head home, the office lights clicked off one by one behind them, the day drawing to a close — and with it, a week Kaia knew she’d never forget.

****

The usual morning hum of U.A. was louder than normal as Kaia made her way through the hallways, the energy practically buzzing off the walls. After a week away, the building felt both familiar and fresh — but nothing compared to the excitement just beyond the doors of Class 1A.

She barely reached the doorway when the unmistakable sound of shouting echoed through the hall.

“SHUT UP, YOU DAMN EXTRAS!”

Kaia stopped short, stifling a laugh behind her hand. She didn’t even need to guess who that was. Stepping into the room, the sight that greeted her didn’t disappoint.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido were practically doubled over, clutching their stomachs in laughter. Right in the center of it all stood Katsuki — arms crossed, a deep scowl plastered across his face — and his hair, usually wild and spiky, was still slicked down into that perfectly neat comb-over, courtesy of Best Jeanist.

“No way, man!” Kaminari wheezed between fits of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. “A whole week and it’s still stuck like that? What’d he use, concrete?!”

Katsuki gritted his teeth, his glare sharp enough to slice steel. “I’VE TRIED EVERYTHING!”

Sero leaned against a desk, struggling to catch his breath. “Man, I’ve never seen you look so... put together. Jeanist’s got you locked down, bro.”

Ashido nudged Kirishima, who could barely contain himself. “It actually kinda suits him, right?” she teased, winking Kaia’s way when she noticed her standing at the door.

Kaia finally stepped in, raising a brow at the sight. “Wow... and here I thought I imagined it,” she teased lightly, flashing Katsuki a sly smile.

Before another word could be said, Kaminari — never one to let things go — leaned in with a wide grin. “Hey, Bakugo, maybe you should ask Jeanist to style your hair for your hero debut! Think of the sponsorship deals!”

That was the final straw.

A frustrated growl rumbled from Katsuki, and right there, as if his sheer fury could override hair gel, his hair seemed to poof back into its usual wild shape — the gel losing the battle in real time.

The classroom burst into a fresh wave of laughter, even Aizawa walking in at that moment raising an eyebrow at the chaotic scene before dropping into his sleeping bag without comment.

Kaia slid into her seat, still grinning as she settled in, and Katsuki dropped into his own, grumbling under his breath — though if she was being honest, she could’ve sworn she caught the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After the usual thunderous energy of an English class led by Present Mic — which left more than a few students rubbing their ears — and a hands-on first aid with Hound Dog, the bell rang out granting Class 1A a rare, unsupervised free period before Cementoss came in for their History block.

The moment the door shut behind Hound Dog, the classroom split almost instinctively. The girls gathered near the back by the windows, pulling desks together into a tight circle. Kaia slid into the seat next to Ashido, who was already halfway into her story about her internship at Uwabami’s agency, complete with wild hand gestures mimicking the cameras and the red-carpet chaos.

Jirou chimed in, her usual cool tone masking her genuine excitement. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy media training, but it wasn’t half bad. Still, hero work’s got way more depth than I thought.”

Uraraka and Yaoyorozu nodded along while Asui sipped her juice quietly, listening in. Kaia found herself grinning as she shared her own stories too — leaving out the deeper, more personal breakthroughs but mentioning her training, patrols, and her dad’s relentless drills. The girls all leaned in, swapping advice, teasing one another, and comparing agencies.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the guys had formed a loose cluster around Kirishima’s desk. The mood there was a little heavier, though still laced with their usual excitement. They were deep in conversation about the recent headline dominating the news: the capture of Hero Killer Stain.

“Man... I still can’t believe it,” Kirishima muttered, leaning back in his chair. “The Hero Killer finally caught. Wild, huh?”

“It’s crazy to think about,” Sero added, spinning a pencil between his fingers. “I mean, pro heroes were involved, but the news barely mentions what really happened.”

Kaminari rested his chin on his hands. “You think the rumours are true? That it wasn’t just Endeavor?”

Ida, usually the calm one when it came to classroom chatter, sat stiffly at his desk. His eyes flicked toward the window, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Everyone had noticed his change in mood since the news broke.

Izuku stayed quiet too, fingers tapping nervously against his notebook. Kaia, even from across the room, could read the tension in his posture — her call with him that morning still fresh in her mind. She knew the truth, or at least most of it, and judging by the glance Izuku sent her way, he knew she hadn’t forgotten.

Todoroki, who stood leaning against the wall nearby, glanced toward Ida, his usually stoic expression softened, but he didn’t say much either.

The chatter filling the room slowly died down as the heavy, deliberate thud of stone footsteps echoed from the hallway. Everyone recognized the sound immediately. The free period had officially come to an end.

Cementoss stepped through the door, his large stone frame barely fitting under the classroom’s doorframe, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the room with his usual calm but sharp focus. His presence commanded instant attention, and the class shuffled back to their desks — a few last-minute whispers still lingering as chairs scraped against the floor.

“Alright, Class 1A,” Cementoss’s deep, gravelly voice rumbled. “Let’s settle in.”

As the students straightened up, Kaia caught Kaminari whispering to Kirishima, who still had a grin plastered on his face from their earlier Stain talk. Bakugo, back to his usual spiky-haired self, slouched in his seat but didn’t dare make a sound as Cementoss’s gaze passed over him.

“Today we’re continuing where we left off before internship week,” Cementoss began, tapping the chalkboard with a stone finger. “Now that you’ve all had a glimpse of the hero world beyond these walls, it’s time you understand the laws and historical context that shape your future careers.”

With a flick of his wrist, neat and precise lettering formed across the chalkboard as if the stone itself wrote for him.

‘Hero Law & Responsibility: Origins and Ethics’
Topic: Vigilantism, Quirk Regulation, and The Hero Killer Incident.

Kaia straightened in her seat, the last line making her stomach tighten slightly. From the looks exchanged around the room — especially from Izuku, Todoroki, and Ida— she wasn’t the only one whose thoughts drifted to Hosu City.

Cementoss’s voice carried on, steady but thoughtful.

“You’ve all heard about the Hero Killer by now. His capture has been the focus of the media, but the real lesson here is how the law treats those involved. Licensed heroes act within regulations for the safety of both the public and themselves. Unlicensed action, even if it saves lives, carries consequences.”

A long pause settled over the room.

“Understanding your place within the system is just as important as your strength and skills. Some of you may have seen more than you bargained for this past week. That’s why history matters.”

He glanced around the room, locking eyes briefly with Kaia, as if his words were meant to reach anyone carrying the weight of unsaid things.

As Cementoss dove deeper into the day’s lesson, the students listened closely.

He paused mid-lecture, the words on the board still lingering like heavy reminders of the world outside U.A.’s walls. His stone-like expression softened just slightly as he set the chalk down on the tray.

“Now,” he said, folding his arms behind his back, “I want to hear from you. Any questions or thoughts about what we’ve covered so far? This isn’t just history — it’s the world you’re stepping into.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of the topic hanging in the air. Then, surprisingly, Ida’s hand shot up first, his usual sharpness tinted with something more personal.

“Cementoss-sensei,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “if an unlicensed individual intervenes in a life-threatening situation — even if they prevent harm — are they always subject to punishment, regardless of intent?”

Cementoss nodded slowly, acknowledging the layered question. “Intent matters morally, but not always legally. The law is designed to protect the public from recklessness — quirks are powerful tools, and even a well-meant action can cause unintended harm. Regulation keeps that risk in check.”

Bakugo, arms crossed, let out a quiet “Tch,” under his breath but spoke up too, voice rough but clear.
“So what — we’re just supposed to stand around if some villain shows up before graduation? Just let people die because we don’t have a license?”

A few heads turned toward him, and even Kaia glanced sideways, knowing this hit closer to home for more than a few of them.

Cementoss tilted his head slightly, unphased by Bakugo’s sharpness. “No one’s asking you to ignore your instincts. But even heroes have to learn restraint. It’s the system that keeps balance between chaos and order. That’s what separates a professional from a vigilante.”

Ochaco raised her hand next, her expression thoughtful. “But... if the system doesn’t work fast enough, aren’t people still in danger? What’s the point of being a hero if you can’t help when it matters?”

The debate slowly bloomed, the room growing more animated as the students began to speak openly, each with their own perspective shaped by their recent experiences. Todoroki, from his seat, quietly added:

“The system isn’t perfect. But breaking it without thought doesn’t fix it either.”

Kaia listened closely, her fingers loosely threading together on her desk. A debate like this wasn’t just about the right answer — it was about what kind of hero each of them wanted to be.

Cementoss nodded at the shift in the room — thoughtful, sharp, a class of students who were slowly outgrowing the title of ‘first years’ in more ways than one.

“This is why you’re here,” he finished. “Not just to become stronger, but to understand the world you’ll stand for.”

The discussion carried on for the rest of the period, no clear answers, just a shared understanding that their journey was only beginning.

The sharp ring of the lunch bell echoed through the room, snapping the class out of their deep debate. Cementoss picked up the papers from his desk, but before the students could start packing their things, he held up a hand to get their attention.

“One last thing,” he said, pulling out a neatly folded note and reading it aloud. “A message from Mr. Aizawa.”

The class fell quiet, all ears.

“For today’s Hero Training period, you’re to skip the usual drills. Change into your gym uniforms and head straight to Field Gamma. Both Aizawa and All Might will be waiting.”

The room buzzed instantly. Kaminari leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Field Gamma, huh? Sounds serious.”

Ashido elbowed Kaia playfully as they stood up, a grin spreading across her face.
“Ooh, maybe it’s a special test? Or something new for our internship follow-up!”

Bakugo, already standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, scoffed. “Tch. Don’t slow down. If they’re both watching, it won’t be easy.”

Kaia held back a small smile, her thoughts trailing back to the debates they’d just had — and her own recent training with her dad. Whatever was waiting for them at Field Gamma, she felt more ready than ever.

The class shuffled out together, some still whispering about Stain, others speculating about the training ahead. Kaia glanced at Todoroki and Idaat the front of the group, catching the serious, knowing expressions on both their faces. She wasn’t the only one carrying new lessons from the week.

*****

The usual hum of chatter and laughter drifted across the campus courtyard as Class 1-A spread out to enjoy their break. Kaia, however, had wandered a little further off, settling beneath the shade of a broad tree at one of the older wooden picnic tables. The breeze rustled the leaves above her, and the quiet gave her a rare, much-needed moment to breathe.

She unwrapped her lunch slowly, mind still half on the whirlwind of her internship week and the morning’s debates in history. It wasn’t until a familiar shift in the earth’s pulse stirred beneath her feet that her thoughts snapped back to the present.

She felt him before she heard him — Todoroki’s footsteps were steady, measured, and easy for her to recognize. She didn’t look up right away, only offering a small smile as she pulled another bite from her lunch.

“You always walk like that,” Kaia said softly, glancing up as he stepped into the shade beside the table.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, but there was the faintest curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Like what?”

“Like you're thinking about a million things at once, but still sharp enough to catch anything out of place.” She nudged her tray a little to the side, making room if he wanted to sit.

Without a word, he took the silent invitation, resting his lunch container on the table but not opening it right away. The two sat there for a moment, the breeze tugging lightly at their hair, the quiet easy between them.

“You’ve been busy,” Todoroki finally said, his voice calm but knowing. “I saw the article. You’re getting stronger.”

Kaia chuckled, lowering her gaze for a moment. “Yeah, well... so are you. I saw the news too.”

His expression shifted slightly, something between gratitude and the weight of unspoken thoughts.

Neither of them pushed the conversation deeper, both comfortable in the quiet companionship that only came from mutual understanding. For once, it wasn’t about school, or training, or expectations. Just two people, sitting under the shade, letting the world slow down for a while.

Todoroki rested his arms on the table, his gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon — like he was gathering his words carefully before speaking.

“…Kaia,” he started, his voice quieter than before, “I’ve been meaning to say this.”

She glanced at him, curious, setting down her drink.

“I never apologized. For the sports festival.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him finish.

“I lost control,” he admitted, fingers tightening slightly around his lunch container. “I thought I had it handled, but I didn’t. I’ve barely trained with my fire until now, and back then I used it like it didn’t matter what happened to anyone else. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of that.”

Kaia tilted her head, watching him — there wasn’t anger or judgment in her expression, only understanding.

“You know,” she said softly, “I’ve thought about that match a few times.” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “And I figured you were still figuring things out too.”

Her voice dropped to something more thoughtful. “We’re all trying to control what we’ve been given. You’ve got more weight on your shoulders than most. I get it.”

Todoroki’s shoulders eased at her words, the tension he didn’t even realize he’d been holding finally loosening.

“I’m still not used to it,” he admitted, glancing down at his hands. “The flames, I mean. Even now, every time I use them, it feels like I’m borrowing something that doesn’t belong to me.”

Kaia leaned back against the bench, her gaze flicking toward the sky. “Maybe it’ll feel like yours when you stop thinking about where it came from. Fire or ice — both are part of you. The rest is just learning how to trust yourself with them.”

The corner of his mouth lifted at that, a soft, genuine smile. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” Kaia grinned. “But I’ve got practice with things not making sense at first.”

The two shared a quiet laugh before the bell rang faintly in the distance, signaling the end of lunch approaching. Neither of them rushed to move, lingering a moment longer under the tree before the world called them back to class.

Chapter Text

The bell echoed across the courtyard, shaking Class 1A from their relaxed lunch chatter. One by one they gathered their things, forming a loose pack as they headed toward the locker rooms, still buzzing with energy.

“Field Gamma, huh?” Kirishima stretched his arms over his head as they walked. “That place’s like, built for real-world scenarios. Bet we’re gonna be doing some kind of hero rescue or something intense.”

“Or probably a villain takedown simulation,” Kaminari added, excitement sparking in his voice. “I mean, All Might and Aizawa-sensei both being there? That can’t be just normal drills.”

“Maybe both,” Jirou chimed in, adjusting her earphone jacks as she walked beside Ashido, who was practically bouncing on her heels. “They’ve been on edge since the whole Stain thing broke. I wouldn’t be surprised if they upped the difficulty.”

Kaia walked quietly near the back, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, listening to her classmates speculate. She couldn’t help but wonder the same. After the week they all just had — real agencies, real patrols, real villains — what could Aizawa possibly throw at them that would top that?

“You think it’ll be team battles again?” Sero asked, looping his arms behind his head. “Or solo?”

Bakugo, walking a few steps ahead, let out a sharp “Tch,” without turning around. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I’ll crush it.”

The class let out a small ripple of laughter, even though deep down they all knew he probably wasn’t bluffing.

As they neared the split for the locker rooms, Uraraka nudged Kaia’s arm lightly. “You’re being awfully quiet. Got any guesses?”

Kaia gave a thoughtful shrug, a small smirk tugging at her mouth. “Whatever it is… Aizawa-sensei doesn’t do easy.”

The class split into the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms, the excitement still swirling like electricity. Whatever waited for them at Field Gamma, it was sure to test every skill they’d sharpened during their internship week.

The sun hung high overhead as Class 1A gathered at Field Gamma, the sheer size of the training ground always managing to feel a little intimIidating. The air smelled faintly of concrete and steel, the factory portion stretching wide across the horizon with towering cement buildings clustered at the bottom and an elaborate maze of thick, crisscrossing metal pipes stacked like a jungle gym overhead.

Standing near the edge of the factory zone were Aizawa and All Might, both waiting as the class trickled in — Aizawa with his usual disinterested stare, and All Might standing tall, his signature grin stretched wide.

Once everyone was assembled, Aizawa finally spoke, his voice dry but clear.

“Today’s lesson is simple. Rescue — but with some pressure.”

He lifted his hand and pointed toward the far end of the industrial sprawl, where a bright orange rescue dummy was propped up on the roof of one of the distant buildings, barely visible from where they stood.

“See that building over there?”

The class squinted across the distance, spotting the faint figure of All Might — or rather, a second version of him, standing casually near a bright orange rescue dummy propped on the rooftop.

“The first person to reach All Might and tag him — with a simple high five — wins.”

The class straightened up, the competitive spark lighting instantly in their eyes.

“But speed alone isn’t enough,” Aizawa added, his sharp gaze flicking from face to face. “The path you choose will matter. The pipes, the rooftops, ground level — all are open to you. This is about smart thinking under pressure, and the overall winner will be decided based on both time and the route you took.”

All Might, standing far in the distance beside the dummy, lifted his hand in a bright wave. “I’ll be waiting! Make sure to give it all you’ve got!”

Before the class could scatter to stretch, Aizawa held up a hand, halting their movement. From behind his scarf, he pulled out a small bowl, the sound of folded paper rustling softly inside.

“You didn’t think I’d let all of you run at once, did you?” he asked dryly. “You’ll be going in groups — seven at a time. Luck of the draw.”

The class exchanged glances, the tension shifting into curious excitement as Aizawa reached into the bowl and pulled out the first few slips of paper, reading them off one by one.

“Yaoyorozu. Sero. Kirishima. Asui. Mikage. Mineta. Aoyama.”

As each name was called, the students stepped forward, Kaia included, feeling a small ripple of nerves settle in her chest. Her gaze flicked to her group — a mixed bunch of brains, brawn, and quirks, which meant the race could go any direction.

“You’ll be the first group,” Aizawa continued. “Line up at the marker and stretch while the rest of the class watches. Once the first round finishes, I’ll call the next seven.”

Kaia’s eyes drifted to the far end of the field where All Might stood beside the rescue dummy, waiting with his usual bright, encouraging smile. The distance between them looked a lot longer from the starting line.

Kirishima cracked his knuckles, already bouncing lightly on his feet, while Yaoyorozu mentally mapped out the possible paths. Asui crouched low, stretching her legs, her calm expression unreadable as always.

Kaia bent down, touching the ground briefly, feeling for every edge of the earth and metal around her. She wasn’t planning to rely on her quirk unless she absolutely had to — this was a test of speed and judgment, after all — but knowing the terrain gave her an edge.

Aizawa’s voice snapped their focus back.
“You’ve got five minutes. Use it wisely.”

The first group stretched, glanced at one another, and silently began mapping out their strategies. The race was about to begin.

*****

The group of seven stood side by side at the start line, the midday sun casting long shadows over the sprawling terrain of cement buildings and tangled metal pipes ahead. From this distance, the dummy beside All Might looked like a small dot in the distance — a single goal at the end of a complex maze.

Kaia shifted her weight, lowering her stance as her bare soles pressed into the dirt, her senses quietly spreading through the ground beneath her. Every corner, every crack, every pipe — the layout of the factory terrain unfolded like a map in her mind. Her eyes flicked to the metal pipes snaking along the upper levels, feeling the faint hum of their presence.

She wondered for a second. Could she do it? Could she use the new skill she'd worked so hard to develop this week? Nobody knew about her metal control yet — not her classmates, not even Aizawa. If there was ever a time to reveal it, this would be the perfect moment.

From the observation deck Aizawa raised his hand lazily, scarf fluttering slightly in the breeze, and called out to the group.

“On my mark.”

The other students tensed, each ready to dash forward the second the countdown ended.

“Five…” Kaia grounded herself, steady breath in, steady breath out.
“Four…” She felt the earth and metal calling to her fingertips, a silent current of energy waiting to be tapped.
“Three…” Kirishima clenched his fists, muscles locking into position.
“Two…” Asui crouched lower, preparing to leap like a frog.
“One…” Kaia's eyes sharpened.

Time to see what I can really do, she thought with a spark of determination.

At the exact moment Aizawa’s voice cut through the air — “Go!” — Kaia’s arms moved in a sharp, fluid motion, her palms pushing skyward. The earth beneath her responded in an instant.

A thick pillar of rock shot up from the ground, launching her high into the air like a slingshot. The force of it propelled her clean over the heads of her classmates, and before anyone could react, Kaia landed with precision on the flat, sunbaked roof of one of the factory buildings ahead.

The wind rushed past her face, her senses sharp and alive as the rest of the group scattered below, navigating the maze on foot.

Aizawa watched her through narrowed eyes, arms crossed beneath his scarf, a flicker of interest hidden beneath his usual bored expression. He had a strong suspicion after the last few days of her internship, and now he was certain.

Let’s see what you learned, he thought silently, watching as Kaia sprinted forward across the rooftop, her senses locked onto the metal piping that loomed even farther ahead.

This was no longer just a simple rescue race — for Kaia, this was the perfect moment to test the limits of her evolving power.

Her eyes flicked to the network of metal pipes stretched out above the rooftops like a giant spiderweb. She could’ve played it safe — stuck to the walls, used her earth-bending to climb — but that would waste precious time, and she could already feel the vibrations of her classmates getting closer.

A sharp pulse told her Aoyama’s laser had fired off, the humming blast of his naval laser propelling him forward at high speed, closing the gap between them.

Kaia didn’t hesitate. She bent her knees and threw her hands downward, sending a second, sharp burst of earth beneath her feet to launch her skyward — higher this time, aimed straight for the pipe system overhead.

Her body twisted mIidair, fingers stretching out. She could feel the cold pulse of the metal through her senses, like tuning into a new frequency. The moment her hands touched one of the thick metal pipes, something clicked — the same steady connection she had with stone and soil now humming through the steel.

Her grip locked, and rather than swing like a gymnast, she moved the metal itself — bending the pipe ever so slightly, using it to slingshot herself forward, skipping entire sections of rooftop.

She could see All Might’s figure in the distance, standing tall near the dummy. The finish line was in sight.

Kaia’s heart pounded in her chest, but her focus stayed sharp. The wind whipped past her as she swung from pipe to pipe, each movement more confident than the last. She could feel the connection now — not just to the earth but to the metal itself, like an extension of her own limbs.

Behind her, the rest of her group pushed forward. Yaoyorozu crafted tools on the fly to boost her path. Sero zipped through the air, tape firing from his elbows to pull him along the fastest routes. Kirishima bulldozed his way through obstacles with hardened arms, and Asui’s long tongue gave her the ability to clear gaps in leaps. Mineta bounced from his sticky balls, and Aoyama’s laser still left faint scorch marks on the steel as he launched himself forward.

But none of them could catch her.

From the observation deck, Aizawa stood with his arms crossed, a trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. She figured it out, he thought. And she didn’t waste any time showing it.

Around him, the rest of Class 1A leaned in toward the monitors, wide-eyed. Most had never seen Kaia use her quirk like this before — the precision, the speed, the way she manipulated the metal as if she’d been doing it all along. Izuku’s notebook was already half-filled with fresh notes and scribbles, his muttering barely audible under his breath as he analyzed every movement.

Katsuki, standing at the back of the group, watched silently. A sharp smirk edged across his face, sharp and wolfish. His arms were folded, but his foot tapped once against the floor, a silent note of anticipation.

Tch... about damn time, he thought. When it’s our turn to fight — it’s gonna be a real one.

Meanwhile, Kaia closed the last distance with one final leap from the pipes, landing light on her feet right in front of All Might, who greeted her with his usual wide smile.

“Splendid work, young Mikage!” All Might said, raising his hand.

Kaia lifted hers and smacked it against his in a clean, victorious high-five.

Her chest still rising and falling from the rush, she turned back to the course — the adrenaline wearing off and pride settling in. She did it.

One by one, the rest of her group finally closed the distance across the sprawling factory terrain.

Aoyama was the next to arrive, landing with a theatrical spin and striking a dramatic pose even though he was winded. “Navel laser elegance,” he huffed, hands on his hips, trying to hide the fact that his knees were shaking slightly.

Right behind him came Asui, light on her feet, her tongue pulling her forward in the final stretch before landing smoothly next to Kaia and giving her a soft smile. “Kaia-chan, that was amazing,” she croaked casually, only a hint of breathlessness in her voice.

Sero swung in next, landing in a crouch and brushing his hair back. “Dude, you were moving like a pro,” he said, impressed but still catching his breath.

Yaoyorozu came in steady but slightly slower, the tools she’d created throughout the course weighing down her utility belt. Even still, her expression was bright with respect as she approached Kaia. “You’ve definitely been holding back on us,” she commented, hands resting lightly on her hips.

Kirishima jogged in soon after, sweat beading down his temple, grinning wide. “Now that was manly! You’ve gotten strong, Kaia.”

Mineta — bringing up the rear as usual — waddled his way to the finish line, nearly collapsing when he reached them. “I-I’m just glad I made it out alive…” he whimpered, flopping onto the ground dramatically.

All Might gave the group a hearty nod, clapping his hands together. “Excellent work, all of you! Teamwork, skill, adaptability — all important for future heroes. But today, speed and strategy win the day, and the clear winner of this round is — Mikage Kaia!”

Her classmates, even the ones still catching their breath, broke into scattered applause and shouts of congratulations. The moment was brief, but genuine.

From the observation deck, Aizawa jotted something into his clipboard, his voice crackling through the speakers.
“Alright. Report to the observation deck all of you.”

The first group climbed the stairs back to the observation deck, sweat still clinging to their skin and hearts still racing from the adrenaline. Kaia was the first to reach the top, her steps steady but her lungs working overtime to cool her down. As they all lined up, Aizawa stood with his clipboard in hand, eyes flicking from one student to the next.

"Line up," he said simply, waiting until they were all in order. Once they were still, his sharp gaze settled on Kaia first.

"Mikage," he started, closing the clipboard slightly. "You’ve clearly been working on something during your internship. You weren’t just using your seismic sense out there — you’ve tapped into something new. Controlled, precise. Good. But don’t rely too much on power plays. Efficiency is key, especially under pressure."

Kaia gave him a respectful nod, her expression serious but proud.

Aizawa’s eyes shifted next to Aoyama. "You’ve improved on your mobility. The laser propulsion is risky, but you kept it steady this time. Watch your limits — overdoing it can leave you wide open."

Aoyama struck a playful salute, but the serious gleam in Aizawa’s eye left no room for his usual dramatic flair.

"Asui," Aizawa continued, "as expected, you read the environment well. Your approach was clean and tactical. Keep sharpening that awareness."

She blinked once, giving her usual calm “ribbit” in acknowledgment.

"Sero. You’ve got good instincts with your tape, but you were too quick to rely on it. Think before you shoot — the shortest path isn’t always the safest."

Sero nodded, running a hand through his hair, soaking in the note.

"Yaoyorozu," he moved on. "Adaptable as always. Your choice of tools was practical for this terrain, but you hesitated twice at the start. Trust your instincts."

She straightened her posture, making mental notes to correct the slip.

"Kirishima," Aizawa said, glancing toward him. "Good endurance and strong finish. But brute force won’t always win you the race. Work on your speed and sharp turns."

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Got it, Sensei."

Lastly, his gaze dropped to Mineta, who still looked like he was going to pass out. "Mineta. You finished. Barely. You’ve got to work on your stamina and quit panicking the second the course gets hard. Heroes don’t get to shut down when things look impossible."

Mineta let out a nervous laugh, nodding frantically. "Y-yes, sir!"

Aizawa straightened up. "You all showed improvement. Take the feedback seriously. This exercise was about more than just speed — it was about reading your environment and using your skills under pressure. Mikage set the bar for the day. The rest of you? I expect to see that same growth."

The group stepped back as Aizawa turned his attention to the next seven names, reaching into the bowl once again. Without much fanfare, he began reading off the names:

"Midoriya. Bakugo. Uraraka. Tokoyami. Shoji. Hagakure. Kaminari. You're up."

The seven students exchanged looks — some full of quiet focus, others buzzing with excitement or mild nerves. Katsuki rolled his shoulders with a sharp huff, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, while Izuku looked down at his shoes, already mentally calculating the terrain he’d observed on the screens.

"Get moving. Start line's waiting," Aizawa ordered.

The second group trotted off, gathering at the base of the factory course while All Might waved them over with his usual booming, "I AM HERE!" voice, standing tall by the rescue dummy at the far side.

Kaia leaned against the railing of the observation deck, still catching her breath but watching them closely. She felt the shift in the air, the tension between Midoriya and Bakugo already brewing before Aizawa even started the countdown.

"Same rules," Aizawa announced over the mic. "Rescue mission. First to tag All Might wins. Your time will be recorded, so make it count."

The group tensed, each one dropping into their ready stances as Aizawa raised his hand.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One… GO!"

The moment Aizawa gave the signal, the second group burst forward like fired bullets.

Bakugo's explosions launched him high into the air, already separating him from the cluster of his classmates. His sharp, competitive scowl deepened the moment he caught sight of All Might in the distance, standing tall next to the dummy. His mind honed in on one goal — win. Fast.

Midoriya, meanwhile, kept his pace steady, legs pumping hard but his eyes darting everywhere. His strategy was more about analyzing the layout, using what he saw Kaia do earlier as a mental note, but adjusting to avoid overusing One for All too early. Uraraka had lightened her body and practically floated from rooftop to rooftop, bouncing gracefully and keeping herself centered, a soft smile tucked at the corner of her lips as she glided through the open air.

Tokoyami and Dark Shadow worked in sync, launching the boy forward in sharp bursts, each one a calculated push closer to the dummy. Shoji and Hagakure moved lower, weaving between the buildings and sticking to tight corners to make up for speed. Kaminari surged along with short bursts of electricity trailing off his boots, trying to maintain control without frying his brain.

But Bakugo — his determination was unmatched.

He zigzagged through the pipes and rooftops with reckless precision, timing each explosion at his palms to perfection. Kaia, watching from the observation deck, felt the rush of heat and force ripple through the air even at that distance. Aizawa’s sharp eyes followed Bakugo's trajectory, flicking to the large digital clock as the seconds ticked by.

All Might's cape fluttered in the wind as the dummy waited beside him, the hero standing like a finish-line statue. Bakugo, using a final, ground-shaking blast, launched himself over the last stretch of the course, his hand stretching out — teeth clenched, sweat trailing behind him — and slammed his palm against All Might's outstretched hand in a sharp high five.

"TIME!" All Might called out.

The stopwatch froze. Aizawa checked the board as the digital numbers locked into place.

Kaia's time still sat at the top — Bakugo had missed beating it by just three seconds.

From the ground, Bakugo landed, panting but grinning fiercely to himself, knowing just how close he'd come. All Might clapped him on the back with a proud laugh.

"A splendid effort, young Bakugo! Just a hair shy of the fastest time today."

On the observation deck, the rest of the class exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Katsuki glanced up at the deck, locking eyes with Kaia for a brief moment, his smirk widening.

It wasn’t trash talk. It was a silent promise:
Next time, I’m taking that top spot.

Kaia arched an eyebrow and gave him a small, competitive smile right back.

The second group climbed the steps back to the observation deck, still catching their breath from the race. Bakugo was the last to join them, his usual scowl softened into something sharp and proud. Aizawa stood waiting, arms crossed, the clipboard tucked under one elbow as his eyes flicked over the students.

"Bakugo," he started flatly, "excellent use of your quirk for speed, but you wasted time mid-course adjusting your trajectory. If you'd kept a straighter line, you'd have shaved those extra seconds off."

Bakugo gave a sharp, prideful snort but didn’t argue — he knew Aizawa was right.

"Midoriya," Aizawa continued, "your approach was smart, but you hesitated too long on the upper platforms. You could’ve used your analysis faster. Work on your reaction time."

Midoriya nodded earnestly, notebook still in hand. "Yes, sir."

"Uraraka," Aizawa shifted his gaze. "You had great mobility, but your transitions between platforms were slow. Focus on quick recovery between moves."

"Got it!" she replied, still winded but smiling.

Aizawa's eyes moved through the rest of the group:
"Tokoyami, strong start, but Dark Shadow’s power was underutilized in open space. Shoji, good flexibility, but your route wasn’t efficient. Hagakure, you stayed hidden, but you sacrificed too much speed. Kaminari…" He gave a tired sigh. "You pushed too hard too fast. Keep your power level steady or you’ll burn out."

Each student nodded, taking the feedback to heart.

Once Aizawa finished, he glanced down at the names in the bowl one last time.

"Final group. Suit up and get to the start line."

The last group lined up at the base of Field Gamma, the sun hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the complex web of factory buildings and metal structures. The rest of Class 1A crowded the observation deck railing, buzzing with excitement, placing quiet bets and teasing each other over who might pull off a surprise win.

Kaia stood off to the side, arms crossed loosely, her body still buzzing from her own run. She tilted her head slightly, her seismic sense brushing over the terrain again, as if replaying the course in her mind. Her thoughts lingered on Katsuki’s near win — three seconds. The next rematch between them was going to be something.

Aizawa’s voice rang out again from the observation deck:
"On my mark — last round."

The final group gathered at the start line, stretching and shaking out their limbs as the late afternoon sun glared off the factory’s metal surfaces. Todoroki stood calm and collected, his usual quiet focus lingering behind his sharp eyes. Idaadjusted his glasses, his posture perfect and ready, engines on his calves already humming softly with anticipation.

Ashido bounced in place, grinning, while Jirou rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, her jacks twitching slightly as she kept her eyes on the layout ahead. Koda, quiet as always, crouched low to the ground, mentally preparing, while Sato clenched and unclenched his fists, his muscles tense and eager for the run. Oshiro shifted her weight from foot to foot, nerves brewing under her skin but determination clear in her expression.

From the observation deck, Aizawa raised his hand.

"Ready."

The students lowered into their starting stances.

"Set."

Kaia stood with the others, eyes flicking to the group. She could feel the low rumble of Ida's engines even from where she stood.

"Go!"

In a flash of blue light and roaring engines, Idablasted forward, instantly taking the lead. His movements were sharp and precise, bounding over obstacles with ease, his eyes locked on the path ahead.

Todoroki moved next, cold mist swirling as he used short bursts of ice to slide across gaps between buildings, conserving energy rather than sprinting flat-out. Ashido used her acid to slide along surfaces, keeping her momentum light and smooth, while Jirou used her sound jacks to swing between steel beams like grappling hooks, staying agile and quick.

Koda guided birds along his route to help scout the best path forward, while Sato relied on raw power, brute-forcing his way across gaps and scaling walls with strength alone. Oshiro moved like a shadow, sticking to the walls and pipes, using her agility to weave through the maze-like factory terrain.

Ida’s engines flared even brighter once he hit the open stretch, using Reciproburst at the perfect moment, launching himself across the final section like a human rocket. All Might, standing beside the dummy at the far end, stood tall, bracing for the high-five.

Kaia watched the scene unfold on the observation deck monitors, heart racing as Idaclosed in.

With one final push, Idaextended his hand —
Smack! His palm hit All Might’s outstretched one.

The timer stopped.

From the deck, Aizawa clicked his stopwatch and raised an eyebrow.

"One second slower than Mikage."

The class let out a mix of cheers and surprised gasps. Idastood near the dummy, chest heaving as his engines slowly cooled. He adjusted his glasses once more, catching his breath but standing proud.

Todoroki arrived next, followed by Ashido, then Jirou, Koda, Oshiro, and Sato. Each student came in with varying times, but the standout was clear.

When the last of them returned to the observation deck, Aizawa stood waiting for the final feedback session.

"Good work. Ida— almost flawless execution. The only thing that cost you was your start; you waited for too long to use Recipro. Earlier burst, and you might've taken the lead."

Idanodded respectfully, pushing his glasses up. "Understood, sir."

Aizawa moved down the line, offering sharp but fair advice to each of them. When he finished, he turned to face the entire class.

"This was more than just a race. This was about knowing your surroundings, calculating the fastest path, and making real-time decisions. Those of you who rushed in without thinking slowed yourselves down. Those who hesitated lost momentum. Both are dangerous in real hero work."

All Might stepped forward, beaming proudly. "You all showed spirit and effort — but remember, it's not always about who gets there first, but how well you perform under pressure."

The class nodded, taking the words to heart.

As the class began to gather their things, chatting and stretching out the lingering stiffness from the race, Aizawa’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation.

“Before you all head back to the locker rooms…”

The students turned, curious, as he reached into his capture weapon and pulled out a small envelope — simple, plain, but the logo in the corner instantly gave it away: the local ice cream shop that almost every UA student knew and loved.

Aizawa held it up between two fingers.

“The winner of today’s exercise — based not only on speed but adaptability and control — Mikage.”

Kaia blinked, a little wide-eyed, caught off guard by the announcement as the class looked her way. Aizawa stepped toward her, extending the envelope.

“You earned it. Enjoy.”

There was the faintest soft curve at the corner of his mouth — not quite a smile, but the closest thing to it. Kaia accepted the gift card, the cool paper smooth in her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, still a bit surprised but unable to stop the small, proud smile blooming across her face.

Ashido was the first to break the moment, pumping her fist into the air. “Ice cream on you next time, Kaia!”

Kaminari grinned. “You better get the biggest sundae on the menu!”

Even Bakugo, arms crossed, snorted under his breath, “Tch. Lucky.”

As the class finally made their way off the observation deck and toward the locker rooms, the warm buzz of friendly chatter followed them. Kaia tucked the gift card into her pocket, feeling not just the reward, but the quiet confidence that came from knowing her hard work was being noticed.

Aizawa watched them go, hands back in his pockets. The day’s lesson was done — but for the students of Class 1-A, the real learning never stopped.

*****

The girls' locker room filled with the usual sounds of creaking lockers, zippers being tugged, and the shuffle of gym clothes swapping for school uniforms. The air was still buzzing with excitement from the day’s training, and Kaia had barely stepped out of her gym shoes before Ashido was spinning toward her.

“Kaia, girl — that was insane! When did you even learn to do all that?!” Ashido asked, wide-eyed as she peeled off her UA gym shirt.

Yaoyorozu, buttoning her blouse neatly, nodded with an approving smile. “Your control was incredible, Mikage. You’ve clearly put in a lot of training over the internship week.”

Kaia rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks warming slightly. “Thanks. My dad helped me figure some stuff out. I guess I was just… ready to test it.”

Asui, perched on the bench as she tied her shoes, tilted her head in her usual calm tone. “You must’ve worked hard, Kaia. I could feel how steady your control was, even from the ground.”

Jirou, slinging her uniform jacket over her shoulder, let out a short laugh. “Ida’s gonna be salty he missed first place by one second. And Bakugo — man, he looked like he was ready to explode when Aizawa handed you that gift card.”

That got a soft chuckle from Kaia, and even Ochaco joined in, floating her shoes up slightly as she chimed in, “You earned it though! You were like — whoosh! Right up onto the roof. I didn’t even see you leave the start line.”

Ashido leaned in, grinning. “You better invite us when you cash that gift card, Mikage! Ice cream is best when you’ve got company.”

Kaia smiled, her earlier nerves fading under the comfort of her friends' voices. “Deal. ice cream’s on me.”

The girls continued to chatter and laugh as they finished getting dressed, their voices light and carefree, the bond between them as solid as ever.

The boys' locker room was its usual storm of noise — the sharp snap of lockers slamming shut, the scrape of sneakers being kicked off, and voices bouncing off the tiled walls in a messy symphony of energy. Shirts were being yanked off, towels whipped through the air, and the air still hung heavy with the buzz from the rescue mission.

Kirishima was the first to kick off the conversation, peeling his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. “Man, Kaia really crushed it out there, huh? I thought for sure Bakugo or Idawould’ve snatched the win.”

Sero, hanging his uniform blazer on a hook, let out a low whistle. “Dude, I know! I saw her launch onto the rooftops like it was nothing. And that whole metal pipe trick? Slick as hell. I didn’t even know she could do that.”

Kaminari flopped onto the bench, his gym shirt still tangled halfway over his head as he added, “I thought Aoyama had it when he laser-blasted across, but then Kaia just went full action hero. That was seriously cool.”

Bakugo, crouched by his locker lacing his boots, let out a sharp, dismissive “Tch.” His scowl was set, but his tone wasn’t pure annoyance — more like simmering, competitive respect.
“She got lucky.”

Kirishima clapped him on the shoulder, grinning wide. “C’mon, man, you were only three seconds behind her. That’s the closest anyone got today.”

Bakugo stood, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. “Next time, she’s not walking away with it.”

Across the room, Idaadjusted his glasses and smoothed down his uniform tie. His voice was steady, but there was the faintest edge of disappointment underneath.
“Her precision was impressive. One second separated me from the top time... It seems I underestimated her new level of control.”

Midoriya, perched on the bench with his ever-present notebook balanced on his knee, scribbled furiously between changing shirts. His voice drifted, more to himself than anyone else.
“Kaia’s quirk evolution is fascinating... Her control over earth and metal, combined with that seismic sense — it’s like her whole body maps the terrain in real-time. I wonder if the metal manipulation is an extension of—”

“Oi, nerd,” Bakugo cut him off, sharp as always, yanking his bag from the locker. “Stop muttering before your damn brain short-circuits.”

Midoriya flinched slightly but gave a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry.”

Meanwhile, Mineta, who had been quiet up until now, leaned back against his locker, his signature sleazy smirk spreading across his face.
“Man, I gotta say... all the girls were looking extra fine today. Ashido’s legs, Yaoyorozu’s whole model vibe, Jirou with those headphones and that tough-girl thing going on — hell, even Asui’s got that cute, quiet thing nailed.” He paused, letting out a little chuckle. “But Kaia? Bet under that tough, stone-cold quirk, she’s got curves in all the right places. I wouldn’t mind getting a little hands-on lesson in ‘rescue missions’ with her.”

The room fell silent.

Bakugo, slow and steady, turned his head toward Mineta, his jaw tightening, eyes sharp as glass.
“The hell did you just say, you damn grape.”

Mineta held his hands up in fake surrender, though the grin stayed plastered on his face. “Hey, hey, can’t blame a guy for appreciating the view.”

Bakugo stood, fists flexing. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll blast your pervy face through the wall.”

Before fists could fly, Kirishima threw a hand between them, trying to steer the tension elsewhere. “Alright, alright, Mineta’s just being... Mineta. No need to level the locker room over it.”

Ida, ever the voice of reason, crossed his arms and gave Mineta a hard look. “That sort of talk is not appropriate for future pro heroes. Show some dignity.”

Sero leaned over to Kaminari, muttering under his breath with a snort, “Honestly, surprised someone hasn’t duct-taped him to the ceiling by now.”

Kaminari grinned, glancing at Mineta. “Give it time.”

The chatter moved on, talk shifting back to quirk strategy and what the next training might hold, but the competitive spark — especially from Bakugo — burned hotter than ever.

*****

The sun was setting as Kaia and the girls walked down the bustling street, the sound of laughter mingling with the occasional beep of passing cars. The group had decided to head to the ice cream shop near the local park, where the air was cool and the atmosphere was relaxed — the perfect way to unwind after a hectic day.

Kaia held the gift card from Mr. Aizawa, her fingers lightly tapping the edges as she smiled to herself. "So," she began, holding up the card, "how about I treat you all to some ice cream? A little victory celebration."

The girls exchanged glances, their faces lighting up in excitement.

"Wait, for real?" Ashido grinned, already bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You mean we get to pick whatever we want?"

"Yup," Kaia nodded, flipping the card between her fingers. "Thanks to Mr. Aizawa, we get to enjoy a sweet treat on me."

"Best. Day. Ever," Ashido squealed, practically skipping toward the shop.

Yaoyorozu smiled, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. "You're too kind, Kaia. It's a well-deserved treat after today's training."

They entered the ice cream shop, the cool air hitting them like a breeze as they stepped inside. The counter was lined with an array of vibrant flavours — from the classic vanilla and chocolate to more adventurous choices like matcha and bubblegum.

Kaia walked up to the counter and handed the gift card to the cashier, her eyes scanning the selections. "I'll have a double scoop of cookies and cream, please. I’m keeping it simple today." She turned to the girls, “What are you all getting?”

Ashido immediately started jumping from one foot to the other, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I'm getting the biggest cone with all the rainbow sprinkles and cotton candy on top! Gotta go big, right?"

Yaoyorozu chose a more elegant combination, opting for a scoop of green tea ice cream and one of red bean paste. "I do enjoy a balance of sweet and earthy flavours," she remarked, as she carefully picked her flavours.

Jirou raised an eyebrow and nudged Kaia. "I’m just here for chocolate — maybe throw in a little peanut butter to balance it out."

Asui simply pointed to a scoop of matcha, her face calm and serene. "I’ll go with matcha. It’s comforting."

Kaia paid for everyone’s orders, and as they sat down at the outdoor tables, enjoying their ice cream, Kaia felt a sense of contentment she hadn’t realized she needed.

"You all deserved this," she said, leaning back in her seat with a small smile as she enjoyed her scoop of cookies and cream. "We’ve been pushing hard, and I think we’re all doing great."

"Thanks for treating us, Kaia," Yaoyorozu said, her tone warm and sincere. "This has been such a great day. It’s nice to just relax for a moment."

"I swear, you’re the best," Ashido added between licks of her giant cone. "I can’t wait to do this again."

As they sat at the outdoor table, each of the girls dug into their ice cream with content smiles, but their conversation quickly turned back to the day’s training exercise. The excitement of the race still buzzed in the air.

"I still can’t believe Kaia’s time," Jirou said, half in awe, half in disbelief, as she twirled her spoon through her chocolate-peanut butter combo. "You were like a rocket out there, Kaia. I mean, I knew you were strong, but that was something else."

Kaia chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. "It’s all about control. I’ve been working on using my quirk in different ways, pushing it a bit further. Guess it paid off."

Yaoyorozu leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "You were moving so quickly, I honestly thought you were just going to win with ease from the start. But the way you used the metal pipes to boost yourself—was that part of your plan all along?"

Kaia took a slow bite of her ice cream before responding. "Honestly? Not really. I figured the pipes might help, but I wasn’t sure how well it would work in the moment. I just went for it." She smiled sheepishly. "Guess I got lucky."

Ashido laughed, taking a massive bite of her ice cream cone. "Lucky? Girl, you nailed it. And don’t even get me started on that rock pillar launch. That was insane."

"Yeah," Jirou agreed. "You made it look effortless. Everyone else was scrambling to catch up."

Kaia shook her head, feeling a little shy from the praise. "It wasn’t easy, trust me. Aoyama almost had me, and I thought I was gonna lose it when I heard his naval laser blasting behind me." She paused, glancing around at her friends. "But it felt really good, you know? Like, I’m finally able to tap into something new with my quirk."

"You totally rocked it today," Yaoyorozu said with a warm smile. "Honestly, we all did great. Even when the guys were pushing hard, it felt like everyone was really trying their best."

Ashido raised her hand dramatically. "I was not about to let anyone beat me to that finish line! I was determined to at least keep up with the boys!"

They all laughed, but Kaia couldn’t help but notice how proud everyone sounded, even in their playful banter. It felt nice to be part of something where everyone was just focused on improving and pushing each other.

"By the way," Jirou added, her expression turning thoughtful, "what was with the whole ‘Bakugo and Ida’ rivalry today? It was like you could feel the tension between them even without looking."

Kaia snorted softly, leaning back in her chair. "They’ve been like that since forever. But I think today, with the whole race thing, it’s more like they were both determined to come out on top. Idawas really focused on his time. I can’t even imagine how disappointed he must feel about losing by just one second."

"Same," Yaoyorozu nodded. "But hey, we all saw how hard he pushed. It’s not a loss — it’s just a sign that everyone is improving."

Ashido grinned. "That’s true! I’m just glad I didn’t come in last this time. I think I’m getting better at the whole ‘strategy’ thing."

"Good to see you thinking ahead," Kaia teased, nudging Ashido with her elbow. "You’re growing, girl."

The conversation flowed easily after that, with the girls talking about their experiences during the race, what they had learned, and their thoughts on what they could do better next time. Kaia couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of belonging as they all laughed and joked around. It was a far cry from the pressure of being in the field or constantly training to be the best — just a simple moment with friends, enjoying each other’s company.

As the conversation continued, the topic shifted, as it often did when the girls were together, to something a little more personal. It started with Ashido, who couldn't hide her mischievous grin.

"So," she said, leaning forward, her voice full of playful curiosity, "what’s the deal with all the boys around here? We’ve been getting close, so I’m just wondering… anyone got their eyes on someone in particular?"

Kaia’s eyebrows raised, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. Ashido had definitely steered the conversation in a direction that would get everyone talking.

"Seriously Ashido?" Jirou snorted. "You're going there again, huh? Kaia, you’ve been awfully quiet. What about you?"

Kaia’s eyes widened, and she quickly shot a glance at the others. "W-what? Me?" Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she tried to deflect. "I’m not—"

Before she could finish, Ashido jumped in, her voice full of teasing. "Oh come on! You’re always all mysterious about it. I mean, you are a pro at keeping a poker face."

Kaia was saved, or perhaps trapped, by her friends' relentless teasing. She gave a sheepish laugh, but before she could say anything, she noticed Ochaco’s flushed face as she shyly hid behind her ice cream cone.

"Wait a second," Yaoyorozu said, her expression suddenly amused. "Ochaco, are you blushing?"

Ochaco’s face turned a deeper shade of pink, and she quickly tried to change the subject. "N-no! I’m just—it's nothing! Just, uh, the ice cream is...really cold."

The girls exchanged knowing looks, and Ashido burst out laughing. "Aha! Gotcha! You’ve definitely got someone on your mind, don’t you, Uraraka?"

Ochaco shifted nervously in her seat. "It's...it’s not like that! I just—I mean, I think they’re a nice person, okay?"

"Who?" Jirou pressed, trying to hold back her own smirk. "Spill! Don’t leave us hanging, girl."

Ochaco hesitated, biting her lip, but finally she sighed, her face turning almost crimson. "Okay, fine. It’s, um...it's Midoriya."

The moment Ochaco admitted it, the table erupted into a chorus of giggles and teasing.

"Ohhh," Ashido teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "The ever-adorable Deku, huh?"

"Wait, no, I didn’t mean to make it sound like it’s a big deal!" Ochaco stammered, her hands flailing in embarrassment. "I just... I think he’s sweet and all!"

Yaoyorozu smiled warmly. "It’s totally okay, Ochaco. We’ve all seen the way you look at him sometimes. I think it’s adorable."

"Yeah, and honestly, you two would make a great couple!" Jirou added with a grin, nudging Ochaco gently.

Meanwhile, Kaia had a sly grin on her face, crossing her arms. "You know, you guys are the ones putting it all out there. What about you, Ashido?" She raised an eyebrow. "You seem pretty interested in someone lately."

Ashido’s eyes widened for a moment, but then she just shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said nonchalantly, trying to look innocent. But the smirk on her face betrayed her.

Kaia laughed, not buying it for a second. "Mmhm, sure. If you say so."

Jirou leaned back in her chair, a wicked smile creeping up on her face. "What about you, Kaia? Come on fess up already.”

Kaia blinked and for a moment, she considered playing coy. But the teasing was all in good fun, and she decided to be a little more open. "I mean," she said slowly, glancing around at the group. "There is someone who’s pretty special."

The girls leaned in, eager to hear more.

"Who?" Ashido asked with wide eyes. "Spill it!"

Kaia hesitated for only a moment. "It’s…someone I respect a lot. He’s a little intense, but in a good way."

The girls waited, their curiosity piqued. They were all silent, practically on the edge of their seats, waiting for the final reveal.

"Who is it?" Jirou asked again, her voice almost too eager.

Kaia raised an eyebrow playfully. "I’ll keep it a secret for now. You’ll just have to wait and see."

The girls groaned collectively, but all of them were satisfied with the teasing exchange.

"Well, at least we know you're not completely immune to the charm of the boys around here," Ashido said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright, alright," Kaia laughed, wiping her hands on her napkin. "Can we just enjoy our ice cream without it always turning into some kind of love confessions circle?"

The girls laughed together, their earlier teasing forgotten as they relaxed into comfortable conversation once more. The topic of crushes was left hanging in the air, and though Kaia had dodged a full reveal, the camaraderie between the girls felt stronger than ever.

Chapter Text

As the school year progressed, life at UA seemed to settle into a steady rhythm for Kaia. Her days were filled with a mix of intense hero training, academic work, and, thankfully, more moments to unwind with her friends. She had become more skilled in both earth and metal manipulation, the new abilities she had developed over the past few months felt natural to her now. The rush of excitement she had initially felt when discovering her control over metal had turned into a deep sense of mastery, and she was eager to continue refining her technique. She kept herself grounded in her studies as well, staying ahead in her coursework with the same diligence she applied to her training.

Kaia’s parents had been finding a balance as well. Their relationship, which had been somewhat strained during the tumultuous times with her dad being in the hero world, was slowly mending. They had found more time for each other recently—more date nights, more moments of understanding. It was a relief for Kaia to see them reconnect. She couldn't remember the last time they had been this happy, and she felt a sense of peace knowing that things were finally falling into place at home.

Her bond with the girls in Class 1-A had grown stronger too. They were no longer just classmates, but real friends. Every weekend, the girls gathered together for hangouts—whether it was shopping trips, movie marathons, or just sitting around talking about everything and nothing. Those moments of laughter and light-hearted chatter had quickly become Kaia’s favorite time of the week, and they gave her a chance to connect with everyone on a more personal level.

Though the girls had become closer, Kaia’s relationship with the boys—particularly Izuku and Katsuki—was still a work in progress. She had been spending more time with both of them separately, understanding the need for space while the tension between them remained. Izuku’s shy, earnest personality clashed with Katsuki’s brash, explosive nature, and it often made things feel a bit awkward when all three were in the same room. However, Kaia was determined to help rebuild their friendship. She had faith that with time, they could reconcile, even if it was a slow process.

Izuku had been the first to approach her about it, quietly expressing his desire to fix things with Katsuki. "I just don't know what happened, Kaia," Izuku had admitted one afternoon while they were walking back to the dorms. "I don't want to lose the bond we had when we were younger. But... sometimes it feels like it’s impossible to bridge the gap." Kaia had listened patiently, offering her quiet support, but she knew deep down that this wasn’t something she could force.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was more of a mystery. His pride and ego were a tough wall to break through, but Kaia had seen glimpses of the softer side of him—the side that still cared, even if he didn’t always know how to show it. The quiet moments with him were rare but meaningful. There were times when they sparred together during training, and for a few seconds, there was no rivalry—just two people working side by side, pushing each other to be better.

Despite everything, Kaia held onto the hope that one day, the three of them could go back to being the inseparable trio they had once been. She knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy fix. There was a lot of history between Izuku and Katsuki—years of rivalry and unspoken feelings that couldn’t just be erased in a single conversation. But Kaia had always believed in the strength of their bond, and she wasn’t ready to give up on it yet.

*****

Kaia’s footsteps slowed as she spotted Katsuki just outside the gates of U.A. He stood against the wall, one hand buried in his hair and the other gripping the strap of his gym bag, his posture rigid. On the outside, he looked like he was just catching his breath after the intense training session, but Kaia could sense that something was off. She’d spent enough time with him to know when his pride was in full swing, and right now, it was clear he wasn’t in a great mood.

Her seismic sense picked up the small shifts in his heartbeat, the erratic rhythm of his breathing, and the slight tension in his muscles. She could tell that whatever had happened in training had thrown him off, and he wasn’t handling it well.

Kaia hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she should give him space or approach. After a brief pause, she walked over to him, her steps quiet on the pavement, and stood beside him, leaning slightly against the wall.

She didn’t say anything at first, simply letting the silence settle between them. She knew Katsuki didn’t want to show weakness, especially not to her, but sometimes, just being there was enough.

When she finally spoke, her tone was soft, but her words were clear. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine, you know.”

Katsuki shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye, the familiar scowl etched on his face. He was clearly trying to brush it off, but Kaia could see the frustration just beneath the surface. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice rough, but there was no conviction in it. “Just had a rough session. Nothing to make a big deal out of.”

Kaia raised an eyebrow, sensing the lie in his words. “Sure, you’re fine. But it’s okay if you’re not.”

He snorted, not quite meeting her eyes. “Tch. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. I’ll handle it myself.”

Kaia didn’t push him. She knew better than to force him to talk when he wasn’t ready, but she also knew he wasn’t one to let things go. Instead of offering more words, she reached up and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, a simple, comforting gesture.

“I’m not feeling sorry for you,” she said quietly, her voice steady. “I just know you don’t always have to handle everything on your own. I’m here if you need to vent or whatever.”

Katsuki’s back stiffened slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He glanced down at her hand briefly before meeting her eyes, his expression still gruff but with a softer edge to it. “You’re too soft, you know that?”

Kaia smirked slightly, her hand still resting on his shoulder. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m not tough when I need to be.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Whatever,” he muttered, though the heat in his gaze had cooled slightly. “I’m not gonna start crying over a stupid training session. I’ll fix it myself.”

Kaia chuckled softly, pulling her hand back and taking a step to the side, giving him the space to breathe. “I didn’t expect you to,” she said with a teasing lilt to her voice. “But if you ever do want to talk—or even just hang out and not think about training—let me know.”

Katsuki huffed, though there was less irritation behind it now. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smile.

Kaia gave him a playful look. “It’s called being a good friend.”

For a moment, there was a pause. Katsuki didn’t say anything, but Kaia could feel the shift in the air between them. He wasn’t as tense as usual. She had a feeling he appreciated the space she gave him, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“You’re lucky you’re not as annoying as everyone else,” he muttered under his breath, clearly trying to keep up his usual tough-guy persona.

Kaia couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “I’m not annoying, I’m just a good friend. One that knows when you need space—and when you need someone to just be there.”

Katsuki’s expression softened, just a little, as he looked away, his shoulders loosening. He didn’t respond with his usual harshness. Instead, he simply muttered, “Yeah, whatever. Don’t expect me to get all mushy about it.”

Kaia laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t need you to be mushy. Just... don’t shut everyone out, okay?”

Katsuki let out a breath through his nose, not quite agreeing but not dismissing her either. “You’re not as annoying as I thought,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Kaia’s smile widened, and she gave him a playful wink before starting to walk away. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Katsuki stayed behind, his expression still as stubborn as ever, but Kaia could sense that he was in a better place than he had been when she first found him. It wasn’t a huge breakthrough, but it was progress.

As they walked out of the gates of U.A., the evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass from the training fields. The tension that had clouded Katsuki earlier seemed to have dissipated, though he still carried his usual prideful demeanor. Kaia walked beside him, her steps light and comfortable, knowing he wasn't quite ready for anything deep but appreciating the silence they shared.

They passed by the ice cream shop, and Kaia's eyes caught the familiar neon sign. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips as an idea popped into her head.

She turned to Katsuki, her hand resting casually at her side, but there was a subtle gleam in her eye. "Hey, I still have some money left on that gift card. I was thinking… you want to grab something?"

Katsuki, who had been staring straight ahead, barely acknowledged her at first, but when he glanced over and saw the offer on her face, his scowl softened—just slightly. "Tch. You know you don't have to do that," he muttered, his voice rough but less annoyed than usual.

Kaia smiled, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "I know, but it's a gift card, and I’m not gonna let it go to waste. Plus, you’ve got a bit of an ice cream smile on your face already." She gave him a teasing glance.

Katsuki rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You’re lucky you’re persistent. Fine. But don’t think I’ll be sharing with you."

Kaia laughed softly, her smile warm as she pushed open the door to the ice cream shop. "I wouldn’t dream of it," she teased, her voice light and easy.

The shop was cozy, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of waffle cones. They both ordered their ice cream, and as Kaia handed over the gift card, the cashier gave her a surprised look before punching in the total. She had just enough for two generous scoops.

With their cones in hand, they stepped back outside, the cool evening breeze brushing against their faces. The world seemed quieter now, and the walk toward their neighbourhood felt more relaxed than it had when they first left the school.

As they walked side by side, Kaia couldn't help but notice how their shoulders brushed lightly with every step. It wasn’t accidental. There was something subtle—an unspoken connection—that made her heart skip just a little every time it happened.

"Still think I'm annoying?" Kaia asked, her voice playfully challenging, though the question had a different edge to it this time—an underlying curiosity, a hint of vulnerability she usually kept hidden behind her teasing tone.

Katsuki shot her a sideways glance, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he considered her question. "Nah," he muttered after a moment, a rare honesty in his voice. "You’re not as bad as you think you are."

Kaia’s smile grew, but she didn’t push it. The warmth between them was enough. They continued walking, the evening settling in around them as they moved through the quiet streets. Her heart felt lighter, and though it was nothing overt, she couldn’t help but feel that subtle shift between them. Something unspoken, something new, but with the kind of comfort only friends—or maybe something more—could share.

The quiet moments were starting to feel more like something they both needed, and Kaia wondered, just for a second, if Katsuki might be starting to feel it too.

Katsuki, for his part, seemed just a little less guarded than usual. He wasn’t as tense, and his steps were a little slower, like he wasn’t quite in a hurry to get home, either.

A few blocks later, they reached the Mikage house, where their paths would separate, and Kaia found herself reluctant to say goodbye.

"See you tomorrow?" Kaia asked, her voice softer now, as if she didn't want to break the spell of this moment.

Katsuki paused, looking over at her, his gaze softening just a fraction. "Yeah, whatever," he replied, though the words didn’t carry the same edge they usually did. Instead, there was something a little more genuine beneath them. "I’ll see you around."

Kaia nodded, her heart warming as they exchanged a look—one that lingered for just a moment too long before she gave him a small, satisfied smile. "Later, then."

As she turned and walked toward her house, she couldn’t help but feel the subtle weight of his presence beside her, even as he walked in the opposite direction. It was something more than just friendship now—something that hadn’t fully taken root but was slowly blossoming between them, something they were both too stubborn to acknowledge just yet.

But the soft brush of their shoulders, the moments that felt too comfortable to ignore, told her that maybe, just maybe, Katsuki wasn’t as immune to this feeling as he liked to pretend.

*****

Katsuki lay in his bed, the covers tangled around his legs as he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts running wild. It had been one of those days—intense training, the pressure of being the best, and the constant fight to prove he was superior. But that wasn’t what kept him awake now.

It was Kaia.

His childhood friend. His partner in countless battles. The girl who had always been there, but now... things felt different.

He couldn’t quite place it, but there was a shift. The way she moved, the way her smile lingered just a little longer, the way her eyes softened when they spoke. It wasn’t like before. Before, they had been thick as thieves, comfortable and competitive in equal measure. But now? It was like there was something unsaid hanging between them.

Katsuki grunted, throwing an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the noise in his head. He wasn’t one to get distracted, especially by something like this. He didn’t do feelings, especially not now. He was focused on his goal—becoming the strongest hero. Everything else was secondary.

But... Kaia had always been different. She’d always been someone who knew how to get under his skin without even trying, someone who saw right through his tough exterior. And lately, he couldn’t stop noticing the way she’d smile at him, the little looks she’d give when they spent time together. It was confusing.

His fingers clenched into fists by his sides, the frustration building. Tch. Stupid, stubborn girl. She’d always had a way of getting under his skin, but this felt... different. Her presence lingered in a way it hadn’t before. Even when she wasn’t around, he couldn’t shake the thought of her—the way her laughter would echo in his mind, the way her quirks made her stand out. Her strength. Her kindness. The way she’d been there for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

And yet, he didn’t know how to deal with it.

A loud sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over, staring at his phone in the dark. The screen was still lit from when he'd checked his messages earlier. No new ones, just the usual spam. He wasn’t expecting Kaia to text him, but the fact that she hadn’t been in touch... he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Not that he cared, obviously.

But what if she was feeling the same way? What if she noticed the shift too? And what would that mean for their friendship? They’d always been close, but now... now he wasn’t sure.

Katsuki cursed under his breath and slammed his fist into the mattress. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about this. He was supposed to be focused on training, on being the best. Kaia’s not some kind of distraction, he reminded himself, trying to shake the thoughts away. She’s just...

Just what?

He didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that every time they hung out, even in the simplest moments—like when they had ice cream together or trained side by side—he felt something different. Something he couldn’t quite define.

And it bothered him.

But Katsuki wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. He’d figure it out. Eventually. Maybe not tonight, but soon. He had too much pride to just let something like this go unanswered.

Still, as he finally closed his eyes, sleep didn’t come easy. His mind kept replaying her smile, the way her shoulder brushed against his as they walked home together, the way her voice sounded when she called him out on his stubbornness. It was all too much, and yet, not enough.

Tomorrow would be another day, another chance to figure things out. But tonight, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had already changed, whether he was ready for it or not.

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Chapter Text

The pressure around U.A. was thick enough to cut through as final exams loomed just around the corner. Written tests, practical combat — the whole package. The classrooms were buzzing with tension as students flipped through notes, scribbled down formulas, and whispered about possible test scenarios.

Wanting to make sure everyone had a real shot at passing, Momo Yaoyorozu graciously offered to host a study party at her family’s mansion over the weekend. As always, her home was massive and elegant, the kind of place that made most of Class 1-A feel a little out of place at first — but the open, welcoming vibe Momo brought softened the edges. She had snacks laid out, drinks, textbooks, and even a few homemade practice quizzes, organized by subject.

Kaia, along with the rest of the girls, settled into a cozy corner with their notes, while the boys spread out across the room — some focusing hard, others not so much. Kaminari and Mineta, as expected, were already trying to distract people with dumb jokes. But Momo kept them mostly in line, her sharp focus helping ground everyone.

A little later that day, during a break, Class 1-B’s Itsuka Kendo happened to swing by with a few friendly faces from her class, catching sight of Izuku and his circle huddled over their notebooks. She approached, giving a polite wave before leaning in with a knowing smirk.

“Hey, just so you guys aren’t caught off guard — rumour has it the practical exam’s gonna be against robot enemies, like the entrance exam was,” she said casually, crossing her arms. “Word’s floating around that they’re going all out this year, too.”

The group exchanged glances, a mix of nerves and determination flashing across their faces.

“That makes sense,” Izuku muttered, tapping his pen against his notes. “They’ll probably want to test how far we’ve come since the entrance exam. I bet the robots will be more advanced, too.”

Kirishima let out a sharp laugh. “Heh, good! I was getting tired of fighting each other all the time. Smashing some scrap metal sounds more like my speed.”

Kaia nodded, though her mind already started running through possible strategies. The robots weren’t going to be like the ones they faced months ago — U.A. would never make it that easy. Her control over earth and metal gave her an edge, sure, but she knew she’d have to rely on more than just raw strength this time.

Bakugo, who’d been lounging back on the couch with his arms crossed, cracked one eye open. “Doesn’t matter what they throw at us. I’ll blow it to hell either way.”

His confidence was the same as ever, but Kaia couldn’t help noticing that little flicker of excitement behind his eyes. The idea of a real fight — even against machines — always lit a fire in him.

The rest of the evening continued with everyone trying their best to balance studying and stress, but the looming challenge of the practical exam buzzed in the back of everyone’s minds. And for Kaia, it wasn’t just about passing. It was about proving how far she’d come — to herself, her classmates, and especially to two boys who meant more to her than they probably realized.

She was ready. Or at least, she would be.

*****

The following week flew by in a blur of pencil scratches, eraser shavings, and exhausted sighs — but finally, the written tests were done. When the last bell rang, a collective wave of relief swept through Class 1-A. Shoulders loosened, heads lifted, and the usual chatter picked up again, full of plans for naps, games, and post-test snacks.

But even with the written stress out of the way, there was still one final hurdle: the practical exam.

While most of the class scattered off to relax or recharge, Kaia headed to the U.A. training gym — her bag slung over one shoulder, water bottle in hand, and her mind already switching into combat mode. When she arrived, she wasn’t surprised to see Kirishima already there, stretching out his arms and cracking his knuckles with that usual sharp-toothed grin.

“Yo, Kaia!” he called out, tossing her a wave as she entered. “Figured I’d see you here. No way you’d slack off before the practical.”

Kaia chuckled lightly, setting her bag down near the wall. “You know me too well. I want to be ready for anything, especially if the rumours about robots are true.”

“Right?” Kirishima said, dropping into a low squat to start his warm-ups. “I don’t care if it’s bots, villains, or each other — I wanna be hard as a rock for this test, no regrets.”

Kaia smirked at his choice of words, shaking her head as she adjusted her gloves. “That’s the spirit.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm as they trained — working through defensive drills, endurance circuits, and a few mock sparring matches. Kirishima’s hardening quirk gave him the edge in brute force, but Kaia’s precise control over earth and metal allowed her to push back in clever, calculated ways.

Between water breaks, they exchanged strategies, laughed at each other’s missteps, and cheered each other on through the tougher sets. The mood wasn’t tense like a regular school day — it was more like two friends sharpening each other’s edges.

“Hey,” Kirishima said as he wiped sweat from his brow, “you’ve been killing it lately, y’know. I bet even the teachers are impressed. Whatever this test throws at us — you’ve got it.”

Kaia offered him a small but genuine smile. “Thanks, Eijirou. I’m trying. Guess I just wanna prove to myself I can handle whatever’s next.”

As the two of them stepped out of the gym, the late afternoon breeze cooling the heat still clinging to their skin, Kirishima stretched his arms behind his head with a satisfied groan. The steady rhythm of their footsteps echoed in the quiet, both relaxed after a solid training session.

But after a moment of easy silence, Kirishima glanced sideways at Kaia, his sharp eyes flicking between her and the sidewalk ahead.

“…Hey, can I ask you something?” he said casually, though there was a knowing lilt to his voice.

Kaia raised a brow, glancing over. “Sure. What’s up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s about Bakugo.”

Her step faltered — just slightly — but she recovered quickly, schooling her expression, though her heart gave the smallest, traitorous skip. “…What about him?”

Kirishima caught the pause, and his grin widened, just a little. “Y’know, I might not act like it, but I notice things. You two’ve been hanging out more lately.” He gave her a light nudge with his elbow. “You’ve always been friends, but... the vibe’s different. Feels like something’s changed.”

Kaia looked ahead, chewing on her answer for a moment. She wasn’t used to being on the other end of questions like this — especially from Kirishima, who usually let people be. But the honesty in his tone, the absence of any teasing, made it easy to reply.

“…I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Maybe it has. We’ve known each other for a long time, but lately… it feels like we’ve both changed. We talk more. The sharp edges aren’t so sharp when it’s just the two of us.”

Kirishima hummed thoughtfully, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not the type to let people in easy. But with you? It’s like he actually lets his guard down. That says a lot.”

Kaia’s lips quirked into a soft smile, one she couldn’t quite stop. “I guess we’re both just figuring things out.”

Kirishima shot her a playful side-eye. “Well, for what it’s worth — I think you’re good for him. Brings out a side most people don’t get to see.”

Kaia nudged him back with her shoulder, chuckling under her breath. “Thanks. You always know when to say something without making it weird.”

“Hey, what’re friends for?” he grinned. “Just don’t be surprised if the rest of the class starts picking up on it too.”

As they walked the rest of the way, the air felt lighter. Kirishima didn’t press the topic, and Kaia didn’t need to say more. But the thought lingered in her mind — of sharp eyes, soft glances, and the unspoken question hanging in the space between her and Bakugo.

*****

The morning sun hung high over U.A., the sky cloudless and bright as Class 1-A suited up in their hero costumes, the air around them buzzing with quiet tension and excitement. Final exam week had been a brutal stretch — long nights of studying, early mornings of training — and now the real test was finally here: the practical exam.

Once everyone was geared up, the class made their way toward the large observation deck positioned at the center of the sprawling training grounds. The view stretched wide across the facility, giving a perfect vantage point of the open battle zones waiting for them below.

Mr. Aizawa stood at the front of the deck, his usual slouch and scarf-tucked demeanor on full display. But there was something different in his expression today — the tiniest curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth. That subtle glint of mischief was enough to make even the more confident students shift in place, exchanging cautious glances.

Once the last pair of boots hit the deck, Aizawa cleared his throat.

“So, I’m sure you’ve all been expecting the usual,” he started, voice even and dry. “Fighting against mindless robots like last year’s class did.”

A few students nodded — Kendo had let the secret slip days ago, and most of them had been training under the assumption they’d be up against the same mechanical enemies.

Aizawa’s mouth twitched upward, sharp and unamused. “Well, forget it.”

That snapped everyone’s focus in an instant.

“This year, you’re not fighting robots,” he continued. “The staff thought it’d be more educational if you faced a real challenge.”

He gestured toward the training grounds below, where several teachers were already waiting in their hero gear — Power Loader, Present Mic, Midnight, Cementoss, even All Might himself standing tall near one of the arenas.

“You’ll be paired off in predetermined teams and tasked with defeating or evading one of your teachers. You can win by capturing them, rendering them unable to fight, or by escaping the combat zone before the timer runs out. If neither happens… you fail.”

A stunned silence rippled through the class. The weight of the challenge had landed square on their shoulders. No more targeting weak spots in AI patterns — now it was about outthinking, outlasting, or outright overpowering the very pros who trained them.

Aizawa scanned the room, eyes sharp but not unkind.

“This is about real-world thinking. Heroes don’t get to pick their battles or their odds. Adapt. Cooperate. Or lose.”

He held up a clipboard.

“Team pairings and assigned teachers will be announced shortly. Get your heads straight.”

The class, still stunned, began to murmur among themselves, hearts pounding with anticipation. Kaia stood at the edge of the deck, her gaze trailing down to the fields below. She could already feel the adrenaline starting to rise.

This wasn’t just another school exercise. This was their first real taste of what it meant to be a pro.

The large screen flickered to life, drawing everyone's attention as the pairings for the practical exam lit up one by one, the weight of each matchup settling over the class.

Kirishima & Sato vs. Cementoss
Kirishima cracked his knuckles, exchanging a pumped-up grin with Sato, both ready to flex their brute strength against Cementoss's stone manipulation.

Tokoyami & Asui vs. Ectoplasm
Tokoyami folded his arms, Dark Shadow shifting restlessly around him, while Asui gave a steady nod. Against Ectoplasm’s relentless clones, they’d need sharp instincts and perfect teamwork.

Ida& Ojiro vs. Power Loader
Ida’s posture snapped even straighter, determination radiating off him as Mashiro adjusted her gloves, already running strategies through her head. Facing Power Loader meant raw speed versus tunnelling unpredictability.

Todoroki, Yaoyorozu & Mikage vs. Mr. Aizawa
When the names appeared, a soft wave of surprise rippled through the students. Aizawa’s voice followed, steady but carrying a faint, sharp edge.

“These three were accepted into U.A. through recommendations,” he pointed out, glancing lazily at the trio. “Three of the five students across Class 1A and 1B who came in with that honour. I’m curious to see how you’ll handle the real deal against me.”

Todoroki remained quiet, eyes sharp and unreadable. Yaoyorozu pressed her fingers to her chin, thoughtful but composed. Mikage, hands resting casually in her pockets, tilted her head slightly, her cool expression never wavering.

It was clear — this wasn’t just another test for them. Aizawa wanted to push their instincts and judgment, recommendation status or not.

Uraraka & Aoyama vs. Thirteen
Ochaco’s cheeks puffed slightly, her nerves showing, while Aoyama struck a dramatic pose, hand over his chest. They’d need more than charm to face Thirteen’s black hole quirk.

Kaminari & Ashido vs. Principal Nezu
Kaminari paled slightly at the sight of Nezu’s name, while Ashido elbowed him playfully but with an edge of warning. The principal wasn’t just some cute rodent — this was a battle of brains.

Koda & Jirou vs. Present Mic
Jirou adjusted her earpieces, the thought of facing Present Mic’s sound waves already giving her a headache, while Koda fidgeted anxiously. But she offered him a quick thumbs-up, steady and reassuring.

Shoji & Hagakure vs. Snipe
A match tailor-made for stealth. Shoji’s serious gaze met the empty air where Hagakure stood. Her bright voice chimed in, “This is gonna be fun!” even though her nerves showed at the edges.

Sero & Mineta vs. Midnight
Mineta practically melted into a daydream on the spot while Sero groaned, already sensing how disastrous this was going to be if his partner didn’t focus.

Bakugo & Midoriya vs. All Might
The room fell silent. All Might. Bakugo and Midoriya. No robots, no simulations — just them against the Symbol of Peace himself.

Bakugo’s jaw ticked as he glared at the screen, hands shoved deep into his pockets, while Midoriya’s throat went dry, the weight of the challenge slamming into his chest. Kaia stood nearby, heart twisting. She believed in both of them — maybe even more than they believed in themselves — but this fight would be a mountain.

Aizawa’s voice snapped the moment back to the present.
“You know the rules — pass by either escaping or defeating your opponent before time runs out.”

While the first pair headed out to their assigned grounds, the rest of Class 1A — along with a few of the pro heroes — gathered in the observation deck. The room buzzed with quiet anticipation, everyone’s eyes fixed on the monitors displaying the unfolding matches.

The first pair to step up: Kirishima and Sato versus Cementoss.

The match kicked off almost immediately, both boys charging forward with their straightforward and fearless strategy. Kirishima hardened his skin to its limit, while Sato activated his Sugar Rush, powering through with brute strength. Together, they were a wall of raw power and determination.

But from the observation deck, Izuku leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the fight.

“They’re trying to power through,” he muttered under his breath, “but Cementoss... he doesn’t have a time limit for his quirk like they do. He can create as many walls as he needs to, and just keep them boxed in.”

Sure enough, Cementoss remained calm and methodical, summoning wall after wall of reinforced cement, tightening the space around them, forcing Kirishima and Sato into a corner. No matter how hard they hit, another wall was already forming before the last one could fully crack.

Their strength and endurance were impressive, but this wasn’t a match of force — it was a match of tactics. And against an experienced pro like Cementoss, sheer power wasn’t enough.

Eventually, both boys were completely walled in, trapped with no route for escape. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of their test.

From the deck, Kaia exhaled quietly, feeling the sting of disappointment for her friends, but also knowing this was part of the growing pains of being a hero. Kirishima and Sato reappeared on the monitors, both panting but holding their heads high despite the loss.

“Not bad for the first try,” Aizawa’s voice cut through the silence, calm but edged with meaning. “But being a hero isn’t just about how hard you can hit.”

The lesson landed hard, and the rest of the class stood a little straighter, knowing their own tests were just around the corner. The practical exam was only getting started.

After the first match wrapped up, the next few teams took the stage — and the tide began to turn.

Tokoyami and Asui were the next to face their challenge against Ectoplasm. The pro hero wasted no time overwhelming them with his clones, but the duo stayed sharp. Using Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow for defence and Tsuyu’s agility and strategy, they managed to outmanoeuvre the real Ectoplasm and — in a perfectly timed move — slipped the capture cuffs around his wrists. Their teamwork and clever thinking earned them a well-deserved pass.

Next up, Ida and Ojiro faced Power Loader in the industrial-style zone. Knowing brute force wouldn’t give them the edge, the two focused on speed and coordination. With Ojiro’s precise reflexes and Ida’s blinding engine bursts, they managed to break through the traps and blockades and sprint toward the exit. The buzzer sounded as they crossed the boundary, their passing confirmed.

Back in the observation deck, Kaia could feel the tension shift. The early nerves were settling into quiet focus as the class watched each match unfold, and now — it was their turn.

The screen flickered, flashing the names:
Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and Mikage vs. Aizawa Shouta.

Aizawa, standing calmly at the observation deck rail, glanced at them, his expression unreadable but sharp as always. “You three are among the five students accepted into U.A. on recommendation this year,” he reminded them. His voice was steady, but there was a clear edge of challenge underneath. “I expect you to prove why. Let’s see how you handle a real opponent.”

The location: the residential training arena — a mock city, complete with alleys, buildings, and tight urban corners.

Kaia adjusted her gloves and gave her suit one final check as she walked alongside Shoto and Momo toward the arena entrance. Shoto’s expression was calm and focused, while Momo wore a look of quiet determination, already running possible strategies through her head.

Kaia’s heart thudded with a mix of nerves and excitement. Aizawa wasn’t going to go easy on them — and she wouldn’t want him to.

As the gate doors opened and the countdown began, the three friends exchanged a look, silent but unified. The match was on.

The moment the signal sounded, Kaia, Todoroki, and Momo dashed into the arena, alert and calculating from the first step. They knew this wasn’t just another sparring session — this was Mr. Aizawa, a pro hero whose skills and tactics were designed to outmatch even the sharpest students.

The three split up as they’d discussed, trying to stay out of Aizawa’s line of sight. Todoroki moved first, lifting his arm to release a thick wave of ice for cover — but the second his Quirk was about to activate, his body froze, and the cold never came. His breath hitched. In the blink of an eye, Aizawa had erased his Quirk and used his capture weapon to suspend him from a nearby light pole, caltrops littered beneath his dangling feet, daring him to drop.

Kaia felt the shift before her eyes even caught up. Her earth sense picked up the tension in Todoroki’s frame and the slight hum of metal against the pole. She instinctively started to manipulate the ground, attempting to subtly lift patches of pavement to scatter the caltrops away — but a sharp snap of Aizawa’s scarf forced her to dive back into cover, her Quirk erased the moment his sharp eyes found her.

At the same time, Momo had broken into a sprint, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs like a warning bell. The escape gate loomed in the distance, but her mind buzzed with self-doubt. Memories of the Sports Festival flashed through her thoughts — the feeling of freezing up, the sting of watching Tokoyami outmanoeuvre her.

Am I just running again? Is this the right call?

But through the haze, Todoroki’s voice rang out from where he hung trapped, sharp and sure even in defeat.

“Yaoyorozu! I trust your judgment Don’t let that doubt fester in your mind! There’s a reason I voted for you to be class rep. You know what to do.”

Those words froze her mid-step. Behind her, Kaia’s voice chimed in — softer but just as steady — as Kaia finally ducked under cover, breath slightly ragged but her expression focused.

“Momo, I’ve got your back. Just tell me the plan. You’ve got this.”

Something clicked in Momo’s chest. The weight of their faith in her, the belief she’d struggled to hold for herself, suddenly felt real — unshakable.

She skidded to a halt and turned back, eyes scanning the arena. Calculating. Focused. The beginnings of a new plan formed in her head, sharper and more confident than the first.

“We can’t beat him head-on,” she said, her voice rising with certainty. “But we can outsmart him.”

She began creating specialized flash grenades from her exposed skin, her hands working with precision. Kaia, the second the devices were ready, moved into position. Timing was everything. Using her earthbending instincts and quick reflexes, she subtly shifted metal debris around the field, using pieces from old streetlights and signs to create a shield between them and Aizawa’s line of sight.

Once Momo launched the flash grenades, the bursts of light blinded Aizawa for just long enough. Kaia immediately manipulated the metal debris, wrapping it around Aizawa’s capture weapon to restrict his movement. The second Todoroki felt the erasure lift from his body, he summoned a controlled sheet of ice to bind Aizawa’s feet to the pavement and slide himself free from the restraints.

As the last layer of ice locked Aizawa in place, Kaia and Momo moved in with the cuffs, snapping them onto their teacher’s wrists just as the exam buzzer rang.

The trio stood there, panting but victorious. The adrenaline was still rushing, but the feeling of accomplishment quickly washed over them.

Todoroki stepped toward Momo, his usual calm expression softening with genuine gratitude.

“Thanks for the plan, Yaoyorozu. I wouldn’t have passed without you.”

Tears welled in Momo’s eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or failure — they were tears of pride and relief. After everything, she had finally trusted herself, and it had paid off.

Kaia joined them, resting her hands on her hips, a proud smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“That’s the power of teamwork. Looks like the recommendation students aren’t so bad after all.”

The three of them shared a quiet laugh as the tension dissolved, walking back toward the observation deck side by side. The bond between them, forged through pressure and self-doubt, had only grown stronger — not just as classmates, but as real teammates.

And watching from above, their classmates couldn’t help but smile too — knowing that when push came to shove, these three could rise to the challenge.

*****

One by one, the teams were sent out for their exams, the tension in the observation deck shifting with each new match.

Uraraka and Aoyama found themselves standing in the center of a void-like testing field, faced with the daunting task of evading Thirteen’s Quirk. The moment the signal flared, the powerful pull of the black hole began drawing in debris, air, and everything in between. The pair scrambled for cover, their hearts pounding with adrenaline.

In a moment of unexpected calm, as they crouched behind a barrier with their backs pressed flat to the concrete, Aoyama glanced sideways at Uraraka and — true to his eccentric, straightforward nature — asked the question that had been on his mind for some time.

“By the way... you like Midoriya, don’t you?”

The question caught Uraraka so off guard that her concentration wavered, her cheeks turning a deep pink. But the momentary distraction snapped her mind back into focus. With a new surge of determination (and a flushed face), Uraraka seized the moment to launch herself with her Zero Gravity, floating toward the escape gate while Aoyama used his Navel Laser to divert Thirteen’s aim. Together, their awkward moment turned into perfect timing, and they passed their exam.

Next came Kaminari and Ashido, tasked with facing the highly intelligent Principal Nezu. The pair moved fast, dodging collapsing steel beams and shifting debris as Nezu’s masterful calculations predicted their every move. Every path they thought was safe was blocked almost as soon as they set their feet down, and before long the two found themselves cornered.

Even Kaminari’s sparks and Ashido’s acid couldn’t outmatch Nezu’s overwhelming foresight. In the end, they were unable to reach the exit before time ran out, the principal’s signature cheerful but devious grin waiting to greet them when the announcement sounded. Fail.

The next match was a brutal auditory trial for Koda and Jiro against Present Mic. The air was thick with deafening soundwaves from the moment the battle began. Both students, whose Quirks were linked to sound, found themselves paralyzed by the sheer force of their teacher’s voice.

Frustrated and desperate, Jiro turned to Koda, her voice hoarse from the vibrating pressure in the air.

“Koda... you control animals, right? Insects too?”

Koda gave a silent, shaky nod.

“Then... I’m begging you — call every bug you can!”

He hesitated, but seeing the fierce determination in Jiro’s eyes pushed him forward. Summoning his courage, Koda used his Quirk to reach out across the area, and in moments, swarms of insects descended on Present Mic from every angle. The bugs crawled into his clothes and around his face, forcing him to lose focus and drop his sound barrier just long enough for the pair to sprint past him toward the exit.

Exhausted but victorious, they passed the exam.

Shoji and Hagakure stepped into the field against Snipe, the sharp-shooting pro hero whose pinpoint accuracy was nearly impossible to outmatch. Shoji, with his sharp instincts and duplicating limbs, acted as the perfect decoy — darting between cover, stretching his limbs to mislead Snipe and keep his attention. With Shoji absorbing the brunt of the gunfire, Hagakure used her invisibility to quietly sneak toward the exit, slipping past unnoticed and securing their victory.

Sero and Mineta were the next to face Midnight. The match started fast, with Midnight immediately disabling Sero using her sleep-inducing Quirk, leaving Mineta alone and seemingly panicked.

Midnight advanced, believing the last student would be easy prey. But the tiny, purple-haired boy was more cunning than he looked. As she approached the exit gate, Mineta peeled the tape off his face — revealing he’d been faking fear, using Sero’s tape to mask himself from the sleep-inducing scent. When she tried to lash out with her whip, he retaliated by deploying his Grape Rush technique, hurling an overwhelming barrage of sticky balls that locked both her and her weapon firmly to the ground.

Before Midnight could recover, Mineta scurried toward the gate and escaped, grinning through his panting breath as the passing signal blared. Midnight, stuck in place, couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“Clever little grape... I’m impressed.”

The exams were more than a test of strength — they were a test of creativity, grit, and heart. One by one, the students proved that real heroism was about more than just power.

And now, as the final match loomed, the observation deck went quiet. Bakugo and Midoriya’s turn had come.

*****

Kaia stood stiffly at the front of the observation deck, her fingers curled tightly around the railing as her eyes followed Izuku and Katsuki making their way to the exam grounds. The bright afternoon sun reflected off their hero suits, but all Kaia could focus on was the pit steadily forming in her stomach.

It wasn’t the fact they were about to fight All Might — although that alone would’ve been enough to make anyone’s hands shake. No, the real weight pressing on Kaia’s chest was knowing Katsuki. Knowing how his pride burned hotter than his Quirk ever could, how his anger sometimes eclipsed reason. She knew him too well.

Her gut told her what was coming: he wouldn’t listen. He’d charge headfirst without thinking, without working with Izuku, without trust. It wasn’t All Might she feared for — it was the chance that this fight would only widen the rift between the two boys who had been caught in this quiet, bitter struggle since childhood.

As the gates to the arena sealed behind them, Kaia swallowed hard.

Her sharp eyes lingered on Katsuki, watching his usual scowl twist into that determined, stubborn glare she’d seen a hundred times before.

“C’mon, Katsuki... don’t be stupid.”

But all she could do was stand there — watch, wait, and hope. Hope that this time, even for just a moment, he’d lower his walls long enough to trust Midoriya.

Her heart thudded in her chest as All Might’s voice echoed over the speakers.

“BEGIN!”

The match had started.

Her chest felt tight, like her ribs were closing in, the longer she watched the match unfold. She had seen Katsuki like this before — head held high, shoulders squared, jaw locked with that sharp, defiant glare. His pride burned hotter than ever, even in the face of All Might. Izuku, desperate as always, kept trying to reason with him, trying to pull him into some kind of plan, but Kaia could see it clear as day.

Katsuki wasn’t listening.

The boy she grew up with — stubborn, angry, hurt — wasn’t backing down. Kaia gripped the railing so tight her knuckles went white, leaning forward as if sheer will could reach through the glass and shake some sense into him.

“Come on, Katsuki... please.”

Her voice barely left her lips, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs as the clash finally erupted. Katsuki charged in like he always did — like a spark daring the storm to strike — and All Might, with all his overwhelming power, met him head-on.

It wasn’t even a fair fight.

The more Katsuki pushed, the more brutal the hits became. Every time he got back up, Kaia felt her stomach drop lower. Blow after blow, All Might didn’t hold back. Katsuki’s body was slowing, his arms trembling, legs unsteady, and Kaia’s throat locked up, helpless behind the glass as the boy who once stood beside her on the playground refused to bend, even if it meant breaking.

And then it happened — All Might raised his fist for the finishing blow.

Kaia’s heart sank to her stomach, hands flying to her mouth as the world seemed to slow around her.

But before All Might’s fist could come crashing down, Izuku moved — fast, precise, and desperate. His fist collided squarely with Katsuki, punching him out of the way, and without missing a beat, he caught him before he could hit the ground.

Her breath hitched, watching Izuku retreat into the shadowed alleyways of the arena, dragging Katsuki to safety, his face twisted with the weight of everything he was carrying.

Kaia’s hands shook against the glass. She wanted to cry, to scream at the both of them for being so impossibly stubborn, so reckless with their lives and each other. But more than anything, she felt that ache again — the one that came from watching the people you cared about tear each other apart, and not being able to stop it.

All she could do was stand there and wait.
Wait and pray they both made it out.

She could barely tear her eyes away from the screen, heart pounding in her chest as the feed followed Izuku and Katsuki’s every move. Katsuki was standing again — battered, bruised, but still on his feet. Kaia could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the tight clench of his fists, the anger still simmering behind his eyes. But this time... there was something else too.

The smallest nod. A silent truce.

Her chest ached at the sight of it. Stubborn as always, Katsuki had finally agreed to work with Izuku. It wasn’t perfect — the tension between them still hung in the air like static — but it was enough. Enough for them to stand side by side.

And then they went for it.

Kaia's breath caught in her throat as the two of them charged, giving everything they had left. Even with All Might’s strength diminished and weighted down, he was still overwhelming, still the immovable wall between them and the exit. Blow after blow, their bodies took the punishment — bruises darkening skin, muscles screaming, lungs straining — but neither of them backed down.

It wasn’t until Izuku pushed through the pain, fueled by Katsuki’s raw, unshakable resolve, that the tide shifted. She saw the moment his expression changed, the fear melting away into determination. His feet left the ground and he soared toward All Might, landing a desperate, powerful smash against their teacher.

Her hands pressed to the glass, barely daring to breathe as Izuku didn’t hesitate. He reached for Katsuki — even when he could’ve saved himself, even when the gate was so close — and pulled him along, racing for the escape point with everything he had left.

All Might’s voice echoed through the speakers, steady but soft:

“You could have escaped alone, young Midoriya. But that’s not who you are.”

Kaia felt her throat tighten, warmth welling behind her eyes as the announcement rang out.

They passed.

The observation deck erupted into cheers, her classmates' voices filling the room with celebration. She let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding, her body slumping forward against the railing, drained by the storm of emotions.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, relief washing over her like the tide finally pulling back after a brutal storm.

“You idiots…” she whispered under her breath, wiping her eyes quickly before anyone could see.
“You actually did it.”

*****

The sun had already begun its lazy descent by the time Class 1A returned to their homeroom, the stress of the day slowly draining from their sore bodies. Freshly showered, their UA uniforms crisp and dry once again, the usual hum of chatter was quieter than normal — exhaustion weighing heavy in the air, but also a subtle buzz of pride for making it through the grueling practical.

Kaia slid into her seat, still feeling the light ache in her muscles from her match against Aizawa. She glanced at the two empty desks near the back — Izuku and Katsuki’s seats — the absence of her childhood friends making her chest tighten just a little. She knew they were still with Recovery Girl, probably getting patched up after the beating All Might had given them.

Mr. Aizawa stood at the front, his usual tired gaze sweeping across the room, scarf lazily draped around his shoulders. But there was a flicker of something else in his expression — a sliver of satisfaction, maybe, or pride. Either way, it was rare.

He began moving down the list, giving each pair feedback in his usual blunt, no-nonsense tone.

“Kirishima, Sato — your brute force alone won’t always cut it. Heroes have to think beyond strength. You rushed in too blindly.”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, giving a sheepish nod, while Sato mumbled an apology.

“Tokoyami, Asui — solid teamwork. You used each other's strengths wisely and outmaneuvered Ectoplasm. Well done.”

Kaia watched as both Tokoyami and Tsuyu exchanged small, humble nods, their calm, collected nature never once wavering.

“Ida, Ojiro — a straightforward strategy, but effective under pressure. You recognized your limits and prioritized escape, which is sometimes the smarter choice.”

Aizawa’s gaze shifted to the next name, and Kaia straightened slightly when he reached her group.

“Todoroki. Yaoyorozu. Mikage.”

His eyes landed on them — sharp, but not unkind.

“The three of you finally understood that power and instinct aren’t enough. You communicated, adapted, and trusted each other. Mikage — you showed awareness, and you kept your head even when Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were cornered. You didn’t freeze. Good instincts.”

Kaia felt her chest warm with the rare bit of praise, catching a glance from Todoroki who gave her the smallest, approving nod. Momo offered her a gentle, grateful smile too, the tension that had clung to her for so long finally seeming to ease.

Aizawa continued down the list — offering sharp but fair critiques for each pair. When he reached the last one, his voice lowered slightly.

“Midoriya. Bakugo.”

His eyes flicked toward the empty desks before returning to the class.

“Neither of them are here to hear this, but both showed something important today. Stubbornness nearly cost them the match, but they adjusted, even under pressure. That kind of pride is dangerous... but the fact they were able to set it aside, even briefly, shows growth. Barely.”

A faint chuckle rippled through the room at his dry delivery, but Kaia couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She glanced out the window, her thoughts still lingering on Katsuki and Izuku. She was proud of them, and relieved beyond words — but part of her still ached, knowing how hard-headed both of them could be, especially Katsuki.

Even if they'd passed the test, she knew the real battle for him was still going on, deep beneath that scowl and fire.

You did it, she thought quietly, tracing her finger along her desk. But you scared me half to death, Katsuki.

The moment Mr. Aizawa dismissed the class, Kaia didn’t waste a second. Her bag hung loosely on her shoulder as she walked — fast, almost too fast — through the quiet halls of U.A., her boots clicking against the floor with purpose. The ache in her body from her own exam was long forgotten; the only thing on her mind was checking on Izuku and Katsuki.

When she reached Recovery Girl’s office, she paused at the door, quietly pushing it open just enough to slip inside.

The scene before her made her heart twist — both Izuku and Bakugo sat side by side on the clinic beds, their arms bandaged, faces bruised and swollen from their match against All Might. Midoriya wore his usual sheepish smile despite the busted lip, and Katsuki, while scowling, looked too tired to hold onto his usual rage. His eyes flicked toward the floor, avoiding everyone.

Recovery Girl stood to the side, her small frame radiating sharp disappointment as she scolded the towering, form of All Might, who shrunk under her lecture.

"Honestly, Toshinori! You pushed them far too hard — even with your limitations, you should know better than to leave students in this state!"

All Might rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, murmuring his apologies. Kaia watched him for a second, her eyes softening, but her gaze quickly shifted to the boys.

Without a word, she marched straight over, and in one swift, practiced motion — whack! — her palm chopped down on Bakugo’s head, then smack! — Midoriya's right after.

Both of them winced on impact, startled more by her sudden attack than the sting.

“Ow—! Kaia, what the hell?!” Bakugo snapped, his voice raspy and defensive, one eye squinting at her through the swelling.

Izuku flinched but gave her a sheepish, guilty glance, rubbing the back of his head where she'd struck.

Kaia stood there, arms crossed, her expression a mix of frustration and deep, unspoken relief.

“Do you two have any idea how much you scared me?” she muttered, her voice quiet but sharp enough to cut. “You’re both idiots. Stubborn, reckless idiots.”

Bakugo looked away, biting back the retort that tried to rise to his throat. Izuku lowered his head slightly, his cheeks pink with guilt.

There was a moment of silence, the weight of her words hanging in the room before Kaia let out a long, quiet breath. Her gaze softened, her arms slowly uncrossing.

“...I’m glad you’re both okay, though.”

All Might watched her, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth despite the scolding he’d just endured. Recovery Girl sighed, lowering her clipboard.

“Those two will be fine. Just need rest. But it’s good someone knocked some sense into them.”

Kaia gave a soft huff, looking back at the two boys — her childhood friends, her family, even if none of them had said the words out loud. For now, it was enough to know they were still here. Bruised, battered, but breathing.

“Next time,” she added, quieter now, “don’t make me sit there wondering if I’m gonna lose either of you.”

Neither of them argued. Bakugo just gave a small grunt, and Izuku nodded, looking up at her with a faint smile.

“We won’t.”

Kaia gave both boys one last firm look, her lips pressing into a small, satisfied smirk now that she could finally breathe again knowing they were alright.

She turned on her heel, making her way toward the door. Her voice was lighter this time, laced with that familiar teasing warmth.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she called over her shoulder, “I’ve got bragging rights to cash in. My parents are gonna eat this up.”

Just as her hand touched the doorknob, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder at the two of them — both still bandaged and sore, but alive and breathing, just like they always managed to be.

“And tell your parents I said hello, yeah?”

Izuku, despite the soreness, gave her a small, genuine smile and a nod. Bakugo gave an eye roll, but the corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to a thank you she was going to get out of him.

“Tch. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Kaia chuckled under her breath, finally pushing the door open. As it clicked shut behind her, a soft sense of calm settled in her chest. The day might’ve started with nerves and fear, but her friends — her family — were still here.

And that was more than enough.

*****

The quiet hum of the front door locking behind her was the only sound that greeted Kaia when she stepped into the house. Empty — just as she expected. Her dad was probably still neck-deep in agency work, and her mom, like clockwork, wouldn’t be back for another hour or so.

For the first time all week, the tension that had sat heavy on her shoulders began to lift. The written exams were done. The practical was done. The stress, the pacing, the late-night study sessions with half her class — all over. She could finally breathe.

Dropping her bag by the stairs, Kaia padded toward her room to change, swapping her uniform for a swimsuit. The evening sun still hung lazily in the sky, golden light spilling through the windows and washing the house in a soft, warm glow.

Without another thought, she made her way to the backyard, the air rich with that early-summer scent of cut grass and pool water. The hot tub, nestled just off the pool’s edge, was already calling her name. She slipped into the warm water, sinking deep until the heat eased the soreness from her muscles.

The quiet was a rare and welcome luxury. No All Might-level stress, no Bakugo-vs-Midoriya tension, no Aizawa speeches drilling tactics into her brain — just her, the soft bubble of the water, and the faint breeze rustling through the trees.

Kaia leaned back, letting her eyes flutter shut. The weight of the week slowly drifted off her shoulders, replaced with a small, quiet pride. Despite everything — the nerves, the worry, the pressure — she made it through.

Now all that was left was to wait for her parents to get home... and let herself enjoy this moment of peace.

The soothing warmth from the hot tub still lingered on Kaia’s skin as she moved around the kitchen, humming softly to herself. A cutting board sat in front of her, veggies neatly chopped, and a pot simmered on the stove filling the house with the comforting scent of homemade food. Her cooking skills had grown a lot — no more burnt rice or under-seasoned soup. She was proud of that.

Just as she was plating the last dish, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the house. She perked up, glancing toward the entryway. Both her parents stepped through the door together, her dad looking more relaxed than usual, his tie already loosened, and her mom’s soft smile brightening the room the moment they spotted her.

“Someone smells like they’ve been busy,” her dad teased, hanging his jacket up by the door.

Kaia grinned, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “You’re home early!” She practically bounced on her heels. “I made dinner! And — I have news.”

Her mom raised a curious brow, walking over to press a kiss to her temple before peeking at the neatly arranged plates. “Looks amazing, sweetheart. What’s the occasion?”

Kaia couldn’t hold back the excitement bubbling in her chest. “The practical exams! I passed!” Her voice was bright, eyes shining with pride. “Me, Todoroki, and Momo — we worked together and beat Mr. Aizawa. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.”

Her dad’s expression softened, and he stepped over to ruffle her damp hair gently. “That’s my girl,” he said warmly. “You’ve been working hard for this.”

Her mom’s eyes lit up with pride, pulling her into a hug. “I knew you would. You always push through.”

Kaia felt her heart swell at their reactions. After all the stress, the fear of letting them down, and the weight of trying to prove herself — finally getting to share this moment with them made it all worth it.

“Now sit down,” she said, nudging them toward the table, “You both get to relax. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

Her dad chuckled, exchanging a knowing glance with her mom as they took their seats, the house finally feeling full again — full of warmth, love, and the quiet satisfaction of a good day.

*****

Kaia lay stretched out on her bed, the soft glow of her lamp illuminating the room while the night breeze drifted lazily through her open window. The day’s excitement had finally settled, leaving her comfortably tired, but her mind lingered on her two stubborn, reckless friends.

Her phone rested in her palm, and with her thumb she fired off two short messages — the same for both of them:

Hey. Just checking in. You alright?

It didn’t take long for Izuku’s reply to light up her screen:

Izuku: I’m doing a lot better! Recovery Girl’s quirk fixed me up like clockwork. Thanks for checking, Kaia!

A small, relieved smile tugged at her lips. Typical Izuku — always polite, always reassuring, even when he was the one getting hurt.

She set her phone on the nightstand, ready to drift off when — vrrr vrrr vrrr — it buzzed against the wood.

Her gaze flicked to the screen, and just like she’d expected, Katsuki’s name flashed across it.

Kaia pressed the phone to her ear as she shifted on her bed, tucking her legs beneath her and leaning against the headboard. The second the line connected, the familiar gruffness of Katsuki’s voice greeted her.

“Tch. Took you long enough to text,” he muttered.

Kaia huffed out a soft laugh, easing the weight that had been sitting on her chest all day. “Says the guy who’s just now calling me back.”

There was a pause on his end, the faint sound of hospital sheets rustling, and his voice came through quieter this time — still sharp, but tired. “Yeah, well… didn’t feel like texting.”

Kaia leaned her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “You scared me today, Katsuki.” Her voice softened, her honesty hanging in the quiet space between them. “Both of you did.”

A beat of silence. She could practically picture him now — laying there, scowl on his face, jaw tight, probably staring at the ceiling the same way she was.

“I’m fine,” he said, and it was automatic, practiced. But Kaia knew better.

She let out a breath. “You always say that,” she murmured, her tone somewhere between fond and frustrated. “But I know when you’re stuck in your head.”

He didn’t answer right away, the silence stretching a little longer this time. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped, quieter, less defensive.

“…It ain’t your problem.”

“It is,” she said simply, her voice gentle but firm. “Because when you get stuck in your head like that, you shut everyone out. It’s not good for you — and it’s not fair to the people around you.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Especially not to Izuku.”

That earned a quiet, almost annoyed scoff from him, but the tension in his voice had dulled. Kaia continued before he could bark back.

“I’m not saying you have to fix it tonight. I know you’ll handle it when you’re ready. You always do… in your own way.” Her voice turned a little more playful. “But don’t take too long, okay? You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

She could almost hear him roll his eyes through the phone, but when he answered, the usual bite was missing.

“…I know.” His voice was low. “It’s just hard.”

Kaia smiled softly to herself, her heart swelling with that familiar ache — the kind that came with knowing someone for so long, with caring about them deeper than either of them ever dared to say out loud.

“It doesn’t have to be that hard, you know,” she whispered. “You’ve got people who care about you. You’ve got me.”

Another pause. She heard the slightest shift, his voice barely above a mumble now.

“Yeah. I know I do.”

The heaviness between them lifted a little, the quiet turning more comfortable. When he spoke again, his tone had warmed, just enough to make her heart skip.

“You makin’ dinner tonight, or did you finally burn the kitchen down?”

Kaia laughed, light and easy. “Rude. I made dinner. My parents were actually impressed.”

“No way,” he teased, and the smirk was clear in his voice now. “Bet your old man had a backup pizza ready just in case.”

She snorted, leaning deeper into the pillows. “For your information, I’ve gotten pretty good. Next time you’re over, I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I taste it,” he shot back, but there was a lightness in his voice now, the hard edges softened.

A comfortable silence settled again before she added, “You know… I’m glad you called.”

“…Yeah. Me too.”

The weight of the day lingered, but something about this moment — about the way he stayed on the line, no rush to hang up, no sharp quips left — made it feel easier. Like things would be okay, even if it would take some time.

“You should get some rest,” she said softly, but with a smile. “You’ve had a long day, Katsuki.”

“So’ve you.” He paused, and the smallest, almost shy note crept into his voice. “Sleep good, Kaia.”

She blinked, caught off guard by how gentle it sounded, but her smile grew as she whispered back, “You too, Katsuki.”

When the call finally ended, Kaia set her phone on the nightstand, her heart full in the quiet darkness of her room.

That budding feeling — the one that had been creeping in for a while now — lingered as she closed her eyes.

And for the first time all day, her world felt a little lighter.

*****

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the master bedroom. Amara sat propped up against the headboard, glasses perched on her nose, flipping through the pages of her book. Beside her, Zaire lounged comfortably, one arm tucked behind his head while his eyes stayed fixed on the muted sports game playing across the television screen.

The peaceful quiet was interrupted by the gentle buzz of Amara’s phone on the nightstand. She reached for it lazily, glancing at the screen. A text from Mitsuki.

“Just passed by Katsuki’s room. Heard a little of his convo with your girl. 😉”

Amara couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips, shaking her head fondly as she set the phone back down.

Zaire glanced over, eyebrow raised. “Something funny?”

Amara nudged her glasses up slightly, still smiling. “Mitsuki. She heard Kaia on the phone with Katsuki.”

Zaire smirked knowingly, turning back to the TV. “Figured those two would get there eventually.”

Amara leaned back against the headboard, her heart warming with quiet amusement. “She’ll come to me when she’s ready,” she said softly, the certainty clear in her voice. “I’m not rushing her.”

Zaire let out a low, content hum. “Just like her mom. Stubborn, but steady.”

Amara glanced at him over the rim of her glasses, her smile stretching a little wider. “She’s got the best parts of both of us, whether she knows it or not.”

With that, she turned back to her book, the night settling into its calm rhythm again — her heart full, knowing Kaia was growing in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

The final bell echoed through the halls of U.A., signaling the end of another long, exhausting week. In Class 1-A’s homeroom, the atmosphere was a strange mix of tension and quiet excitement. Students slumped at their desks, some already chatting about the upcoming summer, while others wore uneasy expressions — especially those who were convinced they hadn’t passed the practical portion of the final exams.

Kaia sat at her desk, chin resting on her hand as she listened to the light buzz of conversation around her. Beside her, Ashido nervously tapped her pencil against her notebook, eyes flicking toward the front of the room every few seconds. Kaminari’s face was practically buried in his desk, groaning quietly, and even Kirishima — usually all smiles — looked unsure.

The sound of the door sliding open pulled everyone's attention sharply forward. Mr. Aizawa, as always, strolled in with his usual tired expression, scarf loosely hanging around his neck. He set his capture weapon aside, glancing over the room at the expectant faces.

"You all look like you're waiting for a death sentence," he muttered flatly, rubbing his eyes.

The silence hung heavy for a moment before Aizawa straightened slightly and continued, his voice steady but clear.

"Regardless of your results in the final exams, all of you will be going to the training camp."

A beat passed, and then the room burst into cheers — relief washing over the class like a wave. Kaminari practically leaped out of his seat, and Kirishima let out a loud, “Yes!” while Ashido slumped forward, dramatically clutching her chest in relief.

Kaia’s lips tugged into a small smile, watching her classmates celebrate the good news. But Aizawa raised a hand, cutting the celebrations short.

"However," he added, tone sharp, "for those of you who failed the practical exam... you'll be attending extra classes at the end of each day during the camp."

Groans and sighs filled the room as the ones who hadn't passed realized the price they’d still have to pay.

Kaia glanced over, watching Izuku offer Katsuki an encouraging nudge that was met with a side-eye glare. Still, she noticed the tension in Katsuki's shoulders had eased just a bit. Her smile softened, relieved that despite the setbacks, the entire class would be together this summer.

As Aizawa wrapped up the announcements, the room filled with quiet chatter again — plans for the trip already forming, some students excitedly wondering about the training, others dreading the extra classes. Kaia, content, leaned back in her chair, already imagining what the training camp would bring.

*****

The quiet hum of U.A.’s staff room was broken only by the soft rustling of papers and the occasional sip of coffee. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, but neither Shota Aizawa nor Sekijiro Kan, better known as Vlad King, showed any signs of calling it a night.

Stacked across the table were files — neatly labeled with the names of their students. The folders held breakdowns of Quirks, combat performance, written exam results, and notes on their development throughout the term. It was a familiar routine for the two Pro Heroes, but this year, the stakes felt heavier.

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the latest updates on Class 1-A. His expression, sharp as ever but weighed with quiet concern, didn’t waver as he spoke.

"Their progress is undeniable," he muttered, setting down the folder marked Midoriya, "but that last villain attack... it’s made things clear. The League of Villains isn’t done. We can’t afford to be careless."

Vlad, arms crossed over his broad chest, nodded in agreement. "Same goes for 1-B. They’ve pushed themselves hard, but they’re not ready to deal with something like the League. None of them should have to be — not yet."

The room sat heavy with that truth for a moment. These kids — their students — were expected to fight like heroes, but at the end of the day, they were still children learning the ropes of a dangerous world.

Aizawa’s fingers tapped absently against the manila folder at the top of the pile — this one labeled with Kaia’s name. A sharp student. Skilled, smart, but like many of her classmates, she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. His gaze drifted to the window, moonlight glinting faintly off his tired eyes.

"The training camp’s location has been changed," he finally said, voice low and certain. "Principal Nezu made the call this afternoon. After everything that’s happened, it’s too risky to stick to the original site."

Vlad’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, trusting the judgment of both Aizawa and the principal. "Good call. If the League is watching, they won’t be able to track them as easily."

Aizawa closed the folder and stacked it neatly back with the others. "We’ll make sure they’re prepared — but we’ll make sure they’re safe, first."

The two men sat in a rare moment of silence, both fully aware that the summer ahead would be far from easy for their students. But even so, it was their responsibility to make sure that the next generation of heroes learned, grew, and came home in one piece.

And for now, that meant staying one step ahead.

*****

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, the early signs of summer heat already settling over the U.A. parking lot. Students buzzed with excitement and chatter, suitcases and duffel bags piled near the Class 1-A bus, which sat humming with its doors wide open, waiting to be loaded for the long trip to the training camp.

Off to the side, away from the crowd, Kaia stood by her family’s car, her bags neatly set on the pavement at her feet. Amara had one hand gently resting on her shoulder while Zaire — still dressed in his hero uniform from patrol, the familiar faint scuffs of his day visible on the suit — stood tall at her side, arms crossed but expression soft.

Kaia’s heart tugged painfully in her chest. As excited as she was for the training camp and all the challenges ahead, the thought of being away from them for two whole weeks left an ache she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t used to it. The long nights spent talking to her mom, or the quiet comfort of her dad’s presence after a hard day — it was all part of her rhythm, her home.

Amara noticed the faint wobble in her daughter’s smile and cupped her cheek, brushing her thumb across it in a silent reassurance.
"You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart," she said softly. "Besides, you’ll be too busy kicking ass and taking names to even notice we’re not around."

Her dad nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And you’ve got your friends. You’ve got this." His voice was steady, but there was pride threaded through it. "Two weeks’ll fly by."

Kaia sniffed, laughing lightly at herself for feeling so sentimental, and nodded. "I know. I know. I’m just not used to it, that’s all."

Her mom leaned in for a tight hug, and her dad ruffled her hair as he joined in for one last squeeze. After a moment, she stepped back, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, determined to not let her emotions spill over.

"Alright," she said, taking a deep breath. "I better go before I make this harder."

They helped her load her bags onto the bus, and as she turned back for one last glance, her dad called after her.

"Text us when you get there. And if anything happens — you call. Got it?"

Kaia gave them both a mock salute, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes, sir."

With one final smile, she climbed onto the bus, settling into her seat by the window. As the rest of her classmates finished boarding, Kaia pressed her hand to the glass, watching her parents wave her off. Even as the engine rumbled to life and the bus started rolling, she kept her gaze on them until they were out of sight.

A small ache lingered in her chest, but beneath it, excitement began to bubble. Training camp was officially underway.

The steady hum of the bus engine mixed with the cheerful buzz of conversation as Class 1-A headed off toward their summer training camp. Kaia sat comfortably near the back, pressed against the window beside Ashido. The warm sun filtered through the glass, washing the seats in soft afternoon light. The girls had been chatting nonstop — swapping snacks, talking about what the camp might be like, and laughing at Sero’s latest goofy impression from a few seats away.

But as the miles passed, the energy began to settle. Conversations softened into low murmurs, the excitement giving way to the peaceful rhythm of the road.

A soft tap on Kaia’s shoulder pulled her out of her daydreaming. She turned to find Kirishima leaning over the seat with his usual bright grin.

"Hey, Kaia," he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mind switching seats with me for a bit? I wanna talk to Mina about something before we get there."

Kaia tilted her head slightly, amused but not surprised. She gave Ashido a knowing smirk before sliding out of the seat, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. "Sure thing, Kirishima. She’s all yours."

As she stepped into the middle section of the bus, her gaze drifted to where Kirishima had been sitting. Of course — the seat was right next to Katsuki. Typical.

She slid into the open spot without a word at first, settling herself against the window once again. The air around them was noticeably quieter than the back, more relaxed. Katsuki sat with his usual scowl, arms crossed and headphones dangling from around his neck, music faintly leaking from them.

He side-eyed her when she sat down, but didn’t say anything. Kaia rested her chin on her hand, watching the scenery blur past the window for a moment before glancing over at him.

"Small world, huh?" she teased lightly.

Katsuki huffed but didn’t argue, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly — like her voice had knocked him out of his own head for a second.

The two sat there, the silence between them comfortable, the kind that only came with old friendship. And as the bus rolled on, the space between them felt a little less like coincidence and more like quiet understanding.

"You looking forward to the camp?" she asked, glancing his way.

Katsuki snorted under his breath, the usual bite missing from it. "Yeah," he muttered, his crimson gaze flicking toward her. "Tch — ‘bout time we get pushed harder. I’m not just gonna sit around while extras get stronger."

Kaia smiled slightly, understanding the fire behind those words. "Same. I’ve got a lot to sharpen, too. Been feeling like I’ve barely scratched the surface with my quirk lately." She paused, tapping her fingers against her knee. "Camp’s the perfect place to fix that."

Katsuki leaned back against the seat, arms still crossed, but his voice lowered — not harsh, but honest.
"You’ve got nothing to prove, y’know. You’re already strong."

The words hit her harder than any explosion ever could. Short, straightforward — but coming from him, it meant something. Her heart fluttered against her ribs, a soft warmth blooming in her chest before she could stop it.

She swallowed the surprise, offering a quiet reply. "Thanks, Katsuki."

Neither of them said anything else after that. The road stretched on, the soft conversations around them fading into the background. The two of them just sat there — close, at ease — lost in their own thoughts, the air between them filled with a quiet, unspoken connection.

When the bus finally rolled into the rest stop, Kaia almost didn’t notice until the engine cut off and people started shifting in their seats. Katsuki stood up first, stretching his arms overhead, and then glanced back at her.

"You comin’ or what?" he asked, that usual sharp edge back in his voice — but this time, she caught the faintest flicker of a smirk.

Kaia pushed herself up, that flutter in her chest still lingering as she grabbed her bag. "Yeah. Let’s go."

The fresh scent of pine and dirt hit her nose almost instantly, sharp and clean compared to the recycled air on the bus. She glanced around, spotting the rest of Class 1-A gathering in a loose, curious cluster.

Her gaze flicked forward just as figures approached — bright and bold, wearing colourful cat-themed hero costumes that practically announced their arrival before they even opened their mouths. Their energy was immediate and infectious, contrasting the stiff awkwardness of the class after the long ride.

“We are the Wild Wild Pussycats!” they sang in unison, striking their hero poses.

Kaia blinked at them, half-amused. Even for pro-heroes, their entrance was dramatic — though Mina was eating it up, already bouncing excitedly beside her.

Standing slightly apart from the group was a young boy, his arms crossed so tightly across his chest it looked like he was trying to fold in on himself. His sharp eyes glared at the ground rather than at the class, and Kaia immediately picked up on the thick wave of discomfort rolling off him. He looked so out of place standing next to the cheerful heroes, his scowl carved so deep it might as well have been permanent.

Before Kaia could wonder about him, Mandalay turned toward the class, hands on her hips.

“Alright, students — listen up. The training camp is at the base of this mountain. If you want to eat lunch, you’ll need to make it there by midday.”

A few heads tilted. Mina leaned over and whispered to Kaia, “That doesn’t sound too hard, right?”

Kaia was about to respond, but something in her chest twinged. The earth beneath her feet seemed to pulse — soft, rhythmic vibrations whispering through the soles of her shoes, growing stronger with each passing second. Her eyes sharpened, heart giving a small jolt. She recognized that feeling anywhere.

The ground was about to shift.

Before the others even had a chance to realize, Kaia bent her knees and sprang backward, flipping lightly through the air. Her landing was smooth, a few steps away from Mr. Aizawa, who was watching her with his usual unreadable stare.

Then it happened.

The earth caved in beneath her classmates with a deep, rumbling groan, sending them all sliding, yelping, and tumbling down the exposed steep hillside like startled birds caught in a windstorm. Dirt and loose rocks chased them on the way down, and their shouts echoed through the open air.

Kaia winced but couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her — partly from the sight, partly from pure relief that her senses had warned her in time.

Aizawa gave her the faintest quirk of an eyebrow, silently noting her quick reflex.

She offered him a light, almost apologetic smile as her heart slowed from the earlier jolt. “Sorry, sensei,” she murmured, brushing her hands against her thighs like it was all routine. “I’ll go catch up.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kaia wandered over to the ledge. The slope stretched far down below, her classmates still shouting and groaning as they tried to regain their footing in the chaos. The Wild Wild Pussycats were casually observing the scene as if it were completely normal.

Kaia glanced down once and exhaled through her nose.

And then, in one smooth, practiced motion, she stepped off the ledge — letting gravity and instinct guide her as she slid down the steep hill, weaving between rocks and branches with ease.

Her heart raced with excitement, but the grin that spread across her face was purely hers.

Kaia’s body cut through the air smoothly, the wind rushing past her ears as she twisted her weight to control her fall. The dense forest blurred beneath her, but her sharp eyes were already locked on the clearing at the bottom of the hill — a scattered cluster of her classmates, groaning and brushing dirt off their uniforms, some still untangling themselves from the rough tumble.

She bent her knees just before landing, the impact soft beneath her feet as her body absorbed the shock. A small cloud of dust kicked up around her boots as she straightened and jogged the last few steps toward the group.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked, glancing around quickly.

A mix of thumbs-ups and half-hearted groans answered her. Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck, still catching his breath, while Mina dramatically wiped fake tears from her eyes.

“That was so not the kind of welcome I was expecting,” Kaminari huffed, slumping against a nearby rock.

Kaia let out a small laugh — but before she could relax, her chest tightened. That familiar vibration returned, more subtle this time but persistent, crawling up from the soles of her feet. Her senses sharpened, heart skipping a beat as her head turned toward the dense treeline surrounding them.

The earth was moving again — but this wasn’t a landslide.

From the thickest parts of the forest, the ground pulsed and shifted unnaturally. Massive shapes began to rise from the soil, hulking forms taking shape as dirt and rock twisted and merged into towering earthen beasts. Their limbs were crude but powerful, stone jaws grinding as they turned to face the students.

Kaia took a cautious step back, eyes narrowing as Pixie-Bob’s voice echoed from somewhere unseen.

“If you want to make it to camp — you’ll have to fight your way through!”

The playful tone in her voice only made the situation more daunting. Kaia’s gaze flicked across her classmates as the realization sank in: this wasn’t just a hike anymore. This was their first trial.

“Figures they wouldn’t make it easy,” she muttered under her breath, fists clenching at her sides.

One of the beasts lunged forward, causing the earth to tremble under its weight. Kaia slid into a defensive stance, ready for the first clash.

She could feel the excitement sparking in her chest, even through the nerves — this was exactly the kind of challenge she’d been hoping for.

Training camp begins now.

*****

By the time the last of the earth beasts crumbled back into dirt and stone, Kaia wiped her brow, the sweat clinging to her skin sticky from the long hours of non-stop fighting and trekking. Joints locked up from the action. The sky had softened into hues of deep orange and lavender, the sun dipping low behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the battered forest path.

She glanced over at her classmates as they emerged from the last stretch of woods, every single one of them scratched up, mud-streaked, and absolutely exhausted. Izuku limped slightly, Kirishima’s shirt was half-shredded, and even Bakugo, usually the picture of stubborn defiance, looked like he could drop on the spot.

When they finally stumbled into the open grounds of the training camp, the scent of food wafted through the air, but instead of the stern scolding they expected, the Wild Wild Pussycats greeted them with wide smiles and lighthearted waves.

“Wow, you kids really took your time,” Pixie-Bob teased, hands on her hips, though her tone lacked any real bite. “You missed the deadline by, oh—hours.”

Mandalay, more composed, adjusted her hat and nodded. “We didn’t think the course would keep you out this long. You all must be exhausted.”

Kaia let out a soft chuckle, her shoulders relaxing at last as she walked toward the others, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ashido and Uraraka. The fatigue was heavy in her limbs, but there was a small swell of pride too. Even though they’d missed the time goal, they’d all made it, no one left behind.

Pixie-Bob clapped her hands together cheerfully. “But hey! Training’s only just beginning — for now, you’ve earned this.” She motioned toward the large outdoor kitchen setup, where warm plates were being laid out.

“Dinner’s on us tonight,” Mandalay added with a kind smile. “We want you all fueled up for what’s coming next.”

A collective groan of relief and gratitude swept through Class 1-A. Kaia stretched her arms overhead, stomach growling, then glanced sideways at Katsuki, who stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, glaring at the ground.

Despite the usual scowl on his face, Kaia could tell — even he was too tired to argue with free food. With a small smile, she turned toward the dining area, letting her mind finally slow down, knowing that for tonight at least, the real work could wait.

After dinner, the exhaustion from the day's battle against the earth beasts had settled deep into everyone's muscles, but the promise of a relaxing soak in the hot springs gave Class 1-A the second wind they desperately needed. The cool mountain air had set in, and the steaming baths looked like absolute heaven.

Kaia wandered into the girls' changing room with the others, the sound of quiet chatter and the clatter of lockers filling the room as they all shed their sweat-stained uniforms and slipped into the warm embrace of the natural hot spring.

Leaning back against the smooth stones, Kaia let out a sigh, feeling her sore muscles finally start to relax. The air was filled with laughter, the girls teasing one another about how wild the day had been — the fight with the earth beasts, the scramble to work together, and how filthy they’d all looked dragging themselves to the campgrounds.

But the peaceful moment didn’t last long.

From the other side of the fence that separated the boys’ and girls’ baths, Kaia’s senses prickled, and she heard the softest shuffle of footsteps, paired with whispered muttering. Instinctively, she narrowed her eyes and turned toward the sound, recognizing Mineta’s voice. Of course.

Just as she moved to sit up, a sharp thud echoed across the baths, followed by a loud splash and a stunned yelp from the other side.

Kota, the small boy who had been so distant and cold earlier, had delivered a solid kick to Mineta's face, sending the grape-headed boy tumbling backward before he could so much as peek over the wall. But in his effort, poor Kota lost his footing and stumbled right into view of the girls.

Kaia blinked as the kid’s wide eyes locked with theirs, his face flushing a deep red before his legs gave out, and he fainted on the spot, falling backward toward the rocks.

Before Kaia could even move, a splash came from the boys' side as Izuku vaulted over the divider in a blur, catching Kota mid-fall before he hit the stone. The boy stirred slightly in Izuku’s arms, still red-faced and dazed.

Kaia shook her head, her lips tugging into a soft, amused smile as Izuku carefully carried Kota away from the edge, gently scolding Mineta for his usual antics once everything settled.

"Well, that was dramatic," Kaia mumbled under her breath, exchanging a knowing glance with Ashido, who was stifling a laugh.

As the girls returned to their peaceful soak, the stars were just beginning to scatter across the night sky, the crisp mountain air and the heat from the spring easing away the last bit of tension from the long day. Even with the chaos, it was moments like these Kaia cherished — surrounded by friends, laughter, and small bits of calm before the next challenge came knocking.

*****

After the hot springs, skin still warm and cheeks slightly flushed from the soak, Kaia and the rest of the girls shuffled back to their shared sleeping quarters — a wide, cozy room filled with futons, soft lighting, and the faint scent of fresh linen. Their damp hair was tucked into towels or left to dry, and the sound of bare feet against the wooden floors mixed with soft giggles as they stepped inside.

The girls from Class 1-B were already scattered around the room, some lounging on their futons, others chatting quietly or brushing through their hair. Despite the usual rivalry between the classes, the air was surprisingly light, the exhaustion from the day's brutal trek through the forest making everyone too tired to keep up any tension.

Kaia placed her bag down near Ashido and Uraraka’s spots, smoothing out her futon before settling down on it, letting out a soft sigh as the comfort of the bedding sank in. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the satisfying pull in her shoulders and back.

"Man," Ashido flopped down dramatically next to her, "I don't think my legs have ever been this sore. My quirk training better make me into a goddess at this rate."

Kaia chuckled softly, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. "I think we all earned a solid night's sleep after that. And the Pussycats weren't kidding about this place being tough."

Jirou, seated nearby, was adjusting her earphone jacks and nodded. "Tomorrow’s probably going to be even worse. Knowing Aizawa, he'll make sure of it."

Kaia hummed in agreement, her mind flicking back to the moment her senses flared in the forest, warning her of the earth shifting beneath their feet. She could still feel the echo of it lingering in her muscles. Even with all the exhaustion, there was something satisfying about pushing herself this hard — and knowing her friends were right there, doing the same.

As the room dimmed, soft conversations still floated between the girls of both classes, but the energy was calmer, more peaceful. Kaia tucked herself under her blanket, glancing at the faint glow of her phone screen one last time to check if any new messages had come through.

Her heart felt light, surrounded by friends, and with the comfort of knowing she had more days ahead to grow stronger. With a final, quiet yawn, her eyes fluttered closed, letting the exhaustion of the day pull her into a deep, well-earned sleep.

Chapter Text

Bright and early — far too early for any of their liking — Class 1-A and 1-B were lined up outside, groggy and yawning, the morning air crisp against their skin as the sun barely peeked over the treetops. The peaceful, dewy forest around them stood in complete contrast to the grueling training their teachers had in store.

The Pussycats and Aizawa wasted no time splitting the classes up, assigning each student to specific, targeted exercises meant to push their quirks and bodies to new limits. The sound of grunts, impacts, and explosions echoed throughout the training grounds, each corner of the area alive with determined effort.

Sero was perched on the jagged edge of a cliff, arms already sore as he shot tape after tape, testing both the distance and the durability of his quirk — the objective being endurance, control, and precision. The wind wasn't making it easy, but that was the point.

A little ways away, Bakugo stood over a sturdy metal tub, steam rising in thick clouds as he repeatedly plunged his hands into near-boiling water, teeth clenched but eyes sharp. The heat forced his palms to expand their sweat glands, pumping out nitroglycerin-rich sweat faster and more abundantly — the more he could handle, the stronger and more explosive his quirk would become. His determination, as always, burned hotter than the water itself.

And not far from them, Kaia stood barefoot in a wide, circular sandbox, the soft, shifting grains warm from the morning sun. A blindfold secured snugly over her eyes, she kept her breathing slow and even. Pixie-Bob crouched just outside the circle, watching closely, her hands buried in the sand as she manipulated the terrain beneath Kaia’s feet.

“Your seismic sense is sharp, kiddo,” Pixie-Bob’s voice came warm but teasing, “but the real world isn’t always steady. Sand, mud, debris — they all shift under pressure. You’ve gotta learn to feel the difference. Predict the flow. Trust your instincts.”

Kaia’s brows knitted beneath the blindfold as the earth below her shifted unpredictably, her feet adjusting, toes digging in for balance. Unlike solid ground, the unstable surface dulled her usual precision, forcing her to tune into the more subtle vibrations and disturbances rippling through the sand.

Pixie-Bob kept the terrain alive beneath her, sending waves and pits and small ridges rolling under Kaia’s feet. She nearly stumbled once but caught herself, digging her heels into the shifting grains, her senses stretching wider — focusing not just on the impact of movement, but the air and weight that followed.

With every tremor, her confidence grew. It wasn’t perfect, but little by little, the dull edges of uncertainty were sharpening into new awareness.

She could feel her heartbeat syncing with the earth, and even with the blindfold, a faint, determined smile curled her lips.

Pixie-Bob stood up, hands dusting off the sand. “Not bad! Not bad at all. Keep this up, and unstable terrain won’t catch you off guard. The ground may move — but you’ll always stay standing.”

Kaia nodded, lifting the blindfold just enough to wipe away a bead of sweat before slipping it back into place. She wasn’t just training for herself. She was training for her friends, for the battles ahead, for the future.

And no matter how loose the ground was, she intended to stand firm.

*****

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the training grounds in a warm, golden hue as the first full day of brutal quirk training finally neared its end. Muscles ached, uniforms were soaked with sweat, and yet — there was one final challenge awaiting them.

The students of Class 1-A and Class 1-B gathered in the dirt clearing, forming two lines that faced one another. Some were stretching, some bouncing on their heels, others too exhausted to do more than stand upright. Their instructors stood off to the side — Aizawa with his usual stoic indifference, and Vlad King, whose booming voice cut across the field.

“Alright!” Vlad announced, folding his arms as he addressed the students. “Quirks are great. Quirks make heroes strong. But quirks can be taken away, neutralized, or blocked — just like fighting against Eraserhead here.” He nodded toward Aizawa, who gave no reaction, only silently pushing his capture weapon up his sleeves.

“Today’s final test — hand-to-hand combat. No quirks. No gear. Just you, your technique, and your instincts.”

The two classes murmured among themselves, some clearly pumped while others looked more uncertain. Vlad King raised a clipboard.

“Ten of you from each class will fight today. One of my students will step in for a second round to balance the numbers since Class A has an extra fighter. The rest of you will go tomorrow.”

He began calling names off one by one, pairing fighters and giving the crowd plenty to whisper about:

“First match — Ida Tenya versus Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu!”

A loud “YEAH!” burst from Tetsutetsu, fists clenched with excitement, while Ida adjusted his glasses and nodded sharply.

“Second match — Yaoyorozu Momo versus Kendo Itsuka!”

The two girls exchanged polite nods, both clearly treating it as a battle of strategy rather than brute force.

“Third match — Ashido Mina versus Shiozaki Ibara!”

Mina stretched out her shoulders, giving her usual energetic grin, while Shiozaki bowed her head, calm and composed.

“Fourth match— Sero Hanta versus Monoma Neito.”

Sero smirked lazily while Monoma flipped his hair dramatically, ready to stir trouble even without his quirk.

“Fifth match — Bakugo Katsuki versus Awase Yosetsu!”

Bakugo cracked his neck, sharp red eyes narrowing — even without his quirk, the fight would be explosive.

“Sixth match — Todoroki Shoto versus Tsuburaba Kosei!”

Shoto simply blinked, giving the other boy a slight nod, while Tsuburaba rolled his neck, already shifting into his combat mindset.

“Seventh match — Jiro Kyoka versus Kodai Tatami.”

Jiro adjusted her earlobes and squared her stance, while Tatami calmly awaited her turn.

“Eighth — Kaminari Denki versus Yanagi Reiko.”

Kaminari scratched the back of his head, flashing a nervous grin. “Guess I better use more than my looks this time, huh?”

“Ninth match — Uraraka Ochaco versus Kuroiro Shihai.”

Uraraka clenched her fists at her sides, determined and a little fired up, while Kuroiro looked eerily calm, almost like he was already blending into the shadows even without his quirk.

“And going last…” Vlad King paused, glancing at the last two students for the day, “Mikage Kaia versus Kamakiri Togaru.”

Kaia, who’d been stretching the soreness from her training session with Pixie-Bob, looked up as her name was called. She glanced across the line, locking eyes with Togaru — the sharp-eyed, sharp-tempered Class 1-B student with blade-like arms and a natural scrapper’s attitude.

Even without quirks, his reputation for going at it like a wild animal was well known. Kaia exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders loose.

Vlad clapped once. “Matches will run one after the other. You win by pin, tap out, or knockout. No quirks — break that rule, and you forfeit. Get ready.”

The students began dispersing to prepare, some psyching themselves up, others simply stretching or shaking out nerves.

Kaia tugged her gloves off, tightening her ponytail and glancing at her hands, flexing her fingers. She wasn’t worried about the sand, the earth, or even her quirk this time.

Hand-to-hand was personal. Raw.

And for once, she felt ready for it.

Across the way, Katsuki caught her eye for a moment, offering nothing more than a small grunt and the faintest raise of an eyebrow — his version of “don’t hold back.”

She smirked slightly, giving him the same look right back.

This was going to be fun.

*****

The first match kicked off with energy so thick you could practically feel the static crackle in the air.

Ida and Tetsutetsu stepped into the dirt ring, both bowing briefly out of respect before locking eyes. Aizawa raised a hand, giving the signal.

“Begin.”

Ida was quick off the mark — as expected, even without his engines, his natural athleticism made him a blur as he closed the distance between them. He aimed for speed, darting low for a sweep of Tetsutetsu’s legs, trying to use leverage over raw strength.

But Tetsutetsu’s iron-clad body might’ve been dormant without his quirk, yet his grit wasn’t. He planted his feet, absorbing the force, and countered with a powerful shoulder shove that nearly knocked Ida back.

The back and forth kept the entire class locked in, both Class A and B gathering around to watch. Ida’s strikes were sharp, practiced — the product of someone who trained in form and discipline. Tetsutetsu, on the other hand, was sheer force, wild and reactive, but precise in his own rough-edged way.

He landed a clean elbow to Tetsutetsu’s ribs, and for a moment it looked like he might edge the fight, trying to lock him into a submission hold. But Tetsutetsu braced, gritting his teeth through the pain, and used his strength to hoist Ida off balance.

With one final heave, he flipped Ida over and pinned him hard against the mat, locking his arms across Ida’s shoulders.

Aizawa called it.

“Winner: Tetsutetsu.”

The clearing filled with cheers from Class 1-B, but even Class 1-A couldn’t help but clap for the effort both boys had put in. Ida sat up, pushing his glasses back into place, and extended his hand to Tetsutetsu.

“Well fought.”

Tetsutetsu grinned, wiping sweat from his brow as he accepted the handshake. “You too, man — fast as hell even without your engines.”

As they walked off the field side by side, the next two fighters — Yaoyorozu and Kendo — stepped forward.

Both girls stood in the ring, the sunset casting a sharp golden glow across the field. Their classmates quieted down, curious to see how this would play out without the help of quirks.

“Begin,” Aizawa signaled calmly.

Kendo made the first move, her reflexes sharp from years of martial arts training. Even without her quirk, her footwork and balance were impressive. She closed the gap fast, going for a clean, straightforward strike to test Yaoyorozu’s reaction time.

But Momo, ever the strategist, was ready. She dodged, light on her feet, and used Kendo’s momentum against her, sweeping her arm aside and pivoting behind her. Kendo recovered quickly, swinging back with a solid punch, but Momo had already stepped out of range.

The fight wasn’t about brute strength — it was a chess match, and Momo played it like one.

Every move Kendo made, Momo observed and countered, her calm focus allowing her to slip past the flurry of attacks, conserving her energy while Kendo gradually tired from the constant output. Momo waited for an opening, and when it finally came — just a half-second of imbalance — she used a grappling move to throw Kendo to the ground and pin her.

Aizawa raised his hand. “Winner: Yaoyorozu.”

The girls both sat back, panting but smiling, and Kendo gave a short laugh as she accepted Momo’s offered hand.

“Nice one, Yaoyorozu. Your brain really is your sharpest weapon.”

Momo gave a modest smile, helping her up. “You almost had me in the beginning — I just had to be patient.”

Their classmates applauded, the friendly rivalry between the two classes heating up as Vlad King called out the next match.

Ashido versus Shiozaki. The two girls stepped forward, stretching out their limbs, both radiating confidence but in very different ways. Mina bounced lightly on her toes, her signature playful smirk in place, while Shiozaki stood calm, hands folded neatly in front of her.

Aizawa gave the signal. “Begin.”

Shiozaki moved with grace, her stance almost serene, relying on fluid motion and sharp timing. Even without her quirk, her posture and balance spoke of someone used to precision and control.

But Mina, ever the dancer at heart, used her speed and agility to her advantage. She darted in and out of Shiozaki’s range, making herself unpredictable and hard to pin down. Each time Shiozaki attempted to counter, Mina spun away, light on her feet and quick with her reactions.

The two circled each other, exchanging strikes and dodges, but as the match stretched on, it became clear that Mina’s unrelenting energy and fluid movement were overwhelming her opponent. Shiozaki tried for a final, decisive strike, but Mina twisted around it, sweeping her foot low and catching Shiozaki off guard.

With a sharp but playful “Gotcha!” Mina pinned her to the mat before she could recover.

Aizawa raised his hand. “Winner: Ashido.”

The crowd of students clapped and cheered, some even laughing at Mina’s triumphant, goofy little victory dance as she helped Shiozaki back to her feet.

“Nice match, Shiozaki! You’ve got some serious grace going on,” Mina said cheerfully.

Shiozaki gave a nod, composed as ever, but her small smile hinted at genuine respect. “You fight with an unusual rhythm, Ashido. It was difficult to predict.”

Mina grinned wide, jogging back to join her classmates, where Kaia gave her an approving fist bump as she passed. Another win for Class 1-A, and the friendly competition only grew fiercer.

Vlad King checked his list and called out the next pair.

Sero and Monoma stepped forward, a ripple of energy moved through the students watching.

Sero cracked his knuckles, relaxed as always, giving Monoma a laid-back grin. "Let's keep it clean, alright?"

Monoma, in contrast, had a smirk that was anything but. "Of course, my dear Class 1-A. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything… unseemly."

Kaia leaned toward Ashido and whispered, "He's definitely got something up his sleeve." Mina nodded with a quiet laugh.

The match began.

Sero wasted no time closing the gap, his agility and flexibility allowing him to dart in and try to sweep Monoma’s legs. Even without his tape, he moved like he had springs in his joints, clearly used to fighting in creative, dynamic ways. He kept the pressure on, forcing Monoma on the defensive.

But Monoma, ever the strategist, didn’t let himself get rattled. He analyzed Sero’s patterns quickly, playing the long game. He baited Sero into a false rhythm, then countered with sharp, brutal efficiency. Monoma moved faster than expected, catching Sero off balance with a low feint, followed by a palm strike to his midsection that knocked the wind out of him.

Monoma didn’t stop. He followed through with a sweep of Sero’s legs, landing him hard on the ground. Before Sero could recover, Monoma pinned him.

"Match over," Aizawa said coolly. "Winner: Monoma."

Monoma stood and brushed off his uniform, wearing a smug grin that practically radiated I told you so energy. He turned to the watching crowd, especially Class 1-A, and gave an exaggerated bow.

Sero groaned, rubbing his ribs but managed a grin. "Dude’s slippery when he’s serious."

Bakugo, arms crossed, muttered under his breath, "Tch. He’s still a clown."

Kaia watched Monoma head back toward his class with that signature theatrical swagger, and said dryly, “That man was born for drama.”

The scoreboard ticked forward — two wins for Class 1-A, two for Class 1-B. The tension was mounting, and the next pair was already making their way to the ring.

Bakugo versus Awase.

The class knew even without quirks, Bakugo’s raw strength, speed, and combat sense were top-tier — but Awase wasn’t a slouch either. His body was built tough from support training and engineering work, and he was quick on his feet with sharp instincts.

The two squared off, eyes locked. Bakugo rolled his shoulders, hands flexing like he could barely stand holding back from his usual explosive quirk-filled style. Awase, calm but sharp, dropped into his stance, ready.

Aizawa gave the signal, and the match was on.

Bakugo shot forward like a bullet, his reflexes honed to a razor’s edge. Awase managed to sidestep the first strike, countering with a firm elbow aimed for Bakugo’s ribs. But Bakugo adjusted mid-motion, blocking the hit with his forearm and using the momentum to spin behind Awase.

Awase turned fast, but Bakugo was faster — landing a solid punch to his gut that knocked the wind out of him. Awase staggered but tried to recover, throwing a wild haymaker. Bakugo ducked under it, grabbing Awase’s arm and yanking him forward into a sharp shoulder throw.

Awase hit the ground hard, and though he tried to push himself up, Bakugo was already looming over him, foot pressing lightly but firmly against his back in a clear sign of victory.

“Winner: Bakugo,” Aizawa announced.

Bakugo stepped back, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight but clearly pleased. As Awase got to his feet, he gave a sharp nod of respect to his opponent — no hard feelings, just a solid match.

From the sidelines, Kaia couldn't help but smile a little, knowing full well how much effort Bakugo put into improving his close combat beyond just using his Quirk. She could see the pride flicker in his eyes even if he didn’t say anything.

Ashido nudged her with a teasing grin. "Your boy's on fire, as always."

Kaia lightly rolled her eyes but her cheeks warmed slightly. “Yeah... he did good.”

The next match was a bit of a surprise on paper:

Todoroki vs. Tsuburaba.

Without their Quirks, the playing field was level — no fire, no ice, just pure hand-to-hand skill. Tsuburaba looked determined, aware that Todoroki’s combat instincts were sharp thanks to his father’s intense training, but this was his chance to prove himself outside the shadow of powerhouses like Todoroki.

At the signal, the two circled each other, both cautious but calculated. Todoroki’s stance was more formal, like a textbook martial artist, while Tsuburaba’s was scrappier, more fluid, almost street-fight style.

Todoroki threw the first strike, sharp and direct, aiming for Tsuburaba’s shoulder — but Tsuburaba sidestepped, locking Todoroki’s arm in a slick hold and using his momentum to throw him off balance. Todoroki recovered quickly, but Tsuburaba pressed in, jabbing quick, controlled hits that forced Todoroki on the defensive.

For the first time in a while, Todoroki found himself outpaced not by power, but by grit and street-level technique. He managed to land a few counters, but Tsuburaba was scrappy, reading his movements well and not giving him time to breathe.

In the final exchange, Tsuburaba feinted left, catching Todoroki slightly off-guard, and landed a firm strike to his core that sent him staggering back — enough for Aizawa to call it.

“Winner: Tsuburaba.”

The crowd blinked in shock — not because Tsuburaba wasn’t capable, but because Todoroki was rarely bested in anything combat-related.

Tsuburaba stood, breathing heavily but grinning, while Todoroki gave a short respectful nod, brushing off the dust from his uniform. No hard feelings — just a wake-up call and a note to train even more outside of his quirk.

From the sidelines, Kaia tilted her head, impressed. “Tsuburaba pulled that one off. Guess quirks really do make people lean on them too much sometimes.”

Bakugo, arms crossed, gave an approving but blunt scoff. “’Bout time some of these icy bastards get knocked back down to earth.”

The matches kept on rolling — one lesson clear to everyone watching: strength wasn’t always about the flashiest power.

The two girls stepped forward, the air was tense but respectful.

Jirō Kyōka vs. Kodai Tatami.

It all came down to strategy, reflexes, and pure fighting technique. Jirō, agile and sharp thanks to her musical instincts and training, kept her stance light and mobile, while Kodai stood calm and grounded, her posture steady like a seasoned grappler.

At the signal, Jirō darted forward first, using her speed to land quick jabs and test Kodai’s defense. Kodai didn’t rush, keeping her movements minimal, waiting for Jirō to overextend. The two circled, strikes exchanged — light hits from Jirō, blocks and sidesteps from Kodai.

Eventually, Jirō saw an opening and lunged in for a finishing sweep — but Kodai anticipated it, shifting her weight and catching Jirō mid-move with a sudden, clean shoulder check. The impact knocked Jirō off balance, and Kodai followed through with a smooth takedown, pinning her opponent to the ground.

Aizawa called it:
“Winner: Kodai Tatami.”

The scoreboard shifted — Class B now led, 4 to 3.

Jirō let out a breath and offered a small, sheepish smile from the ground. “Guess I got too eager.” Kodai helped her up with a nod and a small smile of her own, the quiet victory adding to Class B’s growing momentum.

The rest of the class watched closely, realizing that while Kodai wasn’t the flashiest student, her cool-headed approach was hard to crack. Kaia leaned against the fence, arms crossed, eyeing the match. "She waited for the perfect opening — smart."

Bakugo, still keeping his gaze sharp, muttered, “Tch, too patient for her own good, but it worked.”

The next match was already stirring as the sun began to dip lower — the energy on both sides rising, Class 1-A eager to close the gap, and Class B eager to seal the day’s lead.

As Kaminari and Yanagi stepped onto the mat, the energy from both classes hit a fever pitch.

Denki, usually all smiles, had his game face on. He wasn’t going to let Class B walk away with this without a fight — even if quirks were off the table. Yanagi, calm and composed as always, bowed politely before slipping into a light defensive stance, her movements quiet and almost ghost-like.

The match began, and Denki charged in, using his quick reflexes to try and overwhelm her early on. Yanagi, however, had a sharp eye for timing, weaving around his strikes like she was gliding through thin air. Every time Denki thought he had her, she’d slip away at the last second, barely leaving him room to reset his footing.

It wasn’t long before Denki grew frustrated and left an opening — Yanagi caught it, stepping in and using a well-timed sweep to knock him off his feet. She followed through with a pin, clean and effective.

A sharp whistle from Vlad King confirmed it:

“Winner: Yanagi Reiko!”

Cheers erupted from Class B’s side as the score clicked up — 5-3, Class B in the lead. Their victory dance was already starting, but Class A wasn’t about to back down. The loss seemed to light a new fire under the remaining competitors.

Kirishima cracked his knuckles, grinning wide. “Alright! Let’s bring this back!”

Ashido, from the sidelines, pumped her fist. “Let’s go! Still two more matches!”

Kaia stood leaning forward, a little bounce in her stance, already locking her focus on the next pair. Her heartbeat drummed with anticipation, fully ready to cheer for whoever stepped forward next, determined to see her class close that gap.

Class B might have been ahead — but Class A was still burning with pride.

As Uraraka and Kuroiro stepped forward, the tension in the air was razor-sharp. With Class B holding the lead, this match could make or break the momentum for Class A.

Kuroiro was known for his cunning in the shadows, even without his Quirk, his stealth and precision made him a slippery opponent. But Uraraka, small but determined, stood her ground, her eyes sharp and focused. The two bowed to each other before the match started.

Kuroiro opened strong, using swift footwork and sharp, unpredictable movements to try and unbalance her. But Uraraka had grown so much from her early clumsy days — her training with Gunhead showed. She moved with purpose, deflecting his strikes and staying light on her feet, using her size and speed to her advantage.

The two exchanged a fast series of blocks and counters, the class on the edge of their seats, but Uraraka saw her moment. A textbook pivot and sweep dropped Kuroiro to the mat, and with lightning-fast reflexes, she shifted her weight, locking him into a solid pin.

Vlad King raised his hand, signaling the end.

“Winner: Uraraka Ochaco!”

A wave of cheers burst out from Class A’s side, the gap now closing to just one — 5-4. Uraraka stood up, catching her breath but smiling wide, the pride clear on her face.

Her classmates rushed over to give her high-fives, Ashido and Yaoyorozu cheering the loudest, and Kaia called out, “That’s what I’m talking about, Uraraka!” proud and pumped to see her friend hold her own.

Now, it all came down to the final match of the day.

Both classes held their breath as Vlad King stepped up, scanning his list before calling the final names:

Mikage Kaia versus Kamakiri Togaru.

The air around the training ground grew still as the two stepped onto the mat, both focused, both ready. Kaia’s sharp brown eyes met Kamakiri’s razor-sharp gaze, the insect-themed student already rolling his shoulders, blades twitching at the anticipation of battle.

Mr. Aizawa, standing off to the side, gave a small nod — his Quirk already active, canceling Kaia’s seismic sense the moment the match began. For Kaia, it was like a veil of silence over her second nature. But she had expected it. Her father trained her for situations like this, always hammering in the lesson: “When you can’t rely on your quirk, rely on your mind. Wait. Listen. Make the first real move count.”

The moment Vlad King gave the signal, Kamakiri lunged, fierce and aggressive. His strikes were wild but precise, aimed to overwhelm her quickly. Kaia twisted and deflected, letting his momentum pass her by. Her breathing stayed steady, ears tuned to every footstep, every exhale, the shuffle of his shoes on the mat.

They exchanged blows in rapid flurries — Kaia blocking, ducking, landing a clean palm strike against his ribs; Kamakiri recovering and countering with sharp, slicing hand chops that Kaia narrowly dodged. The two were evenly matched in grit and endurance, drawing more than one impressed glance from their classmates.

Kirishima and Ashido were practically at the edge of their seats, cheering her on, while Katsuki — leaning against a tree with arms crossed — watched quietly, his expression unreadable but sharp.

Kaia circled Kamakiri, feet light, hands steady in a defensive guard. She could feel the rhythm of his attacks now, even without her seismic sense. When he lunged in once more with another hard swipe, she pivoted, stepped in close, and used her momentum to flip him over her shoulder, slamming him onto his back with perfect timing.

A beat of silence followed before Vlad King raised his hand.

“Winner: Mikage Kaia!”

The classes burst into cheers, especially Class 1-A, who roared their support, closing the match count for the day at 5-5 — a tie.

Kaia offered Kamakiri a hand to help him up, which he accepted with a sharp exhale and a short nod of respect. Despite the exhaustion settling into her limbs, Kaia wore a soft, proud smile as she returned to her classmates.

Aizawa gave the slightest nod her way, the kind of rare acknowledgment that said well done without a single word.

As the sun dipped lower and the evening air cooled, the students were dismissed for dinner — a well-earned meal after a day of hard training and combat.

Kaia stuck close to her friends, her heart still steady from the fight, knowing this was just the beginning of how much she’d grow during this camp.

*****

After a long, exhausting day of training and sparring, the students of Class 1-A and 1-B had finally showered and changed into comfortable clothes, feeling like they’d earned a relaxing evening. Muscles sore, stomachs growling, they shuffled toward the dining area expecting a hot meal waiting for them.

But instead, Mandalay stood there at the front, arms crossed and an all-too-cheerful smile on her face. The moment the students gathered, she clapped her hands together.

“Surprise!” she chirped. “Tonight’s dinner… you’ll be making it yourselves!”

A unified groan swept through both classes — even those who were usually upbeat like Kirishima and Kaminari slumped their shoulders.

“Seriously?” Kaminari whined, looking utterly betrayed. “You’re gonna starve us after all that work?”

Pixie-Bob, popping up behind Mandalay, giggled. “It’s part of your training, too! A hero can’t always count on someone else to feed them, you know. Resourcefulness is key!”

Ragdoll chimed in from the side, “And teamwork! Let’s see if you can work together when your stomachs are doing the thinking.”

Kaia exchanged a glance with Ashido, who burst out laughing, the two both equally tired but amused by the situation. Bakugo, arms shoved deep into his pockets, scowled but didn’t say anything — though the sharp gleam in his eye suggested he was already planning to take over the cooking.

Class 1-A and 1-B were directed to a small outdoor kitchen setup, complete with grills, basic utensils, raw ingredients, and an open firepit. They’d have to hunt through coolers and crates for meat, rice, and vegetables, and prepare everything themselves — cutting, seasoning, and cooking.

Kaia rolled up her sleeves, securing her hair into a bun. “Alright, who actually knows how to cook?” she asked, earning a few raised hands and a lot of panicked, clueless expressions.

Kirishima let out a laugh. “Looks like this might turn into another survival exercise.”

Despite the initial complaints, the classes quickly divided into groups, turning the whole task into another fun challenge. Kaia joined a small circle with Ashido, Jirou, Todoroki, and surprisingly, Katsuki, who — despite being his usual gruff self — knew his way around a kitchen thanks to his love for good food.

As the sun finally dipped beyond the horizon, the campfire crackled, the smell of grilled meat and rice filled the air, and the sound of laughter replaced the groans of exhaustion. The students sat under the stars, enjoying the meals they worked together to make — even if some were slightly burnt or under-seasoned.

Kaia sat cross-legged with her plate in her lap, glancing over at Katsuki a few feet away as he quietly munched on his food, eyes flicking to her for a second before looking away, just the faintest trace of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Her heart gave the smallest flutter, and for the first time that day, she didn’t feel so tired after all.

Chapter Text

The crisp morning air was still cool against her skin as Kaia stepped outside, the sun just beginning to peek over the treetops. The forest around the training camp was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. After the whirlwind of training, sparring, and last night’s surprise cooking session, the peaceful silence felt like a breath of fresh air.

Dressed casually in her U.A. t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, Kaia wandered along one of the worn dirt paths that curved away from the cabins, hands tucked loosely behind her back. The breeze carried the scent of dew-soaked earth and pine, and for the first time since arriving, her body — sore and aching from the past two days — started to truly relax.

Her thoughts drifted while she walked. About the fights yesterday. About how she held her own against Kamakiri — even without her seismic sense. She replayed the battle in her head, the way she’d listened to the rhythm of his movements, the timing of his strikes.

Rounding a bend, Kaia paused at the edge of a hill, overlooking a small clearing below where the camp was nestled. From up here, she could see the faint outlines of her classmates still sleeping in, the cabins quiet and still. It was rare for everything to be so still at U.A., especially with Class 1-A’s usual chaos.

Kaia sat at the edge of the ledge, legs dangling freely as the soft breeze played with the ends of her hair. The sun was still stretching itself across the sky, golden light painting the forest canopy below. Her senses were calm and quiet — until a familiar, subtle shift in the air tugged at her attention.

She didn’t have to turn around. The weight of his footsteps hadn’t even crunched the dirt yet, but she already knew.

Katsuki.

Even after all these years, his presence was something she could always pick out from the rest — sharp, steady, and stubbornly unchanging. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she kept her gaze on the view.

It made her think back to when they were little, barely old enough to tie their own shoes, let alone dream of becoming heroes. Katsuki was always the first to wake up during their sleepovers. Whether they were at her house, his, or sometimes even Izuku’s, it was like his body couldn’t handle sleeping past sunrise.

She could still picture it perfectly: little Kaia curled up under her blanket, only to get a rough shake from an impatient, wide-awake Katsuki hovering over her. And if Izuku wasn’t up yet, he’d stomp over and give him the same wake-up call — usually louder, usually accompanied by some name-calling for "being lazy."

It was one of those memories that never failed to make her laugh.

The crunch of gravel under his boots finally met her ears, confirming what her senses had already known. Katsuki came to a slow stop beside her, hands buried deep into his pockets. The air between them was easy — no need for greetings, no need for small talk.

“You’re always up early,” Kaia said quietly, amusement in her voice.

Katsuki let out a light, scoffing breath through his nose.
“And you still take forever to get moving in the morning.”

Kaia chuckled, tilting her head to glance at him.
“Old habits, huh?”

“Tch. Yeah.” His voice was softer than usual, almost thoughtful as his gaze drifted out over the horizon.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just the quiet understanding of two people who had shared too many mornings like this to count — first as kids, now as classmates, both still chasing the same impossible dream.

And just like always, sitting next to him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Katsuki lowered himself onto the ledge beside her, resting his arms casually on his knees as the early morning sun warmed their backs. For a while neither of them said anything, just staring out at the endless stretch of trees, both comfortable in the silence.

It was Kaia who finally spoke, her voice quiet but thoughtful.

“Last night’s matchups were wild,” she finally broke the silence, her voice soft, a small smile creeping onto her face. “But I wasn’t worried about yours.”

Katsuki huffed through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a cocky, familiar smirk.

“Tch. You’d be an idiot if you were.” He tilted his head slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You handled yours pretty damn well, too.”

Kaia chuckled, nudging her shoulder against his lightly.
“Thanks. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever fought like that before — without my quirk, I mean.”

Katsuki raised a brow, interest flickering behind his sharp gaze.
“Didn’t seem like it. You looked calm as hell.”

She let out a small, thoughtful hum, fingers drumming against her thigh.
“When Aizawa-sensei erased my quirk, it was like... the world finally quieted down.”

Katsuki shifted slightly, his full attention on her now. She continued, voice steady but laced with honesty.

“My seismic sense is always on. Even when I sleep, I’m listening to the ground, the vibrations, everything moving around me. But the second it vanished, I felt... light. Like I could breathe without holding something back.”

There was a pause before she added, almost in a whisper:
“It was peaceful.”

Katsuki stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
“Guess that’s the thing about quirks,” he muttered, leaning back on his palms, eyes drifting toward the horizon. “People forget they can trap you as much as they can save you.”

Kaia blinked, glancing at him sideways, surprised by the rare bit of insight. He wasn’t wrong, though — the way he said it, like he understood that feeling better than most, lingered in the air between them.

“You still fought smart. No quirk, no crutch. Just you,” he added, voice lower, almost grudgingly impressed. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”

She smiled softly, warmth blooming in her chest at the unexpected praise.

“Dangerous, huh?” she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.
“Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Katsuki scoffed, but there was no bite to it, just the usual rough edges smoothing into something easier.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”

She let out a quiet laugh, turning her face back toward the sun.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The breeze shifted, brushing Kaia’s curls back from her face as she let her legs swing a little, the earth beneath her bare feet cool and steady. Katsuki sat next to her, the morning sun softening his usual sharp edges, though his usual scowl still lingered.

After a pause, Kaia spoke again, her voice quieter this time.

"Y’know, there are only a few times when my seismic sense doesn’t feel so... heavy."

Katsuki tilted his head just slightly, glancing her way. "Yeah?"

She nodded, staring down at the ground like she could feel the memories in her bones.
"It’s weird. When I was little, it always calmed down around my parents. I don’t know if it was because I felt safe, or just... comfortable, but it was like the world got quieter on its own."

Katsuki stayed silent, letting her talk — a rare patience reserved only for people like her.

Kaia’s voice softened even more, almost shyly.
"And lately... I’ve noticed it happens around you, too."

That made him blink, the words catching him a little off guard. His head tilted toward her, lips parting slightly like he was about to say something, but the words never quite made it out. Instead, the edges of his expression softened just the faintest bit.

"Hah. Guess your senses finally wised up." His voice was rough, but underneath it there was something gentler, something honest. "You’ve always been safe, dumbass. At least when I’m around."

Kaia let out a quiet laugh, the warmth blooming in her chest enough to make her cheeks flush. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly at the sincerity buried in his usual bluntness.

"Yeah... I guess I have."

For a long while, neither of them needed to say anything else. The two just sat there, letting the morning light soak into their skin, the easy, unspoken connection between them stronger than any quirk ever could be.

The world kept moving, but for Kaia, her senses stayed quiet. Calm.
Just like always, when it came to him.

As the sun climbed a little higher, the quiet morning stretched between them. Kaia finally pushed herself off the ledge, brushing off her shorts, and glanced down at Katsuki, who was still sitting there, hands loosely dangling over his knees.

A moment later, he stood too, falling into step beside her as they started making their way back toward camp.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like before either — it was heavier, hanging between them like both of them had more to say than they wanted to admit.

Katsuki kept his eyes ahead, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His voice was low, almost gruff, like the words tasted unfamiliar coming out.

"You’ve been on my mind a lot lately."

Kaia glanced at him, a little surprised by how soft, almost unsure, his tone was. But she didn’t say anything. She let him finish.

"Not in a bad way," he added quickly, flicking his eyes toward her, then away again. "Just... more than usual."

The weight of his words settled over her, her heart skipping as her steps slowed for just a second. She’d always known there was something unspoken between them — the way he looked at her, the way he treated her like she was the only person in the world who could handle his sharp edges without flinching.

And now, that line they’d been treading — the thin, unspoken line between just being childhood friends or something more — it felt like it was dissolving right there on the dirt path, fading away with each step.

Kaia smiled softly, her voice light but steady.
"Yeah... I’ve been thinking about you a lot too."

Katsuki didn’t respond right away, but his lips quirked upward in the slightest, almost invisible if you weren’t looking closely.

"Figures." His voice was quieter now, no heat behind the words. Just honesty.

They walked the rest of the way back together, shoulders brushing every so often, the space between them feeling smaller and smaller, and neither of them minded.

*****

The sun sat high in the sky as Class 1-A and 1-B gathered around the long picnic-style tables, the air filled with the chatter of tired but satisfied students digging into the meal they’d prepared themselves — a little burnt, a little uneven, but after the past couple of days of training, it tasted like a feast.

Kaia sat with Ashido, Uraraka, and Jirou, the four of them quietly enjoying their food while the boys debated over seasoning disasters and bragged about who did the most work.

Just as a comfortable lull settled over the group, Vlad King’s deep voice cut through the conversation, bringing all eyes to him.

“Alright, listen up.” He held a clipboard in one hand, his sharp eyes scanning over the names. “This afternoon, after you’ve all finished up here, we’ll be continuing where we left off — Class 1-A versus Class 1-B. Hand-to-hand combat, no quirks.”

Groans and cheers rippled through the students as they straightened up, some more eager than others.

Vlad King tapped the board.
“The remaining ten from Class B and eleven from Class A will step forward when called. Monoma, you’ll be fighting again today to balance out the numbers.”

Monoma, seated confidently with his class, gave a dramatic little grin, arms folded like he’d been expecting nothing less.

“Of course I am,” he said, smugly glancing over at Class 1-A. “One match wasn’t enough to demonstrate my brilliance anyway.”

Bakugo let out a sharp scoff from his spot across the table, while Kirishima leaned in toward Kaia and whispered, “You’d think he won the sports festival the way he talks.”

Kaia chuckled under her breath, setting her chopsticks down. The tension in the air shifted — not in a bad way, but like everyone’s focus had snapped back into place, the same spark of competition from last night reigniting.

Vlad King lowered the clipboard and crossed his arms.
“Eat up, rest up, and meet back at the training mats in an hour. The rest of the matchups will begin promptly.”

The students nodded, some returning to their food with renewed energy, others already mentally preparing themselves for the battles ahead.

Kaia sat back slightly, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement mixed with nerves. The afternoon was going to be another test — but she was ready for it.

*****

Class 1-A and 1-B gathered once again around the sparring mats. Despite full stomachs and lingering fatigue, the energy buzzing between the students was sharp and electric — the competitive fire from the day before still very much alive.

Mr. Aizawa and Vlad King stood side by side, eyes sweeping over the eager faces in front of them.

“Alright, first match — Hakagure from Class 1-A, Komori from Class 1-B,” Vlad King called out, his voice firm.

Hakagure and Komori stepped forward, both shaking out their limbs and moving onto the mat. Hakagure’s usual bubbly attitude was replaced by sharp focus, the sun glinting faintly off her gloves and shoes, the only hints of her otherwise invisible form. Komori, cheerful as always, gave her a small smile before her expression settled into determination.

“Remember,” Aizawa reminded, his Quirk already active. “No quirks. This is about instinct, technique, and awareness.”

With a quick nod from both girls, the match began.

Hakagure’s invisibility gave her a slippery advantage at first, her footsteps light and quick as she circled Komori. But Komori wasn’t easily rattled — her time spent nurturing plants had sharpened her senses to sound and slight environmental shifts. She stayed patient, dodging light strikes and trying to predict Hakagure’s next move.

The match unfolded like a game of patience and precision, both girls adapting fast. But in the end, Komori’s grounded style and sharp reaction time gave her the upper hand. She managed to sweep Hakagure’s legs, pinning her long enough for Aizawa to call the match.

“Winner: Komori!” Vlad King announced.

The students clapped, some cheering for their classmates, others nodding in quiet respect for the fair fight. Hakagure, ever a good sport, let out a breathy laugh as Komori helped her to her feet.

“You got me! Nice one,” Hakagure chirped, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder before the two rejoined the group.

The match set the tone for the afternoon — the rest of the students bracing for their names to be called.

Next up, Vlad King raised his clipboard once more, glancing over the list before calling out:

“Aoyama and FukIdashi — you’re up!”

The two students stepped forward, both with very different energies. Aoyama adjusted his signature belt with dramatic flair, striking a pose even without his Quirk allowed, while FukIdashi bounced lightly on his feet, comic-book speech bubbles popping over his head for a second — though they’d have no real power in this fight.

Mr. Aizawa’s eyes glowed faintly, already nullifying any accidental activation.

“No quirks. Begin.”

Aoyama, usually reliant on his naval laser, had to switch gears fast, leaning on the self-defence training he’d put effort into at U.A., but FukIdashi’s energetic and unpredictable movements kept him on his toes. Nirei wasn’t just flashy with his speech bubble quirk — he had quick reflexes and solid footwork.

Despite Aoyama’s best efforts to use agility and flashy dodges, FukIdashi managed to land a clean sweep, knocking Aoyama to the mat with a smooth, well-timed counter.

“Winner: FukIdashi!” Vlad King called, as Class 1-B cheered.

Aoyama sat up, striking a dramatic, slightly pouty pose as he sighed:
“C'est la vie... A most dazzling defeat.”

The crowd chuckled, and the two boys exchanged a nod of mutual respect as they cleared the mat.

Vlad King checked the next names on his list, glancing back up.
“Alright — Sato Rikido and ShishIda Jurota. You’re up.”

The tension built again as the two powerhouses stepped forward, both physically imposing even without quirks. This was going to be a match of raw strength and grit!

The match was short but intense — both Sato and ShishIda were absolute powerhouses, relying on brute strength and solid fundamentals.

ShishIda charged first, using his natural beast-like reflexes even without his Quirk active, but Sato held his ground. Timing was everything, and Sato used the moment ShishIda overcommitted on a swing to grapple him and pull off a clean throw.

With a heavy thud, ShishIda hit the mat and Aizawa, who’d been quietly watching, gave a subtle nod as Vlad King announced:

“Winner: Sato Rikido!”

Class 1-A erupted in cheers, the score tightening up once again as Sato offered a hand to help ShishIda back onto his feet. ShishIda accepted with a grin, clearly impressed.

As the two stepped aside, Vlad King raised his clipboard once more:

“Next match — Tsuyu Asui and Hiryu Rin. Step up!”

The crowd perked up, knowing both Tsuyu and Rin were clever fighters who relied on strategy over brute force.

The match between Asui and Rin was a battle of wit and timing. Both fighters stayed light on their feet, each trying to bait the other into making the first move.

Rin used sharp, clean strikes — his martial arts training clearly showing — but Asui was quick, dodging and weaving with her natural agility. She waited patiently, her frog-like reflexes giving her an edge. When Rin overextended trying to land a finishing blow, Asui used her flexibility to slip behind him and lock in a clean takedown, pinning him to the mat.

Aizawa signaled the match over, and Vlad King announced:

“Winner: Asui Tsuyu!”

Class 1-A let out a cheer, proud of Asui for her smart, steady win. The overall score was now tight:

Class A - 6
Class B - 7

Asui helped Rin up, both of them exchanging respectful nods before stepping back. Vlad King wasted no time moving on:

“Next match — Shoji Mezou and Bondo Kojiro!”

Shoji adjusted his wraps calmly, stepping forward onto the mat, while Bondo cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders, ready to square off.

The energy around both classes grew as the match was about to begin!

The match between Shoji and Bondo was a real display of strength and strategy.

Bondo tried to stay mobile, using his bulk-up strength and solid grapples to lock Shoji down, but Shoji’s multi-limbed advantage gave him flexibility and a superior reach. He stayed calm under pressure, using his keen senses and raw power to keep Bondo at a distance.

In the final moments, Shoji managed to feint an opening, drawing Bondo in for a heavy swing — but Shoji caught his arm mid-strike, using his other limbs to trip and pin Bondo square to the mat.

Aizawa raised his hand and announced:

“Winner: Shoji Mezou.”

The score officially evened out:

Class A — 7
Class B — 7

Cheers erupted from both sides — the tension was higher than ever, each class fired up.

*****

The battles continued, each student giving their all. The score going back and forth between the two classes.

The final match had both classes buzzing — the score was dead even at 10 to 10 — and now the last two names were called:

Vlad King announced, "Final match: Monoma Neito versus Mineta Minoru!"

The moment Mineta’s name left Vlad King’s mouth, Class 1-A’s table collectively sweatdropped. A few groans and sighs slipped out, and Kaia even buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back a laugh.

Kaminari leaned toward Kirishima, "Welp... there goes our winning streak."

Monoma stood confidently on the mat, arms crossed, a smug look already plastered across his face. Mineta shuffled forward, nervous as ever, his body language screaming that he’d rather be anywhere else.

The match was over in a flash. Monoma dodged Mineta’s clumsy attempts to close the distance, tripping him up and pinning him down with ease. The final blow was more about precision and timing than brute strength — Monoma’s smugness shining through as he stood tall.

Vlad King raised his hand:
"Winner: Monoma Neito!"

Class 1-B erupted in cheers, hands shooting into the air as they claimed victory with a score of 11 to 10. Monoma, as expected, wasted no time strutting back to his classmates, basking in their high-fives and pats on the back. His voice was already carrying through the clearing, no doubt planning an over-the-top speech.

Meanwhile, Class 1-A stood in a loose cluster, a mixture of tired chuckles and mock groans passing between them.

Kaia folded her arms, shaking her head with a knowing smile.
"Poor Mineta. That was a rough matchup."

Katsuki, with his arms crossed, let out a short, annoyed “Tch.”
"Figures. Damn extra."

Despite the loss, the tension began to melt away as Mr. Aizawa stepped forward, his usual tired expression softening just enough to meet the mood of the moment. His voice was calm but firm, commanding quiet as both classes turned to him.

“I hope none of you are too hung up on the score.”
His gaze swept across the tired, dusty faces of his students.
“You’ve all worked harder these past two days than you probably thought possible. Winning or losing isn’t the point — adapting is.”

The students stood a little straighter, the sting of defeat washing away bit by bit.

“I’ve seen growth in every one of you. You fought with your quirks. Without your quirks. You’ve learned how to think on your feet, how to push past limits, and how to rely on the skills you've sharpened — not just the ones you were born with.”

His eyes lingered on Mineta for a moment, softening slightly.
“Mineta. You lost today, but you stepped onto the mat anyway. That takes guts. Don’t forget that.”

Mineta’s eyes widened a little, the small spark of pride flickering behind his usual nervousness.

“The same goes for all of you,” Aizawa continued, looking between Class A and B.
“The only real failure is walking away without learning something. Judging by what I’ve seen, none of you failed today.”

The clearing was quiet, but the weight of his words settled over them, steady and encouraging. The students nodded, their spirits slowly lifting as a sense of pride took the place of frustration.

“Now,” he added, his tone dry but unmistakably fond, “rest up. You have endurance training soon.”

*****

After an hour of rest, both Class 1-A and Class 1-B found themselves back outside, gathered at the base of a steep hill that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky. The last of the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the clearing, where they all stood facing a new challenge — endurance training.

Mandalay and Vlad King stood before them, both looking unusually serious, though Mandalay’s expression was a little softer than usual, as if she was trying to reassure the students that this would be manageable.

“Alright, everyone,” Vlad King’s deep voice rang out, “This is the real test. You’ve been pushed to your limits physically, mentally, and emotionally these past few days. Now, we’ll see how well you can handle endurance.”

Class 1-A exchanged wary looks. They knew this wouldn’t be easy. After all, they had been through so much already.

Mandalay stepped forward with a warm but determined smile. “We’ll be running up that hill,” she said, pointing to the daunting incline. “At the top, you’ll face a set of obstacles designed to challenge your stamina and reaction time. You’ll need to keep moving and help each other out as much as possible.”

Kaia’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the hill. Her legs still felt a bit sore from the previous day’s training, but the fire within her was just as strong as ever.

Katsuki, standing a little to the side with his arms crossed, shot her a quick glance, the challenge already lighting up his eyes.

“Don’t drag your feet, Kaia,” he called out, his usual brashness coming through, but there was something else in his tone — an almost unspoken promise to push each other.

She grinned, returning his challenge with a simple, “You too.” She wasn’t about to let him get ahead of her this time.

The two of them shared a brief look, and then the signal was given.

“Ready… Set… GO!”

And with that, the students took off, charging toward the hill.

The first few steps were easy enough, but as the incline grew steeper, the students quickly found themselves panting for breath. Each student relied on their own abilities to push through. Mineta, despite his earlier loss, had found a strange focus, his tiny body struggling to keep pace but his determination growing as he glanced over his shoulder at the others.

Kaia’s heart beat steadily as she focused on the rhythm of her breathing, maintaining a consistent pace. As her feet hit the ground with each step, she could feel the subtle vibrations of the earth beneath her — but it wasn’t the same as when she was using her seismic sense. Here, there was just a steady pulse of energy, a quiet thrum of movement around her.

As they reached the halfway point, a series of large, thick ropes appeared ahead of them, hanging down from trees and strung in an almost chaotic pattern. Each student had to climb over or through them, working their arms, legs, and endurance to make it through the tangled mess.

“I hate ropes,” Kaia muttered to herself, remembering her brief history with climbing. She made her way toward the closest one and hoisted herself up with ease, the muscles in her arms protesting slightly but keeping her steady.

Katsuki, of course, blasted ahead of her with his usual explosive energy, using his explosions to launch himself higher.

“I guess some people just can’t do things the normal way,” Kaia murmured with a roll of her eyes.

She quickly got back to focus, though, as the next part of the obstacle appeared: a wide river that stretched across the path. The water looked deceptively calm, but it was deep, and the current was fast. The students had to cross it using the rocks scattered along the streambed.

Kaia didn’t hesitate. She knew that the longer she thought about it, the harder it would become. With quick, determined steps, she leapt from one rock to the next, maintaining her balance and making sure her footing was sure.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of her classmates struggling to keep up, some laughing, some swearing, but everyone moving forward.

Finally, as the students approached the final part of the training — a steep slope leading back up to the camp — they could see the finish line at the top. The last stretch would be their hardest test.

Breathing heavily, Kaia dug her feet into the ground, her mind focusing on nothing but pushing forward. She wasn’t going to let anyone pass her.

Katsuki’s explosive force surged ahead again, but this time, Kaia was right there with him, matching his pace. Neither of them had said a word, but the unspoken challenge between them had never been clearer.

At the top of the hill, Vlad King and Mandalay were waiting.

“Great work, everyone,” Mandalay called out with a grin. “You’ve all got heart, I’ll give you that.”

Vlad King gave a rare smile as well, crossing his arms. “You all passed the first test. But remember, endurance is more than just physical strength. It’s mental, too. The next part will challenge that.”

Kaia stood, panting and tired but with a fierce, satisfied smile. The day wasn’t over yet, but she felt the rush of accomplishment, knowing that this was just one more step in her journey to grow stronger. And she had no intention of stopping.

Katsuki, standing next to her, turned to her with a slight smirk.

“Don’t get cocky. The real stuff’s just beginning.”

Kaia couldn’t help but grin back. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Katsuki.”

They both took a deep breath, feeling the energy of the moment pulse through them. There was no turning back now.

The next part of the endurance training took the students by surprise. After a brief break to catch their breath, Vlad King and Mandalay gathered them together at the top of the hill, where a series of intimIdating obstacle courses had been set up. Unlike the first phase, which focused on physical endurance, this new section was all about testing their mental strength, resourcefulness, and teamwork.

Mandalay's voice rang out, carrying across the wind as she addressed the students. "This next part will push you even harder. It’s not just about speed or strength — it’s about how well you can think under pressure and rely on each other."

Vlad King stepped forward with a nod. "We’ve set up a series of challenges that require both mental agility and cooperation. You’ll need to work together, use your quirks creatively, and adapt to rapidly changing situations. This will be a full-body and mind workout."

The students exchanged glances, all sensing the seriousness in their instructors' tones. This wasn’t going to be like the simple physical obstacles they had faced earlier.

"Alright, here’s how it’s going to work," Vlad King continued. "Each group will face different challenges, but you will be working in pairs. You’ll have to help each other navigate through each part of the course. And remember, you can’t rely solely on your quirks to get through this — teamwork is key."

Kaia glanced over at Katsuki, sensing his usual eagerness to take charge, but she also saw the focused determination in his eyes. She wasn’t going to let him take the lead this time — not without a challenge.

The first challenge presented itself as a large, towering structure resembling a maze with several moving platforms. Some were rotating while others tilted unpredictably. The task was simple: each pair had to navigate through the maze without falling or getting knocked off. The platforms were constantly in motion, and timing was everything.

Kaia and Katsuki were paired together for this first test. The maze’s unpredictability was exactly what Kaia had been preparing for, and she wasn’t about to let her teammate down. She relied on her seismic sense to guide her through the shifting movements of the platforms, using subtle vibrations in the ground to predict their shifts.

"Stay sharp," Katsuki grunted as he charged ahead, his explosive bursts making the air around them crackle. "You’ve got this."

Kaia smiled, taking a step forward onto the first platform. "I’m right behind you."

The course seemed to challenge their agility, speed, and reflexes, and Kaia’s seismic sense was both an advantage and a limitation. While it allowed her to predict shifts in the platforms, the constant movement made it harder for her to sense the finer details. She had to rely more on her instincts than ever before, but it didn’t slow her down.

Katsuki’s explosions helped clear the way when the platforms tilted too steeply, and Kaia’s quick thinking kept them balanced when the path became narrow. The two of them worked together seamlessly, anticipating each other’s moves without needing to speak.

Meanwhile, the other pairs faced their own challenges. Some had to climb a series of ropes and walls, while others were faced with solving complex puzzles under time pressure. The puzzles were designed to test their problem-solving skills, requiring them to use their quirks in new and creative ways.

Sero, for example, had to use his tape to swing from one part of the course to the next, but he found himself struggling when the ropes started to shift mid-swing. With the help of Kirishima, who used his hardened form to steady the rope, they made it through — barely, but they made it.

The course was grueling, with obstacles designed to make the students think creatively about how they could use their quirks in unconventional ways. One particularly tricky puzzle involved navigating a field full of moving rocks. Here, the students had to rely not only on their physical strength but also on their ability to adapt quickly to the constantly shifting environment.

After the pair made it through the maze, they were immediately sent to the next challenge — a massive pool of thick mud. The task was to make it across the pool without sinking, using only their wits and their quirks.

“Great,” Katsuki muttered, looking down at the mud, clearly not excited about getting dirty. “You go first.”

Kaia rolled her eyes. “Right, because that’s totally fair. I’ll go first and risk getting stuck while you wait for me to figure it out, huh?”

Katsuki smirked. “Exactly.”

However, Kaia wasn’t the least bit phased by the mud. She had dealt with worse things training with Hoshino and Yu. Using her seismic sense, she could feel the ground beneath the surface and detect any hazards below. She confidently stepped into the pool, finding solid footing in places where it looked like there would be none.

“Follow my lead,” she called to Katsuki.

With Kaia guiding the way, Katsuki followed, using his explosions to propel himself when necessary and avoid getting bogged down by the thick mud. The two of them reached the other side quickly, their teamwork once again shining through.

As the other students finished their tasks, Vlad King and Mandalay called everyone together, pleased with the results. “This was a good exercise. You’ve all shown great potential in working together. But remember — this isn’t over yet. The next phase will test you even further.”

Kaia stood with her arms crossed, catching her breath. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take, but deep down, she knew it was all worth it. The training had pushed her and her classmates to their limits, but it was shaping them into even stronger heroes.

Katsuki’s voice broke through her thoughts as he grinned, wiping mud from his hands. “This is just the beginning, huh?”

Kaia returned the grin. “You know it.”

And as they stood there, facing the next obstacle that awaited them, both students knew that no matter what came next, they were ready.

*****

The warm, soothing water of the hot springs enveloped the girls of Class 1-A and 1-B as they sank into the natural pools, the heat melting away the tension in their muscles after the grueling day of training. This particular hot spring was for general use, not separated like the ones attached to the locker rooms. The steam from the water rose in gentle wisps, blurring the outlines of the girls' relaxed faces as they let out sighs of relief.

Kaia sat on the edge of one of the hot spring pools, her legs dipped into the steaming water. The day had been long and exhausting, but it felt nice to unwind for a moment, the soft glow of the evening's light casting a calming atmosphere over everything. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands escaping as she looked out at the rest of the group, who were scattered throughout the hot springs.

Her classmates were all in similar states of relaxation. Momo, who had been particularly quiet today, was leaning back against the rocks, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the peaceful environment. Uraraka and Asui were in a corner, talking animatedly about the challenges they’d faced that day, their voices blending with the sounds of the water and the gentle evening breeze. Even the always-energetic Ashido was unusually quiet, her usual bubbly personality subdued by the calming atmosphere of the hot springs.

Kaia couldn't help but smile as she glanced over at Katsuki, who, as usual, was sitting off to the side, avoiding any sort of group conversation. His fiery attitude seemed to have simmered down for the moment, though his tense posture was a clear sign that he wasn’t exactly “relaxing” in the traditional sense. He was here, though, and that was enough.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?" Uraraka’s voice broke Kaia out of her thoughts as she joined her at the edge of the pool, her eyes sparkling. "After all that chaos today, this is exactly what we needed."

Kaia nodded, leaning back to soak in the warmth. "Yeah, I don’t think any of us realized just how much we needed this until now."

Asui, who had moved closer to the edge, added with a soft smile, "It’s nice to just... let go for a while. No fights, no challenges... just peace."

Kaia gave a small laugh, her thoughts drifting back to the intense battles earlier in the day. "Yeah, today definitely pushed us all to the limit. But we made it. And that’s what counts."

"You’re all lucky," Momo spoke up from her spot near the rocks, her voice slightly distant. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt so drained, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve learned so much today. It’s strange, isn’t it? How exhaustion can bring out the best in you."

"It’s called growth," Kaia replied, her tone light, but there was a depth to it that made her words resonate. "The harder the challenge, the more you learn from it. Every experience, every fight, it shapes us into better heroes."

Mina, who had been listening in, suddenly perked up. "I don’t know about you guys, but I’m definitely looking forward to tomorrow. We’re all gonna kick more butt after all this, right?"

Kaia smiled, glancing over at Katsuki again. His earlier quiet mood hadn’t lasted long — it seemed like he was about to say something when Kaia’s seismic sense flared, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. She brushed it off, knowing that whatever it was, it didn’t matter in the moment. Instead, she turned her attention back to the group.

“Tomorrow’s going to be tough,” Kaia said thoughtfully, “but it’ll be a good test for everyone. We’ve all got a little more to prove, I think.”

Uraraka smiled and gave a nod of agreement. "That’s right. I think we’re all stronger than we even realize. Even after today."

"Especially after today," Kaia added with a grin.

There was a comfortable silence that followed, the sound of the water flowing and the occasional laughter from the others filling the air. The tension of the day had melted away completely, leaving only the peaceful atmosphere of the hot springs.

Kaia leaned her head back, letting her body relax into the water, the warmth surrounding her like a protective blanket. It had been a tough day, but she could already feel herself getting stronger with every challenge she faced, and the people she was training alongside were becoming more than just classmates — they were becoming friends.

“Kaia, don’t fall asleep on us!” Uraraka laughed, snapping her out of her reverie. “I know the day’s been long, but we still have dinner after this!”

Kaia’s eyes fluttered open, and she chuckled. “I’m not asleep. Just... resting my eyes.”

“You’re too much!” Asui giggled, her voice filled with amusement.

Kaia grinned back at them, "Alright, alright. I'll wake up."

The girls continued to chat, with more laughter and easy conversation filling the air. The exhaustion from the day’s training slowly faded, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and belonging. And for Kaia, it was moments like these that made everything worth it — the hard training, the endless challenges, and even the quiet struggles that sometimes felt overwhelming.

Here, in the calm of the hot springs, she felt at peace.

*****

Kaia slipped out of the sleeping area, the cool evening air greeting her as she wrapped herself in a jacket. She made her way over to the small bench nestled under the shadows of the trees, her phone in hand. The sun had set hours ago, and the sky was dotted with stars, but Kaia was too focused on the call she was about to make to notice the beauty of the night.

The gentle hum of the night creatures and the distant sounds of the camp settling down filled the air. She pulled out her phone, hesitated for a moment, and then dialed the number she knew by heart.

Her parents’ numbers had always been in her contacts, and though she’d grown accustomed to being away from them, there was still something comforting about hearing their voices after a long day.

A few rings later, the familiar voice of her mother answered.

“Kaia? Sweetheart, is everything okay? It’s late,” her mother’s warm voice asked, sounding a little surprised but clearly pleased.

Kaia smiled softly, letting the sound of her mother’s voice wash over her. “Hey, Mom. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to check in, let you know I’m doing okay here at camp. We’ve been training nonstop, but it’s been... good. I’m learning a lot.”

Her mother chuckled softly on the other end. “I bet you are. I know how hard you work. But, Kaia, remember to take care of yourself, okay? I know you can push yourself, but don’t overdo it.”

“I will, Mom, I promise,” Kaia replied, a small laugh escaping her. “We had a lot of fights today—class against class, and I’m feeling it, but it’s all good. We’re learning a lot about our strengths... and, well, some weaknesses too. But that’s how it goes, right?”

Her mother’s voice was warm with pride. “Exactly. It’s all part of growing. Just remember, even when it gets tough, we’re here for you, Kaia. We’re always just a call away.”

Kaia nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see it. "I know. I miss you both. It’s strange, you know? I’m getting used to being out here, but sometimes... I just miss hearing your voices. It’s different from being home."

There was a brief pause before her mother responded, her voice soft and knowing. “I understand, sweetheart. But we’re so proud of you. You’re growing into an incredible person, and I know this training will only make you stronger. Just remember to trust in yourself, okay? You’ve always had that strength inside you.”

Kaia felt a wave of warmth, hearing her mother’s words. It wasn’t just encouragement—it was the kind of reassurance only a parent could give, one that made Kaia feel grounded no matter how far away she was from home.

“I will, Mom. I’ve got this,” Kaia said with newfound confidence.

Her mother let out a small sigh, like a weight had been lifted. “I know you do. And don’t forget to reach out if you ever need to talk. We’re here. Your father and I both.”

“I won’t forget. Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, Kaia. Sleep well, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.”

Kaia smiled as she ended the call, the connection now silent but still holding that same sense of comfort. She stared up at the sky, her fingers tapping gently on her phone, still feeling the weight of her mother’s words.

She felt closer to home for a moment, a soft, familiar presence filling her chest.

Her phone buzzed softly in her hand, signaling a new message. It was a text from her dad.

Stay strong, Kaia. Proud of you.

She let out a contented breath, reading the message again before placing her phone back in her pocket.

For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the quiet of the night, the gentle wind stirring the trees around her.

As the sounds of the camp began to lull into quiet murmurs and she knew the others were heading to bed, Kaia stayed a little longer, letting the peace of the moment settle into her bones.

Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more training, and even more growth. But tonight, for this moment, she felt connected to both her past and her future, and that brought her a sense of calm that was all too rare.

After a few more minutes of quiet reflection, Kaia finally stood up, feeling at peace, and headed back toward the dormitory. The soft glow of the lights in the distance reminded her that there was still more ahead. But for tonight, she was grounded. She was at home in this space between her past and the future she was shaping, a future she knew her parents would be proud of.

With a contented sigh, she entered the building, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

The night air was crisp and cool, with a blanket of stars spread out across the sky. Class 1-A and 1-B stood in front of the dense forest, the towering trees casting long shadows in the fading light. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, and even the Wild Wild Pussycats—who were always upbeat and energetic—looked unusually serious as they stood in front of the students, preparing them for the test ahead.

Kaia stood in line with the rest of her classmates, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. She was no stranger to challenges, but there was something about the unknown, the dark forest, that set her senses on high alert. She was used to trusting her seismic sense, but with the darkness and the silence of the forest, she wondered just how much she'd be able to rely on it tonight. The idea of walking through the forest in pairs, no quirks allowed, was daunting enough on its own.

Mandalay stood in front of the group with a serious expression, her eyes scanning over the students. "Alright, everyone," she called out, her voice cutting through the night air. "Tonight's test is a test of courage. You will be walking through the forest in pairs, following the path. It will be dark, and there will be challenges along the way. You need to stick together, trust your partner, and stay calm."

The students murmured among themselves, some of them already apprehensive about the upcoming challenge. Kaia couldn't help but glance over at Katsuki, who was standing beside her. His usual fiery demeanor seemed muted tonight, and she could tell he was in his head, contemplating how he'd handle the test. Her thoughts were interrupted when Mandalay continued.

"Each pair will be walking through the forest and will encounter different obstacles designed to test your courage and ability to work together. It's not about winning, but about facing your fears and relying on each other. This is about trust. The pairs have already been chosen, and you will leave in the order we call out. Your time starts when you enter the forest. Are you ready?"

The students nodded, and Kaia felt a surge of adrenaline. Her heart was beating faster than usual, but she was determined to face whatever lay ahead. She glanced at her partner—Todoroki. Kaia had always admired Shoto’s cool-headed nature, and he seemed to value her determination and strength.

Mandalay called out the pairs, and Kaia’s name was called along with Shoto’s.

"Mikage and Todoroki, you're up. Good luck."

Shoto’s eyes briefly met hers, and Kaia offered a small, warm smile. Shoto, as stoic as ever, gave her a small nod, his face betraying no emotion, but she knew him well enough to see the flicker of encouragement in his gaze.

As they made their way toward the entrance to the forest, others followed behind them in pairs, some students already expressing their unease. Kaia felt her heart race, but she kept her breathing steady, trying to calm her nerves. She was ready. The forest loomed ahead, dark and quiet, like a vast unknown waiting to swallow them whole.

The sound of their footsteps crunching on the dry leaves and twigs was the only noise as Kaia and Shoto stepped into the forest. The path was narrow, lined with trees that towered above them, their branches blocking out most of the moonlight. It was eerily silent, and the darkness felt almost oppressive, pressing down on her.

"I’ll take the lead," Shoto said, his voice low but steady. "Stay close."

Kaia nodded and followed his lead. Though they had spent time together before, there was something different about the air tonight. Her seismic sense, usually so reliable, was strangely muffled in the dense, unnatural silence of the forest. But she knew she could rely on her other senses, and with Shoto at her side, she felt a sense of security.

As they walked deeper into the forest, the silence was broken by strange noises—rustling leaves, distant howls, the crunch of twigs underfoot. Kaia couldn’t help but feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her heart thudded in her chest as she stayed close to Shoto, her hand reaching out instinctively to keep herself steady as she followed his movements.

Shoto seemed unfazed by the eerie quiet, his eyes scanning the dark ahead, focused and alert. Kaia could sense that he wasn’t just physically prepared but mentally prepared for whatever the test might throw at them. They were both used to high-pressure situations, though this one felt different. She trusted him. He trusted her.

They reached a clearing, and Kaia’s senses flared. There was something about the place—it felt… off. The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift, the earth beneath the surface trembling with a strange energy. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but it unsettled her. Something was wrong.

"Wait," Kaia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something’s not right."

Shoto stopped, sensing her unease. He turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area. "What is it?"

"I don’t know," Kaia replied, narrowing her eyes. "It feels like the ground is shifting. But... it’s not just that. It’s the quiet. It’s like someone is... watching us."

The silence deepened around them, and Kaia’s pulse quickened. She could feel something—or someone—lurking just beyond the shadows, but the vibrations were too faint to make sense of.

Suddenly, there was a loud rustle behind them. Kaia spun around, her heart racing, her body tense. The noise came from a thicket of trees just to their left. Before she could react, something—or someone—lunged out from the darkness.

It was a figure, half-hidden in the shadows, with glowing eyes that flickered in the dim light. Kaia instinctively stepped back, her pulse racing as she readied herself for whatever was coming.

But before she could even think about fighting back, Shoto reacted. His ice powers surged to life, freezing the ground beneath the figure’s feet, trapping it in place before it could advance further.

Kaia took a deep breath, her heart still pounding in her chest as the figure struggled against the ice. “Is that part of the test?” she asked, her voice shaky but determined.

Shoto glanced at her, his expression calm as ever. “It seems like it. Let’s keep moving.”

With that, the two of them continued down the path, Kaia’s senses still alert as she remained close to Shoto, the forest still pressing in around them. The test of courage wasn’t just about walking through the dark—there were more dangers hidden in the shadows, testing their ability to stay calm and rely on each other.

Her unease only grew as the seconds passed. Despite her best efforts to rely on her seismic sense, she couldn’t get a proper read on the surroundings. She knelt, her palm pressed firmly to the ground, but the usual vibrations she was so attuned to were absent, replaced by a faint, unfamiliar hum that set her nerves on edge. The ground felt off, almost too still, as if something was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting.

It was then that a wave of déjà vu hit her—an unmistakable sensation that she hadn’t felt in years, but one that had haunted her since the first time the portal appeared at the USJ. The same eerie, foreboding feeling. Something wasn’t right.

Kaia’s eyes widened in realization. “Shoto,” she said urgently, her voice sharp. She stood up quickly, brushing the dirt from her knees. “We need to get back to camp. Now.”

Shoto, who had been calmly scanning the surroundings with his usual composed demeanor, immediately picked up on the urgency in her tone. His sharp gaze met hers, and without a word, he nodded in agreement. The forest that had once felt like a challenge to navigate now felt like a trap, and they both knew they were no longer just part of the test. Something was wrong—dangerously wrong.

They turned on their heels, ready to make their way back to camp, but as they began to move, Kaia’s eyes caught something in the distance. Smoke. Rising up through the trees in a thick column, the dark, ominous plumes curling into the night sky. It was a signal of something far more urgent than a mere test of courage.

“Shoto…” Kaia’s voice trailed off, her thoughts racing. “That’s not part of the test.”

Todoroki followed her gaze, his expression immediately hardening. The once tranquil forest now seemed hostile, the air thick with tension. He didn’t need to say anything; the gravity of the situation was clear. Without a second thought, he took the lead, breaking into a brisk pace as Kaia followed closely behind, her senses heightened as she tried to pick up on anything else—anything that might explain the smoke or what was causing the strange feeling in her gut.

They moved quickly, weaving between trees and avoiding obstacles in their path, but the smoke seemed to grow thicker, and the further they went, the more unsettling the atmosphere became. Kaia’s heart pounded in her chest as she began to sense an increasing vibration beneath her feet, but it wasn’t the familiar pulse of life she’d grown so accustomed to. This was something else—something deeper, darker.

“I don’t like this,” Kaia murmured, her voice tense. “It’s like they’re here, but they’re not...”

Her words hung in the air as they continued their trek. Every instinct Kaia had screamed that they were walking into something far more dangerous than a simple test. This wasn’t just a challenge from the Wild Wild Pussycats. It was something far more sinister.

The sound of distant shouting and the crackle of flames soon reached their ears, and Kaia felt her heart lurch in her chest. They were close now—too close.

As they broke through the final line of trees, the source of the smoke became clear. Up ahead, they could see the camp, but it was no longer the calm, quiet place they had left behind. Flames were licking up the sides of tents, the blue glow casting long shadows across the area. There was chaos—students running, shouting, and teachers fighting back against what appeared to be unknown assailants.

Kaia’s stomach twisted as she took in the scene, her mind racing to make sense of what was happening. But before she could process more, she caught a glimpse of familiar figures among the chaos—her classmates, all seemingly scrambling to defend themselves.

“This isn’t a drill,” Kaia whispered under her breath, her voice full of urgency.

Todoroki’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the scene, his ice powers flickering to life around his hands. "We need to help. Now."

Without wasting another second, he surged forward, his ice expanding rapidly beneath his feet as he used it to propel himself toward the camp. Kaia followed close behind, adrenaline pumping through her veins, her mind already processing the situation. Her seismic sense, while still muffled, had picked up enough to know that something—or someone—had triggered this chaos. The vibrations from earlier were now growing stronger, but they were erratic.

They reached the edge of the camp, and Kaia’s instincts screamed at her to act. She glanced around quickly, spotting the teachers doing their best to fight off attackers. There were figures in dark uniforms, attacking with an unnerving level of precision.

“Stay close,” Kaia said to Shoto as she took a step forward, her mind already focused on the fight ahead. “We need to make sure no one gets hurt.”

He nodded in agreement, his gaze scanning the camp, his body poised for action. He wasn’t the type to show his emotions easily, but Kaia could sense the anger simmering beneath the surface, the protective instinct that had been there since their first meeting.

Kaia moved forward, her hands contracting faintly as she prepared to tap into her quirk. The ground beneath her feet shifted, and she was ready to spring into action when suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind her.

“Mikage! Todoroki!”

She turned quickly to see Aizawa, his expression grim but determined, standing at the edge of the chaos. His presence was a small relief, but she could see the tension in his posture.

“We’ll handle this,” Aizawa said, his voice firm. “Stay focused. Go and find your classmates, some are still in the forest. Don’t engage unless necessary.”

Kaia nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t need further explanation. They were under attack, and their priority was protecting the students—keeping everyone safe until they could find out who was behind this, and why.

Kaia’s heart raced as Aizawa’s words sank in. There were still students lost in the forest, separated from the chaos at camp. Aizawa’s calm demeanor only intensified the urgency of the situation.

Kaia didn't hesitate. With Todoroki at her side, they both sprinted into the dark forest, moving swiftly between trees, their eyes scanning for any sign of their missing classmates. Kaia’s senses were already on high alert, her mind working quickly as she tried to feel for any vibrations in the ground. But something was off—her seismic sense had become erratic, her usual ability to pinpoint energy pulses feeling jumbled and out of sync.

As they moved deeper into the forest, the air grew thick with tension, and Kaia’s instincts screamed that something was very wrong. Her gaze darted around, waiting for a sign, a tremor that would lead them to their classmates. That’s when it happened—the earth beneath her feet suddenly shook.

Kaia’s eyes widened, and she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart thumping in her chest. They were here.

Her seismic sense flared into overdrive, flooding her with overwhelming vibrations that felt like a tIdal wave crashing against her. She blinked, trying to focus, and there it was—Kurogiri. She could feel the distorted energy of his portal quirk, faint but unmistakable. And then—Shigaraki. Even from a distance, the violent, chaotic pulse of his quirk was unmistakable.

Kaia’s breath caught in her throat, but she quickly pushed the fear down. They weren’t close, but they were here. Still, that wasn’t the worst of it. As she focused, her senses spread out, and something else reached her. Recruits.

Her mind spun as she processed what this meant. If Shigaraki and Kurogiri had recruited others, then it wasn’t just the two of them. There were others involved—others who were no doubt dangerous, their quirks unrecognizable but powerful. The situation was far worse than she'd originally thought.

"We need to keep moving," Kaia muttered to Todoroki, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s them—Shigaraki and Kurogiri. They’ve got others with them.”

Todoroki nodded without hesitation. His ice powers rippled at the ready, his body tense, prepared for any attack. Together, they dashed through the forest, weaving through the trees as the growing sense of danger closed in on them.

But before they could go any further, the distant sound of footsteps reached their ears. Kaia’s body immediately went still, and Todoroki followed suit. She turned, sensing the presence of two familiar figures approaching through the darkness. The vibrations in the air were suddenly clear, and Kaia exhaled in relief as she felt the familiar pulse of their quirk energy.

“Katsuki! Ida!” Kaia called out, her voice cutting through the tense air. “Over here!”

A few moments later, the figures of Katsuki and Idacame into view. Ida’s running style was unmistakable, his rapid footfalls cutting through the stillness, and Katsuki’s usual fiery aura seemed to flicker in the darkness, even more intense than usual.

"Mikage, Todoroki," Idasaid, relief evident in his voice as he caught sight of them. "What’s going on? What happened back at the camp? We heard explosions. We—"

Katsuki cut him off with a growl, his eyes narrowing. "This isn’t the time for questions. What the hell’s happening? Where are the others?"

Kaia stepped forward, quickly explaining what she had sensed. “Shigaraki and Kurogiri are here. They’re not close, but they’ve got recruits. It’s bad.”

Katsuki's face darkened at the mention of Shigaraki, his usual fiery attitude now tempered with a steely resolve. He cracked his knuckles. “Then let’s not waste time talking. We need to get back to camp and protect everyone. Now.”

Idanodded, his eyes flashing with determination. “You’re right. Let’s move. We can’t let them get any closer.”

The four of them moved in unison, each of them keenly aware of the gravity of the situation. Kaia’s senses were still on edge as they pushed forward, her mind trying to filter through the chaotic vibrations around them. She could sense the presence of others in the distance—more of them. It was impossible to pin down exact locations, but she could feel the increasing ripple of energy across the terrain, a dangerous undercurrent that grew with every passing second.

“We need to be careful,” Kaia said, her voice low.

Todoroki, always a quiet force, kept his pace steady, his eyes scanning ahead. "We'll handle it," he said simply, his voice unwavering. But Kaia could sense the weight in his words. This wasn’t just any skirmish. It was something much more serious.

The four of them sprinted through the dense forest, hearts pounding against their ribs, their ears tuned to every rustle of leaves and crack of branches. The night air was thick with smoke and tension, their footsteps light but urgent on the dirt path.

That’s when Mandalay’s voice suddenly echoed in their minds — her quirk transmitting directly into their heads:

“Students, listen carefully — the League of Villains is here. Do not engage unless instructed. They’ve come for someone named ‘Kacchan.’ Wherever you are, you need to return to camp immediately. Everyone, if you find your classmates, stick together and make your way back safely.”

The message hit like a bolt of lightning.

Kaia’s eyes snapped wide, her chest tightening. Her mind raced. Izuku. He must’ve told them. There was no other way Mandalay would’ve known about the target. She didn’t have time to process the weight of it because the forest was still alive with danger, and they had to move.

Katsuki, however, skidded slightly, scowling, his jaw tightening the moment he heard Mandalay's words. His pride flared hot in his chest, but Kaia could see the shadow of something else in his eyes — not fear, but focus.

“We’re wasting time,” Katsuki growled. “We move. Now.”

But Kaia suddenly threw her arm out across Katsuki’s chest, stopping him cold. She felt it before it happened — a strange shift in the air, the ground vibrating in a way that didn’t match the surrounding chaos.

Someone was approaching. Slow, deliberate footsteps from the shadowy treeline.

From the darkness, a figure emerged — tall and lean, with wild, unkempt hair and a ragged, predator-like smile stretched across his face. His sharp eyes glinted with something almost manic as he stepped closer, and the moment Kaia locked eyes with him, a cold shiver ran down her spine.

The man tilted his head, sniffing the air, his gaze locking back onto her like a predator sizing up prey.

“Ah...” His voice was low, gravelly, but disturbingly calm. “You smell different... Not like the rest of these kids.”

Kaia’s stomach knotted, every part of her body tensing.

The man licked his lips and smiled wider, his teeth suddenly elongating, shifting into jagged, blade-like fangs that gleamed under the faint moonlight.

“I want to eat your flesh.”

The words were like ice through her veins — before anyone could respond, those blade-like teeth shot forward, separating from his mouth like projectiles, sharp and deadly, aimed directly for the group.

“Move!” Kaia shouted, shoving Katsuki to the side and leaping back with Todoroki and Idaas the blade-teeth zipped past, slamming into the ground and slicing deep grooves into the dirt where they had just been standing.

Todoroki was already countering, ice erupting from the ground in thick sheets, creating a wall between them and the villain, giving them a second to regroup. Idastood defensively in front of Kaia and Katsuki, arms poised, his engines roaring as if ready to bolt at the slightest command.

The man behind the wall didn’t seem fazed. His chuckle was low and unsettling, the sound of it bleeding through the gaps in the ice.

“Don’t run,” the man teased, voice echoing like a taunt. “You’ll only make me hungrier.”

Kaia’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, her seismic sense flaring again as she read the vibrations of the earth, trying to track any other hidden threats — but this man’s presence was overwhelming, the pressure of his bloodlust warping the space around them.

Katsuki’s hands sparked, his teeth clenched as he growled out, “You all go. I’ll blow this freak into the dirt.”

Kaia immediately shook her head, her voice firm and clear. “No. We stick together. That’s what Mandalay said. He wants you, Katsuki — they all do. Splitting up now is exactly what they want.”

Her words hit him, and for once, Katsuki didn’t argue. His jaw tightened, but he nodded.

Todoroki, steady as ever, pressed a hand to the ground. “On my signal, run. I’ll give us cover.”

Kaia glanced at Katsuki and Ida, both of them ready, and braced herself for the moment to move — her mind sharp, already planning the route back to camp.

Todoroki didn’t hesitate — the moment Kaia gave the signal, his right hand flared to life, a brilliant wave of fire bursting forward and engulfing Moonfish in searing heat. The villain hissed, twisting his body back into the shadows, the blade-teeth retracting as he dodged, giving the four students the split-second window they needed.

“Now!” Todoroki shouted, and all four sprinted away from the clearing, feet pounding the earth.

But they barely made it a few meters before the night air was shattered by a deep, bone-rattling ROAR — a sound so loud and wild it felt like it rattled the forest to its roots.

Kaia skidded to a halt, head snapping upward. From the treetops, something huge and monstrous burst through the branches: Dark Shadow — but out of control, even larger and more feral than usual. The living shadow lashed out, smashing apart trees like they were nothing but twigs, its movements wild and unpredictable.

It swooped down, far too close, its eyes glowing a violent, unrecognizable shade of red.

“Dark Shadow?” Kaia gasped under her breath, but there was no mistaking it — this wasn’t the quiet, loyal quirk they knew. This was a creature let loose.

From the darkness behind it, Shoji suddenly emerged, muscles straining, sprinting through the forest with everything he had. Clinging tightly to his back was Izuku, both of his arms bent unnaturally, clearly broken — his face twisted in pain, but still conscious. And behind Shoji, Tokoyami was slumped against him, his body trembling, eyes distant and unfocused.

“Shoji!” Idacalled out, moving to help, but they barely had time to react.

Moonfish appeared again, leaping from the shadows with his mouth-blades already stretching out, aiming to strike while they were distracted.

But Dark Shadow — sensing the danger in its berserk state — whipped around and lunged at Moonfish without hesitation. The shadow monster slammed into him with such force that Moonfish was knocked clear off his feet, crashing into a tree and crumpling to the ground, finally unconscious.

The immediate threat was gone, but Dark Shadow wasn’t calming down. It hovered over the group, screeching, its form flickering violently, trapped between defending and attacking again.

Kaia’s heart raced as she stepped forward, her seismic sense picking up on Tokoyami’s frantic heartbeat — the poor boy was still overwhelmed by fear, unable to rein in his quirk.

“Katsuki! Shoto!” she called sharply.

The two boys didn’t even need her to finish.

Katsuki raised his hand, a concentrated blast of explosions firing off just enough to force Dark Shadow back. Todoroki followed with another wave of flame, washing the area in light and heat. The combination forced the creature to hesitate, the shadows pulling tighter and tighter until finally — with one last pained screech — Dark Shadow retreated back into Tokoyami, folding into his body.

Tokoyami crumpled to his knees, panting hard, sweat streaking his face, the fear finally ebbing away.

Kaia rushed to his side, placing a steady hand on his shoulder, her voice low but comforting.
“You’re okay now... you pulled him back.”

Idaknelt beside Shoji and Izuku, carefully helping support Izuku’s weight as Shoji’s muscles finally gave out from carrying two classmates at once.

Todoroki kept his eyes sharp on the treeline, Katsuki standing at his side, both of them still tense.

Kaia looked around at the group, her breath steadying.

“We need to move, all of us — the villains aren’t done yet.” She glanced at Katsuki, her heart heavy, knowing he was still the target.

The group pressed on through the dense forest, their pace slowed to a cautious crawl. Izuku, his arms limp and splinted by Shoji’s makeshift wrappings, clenched his jaw through the pain. Tokoyami walked stiffly, his eyes still unfocused, his body worn down from the battle with his own quirk. Kaia stuck close to the front, her seismic sense stretched as wide as she could manage, every muscle in her body tight with anticipation.

Katsuki, walking a few paces behind, had his usual scowl locked in place, even as the rest of them exchanged quiet words.

“We need a plan,” Idamurmured, adjusting his grip on Izuku’s shoulder to help steady him. “Bakugo is their target. We can’t let them take him.”

Katsuki let out a sharp tch, glaring at the ground. “Like hell I’m gonna let anyone take me. Stop wasting your breath.”

“We’re not wasting it,” Todoroki said coolly from Kaia’s side. “The League’s here for you. Whether you like it or not, we have to cover each other.”

Kaia’s voice was softer, but steady. “You’re strong, Katsuki, but even you can’t take them all on alone.”

Katsuki didn’t answer this time, just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, lips drawn into a tight line.

The woods around them grew eerily quiet, the usual chirps of night insects and distant rustling of leaves suddenly absent. Kaia’s chest tightened. She slowed to a stop, her head tilting slightly as she lowered her palm to the ground.

“…Something’s off,” she whispered, her seismic sense flaring out like ripples across a still pond.

But before she could finish her warning, the world twisted.

In an instant, the group’s formation broke apart. Shoji, Ida, and Izuku whipped around — but Katsuki, Tokoyami, and Kaia were simply gone.

“Kaia?” Todoroki called out, pivoting sharply.

A rustle of branches snapped their attention upwards as a figure leapt from the treetops, landing lightly on a thick branch. Dressed in a flamboyant, old-fashioned magician’s suit and mask, the stranger tipped his hat with theatrical flair.

“Ah, pardon the intrusion! The name’s Mr. Compress,” the man announced with mock courtesy, voice light and almost amused. “And it seems I’ve gone and captured your dear friends!”

From the folds of his cloak, he held out his gloved hand — revealing three small, marble-like spheres nestled in his palm. Inside, the swirling glass glinted, faint shadows shifting within them.

“Quite the magic trick, don’t you think?” Mr. Compress chuckled, pocketing the spheres with a quick, fluid motion. “And now, if you’ll excuse me— I’ve got a prize to deliver!”

Before anyone could react, he tipped his hat once more and vanished into the darkness, leaping away through the treetops with the speed of a seasoned escape artist.

The remaining students were frozen for a second, the shock setting in like ice water. Izuku’s stomach dropped.
“They took them…” he whispered hoarsely.

Todoroki’s fists clenched, his expression darkening as he stared at the empty branch.
“We have to go after them. Now.”

And without wasting another second, the battered but determined group raced after the disappearing trail, hearts pounding with dread and resolve.

*****

As they sprinted through the darkened forest, the tension in the air was suffocating — every second they spent chasing Mr. Compress felt like another moment too long. The thought of Mikage, Bakugo, and Tokoyami trapped in those tiny marbles lit a fire under the group’s feet.

As they rounded a sharp bend, two more figures emerged from the brush — Uraraka and Asui, wide-eyed and out of breath.

“Midoriya!” Uraraka called. “What’s going on? We heard the message from Mandalay — then we saw the smoke and—”

“They’ve got Mikage, Bakugo, and Tokoyami!” Shoji cut in, voice grim and urgent. “Mr. Compress—he’s the one who took them!”

Uraraka’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively balling into fists. Tsuyu’s mouth flattened into a rare, serious line as her long tongue flicked with tension.

“Let us help,” Asui said simply, stepping up beside them without hesitation.

Midoriya’s mind was racing. Mr. Compress was moving too fast, leaping through the treetops like a shadow. They’d never catch him at this rate — not on foot.

But then his eyes snapped wide, an idea sparking to life.

“Uraraka — you can make us float, right? And Tsuyu, you can launch us with your tongue?”

Both girls blinked, realizing immediately where he was going.

“I’ll make Shoji, Todoroki, and Deku weightless,” Uraraka said, already stepping forward. “Tsuyu, you’re up.”

“Ribbit. Got it.”

Shoji tensed his muscles, readying himself. Todoroki stood calm but sharp, the frost on his side already misting the air. Midoriya, even with both arms a mess of bruises and breaks, nodded grimly.

With quick efficiency, Uraraka tapped the three boys — gravity fading from them instantly. Tsuyu looped her tongue around Shoji’s broad shoulders, coiling tightly like a spring, before she stretched back as far as she could manage.

“Hold on,” she croaked.

With one powerful, elastic snap — FWIP! — she launched the three into the sky, hurling them high over the trees like a human slingshot.

Wind screamed past them as Midoriya squinted against the rush, scanning the treetops — and there he was. The flicker of a black cloak, Mr. Compress vaulting through the forest like a phantom.

“There!” Midoriya shouted, signaling to Shoji.

As they neared, Todoroki didn’t waste a second — his hand lit with flames and ice, sending a sharp blast of cold toward the villain’s path. The sudden layer of ice forced Mr. Compress to shift, slowing just enough for Shoji to extend his arms, stretching wide like a net.

WHAM!
The three of them crashed into Mr. Compress, slamming him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and broken branches.

Pinned beneath Shoji’s powerful grip, Mr. Compress let out a strained laugh, more amused than alarmed.

“Well played, children,” he mused, twisting slightly in Shoji’s hold. “But the game’s not over just yet.”

Midoriya’s eyes shot to the man’s coat, searching desperately for the marbles, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

They had to get Kaia, Bakugo, and Tokoyami back — now.

Izuku’s heart was hammering so hard he thought his ribs might crack. Shoji held the small marbles tightly in his hands, and for one brief moment, relief washed through them — they’d done it. They’d stopped Mr. Compress. They had their friends back.

But the villain’s laughter, smooth and sharp, cut through the dark like a blade.

“Impressive,” Mr. Compress mused, straightening his top hat as he dusted himself off. “But you heroes-in-training forgot one important rule...”

Before anyone could react, a swirling portal bloomed open behind him — the warped, violet mist crackling as another figure stepped through. The man was tall, lean, and disturbingly calm. His patchwork skin, riddled with staples and raw scars, glowed faintly in the moonlight.

Dabi.

His mismatched, pale blue eyes flicked over the students, settling coldly on them as Mr. Compress casually reached into his coat and snapped his fingers.

In a flash, the marbles glowed and burst apart — Kaia and Tokoyami hit the ground, both dazed but conscious, appearing right where the students stood.

Izuku barely had time to breathe out their names — "Kaia! Tokoyami!" — before his stomach dropped.

Because the third marble, the last one they held... was a fake.

A few feet away, a flash of orange and black flickered into view — Katsuki Bakugo.

His fierce scowl was locked on the two villains, already building an explosion in his palm, ready to fight his way free. But Dabi was quicker. In one smooth motion, the villain stepped forward and placed his burned, stapled hand around Bakugo’s neck, tightening just enough to hold him still without scorching him.

Bakugo snarled, teeth clenched, his hands flaring with sparks. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

The violet mist curled around their feet as Kurogiri’s portal expanded — swirling higher, faster, swallowing them whole.

“Kacchan!” Kaia and Izuku shouted at the same time, reaching out, feet already scrambling forward.

But it was too late.

With one final flicker, the portal sealed shut, and the clearing was left eerily silent, save for the sounds of heavy breathing and the distant crackle of burning trees.

Bakugo was gone.

Kaia stood frozen, heart pounding in her chest as the others slowly came to terms with what just happened. Her hands trembled at her sides, fists curling tight as her seismic sense dulled — like a part of her had been pulled away, out of reach.

Todoroki stepped closer, his expression grim but steady, placing a hand on her shoulder to anchor her back to the moment.

Mandalay’s voice suddenly echoed through their heads, sharp and strained.

"All students, report. Evacuate the forest immediately. I repeat — return to camp. The villains have retreated."

Kaia’s throat tightened, but she nodded, swallowing her anger and fear for now.

They had to go back. They had to regroup.

As the group slowly turned to head back toward camp, the weight of Bakugo’s abduction still hung heavy in the air. No one spoke, their bodies moving on autopilot, bruised and battered but determined to make it back. Kaia lingered near the rear, walking beside Izuku — his face pale, jaw clenched tight, barely able to hold it together.

She stayed close to him, trying to keep her mind steady, even as the growing silence felt deafening. Her seismic sense buzzed faintly under her skin, like static, but her focus was so clouded with worry for Katsuki she almost missed it.

Almost.

The telltale warp of air sent a cold chill down her spine — too late.

A swirling portal bloomed open behind them, violet and cold. Dabi’s scarred torso leaned out, his expression as calm as ever, though his pale eyes gleamed with quiet malice.

“Whoops,” he said, voice smooth and taunting, “almost forgot something.”

Before Kaia could move, his hand shot out — strong, iron-tight fingers locking around her arm.

“Kaia—!” Izuku shouted, spinning around, lunging for her — but Dabi yanked her back hard into the swirling mist. The last thing she saw was Izuku’s outstretched hand, his eyes wide with panic.

And then the portal snapped shut.

The clearing was silent once more, except for Izuku’s voice breaking through the stillness, hoarse and desperate.

“KAIA!”

The group stopped short, their hearts sinking, turning to see only the empty space where she’d been standing — the reality sinking in like a punch to the gut.

First Katsuki.

Now Kaia.

The League of Villains had taken them both.

The group stumbled out of the forest, battered, bruised, and defeated. Their pace slowed as they finally reached the edge of the campgrounds where floodlights illuminated the once peaceful clearing. The teachers were waiting, faces tight with worry, along with emergency medics who had arrived to tend to the injured.

As soon as the medics rushed forward, Izuku and Todoroki waved them off for a moment, the urgency in their expressions halting everyone in their tracks. Aizawa’s sharp eyes scanned the group, immediately noticing the two missing.

“Where’s Bakugo?” he asked, though his tone suggested he already feared the answer.

Izuku’s throat felt like it was closing up, but he forced the words out, his voice cracking.

“They took him, Sensei. The League of Villains… they took Kacchan.”

The weight of the sentence was crushing, but before the shock could settle, Shoji, his voice low but clear, added another blow.

“And Kaia… Mikage’s gone too. They took her.”

The camp seemed to fall dead silent. Even the medics, who were carefully treating the others, paused for a beat. Aizawa’s face, usually stoic, twitched ever so slightly, his fists clenching at his sides. Vlad King’s expression darkened, glancing toward Mandalay and Tiger, both of whom looked pale and stunned.

“They planned this,” Aizawa muttered, voice grim. “They knew exactly who they were after.”

Midnight stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder, trying to steady him. “What happened?” she asked softly.

Izuku swallowed hard, doing his best to walk them through the encounter, from the test of courage being interrupted to the villains appearing one after the other, the fight with Moonfish, Dark Shadow’s rampage, Mr. Compress’s ambush, and the final crushing moment when both Katsuki and Kaia were taken right in front of their eyes.

As Izuku spoke, Aizawa’s expression grew darker, each word confirming the League’s precision and ruthlessness.

“You all did the right thing not fighting recklessly,” Aizawa finally said once Izuku finished. “I know this wasn’t the outcome anyone wanted — but you stayed together, you protected each other. That’s what a hero does. And we will get them back.”

His voice was firm, anchoring the shaken students as much as it was a promise.

Todoroki, standing nearby with his fists clenched in quiet frustration, locked eyes with Aizawa and nodded, the same determination burning behind his gaze.

“We’ll get them back,” he echoed.

And with that, the teachers gathered, immediately preparing to alert the pro-heroes and authorities.

*****

In the quiet, dimly lit Mikage living room, the television flickered with a breaking news alert — scenes of the wooded training camp lit up the screen, smoke and chaos painting a grim picture. Amara sat frozen on the couch, her hand clutching tightly at the necklace Kaia had given her years ago. Beside her, Zaire stared hard at the broadcast, his jaw tight, trying to piece together what little information the reporters offered.

Neither of them had heard from Kaia all day, which wasn’t unusual during training — but the sick feeling twisting in both their stomachs was unmistakable.

Zaire’s phone rang, the sharp sound slicing through the tense silence.

He snatched it up without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

Aizawa’s voice came through, low and grave.
“Mr. Mikage. I need you to listen carefully.”
Zaire’s heart sank at the tone alone.

“The League of Villains ambushed the camp. Your daughter... Kaia’s been abducted. Along with Bakugo.”

For a moment, Zaire couldn’t breathe. His hand slowly lowered the phone from his ear as the words sank in. Amara, watching his expression, already knew before he could speak.

Zaire swallowed hard, his voice barely holding steady as he turned to her.
“They took her.”

Amara’s face crumpled the second the words left his mouth, a sob tearing through her chest as Zaire pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. His own tears welled, but he forced them back, trying to be the anchor even as his world cracked beneath him.

The sudden, frantic ringing of the doorbell startled them both. Amara wiped her face as Zaire rushed to the door. The moment he opened it, he was met with the exhausted, devastated faces of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugo, both still in their pajamas, clearly having rushed over the second they heard.

Mitsuki’s face was streaked with tears, her voice trembling as she spoke, “Zaire... they took Katsuki.”

Her words were met with a solemn nod from Zaire, his throat too tight to answer. Amara appeared behind him, still wiping at her tears, and the two families embraced in the doorway, united by the same overwhelming fear for their children.

For the rest of the night, the Mikage house stayed lit — the TV muted but left on, phones within reach, the parents sitting together in silence and hope, waiting for news of the children they loved.

Chapter Text

Kaia’s eyelids fluttered open, her head heavy and swimming from whatever they’d drugged her with. The dim light in the room blurred her vision, and for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. The last thing she could clearly recall was the forest — the League of Villains ambushing the training camp — and then... nothing.

She shifted slightly on the bed, surprised by how soft the mattress was, and immediately felt resistance at her ankle. Looking down, her heart dropped. A thick, polished cuff secured her to the bedframe. She pressed her palm against it, instinctively reaching for her quirk — but nothing. Not even a flicker of response.

Her foggy brain clicked into place. Platinum. The only metal refined enough to resist her control. They’d done their homework. She was trapped, and even if her strength was back, that cuff wasn’t budging.

The door creaked open, and Kaia’s head snapped up, alert despite the pounding behind her eyes. A figure stepped inside, silhouetted against the hallway light. The girl closed the door behind her with a soft click and turned toward Kaia, her yellow eyes wide and gleaming with childlike curiosity.

“Aw, you’re awake!” the girl chimed, her voice sweet but unsettlingly cheerful. “I was starting to think I gave you too much.”

Kaia’s gaze sharpened, even through the haze. She knew that face — the sharp fangs peeking from her smile, the knife tucked casually into her belt. Himiko Toga.

Toga skipped over, perching on the edge of the bed like they were old friends catching up. “You’re so cute when you’re all confused like that,” she giggled. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up! Everyone else was busy with that spiky blond boy, but I wanted to see you first.”

Kaia stayed silent, biting back the exhaustion and forcing her mind to stay clear. Toga tilted her head, her playful smile widening.

“They made sure to use platinum. Smart, huh?” she said lightly, tapping her finger against the cuff on Kaia’s ankle. “You heroes — always so tough. But now you’re stuck, just like a little butterfly in a jar.”

Her voice softened, but the sharpness behind it remained. “You should rest up. You’ll need your strength. They’ve got plans for you, Mikage.”

Kaia’s stomach tightened at the sound of her name coming from Toga’s mouth, but she stayed calm, steadying her breath. Plans or not — she wasn’t going to make this easy for them.

The door creaked open again, breaking the silence that hung heavy between Kaia and Toga. Kaia's head turned sluggishly toward the sound, her body still weak, her mind on high alert despite the fog dulling her senses.

A man stepped into the room this time, wearing a patchwork mask and baggy clothes — his voice familiar from the news reports. Twice.

“Hey, hey,” he called out casually, holding a tray in his gloved hands. “Brought you some grub. Boss says you gotta stay fed. Can't have you wasting away on us.” His voice bounced between lighthearted and serious, that strange, disjointed tone of his quirks shining through.

Kaia eyed the tray, her stomach twisting painfully at the scent of food. A simple sandwich and a bottle of water. She wanted to ignore it — to show defiance — but the hunger clawing at her insides had other ideas. Slowly, she reached for the sandwich, her cuff rattling faintly against the bedframe, and took a small, cautious bite.

Twice settled against the wall, watching her with something almost close to sympathy, if that was even possible for a villain. “Master said we gotta make sure you’re comfortable. Can’t have you all bruised and broken, right?” His tone lightened, but the words sat heavy in Kaia’s ears. “Of course, there’s a catch. Always is.”

Before Kaia could react, she felt it — the sharp sting of a needle prick against her thigh. Her hand snapped down instinctively, but it was already too late. Toga stood beside her, playful grin intact, holding the empty syringe like it was some kind of prize.

“There we go! You’ll feel all floaty again soon,” Toga hummed, twirling the needle between her fingers.

Kaia’s vision began to blur at the edges, her muscles going soft and unresponsive. The room dulled, the sharp details melting into shadows. Her seismic sense — always humming at the back of her mind, always aware — began to fade away, retreating like the tide pulling back from the shore.

The last thing she heard was the faint sound of Twice’s voice, low and almost regretful.

“Don’t fight it, kid. It’s easier this way.”

Then the world went quiet.

The hours passed in a haze. Kaia drifted in and out of consciousness, her head heavy, her body still dulled by whatever they had pumped into her. The faint sound of muffled voices, footsteps beyond the door, and the occasional creak of old wood echoed through her dimly lit room.

Then the door opened.

This time the air shifted — sharp, suffocating — as if the temperature dropped. Kaia’s eyes fluttered open, her senses slow but still sparking with instinctual fear. The man who stepped inside wasn’t like the others. Pale hair like snow, sickly gray-blue skin, his body slouched but his presence sharp as a blade.

Tomura Shigaraki.

He crouched beside the bed, his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers with a lazy yet predatory focus. His voice was low and raspy, yet every word felt like a thread tightening around her throat.

“You’re awake. Good,” he murmured, idly flexing his gloved fingers. “You’ve probably figured it out by now, right? You’re not here by accident, Mikage.” He let her name linger on his tongue like a twisted joke.

Kaia’s breathing steadied, though the pulse in her neck betrayed her fear. She stayed quiet, not trusting her voice.

Shigaraki’s head tilted slightly, as if amused by her silence. “You’re going to help us. That’s why you’re here.” He leaned in closer, his cracked lips pulling into a faint, unsettling smile. “Help us get what we want.”

He stood up slowly, dragging his fingers along the metal bedframe as he circled her like a cat toying with its prey. “Don’t worry about your classmate — Bakugo. He’s still alive. Still in the building. We wouldn’t break our new toy so soon.”

Her chest tightened. A small flicker of relief at the mention of Bakugo, even if it was wrapped in menace.

And then, he stopped right in front of her. His hand lifted slowly, reaching for her neck. Four fingers touched her skin — cold, gloved, but the fifth stayed hovering in the air. A deliberate gesture.

Her breath hitched. She knew exactly what that meant.

“If you behave, things won’t have to get... messy,” Shigaraki whispered, his voice almost playful, but the threat cut sharper than any blade. “But if you step out of line — you know what happens.”

He let his fingers linger a second longer, then pulled away, turning for the door.

“We’ll talk again soon. You’ve got potential, Mikage. Don’t waste it.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Kaia alone with the cold silence, her mind racing with the weight of what lay ahead.

*****

Elsewhere in the same building, Bakugo sat on the edge of a worn but surprisingly clean bed, his fists clenched tightly on his knees. The room around him wasn’t some dark, damp cell — it was almost too normal. The bed was comfortable, there was a small desk, even a lamp dimly lighting the space.

But the windows told the real story. Thick, iron bars stretched across the glass, bolted deep into the walls. The door, too, was solid — reinforced with steel and locked tight from the outside. Every time he tested it, the hinges didn’t so much as rattle.

A cage disguised as comfort.

Bakugo had been pacing for hours, every muscle in his body itching to fight his way out, but he knew brute strength wouldn’t cut it this time. They wanted him here — and for some reason, they were going out of their way to keep him in one piece.

What grated on him more than anything, though, was the silence. He had no clue where the others were, no idea what had happened after the villains had grabbed him in the forest.

And no clue that Kaia had been taken too.

He gritted his teeth, glancing at the barred window. Damn it... I swear if they laid a hand on any of them...

The quiet stretched on, interrupted only by the occasional footstep outside his door. Each time, he’d tense, ready to pounce, but no one came inside.

The League wasn’t in a rush. They wanted him waiting. Wanted him stewing in his own thoughts.

The sharp, mechanical click of the deadbolt turning snapped Bakugo out of his thoughts. His head snapped toward the door just as it swung open, slow and deliberate.

Two figures stepped inside — Shigaraki, with his ever-present, decaying hand twitching lazily at his side, and the calm, shadowy silhouette of Kurogiri just behind him, the portal mist curling softly at his collar.

Bakugo tensed, his fists balling up, ready for a fight if it came to that. But Shigaraki didn’t lift a hand — not yet. He strolled further into the room, his red eyes studying Bakugo like some kind of bored cat toying with its prey.

“You’ve been quiet, Bakugo,” Shigaraki rasped, voice dry and cracking like old wood. “Not that I’m surprised. You’re the type to stew in silence until you explode.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. His glare said enough.

Shigaraki’s lips twisted into a sharp grin. “We’ve been watching you. Not just today. For a long time. You’re strong — aggressive, determined, ambitious. You hate being looked down on, and you hate losing even more.” His fingers twitched at the thought. “You’d fit right in with us.”

Kurogiri’s voice was steady, formal. “The League offers freedom from the chains U.A. and hero society tie around you. Power, without restraint. Respect, without crawling for it.”

Shigaraki’s head tilted slightly, eyes dark and curious, like he was studying how far Bakugo could bend before he’d break.
“You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it. You could become more than some top hero’s shadow. More than a pawn. We know you’ve got the fire. You just need the right place to let it burn.”

His hand lifted, four fingers hovering in the air — the unspoken reminder of what he could do with just one more.

“We’re not here to hurt you. Not unless you force us to.” He dropped his hand back to his side, turning toward the door, his voice lower but colder now. “And you’re not the only guest, by the way. You might want to think about your answer before it costs someone else.”

The door creaked shut behind them, locking once more.

Bakugo stared at the door, jaw tight, mind racing. The words were bait — and he knew it. But one thing was clear now.

Kaia was here too.

*****

Kaia had been in that small, room for days now. The hours blurred together, each one a cruel repetition of the last. Her body felt heavy, her mind slow—her captors had made sure of that. Every few hours, they drugged her, keeping her in a haze, always just on the edge of consciousness, never quite able to piece together what was real and what was distorted by the drugs they had been feeding her. But today, something inside her refused to slip back into that fog. She wasn’t going to just fade away.

She lay on the bed, the cuffs around her ankle cold against her skin. Her powers still felt distant, like an echo just out of reach, and the platinum metal around her ankle left her unable to manipulate it. It was frustrating, but she refused to show weakness. The walls might be closing in, but she wasn't going to be crushed by them—not yet.

The door creaked open, and Toga stepped in first, her usual bright, unnerving grin plastered across her face. She carried the same unsettling energy, the girl who could go from friendly to terrifying in the blink of an eye. Twice followed, his face twisted in that familiar mask of uncertainty, but his presence was no less intimidating. They both had been keeping her company for the past couple of days, though the word "company" was a stretch. It felt more like surveillance, with occasional moments of conversation thrown in.

"You're still awake?" Toga’s voice was sweet, almost too sweet, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she leaned against the wall.

Kaia didn’t immediately respond, her gaze flickering between the two of them. She wasn’t giving them any more information than they already had, but she couldn’t keep up the wall of silence forever. There was only so much isolation she could take, and the drug-induced fog left her aching for something to hold onto.

Toga tilted her head, watching Kaia closely, clearly sensing the subtle shift. "You know, you’re really quiet. I thought heroes liked to talk a lot."

Kaia sighed inwardly, but her voice came out even and controlled, though her words were measured. "Not all heroes are the same," she muttered, her tone flat. "You should know that by now."

Twice laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, but I mean, you’ve been here for days. You could at least tell us something about you. You’ve got this whole ‘mystery girl’ vibe going on, and that makes it even more interesting."

Kaia’s eyes flicked to Twice, and she gave a slight, knowing shrug. "There’s not much to tell. I’m just some girl who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Toga pouted dramatically, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Oh come on, we’ve been so nice to you! You’re one of us now, Mikage. You could at least let us in a little. Tell us about your life before all this. Like, what were you like before they brought you here?"

Kaia’s expression hardened, and she briefly closed her eyes as if the question was too much to deal with. She didn’t owe them anything—not a single part of her past. Still, she couldn’t completely shut them out. It was better to talk to them and keep her mind sharp than to wallow in silence.

"Before all this?" She repeated slowly, her voice quiet. "I was just a kid, trying to get by, trying to survive." She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "But you don’t care about that, do you?"

Twice winced at her tone, but Toga seemed unfazed. She took a few steps closer to Kaia, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. "I care. I mean, everyone’s got a story, right? But you’re special, Mikage. There’s something about you... something different." She chuckled darkly. "I’m just curious about how far you’ll go to hold onto that mystery."

Kaia’s jaw clenched. "You don’t know anything about me." She looked directly at Toga, her gaze sharp. "So stop pretending like you do."

Toga giggled, unfazed by Kaia’s words. "Oh, but we do know a lot about you. We know you’re strong, that you’ve got potential. I mean, not everyone gets to play with the elements like you can. How cool is that?" She leaned in closer. "Maybe we could work together. It doesn’t have to be so bad, Mikage."

Kaia said nothing, staring straight ahead. Her mind raced, but she knew better than to get pulled into this twisted version of conversation. They were playing a game, but Kaia wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. They had no idea what she was capable of, and even though her powers were suppressed at the moment, she wasn’t going to let them think she was weak. The moment they underestimated her would be the moment she made her move.

Twice’s voice cut through her thoughts. "We just want you to be comfortable here, Mikage. After all, you’re a part of the family now." He gestured to the room, the air thick with false camaraderie. "You’re not alone anymore."

Kaia looked back at him, her gaze cold and distant. "I’ll never be a part of your family," she said softly, but with an intensity that silenced both of them. "I’m not like you."

There was a long silence after that, broken only by the faint sound of the building settling. Toga seemed to think for a moment, her bright eyes flicking between Kaia and Twice. She shrugged, as if Kaia’s words didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. "Fair enough," she said, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "But don’t worry, Mikage. You’ll come around."

Kaia didn’t respond. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. She knew that no matter what they said, no matter how many games they played with her, she would stay focused. One day, she’d get out of here. She wasn’t going to stay in this room forever.

And when she did, she would make sure they knew exactly who they were dealing with.

*****

Every few hours, the door would creak open, and in would walk Toga and Twice, bringing food, sometimes small talk, and an eerie sense of familiarity that only grew with time.

At first, Kaia kept her distance, maintaining a cold, guarded demeanor. But, as the days stretched on, she began to notice something odd about their interactions—something that almost felt... human. Twice and Toga bickered like siblings, their conversations playful, teasing, and filled with a strange comfort. There was something in the way they argued over trivial things—like whether or not the food was too salty or whether Toga’s latest obsession with her blood bags was getting out of hand—that almost made Kaia laugh.

Almost.

She caught herself one day, her lips twitching as she watched Toga and Twice argue over a sandwich that Toga had seemingly "accidentally" taken a bite out of before delivering it to Kaia. It was the kind of bickering that anyone might have with their friends or family. The absurdity of it almost made her forget where she was, forget that these were the people who had kidnapped her, who had tortured her mind with drugs to keep her compliant.

But she quickly squashed that thought, the reality crashing back down on her. They were still villains. And she was still trapped.

Still, Kaia couldn’t help but find herself observing their interactions more and more, almost feeling like an outsider watching something she couldn’t quite grasp. She started to realize something surprising: If they weren’t villains, if they weren’t working for the League of Villains, she might actually spend time around them. Toga’s quirky, chaotic energy was strangely endearing at times, and Twice’s awkwardness had a certain charm that made him oddly relatable.

She shook her head as soon as the thought crossed her mind, trying to push it away. Don’t get soft, Mikage. They were still the enemy, still people who had abducted her and were using her for whatever twisted plans they had. But a part of her couldn’t help but be fascinated by the dynamics between them. There was something real about their bond—a strange, dysfunctional family, but a family all the same.

One afternoon, after another round of Toga and Twice squabbling over who had to clean up the empty pizza boxes they had brought in earlier, Kaia leaned back against the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"If you two weren’t so insane, I’d almost think you could make a decent duo," Kaia muttered, half to herself.

Toga froze, looking at her with wide, curious eyes. Twice looked at her too, his head tilted in that familiar, nervous manner.

"You think we’re decent?" Toga asked, her voice full of mock offense. "We’re awesome!"

Twice snorted, shaking his head. "We might be a little... chaotic, but come on, who else has the level of charm we do?" He flashed a goofy grin at her.

Kaia smirked, despite herself. "Yeah, well, it’s something." She paused, feeling the weight of her words. "If you two weren’t so... messed up, I could see us being... I don’t know. Friends, maybe."

Toga’s expression softened for a moment, the wild spark in her eyes dimming just slightly. "You think we could be friends?" She asked, her voice almost wistful.

Kaia didn’t answer immediately. She wasn’t sure what to say. The reality of the situation was too stark to ignore, too painful. But the thought lingered, that in some other life, in some other world, maybe—just maybe—things could have been different.

"Yeah," Kaia said quietly, almost to herself. "If things were different, I think we could be friends."

But things weren’t different. And Kaia knew that no matter how many times she allowed herself to entertain the thought, they were still enemies, still working for the League of Villains. The bonds they shared were twisted and dangerous, built on chaos and violence, and Kaia wasn’t about to let herself forget that.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel the smallest, most fleeting pang of longing for something else—something normal. It was a dangerous thought, but one she couldn't completely shake off.

And so, as Toga and Twice continued their lighthearted bickering, Kaia remained quiet, her gaze drifting between them, wondering if they had any idea just how close they were to something real, something human. But she also knew that no matter how much they acted like they cared, there was no escaping the fact that they were still the enemy.

*****

Kaia spent most of her time in the room, drugged and disoriented, but there were occasional moments when she was allowed out for brief bathroom breaks. The only company she had during those moments was Toga and, on the rare occasion, Magne. The two women were there, ostensibly to “keep her comfortable,” but Kaia knew better. It was about control—keeping her under watch, making sure she didn’t try anything foolish.

The bathroom breaks were the few moments Kaia was able to gather her thoughts. During these brief walks, she’d get snippets of the League of Villains—glimpses of who they were when they thought she wasn’t paying attention, pieces of their personalities she could use to understand them better.

She saw Spinner first. The lizard-like man was always near the edges of the room, watching, waiting, a strange gleam in his eyes as if he was deep in thought. She overheard him talking to someone once, muttering about Stain, the hero killer—his idol. It was clear Spinner’s loyalty was to Stain's ideology of purging society’s "false" heroes. There was a fire in him, the kind that made him dangerous, but also a certain vulnerability, a kind of hesitation that Kaia could almost relate to, despite their vastly different perspectives.

Then there was Mr. Compress. The man who had trapped her in that little ball during the raid. He seemed polite, almost too polite, with his smooth words and carefully crafted smile. But Kaia wasn’t fooled. There was something cold beneath his courteous exterior, something that hinted at the manipulative and cunning mind that lay behind it. She had a brief interaction with him while she was still in the room, and his gaze lingered just a bit too long, like he was trying to puzzle her out.

Kurogiri, on the other hand, was different. He was quiet, patient, the kind of person who didn’t rush, who took his time to observe. He always wore that immaculate suit, as if he was above the chaos that surrounded him. Kaia wasn’t sure what to make of him, but she could tell he wasn’t as unpredictable as the others. He carried an air of professionalism, like he had his own code, and she couldn’t decide if that made him more dangerous or less.

Shigaraki was another story entirely. She had already had a rather intimate conversation with him, though she wouldn’t call it that. It was more like an interrogation, with his cold, dead eyes watching her every movement as he talked about the League’s plans. He had an unsettling way of speaking—calm, but carrying an undercurrent of menace. Kaia wasn’t sure if he was always so distant or if he was just keeping her at arm's length, but his presence was one she would never forget.

And then there was Dabi. Every time their eyes met, Kaia felt a shiver run down her spine. He never looked at her with warmth—no, his gaze was cold and calculating, like he was studying her every reaction, dissecting her every thought. There was something dangerous in the way he looked at her, something that made her skin crawl. She never liked the way he’d smirk after their brief exchanges, like he knew something she didn’t. There was no doubt in her mind that he had the potential to be the most unpredictable of them all.

Whenever Toga and Magne would escort her out, Kaia would try her best to remain neutral, her mind racing with all the information she’d collected. The League of Villains wasn’t a group she could underestimate. They were all dangerous in their own way, all driven by something—whether it was Stain’s ideology, Shigaraki’s desire for chaos, or Dabi’s unpredictable nature. They were unpredictable, but they were also a family, twisted as it was. And Kaia? She was just another piece in their game, another pawn to manipulate.

Still, she was determined not to stay a pawn for long. Every day that passed, Kaia was formulating a plan, gathering whatever she could from her brief encounters. She wouldn’t let them break her. She had to get out of there—she just needed to find the right opportunity.

*****

Kaia’s mind was a haze, the drugs coursing through her body making her limbs heavy and her thoughts sluggish. But despite the fog, one thought kept circling her mind: Is Kastuki okay? She knew, logically, that he was safe for now, but the uncertainty gnawed at her. She was trapped here in this room, a prisoner, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was experiencing the same thing—or worse.

Her body still ached from the constant drug-induced stupor, and her eyes grew heavier as the minutes ticked by. She lay on her side, facing the wall, trying to quiet the racing thoughts in her head. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of the door opening cut through the silence, and the distinct click of the lock snapping into place made her tense. For a brief second, she thought it might be one of the others—maybe Toga or Twice—but the weight on the bed shifted, and a familiar, rough hand gently touched her arm.

Kaia froze.

The touch was unmistakable. The rough skin, the calluses. And the unmistakable presence of staples—the jagged, harsh reminder of the man whose hand was now resting on her. Dabi.

Kaia’s breath hitched, the soft rustling of the bed sheets almost too loud in the stillness of the room. She knew what it meant when he was close. His presence was always unsettling, as though he was too quiet, too calculating. She didn’t want to turn over, didn’t want to meet his gaze, but the temptation to see what he would do next tugged at her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Kaia could feel his stare even without looking at him, the intensity in the air thickening with each passing second. His hand lingered on her arm, not in an affectionate way, but in a possessive, almost taunting manner. She could feel the weight of his presence, that cold, calculating energy that seemed to seep into the room, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and smooth, but laced with something that made her shiver. "Wondering if he’s okay, are you?" Dabi’s words were slow, deliberate, like he was savoring her discomfort. "He’s fine. For now."

Kaia didn’t respond. Her lips pressed tightly together, her mind scrambling for a way out of the situation. She refused to show weakness, refused to let Dabi see how much the thought of Bakugo—or anyone—being harmed affected her. Still, the small flicker of relief that she felt when he mentioned Bakugo was enough to make her want to close her eyes and sink into the bed. But she couldn’t afford to relax—not here, not now.

Dabi’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the edge of her arm, the movement almost absentminded. "You know," he continued, his voice lowering even more, "it’s interesting. How much control you think you have in this situation. But really... you’re just a toy. A piece. And in the end, you’ll either play along or be crushed." He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing the back of her neck, and she could feel the smirk in his voice as he whispered, "I’m curious, Mikage... which one are you?"

Kaia’s heart raced in her chest, and she had to fight to keep her breathing steady. She wasn’t going to let him see how much his words affected her. She wasn’t going to let him get inside her head. Not now. Not when she was so close to escaping.

She didn’t respond immediately, not trusting herself to speak. But the silence was suffocating, so she finally muttered in the dark, her voice quieter than she intended. "I’m not your toy."

Dabi’s fingers paused, and for a second, she could almost hear the amusement in his voice. "We’ll see about that, won’t we?"

Dabi’s words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating and cruel. His hand didn’t pull away — it lingered, moving lower in slow, deliberate motions. Kaia’s body tensed, panic clawing at the fog of drugs that dulled her senses. She wanted to push him away, to scream, but her limbs wouldn’t obey.

A quiet, bitter chuckle left him, dark and sinister, as though he enjoyed watching her trapped between defiance and helplessness. His hand drifted, fingers curling under the hem of her shirt — and that’s when the tear slipped down her cheek. Silent. Defeated. Powerless.

*****

Katsuki sat motionless on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and hands locked tightly together, knuckles pale from the pressure. The dim light of the room did little to settle the storm brewing in his chest.

They wanted him to join them — the League of Villains.

The thought had circled his head over and over since the moment Shigaraki had laid it out for him. They’d been watching him, studying him, waiting for this moment like it had all been part of some twisted plan. But how? Who had been feeding them information? His mind clawed for answers, but there were too many questions and not enough pieces to form the full picture.

And then there was Kaia.

If the League did their homework, they would know who to target to aid in his recruitment. The revelation had hit him like a brick to the chest when Shigaraki mentioned their other guest. She was here too. Somewhere in this hellhole, locked away just like him — or worse. The thought of her being hurt, of them using her the same way they were trying to use him, only made the pressure building inside his chest tighten further. His fists trembled, heat sparking along his palms as sweat threatened to trigger his quirk.

Kaia. His childhood friend. The one person besides Izuku who had seen through all the sharp edges he threw up around himself. Over the school year, the distance that had once stretched between the three of them — years of tension, misunderstandings, and stubborn pride — had started to close. Kaia had been the bridge. Always patient with him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Always there, even when he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

And when he finally did... when he finally told her that he cared for her, that she mattered to him more than anyone else — she hadn’t pulled away. She hadn’t laughed or scolded him. She had just smiled that soft, knowing smile of hers, and it had felt like the world had finally righted itself for once.

Kaia was strong — probably stronger than half the damn class — and yet they’d still managed to take her. Just like him. That burned worse than any injury. It wasn’t just the danger or the threat — it was the knowledge that they’d both been outplayed, blindsided, and now she was suffering somewhere in this godforsaken place.

And the worst part? He hadn’t even known.

While he’d been sitting here, stewing in his own frustration, fighting the sick twist of their offer to join them — she’d been here too. Alone. Maybe scared. And he hadn’t known.

His throat tightened. He’d spent so long keeping his distance from people, making himself untouchable. But Kaia — she’d slipped past that, hadn’t she? Little by little. Her easy patience, her sharp tongue when he deserved it, the way she looked at him like he was more than just his temper or his strength.

Now the thought of her suffering because of him, because of this sick game the League was playing, made his stomach churn. If they laid even a single finger on her...

All hell would break loose.

He stood abruptly, pacing the small space of the room, caged like an animal. The bars on the windows mocked him, the reinforced door a constant reminder of how powerless he was in this moment. But he wouldn't stay powerless. Not for long.

They wanted him to break.

But they underestimated him. And when he got out — when Kaia got out — he would make damn sure they paid for every second they kept her here.

The heavy click of the lock snapped Katsuki’s head up, every muscle in his body going rigid. The door creaked open, and in stepped Twice and Toga — both wearing those usual grins like this was all some kind of game.

“Rise and shine, Bakugo!” Toga cooed, a little too cheerful for the moment.

He barely had time to stand before something was thrown over his face. The sharp, chemical scent hit his nose, and his body betrayed him almost instantly. His vision blurred, his limbs gave out. He tried to fight it — of course he did — but the darkness swallowed him whole within seconds.

When he came to, the world swam back into focus, blurry and unsteady. His head throbbed. His wrists were free, but he knew better than to assume that meant anything good.

He was sitting upright now, slumped against the cold surface of the bar counter, the dim, stale-smelling room too quiet for comfort. Slowly, his vision cleared, and standing in front of him were the League.

Spinner perched on a barstool, fidgeting with a knife. Magne leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. Mr. Compress tipped his hat from a shadowed corner. Dabi sat nearby, all quiet fire and unsettling calm.

And front and center: Shigaraki and Kurogiri.

Shigaraki's red eyes practically gleamed in the dim light, his posture loose but loaded with tension. His hand twitched — those fingers always seemed to hover, waiting to ruin something.

“Welcome back, Bakugou,” he drawled, voice low but tinged with that usual, dangerous boredom. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

Kurogiri, ever calm, stood like a shadow at Shigaraki’s side, the mist of his body subtly shifting, unreadable as always.

“You’ve had some time to think, haven’t you?” Shigaraki continued, tilting his head slightly, watching him like a cat might watch a caged bird. “About our offer. About your place in all this. About her.”

That last part landed like a hook in Katsuki’s chest. Kaia.

The mention of her, even unspoken, pulled a scowl to his face, sharp and full of warning. But Shigaraki just smiled wider, tapping his fingers against the bar.

“You’re a smart kid. Smarter than those fools at U.A. You know we’re right about the world. You just need to see it for yourself.”

The room was suffocatingly quiet for a moment, the weight of the unspoken threat heavy in the air.

Katsuki swallowed down the fury bubbling in his throat, his mind already racing for a way out.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the dim hallway.

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the source, his muscles stiffening, instincts flaring like a lit fuse. The quiet shuffle of feet grew louder, approaching the open room like the slow, taunting tick of a clock counting down.

Shigaraki leaned back, the smirk curling lazily on his face, fingers flexing near the armrest. His voice came out smooth, but underneath it was a sharp, knowing cruelty.

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” he drawled, eyeing Bakugo’s defiant stare. “Maybe you just need a little… incentive.”

Bakugo’s stomach coiled tight, pulse hammering in his ears as the footsteps reached the threshold. His breath caught when Twice stepped through the door — not alone.

Draped over his back like a discarded coat was Kaia.

Her head rested limply against Twice’s shoulder, her hair tangled and sticking to her sweat-slicked face. Her usually sharp, alert eyes were only half-lidded, clouded and heavy, pupils struggling to focus. Even from across the room Bakugo could tell she wasn’t fully there — drugged, her body weak and slack, barely holding herself upright.

Twice hummed some light, off-key tune as if this was all perfectly normal, his split personality flitting back and forth mid-sentence.

“She’s getting too heavy, but I said I’d carry her! No, you idiot, you’ll drop her if you don’t stop shaking—”

Bakugo’s hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked. The sight of her like that — her body too still, her expression dulled — it sent a white-hot bolt of rage through his chest.

Shigaraki gestured lazily toward Twice, eyes flicking back to Bakugo with a venomous sort of glee.

“You probably figured out she’s been here the whole time,” Shigaraki said, voice low and almost sing-song. “Right under your nose. And if you’re stubborn… well, I can’t promise her stay will be as comfortable as yours.”

Twice adjusted Kaia’s weight, muttering under his breath while Kaia’s head lolled slightly against his shoulder, too dazed to lift it. Bakugo’s entire body tensed, heart slamming against his ribs, but he held still — barely. His mind screamed at him to charge, to blow them all away and get her out of there.

But one wrong move could put her in even more danger.

Shigaraki leaned forward, voice darkening.

“Join us. Or watch what happens to her.”

Bakugo’s jaw locked so hard it ached. His mind raced — the League thought they had him cornered, but this wasn’t over. Not yet.

If he kept his cool, if he waited for the right moment — the heroes would come.

They had to.

And until then, he’d endure whatever it took.

For her.

*****

The world swayed around her like a boat adrift on open water.

Kaia barely registered the motion as her body was lifted and carried — her mind floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, the drug still dulling the edges of her thoughts like heavy fog. She knew the hands that held her, the voice mumbling half-sentences as they moved through the dim hallway.

Twice.

It was the same routine: the same lull of her limbs, the same weight pulling at her eyelids, the same struggle to tell how much time had passed.

But this time… something was different.

The soft scrape of her shoes against the floor ended, and she felt herself being lowered onto something solid. A bench. She knew the texture of the old wood even through the haze.

Then — warmth.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, steady and protective. Not rough like Twice or cold like Shigaraki. It was firm but careful, like whoever held her was afraid she’d break if they didn’t. She knew that feeling. That weight, that presence.

Katsuki.

Her sluggish head tilted slightly toward him, her body too weak to fully lean in, but her heart recognized him instantly even if her brain still struggled to piece it all together. His scent, the subtle tension in his muscles — always on edge, but now tenfold. She didn’t have to see his face to know his jaw was clenched, his body braced like a coiled spring.

The room around them was low-lit, voices — Shigaraki’s sharp, grating drawl and Kurogiri’s calm reply — floated in and out of her fogged hearing like whispers behind a wall.

But the longer she sat there, pressed close to Bakugo’s side, the more her senses sharpened.

Her fingers twitched slightly against the fabric of her jeans.

The haze wasn’t as heavy now. The usual cycle — drug, sleep, repeat — must’ve lapsed. Too busy trying to handle Bakugo, too focused on making him bend, they’d overlooked her dose.

Her body still sagged against him, playing along, her breathing slow and even, her head heavy against his shoulder. But behind her half-lidded eyes, her mind was starting to clear. Piece by piece, sharp as broken glass.

And she knew Katsuki could feel it too — the faint shift, the subtle tension in her limbs as her strength slowly returned.

For now, though, she stayed slumped against him, holding the illusion, letting them believe she was still trapped in that fog.

The longer Kaia sat beside Katsuki, the more the fog lifted, her senses sharpening like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

Her foot, once limp and heavy, now pressed lightly against the worn wooden floor — subtle, cautious. A soft pulse of her seismic sense rippled out, weaving through the foundation of the building, past the thin walls, and into the ground beyond.

The first thing she felt was familiar: Katsuki's steady heartbeat, the quiet coil of anger beneath his skin, like a fuse burning low but steady.

The second... the vibrations of movement. Figures surrounding the building. Their patterns weren't wild or erratic, but disciplined, controlled — distinct in a way villains never were.

Pro heroes.

And then something deeper, warmer — the presence that settled her nerves without her even realizing it before. Her seismic sense locked onto it like it always did, even when she wasn’t trying.

Her father.

Zaire was at the front door.

The realization anchored her — a flicker of hope nestled sharp beneath her sluggish shell. Her foot barely shifted, and even that movement sent another soft wave outward, confirming what her instincts already told her. They were surrounded.

A sharp knock rattled the quiet, the sound cutting through the tense air like a blade.

"Pizza delivery," a voice called.

Kaia’s blood ran cold, but not from fear — from recognition. She could almost see the dry, calm confidence her father carried in every word. Katsuki’s muscles tensed against her as the room collectively stiffened.

Kurogiri, unflinching as ever, turned to the bar’s original owner — the poor man who’d been blackmailed into letting the League hole up in his building. Wordlessly, he gestured for him to answer.

The man, pale and nervous, wiped his hands on his pants before walking toward the door, he took a breath straightened up and walked down the hallway.

Kaia kept her body slumped, head resting on Katsuki’s shoulder, but her mind was razor-sharp now, awake and ready.

They wouldn’t be trapped here much longer.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the U.A. conference room was thick with silence, the kind that pressed against every chest like a physical weight. The room was dimly lit, most of the teachers still in the clothes they’d worn to the camp, faces drawn and tired, but sharp with focus. Around the table, several Pro Heroes stood or sat stiffly, all eyes on the digital map blinking quietly in the center of the room.

Zaire — Bedrock — sat with his hands steepled in front of his mouth, stone-faced, but the tension in his jaw gave away what his heart was going through. His daughter was out there. Taken. Alongside Bakugo.

Aizawa leaned forward, eyes dark and heavy from lack of sleep. “We have no confirmed location. The League of Villains moved faster than we anticipated — by the time the students regrouped and reported back, they were already gone.” His voice was low, worn from hours of repeating the same facts.

“Street patrols are out. Heroes across the city are watching every corner, but as of now... nothing,” Vlad King added grimly, arms folded across his chest.

All Might stood by the window, silent. His hands were clenched tight behind his back, the weight of his students' safety dragging down his usual resolve. “We know this is no random attack,” he finally said. “The League has a motive. They targeted young Bakugo before. Now they’ve taken both him and Mikage’s daughter. It’s deliberate.”

“Tomura Shigaraki doesn’t make moves without a goal,” Cementoss spoke up from his seat. “We just haven’t seen the full picture yet.”

Bedrock exhaled sharply, his voice edged with iron. “They’re using them. Either as bait or leverage. Kaia’s smart. She knows not to play into their hands. But the longer this takes, the worse the odds get.”

“Time isn’t on our side,” Tsukauchi, the detective, added, stepping forward. “We’ve deployed every available officer to search for League activity. The moment something credible shows up, we’ll move.”

Aizawa leaned back, running a hand through his messy hair. “Until then, we wait. But we don’t waste it — we gather every scrap of intel from every ally, every patrol. The League will slip up. They always do.”

The room went quiet again, the soft static of the city map flickering the only sound. Everyone knew the truth, even if no one said it out loud:

The League had planned this. And if they didn’t move fast enough, they could lose their students for good.

*****

The house was quiet when Zaire stepped through the door, the weight of the day clinging to him like a second skin. His keys barely made a sound as they hit the bowl by the door. He slipped off his boots, rolling his shoulders stiffly, the exhaustion hitting deeper than muscle or bone.

The living room lights were low, but the voices were unmistakable. Amara sat on the couch, her face pale and tear-streaked, hands clutching a tissue as if it were the only thing anchoring her. On either side of her sat Mitsuki and Inko. Inko’s hands gently rubbed Amara’s shoulder, her own eyes damp but steady, trying her best to be the pillar her friends needed. Mitsuki, though quieter than usual, sat close, her expression hard-set and worn — the telltale look of a mother caught between rage and heartbreak.

Zaire’s chest tightened at the sight. It was a scene that told him everything without a single word.

In the kitchen, he could hear the faint clatter of utensils. Masaru was moving around the stove, stirring something in a pot. The smell of warm broth and seasoned rice hung in the air — a small gesture of comfort in a house that felt hollow.

Masaru glanced over his shoulder when Zaire stepped into the doorway, his smile faint but genuine. “Hey,” he said softly, voice slightly hoarse. “Almost done. Figured... we could all use something warm.”

Zaire nodded once, stepping closer but not fully entering the kitchen. “Thanks, Masaru.” The gratitude was genuine but strained, heavy with helplessness. “Any word from the hospital?”

Masaru’s hand paused on the ladle. “No new updates. Izuku’s stable. Recovery Girl’s been working on him... but he hasn’t woken up much.”

Zaire rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Still nothing from the League’s end. We spent the entire day sorting leads that went nowhere.”

Silence stretched between them. Masaru stirred the pot once more, forcing his hands to stay busy. “We’ll get them back,” he said, quiet but firm, as if saying it aloud would make it true. “Both of them.”

Zaire’s gaze drifted back to the living room, where Amara and Mitsuki sat, heads leaned together, silent tears marking the hours that had passed.

“We have to,” Zaire murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The sound of the simmering pot in the kitchen was the only thing filling the silence, the occasional stir of Masaru’s spoon a soft, steady rhythm trying to anchor the room. Zaire finally stepped fully into the living room, his hand brushing along the back of the worn couch as he sat down beside Amara.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t — not with the ache still lodged in her throat. Instead, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, her hand finding his, fingers gripping tight. He could feel the tremble in her palms, like all the strength she’d spent years building was starting to crack.

Mitsuki, sitting across from them, ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, clearly too restless to sit still, but too hollow to move. “They took our babies,” she whispered, voice sharp with the kind of hurt only a mother could know. “Right under our noses.”

Inko, sitting between her two closest friends, tightened her hold around Amara’s shoulders. “We’re going to get them back,” she said quietly, but with more resolve than she felt. “All Might, Aizawa, the others — they won’t stop until they do.”

Amara let out a shuddered breath, wiping her eyes roughly with her sleeve, though it did little good. “She’s never been away from us like this. Not like this.”

Zaire rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, grounding her as best he could. “Kaia’s strong,” he said softly. “Stronger than either of us ever thought possible. She’s holding on. I know it.”

Mitsuki scoffed, but the sound lacked its usual sharpness. “And Katsuki’s too damn stubborn to let them win.” Her voice cracked halfway through, but she pressed her palms to her face, willing herself not to fall apart again. “Those villains don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into.”

Masaru finally emerged from the kitchen, placing bowls of soup on the coffee table, his expression worn but warm. “You all need to eat. Even if it’s just a little.”

No one moved at first, the weight of the moment making their limbs heavy. But Amara reached for a bowl, her hands trembling as Zaire steadied it for her. The others slowly followed, the small act of eating not because they were hungry, but because they had to — for strength, for focus. For their kids.

The room settled into a heavy quiet, only the occasional clink of spoons against porcelain breaking the silence.

In the back of each of their minds, the same thought looped:
Please. Just hold on.

Mitsuki paused mid-sip, eyes snapping toward Inko as her phone buzzed against the coffee table. The sound cut through the heavy quiet like a blade. Inko fumbled for it, heart already racing before she even saw the screen.

Her breath hitched when she read the caller ID: Aldera General Hospital.

She answered in a heartbeat.

“Hello? This is Midoriya.”

The nurse on the other end spoke softly, but the words hit her like a surge of air after drowning.
“Mrs. Midoriya — your son’s awake. He’s stable, alert, asking for you.”

For the first time in what felt like days, Inko exhaled a breath she’d been holding. Tears welled in her eyes, but this time they weren’t just from fear. Mitsuki leaned forward, catching the shift in her friend’s expression, and Zaire and Amara both turned their heads.

“He’s awake,” Inko whispered, voice cracking with relief and exhaustion. “Izuku’s awake.”

Masaru, standing by the doorway with a kitchen towel in hand, visibly sagged with quiet relief. Mitsuki wiped at her face, letting out a long exhale, whispering under her breath, “Damn kid… tough as ever.”

Amara sat up straighter, gripping Zaire’s hand tightly. There was still no news about Kaia or Bakugo, but knowing Izuku was awake brought a flicker of hope back into the room — something they all desperately needed.

Inko stood, gathering her bag with trembling hands. “I have to go see him.”

Zaire gave her a nod, his voice steady despite the storm still churning in his chest. “Tell him… we’re all proud of him. And tell him the kids are counting on him.”

Inko blinked back tears, managing a small, determined smile as she headed for the door. “I will.”

The door closed behind her, leaving the room still heavy, but with the faintest spark of hope lingering in the air.

The soft buzz of the hospital’s fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of antiseptic greeted Inko as she hurried down the corridor, clutching her purse tightly to her chest. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, heart pounding with every step closer to her son.

A nurse stood outside Izuku’s room, offering her a gentle smile when she approached.
“He’s awake. A little weak, but stable. You can go in.”

Inko barely managed to nod before slipping inside. The sight of her son made her breath catch. Izuku lay against the raised bed, pale and battered, his arms wrapped in fresh bandages, faint bruises marking his freckled face. His bright green eyes — tired but alive — blinked over at her the second the door clicked shut.

“Mom...” he rasped, his voice dry, barely more than a whisper.

Inko moved to his side quickly, lowering herself into the chair and brushing his hair back from his forehead, careful of his injuries.
“Oh, Izuku… baby…” she murmured, holding his hand lightly, tears already welling.

He squeezed her hand, weak but certain. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop them. Kaia and Kacchan... they took them.”

Inko shook her head, shushing him gently. “No, sweetheart. You don’t need to be sorry. None of this is your fault. You did everything you could.”

Izuku’s lip trembled, but he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“I tried to tell the teachers in time. I thought... if I told them early enough, maybe Kaia wouldn’t have been taken too.”

Inko leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his temple, tears slipping free.
“She’s strong, Izuku. You know that. Kaia’s smart and brave — just like you. And I know she’s holding on until help comes.”

Izuku closed his eyes, guilt swirling behind them, but her words offered him a sliver of comfort.
“I have to help save her,” he mumbled. “And Kacchan. I have to.”

Inko squeezed his hand again, her voice firm but full of love.
“You just focus on getting better first. The heroes will find them. And when you’re ready, I know you’ll help bring them home.”

The room settled into quiet, the distant beeping of the heart monitor steady and calm.

For the first time since the attack, Inko allowed herself a small, determined hope.

*****

The low murmur of conversations filled the U.A. conference room, papers rustling and the occasional scrape of a chair breaking the uneasy quiet. Another day had passed, and still, no solid lead on children’s whereabouts. The pro heroes looked worn, the tension settling heavy on everyone’s shoulders like an unspoken weight.

Zaire stood near the large window, arms crossed over his chest, dark circles under his eyes betraying the exhaustion creeping in from days without proper rest. His gaze flickered to Aizawa, who approached him quietly, coffee in hand. The two men stood side by side, staring out at the city skyline as the meeting shifted around them.

“She’s strong,” Aizawa started, voice low and calm, “Your daughter. Kaia’s always had the kind of instincts you can’t teach.”

Zaire’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze steady on the horizon. “She gets it from her mother,” he replied, though his voice held the barest hint of pride beneath the worry.

Aizawa allowed a faint, knowing smirk. “During the recommendation exam, she caught my eye.” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Most kids show off their quirks — flashy moves, raw power. But Kaia, she used her head. Patience. Awareness. I knew she had potential the moment I saw her, even before I learned her last name.”

Zaire finally glanced at him, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “She’s always been good at reading situations. Even as a kid, she was... sharp. Like she knew the world was bigger than she was ready for.” His voice softened a fraction, his pride battling against the gnawing worry for his daughter’s safety.

Aizawa gave a quiet nod. “She’s the kind of student you don’t forget. And I don’t think she’s the type to give up, no matter where the League has her.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment, both men rooted in the same quiet hope that Kaia was holding on.

Zaire finally exhaled, rubbing a hand over his beard. “I just hope when we find her, she hasn’t lost that fire.”

“She won’t,” Aizawa answered without hesitation. “I’ve seen the way her classmates look at her. And the way she looks at them. She’s got too much to fight for.”

A brief crackle interrupted the moment as the police liaison entered the room, handing a file to one of the heroes. Everyone turned, hope flickering as the officer spoke.
“We’ve got a possible lead. A location. Could be them.”

Zaire’s heart jumped at the words, his whole body bracing. Aizawa placed his coffee down, sharp gaze already locked on the file.

The room grew still as the stack of grainy surveillance photos spread across the table, each one stamped with a date and time. Twice and Toga’s unmistakable faces flickered through the series — entering and exiting the same narrow, dimly lit building in the heart of the city. A small bar, nothing fancy, tucked between taller, more forgettable shops. The kind of place people walked past every day without a second glance.

The air felt heavier now, but the atmosphere was shifting — not with dread, but with focus. A plan was finally taking shape.

“Simple,” Best Jeanist said, leaning over the table, eyes sharp as they scanned the photos. “We go in, subdue the villains, secure the kids. Fast, clean, no room for error.”

Edge Shot nodded in agreement, fingers tapping lightly against the table. “The League won’t expect it. They’ve been hiding in plain sight, cocky enough to think they’ve slipped past us.”

Zaire stood at the corner of the table, arms crossed, his mind already racing through every possible outcome. For the first time in days, the helplessness twisting his gut eased — just a little.

Nezu’s voice, calm but deliberate, cut through the discussion. “And to make sure they stay off guard... we’ll hold a press conference tomorrow night. Announce our ‘ongoing efforts’ to find Mikage and Bakugo, show the public we’re dedicated, but feed the League exactly what they expect: desperation and no progress.”

Aizawa, standing beside the principal, gave a single nod. “I’ll handle the press conference with Nezu. If this works, the League won’t even see it coming.”

All Might, silent until now, straightened from his seat. His usual bright grin was absent — replaced by steel-hard resolve. “Tomorrow night, we end this.”

The room settled into grim agreement. Files were closed, photos gathered, strategies whispered back and forth between heroes — sharp, practiced, decisive.

Zaire stayed at the table a moment longer, eyes lingering on the last photo of Toga, her bright, twisted smile caught mid-laugh, before the picture was tucked away. He could feel it deep in his bones — his daughter was there. And this time, they were bringing her home.

*****

The front door creaked open, and heavy footsteps crossed the threshold. Zaire stepped inside, exhaustion clinging to his shoulders like a second skin — but for the first time in days, there was something different in his eyes. A spark, a flicker of real hope.

The living room had gone quiet the moment the door opened. Amara, curled up on the couch with Mitsuki and Inko, sat up straighter, her eyes searching his face the second he stepped in. Masaru, standing in the doorway from the kitchen, turned as well, towel still in his hand.

Zaire didn’t have to say a word at first. The tension in the air broke the moment Amara saw the faintest glimmer in his expression — the relief, the certainty.

He stepped closer, voice low but steady.

“We found them,” he said softly, but the weight of it sank deep into the room. “Tomorrow night... we’re bringing them home.”

The breath Amara had been holding for days finally escaped her in a shaky rush. Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, they weren’t the same ones that had clung to her for days. Mitsuki covered her mouth, her head dropping as silent sobs overtook her. Inko reached for her, holding tight, her own eyes glassy, while Masaru finally sat down, his face buried in his hands, the tension finally beginning to unravel.

Zaire knelt in front of his wife, taking her hands gently.

“I promised you,” he whispered, “I’m bringing her back.”

No one spoke for a while, the house filled only with the sound of quiet tears and the faint hum of the evening news still running in the background. But for the first time in days, the silence wasn’t heavy.

It was hopeful.

*****

Aldera General Hospital – 3:00 pm

The small hospital room was packed wall-to-wall with Class 1-A, the air heavy with tension and worry. Izuku sat propped up in bed, his arms wrapped tightly in bandages, face pale but determined as the conversation swirled around him.

Everyone was on edge. The abduction hadn’t left any of them untouched. Their classmates, their friends — snatched away. The helplessness clung to them like a fog.

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” Kirishima’s voice cracked through the room, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “They’re out there with villains — and we’re just supposed to wait for the pros?”

“We’re not even sure if the pros will make it in time…” Kaminari added quietly, doubt creeping into his voice.

“None of us want to sit still,” Jirou muttered, arms crossed, her usual calmness strained. “But if we go in blind, we’ll only make it worse.”

The debate raged back and forth, voices rising and falling, until finally a softer voice cut through the noise.

“Mikage wouldn’t want that.”

Everyone turned toward Uraraka, who sat at the edge of Izuku’s bed, hands gripping the fabric of her skirt.

“She wouldn’t want us to risk getting ourselves into trouble or hurt. Not for her. And Bakugo…” her voice wavered but steadied, “he’d be humiliated if we barged in trying to ‘save’ him.”

Silence followed her words, heavy and sobering.

“She believed in the pros,” Uraraka continued, looking down at her hands. “She believed in us too — that we’d make it through this and stay strong. I know she’d fight if the roles were reversed. But... she’d also want us to trust the teachers, and not act reckless.”

Izuku shifted slightly, lifting his gaze.

“She’s right,” he said hoarsely. “Kaia and Kacchan are strong. If they can hold out just a little longer… we have to believe the heroes will get to them.”

The room fell quiet, the weight of their missing friends settling over them again — but Uraraka’s words offered a steadying reminder.

They couldn’t act out of desperation. They had to have faith. Just like Kaia would’ve asked them to.

As the rest of Class 1-A slowly filed out of Izuku’s hospital room — the chatter dim, their footsteps heavy — Kirishima lingered behind, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He waited until the door clicked shut and the muffled sounds of his classmates faded down the hall.

Izuku glanced over, sensing the shift in the air.

Kirishima looked down for a moment, jaw tight, before stepping closer to the bed.

“Hey, man…” His voice was quieter than usual, missing that usual energetic tone. “Just wanted to check in. You holding up alright?”

Izuku gave him a small, strained smile. “Yeah. As much as I can, I guess.”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, nodding, but he didn’t move to leave. His fingers flexed, like he was weighing his words before he spoke again.

“Listen, Deku… I know what Uraraka said makes sense. And I know Kaia and Katsuki wouldn’t want us running headfirst into something stupid.” His red eyes lifted, serious. “But I also can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Izuku blinked, sitting up straighter.

“Todoroki and I…” Kirishima hesitated, voice dropping lower. “We’re making our move tonight. We’ve got an idea where they are, and we’re not waiting around.”

For a second, the hospital room felt like it froze.

Izuku’s heart clenched at the words — half with worry, half with understanding. Kirishima’s face was set with quiet resolve, no wild reckless spark, just the heavy weight of loyalty and the pain of watching two close friends vanish.

“If it were you,” Kirishima added softly, “Kaia would do the same. I know it.”

Izuku lowered his gaze, mind torn between reason and the very same burning need Kirishima was feeling.

“I figured you should know,” Kirishima said, turning toward the door. “We’ll be careful, I promise. But I couldn’t just let you wonder.”

Before Izuku could respond, Kirishima paused at the door, glancing back.

“We’ll bring them home, man. You’ll see.”

Kirishima had just opened the door, about to slip into the hallway when Izuku’s voice rang out behind him.

“Kirishima, wait.”

He paused, turning back to find Izuku sitting up a little straighter in his bed, his expression thoughtful — his usual determination creeping back into his eyes.

“I’m coming with you.”

Kirishima blinked, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Deku, you’re still—”

“I’m getting discharged in a few hours,” Izuku cut in, glancing at the bandages still wrapped around his body. “I’ll be fine. I can’t sit around and wait anymore. We need to get Bakugo and Kaia back, and I’m not just going to let you two go alone.”

Kirishima’s face softened, a relieved smile pulling at his lips. “You sure about this? I know you’re still hurt—”

“I know my limits,” Izuku said, his voice steady. “I’ll be careful. We need to do this, and I can’t let you guys go off without me. Besides…” He hesitated, but his expression hardened once more. “I’m not letting Kacchan and Kaia down. They wouldn’t do that for me.”

Before Kirishima could respond, the door clicked open again, and Momo’s voice followed.

“I’m coming too.”

Izuku and Kirishima both turned, surprised to see Momo standing there, her expression firm.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kirishima said, his voice gentle, but Momo shook her head.

“I’m not letting you go alone either. If you’re going to do this, I’m going with you.”

Izuku gave her a grateful smile, though the weight of the situation was heavy on his mind. “Thanks, Momo. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Just as the tension started to settle, the door swung open again, and Ida’s figure filled the doorway. His face was lined with worry, but his expression was resolute.

“You all are making a mistake,” Idasaid, his voice carrying the firmness of someone determined to keep his friends out of danger. “If you go now, you risk everything we’ve worked for. You’re not thinking this through. The heroes need to handle this situation. We should stay back and let them lead the mission.”

Izuku exchanged a glance with Kirishima and Momo, but before they could respond, Idastepped fully into the room, crossing his arms.

“I’m going with you,” he declared. “But only because I can’t let you all run off without an oversight. If combat breaks out, I’m calling it off. This is too dangerous.”

Izuku stared at Ida, a mix of gratitude and frustration in his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to stop us, Ida. But I get it. You want to keep us safe, and we need you. We need to keep our heads cool.”

Kirishima, already impressed by Ida’s determination, gave a firm nod. “Yeah. We can’t do this without everyone on the same page.”

Momo stepped forward as well. “But Ida’s right. We’re a team, and this mission needs to be calculated. If we go in blindly, we’ll make things worse. We need to be prepared.”

There was a brief, heavy silence, before Idasighed. “I don’t agree with this, but you’re right. I’ll make sure we don’t do anything reckless.”

Izuku gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Ida.”

The group gathered around, now ready to move forward. The plan was set. But they all knew the stakes were high, and each of them felt the weight of what was ahead.

Izuku nodded, his resolve only growing stronger. “Let’s do this.”

Kirishima cracked his knuckles, looking more fired up than ever. “Yeah! We’re gonna bring them back, no matter what it takes.”

They all knew the risks, but they were united in their purpose. The clock was ticking, and the rescue mission was set to begin.

*****

The press conference played out in the Mikage household, but the parents' focus was divided. While the reporters volleyed questions and critiques at the U.A. staff on screen, Amara, Mitsuki, Inko, and Masaru knew something the rest of the world didn't.

Behind the closed doors of their homes, in the secrecy of the dim-lit living room, they knew that at that very moment, a group of the best pro heroes—led by Zaire—were preparing for the most dangerous mission of their lives. Their children were trapped in the clutches of the League of Villains, but they were not abandoned. The rescue operation was already underway.

Amara’s hands trembled as she clutched the fabric of her shirt, her gaze fixed on the TV screen but her mind elsewhere. She knew, deep down, that her son was strong. He would make it through this. But Kaia… the uncertainty about her daughter’s condition was a weight she couldn’t shake.

Masaru stood near the window, staring out into the quiet night. His jaw was tight, but he couldn’t help the small surge of pride that bubbled inside of him. Zaire, his old friend and the father of his son’s best friend, was out there. Leading the charge. They were coming for their children, and nothing would stop them.

Mitsuki, seated on the arm of the couch, watched the screen intently, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Bakugo, but there was a nagging feeling in her chest. She was worried, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of reassurance that Zaire and the other pro heroes were actively working to bring him and Kaia back.

Inko, on the couch beside Mitsuki, kept her eyes trained on the television screen, her breathing shallow. Every word that came from the reporters made her chest tighten with anger. The accusations that U.A. had failed, that they weren’t doing enough—it all felt like an insult to everything the school had done for their children. She held back tears as she thought of Kaia and Katsuki. They was strong, she knew that, but the thought of them being so vulnerable in the hands of the League of Villains was unbearable.

And then, in the midst of the harsh words of the reporters, the camera zoomed in on Aizawa, and for just a moment, the gravity of the situation seemed to reach a boiling point.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Principal Nezu continued, “while we understand the frustration of the public, I assure you that every effort is being made to locate and rescue our students. We are working in conjunction with pro heroes and law enforcement officials. We will not stop until they are safe.”

Zaire’s voice echoed in Amara’s mind, the calm but determined words he had spoken to her just hours earlier. "Tomorrow night, our kids are coming home."

She wanted to believe it with everything in her, and the sound of Zaire’s voice, his quiet but reassuring promise, lingered in the room like a thread of hope.

“I know they’re out there,” Mitsuki murmured under her breath, glancing over at Amara, who nodded silently in return.

The camera cut to a reporter, who fired another pointed question. “Do you have any idea where these students are being held? Is there any new information on their captors?”

Aizawa’s face tightened, the shadows under his eyes growing deeper as the weight of the question bore down on him. “We are working with leads,” he answered, his voice steady. “We’re tracking every movement of the League of Villains, and we will act accordingly. Our priority is the safe return of our students.”

Just as the room held its breath, a buzzing sound filled the room. It was Zaire’s phone. He had told Amara and the others that he would be in constant contact. They had waited hours for any updates.

Inko, unable to bear the tension any longer, turned to Masaru. “He’s going to get them back, right? Zaire, he won’t let them down.”

Masaru’s gaze softened, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. “He won’t. We all know how much he cares. They’re not getting away with this.”

The phone rang again, this time vibrating more insistently on the table. Amara shot a quick look at the others, and without a word, she picked it up. The message that came through was a simple one.

“We’ve found the building, it’ll all be over soon.”

The collective sigh of relief was palpable, their shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time in days. They had their answer, even if it was just the first step. The pro heroes, led by Zaire, had reached the League’s hideout, and the rescue operation was already in motion. Their children would be coming home soon, safe and sound.

Mitsuki wiped her eyes quickly, her face lighting up with hope. Amara let out a long, relieved breath, her chest easing. Masaru gave a brief, quiet chuckle. “I knew Zaire would pull through.”

As the press conference continued on TV, the sharp criticisms and pointed questions from the reporters started to fade into the background. For the first time in days, the parents could smile—just a little. Their kids were coming home.

*****

The sun had just dipped below the skyline, casting a faint glow over the city as the evening air cooled. The bar was tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place that didn’t raise suspicion. But tonight, it was anything but ordinary.

Outside the bar, a quiet tension hung in the air. Pro heroes stood at the ready, their presence like a storm on the horizon, waiting for the signal. The likes of All Might, Edgeshot, Mt. Lady, Kamui Woods, Midnight, and Present Mic were in position—some stood outside the door, others crouched in the shadows of the alley, and a few kept watch from the rooftop, where their vantage point offered the best view. Zaire was in front of the bar, blending in with the night. He was ready.

The plan was simple: gain entry, subdue the villains, and rescue Kaia and Bakugo. But nothing was ever as easy as it sounded.

Zaire raised his fist and knocked firmly on the door. His voice was calm, controlled, and he didn’t flinch as the sound echoed off the brick walls.

"Pizza delivery."

The words hung in the air, almost surreal against the stillness of the night. Inside, a few muffled voices could be heard, and the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Then the door creaked open slightly, just enough for a figure to peer out.

A man, clad in casual clothing, a thick smirk on his face, looked Zaire up and down. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Pizza delivery?" The man laughed, his voice low and taunting. "You’re not even wearing the right uniform."

But Zaire’s eyes were cold, his stance unmoving, as if he had all the time in the world. He didn’t budge. Instead, he gave the man a small, knowing grin. He was waiting for the moment.

"Sure I am," Zaire replied smoothly. "What? You think I can’t deliver a pizza without a uniform?" His hand rested casually on the side of his waist, just inches from where his weapons were secured. "Besides, I heard this bar throws one hell of a party. Thought I’d bring a little surprise with me."

The man hesitated, looking over Zaire’s shoulder toward the alley where the other pro heroes were positioned. Zaire’s eyes flickered toward the shadows, a silent message passed through the air. The signal was clear.

The door swung wide open.

"Pizza delivery," Zaire repeated, his voice hardening with authority.

Chapter Text

The moment the glass shattered and the heroes stormed the room, the world seemed to snap back into motion. Kaia, still leaning heavily against Katsuki, blinked sluggishly as the League of Villains were pinned down, Kamui Woods’ branches binding them before they could even fight back.

But all Katsuki focused on was the man who was running toward them.

Zaire.

His footsteps were heavy but unshaken, cutting through the wreckage and chaos like nothing else mattered. His eyes locked on the two of them — his daughter and Katsuki, both looking beaten, worn, but alive. The second he reached them, he dropped to his knees and pulled both teens into his arms, one on either side, crushing them into his chest as though holding them together could make the nightmare go away.

His voice cracked as he exhaled against the top of Kaia’s head, one hand holding her protectively, the other gripping Katsuki’s shoulder like he never wanted to let go.

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he whispered, his voice full of raw, unfiltered relief.

Katsuki stiffened at first, caught off guard — he wasn’t used to this kind of comfort, this kind of concern. But he didn’t pull away. Not this time. Because the truth was, Zaire wasn’t just Kaia’s father. Over the years, with all the times the man had treated him like family — giving advice, scolding him when he deserved it, quietly looking out for him even when Katsuki didn’t ask for it — he’d become something more. A second father.

Zaire held them tighter, pressing his forehead lightly to Kaia’s and then to Katsuki’s, eyes shut as if grounding himself, needing the proof that they were both alive, that he wasn’t too late.

“You scared the hell out of us,” Zaire muttered, his voice barely steady. “But I’ve got you. Both of you.”

The knot in Katsuki’s chest loosened — just a little.

All Might approached behind him, resting a large hand on Zaire’s shoulder, silently reassuring him. The battle was already over for the villains, but the real victory was here — the kids were coming home.

And Zaire, without letting go, whispered one more thing, a promise as steady as his heartbeat:

“No one’s ever going to lay a hand on you two again. Not while I’m breathing.”

Before any sense of safety could settle, a sharp, wet sound broke through the room. Zaire froze, his arms still wrapped tightly around Kaia and Katsuki, and he felt it — a subtle shift, something unnatural.

A strange gray substance began oozing from the mouths of the restrained League members, thick and viscous like some kind of living sludge. Shigaraki, Spinner, even Toga — each one gagging as the goo surged from their throats, eyes wide but blank, as if their bodies no longer belonged to them.

Zaire’s grip tightened on the kids, alarm rippling through his veins, but then—
Kaia’s body tensed, and a wet, choked gasp slipped from her lips.

He pulled back just enough to see her, panic flooding his chest. That same grey sludge had begun pouring from her mouth too, her eyes wide in terror as she tried to draw breath, and Katsuki was right there beside her — clutching at his throat, fighting the same thing, the same suffocating sensation.

“Kaia—? Katsuki—!” Zaire’s voice cracked, calling for help, calling for All Might, for anyone.

But before the pro heroes could reach them, the substance surged, engulfing the two teens’ bodies completely. In mere seconds, the goo wrapped around them like a second skin, pulsing and growing, stretching out tendrils as if dragging them into some invisible current.

“No—NO!” Zaire lunged, trying to tear the substance away with his bare hands, but it was no use. His fingers passed through it like mist, and in the blink of an eye—

Kaia and Katsuki vanished.

Along with the entire League of Villains.

The room fell into stunned, horrified silence. Only the broken sounds of Zaire’s heavy breathing filled the air, his hands still stretched out, reaching for two kids who were no longer there.

All Might stood frozen for a long moment, his face dark and grave. Behind him, the rest of the pro heroes were scanning, searching for the next move — but the damage had been done.

The villains were gone.

And they’d taken the kids with them.

*****

In the dim, industrial sprawl of Kamino Ward, a cold silence settled over an old, rundown warehouse. The place was suffocatingly still — until the sharp, keen eyes of Best Jeanist caught movement from above.

From his vantage point, he peered down into the clearing below, the faint glow of streetlights catching on something strange. One by one, dark shapes began to fall from thin air, like raindrops suspended in time.

The League of Villains.

Kaia and Katsuki were among them, their unconscious bodies dropping into the dirt alongside the villains. The sight sent a jolt through Best Jeanist’s chest, his stomach tightening at the realization.

“Contact the others — now,” he ordered, voice low but sharp as steel.

His team was already moving, one hero raising their comm to alert the others. “All units, this is Team Beta. We’ve found them. Kamino Ward, old warehouse district. Both students and League members just appeared in the clearing — they’re alive, but unconscious. Requesting immediate backup!”

The message crackled back across the frequency, All Might and the other pros already springing into action, Zaire’s voice cutting in with urgency.

“Hold the perimeter. We’re en route.”

Back at the warehouse, Best Jeanist didn’t waste a second. His sharp eyes flicked toward the nearby building’s wide bay doors, his instincts prickling. Through cracked windows and loose siding, he could make out the shadows of large, grotesque shapes submerged in thick liquid. Nomus. Rows of them — dormant but clearly prepared for something.

“This wasn’t a random drop,” he muttered under his breath. “They wanted us to find them.”

The other pros with him — including a pair of veteran sidekicks — fanned out, securing positions as Jeanist kept his eyes trained on the two students below.

*****

Kaia’s mind swam as the last traces of whatever drug they’d used on her finally burned away, her breathing sharp and uneven as her senses sharpened. She blinked hard, her vision slowly clearing — the cold, cracked concrete of the clearing came into focus first, then the dark shapes rising around her.

The League of Villains were waking too, their groggy movements turning sharp and alert as they quickly surrounded her and Katsuki.

Beside her, Katsuki staggered upright, the weight of what just happened snapping into place the moment his eyes scanned the clearing. The two of them stood back to back without needing to speak, instincts clicking in like second nature — Katsuki ready to blast, Kaia steadying herself, her feet planting into the dirt.

Her seismic sense flared to life — stronger and clearer than it had been in days.

She felt everything.

The faint tremors of the other pro heroes on-site, surrounding the warehouse perimeter. The recognizable pace of Best Jeanist and his squad nearby. And her father’s team — tearing through the streets, rapidly closing in.

But there was something else.

A presence — cold, heavy, and suffocating.

Kaia’s entire body tensed. Her hand shot out, fingers curling tightly around Katsuki’s, and for once, the usually brash boy didn’t pull away. His head tilted slightly toward her, catching the sharp shift in her breathing, her silent warning.

Then, as if the air itself buckled under the weight of that presence, a slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoed from the upper balcony of the warehouse.

Out of the shadows emerged a tall figure. His body bulky and monstrous, draped in a tailored black suit that sat unsettlingly neat against the grotesque state of his form. His exposed hands were disfigured — his skin stretched tight over cords of muscle, his head encased in a haunting mechanical helmet with a maze of pipes and ports — hiding whatever face lay beneath.

His very existence seemed to poison the air, and even the villains standing guard around the two teens stiffened at his arrival. His voice, smooth yet utterly inhuman through the distortion of his respirator, drifted down to them.

“Well, well... still standing, are we?”
His head tilted slightly, the mechanical exhale of his breathing breaking the silence.
“You both have shown impressive resilience.”

Her mind raced.
Of course he’d be here. It had to be him. He was the only one who could pull strings like this, the only one who could reach in and rip everything apart like it was nothing.

Her thoughts flicked to her father. To Zaire and the others fighting through the city streets to find her. She knew he had to feel it — the same way she felt his presence earlier. He wouldn’t stop until they were safe. But would it be soon enough?

Beside her, Katsuki stood rigid, body coiled like a spring. His blood boiled in his veins, muscles aching to move, to fight, to blast his way out — but his instincts kept him grounded.

The second he heard that voice, the puzzle pieces clicked.

This is bigger than Shigaraki. This is the bastard pulling the strings.

His jaw clenched so tight it hurt, the words All for One spoke washing over him like acid. His mind didn’t race, not like Kaia’s — his mind sharpened, zeroing in on one singular, unshakable truth:

They took her. They hurt her. And they’ll pay for it.

Kaia could feel the tension bleeding off of him, the way his hand flexed against hers. She knew what that meant — he was seconds away from exploding. But even Katsuki, with all his pride and fury, could feel the same sick reality creeping in. They weren’t strong enough. Not here. Not yet.

All for One took a slow step forward, resting his gloved hand against the rusted metal railing, gazing down at them like a cat watching cornered prey.

“I must admit, your stubbornness is quite the spectacle. Such strong wills — wasted on the wrong side.”

Kaia’s breathing steadied, forcing herself to lock away the fear. Her father taught her better than to freeze.

Katsuki's still here. Help is coming. I just need to hold on.

But deep down, there was another voice, quieter but sharp, whispering the truth she wasn’t ready to accept.

All for One didn’t bring us here for no reason. He’s planning something.

And Katsuki felt it too. A cold certainty threading through his anger.

This wasn’t random. They want us for something. And I’ll be damned if I let him use us.

All for One’s voice carried through the clearing, smooth as silk and twice as cold.

“You’ve both been quite the topic of conversation. Such promising young talent. So much potential... wasted under the thumb of pro heroes who chain you to their ideals.”

He took another slow, deliberate step along the balcony, hands folded neatly behind his back as if this were nothing more than a polite evening chat.

“Kaia… daughter of a man who’s spent his entire life chasing shadows, pretending he can protect you from the inevitable.”
“And Katsuki… the perfect little soldier, all bite and spark. So much power, but so easily blinded by loyalty.”

Kaia swallowed hard, her throat dry, but she held her ground. The way he said her name — the way he spoke of her father — it sent ice down her spine. He knew too much. More than he should.

And Katsuki’s fury only burned hotter, fists twitching at his sides, nails digging into his palms. The idea that this monster had been watching him, waiting, treating his life like some sort of game piece made his stomach turn.

All for One continued, tilting his head slightly, almost with mock affection.

“The two of you are special, in ways even you haven’t realized yet. Strength like yours… doesn’t belong in a world of rules and limitations. You deserve freedom. Purpose.”

His voice dipped lower, more dangerous.

“The heroes won’t save you from this. The moment you walked into U.A., you signed up to be pawns in their game. But I offer more than empty promises and medals. I offer truth. I offer power without boundaries.”

Kaia’s mind was running, trying to hold her expression steady, even as her heart raced.

Truth?

A word that clung to her thoughts like glue.

What did he mean?

Katsuki stepped slightly in front of her without thinking, his protective instinct roaring to life, though his body stayed tense, calculating. If he so much as twitched the wrong way, the villains would strike.

All for One, of course, noticed the gesture. His voice lightened, as if amused.

“Protective, aren’t we? You two make a compelling pair. But don’t mistake courage for control. You’re both standing on the edge of something much larger than you understand.”

There was a pause, a stillness in the air so thick it felt suffocating.

“I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I brought you here to give you a choice. When the time comes, you’ll understand why.”

Kaia’s stomach twisted. She could feel the heroes closing in, her father was close — but even as help approached, a deeper fear settled in her chest.

This wasn’t over. This was just the beginning.

And Katsuki, jaw clenched, glared up at the man with unshakable defiance. He couldn’t figure out what the bastard was playing at — but he knew one thing for certain:

When the time came, he wasn’t giving this creep a damn thing.

Before All for One could continue, the air split with a voice both kids knew better than their own heartbeat.

“SMMMMMAAAAAASH!”

The sound was like a thunderclap as All Might came crashing in, fist colliding with All for One’s mask-covered face and sending shockwaves through the clearing. Dust and debris kicked up in a violent gust, making Kaia flinch as her seismic sense was momentarily overwhelmed by the force of the impact.

The blast scattered the League of Villains for only a moment, but it was enough for the fight to explode into chaos.

Kaia’s legs were still too weak to hold her steady — the last of the drugs clinging to her system like heavy chains. She barely managed to lift her foot, pressing it flat against the cracked earth beneath her, tuning into the world around her through vibrations rather than sight.

She could feel her father and the other pro heroes still a fair distance away, weaving through the streets at top speed — not close enough yet. But the League was moving now. Their attention had snapped back to her and Katsuki like predators sensing wounded prey.

Katsuki positioned himself squarely in front of her, teeth clenched, hands sparking to life. His usual aggressive fighting style shifted — he wasn’t going all-out, not the way he usually would. His moves were defensive, his stance wide, protecting Kaia with every ounce of strength in his body.

“Stay behind me,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Kaia, though still weak, was locked into the battlefield the only way she could be — through the earth. Her seismic sense flared, reading every footfall, every shift in weight. She could feel Spinner moving to flank them, Toga slipping through the fight with her blade, Dabi’s boots grinding against gravel as he stalked closer.

“Katsuki — left!” she managed, her voice hoarse but sharp.

He reacted on instinct, twisting to block Spinner’s approach, his explosive gauntlets sending a concussive burst that forced the lizard-like villain to fall back.

Even sluggish and pale, Kaia’s mind stayed clear enough to guide him. Every step, every attack — she called out threats with what little strength she had.

But the League wasn’t pulling back. They were closing in, trying to separate the two, knowing Kaia was vulnerable.

Katsuki’s muscles screamed from the strain, but he never stepped away, his back pressed firm against hers — his warmth the only shield she had.

All Might and All for One’s fight raged in the background like titans clashing, but in this small corner of the battlefield, it was just the two of them.

Kaia’s foot pressed harder into the ground, sensing the heroes drawing closer now — her father was almost here. She just had to hold on a little longer.

Hang on, she told herself, steadying her breath, just a little longer.

And Katsuki, never letting his guard drop, tightened his grip on her wrist for half a second — a silent promise.

I’m not letting them take you. I swear.

*****

The air shook with every blow as All Might traded punches with All for One, their strikes like two storms colliding, but deep inside his chest, his focus kept splitting — his mind anchored not to the battle, but to the two teenagers still trapped in the middle of the chaos.

Mikage. Bakugo.

His heart clenched every time his eyes flicked toward them, fighting to stand their ground against the League of Villains. He could see Bakugo’s stubborn defiance, his shield-like stance in front of Kaia, who was barely staying upright but still sharp enough to warn him of attacks.

They were brave — too brave for kids — and he knew he couldn’t give them any more time.

All Might locked eyes with All for One, fury crackling beneath his forced smile.

“This ends today,” All Might growled, voice low and unyielding. “You won’t lay another hand on them. I’ll defeat you here — and lock you away for the rest of your miserable life.”

All for One’s response was a low, cold chuckle, the sound distorted beneath his mask.

“You always were sentimental, Toshinori. Your weakness has always been your heart.”

Without waiting for a reply, All Might surged forward, propelling himself like a missile, arm cocked back, prepared to end it with one decisive punch — everything for the kids.

But the moment he closed the distance, All for One raised his hand, fingers twitching as multiple Quirks activated at once.

A blast of compressed force, laced with enhanced air pressure, kinetic energy redirection, and shockwave absorption, detonated outward like an invisible bomb.

All Might was flung backward mid-strike, crashing hard into the side of a crumbling building, the structure groaning under the impact. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself up on shaking arms, coughing hard as the last reserves of his strength held his form together.

All for One’s voice echoed mockingly across the battlefield:

“You cannot save them all, Symbol of Peace.”

And there, across the rubble, All Might’s eyes snapped back to where Kaia and Bakugo stood — the League circling like vultures, and his time running dangerously short.

His fists tightened, knuckles white. He couldn’t falter. Not now.

For them. For everyone.

*****

Kaia and Katsuki stood back to back, their breathing heavy but steady, the odds stacked against them yet neither willing to fall. Katsuki’s hands crackled faintly with sweat-triggered sparks, his body shifting protectively to shield Kaia from any attack the League might launch. Kaia, still sluggish from the drugs but sharpening by the second, kept her foot pressed to the ground — her seismic sense painting a map in her mind.

She could feel the vibrations of every step the pro heroes took as they rushed into the clearing, her father's presence strong among them, the promise of safety only meters away. For a brief second, hope flickered in her chest.

But the moment shattered.

A guttural, inhuman roar ripped through the warehouse, deep enough to rattle the ground beneath them. Both teens whipped around just as the old, rusted wall caved in with a violent crash — steel and concrete blasted outward like paper.

Two massive Nomu emerged, their grotesque forms eerily similar to the one they'd seen at USJ, only worse. Musclebound and stitched together, their eyes blank and mouths twisted into permanent snarls, they lunged forward — not toward Kaia and Katsuki — but toward the pro heroes rushing in to save them.

Katsuki clenched his fists, instinctively stepping forward even though Kaia’s hand gripped his wrist to hold him back.

“Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice still soft but edged with growing strength. “They’ve got this... the pros are here.”

But her heart hammered in her chest. She could feel her father moving in closer, his heartbeat strong and focused, but the Nomu were cutting off the heroes from reaching them. Kaia could also feel the shift in the air, the surge of quirk energy as the pro heroes braced for the monsters.

Katsuki's jaw clenched as his mind spun with frustration, his own body aching to fight, to burn them all down, to make the League pay for touching Kaia — for dragging her into this nightmare.

“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “We’re not gonna be sitting ducks, you hear me?”

Kaia met his eyes, offering the faintest nod, her seismic sense continuing to track the fight as the Nomu charged the heroes. They were both still trapped in the middle of a warzone, but the one thing keeping them steady was each other.

And this wasn’t over. Not even close.

*****

Zaire’s lungs burned from the sprint, his heart pounding harder than any battle he’d faced before. The sounds of destruction ahead — the roar of Nomu, the sharp blasts of quirks clashing — only made him run faster. His vision tunneled, every thought centered on one thing:

Kaia.
And Katsuki too, the boy he’d come to see as a second child.

They were still in the middle of it.

As he turned the last corner into the open clearing of the warehouse grounds, his worst fears unfolded before him. The League of Villains still stood, surrounding the two teenagers like vultures. But the immediate threat wasn’t them — it was the Nomu.

Two of the monsters had crashed through the walls, towering over the heroes who were trying to intercept them. Zaire skidded to a halt beside Best Jeanist and Endeavor, sharp eyes scanning the chaos until he found them.

There.

Kaia — pale, unsteady on her feet but standing, shoulder to shoulder with Katsuki who looked like hell, his usual fire dimmed by exhaustion but still sparking faintly around his clenched fists, the same fists held up ready to defend her.

Zaire’s chest clenched painfully at the sight.

“I’m here, baby girl. Just hold on.”

But there was no time for emotion. His body moved on instinct. Drawing in a deep breath, Zaire surged forward, launching himself toward the Nomu closest to the kids. His quirk flared, sending a shockwave rippling through the earth under his feet — the raw strength of it enough to knock one of the creatures back a step. It wasn’t enough to take it down, but it created space. Space for the kids.

“MOVE!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

He locked eyes with Kaia for only a split second. Even from a distance, he could see the recognition in her expression — a flicker of relief and resolve. She wasn’t broken. She was still fighting.

The other heroes, led by Best Jeanist, worked in tandem, pulling the Nomu’s focus away. But the League wasn’t letting up, trying to drag the teens back toward the shadows.

Zaire’s heart pounded harder, adrenaline roaring through his veins.

Not today. Not ever.

His fists clenched, and his quirk surged once more — this time aimed at the villains creeping too close to the teens. He’d tear the world apart before he let them lay another hand on her.

*****

Kaia’s head spun, her senses blurring under the sheer weight of the chaos. The crashing, the screaming, the quake of Nomu steps — it all pressed against her seismic sense like waves in a storm, suffocating and unrelenting. She couldn’t focus on the big picture anymore. She couldn’t tell where anyone was — only that Katsuki was still beside her, and the League was still closing in.

So she narrowed her world down to just that.

Her bare foot pressed to the ground, the faint pulse of Katsuki’s stance beside her steadying the chaos inside her mind. He stood tall, even worn thin, ready to blast the next villain that got too close. Kaia moved in sync, shifting her weight and bracing for whatever came next.

But there was something she didn’t feel.

Behind the cracked warehouse wall, crouched low and hidden from sight, Izuku’s freckled face was set with quiet fury. Ida stood beside him, engines rumbling low in his calves. Between them, Kirishima clenched his jaw, arms locked in their grasp like a living battering ram.

“Ready, Kirishima?” Izuku asked, voice tight but steady.

Kirishima nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Ida revved his engines, and Izuku’s arms lit with the bright crackle of One for All. At the same moment, on the other side of the clearing, Kaia didn’t notice the ground trembling unnaturally — but it wasn’t from villains or Nomu this time.

A massive sheet of ice exploded from the ground, surging like a wave out of nowhere, forming a towering ramp that carved a path directly into the heart of the battlefield.

Todoroki stood at the base of the ramp, palm pressed to the ground, face sharp and determined.

They weren’t going to let their friends fight alone.

Kaia blinked, her senses flooded by the cold snap in the air — a sharp contrast to the heat of battle. She barely had time to register it when Kirishima, propelled by Izuku and Ida, came flying off the pillar like a bullet, unbreakable skin leading the charge.

The fight froze — just for a breath.

Kaia and Katsuki stood shoulder to shoulder, their bodies bruised and burning with exhaustion, the League of Villains looming around them like wolves circling prey. But then, through the dust and chaos, three dark silhouettes streaked across the sky overhead.

The sun behind them cast their faces in shadow, but Kaia didn’t need her seismic sense to know exactly who it was.

A voice — rough, strong, and so achingly familiar — shattered the tension.

“COME ON!!”

Kirishima’s arm was outstretched, his fingers reaching for them like a lifeline thrown into dark water.

That was all the signal they needed.

Without thinking, Katsuki’s arm locked tightly around Kaia’s waist, steady and protective. She understood immediately — her instincts kicking in before her mind could catch up. Through sheer will and the last dregs of strength she could gather, Kaia drove her heel into the cracked ground, her hands lifting smoothly in tandem.

A stone pillar shot upward beneath them, rock and earth responding to her call with fierce loyalty. The force lifted them from the battlefield, propelling them high into the air — away from the villains, away from danger.

As their feet left the stone, Katsuki didn’t waste a second. His open palm snapped out, a sharp BOOM echoing as an explosion fired beneath them, giving their ascent the final push they needed.

The wind roared in their ears as the distance closed fast, Kirishima’s red hair blazing like a beacon against the grey sky. With a growl of determination, Katsuki shot his hand forward and Kirishima gripped it tight, bracing himself against Izuku and Ida’s combined strength.

Kirishima’s grip anchored them, hauling both Katsuki and Kaia up as Izuku and Ida skidded back, muscles straining from the weight but not faltering for a second.

Kaia’s chest heaved as she clung to Katsuki, her heart pounding in her ears — but for the first time since this nightmare began, there was a flicker of hope.

Their friends had come for them.

As the group descended, their feet hitting the ground with a soft thud in the alleyway, the rush of adrenaline didn't slow. Katsuki quickly let go of Kaia's waist, eyes scanning their surroundings, the familiar tension in his shoulders never quite easing.

Kaia stumbled slightly as the rush of power finally wore off, but she steadied herself, her hand instinctively reaching for Katsuki's. The others were already regrouping, forming a tight circle in the shadowed alleyway, out of view from the chaos still unfolding in the streets.

Todoroki and Momo were already there, their faces hard with determination, but the moment they saw Kaia and Katsuki, there was a brief flicker of relief. Momo gave Kaia a small but genuine smile, while Todoroki's eyes softened for a split second, his cool demeanor momentarily broken by his concern for the two.

Kaia’s chest still heaved with the aftermath of the fight, her body still recovering from the lingering effects of the drugs and the fight itself. She had been on edge all day, but now? Now, she could breathe. They were safe, at least for this moment.

Izuku, Kirishima, and Ida were the first to speak, their voices coming together in a chorus of urgency.

“We have to keep moving,” Ida insisted, his voice steady despite the wild look in his eyes. “The pros can’t keep this up much longer. They’re going to need backup.”

Katsuki growled in agreement, fists still clenched. “Yeah, and I’m not sticking around to be someone's damn target.”

“We need to go now,” Todoroki replied, glancing over his shoulder down the alley.

Momo nodded in agreement, her eyes scanning the group. “We’ll need to lay low for now. We can’t afford to be caught out in the open again.”

Kaia’s seismic sense began to hum again, almost soothingly, as the sense of her father and the other heroes approaching grew closer. She closed her eyes, trying to push past the exhaustion that clung to her, but it was hard. Her mind kept flickering back to the way All for One had spoken about her past. And the lingering presence she had felt earlier, just before they had been whisked away from the battle.

“Kaia,” Katsuki’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. “We need to move. You good?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“Then let’s go.”

The group moved swiftly through the alley, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the narrow walls around them. There was no time to waste. They couldn’t afford to be caught off guard. They needed to get to safety, and they needed answers.

The group weaved through side streets and narrow alleys, moving fast but trying to stay inconspicuous. Kaia stayed close to Katsuki’s side, her steps still uneven but determined. Their goal was clear: get away from the chaos, find cover, and regroup with the pros. But as they rounded a corner onto one of the broader streets, their path came to a halt.

A sea of people blocked the way — civilians, some injured, some simply frozen in place, all with their eyes locked onto the massive jumbotrons bolted to the surrounding buildings.

The entire street had gone eerily still except for the faint, crackling audio coming from the speakers overhead.

“...and it looks like the dust is finally clearing at the Kamino site...”

Kaia’s heart dropped into her stomach as she tilted her head toward the screen. There, in front of the world, the broadcast showed the battlefield. The debris cloud thinned, revealing the twisted, beaten shape of All for One — still standing.

But the camera didn’t linger on him for long. It panned, slowly, across the war-torn street to a figure standing opposite him.

A gaunt, unfamiliar silhouette stood where the Symbol of Peace should have been.

The man wore the unmistakable red, white, and blue of All Might’s hero costume — but his broad, strong frame was gone. What stood there wasn’t the powerhouse they all knew. It was a thin, frail man. His sunken face was barely visible beneath the shadows of his matted hair, chest heaving for breath.

Kaia’s breath hitched in her throat. Her mind couldn’t process what her eyes were seeing.

“That’s... that’s All Might?” Kirishima’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

The weight of the moment settled over the group like lead. For Kaia, her seismic sense had already picked up the shift in energy before the image even confirmed it. She could feel it — the staggering drop in power, the fading presence of One for All struggling to burn at its last ember.

Her chest tightened. All Might was running out of strength.

“He... he’s been fighting this whole time like that?” Ida asked, looking between his friends, his voice trembling. “All this time?”

No one answered.

The crowd around them murmured, people asking the same questions, others frozen in shock.

Kaia’s hand found Katsuki’s again, the world dulling around her except for the thudding of her heart in her ears. This wasn’t the ending she’d ever imagined — not for him. Not like this.

But even through the broadcast’s faint crackling, even with the world staring at his exposed weakness, the thin figure straightened, summoning every ounce of pride he had left.

The feed crackled as the camera zoomed in, the two men facing one another in the wreckage of Kamino. Dust hung thick in the air, but the audio cut through, sharp and clear.

“You look so tired, Toshinori,” All For One’s voice slithered through the speakers, calm and cold despite the damage he’d taken. “But before you fall, let me offer a parting gift.”

Kaia’s pulse spiked. The crowd held its breath, everyone rooted to the ground.

All For One’s twisted form straightened ever so slightly, savouring the moment.
“Your beloved mentor’s grandson... the boy you never knew existed. I found him first.” His voice carried, cutting into All Might like a blade. “I shaped him. Molded him. Broke him. I turned him into Tomura Shigaraki.”

Kaia’s breath caught. She felt the tremor that rippled from All Might’s heart, even across the city, as though his spirit had taken the blow. Katsuki’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.

The camera zoomed in on All Might’s face — pale, sunken, and for the first time, visibly shaken. Pain deeper than any injury crossed his eyes.

All For One wasn’t just fighting him with strength — he was dismantling his heart.

But the pause didn’t last long.

Through the silence, All Might’s fist began to tremble, his remaining power flickering in his battered, skeletal frame. His sunken chest heaved once, then twice, then he roared — the sound of a man pouring everything he had left into one last stand.

“YOU... WILL NOT BREAK ME!”

With a final, desperate surge, All Might pulled back his fist, his entire being burning as his muscles swelled one last time. The sky darkened as wind whipped around him, the pressure suffocating even through the screen.

“UNITED... STATES... OF... SMAAAAAASH!”

The attack came down like a meteor, slamming into All For One and shaking the entire ward. The sound rattled through the streets, through the bones of every person watching, leaving nothing but the roar of the impact and the distant groan of collapsing buildings in its wake.

When the dust finally settled, All For One lay buried beneath the rubble, unconscious — defeated.

All Might’s thin form stood in the center of the crater, his hand raised, but his back bowed under the invisible weight he could no longer hold. His breathing was ragged, his power finally extinguished. Slowly, he turned toward the nearest camera.

He raised a single finger.

“Now...young ones,” he whispered, though the world heard it as a threat to future villains. The streets around Kaia and the others broke into wild cheers, clapping, screaming in relief.

But Kaia didn’t move, her hand tightening around Katsuki’s, eyes locked on the screen. She wasn’t watching the same way the crowd was. Neither was Izuku, who stood stiff, his wide eyes filling with tears.

He understood.

That wasn’t a warning for villains.

That was a message. A farewell.

“It’s your turn.”

Izuku swallowed hard, tears falling silently as the realization hit him full force. The torch had officially passed.

The Symbol of Peace was gone.

And now it was his time to rise.

*****

The streets had long fallen behind them, and the bright chaos of Kamino’s skyline dimmed as the group finally came to a stop in an empty park — quiet, untouched by the battle that had shaken the city. The moment their feet hit the grass, it was as if the weight of the world let go, and they could finally breathe.

Kaia's legs nearly gave out the second they stopped moving, exhaustion pressing heavy into her bones. Katsuki stayed close, his usual sharpness softened, steadying her without a word. The others gathered close too, catching their breath, the weight of everything finally settling in.

Izuku was the first to step forward, his green eyes wide and still glassy from the fear he’d barely held back. Without a word, he reached for her — and Kaia, barely holding herself together, let him pull her into his arms.

He held her tight, like he never wanted to let go.

“You’re okay…” Izuku whispered, more to reassure himself than anyone else. “You’re okay…”

But once Kaia felt the warmth of his arms, the dam finally broke. The adrenaline that had carried her through — from the League’s lair to the fight for her life, to All Might’s battle and the overwhelming fear that her father might not make it in time — all of it crumbled at once.

The tears came fast and hard, silent at first as her shoulders shook against Izuku’s chest. She buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him, too overwhelmed to say a word. All the fear, the helplessness, the anger — it all poured out at once.

Izuku held her tighter, resting his chin gently on her head, rocking them slightly as if trying to shield her from the world for just a little longer. The rest of the group gave them space, their own faces showing the same mix of relief and quiet grief.

Katsuki stood close, his jaw clenched and his fists stuffed into his pockets, looking anywhere but at her, but the tension in his shoulders eased when he heard her cries. He was relieved she finally let it out — even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

No one spoke. The only sounds were Kaia’s quiet sobs and the soft rustle of the trees around them, the world finally giving them a break.

They had survived.

But the scars of the past few days — those would take longer to heal.

Even as the tears slowed and her breathing steadied in Izuku’s arms, Kaia knew her father was still out there — searching, worrying, fighting the same desperate need to find her as she had felt to survive. She gently pulled away from Izuku, wiping at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes were puffy, but a flicker of determination returned behind them.

She lowered herself to the ground, pressing her palm against the cool earth. With what little strength she had left, Kaia let a soft, controlled tremor ripple beneath her fingertips, sending it through the ground like a signal flare — not destructive, just steady and sharp, pulsing in a rhythm only her father would recognize. It wasn’t a cry for help anymore.

It was a message.

I’m here, Dad.

A few silent minutes passed. The others waited, quiet and alert, standing as a loose circle around her. Katsuki never strayed far from her side, arms crossed tightly, still keeping his eyes on the streets as if daring the world to throw anything else their way.

Then — she felt it. Through the ground, a second, familiar pulse answered back. Stronger. Steadier. Close.

Before anyone could speak, heavy footsteps rounded the corner of the park. Zaire appeared at the edge of the clearing, wild-eyed, breathing hard, his suit scuffed from battle but his focus sharp. The second his gaze landed on her, the world seemed to slow.

“Kaia,” he breathed, striding toward her, not even trying to mask the crack in his voice.

She was on her feet before she even realized it, running straight into his arms. Zaire wrapped her up tightly, one hand at the back of her head, the other around her shoulders, as if to shield her from the world itself. For a long moment he said nothing, just held her close, her heartbeat finally syncing to his steady, grounding presence.

Katsuki stood just a few steps behind her, the slightest shift of relief crossing his face. When Zaire’s eyes lifted, they met Katsuki’s for a brief second — the kind of look that said thank you without a single word, because he knew the boy had done everything he could to protect her.

Zaire’s arms opened slightly and, without hesitation, he pulled Katsuki into the hug too, as natural as breathing. He’d always seen the boy as one of his own, and after today, there was no question in his heart.

“You’re both safe,” Zaire murmured. “That’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, Kaia felt the tightness in her chest ease.

Chapter Text

Ida stood tall, despite the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders, and adjusted his glasses with a determined flick. “Bedrock, sir — you have my word. I’ll make sure Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima make it home safely.”

Zaire’s stern expression softened, just slightly. He trusted them. Trusted these kids — they’d fought harder than most adults ever could, and still stood with the same sense of duty. With a steady nod, Zaire placed a hand on Ida’s shoulder in silent thanks before turning back to his daughter.

Kaia’s hand was wrapped tightly around his, her fingers still trembling from more than just exhaustion. Katsuki stuck close to her side, his sharp gaze flicking from street to rooftop like he couldn’t fully let his guard down. And Izuku, though scratched and bruised, stayed right behind them, his face still pale with leftover worry.

Without another word, Zaire guided the three of them through the empty streets, every step pulling them farther from the chaos of Kamino and closer to home.

A dark sedan sat waiting at the curb, the red and blue lights on top flashing a muted, comforting glow. Leaning against the open passenger door, Detective Tsukauchi straightened when he spotted them, his usual calm expression bending into one of deep relief.

“Zaire,” he greeted, voice low and tired but honest. His eyes drifted to the kids, lingering just a moment longer on Kaia, seeing the clear exhaustion behind her guarded expression. “We’ve been waiting for you. Let’s get them out of here.”

The doors opened without question. Kaia slid into the back seat, still clutching her father’s hand until the last second. Katsuki sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers in a quiet, unspoken promise of protection. Izuku climbed in next, glancing at her with soft, worried eyes. Zaire closed the door gently, giving her one last glance of reassurance through the glass before circling to the front seat.

The ride was quiet — the city rolling past the windows like a distant memory. No one spoke. Kaia leaned her head against the cool glass, her seismic sense dull but content, wrapped in the presence of the people who mattered. Her father. Her best friends. For the first time in days, the weight on her chest began to loosen.

As the car pulled away from the glowing skyline, heading toward the Mikage house, Kaia allowed herself to close her eyes.

The car rolled to a stop at the end of the Mikage driveway, the engine humming quietly before clicking off. For a moment, no one moved, the silence inside the car heavy and still — like no one fully believed they were home until the world outside caught up.

But before the doors even opened, the front door of the house burst open.

“Kaia!”

Amara’s voice cracked the still air as she bolted down the porch steps, her slippers barely keeping up with her, arms wide and desperate to reach her daughter. Kaia barely managed to open the car door before her legs carried her forward, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason this time.

She met Amara halfway up the driveway, the force of the embrace nearly knocking the air from her chest, but Kaia clung to her mother like a lifeline. Amara pressed her hand to the back of Kaia’s head, holding her as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” Amara whispered, her own voice shaking, pulling her daughter closer.

Not far behind, another pair of figures hurried from across the yard — Mitsuki and Masaru. Their pace slowed only slightly when they spotted Katsuki stepping out of the car, stiff and worn, but alive.

Mitsuki’s tough exterior shattered in an instant. She reached him first, grabbing his face between her hands and brushing his wild hair back, like she had to see for herself that he was really there. Masaru placed a steadying hand on his son’s shoulder, his eyes shining with the quiet kind of relief that didn’t need words.

“You scared us half to death, brat,” Mitsuki muttered, though the shake in her voice softened the bite. Katsuki didn’t have the energy to snap back this time. He just let her hold onto him, his hands tightening into the fabric of her sleeve, the fight finally draining from his bones.

A few steps away, Inko Midoriya rushed across the pavement, her hands clutched over her heart, her eyes wide and confused.

“Izuku—” she breathed, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “I-I left you at the hospital this morning. How… how did you—?”

Izuku didn’t even try to explain, not yet. He simply stepped into his mother’s arms, letting her pull him close, his chin resting on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of home settle in at last.

The driveway held them all there, wrapped in embraces, the night air filled with quiet sobs, soft reassurances, and the sound of hearts slowly beginning to steady. The weight of everything that had happened clung to them — but for now, they were safe.

The front door stayed open as everyone slowly shuffled inside, the porch light spilling a warm glow across the tired faces moving through it. The house smelled like lavender and fresh tea, a sharp contrast to the cold, suffocating air they’d been trapped in for days.

Kaia clung to her mother’s side, her legs heavy and stiff, her hand still latched onto Amara’s like if she let go, the nightmare might pull her right back. Mitsuki guided Katsuki inside with a hand pressed protectively between his shoulder blades, while Masaru quietly went to the kitchen, already setting out cups and warming the kettle like it was second nature.

Inko kept close to Izuku, fussing gently over his dirt-smeared face and scuffed hands, not asking questions, just making sure he was close. The only sound was the soft shuffle of socks against the floor and the clink of mugs as Masaru poured the tea.

Zaire was the last to enter, standing at the door for a moment as if making sure the world outside couldn’t follow them in. He closed it with a quiet click and let out a breath he’d been holding far too long.

Everyone gathered in the living room — Kaia curled up between her parents on the couch, her head leaning against Amara’s shoulder, her body still trembling in the aftershock of it all. Katsuki sat close, wedged between his own parents, Mitsuki’s arm looped tightly around his shoulder, grounding him without a word.

Izuku stayed on the floor near the coffee table, hands wrapped around a steaming mug, his fingers twitching every so often, the fight still playing over in his head like a stuck tape.

The television was off. The house was quiet. There was no need for news or jumbotrons or sirens. Just the soft hum of the kettle and the occasional sniffle from Kaia as she sipped her tea, her head finally heavy against her mother’s arm.

Zaire pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and gently draped it over the group of kids, his large hand resting briefly on Kaia’s head, smoothing her wild curls back.

“You’re home,” he said softly. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

For a long moment, no one spoke — the silence was heavy but peaceful, like the world had finally slowed down enough to let them breathe. And as the night crept on, the exhaustion finally caught up. One by one, the kids started to drift off, their bodies giving in to the safety they’d been denied for too long.

Zaire sat back in the armchair, keeping watch over them like a silent sentinel, while the parents quietly exchanged glances of exhausted relief. There would be questions tomorrow. There would be news reports and statements and more weight to carry.

But tonight, the nightmare was over. Tonight, they were home.

*****

Morning crept into the living room slow and gentle, the first rays of sunlight pushing past the curtains and painting the walls in gold and pale blue. The scent of coffee drifted faintly from the kitchen, but the house was otherwise still — the kind of quiet that only comes after a long, hard storm.

The three of them — Kaia, Katsuki, and Izuku — sat shoulder to shoulder on the long couch, all wrapped up in the same thick blanket from the night before. The TV was on, tuned to some old cartoon rerun neither of them was really watching, the bright colors flashing across the screen not quite able to pull them out of the haze.

Kaia sat in the middle, her legs curled under her, both hands wrapped around a mug of warm tea that Amara must have set out earlier. Her head leaned lightly against Izuku’s shoulder, the other side of her resting against Katsuki’s. Neither boy said a word, but their presence was enough — their steady breathing, the occasional twitch of a finger against the cup, the quiet sound of the blanket shifting when one of them adjusted.

Katsuki sat rigid at first, still not fully relaxed even in the safety of the house, but his shoulder had gradually eased into Kaia’s, his head tilted slightly back against the couch cushion, eyes half-closed as if he wasn’t sure whether to sleep or stay awake. The sight of him without his usual scowl, his body finally still, felt almost strange.

Izuku sat on Kaia’s other side, his expression blank, hands clasped loosely around his own tea. His mind ran faster than his mouth for once, a thousand thoughts swimming beneath the surface but not a single one strong enough to break the silence. His gaze flicked to the TV every so often, but it never lingered — it always drifted back to the floor or to his friends sitting beside him.

None of them had slept deeply — the kind of sleep that came was light, broken by dreams too vivid and flashes of a voice that still echoed like a scar. But being here, in this house, surrounded by warmth and the smell of home-cooked breakfast wafting from the kitchen, was enough to keep the worst of it at bay.

Zaire was the first adult to appear, stepping quietly into the living room, wearing a plain T-shirt and sweatpants, coffee mug in hand. He paused in the doorway, his eyes landing on the three of them sitting there like they hadn’t moved an inch all night.

“You three hungry?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep but warm with care.

Kaia nodded slowly, and Katsuki grunted a quiet “yeah,” his voice hoarse. Izuku gave a small, distracted hum in response, still staring off at nothing.

Zaire didn’t press them. He just nodded once and turned back to the kitchen, leaving them wrapped in their little cocoon of silence and soft cartoon background noise.

For the first time in days, there was no immediate danger, no mission, no plan to make. Just the quiet, the warmth, and each other.

And for now, that was enough.

A few minutes later, the clatter of plates and the soft hiss of eggs hitting a skillet drifted into the living room. The smell of toast and butter followed soon after, weaving around the three kids like an invisible hand tugging them gently back toward the world.

Kaia blinked slowly, still nestled between her friends, her body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that sleep hadn’t quite fixed. Katsuki rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and Izuku stretched his legs out across the carpet with a quiet sigh.

Not long after, Amara appeared in the doorway, tying her hair up as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes softened at the sight of them — the three kids she’d known, in some way or another, since they were small, sitting together like they’d always belonged in that space.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said softly, walking over and brushing her fingers gently through Kaia’s curls before giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Come eat, okay?”

Kaia gave a small nod and unfolded herself from the couch, prompting Katsuki and Izuku to follow. The three of them shuffled into the kitchen, the warmth from the stove washing over them like a second blanket.

Mitsuki and Masaru had joined by then, setting out cups and stacking plates, both looking relieved but still carrying the edge of parents who hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. When Katsuki slid into one of the chairs, Mitsuki placed a hand on his shoulder — nothing rough or sharp, just steady, grounding. He didn’t pull away.

Inko arrived shortly after, still dressed in one of Amara’s borrowed robes, and immediately went to Izuku, placing a kiss on the top of his head before handing him a plate. She hadn’t expected to see him yesterday, not under those circumstances — but seeing him here now, safe, was the only thing that mattered.

Zaire placed a stack of pancakes on the table, sitting down last, his gaze lingering on Kaia, then flicking to Katsuki and Izuku, as if counting their faces again just to be sure.

They ate quietly at first — not out of sadness, but more because none of them knew what to say. The food settled the ache in their stomachs, the hot coffee and tea softened the tightness in their chests, and the quiet company did the rest.

It wasn’t until most of the plates were empty that Katsuki broke the silence, his voice low and rough but clear.

“We’re gonna get stronger.”

Kaia glanced at him, her hand still resting around her mug, and nodded. Izuku looked between them both, determination flickering faintly behind his tired eyes, and added softly, “We have to.”

Zaire leaned back slightly in his chair, a proud but quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t need to say it — he believed in them, even when the world felt impossible.

The quiet settled over the table again, soft and easy like a blanket, the kind that only came after days of chaos and fear. Forks rested on empty plates, mugs sat half-full, and for a while, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional bird outside the window.

But then, from the stillness, a small, unsteady sniffle broke through.

Kaia had been sitting there, hands wrapped tightly around her mug, her head slightly bowed as if trying to shrink into the warmth of the kitchen. Her body tensed the moment the sound escaped her, as if she’d tried to catch it back — but the tears were already welling in her eyes.

She hadn’t cried when she got home last night. Not fully. Not when she hugged her mom, not even when she sat on the couch between Katsuki and Izuku, safe but too numb to feel it. But now, in the morning light, surrounded by the smell of pancakes and coffee, the safety of her home finally sinking in — the weight of it all finally cracked through her armor.

A small, shaky breath hitched in her throat as the tears began to fall, silent but steady, trailing down her cheeks.

Amara was by her side in an instant, sliding her chair closer and wrapping her arms around Kaia’s shoulders, pulling her daughter close without a word. Kaia didn’t resist. She leaned in, pressing her face into her mother’s shoulder, her body shaking as the relief poured out of her in quiet sobs.

Izuku and Katsuki sat on either side, neither saying anything, but both leaning in just enough — Katsuki’s hand resting near hers on the table, not quite touching but close, and Izuku brushing his knuckles against her shoulder in quiet reassurance.

Zaire reached across the table, placing a strong but gentle hand over Kaia’s head, his thumb brushing lightly across her curls. “You’re home,” he said softly. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His voice was steady, but even he had to blink away the burn in his eyes.

The room stayed like that for a while — no rush to break the moment, no need for words. Just family, holding space for the girl who had carried too much, for too long.

When her tears finally slowed, Kaia wiped at her face, letting out a soft, breathless laugh, one that was still damp with emotion.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, voice hoarse.

“Don’t be,” Amara whispered against her hair. “You don’t have to be.”

Katsuki leaned back, crossing his arms but still keeping close, his voice low but gruff with the same kind of understanding. “You did good, Kaia. You held on.”

Izuku nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

And for the first time since it all started, Kaia let herself believe it — even if only a little.

*****

The days bled together like watercolors, slow and muted, the summer sun bright outside the windows but distant — like it belonged to someone else’s world. Kaia hadn’t stepped past the front door since they’d gotten back. Not once.

Each night, no matter how tired she was, she found herself moving quietly from her own room to her parents' bed, curling up between them just like she had when she was five. Amara never said a word, just shifted to make room and brushed her daughter’s hair with her fingers until Kaia finally drifted to sleep.

The house was quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that only comes after the worst is over — but the fear still lingers like a shadow under the furniture. Kaia lay curled against her mother on the bed, head tucked close to her side, half-watching whatever show was playing on the TV. Amara’s hand moved rhythmically through Kaia’s curls, the same way she had when she was little, while the pages of her book flipped softly every now and then.

Downstairs, Zaire was tucked away in his home office, working through hero reports and paperwork for his agency. He’d spent every spare moment keeping one ear open for his family, not that his focus was ever truly on the screen in front of him.

The sudden sound of the doorbell cut through the quiet.

Kaia’s body stiffened instantly, her heart skipping the way it always did now at unexpected noises. Amara’s hand paused only for a moment, gently pressing against her shoulder, silently reminding her: You’re safe.

Downstairs, Zaire’s chair scraped against the hardwood floor as he stood, his boots thudding softly as he moved toward the door. He peered through the side window first, instinct sharp, but the tension in his frame eased slightly as he unlocked the door.

Standing on the other side was Izuku — holding a small paper bag in one hand, and next to him, Katsuki, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual scowl a little softer, more reserved.

Zaire opened the door, leaning against the frame. His voice was calm but laced with that protective edge only a father could carry.

“Hey, boys.”

Izuku gave him a small smile, lifting the bag. “Hi, sir… we brought Kaia some snacks — thought she might want something sweet.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything at first, just nodded once, glancing at the floor before his eyes flicked up toward Zaire.

Zaire held their gaze for a beat, then stepped aside. “She’s upstairs with her mom.”

They both slipped off their shoes and moved quietly through the house, heading up the stairs. The sound of their footsteps was soft, but Kaia had already sat up, sensing them before they even reached the room. She wiped her face quickly, sitting a little straighter as the door opened.

Izuku was the first to step in, holding up the bag with an almost sheepish smile. “We, uh… brought snacks.”

Katsuki hung back by the door, hands still in his pockets, giving her a glance that was both casual and concerned.

Amara shifted slightly, giving Kaia the space to move if she wanted. Kaia hesitated, but slowly slid off the bed, bare feet padding across the carpet toward her friends.

She took the bag from Izuku with a soft, barely-there smile. “Thanks.”

Izuku nodded, the silence between them comfortable, understanding. Katsuki muttered under his breath, “Don’t get used to it.”

But his tone wasn’t sharp. Not this time.

Kaia glanced back at her mom, who gave her a small, encouraging nod before she turned back toward her friends. “Wanna go sit outside?” Izuku asked softly, giving her the choice.

Kaia didn’t answer right away, her fingers gripping the paper bag tightly. The thought of stepping past the door made her chest tighten — but when she looked at her friends, she realized she didn’t want to feel stuck anymore.

“Yeah,” she whispered finally. “Okay.”

And together, the three of them headed downstairs, the air a little lighter with every step.

The sun was warm but the breeze was cool, carrying the scent of chlorine and freshly cut grass. The three of them sat at the weathered table near the pool, the old umbrella casting a patchy shade over their heads.

The bag of taiyaki sat open between them, mostly untouched. Izuku picked at one absentmindedly, nibbling on the edge, his thoughts somewhere far away. Katsuki, as usual, had no interest in the snacks, his hands resting on the table — until his palm drifted lower, his fingers brushing against Kaia’s thigh before settling there in a quiet, steadying way.

Kaia flinched, just slightly. Her body’s reflex before her mind caught up.

But as soon as her eyes flicked down and registered the warmth, the familiarity, she eased — her shoulders lowering, her chest loosening. It’s just Katsuki.

But her mind, always so sharp and focused, wandered without permission. Back to that room. Back to the bed and the dim light, the scrape of a door opening and the slow, deliberate way Dabi had stepped inside. His voice, low and twisted, echoing in her ears even now.

The moment was so small, so quiet, anyone else would have missed it. But not Izuku. His eyes lifted from the half-eaten taiyaki, and for a split second, his gaze locked with Katsuki’s across the table.

Katsuki didn’t say anything. Neither did Izuku.

The message was clear enough without words.

Kaia stared down at the table, the wood grain blurring slightly as her thoughts drifted. The house felt safe, her parents felt safe, but her brain hadn’t caught up to her body yet. Being outside — even in her own backyard — felt foreign, like she was borrowing someone else’s life.

It was Katsuki’s thumb brushing a slow circle against her thigh that pulled her back to the moment.

Izuku leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His voice was soft, as if afraid to break the quiet bubble around them.

“You don’t have to talk about it, you know… but we’re here. Whenever.”

Kaia nodded, her throat tightening again. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack, so she simply nudged her foot against Izuku’s under the table. A silent thank you.

Katsuki stayed where he was, grounded, steady, no words needed.

They sat like that for a while — no plans, no big speeches, no forced comfort. Just quiet, easy company. Letting the sun and the breeze do the healing that words couldn’t.

*****

The next day felt… different.

Kaia sat curled into the corner of the living room couch, actually watching the show on the TV for once instead of letting it play like background noise. Her fingers rested loosely around a glass of water, the cushions still molded from where she’d barely left this spot all week. The sun had crept across the floor, the house quiet except for the voices from the TV.

After a while, the dryness in her throat pushed her to move. She set the glass down, stretching her legs out before easing onto her feet.

And that’s when she felt it — faint, but clear. The tiniest shuffle of movement, the soft scuff of sneakers against pavement, clustered together just outside the front door.

She paused mid-step, her seismic sense tingling sharp and familiar.

Not strangers.

She could pick them out, even without looking: Uraraka’s easy bounce, Asui’s light step, Jirou’s casual slouch, Yaoyorozu’s calm posture, Hagakure’s weightless shuffle, and Mina’s energetic pace all clustered at the front walk. The girls of 1A.

Her heartbeat kicked up, not out of fear — but something closer to surprise. She hadn’t seen them, hadn’t reached out, not since the rescue. But there they were, just on the other side of the door.

For a moment she stood still, her hand resting lightly against the wall, taking a breath as the sound of soft, uncertain laughter floated in from outside. Mina’s voice broke through the quiet with a bright, hopeful ring.

“...Do you think she’ll come out?”

Jirou’s voice followed, quieter but sure. “We can wait.”

Kaia stared at the door, the corners of her lips twitching — not quite a smile, but the closest she’d felt to one in days.

She turned slowly, heading for the door, her steps small but certain.

Kaia stood there for a moment, just letting the quiet anticipation build in the air. She wasn’t sure why she felt this wave of hesitation—maybe it was because she hadn’t seen them in a while, or maybe it was because she was still trying to piece herself together after everything that had happened.

She reached for the handle, her fingers just brushing against the cool metal as she took a slow breath. The warmth of the sun on her skin felt oddly comforting, the weight of the day pushing her toward normalcy, even if it felt out of reach. She exhaled, then opened the door.

The group of girls stood in front of her, wearing various shades of concern and hope. Uraraka was the first to smile brightly, her face softening as soon as their eyes met. “Kaia!” she greeted, her voice almost too cheerful, though it carried the warmth Kaia recognized from their school days.

The others stood back, allowing Uraraka to be the first one in, as she looked her over. “We, uh… we weren’t sure if you were ready for visitors, but we thought we’d come check in on you. If that’s okay, of course,” she added quickly, unsure whether to press too hard.

Kaia’s chest tightened a little, but her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded, her voice quiet at first. “Yeah, I... I think I’m ready.” Her lips curved into a small but genuine smile, though the way her eyes darted between them showed the vulnerability she hadn’t quite shaken off. It was almost like they were stepping into a new chapter together, one that she wasn’t sure she was prepared for, but deep down, she knew she needed this.

Asui gave a gentle nod, her voice steady and calm. “We’re here whenever you’re ready to talk,” she said, her green eyes soft with understanding. It was clear they weren’t just here for a visit—they were here for her, however long it took.

Jirou gave a knowing smirk, but her eyes were serious, almost like she was daring Kaia to let her in. “If you’re watching this trashy TV show all day, you’ve gotta be bored out of your mind. Thought maybe we could, uh, hang out a bit?”

Mina's bright energy couldn’t be contained for long. “Yeah! I brought snacks, and we can have a dance party or just chill, whatever you want! You’re not getting rid of us that easily!”

Kaia laughed softly, the sound foreign but relieving. She stepped aside, motioning for them to come in. “I think I could use a bit of that energy,” she said, her voice quieter but more at ease now. She stepped back into the house as the girls followed, and her seismic sense hummed with a kind of comfortable familiarity. It was different than before—the tension had slipped away, replaced by a grounded, peaceful feeling.

As they all settled in the living room, Kaia found herself sitting on the couch again, but this time, she wasn’t alone. They were with her. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself relax, even if just a little bit.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and things might not go back to normal immediately. But for now, with her friends surrounding her, the weight of the past few days felt just a little bit lighter.

*****

The black car pulled quietly into the driveway of the Mikage home, sunlight filtering through the trees as the engine turned off. The front door opened before they could even knock—Amara Mikage had been expecting them.

Inside, the atmosphere was calm, but a heaviness lingered in the air. Kaia sat on the edge of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, the TV on low in the background. She turned when she heard the familiar voice of Mr. Aizawa greeting her mother at the door.

Amara welcomed them in with a polite nod, leading them to the living room where Kaia sat. “Please, come in,” she said, offering them seats. “Would you like something to drink?”

All Might gave her a gentle smile. “Water would be wonderful, thank you.”

Once everyone settled, Aizawa began, “We’re visiting each student’s home personally to discuss a major change. Due to the increased threats against students, particularly the recent attack…” his eyes flicked to Kaia briefly, “UA has decided to implement a dorm system immediately.”

Kaia's brows drew together. She stayed quiet, but her hands clenched slightly in her lap.

“We’ll be moving all students to the UA campus. It’s the safest option, under constant surveillance and protection from heroes and staff,” All Might added, his tone softer than usual. “You’ll all live together. Eat, study, train… rest. Together.”

Amara glanced toward her daughter, watching Kaia’s subtle reaction. She reached out, placing a calming hand over hers. “You’re saying this is to protect them… but I want to know how secure this is. You’re talking about taking my daughter away again, and after everything she’s just been through, I need to know this is absolutely the best thing for her.”

Aizawa gave a slow, respectful nod. “I understand. And I agree—Kaia’s well-being comes first. UA has upgraded all security systems, developed a new perimeter protocol, and the staff will be staying on-site. No student will ever be left vulnerable again.”

“Zaire and I… we’ve barely gotten her to sleep through the night,” Amara said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “If something like that happens again…”

“It won’t,” All Might promised gently. “This move is to ensure that what happened can never happen again.”

Kaia finally spoke, her voice a little hoarse. “Will I be able to come home if I need to?”

Aizawa nodded. “Of course. You’ll have freedom—within safety protocols. We’ll keep communication open at all times. You won’t be cut off.”

Amara studied her daughter’s face. “Kaia… it’s your decision, sweetheart. We’ll support you either way.”

Kaia hesitated for a long moment. Then she gave a small nod. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Her mother squeezed her hand.

“We’ll make sure she’s safe,” Aizawa said, rising to his feet. “Thank you for trusting us.”

All Might smiled. “She’s strong. One of the strongest I’ve ever met.”

Kaia didn’t quite smile—but she did sit up a little straighter.

*****

Kaia's thumb hovered over the reply to Izuku's text, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she typed out a simple — "I'm okay... thanks, Izuku."

She set her phone down on her nightstand, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a blanket, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound until the faintest vibration reached her, subtle but distinct.

Her feet lightly touched the floor, and her seismic sense immediately sharpened, almost out of instinct rather than thought. The steady rhythm of footsteps, calm but purposeful, echoed through the hall — the weight, the pacing — it was Katsuki. She could feel the way his heartbeat matched the slow but determined pace as he made his way toward her room.

Her gaze flicked toward the door just as it creaked slightly, the handle turning. She didn’t have to wonder how he got in — her mom must have opened the door for him, probably wordlessly as always, understanding the unspoken comfort he brought her lately. Amara always noticed, even if Kaia never said a word.

The door opened just enough for him to peek his head in, his sharp red gaze softening a little when it landed on her.

“...Hey,” he muttered, voice lower than usual.

Kaia’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of him, and without needing to say anything, she simply nodded. The tension that always sat heavy on her chest since that night eased just a little as he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

She shifted on the bed, leaving space, and Katsuki settled beside her without another word. Sometimes his presence alone was all she needed. She looked over, “Katsuki, they told me you were safe and unharmed – was that true? Did they hurt you in anyway?”

At her question, he let out a quiet scoff, not out of rudeness but to steady himself — the truth was still something he hadn’t completely wrapped his head around either.

“Tch... I’m fine,” he muttered, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “They didn’t lay a hand on me. Not like... not like you.” His eyes flicked toward her for a split second before lowering again, jaw tightening slightly. “You were the one they wanted to mess with.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. His voice was quieter when he added, “They told me the same thing. Said you were fine, said you were nearby. But even hearing that... I didn’t believe a damn word of it.”

There was a pause where neither of them said anything, the soft hum of her phone resting in her lap the only sound in the room.

Katsuki glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “When I heard your voice through the wall, though... that was the only time I actually believed I’d get out of there.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know if you’d make it. But you did. We both did.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind of silence that stretched long enough to make the air feel heavy, pressing against her chest.

Kaia inhaled, steadying herself as the words sat on the edge of her lips. She hadn’t planned to tell him — not tonight, maybe not ever — but the weight of it had become too much to carry alone. Her voice came out small, barely above a whisper, cracking under the strain of holding back the storm inside.

“...There was one night,” she started, the tremble in her tone betraying the calm front she tried so hard to maintain. She swallowed hard, her next words almost catching in her throat. “Dabi came into the room.”

That was all it took.

She didn’t need to say anything else — the way her body instinctively curled into itself, shrinking away as if the memory alone could suffocate her, told him everything he needed to know. Katsuki’s chest tightened, his mind instantly snapping back to that moment by the pool.

That small, barely noticeable flinch. The way her shoulders tensed the second his hand brushed against her thigh — he'd noticed it, and so had Deku. He could see it clearly now, the connection hitting him like a sucker punch.

That wasn’t fear of him.
That was trauma.

His throat bobbed with a sharp inhale, hands balling into fists against his knees for a moment, fighting the growing rage clawing at his chest. But when he glanced at her again, the only thing he felt was the ache of seeing her like this — small, withdrawn, trying so hard not to fall apart.

Slowly, he reached out, the movement careful, as if giving her the choice to pull away. His arm came around her shoulders, offering silent reassurance rather than forcing it. When she didn’t resist — when her body leaned just slightly toward him — he shifted, guiding her gently until his back pressed against the headboard.

Without a word, he pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. His arms wrapped around her protectively, not to fix anything, but simply to let her know she wasn’t alone. She settled against him, her head finding its place on his shoulder, the warmth of his chest grounding her in the here and now.

For a while neither of them spoke. The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of his breathing and the faint hum of the ceiling fan overhead. Kaia’s fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like an anchor — and Katsuki held her just a little tighter in return, resting his chin lightly on top of her head.

No bravado. No sharp-tongued remarks. Just him and her, and the silent understanding that whatever scars she carried, he wasn’t going anywhere.

*****

The quiet echo of footsteps filled the empty halls of U.A. High, a rare stillness hanging in the air that felt almost foreign compared to the usual rush of students and chatter that flooded the corridors on a normal school day. Kaia walked alongside her father, Zaire — who, for once, wasn’t in his usual agency uniform or buried under a mountain of hero work. His rare day off had lined up perfectly with her Sunday morning appointment, and even though his expression stayed calm, Kaia could tell he was grateful for the quiet moment between them.

They moved at an unhurried pace, the kind of walk that didn’t need to be filled with words. When they reached the door, Kaia paused, her gaze lifting to the simple gold nameplate mounted at eye level:

Nemuri Kayama / Midnight

The click of a lock broke the silence as the door swung open, revealing Midnight standing casually in the doorway. Gone was the bold, sharp look of her hero costume; instead, she wore a relaxed outfit — fitted black joggers and a loose, cozy sweatshirt — her signature confidence still lingering in her posture, but softened for the morning.

Her lips curved into a welcoming smile when her eyes flicked between Kaia and Zaire. “Bedrock,” she greeted, using his hero name with an ease that suggested long-standing respect. “Right on time.”

Zaire returned the greeting with a small nod, his usual stoic calm wrapped in a thread of warmth only his daughter ever really saw. “I’ll be waiting in the car,” he said, glancing down at Kaia for a brief moment. “Take your time.”

Kaia nodded, watching him retreat down the hall before stepping inside Midnight’s office. The space felt different from the typical staff rooms — less formal, more personal. There were soft throw blankets folded neatly over the back of the couch, a diffuser filling the air with the faint scent of lavender, and a small collection of potted plants lined the windowsill.

Mr. Aizawa had offered her the choice early on. If speaking to him ever felt too heavy or uncomfortable, Nemuri Kayama’s door was always open. Though Midnight wasn’t the official school counselor, Aizawa had trusted her enough to offer Kaia this option — the choice of a female voice, one with enough strength to understand what Kaia was navigating, but also the compassion to listen without judgment.

And so, every Sunday, this had become their routine.

Once Kaia settled onto the soft couch, Midnight sank into the chair across from her, crossing one leg over the other. “So,” she started, her tone easy but open, “Ready for the big move into the dorms? You have about two weeks I think.”

Kaia tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice steadier than she expected. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Nemuri tilted her head slightly, waiting.

Kaia exhaled, her gaze lowering to the floor for a moment before meeting Midnight’s eyes again. “I think it’ll be nice... being around everyone again. My classmates.” Her voice softened as she continued, her words carefully measured. “After everything that happened... I could use that normalcy. I want to feel like I belong again, like I’m not just stuck in the past.”

Midnight nodded, her expression thoughtful, but kind.

Kaia hesitated, her next words barely more than a whisper. “But it’s hard too. I’ve gotten used to being home. Having my parents close. Knowing they’re just a room away.” She swallowed, blinking against the sting at the corners of her eyes. “Leaving them... even if it’s only for a little while, it just feels heavier this time.”

Nemuri leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees, voice low but sure. “That’s not something you have to rush through, Kaia. Missing them doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

Kaia nodded slowly, breathing out the smallest laugh — one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was a start.

The session drifted on, the conversation gentle and unrushed, like the quiet first steps of healing.

Chapter Text

Katsuki Bakugo is unraveling quietly.

Not in the loud, explosive way most people expect from him — but in the silent weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders.

The day after the rescue felt surreal. The sun filtered through the kitchen window of the Mikage house, warm and soft, as if the world hadn’t just come crashing down less than 24 hours ago. They’d all gathered around the table — the Mikages, the Midoriyas, and the Bakugos — trying to pretend, for a little while, that things were normal. That the bruises and hollow looks weren’t there. That the weight in the air wasn’t suffocating.

Katsuki barely touched his food. The voices around him blurred, his mind drifting back to the night before.

It all played on loop — sitting in front of the League of Villains, staring down Shigaraki’s hand-covered face and Dabi’s hollow smirk. His hands clenched into fists at the memory of Kaia being dragged in, drugged and half-conscious, the way her body slumped against him when they dropped her at his side.

His chest tightened. He’d held her upright, whispering her name under his breath, even as she barely registered it.

And then the warp — Kamino Ward. Chaos unfolding all around him, but all he could focus on was shielding Kaia as the League closed in, fighting them off with what little strength he had left. He’d been ready to go down swinging, even if it killed him.

Then that moment — seeing Deku, Kirishima, and Ida rocket toward them, propelled by Todoroki’s ice ramp like it was straight out of a damn comic book. For the first time since the whole nightmare started, he felt like the odds had tilted, just barely, back in their favour.

And then the jumbotron. The whole world watching. All Might’s final battle.

Katsuki had stood there, frozen, unable to look away as the symbol of peace — his childhood hero — burned the last of his power to save them. To save him.

That image haunted him the most.

The ride back to the Mikage house had been quiet. No one had spoken much, and when they pulled into the driveway, his mother had barely waited for the car to stop before she was out and rushing toward him, grabbing him so tightly it knocked the air from his lungs. For once, he didn’t fight her on it.

His father was there too, pulling them both into his arms, and for that single moment, Katsuki let himself feel it — the relief, the exhaustion, the fact that he was still alive.

But it hadn’t lasted.

Now, standing in the doorway of his home just a few streets away from the Mikages', everything felt... off. The walls were the same. His room was untouched. But he wasn’t the same.

He climbed the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind him, and sank onto his bed, elbows on his knees, head hanging low.

He should’ve been strong enough to stop it all.

Kaia. All Might. Everything.

But he wasn’t. And that truth settled over him, heavier than any wound.

*****

Katsuki sat slumped on the living room couch, eyes unfocused on the muted TV screen playing some show he wasn’t really watching. His mind kept circling the same damn loop — Kamino, the League, Kaia, All Might. The quiet of the house felt foreign, almost too peaceful for the storm still chewing at his chest.

The sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the silence, pulling him out of the spiral. He pushed himself up, dragging his feet toward the door, and swung it open.

Standing there, slightly out of breath like he’d half-jogged from his place, was Izuku. His usual nervous smile was softer, more thoughtful this time, and in his hands were two plastic convenience store bags brimming with snacks.

“Hey, Kacchan,” he said, holding one of the bags out. “Figured you could use this.”

Katsuki stared at it for a second, expecting some dumb speech or awkward apology. Normally he’d bark at him, tell him to shove it or leave him alone — but today, the words didn’t come. His hand lifted on its own, taking the bag, and he stepped back just enough to let Izuku into the entryway.

He placed the bag on the counter, the crinkle of plastic the only sound in the room for a moment.

Izuku’s voice cut through gently. “The other one’s for Kaia.”

Katsuki glanced at the second bag, his stomach tightening. Of course Deku thought about her. He always did.

“I was just about to head over to her place,” Izuku added after a pause, voice soft. “Want to come with me? She’d probably like to see you too.”

For a second, Katsuki didn’t answer. The idea of seeing her again, outside of the whirlwind of flashing cameras, and worried parents, felt... heavy. But he also couldn’t ignore the tug in his chest, the part of him that needed to see with his own eyes that she was okay. That they both were still here.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, grabbing the bag off the counter. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of them stepped out into the quiet street, walking side by side toward the Mikage house — not as rivals, not as enemies — just as two kids who’d both survived something no one else could ever really understand.

The walk to the Mikage house was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The neighbourhood felt eerily calm compared to the chaos of the last few days — birds chirped, the breeze was warm, and the world had the nerve to keep moving, like nothing had happened.

When they reached the familiar doorstep, Izuku pressed the doorbell. Almost immediately, the door swung open, and standing there was Zaire Mikage.

Even out of his hero gear, Zaire still had that quiet strength about him — broad-shouldered, calm-eyed, the kind of presence that made you feel both safe and like you’d better watch your manners. Katsuki had always respected him, but that respect had rooted even deeper after everything.

Zaire had been the first one to reach them when the pro-heroes raided the League’s hideout, sprinting straight through the smoke and wreckage to Kaia and Katsuki. And after the dust settled — after All Might’s final blow had echoed across the sky — Zaire had been the one searching the park, calling their names until he found the group of shell-shocked students huddled together, waiting to be collected.

Now, as he looked at the two boys, his usually sharp expression softened. He reached out, ruffling both their heads the way he always did when they were younger, as if no time had passed — as if they hadn’t both aged years in the last few days.

“You boys holding up?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

Neither of them answered right away, but their silence seemed to tell him enough. Zaire gave them both a small, understanding nod.

“She’s upstairs with her mom,” he added, stepping aside. “Master bedroom.”

The boys slipped off their shoes and moved through the house — a house Katsuki had practically grown up in alongside Kaia. The walls were lined with family photos, the smell of whatever Amara had been cooking still hanging faintly in the air. Even with the familiarity, something about it felt heavier now.

They climbed the stairs, each step a reminder of how close they'd come to not making it back here at all.

When they reached the master bedroom door, Izuku glanced at Katsuki for just a second, giving him the space to knock if he wanted. But neither of them had to.

From inside, they could already hear the soft murmur of Kaia’s voice, and her mother’s quiet, soothing responses — nothing loud, nothing urgent. Just the comfort of home.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Katsuki exhaled, some of the weight easing off his chest.

Izuku lifted his hand and knocked gently against the doorframe. A soft “Come in,” filtered through from the other side, and the two boys stepped inside.

Kaia sat propped against the headboard of her parents’ bed, her mother beside her, fingers absentmindedly smoothing over her daughter’s curls like she had when Kaia was small. The sight of her — dressed in an oversized hoodie and leggings, dark circles still haunting her eyes but the faintest hint of color returning to her face — stopped Katsuki for a second.

It had only been a few days since they left the Mikage house after the rescue, but those days felt longer than anything he could measure. Back then, she could barely lift her head without help, her body too battered, too tired, her spirit still somewhere else. Now, even though her smile was small, it was real when she noticed them.

Izuku, always the first to fill silences, held up the bag of snacks with a little lopsided grin.
“Figured you could use something to munch on,” he said. “I got your favorite.”

Kaia let out the softest huff of a laugh, the kind that barely touched the surface but still cracked through the heaviness in the room. “Thanks,” she murmured, taking the bag from his hand. She glanced between them, her gaze lingering on Katsuki for a moment longer.

Katsuki stood there with his hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets, staring — not in the way that made people uncomfortable, but in the way someone might look at the ocean after a storm, still trying to make sense of the wreckage.

When Kaia offered her thanks, her voice quieter, more genuine, he shifted his weight and muttered under his breath, “Don’t get used to it.”

But his tone wasn’t sharp. Not this time. No bark, no bite — just something low and steady, almost careful.

The trio moved through the house, the halls still feeling heavy with the weight of recent memories. Out in the backyard, the afternoon sun was starting its slow descent, casting a soft golden light across the pool.

The sun was warm against his back, but the breeze was sharp enough to cut through it. That mix of heat and cool, the scent of chlorine from the pool and the sharp bite of freshly cut grass — it was so normal it almost pissed him off. Like the world hadn’t just been flipped inside out.

The three of them sat in the Mikages’ backyard. The umbrella overhead had seen better days, patchy and faded, barely throwing enough shade to matter. The bag of taiyaki sat open between them, mostly untouched. Izuku had one in his hand, but he wasn’t really eating it — just picking at the edge like his brain was running laps somewhere else.

Katsuki hadn’t touched the snacks, not like he ever really cared for sweets. His hands rested on the table, fingers twitching slightly in the silence. But after a moment, like instinct, his hand drifted lower, brushing against Kaia’s thigh. Not grabbing, not holding — just settling there, a quiet anchor.

He felt it. The sharp little flinch.

It was small. Barely there. But to him, it was deafening.

Her body reacted before her head caught up. And when she didn’t pull away, he didn’t move, didn’t even glance at her — just kept his hand where it was. Steady. Not forcing her to talk, not pretending like everything was fine.

Across the table, Izuku must’ve noticed too. His eyes lifted from the half-eaten taiyaki, locking onto Katsuki’s for a brief second. No judgment, no pity. Just the same quiet understanding that had hung between them since Kamino.

Katsuki didn’t say a damn thing.

Didn’t need to.

His thumb moved, slow and light, tracing a circle against the side of her thigh. He felt her breathing ease out, like it finally hit her that she wasn’t trapped anymore. That she wasn’t alone.

Izuku leaned in a little, his voice barely above a whisper. Like even he was scared of shattering the fragile peace hanging over the three of them.

“You don’t have to talk about it, you know… but we’re here. Whenever.”

Kaia gave the smallest nod, her throat working like she couldn’t trust her voice. Instead, she nudged Izuku’s foot under the table. Katsuki caught the soft scrape of fabric against concrete. A silent thank you.

And still, he stayed put. His hand never moved.

No lectures. No bullshit. Just the three of them sitting there — the sun, the breeze, the weight of everything they weren’t ready to say yet — all settling around them.

For once, silence didn’t feel heavy.
It felt right.

*****

The house was quiet, for once. Katsuki sat on the living room couch, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the floor even though his mind was miles away. His old man, Masaru, sat in the armchair nearby, a mug of coffee cradled loosely in his hands, more for something to hold than for the taste.

The doorbell rang, sharp and short. Mitsuki had barely waited for Masaru to stand before she was already moving, swinging the door open with her usual bluntness.

Standing there, dressed sharp and serious, were Aizawa and All Might. The sight of them side by side still didn’t sit right in Katsuki’s stomach. The reminder of everything that had happened at Kamino hung heavy between them.

“Come in,” Mitsuki said, stepping aside. Her voice was polite, but her usual edge was there — the kind of edge that came from weeks of stress and no sleep.

They filed into the living room. Aizawa with his usual blank stare, hands stuffed into his pockets like always. All Might, in his thin, gaunt form, offering the softest smile he could manage.

They didn’t waste time.

Aizawa was the first to speak, his voice low but even. “We’ve made arrangements. Starting this week, all students in the Hero Course will be moving into dorms on campus. Security’s been overhauled. It’s for their safety.”

Mitsuki crossed her arms, planting her feet. “So that’s it? After everything, you want him under your roof again?”

All Might stepped forward, voice gentle but firm. “It’s the safest option we can offer right now. Given recent events, we’ve tightened security as much as possible. The school’s no longer just a place for lessons — it’ll be a home.”

Katsuki stayed quiet, his jaw tight, knuckles pressed hard against his knee. He wasn’t dumb. He knew this wasn’t just about “safety.” This was about control. About keeping them close after what happened to him — to Kaia.

Masaru finally spoke up, quiet but supportive, the same way he always was when his wife’s temper ran hot. “It’s not forever, right? Just until… things settle.”

Aizawa gave the faintest nod. “Until the League is dealt with, and until we’re sure there’s no further risk. We’ll notify you of any changes.”

Mitsuki exhaled through her nose, sharp and irritated, but not at them — at the situation. At the fact her son had been dragged into all this at all. She glanced at Katsuki, her voice softening just slightly. “You okay with this?”

His answer was short, rough around the edges, but honest.

“Yeah. I get it.”

Because he did. He wasn’t the same kid that walked into U.A. the first day thinking he’d bulldoze his way to the top. Not after Kamino. Not after seeing All Might fall. Not after Kaia.

Mitsuki huffed, waving a hand toward the two pros. “Fine. If it keeps him from ending up in the middle of another damn war zone, I’ll pack his bags myself.”

All Might’s smile wavered, but he dipped his head, grateful. Aizawa offered a simple, “We’ll take care of him.”

And for once, Katsuki didn’t snap back. He just nodded.

Later that afternoon, Katsuki found himself wandering the neighbourhood streets, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, head low, letting his feet choose the path for him. The world felt quieter than it should’ve been — or maybe he was just too deep in his head to notice.

He didn’t even realize where he was going until he looked up and found himself standing in front of the Mikage house.

His throat worked around a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He raised a hand, pressing the doorbell. A few moments later, the door swung open.

Amara stood there, her expression flickering from mild surprise to something softer the second her eyes landed on him. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to. Amara had known him too long — longer than most. Long enough to recognize that look on his face, the one he didn’t show at school or at home. The one that said too much was sitting heavy on his chest and he hadn’t figured out where to put it yet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said quietly, stepping aside without hesitation. “She’s upstairs.”

Katsuki dipped his head slightly — not a full thanks, but enough. His steps were slow on the stairs, every creak under his feet louder than the last.

He stopped just outside Kaia’s bedroom door, staring at the scuffed wood, hand hovering inches from knocking. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the AC and distant city noise bleeding through the windows.

For a second, he just stood there, trying to piece together why his feet had brought him here in the first place. Part of him wanted to turn around. Pretend he didn’t need this. Pretend the ache in his chest wasn’t crawling higher every time he closed his eyes and saw that night all over again — the villains, the fight, her slumped against him, and the final swing of All Might’s fist.

The door cracked open just enough for him to lean his head in, sharp red eyes scanning the dim room until they landed on her. His chest eased, just slightly. She looked the same — tired, yeah, but breathing. Still here.

"...Hey," he muttered, voice rough and low, stripped of its usual sharpness.

The second her eyes met his, he saw her shoulders relax, like some invisible weight had let up, even if only for now. She didn’t say anything at first, just nodded — simple, easy — like that was all the permission he needed.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with more care than he usually gave anything. The room smelled faintly of her, something soft and familiar that crawled under his skin, settling the noise in his head for the first time all day.

She shifted on the bed, wordlessly making space, and he moved without thinking, lowering himself onto the edge beside her. No smartass remarks, no cocky grin. Just quiet. Sometimes it was the only thing that helped, for both of them.

It was her voice that cut through the silence, soft but heavy.
"Katsuki, they told me you were safe and unharmed — was that true? Did they hurt you in any way?"

For a second, the question didn’t land. Or maybe it did, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer right away. His throat worked around a breath before he let out a quiet scoff, not the usual sharp, dismissive kind — but the kind that held things back. Things he hadn’t figured out how to say.

“Tch... I’m fine,” he muttered, the words falling flat, missing their usual bite. "They didn’t lay a hand on me. Not like... not like you."

His eyes flicked toward her for only a second before dropping again, jaw locking up as the memory edged closer than he wanted.
"You were the one they wanted to mess with."

His elbows rested on his knees, hands laced tight like it was the only way to keep steady. The words tasted bitter, but he let them fall anyway.

"They told me the same thing. Said you were fine, said you were nearby. But even hearing that..." His voice dipped lower, barely above a whisper. "I didn’t believe a damn word of it."

The room settled back into silence, the faint buzz of her phone in her lap filling the space. For once, the quiet wasn’t suffocating — it was just... there. Existing between them.

His gaze shifted, catching her profile from the corner of his eye.
"When I heard your voice through the wall, though..." His throat tightened slightly, but he pushed the words out. "That was the only time I actually believed I’d get out of there."

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, fingers lingering there as his eyes drifted back to the floor.
"I didn’t know if you’d make it. But you did."
A small breath, steadying.
"We both did."

The silence between them stretched so long it felt like the damn air was pressing against his chest, heavy and sharp. He could feel the weight building before she even spoke, like the words were clawing their way up her throat but kept getting stuck.

Kaia’s breath wavered, the kind of inhale people took when they were trying to hold themselves together with fraying thread. He saw it before he heard it — the crack in her voice when the words finally slipped past her lips.

“...There was one night,” she started, soft, so soft he almost missed it. His jaw tensed.
She was shaking. He could hear it plain as day, the kind of tremble that made his stomach twist tight.

Her next words barely made it out.
“Dabi came into the room.”

And that was it.

That was all she had to say. The second those words hit the air, Katsuki felt something snap — sharp, clean, and cold. His mind didn’t need the details. The way her body folded in on itself, shrinking like just saying the bastard’s name burned her from the inside out, told him more than enough.

His chest tightened, breath locking behind his teeth. His thoughts spun back to that moment by the pool — the flinch. That small, barely-there reaction when his hand had brushed her arm. The tension that had sunk into her shoulders before she even knew it was him.

It wasn’t fear of him. It never had been.

That was Dabi’s doing. That was trauma.

The realization hit harder than any villain ever had. His hands curled into fists, knuckles straining white against his knees as his heart thudded like it was trying to tear out of his ribs. Rage curled in his gut, hot and wild, the kind that made his blood sing with the urge to destroy something — someone.

That bastard.
That bastard touched her. Broke her. Made her look like this.

But when he looked at her again, drawn small and hollow beside him, the fury dulled under something heavier — something worse. The pure ache of seeing her like this. Broken in a way he couldn’t fight off for her.

Slowly, without a word, he reached out — careful, measured, like he was offering her a choice instead of forcing it. His arm hovered before settling around her shoulders, light at first, ready to back off if she so much as twitched.

She didn’t.

She leaned into him instead, barely, but enough.

Katsuki shifted, guiding her with him until his back hit the headboard, pulling her close until she fit against him. His arms wrapped around her, secure, protective — not to fix it, not to erase what had been done — but to ground her. To tell her without words that she wasn’t alone, that no matter what that bastard did, he wasn’t letting go.

She settled against his chest, head pressing lightly into his shoulder, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt like if she let go, the whole world would cave in.

And he held her tighter.

The room stayed quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the steady, even rhythm of his breathing. His chin rested against the top of her head, his jaw still locked tight — the fury still there, burning under his skin, but buried beneath something stronger.

No bragging, no barking, no tough-guy act.
Just him.
Just her.
And the unshakable promise that whoever tried to break her, he’d tear apart. Piece by piece.

*****

The house was too damn quiet. Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair, staring at the floor like it might give him some kind of answer.

“Tch... stupid,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tightening. “All of it.”

His room was dark except for the streetlight bleeding through the window blinds. He hadn’t bothered turning anything on. Didn’t need light to feel the weight pressing against his chest.

He let out a sharp breath, fists clenching until his knuckles ached.

“This is on me. All of it. Damn League… damn Dabi.” His voice wavered, quieter this time. “Her.”

The memory flashed like a reel he couldn’t stop — Kaia’s voice through the wall. Fragile, but steady. The only goddamn thing that kept him sane in that hellhole. And now? Now he knew. Now he knew what they’d done to her. What he hadn’t stopped.

His throat bobbed around the lump that’d been there since the night of the rescue.
“All because I wasn’t strong enough.”

His leg bounced restlessly, rage crackling in his chest but going nowhere. He scrubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down roughly, trying to shake the exhaustion off.

“They said it wasn’t my fault.” He snorted bitterly, shaking his head. “Aizawa. All Might. Even her. None of ‘em blamed me.”

But he did. He always would.

His voice dropped to a low, bitter mutter. “Should’ve known better. Should’ve fought harder. Should’ve done something.”

Silence answered back, stretching thick around him.

He tilted his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling now, teeth gritting against the burn in his chest.

“Kaia... you’re the one who got hurt. Not me. And all you did was worry if I was okay.” His hands curled into fists again, fingernails digging hard into his palms. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing for you.”

The memory of her, curled in on herself, that soft, shaking voice admitting Dabi had cornered her — it was like someone reached into his ribs and twisted.

“They won’t lay a hand on you again,” he muttered, voice low and cold now. A promise, plain and simple. “I don’t care who the hell I have to burn through. League. Dabi. Anyone.”

His eyes flicked toward his phone on the nightstand, screen dark and untouched. He wanted to call her. Wanted to hear her voice — but he couldn’t. Not like this. She needed him solid, steady. Not the wreck he was turning into behind closed doors.

He leaned forward again, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the floor until his voice barely crawled out.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, like the words were meant for her even if she wasn’t there. “I won’t let you be.”

And then the silence swallowed the room again. But this time, he sat there. Waiting it out. Because even if his hands were tied back then — next time, he’d tear the world apart before it touched her again.

The sharp buzz of his phone rattled against the nightstand, cutting through the silence like a blade. Katsuki flinched, dragging his gaze toward it, expecting some dumb group chat or a reminder he’d forgotten to clear.

But the name on the screen stopped him cold.
Kaia.

For a second, he just stared. His thumb hovered over the answer button before finally pressing it, holding the phone to his ear but not saying a word.

Her voice came through, soft but steady.
“...I can feel you.”
There was a pause, just long enough for her to swallow the lump in her throat. “Your distress. I can feel it from my house.”

Katsuki’s grip on the phone tightened, jaw locking like it always did when his walls wanted to go up — but her voice softened that edge before he could pull them too high.

“I’m not trying to get you to talk about it. You don’t have to.” She exhaled quietly, and he could hear the weight in her voice — the kind of weight that only came from knowing exactly how bad it felt to carry something alone. “I just... I wanted you to know I’m here. I got so caught up in everything I’ve been feeling, I forgot you’ve been hurting too.”

Katsuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again, phone pressed tighter to his ear. His throat worked around the words stuck there, but none of them came out — not yet.

Kaia’s voice stayed soft, steady. The same way she always sounded when she was trying to pull him back from the edge.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you.”

And for once, Katsuki let himself sink into that quiet. No bravado. No biting remarks. Just the sound of her voice, grounding him, steady and sure.

After a long beat, his voice finally came through, barely more than a mutter.
“...You always do.”

The line stayed open. Neither of them rushed to hang up, and Katsuki didn’t care how long they sat in silence — because for the first time that night, the room didn’t feel so heavy.

Neither of them said much after that.

The silence on the line wasn’t awkward, not like it usually was with other people. It was comfortable. Grounding. Katsuki lay back against his headboard, phone resting against his ear, listening to the quiet little sounds from her end — the faint rustle of her blankets, the occasional shift as she moved, the softest exhale when her breathing evened out.

Every once in a while, Kaia’s voice would drift through, low and half-whispered, like she was afraid of breaking the calm.

“You don’t have to hold it all in, you know,” she said once, barely louder than the sound of the wind outside. “Even when I couldn’t see you… I could feel it. How heavy it’s been.”

Katsuki didn’t answer right away, didn’t trust his voice not to crack under the weight of it. Instead, he closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the wall, and focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing. Somehow, it was easier to breathe with her on the other end of the line.

Minutes slipped by. Maybe longer. Neither of them hung up.

At some point, her voice came through again, this time softer, already edged with exhaustion.
“I’m not going anywhere, Katsuki. Not tonight. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

He meant to argue, to tell her he was fine, that she didn’t need to babysit him — but the words never left his throat. His chest eased, the tightness dulling, just enough for the exhaustion to finally settle in.

“…Same here,” he mumbled, barely audible. “I’ll stay too.”

She let out a quiet, content hum. And slowly, the space between them didn’t feel so far apart anymore.

The night stretched on, the call still open, neither of them hanging up.

When Kaia’s breathing finally softened into sleep, Katsuki listened for a little while longer, the sound lulling him in. His own eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time since the League took them, the storm in his head went quiet.

When sleep finally came, it wasn’t the usual restless kind.
It was steady. Calm.

Chapter Text

Summer “vacation” was over.

At least, that’s what everyone kept calling it — like the past few weeks hadn’t been anything but recovery, therapy sessions, sleepless nights, and trying to pretend like the world hadn’t cracked beneath their feet.

Move-in day at Heights Alliance had finally arrived. The official time was set for 11 a.m., but Kaia and her parents showed up early. 9:00am sharp. First ones through the gate.

She wasn’t trying to make a statement. She just needed the quiet.

The dorms were still. Empty. The floors echoed beneath her shoes as she walked the hall, her room key cool and unfamiliar in her hand. No laughter, no chatter, no shouting from her classmates. Just silence. And for once, she was grateful for it.

Her parents didn’t linger long — they knew better than to hover, especially now. Hugs were exchanged, quiet ones, and promises to call. The second they left, the emptiness settled in around her like a blanket, heavy but expected.

She unpacked slowly, methodically, each fold of clothing, each photo frame, each little piece of home finding its place on the shelves. There was no rush. She wasn’t in any hurry to see anyone. Not yet.

The girls came to her house, of course.

Their knock on her door was soft, patient, waiting for permission rather than assuming. And she let them in. Their presence was familiar, easy in a way that didn’t demand too much from her. They didn’t press her with questions or expect smiles. They just sat with her, talked about nothing, filled the space until it didn’t feel so suffocating.

She’d spent time with Izuku, and Katsuki too. Those two — in their own ways — were the only ones she felt capable of facing head-on. Izuku’s quiet optimism had always been gentle with her, and Katsuki… Katsuki understood the silence. He never pushed. Never forced. Just existed beside her, sharp edges dulled down when it came to her.

But the rest of Class 1-A?

She wasn’t ready.

Not for their bright, well-meaning smiles. Not for the way their eyes flickered with concern even when they tried to act normal. She knew they cared — she appreciated that — but she wasn’t strong enough to be “fine” for all of them. Not yet.

The fourth floor was quiet.

Kaia had taken a break from unpacking, stepping out of her half-finished room and wandering the length of the hallway. Her shoes barely made a sound against the polished floors, her steps slow and aimless, giving herself a chance to breathe.

The east wing stretched out to her right — the guys’ side. She caught sight of the nameplates being prepped on the doors, and a small flicker of relief tugged at her chest when she spotted two familiar names: Bakugo, Katsuki. Kirishima, Eijiro.

Same floor.

That helped more than she expected it to. Knowing they were close. Knowing she wouldn’t be alone, not entirely, even when the hall grew quiet at night.

The west wing felt just as comforting in its own way. Her room, second door on the left. Ashido was right next door, her name already tacked up, bright and bold like her personality. Uraraka was at the end of the hall, her room waiting with its door cracked open, as if ready to welcome her back the moment she worked up the nerve.

Kaia leaned against the window at the end of the corridor, letting the late summer sun spill across her face, warming skin that still felt a little too cold these days.

And then — a shift.

She felt the vibration before she heard the sound. Barely-there footsteps making their way up the staircase, measured and slow, but distinct. Her seismic sense reached for them automatically, the familiar weight of Mr. Aizawa’s stride coming into focus long before his figure appeared at the stairwell.

She wasn’t surprised.

Her dad had called him earlier that week, working out the details, asking if it was alright for her to move in ahead of the others. Aizawa had agreed without hesitation — said she could come as early as she wanted, no questions asked.

When he reached the top of the stairs, his gaze found her immediately. He didn’t say anything at first, just gave her that small, steady nod of acknowledgment. The kind that didn’t demand conversation, only offered quiet understanding.

Kaia nodded back, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly, her throat too tight for words.

Aizawa didn’t linger. Just a silent check-in, a quiet presence to remind her she wasn’t invisible, and then he moved on, leaving her to the soft hush of the fourth floor.

She exhaled slowly, pushing away from the window, and wandered back to her room. The empty space still felt unfamiliar, but the tension in her shoulders eased, even if just a little.

She wasn’t quite home yet.

But she was getting there.

*****

Kaia’s steps were quiet, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket as she made her way back from Midnight’s office. Another counseling session. This one felt different, though — not as heavy, but no less personal. They’d talked about Katsuki, about the way they were helping each other shoulder the weight of everything that had happened. About how neither of them had all the answers, but somehow, just being there was enough.

Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket. She fished it out, the screen lighting up with the time: 2:58 PM.

“Shit.”

Her pace quickened, cutting through the courtyard as the U.A. Heights building came into view. She rounded the last corner, footsteps slowing instinctively the moment her gaze landed on the crowd of uniforms gathered outside the dorms.

Her classmates.

She was the last one to arrive.

Kaia felt the shift immediately — the way conversations lulled and glances flicked toward her. It wasn’t malicious, not really, but the weight of it pressed against her chest all the same. Her feet hesitated for half a second before moving again, steady, measured, even as her pulse picked up speed.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Mr. Aizawa’s voice cut through the air, sharp and direct.

“Alright. Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin.”

No room for questions. No room for awkward stares. His timing — deliberate.

Kaia shot him a quiet, grateful look, catching the barest tilt of his head in return. The same silent understanding he always offered.

She moved toward her spot in the group, shoulders straight, head high, even as her heartbeat rattled against her ribs. Katsuki stood near the back, hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw tight, eyes focused on the ground like he could burn a hole straight through it.

She knew the looks hadn’t been for her alone. He’d endured them earlier — when the class first arrived — standing there and taking it, no sharp words, no explosions, just that stubborn, simmering quiet he’d been wearing more and more lately.

“Curfew is ten o’clock sharp. Quiet hours start at nine. That doesn’t mean you can’t be awake — it means I don’t want to hear you from the other side of the building.”

His gaze drifted across the group, sharp enough to make a few students shift on their feet.

“I’ll be in the staff quarters,” he added, glancing toward the cluster of low buildings nearby, “smack in the middle of the dorms. If there’s a problem — and I mean a real problem — I expect to be notified. Class reps,” he nodded toward Ida and Yaoyorozu, “that falls to you first.”

Ida straightened up, his usual enthusiasm slightly muted by the seriousness of the moment. “Understood, sir!” Yaoyorozu gave a quiet nod beside him.

Aizawa’s expression barely changed, but there was a subtle ease to the way he folded his arms, like some unspoken weight had settled into place.

“Make smart choices. I’ve got enough to deal with already — don’t give me more reasons to lose sleep.”

And just like that, the meeting moved on, simple and blunt, the way he always handled things. Kaia stayed quiet, letting the words settle. The rules were straightforward, but the subtext wasn’t lost on her — the dorms weren’t just about safety. They were about trust. A second chance for all of them to hold their ground after everything that had happened.

She glanced over at Katsuki again, catching the way his hands flexed slightly at his sides. Still standing steady. Still there.

And this time, she let herself feel a little of the same.

Just as the tension started to ease and a few students shifted like they were ready to head inside, Aizawa spoke up again — voice low, but cutting through the air with finality.

“One last thing.”

The class froze, attention snapping back to him.

His expression didn’t soften, not even a little.

“Had the situation been different…” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang there. “If the outcome hadn’t turned out the way it did, I wouldn’t have hesitated to expel every single one of you involved.”

Silence. No one dared to move, the air feeling heavier than it had all day.

“That includes not only those who ran off to save Bakugo and Mikage — but the ones who knew about it, and chose to stand by without stopping them.”

His gaze swept over the class — sharp, unflinching — lingering for a second longer on Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Ida, and Kirishima. No accusation in his tone. Just fact.

“You’re lucky,” he finished, voice quiet but certain. “Don’t make me test that luck again.”

The silence stretched until he gave a short nod, signaling the end of the meeting.

“Go unpack.”

And with that, Aizawa turned, heading off toward the staff building, leaving the weight of his words sitting heavy in the late afternoon air. The second Aizawa’s back disappeared around the corner, the class stood frozen — stuck in that heavy, uncomfortable silence he’d left behind. No one said anything. No one even moved.

That is, until Bakugo let out a sharp, tired sigh.

Without a word, he reached out, grabbed Denki by the collar, and dragged him behind the nearest bush. A soft pop! of a spark followed, and a second later Denki reappeared, swaying on his feet with that all-too-familiar, slack-jawed expression.

“Heheh... I am a potato...” he mumbled, eyes spinning lazily.

That was all it took.

The tension shattered like glass.

First it was Kirishima who cracked, a sharp bark of laughter breaking out of him. Then Ashido practically doubled over. Even Todoroki — usually so composed — let out a soft, almost surprised chuckle under his breath.

Kaia couldn’t help it either — the laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, light and genuine, cutting through the lingering tightness in her chest.

For the first time that day, the air around them didn’t feel so suffocating. Just classmates, standing together, finding a bit of normal in the middle of everything.

*****

Later that evening, the dorms were buzzing with energy as most of the class gathered for their self-declared “King of Rooms” tour — the perfect excuse to nose around and show off, all in good fun. The only ones who sat out were Katsuki, Kaia, and Tsuyu.

Tsuyu, true to her nature, had quietly bowed out, mumbling something about not being too fussed. Katsuki, on the other hand, was left alone without argument — no one was brave enough to drag him into something so social, especially when he usually shut himself away early. Kaia had politely declined too, offering the softest smile and a quiet excuse about feeling tired, which her friends accepted without question.

But what the others didn’t know — as they all herded together on the second floor to start their judging spree — was that Kaia wasn’t in her room.

Dressed in her pajamas, soft socks muffling her steps, she’d quietly slipped down the hall to the east wing, pausing outside Katsuki’s door. No knocking, no fanfare — just a light, practiced tap, one they both knew by now. The door creaked open a moment later, and without a word, he stepped aside to let her in.

No questions. No explanations. Just quiet understanding.

And as the sounds of their classmates’ laughter and teasing echoed faintly through the halls, Kaia curled up beside him on his bed — the soft hum of his room, the steady warmth of his presence, grounding her more than any crowd ever could.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the distant noise of their classmates' laughter drifting from downstairs. Kaia and Katsuki lay side by side on his bed, neither of them feeling the need to speak, content in just being there together, letting the silence settle comfortably around them.

Kaia was the first to break it, her voice soft but steady as she stared up at the ceiling, fingers tracing random patterns on the edge of the blanket. "I’ve been seeing Midnight over the past few weeks," she said, her words not rushed, just part of the flow of thoughts she felt ready to share. "She’s been helping me work through some stuff... I’m feeling better."

Katsuki's eyes flicked toward her, but he didn't say anything right away. He didn’t need to. He could tell. The way her shoulders weren’t as tense anymore, the way her voice carried less of that weight it used to. He simply nodded, his gaze turning toward the ceiling as well.

Kaia shifted a little, drawing her knees up slightly, just enough to get comfortable. “I think… in a few days, I might finally be ready to sit downstairs, mingle a bit." She let out a small, quiet breath, as if admitting it aloud made it feel more real, less like a mountain she had to climb. "Maybe join everyone for a meal, or just... be part of the group. I’m not sure, but... it’s a step.”

Katsuki’s lips twitched upward, just the faintest hint of a smile. He didn’t speak for a moment, choosing instead to simply let the moment stretch. He was proud of her, though he’d never say it directly. He’d never admit it aloud, not in so many words, but Kaia was tough, and she was finding her way back. Slowly, but surely.

“You’ll get there,” he muttered, his voice a little rougher than usual, but there was a softness to it that wasn’t often present when he spoke to anyone else. He turned his head slightly, glancing at her, his hand brushing against hers for just a moment before resting back down.

Kaia smiled faintly, turning her head to look at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but for now, she was content with the quiet reassurance between them. It felt like enough for tonight.

Kaia turned her head slightly, her voice quiet as she asked, “How about you? How have you been doing?”

She expected the usual—his curt “fine” and maybe a shrug. That was how it usually went. But tonight, she didn’t get the usual reply.

Katsuki shifted slightly on the bed, not in a hurry to answer, his fingers tapping lightly against the sheets. There was a slight hesitation before he spoke, something rare for him. “I... I don’t know, honestly,” he started, his voice lower than usual, less guarded. “After everything that happened… I’ve been trying to keep it together, but it’s harder than I thought. The quiet—it's been messing with my head more than I thought it would.”

Kaia blinked, a little surprised by his openness. Katsuki was never one to show vulnerability, especially not like this. She stayed quiet, giving him the space to continue, her heart thumping slightly in her chest as she processed his words.

“I keep thinking about the stuff I couldn't control,” he continued, his voice quiet, like he was saying things he hadn’t even realized he needed to say. “About you. About the stuff I could’ve done differently, and it just… keeps eating at me. But I don’t know what to do with that... so I just keep pushing it down. I’m not used to feeling like this.”

Kaia’s breath caught for a moment. She didn’t say anything, just letting his words hang in the air, feeling the weight of them. Katsuki wasn’t one to open up, but here he was, sharing something that felt personal, raw.

She shifted slightly, turning more toward him. "Katsuki," she whispered, her voice gentle but full of understanding. "It’s okay not to be okay. You don’t always have to push everything down. You can let it out."

He didn’t respond immediately, just stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, his jaw clenched. But for the first time, Kaia didn’t feel the need to press him for more. She understood. She just stayed there, next to him, offering the quiet kind of support that he needed, without expecting anything more.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Katsuki let out a breath, as if releasing a little of the tension he’d been carrying. “Maybe… maybe I will,” he muttered. "Eventually."

Kaia stood up slowly, stretching her arms above her head as the last of the noise from the hallway started to die down. The laughter and chatter of their classmates had faded, leaving behind the calm of the night. She could feel the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders, her mind quieting after the conversation with Katsuki.

"Well, I should head back to my room," she said softly, her voice light as she turned to face him.

Katsuki was already getting up behind her, moving toward the door to lock it before she left. She watched him for a moment, her gaze softening as she took in the way his shoulders had relaxed after their talk, even if only a little.

As she reached for the doorknob, something unspoken passed between them, something that had been lingering in the air since they had first spoken so openly. Without thinking too much about it, she turned back toward him.

Her fingers brushed her lips for a second before she stepped closer, leaning up just enough to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was a soft, quiet gesture, but one that spoke more than words could. She wasn’t trying to fix anything—just offering a small comfort, a reminder that they were in this together, no matter how heavy things felt.

Katsuki froze for a split second, his usual reaction of annoyance or confusion not showing up. He just blinked at her, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks as he watched her pull away.

“Goodnight, Kats,” she whispered with a soft smile.

He just stared at her for a moment, a mix of emotions flickering across his face before he gave a small nod, his voice rough but sincere. “Night, Kaia.”

And with that, she stepped out into the hallway, her heart a little lighter than it had been when she entered his room, and the quiet of the night a little more peaceful.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, his hand still on the door, frozen in place as Kaia's footsteps faded down the hall. The soft press of her lips on his cheek lingered longer than he expected. For a few seconds, he stood in the silence, unsure if he was even breathing properly.

His hand slowly dropped from the door handle, and he took a few steps back, his usual storm of emotions swirling in his chest. His mind raced, as it always did when it came to her—how she made him feel so many things he didn’t know how to handle.

He briefly closed his eyes, a small exhale escaping him, and shook his head, trying to shake off the confusion. "Tch, what the hell..." he muttered under his breath.

But despite the way he often tried to bury it, that warmth from her kiss was still there, settling somewhere deep in his chest. It wasn't like the usual rush of adrenaline or the blast of anger he was used to; no, this was different. It left him feeling almost—calm, like something he didn’t want to push away.

He turned and looked over at his bed, his muscles still tense from their conversation, but his thoughts still lingering on Kaia.

With a frustrated sigh, he walked over to his desk and grabbed a towel, running it through his hair as he tried to focus on something else. But in the back of his mind, there was the image of her smile, her soft voice telling him that she'd be alright, that she'd join everyone soon.

He gritted his teeth. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, but the words were empty, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

After a long pause, he dropped the towel onto the desk, pushed off from the chair, and made his way to the window. He stood there, staring out at the night, not bothering to close the blinds.

Kaia had kissed his cheek. And somehow, it had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. His eyes narrowed slightly as the quiet weight of everything pressed in on him again. But this time, the tension in his chest felt a little different. A little more bearable.

"Just don't be stupid, Katsuki..." he mumbled to himself as he stared into the darkness, unsure of what it all meant, but for now, that would have to be enough.

Eventually, he locked his door and slid under the covers, though sleep didn’t come easy. His mind wandered between thoughts of Kaia, her gentle smile, and the feeling that, just maybe, things could be okay.

*****

Kaia sat on the edge of her bed, her face still burning from the boldness of what she’d done — kissing Katsuki’s cheek like that. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, equal parts nerves and something softer, warmer. She let out a breath, too flustered to sit still, and crossed her room to crack open the window, hoping the night air would cool her off.

The breeze drifted in, carrying the quiet hum of voices from below.

Curious, Kaia leaned slightly against the windowsill, eyes scanning the courtyard. Down on the steps she spotted a small group gathered under the soft glow of the dorm lights — Ida, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Izuku stood in a loose circle. Uraraka sat on the steps, one arm wrapped around Asui, who had her head lowered, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Kaia stayed still, feeling the low vibrations of their voices. She tuned in — not eavesdropping out of malice, but... it was hard to ignore. Their emotions were so heavy, it practically clung to the air.

"...I didn’t know what to say to any of you back then," Tsuyu's voice floated up, soft but clear through the quiet night. "I didn’t want any of you to get hurt, but I couldn’t stop you either. I was scared... I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before."

A beat passed before Uraraka’s voice gently cut through, firm but kind. "We all wanted that. We still do. That’s why we did the King of Rooms thing... we wanted to laugh again. To feel like a class again. None of us blamed you for saying what you did."

Ida’s voice joined next, steady and sincere, "It’s only natural that you were honest. You were brave to speak up, even when it wasn’t what we wanted to hear."

Kaia could feel the tension easing from Asui, her head lifting slightly as her friends circled closer, offering their presence like a shield. Uraraka gave her another squeeze, smiling through what sounded like the faintest sniffle.

"You're our friend, Tsu," Kirishima added, voice soft but certain. "Nothing’s gonna change that."

Kaia's chest tightened at the exchange — a bittersweet ache, knowing they were all struggling in their own way, trying to piece themselves back together. She pulled back from the window, letting the curtain fall slightly, giving them their space.

But she stayed there for another minute, hand resting on the windowsill, the night air brushing against her face.

They were all hurting. They were all trying.
And slowly, it felt like... maybe they were all starting to heal too.

Izuku lingered for just a moment at the bottom of the steps as the group began to make their way back inside, catching movement from the corner of his eye.

When he glanced up, his gaze met Kaia’s through her open window — soft, tired eyes peeking past the curtain. She gave a small, almost hesitant tilt of her head toward the dorm building, the unspoken invitation clear: come up, please.

Izuku blinked, surprised but understanding immediately. He gave her a small, barely-there nod before jogging to catch up with the others.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” he called, voice light but laced with something quieter, more knowing.

The group barely questioned it, too emotionally spent from the night, and Izuku peeled off toward the stairs, making his way up to the fourth floor.

When he reached Kaia’s door, he didn’t even need to knock — she was already there, quietly opening it for him.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Izuku offered her a small, gentle smile, the kind that said I’m here if you need me, and Kaia stepped aside to let him in, the silence between them comfortable and easy.

Some things didn’t need words.

The room was quiet, the soft buzz of the dorm’s hallway lights barely audible through the crack beneath the door. Kaia sat on the edge of her bed, hands fidgeting with the hem of her pajama sleeves, her heart knotted so tightly in her chest it almost hurt to breathe.

Izuku stood there, unsure if he should sit or give her space — until Kaia’s voice, small and uneven, cut through the silence.

“…Thank you, Izuku.”

He blinked, looking over at her as she kept her gaze locked on the floor, voice fragile but steadying with every word.

“Thank you for being there. Through all of it. I never really got to say it… not the way I wanted to.”

Her throat bobbed with the effort of holding it together, but the dam was cracking. She lifted her hand, pressing it over her heart as if the words physically weighed her down.

“I know you aren’t the type to sit still. Even after you were hurt… you still came. You fought like hell at the training camp — you could’ve stayed safe, you should’ve — but you didn’t. You came after us. Me and Katsuki.”

Her voice wavered, the tears starting to slip free, hot against her cheeks.

“You didn’t give up on me.”

Izuku’s hands curled at his sides, his own heart swelling with guilt and pride all at once. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Kaia’s voice broke again, softer this time.

“The way you tried… the way you fought… that’s always going to stay with me, Izuku. No matter what.”

That was it — the moment his chest ached and his throat tightened so much the words wouldn’t come. His eyes blurred, tears welling until they slipped freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t hold them back even if he wanted to.

Without thinking, he crossed the room in two quick steps and pulled her into a hug, tight and unshaking. Kaia didn’t resist. The moment his arms wrapped around her, her hands clung to the front of his hoodie, burying her face against his shoulder as the last of her walls crumbled.

Izuku rested his chin on top of her head, his voice thick and trembling.

“I’m just glad you’re here, Kaia,” he whispered. “That you came back.”

Neither of them moved for a while. The room held the weight of everything they’d both gone through — all the fear, the helplessness, the exhaustion. But in that hug, none of it felt so suffocating. For the first time in weeks, Kaia let herself cry without holding back. And Izuku, true to who he was, didn’t try to make her stop.

Kaia took a deep breath and spoke. She told Izuku everything that happened when they were gone – everything. He held her close as she poured out everything, the two continuing to let out tears. Izuku doing his best to support the very girl who supported him over the years when he needed it most.

They just sat there, side by side, childhood friends — two kids caught in the middle of a world too big for them, reminding each other that they weren’t alone. Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Text

Class 1A settled into their seats, the usual chatter and shuffle of notebooks filling the air as Mr. Aizawa stood at the front of the room, his sleeping bag tossed lazily off to the side. His expression, as always, was unreadable, but the second the room quieted, his voice cut through the air, calm but clear.

“You’ve all got two weeks.”

The class blinked, heads turning toward him with curious and confused looks.

“Two weeks until your Provisional Hero License Exam,” he clarified, hands tucked into his pockets. “Starting today, your lessons will shift. We’ll be focusing on sharpening your rescue, combat, and teamwork skills. You’re expected to take this seriously — the license is the first step to acting like real heroes.”

A ripple of excitement and nerves spread across the room. Some students sat up straighter, others exchanged wide-eyed glances. Kaia, sitting toward the back, felt her heart skip a beat — not out of fear, but from the steady surge of determination she hadn’t felt in a while.

“It’s not enough to just train like you have been. The Provisional License Exam isn’t designed to go easy on you.”

The room grew noticeably more tense, students sitting up straighter, the weight of his words sinking in.

“The passing rate? Fifty percent,” Aizawa added, his eyes sweeping the room, pausing on a few faces that had been through more than their fair share already. “Half of you might not make the cut if you stay as you are.”

The reminder hit harder than some of them expected.

“During hero training, we’ll focus on developing something essential — your ultimate moves. You’ll need at least two. One for offense, one for defense — though more is better.”

A few students exchanged nervous glances. Others, like Bakugo, leaned back in their chairs, arms folded, already calculating their next step. Kaia, who sat near the window, drummed her fingers lightly on her desk, thoughtful but calm. She knew the stakes. She’d felt them the night of the raid, when quirks alone weren’t enough to change the outcome.

Aizawa gave a final nod before adding, “The world doesn’t hand out licenses just for trying hard. You need to prove you have what it takes — and these ultimate moves will be the first step in that.”

With that, the bell rang, releasing them to their next class, but the tension stayed. For the first time in a while, the classroom didn’t empty with the usual laughter and noise — only the sound of determined footsteps heading to the training grounds.

*****

Inside Gym Gamma the air was thick with effort. The walls echoed with the sounds of quirks being pushed to their limits — blasts, shocks, and sharp commands bounced between the metal beams. Cementoss, Midnight, and Ectoplasm moved from student to student, offering guIdance, adjusting stances, reminding them that raw strength wouldn’t cut it this time.

Kaia stood at one corner of the gym, crouched low as small tremors rippled beneath her feet. She was fine-tuning her seismic control, trying to sharpen the speed and precision of her quirk — the kind of control that could turn the tide in a real battle. A soft exhale left her lips, the earth shifting like a heartbeat under her command.

On the far side, Bakugo’s explosions cracked through the air, each blast more refined than the last as he experimented with propulsion angles. Kirishima practiced holding his hardened form longer, his jaw tight with determination. Uraraka tested new ways to reduce the recoil of her quirk-enhanced throws, working alongside Ida, whose engines roared on and off like an engine being tuned.

Then, without fanfare, the gym’s heavy side doors creaked open.

All Might — thinner now, with his usual looming frame missing but his presence just as steady — stepped inside, hands resting on his hips as he surveyed the room. Even without shouting, the shift in the atmosphere was immediate. One by one, the students paused, looking toward him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” All Might said with that signature smile, soft but still holding that spark. “I’m just here to offer a few words.”

As the students returned to their training, All Might moved quietly from one group to another, his voice low but earnest. For Kaminari, he gave advice on balance and timing, not just power. For Uraraka, he spoke about strategy — how even small quirks, used right, could shift the battle in big ways.

When he reached Bakugo, there was a brief pause. Their conversation was short — a quiet exchange, more meaningful in the silence between words than anything said aloud. Kaia glanced over, catching the flicker of emotion across Katsuki’s face before he masked it again.

Finally, All Might made his way to her.

“Kaia,” he greeted, his voice gentler, carrying the weight of someone who had seen the cost of battle too well. “You’ve always been strong. But strength isn’t just power. Learn when to hold back, and when to push forward — that’s the difference between surviving and saving someone.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and replied softly, “I’m working on it.”

All Might offered her a light pat on the shoulder, then stepped back to let her return to her training. As he made his rounds, the students pushed harder, sharper, with each word of advice lingering behind like a quiet challenge.

This wasn’t about passing anymore — it was about becoming the hero each of them needed to be.

the teachers slowly drifted toward the large metal doors near the entrance — their watchful eyes still flicking back toward their students, but the conversation between them shifting.

Cementoss leaned back slightly, arms crossed, watching Midoriya tinker with his shoot style footwork while Ectoplasm’s clones weaved between students, providing direct feedback. Midnight stood casually with one hand on her hip, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she watched the class struggle and grow in real-time.

“They’ve got a long way to go,” Cementoss mused, voice low but thoughtful. “But some of them are starting to sharpen their instincts.”

“They’ll have to,” Midnight replied, her tone lighter but edged with truth. “The provisional exam isn’t just about skill. Half of it’s pressure, the other half is judgment. And not every student here is used to thinking like a hero when the clock’s against them.”

Ectoplasm, always measured, added, “Given the state of things, the sooner they understand how real the stakes are, the better. Provisional licenses aren’t handed out because you’ve trained — they’re earned in the moment, under fire.”

Aizawa stood nearby, silent until now, his usual tired gaze fixed on his students. He let out a quiet breath before speaking, his words plain but heavy with intent.

“They’ve been through more than most first-years should. But that doesn’t guarantee results. If they can’t learn to adapt, improvise, and trust each other by the time the exam rolls around, they’ll fail.”

There was a quiet beat between them as they all watched the next generation of heroes in motion, pushing their quirks and bodies to their limits. Some more focused, some frustrated, and some — like Mikage, Todoroki, Bakugo, and Midoriya — wearing the weight of their recent battles like invisible armor.

“They’ll get there,” Midnight said softly, glancing at Aizawa. “They have to.”

Aizawa gave the slightest nod, eyes tracking Kaia as she sent another ripple of controlled seismic force across the gym floor — her concentration sharper than it had been in weeks.

“They don’t have another choice,” he muttered. “It’s only going to get harder from here.”

As the conversation tapered off, the teachers began to drift back toward the scattered clusters of students. Cementoss returned to the far wall, watching over Todoroki as he practiced fine-tuning his fire control. Ectoplasm split into two clones, moving to correct Kaminari’s scattershot aim.

But Aizawa didn’t move just yet. His gaze flicked sideways to Midnight, catching her just as she turned to follow the others.

“Nemuri,” he called quietly, his voice low and even.

She paused, heels clicking softly against the polished gym floor as she turned back to face him, the playful glint in her eyes dimming — she could tell by his tone this wasn’t casual.

Aizawa crossed his arms, eyes flicking briefly toward Kaia across the gym. She was deep in concentration, hands pressed to the ground as her seismic control rippled outward in sharp, precise waves, her expression unreadable but tight.

“You’ve been handling her counseling,” he said, voice gruff but laced with quiet concern. “How is she really?”

Midnight glanced across the gym too, watching Kaia for a long, thoughtful moment before answering.

“She’s getting better,” she replied softly, her voice losing its usual sultry edge. “It’s slow — but the walls are starting to crack. I can tell she’s working through it.”

Aizawa’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

Midnight continued, folding her arms. “There’s something still weighing her down, though. I don’t know what it is — not yet — but I can feel it. When she’s ready, I’ll guide her through it. She’s just not ready to say it out loud.”

Aizawa nodded once, the barest hint of relief flickering through his tired features. He trusted Midnight’s judgment. If Kaia wasn’t ready to speak, there was no use in forcing it — not yet. But knowing someone was watching over her helped ease the tension just slightly.

“Keep me updated,” he muttered, before turning back toward the students.

Midnight gave a light nod, watching as he walked off, his capture scarf dragging slightly against the gym floor. She let out a small sigh, then finally headed back to join the others.

Kaia hadn’t looked over once, fully lost in her training — but the quiet care around her was there all the same.

*****

After a long afternoon of relentless training, the sun was beginning to dip low, washing U.A. in the soft orange light of early evening. Sweat-soaked and tired, Kaia stretched her arms overhead as she, Izuku, Ida, and Uraraka made their way across campus toward the support department.

Despite the day’s exhaustion, there was an excited undercurrent between them — Aizawa’s talk about ultimate moves had lit a fire under everyone, and their hero costumes were about to get some much-needed upgrades.

The moment they stepped inside the chaotic workshop space, they were greeted by the familiar sound of metal clanging, tools whirring, and the wild, unfiltered enthusiasm of one Mei Hatsume.

“Hey!” Hatsume called out, her goggles pushed onto her forehead, grease smudged across her cheek. “Perfect timing — I’ve been dying for some test subjects!”

Before any of them could reply, Hatsume zipped across the room on one of her strange hoverboots, stopping inches from Kaia with that signature wide grin.

“I’ve been brainstorming new support items — not just for you, Kaia, but all of you!” she said, already reaching for a prototype gauntlet from her cluttered workbench. “You’re gonna love this. Here, try this on!”

Kaia exchanged a slightly wary glance with Izuku, but held out her arm anyway. Hatsume strapped the gauntlet onto her forearm, the metal surprisingly lightweight.

“This model can stabilize seismic output for more precise ground control,” Hatsume explained, practically bouncing on her heels. “It should help you during long-range shockwave attacks without the recoil stressing your joints.”

Before Kaia could even ask how it worked, Hatsume pressed a button on the side — and the gauntlet immediately sent out a soft pulse through the floor, causing a few scattered screws on the ground to vibrate in place. Kaia blinked, genuinely impressed.

“...That’s actually useful,” she admitted, flexing her hand.

“Right?! I call it Baby Prototype No. 51,” Hatsume beamed, clearly proud of herself. “Still needs some tweaks, but you’ll get the full version before the exam!”

She turned next to Izuku, strapping what looked like a new support brace onto his arm — while Idaand Uraraka tried to politely fend off her next batch of inventions, both aware that once Hatsume started, there was no stopping her.

The four of them spent nearly an hour there, listening to Hatsume’s rapid-fire explanations, dodging the occasional test malfunction, and slowly feeling the fatigue of the day settle into their bones.

As they finally made their way back toward Heights Alliance under the soft glow of the campus lamps, Kaia flexed her arm, still feeling the light vibration of Hatsume’s gauntlet lingering in her muscle memory. For the first time in weeks, the tension in her chest felt a little lighter — the future didn’t seem so daunting when there were people constantly building it alongside her.

*****

The warmth from the shower still clung to Kaia’s skin as she sat cross-legged on her bed, towel draped around her shoulders, scrolling lazily through her phone. The group chat for the 1-A girls had lit up — message after message about smores, the fire pit, and the cool night air on the roof.

"We saved you a seat, Kaia!!"
"Ashido brought a whole bag of marshmallows, don’t let her eat them all!"
"Come up if you feel like it, it’s peaceful tonight."

She stared at the last message from Uraraka, her thumb hovering over the reply box. For a moment, her chest tightened — that familiar voice in the back of her mind whispering to stay in the comfort of her room, to avoid the risk of awkwardness or prying questions. But this time, she took a deep breath and shook the thought away.

It was time. Small steps, like Midnight had said.

Kaia pulled on a cozy hoodie, slipping on her house slippers and grabbing a blanket from the end of her bed. The soft hum of the dorm building felt less lonely tonight as she padded quietly up the staircase, following the faint sounds of laughter and crackling fire.

When she opened the door to the rooftop, a soft breeze brushed past her face, carrying the sweet scent of toasted marshmallows and chocolate. The fire pit glowed warmly, lighting up the circle of familiar faces — Ashido was animatedly trying to balance a double-decker smore, Jirou had her earbuds slung around her neck, Momo and Tsuyu sat side by side, and Uraraka’s head lifted the moment she saw Kaia step out.

“There you are!” Uraraka grinned, waving her over without a hint of hesitation or expectation. “We saved you a spot.”

The circle shifted slightly, everyone making room for her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kaia tucked her blanket around her legs, letting herself settle into the warmth of the fire, the chatter washing over her. No pressure, no questions — just quiet laughter, the snap of chocolate bars, and the soft glow of the night sky.

Ashido passed her a perfectly golden marshmallow without a word, nudging her shoulder lightly as if to say welcome back.

Kaia smiled to herself, her heart a little lighter.

The fire popped softly, embers flickering into the night air as Kaia leaned back against her folded blanket, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing for the first time in weeks. The sound of the girls’ laughter was easy, real — no masks, no forced smiles, just warmth.

“Okay, okay,” Hagakure’s voice chimed in — her floating marshmallow on a stick the only real hint of her presence. “I’ve got one!”

The group quieted, all eyes turning toward the floating treat as she began her story, her invisible hands waving around with extra enthusiasm.

“So, back in middle school, I totally forgot I was still invisible after PE, right? I walked right into the boys' locker room like it was nothing!”

Ashido nearly snorted out her drink, and Uraraka covered her mouth in shock. Kaia let out a quiet laugh, already picturing the poor boys’ panic.

“They were all screaming, like ‘THE GYM IS HAUNTED!’ and one kid actually threw a shoe at me — I still had the bruise!”

Jirou shook her head with an amused smile. “Classic Hagakure,” she muttered.

“Best part?” Hagakure added, stretching the pause for dramatic effect. “I didn’t even realize it until the teacher dragged me out. I was so used to not being seen, I didn’t think twice.”

The whole group burst into laughter — even Tsuyu let out a soft chuckle, her usual quiet demeanor lightening for the moment. Kaia’s chest ached from the laughter, the kind that came from deep inside — the kind she hadn’t felt in too long.

Momo, ever the responsible one, wiped her eyes and smiled warmly. “You really do collect the most bizarre stories, Hagakure.”

Hagakure giggled, her invisible shoulders clearly shrugging. “Hey, life’s funnier when people can’t see you coming!”

The group continued to laugh, and Kaia found herself glancing up at the stars, feeling the night air wrap around her like an old friend. For once, the ache that usually lingered in her chest had quieted.

She wasn’t fixed. She wasn’t fully healed. But sitting there with her friends, a belly full of sugar and laughter, she finally believed — she would be okay.

*****

As Kaia, Ochaco, and Mina stepped off the staircase onto their floor, the soft hum of laughter still lingered between them from the rooftop. The night air clung to Kaia’s skin, cool but refreshing after finally spending time with the other girls.

They reached the hallway split, the familiar path leading to the girls’ wing stretching off to the right. Uraraka and Ashido automatically veered in that direction, still chatting about Hagakure’s invisible disaster — but Kaia slowed, her steps drifting left instead.

She didn’t say anything. The move felt natural. Quiet.

As she approached the end of the boys’ hallway, she raised her hand to knock on Katsuki’s door — only for it to swing open before her knuckles could land.

“Ah —!”

She blinked in surprise, and there stood Kirishima, hoodie half-zipped, a protein bar halfway unwrapped in his hand.

“Oh, hey, Kaia!” he greeted, flashing his usual bright, easy grin, oblivious to the fact that her heart had done a weird little skip. “Was just about to crash. Bakugo’s in there.” He nodded back toward the room with a knowing tilt of his head, not prying, just casually observant like always.

Kaia gave him a soft smile, brushing her knuckles against her palm as if to shake off the surprise. “Thanks, Kiri. Night.”

“Night!” he replied, stepping around her and heading off down the hall, still munching on his snack.

Kaia lingered for a second, staring at the open door before stepping inside — a familiar scent of burnt caramel and clean linen wrapping around her as the door clicked shut behind her.

Katsuki glanced up from where he sat at his desk, earbuds half-dangling, his expression flickering into something unreadable but softer the moment he saw her.

“Took you long enough. Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low, unbothered.

Kaia shook her head as she closed the door behind her. “Not yet.”

Without needing to be told, he pushed his chair back, and Kaia crossed the room, settling down on the edge of his bed. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, comfortable in the kind of silence that only came from knowing someone deeply.

After a while, he finally mumbled, “Didn’t think you’d go up on the roof.”

Kaia glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I needed to.” She looked down at her hands. “Felt... good.”

Katsuki huffed — not unkindly — and with a small shake of his head, he added, “About damn time.”

The corners of her mouth lifted a little more, and the quiet stretched between them again, easy and warm like the late-night air still clinging to her hoodie. She wasn’t in a rush to leave, and he didn’t seem like he wanted her to, either.

The longer Kaia sat there on the edge of his bed, the easier it felt to breathe — the weight that usually sat on her chest loosening little by little with each minute that passed. Katsuki stayed leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other, watching her in that quiet, unbothered way of his.

Their conversation drifted casually, starting with the smores on the roof — Kaia recounting Hagakure’s ridiculous story from middle school.

“She completely forgot she was invisible and waltzed right in!” Kaia said, her voice light with laughter. “Some of the boys the boys thought the school was haunted.”

Katsuki snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “That sounds about right for those extras,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to his words — just amusement.

The conversation meandered from there — random things. The support department’s new gadget mishaps. The old man Aizawa’s latest threat of ‘expulsion’ if anyone so much as broke curfew again. The strange way Kirishima had managed to burn rice even in a rice cooker.

Kaia let out a few soft chuckles here and there, the kind that carried no tension, only ease. Katsuki, sharp-eyed as ever, caught the small differences in her tonight. Less guarded. Less heavy.

And every now and then when she laughed, he couldn’t help but flash one of those subtle, teasing smirks — the kind that always pulled at his lips when he was about to say something cocky but decided not to.

There was something in the air, sitting between them, lingering ever since that night she kissed his cheek. A shift neither of them had talked about, but both of them felt. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly. If anything, it was grounding — steady and calm like a flame that didn’t flicker under pressure.

Eventually, Kaia stretched her legs out, leaning back on her palms, glancing over at him beneath the soft glow of his desk lamp.

“Y’know,” she started, voice quieter now, “it’s kinda nice... this.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, head tilting slightly. “What is?”

“Being here. Not talking about heavy stuff. Just…” She let the words drift off, gesturing lazily between them. “This.”

He looked at her for a long second, something unspoken passing between them. Then he gave a small grunt — the closest thing she’d get to an ‘I agree’ — before pushing off from the desk and ruffling her damp hair as he walked past toward his window to crack it open.

“Tch. Don’t get too used to it,” he muttered under his breath, but the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

Kaia smiled softly to herself, tucking her legs up under her, and for the first time in a long while, her chest didn’t ache.

It was the start of something — whatever it was, she didn’t mind waiting for it to unfold.

*****

Kaia shifted quietly, sitting up on the edge of the bed as her bare feet touched the cool floor. Her phone's faint glow read 7:00 AM sharp. She blinked, still a little groggy, the memory of last night foggy but warm — the quiet conversation, the laughter that stretched into the late hours, the easy silence that followed until sleep pulled her under.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep here.

As she stood to gather her things, the bed rustled behind her. Katsuki stirred, one arm flexing over his face as he let out a rough, barely-awake exhale. His voice, still heavy with sleep, rumbled into the quiet room.

"...You leavin' already?"

Kaia glanced over her shoulder, offering a small smile. "Yeah... I’ve got a session with Midnight before class."

His arm dropped back onto the bed, crimson eyes half-open, squinting at her in the faint morning light. His expression wasn’t sharp like it usually was — more soft, barely awake, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at her, taking in the sight of her standing there in her pajamas, hair slightly tousled, like she belonged there.

"Didn’t even notice you knocked out," he mumbled, voice low and scratchy.

Kaia grabbed her phone and hoodie from his desk chair, slipping them into her arms. "I didn’t mean to... but it was nice." She paused at the door, her fingers hovering over the handle before glancing back at him. "I’ll see you in class, okay?"

Katsuki let out a noncommittal grunt, but his gaze lingered on her until the door softly clicked shut behind her.

And for a moment after she was gone, he lay there staring at the ceiling, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

*****

The crisp morning air was a welcome change from the heavy stillness of her thoughts. Kaia adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, biting into her simple sandwich as she walked at a steady pace toward the faculty wing. The sky still wore that soft early glow, the sun barely climbing over the rooftops of U.A., casting long shadows across the path.

As she passed the common room, the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Sato stepped out, stretching his arms wide and giving her a polite, cheerful nod. His apron was already tied around his waist, clearly on his way to get started on breakfast for the class, as he usually did when he woke up early.

“Morning, Mikage,” he said kindly, his voice light but warm.

She swallowed her bite, offering a soft smile back. "Morning, Sato."

With her sandwich half-finished, she stepped out onto the main walkway, the gentle breeze lifting the ends of her hair as she headed toward Midnight’s office. The campus grounds were quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that only happened before the school day truly started. Her feet moved at an unhurried pace, and for once, there wasn’t the usual tightness in her chest.

When Kaia reached Midnight’s office, she knocked softly out of habit before stepping inside. The familiar scent of the room — a mix of soft perfume and the faint trace of old leather books — greeted her as Midnight looked up from the papers she’d been sorting.

The pro hero’s expression immediately softened, a welcoming smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Morning, Kaia. Right on time, as always.”

Kaia settled into the chair across from her, the stiffness that usually clung to her shoulders noticeably absent. For once, it wasn’t a struggle to make eye contact or start the conversation.

“Morning,” Kaia replied, her voice quiet but steadier than it had been in weeks. After a moment, she added, “I hung out with the girls last night. Up on the roof, around the fire pit.”

Midnight’s brow arched slightly in pleasant surprise. “Oh? That sounds like progress.”

Kaia gave a small nod, her hands folding in her lap as she leaned back in her chair. “It was nice... actually. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m glad I went. Hakagure told this dumb, funny story about the time snuck into the boys locker room in middle school. I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

Midnight leaned back slightly in her chair, resting her hands over her knee, her expression soft but attentive. “It’s good that you’re letting yourself enjoy those moments, Kaia. That’s what they’re there for — you’re not meant to carry all of this on your own, even if you try.”

Kaia smiled faintly, brushing a hand through her curls, still a little damp from her morning shower. “I know. I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed it — just... being part of the group again. Everyone was just being themselves, no one dancing around me like I’d break apart.” She paused, glancing toward the window. “I needed that.”

Midnight nodded, her gaze following Kaia’s for a brief second before returning to her. “And Katsuki?” she asked, her tone light, not prying — just guiding.

A soft flush crept into Kaia’s cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “We’ve been talking more, too. It’s different now. I guess I’ve started to let him in... even just sitting there with him feels like enough, sometimes.” She let out a small laugh. “I never thought someone like him would be the quiet type, but he is — when it’s just us.”

Midnight’s smile deepened, her voice warm but knowing. “People show sides of themselves to the ones they trust. It sounds like you’re both figuring that out, piece by piece.”

Kaia nodded, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sleeve. “Yeah. He’s... rough around the edges, but he’s steady. And I guess I’ve needed steady lately.”

The room settled into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft ticking of Midnight’s clock. After a moment, Midnight straightened, her voice gentle but certain. “I’m proud of you, Kaia. You’ve been fighting a hard battle most people don’t see. But this — the way you’re letting yourself live again, even in the small ways — that’s real strength.”

Kaia blinked back the slight sting of emotion behind her eyes, offering a small but genuine smile. “Thanks... that means a lot.”

Midnight reached for her clipboard but didn’t glance down at it yet. “You’ll get there, one step at a time. You’ve already started. That’s the hardest part.”

Kaia nodded, feeling the weight in her chest ease a little more. The conversation drifted into a few lighter topics — upcoming training, her thoughts about the provisional license test, and what kind of hero she wanted to become. And for the first time in a while, Kaia felt like she could imagine the answer.

The sharp ring of the warning bell echoed through the hallway, snapping Kaia out of her conversation with Midnight. Her eyes widened slightly as she glanced at the clock — 8:55.

“Crap,” she muttered under her breath, quickly standing from her chair.

Midnight gave her a knowing smile, waving her off. “Go on, you don’t want Aizawa giving you that dead-eyed stare all day. And Kaia? I’m glad you came by.”

Kaia returned the smile, grabbing her bag. “Me too. I’ll see you later, Midnight!”

She hurried through the halls, weaving around a few lingering students and making it to the classroom door just as Mr. Aizawa stepped up to the front of the room, pushing the door open with his usual sluggish posture, capture weapon wrapped loosely around his shoulders.

The class barely had time to settle when Kaia slipped in, a little breathless, easing into her seat.

Aizawa’s eyes lazily flicked her way, his dry voice cutting through the room.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Mikage. Tell Midnight not to hold you up too long next time.”

A soft ripple of chuckles moved through the room, and Kaia, still catching her breath, managed a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, sir.”

Aizawa didn’t dwell on it, moving right into the morning announcements, but Kaia could feel a few glances from her classmates — not judgmental, just curious. As the announcements continued, she sank into her seat, her heart still steadying from the jog, but there was a lightness in her chest that hadn’t been there in a long while.

It was a small, ordinary morning moment — but it felt good. Normal. And Kaia was finally starting to welcome it.

*****

Just like that two weeks had flown by - as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, the room was alive with the sound of chairs scraping back and classmates chatting about strategies and last-minute training plans for the provisional license exam tomorrow. Everyone was gathering their things, ready to head for the locker rooms and change for one final practical drill.

Kaia stood from her desk, slinging her bag over her shoulder when the familiar buzz of her phone caught her attention. She glanced down at the screen — her chest tightened slightly.

Dad.

Her fingers hovered for only a second before she quickly swiped to answer, stepping aside as her classmates shuffled past her out the door. She pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end before his voice came through — deep, calm, but marked with something softer than usual. “Hey, Kaia.”

Her grip on the strap of her bag eased, her voice lowering instinctively. “Hey, Dad.”

The classroom was mostly empty now, only a few lingering voices in the hall, and Kaia sat back down at her desk, her heart tugging at the sound of him. He didn’t call often — not because he didn’t care, but because both of their lives were always moving, always busy.

“I know the big day’s tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “Just wanted to check in. You ready?”

Kaia let out a small breath through her nose, the corners of her lips twitching into a quiet smile. “Yeah. I think I am.”

There was another pause — but a good one. One that felt like home, like a silent understanding.

“I’m proud of you, y’know,” he finally said, voice steady but warm. “No matter how it goes tomorrow. You’ve already come further than I ever imagined.”

Kaia bit her lip to steady the sting behind her eyes, nodding even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

“Just do your best. That’s all I’ve ever asked.”

She heard him exhale, and it almost sounded like he was holding back from saying more. Before she could ask, he added softly: “And... I’ll be waiting to hear how it goes.”

Her chest felt lighter, and with one last glance around the empty classroom, Kaia smiled fully now. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Just as Kaia was about to say her final “bye,” her father’s voice gently cut back in, stopping her thumb mid-hover over the end call button.

"One more thing, sweetheart."

His tone had shifted slightly — still calm, but edged with that steady seriousness that only ever came when it involved hero work. Kaia’s stomach tensed, the familiar mix of understanding and quiet worry surfacing.

"Later this afternoon I’ll be heading out on a mission," he told her. "It’s the culmination of that drug supply case I told you about — the one we’ve been following for a few months. Looks like we’re finally closing in on the source."

Kaia sat back down at her desk, listening closely. He rarely mentioned work unless it was something important.

"I’ll be off the radar for a bit until everything’s wrapped up. We’re teaming up with Fat Gum’s agency on this one — it could get messy, but I’ll be fine."

That last part was for her, and she knew it. She could practically hear the smile in his voice, the silent reassurance tucked into the way he said it.

"Once you're done with school today, give your mom a call, alright?" he added. "She’d like to hear from you."

Kaia nodded, even though the lump in her throat was starting to form. “Okay. I will.”

There was a small pause, one of those wordless moments only a father and daughter could share — both of them holding on to it for just a heartbeat longer.

"I’m proud of you, Kaia."

“Be safe, Dad,” she whispered.

"Always."

And with that, the call ended. Kaia sat for a second, staring down at the black screen of her phone, the quiet lingering around her. She pressed the phone against her chest for a moment, then let out a breath, squared her shoulders, and stood up.

As Kaia slipped her phone into her pocket and stepped out of the classroom, she immediately spotted Katsuki leaning casually against the hallway wall, arms crossed, his usual sharp expression softened just a little — almost like he’d been waiting, but didn’t want to make it obvious.

The moment her eyes met his, he pushed off the wall with a small grunt, hands stuffing into his pockets.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, glancing her way, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

Kaia offered him a small smile, one he caught from the corner of his eye as they fell into step side by side, heading toward the locker rooms. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, just quiet — the kind that said all the right things without needing words.

Katsuki noticed the slight weight hanging in her shoulders, not pressing, just enough to tell him her mind was somewhere else. But he didn’t push. He never did, not when it came to her.

Instead, as they reached the split between the boys' and girls' locker rooms, he slowed slightly and muttered under his breath, almost so quiet she could’ve missed it.

“...See you out there.”

Kaia gave him a quick glance, catching the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and with a nod, she answered softly, “Yeah. See you.”

And with that, the two parted ways, both holding onto the quiet understanding that lingered between them, steady and unspoken.

*****

The sound of heavy footfalls echoed through the training gym as Class 1-A worked through the afternoon heat, refining their ultimate moves one last time before the provisional license exam. The room buzzed with a mix of shouts, quirk blasts, and the hum of determination — every student locked in on perfecting their techniques.

Kaia stood to the side, catching her breath and adjusting her gloves, watching as her classmates pushed their limits. Nearby, Midoriya practiced his Shoot Style adjustments while Bakugo tested the control of his new explosion gauntlets, sweat dripping from his temples.

The gym doors suddenly swung open with an overconfident BANG, drawing everyone’s attention. Striding in like they owned the place, Class 1-B filed through the doors, led — unsurprisingly — by Neito Monoma, his trademark smug grin already plastered across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Class 1-A still struggling to patch together last-minute ultimate moves?” Monoma’s voice cut through the room like nails on a chalkboard. “Tsk, I almost feel bad for you. But I suppose even last-ditch efforts won’t save you when the real test comes.”

Several members of Class 1-A stiffened, irritation flashing across faces — Kirishima cracked his knuckles, and Kaminari raised a brow in playful disbelief.

Monoma, with a haughty laugh, folded his arms and declared, “You should know now — come exam day, Class 1-B will be the ones shining as future heroes! Don’t get too comfortable wearing those uniforms.”

Before anyone could snap back, Aizawa, who had been leaning lazily against the wall near the gym entrance, finally opened his mouth.

“You’re wasting your breath, Monoma,” he said flatly, his tired gaze flicking to the clock. “The provisional license exam isn’t going to be a direct match between classes. You’ll be in different locations entirely — no chances to settle any imaginary rivalry during the test.”

Monoma’s expression faltered for half a second before he quickly masked it with a scoff. “Hmph, it doesn’t matter! We’ll outperform you even from across the country.”

As the rest of Class 1-B began filing into their portion of the gym, a mix of laughter and playful jeers rippled through Class 1-A, the tension loosening just a bit. Kaia, still catching her breath, exchanged a small knowing glance with Bakugo across the room, both silently agreeing — no matter where the test was held, they’d be more than ready.

Class 1-A gathered their things and began filing out of the training grounds, the air still warm from their final practice, Vlad King approached Aizawa near the door. His voice was gruff but sincere, offering a sharp contrast to the lingering tension left behind by his student.

“Sorry about Monoma,” Vlad muttered with a shake of his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know how he is — always running his mouth. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

Aizawa, as unreadable as ever, gave a tired nod. “So long as he learns where the line is.” His tone was low but clear, enough for the Class 1-B students still within earshot to hear.

Just as the last of Class 1-A stepped toward the doors, Kaia included, Monoma’s voice rang out once more — sharp and deliberately loud enough to halt their stride.

“You should be more worried about yourselves,” he sneered, hands tucked smugly into his pockets. “I mean, if you couldn’t even stop two of your own classmates from getting kidnapped —” his golden eyes flicked pointedly between Kaia and Katsuki “— what makes you think you’re even qualified to pass the provisional exam?”

The room fell silent for a moment. Kaia, her steps slowing, felt her chest tighten as the weight of those words hung in the air. She could almost hear the faint shift of Bakugo tensing behind her, the familiar low grit of his teeth clenching in frustration.

Before anyone else could respond, Aizawa’s voice cut through the silence — sharp, unimpressed, and final.

“Monoma. That’s enough.”

The snide smirk wavered for a beat on Monoma’s face, but he said nothing more as Aizawa’s cold stare locked onto him. Without another word, Class 1-A continued moving, some exchanging quiet glances of reassurance, others shaking their heads, choosing not to let Monoma's jab stick.

Kaia walked alongside Uraraka, her heart still steadying itself, while Bakugo trailed slightly behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Though Monoma’s words stung, neither of them needed to say a thing — they’d prove the truth at the exam.

*****

Kaia sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of her bedside lamp casting a warm light over her room. The lingering comfort from dinner — Sato’s homemade curry and Yaoyorozu’s perfectly brewed tea — had eased her muscles after the long day of training, but her mind was still tangled in thoughts.

Her phone rested against her ear, thumb absently brushing over the fabric of her sweatpants as she listened to the steady ring on the other end, waiting for her mom to answer. The quiet hum of the dorm halls outside her door felt distant, muffled by her focus.

After a few more rings, the click of the call connecting came through, followed by her mother’s familiar voice — calm, warm, and slightly out of breath, as if she'd hurried to catch the phone.

"Kaia, sweetheart! Sorry, I was in the middle of folding laundry — how are you, love?"

Hearing her mom’s voice instantly softened the tightness in Kaia’s chest. A small smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back against her pillows.

"Hey, Mom," she said softly. "I’m okay. Just finished dinner. I wanted to check in, just like dad said before he left."

There was a small pause on the other end, her mom’s tone gentling even more.

"Ah, yes. I haven’t heard from much since — you know how he is when he gets focused. But I’m glad you called, honey."

Kaia shifted, curling her legs underneath her as she propped the phone up against her ear. Her fingers absentmindedly ran through her hair, the calmness of her mother's voice pulling her further into relaxation.

"Everything’s been... pretty good, actually," Kaia continued, leaning back against her headboard. "Training’s been intense, but I feel like I’m getting better with my moves. You know, things are starting to click more with the ultimate moves we’ve been working on. It’s all just... a lot of pressure."

Her mother’s voice softened, a slight concern in her tone. "I can imagine, sweetie. You’ve always put so much effort into everything. But remember, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If it gets too overwhelming, you can always lean on your friends, or even your teachers. They’re there to help you."

Kaia nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see it. The thought of leaning on others — especially her classmates — hadn’t always been easy for her, but over time, it was becoming more natural. There was comfort in knowing she wasn’t as alone as she sometimes felt.

"I know," she replied quietly. "I’ve been trying to open up more. You know, actually spending time with the girls. It’s... kind of nice." A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered that night, sitting around the fire pit on the rooftop, laughing and telling stories.

Her mom chuckled softly. "I’m so glad to hear that, Kaia. You’ve always been so independent, but it’s important to have those close connections with people who care about you. Don’t forget that you deserve to have fun and enjoy yourself too."

Kaia bit her lip, the weight of her own thoughts pressing in, but she pushed them aside for now. "Yeah, I think I’m getting there. It’s just... there’s a lot of pressure on all of us, and sometimes it feels like everything’s just moving so fast."

Her mom’s voice softened even more, becoming almost a gentle whisper. "Sweetheart, you don’t have to rush through everything. You’re still growing, still learning. And no matter how fast the world moves, you’ll always have a place to come back to. Don’t forget that."

Kaia’s eyes closed for a moment, letting her mom’s words settle deep within her heart. "Thanks, Mom. I... I needed to hear that."

The silence between them was comfortable, filled with a love that Kaia could always rely on. After a few moments, her mom spoke again.

"Of course, Kaia. I’ll always be here for you. And remember to check in with your father when you can. He might be busy, but he’s always thinking of you, too."

Kaia smiled, the warmth of the conversation wrapping around her like a blanket. "I will. I miss you, Mom. I’ll call again soon."

"I’ll be waiting, love," her mom said softly, her voice full of affection. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, Kaia."

After a few more moments of quiet, Kaia hung up the phone and leaned back against her bed, feeling a sense of peace that had been missing for a while. The noise of the dorms outside her door felt less overwhelming now, and the pressure of the upcoming exam didn’t seem quite as heavy.

Kaia’s heart skipped a beat as she instinctively stood up, her feet lightly touching the ground, just as the soft tap on the door echoed through her room. The familiarity of it, the subtle, almost unspoken presence that only one person could have, made her smile without even thinking.

"Katsuki?" she called, her voice betraying a hint of amusement.

The door creaked open slightly, and his voice followed, gruff yet not unkind. "You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna let me in?"

Kaia chuckled softly, shaking her head as she stepped toward the door and opened it fully. Standing there in the hallway, Katsuki’s usual scowl was softened by a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and the slight tension in his posture was almost imperceptible, but Kaia noticed it nonetheless.

“You’re not busy, right?” Katsuki asked, his tone a little less sharp than usual, though still unmistakably him.

“Not at all,” Kaia said, her lips curling into a smile. She stepped aside to let him in, her eyes lingering on him for a second longer than usual before she caught herself. "Just got off the phone with my mom. She wanted to check in before the exams tomorrow."

Katsuki grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking around her room with mild interest as he entered. "How’s she doing? Your mom, I mean."

“She’s good," Kaia answered, walking over to her bed and sitting down. She brushed her fingers through her hair, glancing up at him as he leaned against the door frame. "She’s always worried about me, you know? But I’m doing better... better than I have in a while.”

Katsuki’s gaze softened just a fraction, though it was so subtle most wouldn’t have noticed. He pushed off from the doorframe and walked closer, stopping just a few feet in front of her. "I’m glad... you’re doin' better. You deserve that."

Kaia blinked, a bit caught off guard by his rare sentiment. She smiled softly, her voice quieter now. "Thanks, Katsuki."

For a long moment, there was silence between them, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but felt somehow more... significant. She could feel the shift in the air, the way things had subtly changed between them. The moments of vulnerability they’d shared over the past few weeks—things were moving in a new direction, and neither of them was quite ready to put it into words.

Katsuki broke the silence with a sharp inhale, turning his gaze toward the window. "You ready for tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject with his usual abruptness.

Kaia snorted lightly. "I mean, as ready as I’ll ever be. But honestly, I'm more worried about the whole class than just me. We're all gonna be in this together, right?"

He scoffed, but there was a flicker of something else there—something unspoken in the way his lips twitched. "Yeah, sure. But don't expect me to go easy on you."

Kaia raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. "Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want it any other way."

Katsuki smirked at her response, though it was small and just a bit softer than usual. He turned toward the door, giving her one last glance before he stepped back into the hallway. "See you tomorrow. Don’t slack off, alright?"

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Kaia replied with a grin, watching him leave her room.

As she closed the door behind him, Kaia leaned against it for a moment, her heart beating a little faster than it should have been. The day ahead was sure to be stressful, but for now, there was a sense of calm that washed over her. Things were changing between her and Katsuki, and while the uncertainty of what lay ahead lingered, there was one thing she knew for sure: she wasn’t facing it alone.

*****

The crisp morning air bit at their skin as Class 1-A stood in front of the testing facility, all of them feeling the weight of the upcoming provisional hero license exam. Nervous energy hung in the air, but it was mixed with anticipation—this was their time to prove everything they’d been working for.

Kaia took deep breath as she glanced around at her classmates. Everyone looked determined, focused, but there was still a slight tension running through the group. The Provisional Exams were no joke, and the thought of competing against other schools made things feel even more real.

As they approached the entrance, a familiar, almost annoying voice rang out from behind them.

“Hey! You guys look like you’re trying to get away without saying hi!” The voice belonged to none other than Ms. Joke, the eccentric teacher from Ketsubutsu Academy. She bounced toward them, her bright, energetic demeanor a stark contrast to the calm, no-nonsense presence of Mr. Aizawa.

She was wearing a costume that mirrored her personality—loud, cheerful, and just a bit off the wall. She waved enthusiastically, drawing the attention of several of the Class 1-A students, who hadn’t expected to see her here.

“Ms. Joke!” Kaia greeted with a smile, stepping forward. The two had met before at different hero-related events, and Kaia could always appreciate her exuberance despite how different her energy was compared to most of the other teachers.

“Kaia! Look at you all suited up and ready for the big day!” Ms. Joke exclaimed, eyes twinkling. “I’m excited to see what you can do! You’re all going to make this interesting!”

As Ms. Joke made her rounds, greeting the rest of Class 1-A with her usual energetic enthusiasm, the students couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. Despite the high stakes of the exam, her presence was almost like a burst of sunshine in a tense situation.

“Mr. Aizawa told me you’d be here!” Ms. Joke continued, her tone suddenly more conspiratorial. “Did you know he and I have been friends for years? He’s a tough cookie, but I think he’s a little soft for you kids, you know?”

Kaia chuckled at the playful jab aimed at their usually stoic homeroom teacher. She had noticed, over the past few months, that despite his rough exterior, Mr. Aizawa did have a soft spot for his students. It was always in those quiet, unsaid moments.

“Alright, alright,” Ms. Joke said, waving her hand theatrically, “I won’t keep you from your big day! Just wanted to wish you all good luck! Don’t let Ketsubutsu steal the spotlight, okay?”

Class 1-A laughed, but the nerves were still there, under the surface.

As Ms. Joke finally peeled away from the group with her usual teasing grin, Class 1-A turned their attention back to Aizawa. The tired-eyed teacher pulled his scarf a little higher around his neck, his voice steady but carrying that familiar edge of encouragement only he could manage.

“This exam isn’t just about showing off your Quirks. It’s about proving you can think, act, and protect others like real heroes. You’ve all trained hard for this. Trust in your preparation — and each other.”

The class gave small nods, the air buzzing with both nerves and determination as the testing facility doors loomed ahead.

Kaia fell into step beside Katsuki, walking quietly at his side, both of them sharp and focused as they crossed the threshold — but just as her foot hit the first step inside, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She frowned, glancing down at the screen.

Mitsuki Bakugo.

Her steps faltered slightly, enough for Katsuki to notice. His head turned, catching the name on her screen — his mom. His sharp features twisted in confusion, his usual scowl softening into something closer to concern.

Kaia didn’t hesitate, quickly answering as her heart crept up into her throat.

“Hello, Mitsuki?”

Kaia’s breath hitched the moment Mitsuki’s voice came through the line, unusually calm, but the kind of calm that barely held back the weight of something heavier underneath.

“Kaia, sweetheart— I didn’t want to scare you, but I needed to tell you before anyone else could.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt like the whole world tilted sideways.

“Your father’s mission... something went wrong. They were ambushed. He’s alive — but he’s hurt, bad. They rushed him to the hospital, your mom’s already on her way there.” Mitsuki’s voice cracked slightly before she forced herself to steady it. “I’m heading to the testing facility now. I’ll be there in a few minutes to pick you up. So get ready, alright?”

Kaia’s throat tightened, her heart hammering against her ribs as her mind tried to process the rush of words. Katsuki, still watching her, furrowed his brows the moment he saw her expression shift — the kind of look that told him everything without a single word spoken.

Kaia swallowed hard, whispering into the phone, “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

The call ended, her hands lowering slowly, phone still clutched tight. Katsuki stepped a little closer, his voice low and steady.

“What happened?”

She barely managed to whisper back, “My dad. He’s in the hospital.”

Kaia quickly weaved through the gathering students, spotting Aizawa near the entrance as he finished his last instructions to the class. Her voice was soft but urgent when she reached him.

“Mr. Aizawa… I have to go. My dad—he was hurt during his mission. He’s in the hospital. Mrs. Bakugo is coming to pick me up now.”

Aizawa’s tired eyes sharpened at the news, his expression shifting from stern to understanding in an instant. He gave her a small, steady nod.

“Family comes first,” he said simply. “Go. I’ll talk to the officials and figure out how you can make up your exam later. Take care of yourself, Mikage.”

Just as Kaia turned away, a familiar car pulled up to the curb. Mitsuki barely put it in park before climbing out, her usual sharp-edged attitude replaced by something softer, more maternal. Without a word, she opened the passenger door for Kaia, ushering her inside as Katsuki watched from the entrance, jaw tight but eyes full of concern.

As the car pulled away from the testing grounds, Kaia stared out the window, phone resting in her lap, gripping the seatbelt as Mitsuki drove as fast as the law would let her — both of them too quiet, both hearts heavy with worry.

*****

Kaia barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before unclicking her seatbelt. Mitsuki reached across and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, her voice low but steady.

“I have to head back to work, but if you or Mara need anything call me alright?”

Kaia nodded quickly and stepped out, her legs moving on instinct as she hurried through the hospital’s sliding doors. The sterile, cold air hit her like a wall, but she kept her head down, walking straight to the front desk.

“My father—Pro Hero Bedrock. He was brought in earlier.” Her voice was rushed, but the nurse behind the desk didn’t miss a beat, scanning her chart before offering the room number.

“Your mother is on the third floor sweetheart, the elevators are to your left.”

Kaia gave a quiet thank you before racing toward the elevators, tapping the button repeatedly as if it would make the doors open faster. When the doors finally slid open, she stepped inside, her heart hammering in her chest the entire ride up.

The elevator doors opened to the third floor, and the moment she stepped out, she spotted her mom sitting in the waiting area. Her mother looked up, eyes red and tired but still holding it together. Kaia’s breath caught the second she saw her, her feet carrying her over in a few quick strides before dropping into her mother’s open arms.

Kaia finally pulled back just enough to look at her mother’s face, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

“What… what happened, Mom?”

Her mother let out a shaky breath, brushing a hand down Kaia’s hair like she used to when Kaia was little, trying to ground both of them.

“During the mission, the team closed in on the supply convoy,” her mother started, her voice wavering despite her effort to stay composed. “But it was a setup. A bomb was rigged to detonate the second they closed in. Your father… he was too close when it went off.”

Kaia swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten.

“A piece of debris…” her mother paused, her lip trembling before she forced the words out, “It impaled him. His abdomen. He lost a lot of blood by the time Fat Gum and the medics got him out.”

Kaia’s world blurred for a moment, the sterile waiting room suddenly feeling suffocating.

“He’s in the OR now,” her mom added softly. “The doctors said it’s critical… they’re doing everything they can.”

Kaia sat there frozen, her hands gripping her knees so tightly her knuckles paled, staring at the doors to the surgery ward as if sheer will would bring him out safe and whole.

*****

Minutes stretched into hours, the sterile scent of the hospital and the soft shuffle of nurses’ shoes on linoleum floors looping endlessly as Kaia paced the third floor. Her heart had settled into a dull, tight ache in her chest, the adrenaline that first rushed through her now drained, leaving only exhaustion and fear. She had lost count of how many times she’d made the same loop around the waiting area, her mother’s figure anchored on the stiff couch nearby, silent but equally frayed at the edges.

Every time the OR doors cracked open, her breath would catch, hope flaring in her chest, only to dim when a nurse or another family stepped through. Time moved like molasses, and Kaia had never felt so helpless.

Finally, the doors swung open again, but this time, the person walking through wasn’t a nurse. It was the surgeon — a man in light blue scrubs with faint creases around his eyes, like he’d carried the weight of many such nights. His gaze swept across the waiting room until it landed on Kaia and her mother.

“Family for Zaire Mikage?” he asked softly, voice even but kind.

Amara shot up from her chair, Kaia rising beside her, the two locking hands instinctively, bracing for whatever came next.

The surgeon stepped closer, offering a tired but genuine smile. “The operation went as well as we could’ve hoped. We were able to remove the debris from his abdomen. There was extensive internal bleeding, but we managed to stop it in time. He also suffered second-degree burns from the blast’s proximity, but none of the injuries were beyond what we could treat.”

Kaia’s throat tightened, her vision blurring slightly as the wave of relief began to crash through her, her knees wobbling beneath her. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until the exhale left her in a shaky, quiet sob.

“Right now, he’s stable,” the surgeon continued. “It’ll take time, and he’s got a long road of recovery ahead — but he’s strong. If he rests and follows care, we expect a full recovery.”

Kaia pressed a hand to her chest, as if steadying her heart from pounding too hard. Tears brimmed and finally spilled over, but for the first time that day, they weren’t out of fear or helplessness. They were tears of pure, unfiltered relief.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper, voice quivering but sincere. She dipped her head slightly, her mother following suit, both offering quiet gratitude to the man who had held her father’s life in his hands.

Once the surgeon left and the relief settled into her bones, Kaia and her mother sat quietly for a while longer, neither speaking much, just holding onto the comfort of knowing he’d pulled through. When the nurse finally came to let them know her father had been moved to a recovery room, Kaia was the first one on her feet.

The walk down the hall felt endless, her steps both light with relief and heavy with lingering worry. When the nurse gently pushed open the door to the room, the soft beeping of machines was the first sound to greet her, steady and reassuring. Her father lay in the hospital bed, pale and battered — his torso wrapped in bandages, a thin oxygen tube resting beneath his nose, arms bruised and scraped, but alive.

Kaia stood there in the doorway for a long second, her throat tightening again, but this time the emotion was gentler, warmer. She stepped in quietly, her mother following behind as the nurse excused herself, giving them the room.

She pulled the chair up close to the bed and sat down, resting her arms lightly on the edge of the mattress. His hand, large and calloused from years of hero work, lay limp on the blanket. Slowly, carefully, she slid her fingers over his, holding on without squeezing, just letting the contact ground her.

“Hey, Dad…” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

His eyes fluttered slightly, struggling against the heavy weight of medication and exhaustion. When they finally opened — even if only a sliver — and landed on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo…” he rasped out, weak but alive.

Tears welled in Kaia’s eyes all over again, but this time she didn’t try to blink them away. She squeezed his fingers gently, leaning in closer.

“You scared me,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion, but her smile was soft. “You scared us both.”

Her father gave a faint, tired chuckle that quickly turned into a wince, the pain still sharp, but the humour still there. “Wasn’t planning on making it a habit.”

Kaia stayed right there beside him, never letting go of his hand, while her mother sat on the other side, brushing a gentle hand through his hair. The family didn’t need many words — their relief and love filled the space in quiet waves, a silent promise that no matter what came next, they’d face it together.

Chapter Text

As the quiet rhythm of the hospital room settled into something steady and calm, Kaia noticed the deep lines of exhaustion on her mother’s face and the way her father’s eyelids kept fluttering closed, fighting off the pull of sleep. The relief was still fresh, but so was the weight of everything that had happened.

Letting her hand slip away from her father’s, Kaia stood slowly from the chair, her joints stiff from sitting for so long.

“I’m gonna grab us something to eat,” she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly against her mother’s shoulder. “You two… could probably use a minute alone.”

Her mother looked up at her, eyes soft with gratitude but worn from hours of worry. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said quietly, offering a faint, tired smile.

Kaia gave a small nod, glancing once more at her father, who gave her a weak thumbs-up from the bed, the corner of his mouth quirking in silent thanks.

She slipped out of the room, letting the door close quietly behind her. The moment she was in the hallway, she let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The air still smelled faintly sterile and the overhead lights still buzzed softly, but the tension in her chest finally loosened.

She made her way toward the small cafeteria on the first floor, walking with her hands stuffed into her pockets, letting her mind wander for the first time all day. Between the phone call, the rush to the hospital, and the endless hours of waiting — it all felt like a blur. But at least now there was hope waiting for them upstairs.

Grabbing a couple of simple sandwiches, two bottles of tea, and some packaged fruit, she took her time heading back. She figured her parents could use all the quiet moments alone they could get. After everything they’d been through, they deserved it.

When she finally returned to the third floor, food in hand, Kaia paused just outside the room for a moment, hearing the soft murmur of her parents’ voices from inside.

Entering the room, Kaia sat back in the chair beside her father's bed, the sandwiches she’d picked up from the cafeteria resting on the small tray beside her. Her mother was sitting quietly in the chair opposite, her eyes never leaving her husband. The room felt peaceful now, almost as if time had slowed just to allow them this moment of quiet.

Kaia took a small bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly as she processed the question her father had just asked. He was looking at her with his usual intensity, the same gaze that had always been there even in the most chaotic moments. Despite everything that had happened today, he was still focused on her well-being, his concern evident even through the exhaustion.

“The exam was today,” her father said, his voice a little hoarse from the strain. He shifted slightly in the bed, but he didn’t look at her with guilt or concern, just a quiet interest. “What happened? Did you pass it?”

Kaia felt a lump form in her throat. She had hardly thought about the exam in all the chaos. Between the rush to the hospital, the worry, and the constant waiting, her mind had been elsewhere. But she understood why he was asking. Despite everything, he still cared about her future, her growth, her path.

She let out a soft sigh, placing the sandwich back down on the tray. “Mr. Aizawa… he let me leave. He understood. I couldn’t just ignore this,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “He would see if I could make it up later. I just… couldn’t stay there while you were here. I needed to be with you, and he gets that. So I missed it.” Her eyes glanced down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her shirt nervously.

Her father gave a small, understanding nod, his eyes softening, if only slightly. “I’m proud of you for making that decision.” His voice was quiet but reassuring. “And you’ll have another chance for the exam. You always do your best. That’s what counts.”

Kaia looked up at him, her chest tight with emotion. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Her mother finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. “He’s right, Kaia. You made the right choice. And we’ll make sure you don’t miss out on the next opportunity. We’re all in this together.”

Kaia smiled softly, grateful for the support, for the understanding they gave her without hesitation. She was lucky to have a family like them — always supporting her, no matter what.

With the weight of the situation still lingering, her father’s gaze softened, his voice tinged with humor. “Just don’t let Katsuki or Izuku get ahead of you, okay?”

A small laugh escaped Kaia, the tension in her shoulders easing as she finally relaxed a little. “I won’t. Don’t worry.”

Her father gave her a wink. “Good. You’ve got this. No one’s better than you, kid.”

Kaia nodded, her heart lightening with his words. She had a long road ahead, but for now, with her father safe, she was content to just be here — with him, with her mother, and knowing that her classmates would understand.

*****

The sun dipped low behind the dorm windows, painting the common room in soft amber hues as Class 1A gathered together, the day’s tension still lingering in the air. The room, usually buzzing with chatter and teasing after training or lessons, felt unusually quiet. Everyone noticed the two empty places — Kaia’s and Katsuki’s.

Bakugo hadn’t come down since they returned from the exam site. No snarky remarks, no sharp glares, not even the sound of him stomping around. Word had quickly spread among the class that he’d missed the passing mark for the provisional license. And while his pride and temper were as strong as ever, this hit different. The class could tell. He was probably sitting in his room, stewing, avoiding the world, and the mood reflected it.

And then there was Kaia. Her sudden disappearance that morning had left everyone uneasy, the confusion hanging heavy over them since she’d left with Katsuki’s mom. None of them had the full picture, only the image of her worried face as she spoke quietly with Aizawa before rushing away.

Ashido sat curled up on the couch next to Uraraka, both girls exchanging worried glances while Sero flipped absentmindedly through the TV channels, hoping for anything to distract them. Midoriya, always the overthinker, had been quiet most of the evening, fingers fidgeting with his pencil as he tried to piece together the timeline in his mind.

But the moment the news anchor’s voice broke through the quiet, the whole room froze.

“…the pro hero known as Bedrock was seriously injured earlier today during a mission connected to an underground drug trafficking ring,” the reporter stated, the headline flashing across the screen: Pro Hero Bedrock Injured in Critical Mission.

Footage rolled — an aerial view of a wrecked warehouse, smoke still curling into the sky, debris scattered like broken puzzle pieces. The camera cut to a stock photo of Bedrock, his hero costume crisp and composed in the picture, a sharp contrast to the grim reality the reporter described.

“Kaia’s dad…” Kaminari’s voice broke the silence, low and stunned.

The pieces fell into place all at once, the entire class now understanding why Kaia had vanished so quickly, why Mitsuki had shown up, and why Kaia hadn’t returned at all.

A weight settled over the room. Concern for Kaia piled on top of the worry they already felt for Bakugo, the group quiet as the news droned on with updates about the mission. Aizawa hadn’t told them the full details, but now they knew. Their classmate had been exactly where she needed to be — at her father’s side.

“Man…” Kirishima muttered softly, resting his elbows on his knees, “She must’ve been scared outta her mind.”

Uraraka rubbed her arm, staring at the TV even though the news had moved on to another story. “I hope he’s okay. And I hope Kaia’s holding up…”

The room stayed quiet, the bond between them even stronger in their unspoken understanding.

The front door creaked open not long after the news segment ended, and every head in the common room turned at once. There stood Kaia, her uniform wrinkled from the long day, her hair slightly tousled, and dark circles shadowing her eyes — but there was a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. The kind of smile that only came from relief.

The room went still for a moment, like no one quite knew what to say. But the weight hanging in the air eased the second Ashido scrambled up from the couch.

“Kaia!” she called out, rushing over, followed closely by Uraraka and Midoriya.

Kaia set her bag down, stretching her sore shoulders as she offered a tired chuckle. “Hey, guys...”

“We saw the news,” Uraraka said softly, her expression warm but concerned. “Your dad… is he—?”

Kaia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah. He’s gonna be okay. The surgery went well, and the doctors think he’ll make a full recovery. It’s gonna be a long road, but... he’s still here.”

Relief rippled through the room, visible on every face. Kaminari let out a long breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, and Kirishima clapped a firm hand on her shoulder, careful but steady.

“You should’ve texted,” Sero added gently, leaning against the back of the couch. “We were worried about you.”

Kaia gave them all a grateful glance, her smile softening. “I know... I just — I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

The room fell into a peaceful, supportive silence, the kind that only came when friends understood there weren’t any right words. They didn’t need them.

Ashido looped her arm through Kaia’s and tugged her toward the couch. “You better sit down before you fall over.”

“Yeah,” Kaia chuckled under her breath, letting herself be pulled along. “I could use a break.”

As she settled onto the couch, surrounded by her classmates, it felt like some of the heaviness from the day had finally lifted. Her mind was still on her father, but her heart was lighter — knowing he was safe, and knowing that when she came home, this group would always have her back.

From the staircase, out of sight but within earshot, Katsuki stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, listening. The scowl he wore all day had softened just slightly, his eyes flicking down to the floor before he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way back to his room — quietly relieved, and for once, more at peace.

Kaia’s seismic sense tingled the moment a familiar pair of heavy, deliberate footsteps moved away from the common room and up the stairs — Katsuki. The second his door shut, muffled but distinct, her mind was already made up.

She pushed herself up from the couch, stretching her arms overhead with a quiet yawn.

“I’m gonna go shower,” she said casually, offering a small smile to the few classmates still hanging around the common room. No one questioned it, too caught up in their own post-exam chatter and the lingering weight of the day’s events.

With that, Kaia made her way to the elevator, the soft ding barely registering over her thoughts as it climbed. When the doors slid open on her floor, she stepped out, heading straight for the cracked door at the end of the hall — Katsuki’s.

She approached his door, the soft glow of his desk lamp spilling through the crack. For a moment, she hesitated — fingertips brushing the edge of the door — before she gave a gentle knock against the wood.

Katsuki, seated on the edge of his bed, looked up at the sound. His elbows rested on his knees, hands loosely laced together, and for once his usual sharpness was dulled into something quieter, more thoughtful.

“Tch,” he muttered, sitting up straighter. “Knew you were gonna come.”

Kaia stepped inside without waiting for an invite, closing the door halfway behind her. “You didn’t exactly make it hard to figure out,” she replied softly, her voice carrying the faintest note of exhaustion, but no sadness. “I felt you standing there… before you slipped away.”

Katsuki’s eyes flicked to her, unreadable but steady, the room stretching into silence between them. No sharp remarks. No teasing smirks. Just the kind of quiet that only came when words weren’t really needed.

Kaia eased herself down beside him on the bed, letting out a long breath as the weight of the day started to settle again, softer this time. For a while neither of them spoke, and that was okay.

Finally, Katsuki broke the silence, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.
“...Your old man’s tough. He’ll be alright.”

Kaia smiled faintly, turning her head to look at him. “Yeah. He will.”

The corner of his mouth quirked just barely, almost a smirk but not quite. “Good. ‘Cause I was two seconds from draggin’ you back to the dorms if you didn’t show.”

That earned a soft laugh from her, easing the last of the tension knotted in her chest. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

For a while longer they just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, the city’s fading sunset painting the room in hues of orange and purple. No pressure, no expectations — just two people finding comfort in each other’s quiet company.

Kaia looked over at his again, she didn’t have to ask — the answer had been written all over him the second she walked through his door. The usual sharp edge in his voice was missing, no barking or snapping at their classmates, just quiet, heavy silence. He’d kept his distance, isolating himself from the group like a wounded animal, and she had felt it the moment his footsteps retreated upstairs.

She didn’t dance around it, didn’t prod or sugarcoat — she already knew.

“What happened?”

Her voice was quiet, not accusatory, not pitying. Just a simple question, laced with understanding.

Katsuki didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed slightly, eyes fixed on the floor, elbows resting against his knees as he leaned forward. The sharp edge that usually coated his voice wasn’t there — no usual bark, no defensiveness.

For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of his desk lamp and the faint evening breeze against the dorm windows.

He let out a slow breath, hands tightening into loose fists.

“Dunno,” he muttered finally, voice low but honest. “Guess I couldn’t… get it right.”

Kaia stayed quiet, giving him the space to let it out if he wanted to. She shifted just enough to rest her elbow on her knee, cheek against her fist, watching him with patient eyes.

Katsuki rubbed at the back of his neck, frustrated more with himself than anyone else. “They said I didn’t know how to work with people. Said I was too... explosive. Too much of a damn ‘lone wolf.’” His voice flattened on the words, but Kaia could feel the sting that lingered beneath them.

She nodded slowly, not in judgment — just understanding. “They’re not wrong,” she said gently, her tone soft but not unkind. “But you’re not the same as when we started this. You’re getting there. It’s just... hard to unlearn the walls you built around yourself.”

His eyes flicked to her then, sharp but searching. Like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. Not with her.

“Tch.” He leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. “Still feels like crap.”

Kaia gave a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. But it’s just one step. You’ll pass it next time.”

A quiet huff escaped him — not quite a laugh, but close. The tension in the room eased just slightly, and for the first time that evening, he let his head fall back against the wall and looked at her properly.

“Thanks… for not sayin’ ‘I’m sorry.’”

Kaia’s lips lifted into a soft smile. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

He gave a low snort at that, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The weight of the day hadn’t vanished, but it felt a little less heavy now. Just sitting there with her, he didn’t have to pretend.

She pushed off the bed with a small exhale, the weight of the day finally catching up to her. Kaia paused at the threshold, glancing back at him — the tension between them lingering, unspoken but understood.

“I’m actually gonna take that shower now,” she said softly, a hint of her usual lightness creeping back into her voice.

Her hand rested on the door for a second longer before she added, “If you need me... you know where my room is.”

With that, she slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, giving him space but making sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

*****

Kaia tossed beneath the blankets, her brow furrowed and breath quickening as the peaceful quiet of her dorm room was shattered by the nightmare unfolding behind her closed eyes.

The dream had started innocent enough — her father, whole and healthy, standing tall in his hero gear, the sun shining behind him. But that warmth twisted fast, the sky darkened, and the world around her tilted into chaos. Flames erupted from nowhere, devouring everything in sight. Her father stood at the center, trapped, struggling, as the fire roared higher.

No matter how hard she ran, her legs wouldn’t move fast enough. She screamed for him — her throat raw and powerless in the dream.

And then the flames shifted. Blue. Unmistakable. That cold, signature shade that crawled into her bones. Out of the smoke stepped Dabi, hands tucked in his pockets, head tilted slightly as that low, dark chuckle echoed — the same one that haunted her from that dreadful night.

He stood there, watching her suffer. Watching her father burn. And all she could do was stand frozen, powerless, as the nightmare dragged her deeper.

Kaia’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest tightening as panic washed over her, suffocating her. The dream still clung to her, the nightmare of her father burning alive, and the memory of Dabi’s mocking laugh echoed in her head like a drumbeat she couldn’t escape.

Her body jolted as the bed dipped, and before she could process what was happening, she was pitched out onto the cold floor. Her hands scrambled for purchase, trying to steady herself as the panic took over. Her heart raced, each beat louder than the last, pounding in her ears. It felt like the world was closing in on her—her breath too shallow, her thoughts spiraling faster than she could grasp them.

Kaia tried to focus, to calm herself, but it was hard to breathe through the tightness in her chest. Her hands shook as she reached up, trying to push herself off the floor, her eyes blurry with unshed tears. She couldn’t think, couldn’t see straight. Every thought was clouded with fear, every breath a struggle.

And then, through the haze, she saw it.

A familiar patch of blonde hair, framed by the soft light coming in through her window. Her vision cleared just enough to make out the silhouette standing near her bed—Katsuki.

His figure was shadowed by the soft light from the window, but there was no mistaking him. He must have heard her fall, felt the weight of her panic attack. The tension in his posture was unmistakable, but there was something else—an intensity in his gaze that told her he wasn’t just standing there to watch her suffer.

"Kaia," he said softly, his voice breaking through the fog of her panic. "Look at me."

She could barely make sense of his words, her mind still reeling from the nightmare. But something about his voice, steady and calm, cut through the haze. His presence was grounding, even if she couldn’t fully process it.

Kaia’s body was trembling as she slowly forced her gaze up to meet his, her breath still erratic. His eyes were sharp, focused—everything about him seemed the opposite of the chaos inside her head.

"Hey," he said again, this time a little louder. "You’re okay. Breathe with me."

She nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she fully understood him. But his voice was a lifeline, a tether keeping her from drowning in the panic. He crouched down next to her, careful not to startle her more, and placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip warm and steady.

Kaia let out a shaky breath, and Katsuki’s hand on her shoulder was a quiet anchor in the storm. His presence wasn’t overwhelming, just enough to give her a sense of grounding.

"You’re gonna be fine," he said, his tone gentler than she expected, though his usual edge was still there. "Just breathe. In, out. Slowly. You’ve got this."

Kaia followed his instructions, trying to steady herself, to slow her breathing. His hand remained on her shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing the fabric of her pajama top. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the chaos, and after a few moments, she felt herself start to calm down.

Kaia’s breathing had finally steadied, her chest no longer constricting with the weight of the panic attack. Her body still felt shaky, but with each passing second, she was grounding herself more and more. Katsuki hadn’t left her side, staying by her as if he could sense she wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.

As she lay back on her bed, trying to collect herself, she turned her head slightly to look at him. His posture was relaxed now, but there was something different about the way he was standing—less abrasive, more understanding.

She broke the silence first, her voice still soft but with a faint edge of curiosity. "Why did you come in?"

Katsuki didn’t immediately answer, his eyes flicking to the floor for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. He let out a low sigh, the usual tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he looked at her again.

"You told me earlier that if I ever needed anything, I could come by," he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Couldn’t sleep. My mind’s still stuck on that damn exam. Can’t stop thinking about it." He paused, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place in his gaze. "Came by and when I walked in, I saw you tossing and turning like... like you were having a nightmare. I tried waking you up, but then you fell out of bed."

Kaia’s mind quickly pieced together the situation. She had been so overwhelmed by the panic attack that she hadn’t even realized what had happened before it hit. She had been in the middle of a nightmare, the remnants of which still clung to her thoughts. It made sense now why Katsuki had been there.

A small, unspoken understanding passed between them in that moment. Even though it was unexpected and neither of them would have ever called themselves emotionally vulnerable, they both seemed to be fighting their own battles—Katsuki with his failure and Kaia with the haunting aftermath of her father’s injury and her own internal struggles.

"Thanks," Kaia said quietly, her voice still a little shaky, but the weight of it felt more real this time. She hadn’t expected him to show up at all, let alone help her through something so personal. "You didn’t have to, you know?"

Katsuki’s eyes softened for a moment, but he quickly shook his head, brushing it off with a typical grunt. "Tch, it’s not like you’d get through it without me, right?" His usual bravado was there, but it lacked its usual sting, a subtle vulnerability in his tone.

"Right," Kaia agreed softly, offering him a tired but grateful smile. "But seriously, thanks for being here."

Katsuki shifted his weight, standing a little taller as he made his way to the door. "Whatever. Just get some sleep, alright? You need it. No more falling out of bed."

Katsuki had just reached the door, his hand resting on the handle when Kaia’s voice stopped him. It was quiet, almost hesitant, but there was something in it—something raw—that made him freeze.

"Katsuki," Kaia said, her voice soft, but the edge of uncertainty in her words pulling at him. "Please... stay."

He turned back, his brow furrowing as his eyes flicked to her. He hadn’t expected her to say that—not after everything. Not after how she usually kept her distance, how independent she was. He hadn’t thought she’d need him, especially not like this.

Kaia was sitting up now, her back leaning against the headboard. She looked disoriented, like she’d just fought through the worst of a nightmare. Her eyes met his, and for a split second, he saw something different—something vulnerable. Not the usual strong Kaia, but someone who was just... human. Someone who needed something, or maybe someone.

It was different, and it hit him harder than he expected.

"Please," she repeated, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "I don’t want to be alone right now."

His throat tightened, and for a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her. There was hesitation in his eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of hesitation that made him want to walk away. It was something deeper, something that told him he couldn’t leave her alone, not like this.

He could feel the weight of her words, the weight of what she was asking of him, and even though he didn’t know how to handle this—how to handle her in this moment—he couldn’t bring himself to walk out that door.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled his hand away from the door and stepped back into her room, closing the door softly behind him. He didn’t speak immediately, just moved to the side of her bed. He sat down, the space between them still lingering, but it wasn’t as much of a distance as before.

Kaia let out a quiet breath as the door clicked shut, feeling a small sense of relief wash over her. She didn’t need to explain. He’d understood. He didn’t ask questions, just stayed.

Katsuki’s gaze flicked to her, his mouth twitching slightly as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. He wasn’t good at this—the being soft, the comforting part. It wasn’t him. But Kaia didn’t need him to be perfect. She just needed him to be there.

"Just... try to sleep, alright?" he finally said, his voice gruff, the words coming out more like a command than anything else. But there was sincerity underneath it, a sincerity that was rare for him. "You’re not alone. Not tonight."

Kaia nodded slowly, her chest feeling lighter than it had in hours. She hadn’t expected him to stay—not after everything that had been left unsaid between them, but here he was, in her room, not saying anything else but still... there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel so alone.

"Thanks," she whispered, the words barely audible, but she knew he’d hear them.

Katsuki didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back slightly, his eyes dropping to the floor, a small frown tugging at his features. He wasn’t sure what this was between them. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight.

And for Kaia, that quiet, unspoken presence—him staying with her when she didn’t expect it, when she needed it most—meant more than she could say.

*****

The next morning, Kaia found herself sitting on Midnight’s couch in the staff quarters, the warmth of a cup of tea between her hands, though the comfort it provided was nothing compared to the weight of the thoughts swirling in her mind. The quiet hum of the early morning made the air feel still, and the low sunlight that filtered through the windows gave the room a soft, hazy glow.

It wasn’t a place Kaia would have imagined herself in, but after last night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to talk to someone—someone who could help her make sense of the panic attack she’d experienced. Midnight had always been the one to give off a warm, maternal aura, and Kaia couldn’t help but think she might be the one who could offer some comfort.

"Tea’s good," Kaia murmured, trying to focus on the warmth in her hands rather than the tension still lingering in her chest. Midnight, sitting across from her with a gentle smile, waited patiently, her eyes knowing but kind.

Kaia took a deep breath before speaking again, the words coming slow but steady. "I had a panic attack last night... A nightmare, and everything just... came crashing in all at once. It was bad, and I couldn’t breathe. It’s not the first time, but it felt different this time."

Midnight nodded in understanding, her face serious but sympathetic. "It happens sometimes, especially when our minds are carrying more than we realize. Nightmares can trigger a lot of things you’ve been trying to suppress." She set her cup down on the table and leaned in slightly, her voice soft. "What happened after? I’m guessing you didn’t handle this alone."

Kaia hesitated, her gaze flicking to the floor. She could still remember the way she’d felt—dizzy, suffocating. It had been a fight to keep herself together. But then Katsuki had been there. Of all people.

"Katsuki... he helped me through it," Kaia said, her voice a little softer now. "I didn’t ask for it, but he was there. He stayed. And... he didn’t ask questions, didn’t push me to explain anything. He just—" She stopped herself, unsure how to explain it. "He just stayed with me until I could breathe again."

Midnight raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched Kaia’s expression. "That’s a big step, you know. Not just for him, but for you too."

Kaia’s fingers tightened around the cup, her gaze falling into her tea. "Yeah," she muttered, "I guess I’ve always been the one to keep people away. I’ve gotten used to doing things on my own. But..." She trailed off, biting her lip. "Last night, I needed him. And he just... didn’t make me feel like I was burdening him. It was strange."

Midnight let the silence hang for a moment before offering a gentle, thoughtful response. "You’ve been through a lot, Kaia. It’s normal to feel like you’re carrying more than you should, and sometimes, it takes a person who’s willing to just be there, without trying to fix anything, to help you get through the hardest moments. And you, letting someone in—letting Katsuki in—might mean you’re starting to let yourself heal in ways you haven’t before."

Kaia nodded slowly, her chest tightening again, but this time, it wasn’t from fear—it was from something softer, something she didn’t quite understand yet. "It feels... different now. I’m not sure what this means, but I know I’m not the same person I was before. And, I guess, neither is he."

Midnight smiled warmly, giving her a soft nod. "You don’t have to know exactly what it means right away. Sometimes, just taking things one step at a time is enough. But it’s good that you’re allowing yourself to lean on people—especially those who care about you."

Kaia sat back against the couch, the comforting weight of her tea still in her hands, feeling something lift off her shoulders.

She had wanted to talk about her nightmare, but the weight of something darker, more pressing, kept nudging at her mind. She hadn’t shared the details with anyone, not really—not in the way she knew she needed to.

Taking a deep breath, she set her cup down on the table and looked at Midnight, who was watching her with the same patient, understanding gaze she had before. Midnight didn’t push, just waited, giving Kaia the space to speak when she was ready. But Kaia knew that now was the time to finally say it out loud.

Her voice steady, but there was an edge of rawness to her words, something beneath the calm that Midnight could easily pick up on. Kaia didn’t go into detail; she didn’t need to. The way she said it, the tone in her voice, the subtle tremble just beneath the surface—it told Midnight everything.

Midnight’s expression shifted slightly, the softness in her eyes hardening with understanding. "Dabi..." she murmured, the name hanging in the air, laden with a sense of deep recognition. She leaned forward, her voice quieter but full of empathy. "Is that when everything started to change for you?"

Kaia nodded, her hands twisting in her lap. "Yeah. It was the night before the rescue. He came into my room and..." Her voice faltered for just a moment, but she regained her composure, pressing forward. "I didn’t tell anyone about it. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. And I don’t think I’m ready now, but..."

She paused, swallowing hard as her eyes met Midnight’s. "But it’s been haunting me. The memories of that night. It’s not just the nightmare. It’s everything—everything that happened then."

Midnight sat back slightly, her expression softening, but there was a sense of concern now. She could tell there was much more to the story, things Kaia wasn’t saying. "Have you told anyone about that night?" she asked gently. "About what Dabi did, about how you felt? Anyone at all?"

Kaia shook her head. "Just Katsuki. He was there... during the worst of it. But no one else. Not my parents. And with my dad in the hospital now, it’s not... it’s not the right time. I don’t want to worry them more than they already are."

Midnight’s brow furrowed, but she nodded in understanding. "I get that. It’s never easy to talk about those kinds of things, especially when you’re still processing it yourself. And with everything that’s going on with your father..." She trailed off, clearly sympathetic to Kaia’s situation.

Kaia swallowed again, her throat tight, but she refused to let her emotions get the best of her. "I don’t even know how to explain it. I just... I don’t want them to look at me differently. I’ve always kept that side of myself hidden—kept that part of my life separate. I don’t want to change how they see me."

Midnight was quiet for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. Then, in a calm but unwavering tone, she spoke. "You don’t have to explain everything right away, Kaia. But I need you to understand something: what happened to you, what Dabi did to you—it doesn’t define you. It’s a part of your story, but it’s not all of who you are. And you’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

Kaia looked up at Midnight, her eyes clouded with uncertainty, but there was something stirring in her chest—hope, maybe. Or maybe it was just the smallest sliver of relief. "I know," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it’s hard to believe it sometimes."

Midnight nodded, her voice gentle but firm. "That’s okay. It’s hard for everyone, especially when they’re facing things like this alone. But you’ve got people who care about you, Kaia. You’ve got people who will listen when you’re ready to talk. And I’m one of them."

Kaia didn’t respond right away, just sat there for a moment, absorbing the quiet support Midnight offered. The tension in her chest was still there, but it felt more manageable now, like the weight had shifted just a little.

She looked up at Midnight, offering a small, tentative smile. "Thanks, Miss Kayama."

Midnight smiled back, a soft, reassuring gesture. "Anytime, Kaia. You’re not in this alone."

And for the first time in a long while, Kaia felt a little less burdened.

Chapter Text

Kaia was walking back to the dorms, her mind still reeling from her conversation with Midnight. The weight of everything felt a little lighter, but she knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed in a single conversation. As she rounded the corner toward the dorm entrance, she spotted Mr. Aizawa talking to Katsuki and Shoto, both of them sitting on the steps, looking like they were in the middle of a serious conversation.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached, catching the tail end of Mr. Aizawa’s words, but it was clear they were discussing something important. She wasn’t sure if she should interrupt or keep walking, but as she stepped closer, Mr. Aizawa turned his head and gave her a brief nod, signaling her to join them.

"Perfect timing," he said, his voice steady and purposeful. "You need to be part of this conversation too."

Kaia’s brows furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. She hesitated for just a moment before walking over to stand next to them. The night air felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that lingered from her earlier conversation. Katsuki didn’t look at her, but she could feel his presence, still heavy with the tension from earlier. Shoto, on the other hand, seemed more neutral, his gaze focused ahead as he listened to Mr. Aizawa.

"What's going on?" Kaia asked, trying to get a sense of where this conversation was headed.

Mr. Aizawa gave her a look that was equal parts serious and neutral, the kind he always wore when talking about something important. "The officials for the Provisional License Exam got back to me," he said, pausing for a moment before turning his attention to Katsuki and Todoroki. "You two," he began, addressing them, "failed the exam, but you have an opportunity to make it up. You’ll be able to take a three-month course to earn your Provisional Licenses."

Katsuki scowled, obviously not thrilled about the idea of taking a course to make up for his failure, but Kaia could tell he was listening intently. Todoroki, on the other hand, was a little more composed, but his eyes shifted toward Mr. Aizawa with a mixture of curiosity and resolve.

Kaia glanced between the two of them, a sense of solidarity forming in her chest. It was clear that none of them had passed under the circumstances they'd faced. But what Mr. Aizawa said next caught her off guard.

"And," he continued, turning toward her, "the officials also said that you, Kaia, will be allowed to join the course to earn your Provisional License as well."

Kaia blinked, surprised by the unexpected news. "Wait, what? How did I fail? I wasn’t even there."

Mr. Aizawa’s expression softened just slightly—just enough to let her know he wasn’t being cruel, but he was being honest. "You didn’t fail in the traditional sense," he explained. "You were pulled out of the exam unexpectedly, but considering the circumstances, they’re willing to let you join the course to complete your qualification."

Kaia was stunned, processing the information. She hadn’t been expecting this at all. After everything that had happened, she hadn’t thought about the exam for days, let alone what this meant for her. But now that she was hearing it, something clicked inside her.

A chance to earn her Provisional License. A chance to make up for what she'd missed. The idea felt surreal, but in a good way.

"You’ll all be taking the course together," Mr. Aizawa said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "It will be intense, but it’s the best option for everyone who needs to make up the exam."

Katsuki gave a low grunt of acknowledgment, while Todoroki gave a small nod, looking more contemplative.

Kaia finally spoke up, her voice quieter now, processing what this meant. "I’m... I’m actually going to do it? Join the course?"

Mr. Aizawa’s expression was hard to read, but there was a hint of approval in his eyes. "You have the ability, Kaia. You just need to focus on your training and push through. Just like everyone else."

Her heart was racing a little faster now, adrenaline starting to kick in. She had been given a second chance—not just to pass the exam but to prove to herself what she was capable of. She looked at Katsuki and Shoto, both of them having their own challenges to face with this course, but Kaia knew she wasn’t alone in this.

"Alright," she said, a new sense of determination in her voice. "I’ll take the course."

Katsuki finally glanced at her, his usual scowl still in place, but there was something in his eyes—something softer, like a flicker of respect. "You better not slow us down, Kaia," he muttered.

She smiled, her heart feeling a little lighter. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

And just like that, the weight of the past few days seemed a little easier to carry, knowing that she had a plan and the support of her classmates, ready to face the next challenge together.

*****

The evening had settled in comfortably around Class 1A, the warm afterglow of a satisfying dinner still lingering in the air. The common room was buzzing with energy, as always. Some students were huddled around the TV, deep in a competitive video game match, their voices a chorus of cheers, groans, and trash talk. Others, like Mina and Sero, had wandered over to the dining area, where they were caught up in an animated debate about whether tomatoes were fruits or vegetables. Their arguments were passionate, and a few had even begun to pull up their phones to look up definitions, each side more convinced of their own position than the last.

Meanwhile, Kaia and Kirishima were stationed in the kitchen, tidying up after the meal. The clatter of plates and the sound of water running in the sink filled the space, a stark contrast to the louder chaos of their classmates.

Kirishima grinned at her, his usual exuberance still evident despite the relatively quiet task at hand. “Man, I can’t believe how good that meal was! You know, we should get together more often for stuff like this.”

Kaia chuckled softly as she scrubbed a pan. “Yeah, it was pretty great,” she agreed, rinsing off a plate and passing it to him to dry. “Maybe we can make it a weekly thing. We could all pitch in for the cooking and cleaning, you know, get better at working together as a team.”

“That’s a solid idea!” Kirishima’s voice was full of enthusiasm as he carefully dried the dish. “We’d make an awesome kitchen squad. Just like our hero squad!”

She smiled at the thought, although there was a small, lingering weight on her mind from the events of the past few days. The fact that she'd been granted the opportunity to join the Provisional License course, the lingering anxiety from her nightmare, and her growing uncertainty about everything—it all made her feel a little distant, like there was something between her and the others that hadn’t quite been shared. But Kirishima’s positive energy helped ground her.

"Do you think we’ll be ready for the course?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual as she focused on the task at hand.

Kirishima looked at her thoughtfully, the light from the overhead lamp catching his bright red hair. “You mean the one you all gonna take together?” He flashed a confident grin. “Absolutely! I know it’s gonna be tough, but you’ve got the best team to help each other out. You included, Kaia.”

She paused, handing him another plate. “Thanks, Kirishima. I guess it just feels a little surreal, you know? It’s been such a crazy time lately, and now we’re being thrown into even more training.”

“Hey, that’s nothing we can’t handle!” Kirishima’s voice was full of his trademark confidence. “We’re all gonna cheer you guys on, and if you need anything, we’ve got your back. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Kaia felt a warmth spread through her at his words, a reminder of the bond they had formed since their first days at U.A. She had come to value the friendships she had with her classmates more than she could say. "Yeah," she replied softly, "thanks."

As they finished the last few dishes, the sounds from the common room grew louder as the debate on tomatoes raged on. Sero had joined the conversation now, and the discussion had turned into a full-blown challenge of knowledge. Kaia couldn’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all, and she noticed that even with the weight of her responsibilities, her classmates—especially Kirishima—had a way of making things feel a little lighter.

As they wrapped up, Kaia turned toward him. “You know, you’re right. We’re a good team.”

Kirishima nodded with a grin. “You bet we are! Now, let’s go join the others before they start getting crazy about fruits and vegetables.”

She laughed again, following him out of the kitchen and back into the common room. The evening was still young, and for the first time in a while, Kaia felt like maybe everything was going to be okay.

Kaia’s steps slowed as she saw Katsuki walk up to Izuku, her childhood friends standing in a quiet corner of the common room. Kirishima’s voice faded away as Kaia gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, her tone casual, though her mind was already racing with curiosity.

The moment she was out of sight, she found a spot near the edge of the room, hidden enough to not be noticed by either of them, but close enough to catch snippets of their conversation. She leaned against the wall, trying to stay as still and quiet as possible, her mind absorbing every word they exchanged.

Katsuki’s voice was low, clipped, his words coming out sharp and urgent. “Meet me at Training Field Gamma tonight,” he said, his tone serious, almost like a command. “We need to talk. About your damn borrowed power.”

“Borrowed power?” Kaia’s brow furrowed in confusion. The phrase sent a ripple of unease through her. What did that mean? And why did Katsuki sound so... angry? Not the usual fiery rage he carried around with him, but something more restrained, like a simmering frustration that was on the edge of exploding.

Izuku’s response was quieter, a little hesitant. “Kacchan, I—”

“No,” Katsuki interrupted, his voice sharp. “We’re talking about this tonight. I’m not waiting any longer. You need to get your head straight, Deku.” The nickname wasn’t said with the usual teasing tone, but something heavier, like there was more to it than just their old rivalry.

Kaia watched as Katsuki’s expression hardened even further, his eyes narrowing as if the conversation was already over, before he turned on his heel and stormed off towards the hallway, his footsteps loud and angry, as always.

Kaia stood frozen, her mind racing. Borrowed power? She didn’t understand. Was this about the quirk? Had something happened she didn’t know about? Why was Katsuki so upset?

There was a sense of urgency in his words, and the look on his face... Kaia could tell this wasn’t just about the usual rivalry between them. Something deeper was at play, something that needed to be figured out before it spiraled even further.

Without thinking, Kaia pushed off the wall and started heading toward the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to find out what was going on. If something was wrong, something with Izuku or Katsuki, she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

She made her way to the stairs, already plotting what she needed to do. She knew she had to be careful. Katsuki wasn’t someone who easily opened up, and Izuku... well, he had a tendency to downplay things when it came to his own struggles. But there was no way she could just let this go.

As she neared the exit of the common room, Kaia’s mind raced. She didn’t have much time. If she was going to talk to them, to figure out what was really going on, she had to act fast.

*****

Kaia’s mind was racing as she fumbled for her phone, dialing Mr. Aizawa’s number, but for some reason, the call kept going straight to voicemail. Her anxiety spiked as she tried again, her thumb pressing against the screen, but still nothing. Where the hell is he?

A sudden realization hit her, and without wasting another second, Kaia ran out of the dorms, ignoring the curious looks from her classmates and the questions thrown her way. She had to act fast—this wasn’t something she could sit around and hope would work itself out.

Izuku and Katsuki—two people she cared about deeply—were headed to Training Field Gamma, and from the tone of their conversation, something was going down. Something big. Something dangerous.

Her thoughts raced as she bolted down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed help, someone who could get through to them. All Might. He’d know what to do.

Kaia took a sharp turn into the staff quarters, not bothering with a second thought. She pounded on the door of All Might’s quarters, each knock harder and more urgent than the last. “All Might!” she called, her voice louder than she intended, but desperation seeping through every word. “All Might, open up!”

The door opened almost immediately, revealing the skinny figure of All Might, his expression more tired than usual but instantly alert at the sight of Kaia. “Kaia? What’s wrong?”

“There’s no time!” Kaia’s voice was shaky with urgency. “Izuku and Katsuki are heading to Training Field Gamma right now. I heard them talking, and I know them—they’re bound to do something stupid! I need you to stop them!” Her words tumbled out, her panic creeping into her voice as she reached out, almost pleading.

All Might’s expression immediately shifted from confusion to concern, his eyes narrowing in understanding. “Field Gamma?” he muttered to himself. His gaze softened as he placed a hand on Kaia’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath. I’ll handle it. You did the right thing by coming to me.”

But Kaia wasn’t about to just stand around while her friends were about to make a huge mistake. “No. I have to go with you,” she said, her voice firm despite the shaking in her chest. “I know them, I don’t know what this is about, but I can help All Might. I can’t just sit back while they do something stupid.”

All Might hesitated for a moment, looking down at her with a hint of concern. But after a second, he gave her a slow nod, his expression softening. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Stay close, and make sure you’re ready. We don’t know what’s going to happen, and you’re right. You do know them better than anyone else.”

Kaia’s chest loosened a little at his words, but the urgency was still there. Without waiting for another word, she followed All Might as he stepped past her, his confident strides carrying them toward the exit. As they moved, she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had to get to them. She had to stop them before things spiraled out of control.

*****

Under the moonlit sky, the night was eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves in the wind. Training Field Gamma was the perfect place for a confrontation—isolated, open, and far from the prying eyes of their classmates. Katsuki Bakugo stood across from Izuku Midoriya, his usual fire in his eyes, but this time, it wasn’t just anger. There was something sharper—more calculated.

Izuku was tense, his body slightly stiff, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could sense the weight of the situation, the tension that hung thick between them. What is this about? His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of nervousness and curiosity, but also a sinking feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what Katsuki was planning, but he knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

Katsuki didn’t waste any time. He cut straight to the point, his voice harsh, each word biting with frustration. “I’ve figured it out, Deku.” His gaze never wavered from Izuku. “You think I’m too stupid to notice, but I saw it. I saw it when you used that power.” His eyes narrowed, a smirk forming on his lips, though it wasn’t one of amusement. It was cold. “I didn’t get it at first, but when I saw you using it, I knew. And that’s when it clicked.”

Izuku’s eyes widened as the realization hit him—Katsuki had figured it out. He was no fool, and all the subtle signs had finally come together for him. He knows. His mind raced, trying to figure out how to respond, but Katsuki’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Katsuki continued, his tone turning even more biting. “The way All Might’s been treating you. The way he looks at you. Like you’re something special. It’s because of this damn power, isn’t it?” He took a step forward, his eyes burning with frustration. “You’re hiding behind that damn smile, pretending like nothing’s wrong, but I see right through you, Midoriya.”

Izuku swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to explain, to say something that would ease the tension, but his words failed him. How do I tell him everything? How do I explain One For All, how do I explain… He clenched his fists tighter.

Katsuki’s gaze sharpened, and with a sudden shift in his posture, he moved even closer, his feet planted firmly in front of Izuku. “You’re not just some sidekick to All Might. You’re more than that. And I’m sick of it. Sick of you getting all this special treatment when I’ve been working my ass off for years. You haven’t even earned it. So you wanna be All Might’s successor? Fine. Show me you deserve it.”

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat as the anger in Katsuki’s voice intensified. The way his old friend—no, his rival—was looking at him, the intensity in his gaze, it was like nothing Izuku had seen before. He was challenging him, but not just in words. Katsuki wanted to fight. He wanted to prove something, and from the look in his eyes, it wasn’t just about Quirks or who deserved what—it was about something deeper, something more personal.

Katsuki’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding. “I’m challenging you to a fight, Izuku. Right here, right now. If you’re really worthy of that power, then show me. I’m done holding back. I want to see what you’ve got.”

Izuku’s chest tightened, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. This... this is different. He had fought Katsuki before, but never like this. This wasn’t just a fight for dominance or for bragging rights. This was Katsuki pushing him to the edge, demanding he prove himself, not just to him, but to himself as well.

But deep down, Izuku knew. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t fully understood One For All yet. He had barely scratched the surface of its power, and here was Katsuki, challenging him to push it to its limit. I don’t know if I can do this.

Still, there was no way out now. Katsuki wasn’t going to back down. And as much as Izuku wanted to avoid a fight, he knew he couldn’t ignore this challenge. Not from Katsuki.

With a deep breath, Izuku met Katsuki’s gaze. There was a quiet resolve behind his nervousness. “Fine,” he said, his voice steady but not without hesitation. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what I can do.”

*****

Kaia and All Might raced toward Field Gamma, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the night as they pushed their speed to the limit. Kaia’s mind was racing, too, her thoughts tangled in the urgency of the situation. What were they thinking? Why now? The tension between Katsuki and Izuku had been building for years, but she had never seen it this intense, never seen it ready to boil over into something this raw.

As they approached the training field, the flicker of moonlight illuminated the figures of the two boys standing face to face. Katsuki’s stance was aggressive, his usual scowl etched deeply on his face, while Izuku seemed more tense than ever, his shoulders stiff, his hands clenched at his sides. Kaia could feel the electricity in the air—their rivalry was about to reach a boiling point.

When All Might saw the scene unfold before him, his expression hardened.

But before All Might could take another step, Kaia was already there, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, holding him back with surprising strength. Her eyes were wide with understanding, and a strange calmness settled over her as she looked up at him.

“All Might, wait,” she said, her voice steady, though her chest felt tight with the weight of what was happening. “They need this.”

All Might’s eyes widened at her words, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Kaia, you can’t be serious. They’re about to—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her grip tightening slightly as she pulled him back. “This... this has been building for years. If they don’t get it out now, if they don’t face it head-on, it’s going to eat away at both of them.” Her voice softened, her gaze flicking to the two boys, still locked in a tense standoff. “They’ve both been carrying this weight. Katsuki’s frustration... Izuku’s guilt. Neither of them can move forward unless they face each other now.”

Kaia’s words hung in the air, and for a long moment, All Might just stared at her, as if weighing her thoughts against his own. He had always been protective, always trying to shield his students from the harshness of their emotions and conflicts. But Kaia was right. There was something different in the air tonight—a turning point. A fight between the two wasn’t just inevitable; it felt necessary, like a storm that had to pass before the skies could clear.

He nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility in his expression. “If they’re going to do this, then we’ll be here to make sure it doesn’t go too far.”

Kaia gave him a small, appreciative nod. “Exactly. They need to push their limits, but they need someone to pull them back before they cross the line.”

With that understanding, they both moved closer, staying at the edge of the field where they could see everything unfold but stay out of the way.

Katsuki’s voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. “Come on, Deku. If you want to prove you’re worthy of that damn power, show me. Or are you too scared?”

Izuku was visibly shaking, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes. “I’m not scared, Katsuki. I just... I just don’t want to hurt you.” His voice faltered, but his resolve was clear.

Kaia’s heart pounded as she watched the two of them, knowing that this fight would be a defining moment for both of them. They had to do this. She knew Katsuki, and she knew Izuku—they had to break through this barrier between them. And tonight was their chance.

“I’m here, I’m watching,” Kaia murmured to herself, standing silently beside All Might as they waited for what would come next. Let them fight. But let them find their way back to each other afterward.

The night air at Field Gamma hung heavy, the glow of the city distant and muted, the only real light coming from the sparks of Katsuki’s explosions and the crackle of Izuku’s One For All.

Their fight wasn’t flashy or showy — it was sharp-edged and raw, both of them pushing beyond exhaustion, driven not by pride or glory, but by something neither had the words for until now.

Katsuki landed hard, feet skidding across the cracked pavement, breath ragged. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white even beneath his gloves. He stared at Izuku, the anger on his face still there, but layered with something deeper — something breaking apart beneath the surface.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he started, voice rough, almost hoarse from the strain of both the fight and holding back. “You’ve always had people looking out for you. All Might. Kaia. Hell, even back then you had someone who cared.”

He let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp, shaking his head.

“But me? I thought I had to be strong enough to do everything on my own. That’s what I’ve always believed. That strength was all I had.”

Izuku stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide, not from the fight — but from the weight of Katsuki’s words. This wasn’t about winning anymore. This was Katsuki finally letting go of the silence he’d been carrying.

“When All Might was losing his power... I knew.” His voice cracked slightly, and Kaia, from her spot beside All Might, felt her heart clench. “I knew it was because of you. I figured it out. I knew you had his power. And it pissed me off. Not because you were chosen — but because I wasn’t strong enough to be chosen. I wasn’t strong enough to save him.”

He took a shaky step forward, lowering his fists slightly, though his eyes stayed locked on Izuku’s.

“I couldn’t save All Might. I couldn’t stop what happened that night. I couldn’t stop them from taking Kaia.”

Izuku’s breath hitched.

Katsuki’s voice lowered, his words quieter but cut through the night like a blade.

“I was there. I was right there — and I still couldn’t protect her. I promised myself I’d never let anyone take her, or hurt her, or get the jump on us, and I failed.”

Kaia felt her throat tighten, her hand covering her mouth, holding back the urge to run out and stop the fight. But she knew this wasn’t her moment to interrupt — not yet.

“I blamed myself for all of it,” Katsuki continued, the words tumbling out now, like a dam finally breaking. “Every time I saw her after... I couldn’t even look her in the eye without remembering that night. I’ve carried it around since. I thought if I just got stronger, if I could just be better — it’d make up for it. For all of it.”

The tension in his shoulders sagged for the first time, the anger draining away, replaced by something far more human.

“That’s why I couldn’t stand watching you grow stronger,” he admitted, finally. “I couldn’t handle the fact that you were getting ahead while I was still stuck — still the same idiot who couldn’t save anyone.”

Izuku, barely able to swallow around the lump in his throat, finally moved, lowering his arms.

“You weren’t alone, Kacchan,” he said quietly. “You never had to carry it by yourself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward — it was the kind that wrapped around old wounds, finally giving them air to breathe.

Kaia wiped at her eyes, barely able to hold herself still. She had never known just how deeply her kidnapping had scarred him too, how much weight he’d placed on his own shoulders.

All Might, standing beside her, rested a hand on her shoulder — a silent understanding passing between them. This was more than a rivalry. This was two boys untangling years of pride, pain, and guilt.

And as the fight slowly died down, Kaia knew this moment would stay with them all. Because this wasn’t just a fight for strength.

The clash of fists had finally come to an end.

The two boys lay on the cold, cracked pavement of Field Gamma, chests heaving, sweat clinging to their skin, the sharp smell of smoke still hanging heavy in the air. Izuku lay on his back, pinned down, Katsuki’s forearm pressed lightly but firmly against his collarbone — not out of anger, not anymore — just finality.

The fight was over.

Katsuki had won.

Neither of them spoke, the silence lingering between them like the dust in the air. Their rivalry, their frustrations, their guilt — all of it had spilled out under the night sky. And in the stillness, they both turned their heads toward the sound of soft footsteps.

All Might and Kaia stood there, illuminated by the soft streetlight glow at the edge of the training field.

It was Kaia’s expression that caught their attention first.

Her usually steady, guarded face was unmasked. There was no anger. No judgment. Just a quiet, heart-deep ache. Her eyes were glassy, her throat visibly tight, her arms hanging loosely at her sides like the weight of the moment had left her unsteady.

Katsuki’s stomach twisted.

She had heard everything.

The confession he hadn’t planned to make. The truth he had buried so deep, the guilt that had been eating away at him in silence. It was all out in the open now — and Kaia had been there for all of it.

He pushed off Izuku slowly, sitting back, his hands curling into fists on his knees, avoiding her gaze for the first time in a long while.

Izuku sat up beside him, wiping at the dirt on his cheek, his own chest still tight — but not from the fight. His green eyes flicked from Kaia to Katsuki, seeing the unspoken conversation already hanging heavy in the air.

All Might, for once, didn’t say a word. His gaze softened as he watched the three of them, understanding more than anyone that some lessons couldn’t be taught — only lived through.

Kaia finally stepped forward, the sound of her boots on the cracked pavement sharp in the quiet night. Her gaze moved between both of them, lingering on Katsuki just a second longer.

“I heard you,” she said softly, her voice steady but barely above a whisper. “All of it.”

For a moment, the only sound was the wind tugging at her hair.

Katsuki swallowed hard, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his own expression bare — stripped of the walls and bravado he always wore. He didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t brush it off like he usually would. He just nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

Kaia’s lips pressed together, as if she was holding back tears she wasn’t sure how to let fall. Her heart ached for both of them — for Katsuki’s guilt, for Izuku’s burden, and for her own part in it all.

But even through the ache, her voice was quiet and sure.

“You don’t have to carry that alone,” she said, locking eyes with Katsuki. “You never did.”

The words hung there, simple but heavy, and for once, Katsuki didn’t flinch away from them.

All Might finally stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on both boys’ shoulders — the weight of a teacher, a mentor, but more than that, someone who understood the unspoken battles they’d all been fighting.

“Sometimes strength isn’t about power,” he said quietly. “It’s about knowing when to let others share the weight.”

And for the first time that night, the three of them stood there — not as rivals or students — but as people still learning how to carry their scars.

And Kaia, standing beside them, knew that this wasn’t the end of anything.

All Might stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the cracked pavement, his eyes flickering between the three students — the two boys still catching their breath, and Kaia, standing firm but quiet. His expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability showing through the proud symbol of peace.

“Katsuki,” he began, his voice low but resolute. “You’ve been carrying this blame... for my retirement. But it was never your burden to bear.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up, his jaw clenching tight, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he didn’t interrupt. For once, he listened.

“All Might’s time was always limited,” he continued, his eyes momentarily distant, like he was watching the past unfold. “My battle with All for One was inevitable. My injury from that fight long ago — it was only a matter of time before I couldn’t keep going. You didn’t cause it. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

The words hit heavier than any blow Katsuki had thrown that night. His chest ached in a way no fight ever had.

“You’re not the reason I’m no longer the Symbol of Peace.” All Might stepped forward, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “That was my fate, long before any of you stepped into U.A.”

The weight in Bakugo’s chest didn’t lift completely, but the grip loosened slightly.

All Might turned then, glancing between Kaia and Katsuki. His voice dropped even more, becoming serious — laced with something deeper.

“There’s something you both deserve to know,” he said, standing straighter now. “About One For All.”

Izuku’s breath hitched, and Kaia’s eyes sharpened, sensing the shift in the air.

All Might’s gaze locked on the two of them.

“This Quirk… it isn’t like others. One For All was created for a purpose — to stop someone. The villain known as All for One.”

Both Katsuki and Kaia stiffened at the name.

All Might explained it all: the origin of the Quirk, how it was passed from one user to another, each bearer adding strength to it. How it was designed to be the one force capable of standing against All for One — and how he had chosen Izuku to carry that responsibility.

When the story finally settled into silence, Kaia blinked, her mind racing. A hundred questions fought to rise, but her heart steadied them. Izuku hadn’t told her nor Katsuki, until tonight. But this wasn’t about betrayal.

This was about trust.

Izuku bowed his head, the guilt twisting in his stomach. “I should’ve told you both. I wanted to… but I was scared. Of what it would change. I’m sorry.”

Kaia stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on Izuku’s shoulder. “I get it,” she said softly. “Some things... aren’t easy to say. But you don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

Katsuki folded his arms, still slightly tense, but his voice was lower, more grounded. “Yeah. I ain’t happy about it, but... I get it too.”

All Might’s chest swelled slightly with pride at the sight of them. Even after everything, the heart of Class 1-A — their will to stand together — hadn’t wavered.

“This secret must stay between us,” All Might said at last, his voice returning to that mentor’s firmness. “The world isn’t ready to know. Neither are your classmates. This knowledge puts a target on your backs.”

Kaia and Katsuki both nodded without hesitation.

“You can count on us,” Kaia promised.

“Damn right,” Katsuki muttered.

Izuku wiped at his face, the shame still lingering, but the weight on his chest finally eased.

For the first time in a long while, the three stood not as competitors or rivals — but as people bound by something deeper: trust, and the knowledge that the future of heroes rested on their shoulders, together.

All Might looked up at the night sky, his voice soft but full of hope.

“Good. Because the future’s going to need all three of you.”

All Might let the silence linger for a moment.

“You two... tonight proved something I’ve always known,” he said, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You both stand on the same path, but you’re missing the same thing: balance.”

Katsuki raised a brow, stiff but listening. Izuku looked down at his hands, unsure of where the words were heading.

All Might stepped forward, his tone growing more direct.

“Midoriya — you have an unshakable conviction to save others. You put their lives above your own every single time. But that drive to save... it often clouds your self-worth. You hesitate, you hold back. You don’t always believe you deserve to win.”

Izuku’s throat tightened, the words landing like truth carved in stone.

All Might shifted his gaze to Katsuki, who straightened slightly under the weight of his mentor’s words.

“And you, Bakugo — your desire to win, to rise above everyone else, is unmatched. You push yourself harder than most pros. But your focus on victory has blinded you to what heroism is at its core. Saving others. Protecting them, even if it means losing.”

Katsuki’s sharp glare wavered for just a moment, the words cutting deep and honest.

“You each lack what the other has,” All Might finished, his voice softer but resolute. “Midoriya, you must learn to fight for yourself with the same passion you fight for others. And Bakugo, you must understand... that power, no matter how great, means nothing if it isn’t used to protect.”

The words settled over them like a quiet rain, soaking deep.

“You don’t have to become each other,” he added, glancing at Kaia, who stood silently, absorbing every word. “But if either of you wants to truly become the heroes this world needs... you have to find the balance between the two.”

Izuku nodded slowly, the meaning taking root in his heart.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked toward Izuku, then Kaia, and finally back to All Might. His jaw tightened, but his voice came out lower, rough with emotion he didn’t quite know how to control.

“Tch. Yeah... I hear you.”

All Might stepped back, pride and worry mingling on his face. “Good. You’ve both grown — but your paths are far from over.”

Kaia’s voice finally broke the quiet, soft but clear. “And neither of you are walking them by yourselves.”

The boys glanced at her, the smallest flicker of understanding passing between the three of them.

All Might let out a deep, steady breath, as if the night air finally lifted from his chest.

“Now,” he said, the old teacher tone returning. “Let’s head back. We’ve got more to work on... and the world won’t wait.”

With that, the four of them began their quiet walk back toward the dorms, the tension between them not gone, but transformed — into something closer to respect. A first step toward becoming stronger, not just as heroes... but as people.

*****

When they finally reached Heights Alliance, the dorm building sat quiet under the dim glow of the security lights — except for one figure waiting at the entrance.

Mr. Aizawa stood outside, arms crossed, wrapped in his usual capture weapon but dressed in simple flannel pajama pants and a loose black hoodie. His half-lidded eyes fixed on the four of them, unimpressed but unsurprised.

“I figured you’d end up here,” he said dryly, eyes flicking between the three students and All Might. “You weren’t exactly subtle sneaking out.”

Katsuki and Izuku tensed, both clearly bracing for the inevitable.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa began flatly, “three days of suspension from class. You’re lucky it’s not more.”

Izuku bowed his head, guilt pressing down on him. “Yes, sensei.”

“And Bakugo,” Aizawa continued, his voice a little sharper, “four days. You started the fight, so you’re getting the extra day.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, but he didn’t argue. He knew he’d earned that.

Finally, his gaze shifted toward Kaia, softer but still serious.

“You — I’m giving you a warning. You didn’t fight, but you were there, and you should’ve contacted me the moment you knew.” His expression softened slightly. “I saw the calls. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up.”

Kaia nodded, her voice low but honest. “It’s okay, sensei. I just... I thought you should know.”

Aizawa let out a slow, tired breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Next time — don’t wait. I’ll answer, one way or another.”

All Might, who had been silent through the scolding, finally spoke. His voice was calm, reflective.

“They both needed this,” he said, looking toward Aizawa. “It wasn’t just a fight. It was something that’s been building for years. If they didn’t let it out now... it would’ve only festered.”

Aizawa gave him a long, unreadable look, then glanced back at the two boys.

“Doesn’t mean they get a free pass,” he said simply. “But I get it.”

The tension between the teachers eased slightly, and All Might turned to Katsuki and Izuku, his tone carrying quiet pride beneath the scolding.

“This fight was reckless — but it’s the start of something important. Rivals sharpen each other. If you both want to become the heroes you dream of, you’ll need to push and challenge each other, not out of hate... but to grow.”

Katsuki and Izuku glanced at one another, still sore but something different lingering between them now. Not quite friendship, but not just rivalry either.

Kaia stood a little taller beside them, her chest lightening with relief knowing at least the weight of that night had given them all a new place to start.

Aizawa sighed again, turning for the door. “Get inside. I expect better from all three of you.”

The three students shuffled toward the dorms, the night finally settling back into silence.

The common room was quiet when they stepped inside, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of the wall clock filling the silence. Everyone else had already gone to bed, the lights dimmed and the place feeling still — but the three of them stood there for a moment longer, the weight of the night lingering in the air.

Before they could split off to their rooms, Kaia turned on her heel, stopping them in their tracks. Without a word, she walked up to them — and with a sharp, familiar flick of her wrist, smacked both Katsuki and Izuku lightly on the backs of their heads.

Both boys flinched, turning toward her in mild shock.

“You two are idiots,” she said, her voice low but packed with emotion. “Reckless, stubborn idiots.”

Neither of them tried to argue. They could hear the crack in her voice — the fear that had driven her out of the dorms and to All Might’s door. She hadn’t just been angry. She’d been scared.

“You scared me, you know that?” Kaia added, crossing her arms but trying to steady her voice. “Pulling something like that without telling anyone... I should let Aizawa suspend both of you for the rest of the semester.”

For a moment, neither boy could meet her gaze. They both knew she had every right to be mad.

With a small sigh, she turned toward the elevator and started walking away, but paused halfway when she didn’t hear them moving.

Glancing over her shoulder, Kaia smirked — the same little lopsided grin she used to wear when they were kids sneaking out past curfew.

“Well?” she teased, her voice light but laced with affection. “Are you two coming, or what?”

Katsuki huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged after her, and Izuku followed a step behind, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

The three of them slipped into the elevator together, the quiet hum of the doors closing behind them.

The doors chimed softly as it reached the second floor, and Izuku gave them both a tired but genuine smile.

“Goodnight, Kaia. Goodnight, Kacchan,” he said quietly, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway.

Kaia gave him a small wave, watching the green-haired boy disappear around the corner. The doors slid shut again, and the elevator climbed the last stretch up to the fourth floor.

When it opened, both Kaia and Katsuki stepped out into the empty hallway, the silence wrapping around them like the late hour itself. Katsuki shifted, ready to turn toward the boys' wing — but before he could, Kaia reached out and gently grabbed his hand.

He blinked, glancing down at her. She didn’t say anything at first, just gave his hand a soft squeeze before tugging him along toward her side of the floor.

“Go get ready for bed,” she said, her voice calm but with a firmness that told him she wasn’t asking. “Then come to my room.”

There was no lecture, no scolding this time — just simple, quiet words that left no room for argument. Katsuki stared at her for a moment, the fight’s exhaustion still lingering in his bones, and then gave a faint nod.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low. “Alright.”

Kaia let go of his hand, turning into her room while Katsuki crossed to his, the hallway quiet once more as both doors clicked shut behind them.

*****

Kaia looked up from where she sat, legs crossed on the bed, her blanket bunched loosely around her waist. Her damp hair was still towel-dried from her quick shower, and the soft glow of her desk lamp was the only light in the room.

When the door clicked shut and the lock slid into place, she watched Katsuki cross the room and sink down onto the edge of her bed, the weight of the day pressing heavy on his shoulders. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand down his face, his usual sharpness dulled into quiet exhaustion.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Kaia shifted closer, her voice soft but steady.
"Long night, huh?"

Katsuki huffed out something close to a laugh — bitter, worn out, and tired all at once. "You could say that."

She studied him for a beat, the silence stretching comfortably now, not like before. "You meant what you said... didn't you? Back there."

His hands rested on his knees, eyes staring at the floor for a second before he tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah," he muttered. "All of it."

Kaia reached out, placing her hand over his, her thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Katsuki glanced at her, the usual fire in his eyes dim but not gone. He didn’t say anything back, but the way his fingers curled slightly around hers told her enough.

"Lay down," she said quietly, scooting over and lifting the blanket, quickly shutting the lamp off.

He hesitated, just for a second, before kicking off his shoes and pulling his hoodie over his head. Once settled beside her, the room settled too — quiet, warm, and safe. Kaia rested her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm glad you're both still here."

Katsuki’s answer was simple, but the most honest thing he’d said all night.

"Me too."

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, the quiet rhythm of their breathing filling the space. Kaia shifted slightly, her head still resting on his shoulder, but her mind was racing with everything that had happened. After all that had gone down, she couldn’t just let it sit there.

"You know," she began, her voice quieter now, like she was still trying to piece together her own thoughts, "I get why you’re angry. I get why you blame yourself."

Katsuki didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened, like he was holding onto something, but Kaia felt the tension in his body shift just a little. His fingers, which had been clenched at his side, relaxed slightly against hers.

"I just..." His voice cracked for a second, but he quickly cleared his throat. "I keep thinking if I hadn’t been so... so damn weak back then, everything would have turned out differently."

Kaia shook her head slightly, not enough to pull away, but enough that she hoped he could hear the soft determination in her words.

"That's not how it works, Katsuki. You can't go back and change it. You have to keep moving forward, even when you feel like you're stuck in the past."

He let out a low, frustrated growl. "It’s not that simple."

"I know it’s not." Her hand tightened around his just a little. "But it’s the only way. You can’t let the past hold you down."

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice barely audible. "But what if I fail again? What if I can't live up to what All Might and... and everyone else expects of me?"

"Then you fail," Kaia said, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "And then you try again."

She felt him tense slightly, and she could almost hear the skepticism in his mind. "That’s easy for you to say."

"Maybe." She paused, her tone becoming a little more thoughtful. "But... even when I feel like I’m on the edge, like I can’t keep going... I still have people who help me get back on track. Even if it’s you, even if it’s someone else, I don’t have to do it alone. None of us do."

Katsuki turned his head slightly, looking at her, his eyes searching for something. She wasn’t sure if it was an answer, or just reassurance that he wasn’t alone in the struggle. But there was something in his gaze that softened the usual sharpness, like a crack in his armour.

"You always know what to say," he muttered, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

Kaia gave a soft laugh, but it was gentle, easy. "I don’t always know what to say. I just say what I think you need to hear." She paused before adding quietly, "And... maybe I needed to hear it, too."

His eyes softened even further, and he exhaled through his nose, something close to a small sigh escaping him.

"You think we’ll be okay?" he asked, his voice still a little rough, but there was a vulnerability in it that made Kaia’s chest tighten slightly. "After... everything that happened with the League of Villains? With your dad?"

She nodded slowly, pressing her face deeper into his shoulder. "Yeah. I think we will be."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. But Kaia felt his presence beside her, steady and unwavering, like the connection between them had shifted into something deeper, something more solid.

"Thanks," Katsuki murmured after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head up slightly to meet his gaze.

He didn’t answer right away, but his fingers tightened just a bit around hers. His eyes flickered toward her lips, and for a moment, Kaia thought he might say something else. Instead, he let out a quiet, almost unnoticeable sigh, his head falling back against the pillow.

"For staying. For not giving up on me."

Kaia felt her heart skip a beat at his words. The way he said them, so raw and vulnerable, made something inside of her soften. She could feel the weight of everything that had happened between them — all the years, the tension, the unspoken words — and she knew, right then, that she couldn’t walk away from him. Not now. Not ever.

“I will never give up on you, Katsuki,” she whispered, her voice steady but full of conviction.

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The space between them felt charged, like something big was about to shift.

Katsuki didn’t break eye contact, his gaze intense, searching, like he was trying to find something — reassurance, maybe, or something he hadn’t fully realized he needed. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle he was having with himself. But it wasn’t anger or frustration this time. It was raw, vulnerable, and Kaia could feel the weight of it pressing down on her too.

And then, without warning, he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but it was full of something unspoken — all the years of friendship, the tension, the frustrations, the confessions. Everything seemed to pour into that one moment.

When they pulled away, neither of them said anything at first. It felt like there were no words left that could capture the depth of what had just happened.

Kaia’s breath was a little shaky, but her heart was calm, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be. With him.

Katsuki, on the other hand, seemed to be grappling with something. His face was flushed, and for once, the usual confident smirk wasn’t there. Instead, there was something softer, something more real, something he rarely let anyone see.

“You’re not… mad, are you?” he asked quietly, his voice low.

Kaia shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No, I’m not mad.” She reached up, gently brushing a strand of his hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to apologize for this. Not anymore.”

Katsuki exhaled, a weight visibly lifting off his shoulders. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just leaned back against the headboard, his arm around her shoulder, pulling her a little closer.

The air between them felt thick with unspoken words, as if the kiss had unlocked something that had been buried for years. Kaia’s mind was still racing, trying to make sense of the shift that had just occurred. She’d never imagined that a moment like this would come so suddenly — but here it was, with Katsuki sitting beside her, his presence more grounding than anything she could’ve imagined.

She watched him for a moment, his gaze still intense, yet softened by the quiet intimacy that had settled in the room. His usual arrogance, the fiery, untouchable Bakugo she’d known for so long, seemed to be absent, replaced by something more real, more raw.

She exhaled, unable to keep the small smile from tugging at her lips. He still hadn’t fully relaxed, his body tense and his hands fidgeting by his sides, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do now. Kaia shifted, turning to face him fully as she reached out to gently place a hand on his arm.

“You know,” she said softly, “you don’t have to be so on edge around me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Katsuki’s gaze flickered to her, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t answer immediately, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made Kaia’s chest tighten. She knew it wasn’t easy for him to open up, not even a little, and yet here he was, allowing her to see this part of him.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, looking away for a moment, but his hand found hers, his fingers brushing against hers in a way that felt almost tentative. He seemed to gather himself before continuing. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. You know? I’m used to keeping everything to myself. But…” His words trailed off for a moment, like he was searching for the right way to say what he meant. “But I’m not used to… needing anyone.”

Kaia’s heart gave a soft, sympathetic thump. She knew how that felt — the weight of being alone, of not relying on anyone, even when you desperately wanted to.

“Well,” she said gently, squeezing his hand, “I’m here. If you’ll let me be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, as though her words were settling in, grounding him in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be grounded before. He tilted his head slightly to look at her again, his eyes more vulnerable than she’d ever seen them.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I guess I’ve never really… let anyone in before.”

Kaia’s smile softened, and she reached up to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. The gesture was simple, but it seemed to speak volumes, like she was offering him the kind of support he’d never had before. “You don’t have to do it alone, Katsuki. You never have to do it alone.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of their breathing, and the faint rustling of the night outside the window. The stillness between them felt peaceful, almost like time had slowed, just for them.

Then, Katsuki shifted, his body moving closer, his face softening in a way Kaia wasn’t used to. She could see the turmoil still brewing within him, but there was a flicker of something else — trust, maybe, or the beginning of it.

Before she could say anything else, he leaned in again, his lips finding hers with a tenderness that was almost foreign, yet exactly what they both needed. The kiss was slow, more deliberate this time, like they were both savouring the moment, trying to figure out what it meant, and what it could mean going forward.

Kaia’s heart raced again, but this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear. It was something lighter, something filled with the promise of new beginnings. She kissed him back, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against the warmth of his skin.

When they pulled away, they stayed close, their foreheads resting against each other for a moment, breathing in sync. Kaia could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse, and it reassured her, in a way that nothing else could.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I don’t want to lose you, Katsuki. Not now.”

His grip on her tightened, as though he was holding onto something precious. “I’m not going anywhere, Kaia. I promise.”

For the first time in a long while, she believed him.

They stayed like that for a while, words no longer necessary. The quiet understanding between them spoke more than anything they could’ve said. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but Kaia knew that this — whatever it was — was worth the fight. And with Katsuki beside her, she felt like she could face whatever came next. Together.

Chapter Text

The ride over had been quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind — more like the calm after a storm. Kaia sat between Izuku and Katsuki, her hands resting in her lap, occasionally glancing out the window as the city gave way to quieter streets. Her heart fluttered with a mix of relief and nerves. Her father had been discharged from the hospital late last night, and today would be the first time the three of them visited him at home since everything had happened.

Mr. Aizawa’s car finally came to a stop in front of the familiar house. He threw the car into park, his tired eyes softening just a little as he looked back at them.

“I’ll be back around eight,” he said in his usual flat tone, but there was an undercurrent of something more — like he knew this visit wasn’t going to be easy. “If you need me, call.”

Kaia nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, Sensei.”

Izuku was already unbuckling his seatbelt, his brows knit with concern, but the determination in his expression was the same as always. Katsuki climbed out next, stretching a little before slinging his hands into his pockets. Kaia lingered for just a moment longer, catching Aizawa’s eye.

“Sorry again about last night,” she said softly.

Aizawa gave the faintest of nods, his lips twitching into the ghost of a knowing smile. “Just make sure you don’t make a habit of it.”

With that, he rolled the window back up and drove off, leaving the three of them standing at the front path of the Mikage house.

Kaia let out a slow breath and turned to face the boys. “Ready?”

Izuku offered her a soft, encouraging smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything, but the way his hand brushed against hers briefly as they started up the walk told her enough. He was here — and he wasn’t going anywhere.

As they stepped inside the house, the warm, familiar scent of home wrapped around her. The place was quiet, but not empty. In the living room, Zaire sat in his recliner, a thin blanket draped over his legs, a worn paperback resting on his chest. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, and for a moment, the stern face she knew so well softened, his eyes lighting up the second he saw her.

“Kaia,” he said, voice rough but full of quiet affection.

She smiled, walking forward and crouching down beside his chair, carefully taking his hand. “Hey, Dad.”

Izuku and Katsuki hovered near the doorway, unsure of whether to step forward until her father motioned to them with a small nod.

“Both of you,” he said, glancing between them. “Get over here. I owe you two a proper thank-you.”

The boys exchanged a glance before moving closer, standing just beside Kaia as her father’s gaze flicked over them.

“You’ve been watching out for my girl, haven’t you?” he said, voice gruff but sincere.

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “We do our best, sir.”

Katsuki, for once, didn’t snap or brush it off. His voice was lower, steady. “She’s strong. But we’ve got her back.”

Kaia felt her throat tighten, her fingers still wrapped around her father’s calloused hand. The room filled with something unspoken — understanding, gratitude, maybe even the beginning of healing.

Her father gave a slow, approving nod. “Good. That’s all I could ask for.”

Amara stepped into the living room, balancing a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a small glass of water, her expression instantly brightening at the sight of the three teens gathered around Zaire.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” she said warmly, walking over to set the tray down on the side table. She leaned in and gently nudged her husband’s shoulder. “I told you they’d be by first thing.”

Zaire gave her a small, tired smile, squeezing Kaia’s hand before letting go so she could sit upright.

Amara turned back to the trio, hands settling on her hips, her eyes scanning over them. “So,” she started, light and teasing, “what have you three been up to lately? Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long.

Kaia, Izuku, and Katsuki all exchanged quick, silent glances — the kind that spoke volumes. The tension from the previous night wasn’t something easily shaken, and each of them wrestled with whether or not to say anything. Kaia felt her throat tighten slightly, her mind flashing back to the fight at Field Gamma, to Katsuki’s raw confession, to the look on Izuku’s face, and the weight of the secret they’d all promised to carry.

Izuku shifted awkwardly, his hand brushing against the hem of his shirt, glancing to Kaia for some kind of silent cue. Katsuki, ever the least subtle, let out a sharp exhale through his nose and looked away toward the window, jaw tense but saying nothing.

Amara’s soft brown eyes flicked between them, her head tilting slightly, catching the shift in the room immediately. Her voice gentled.

“That kind of look only means one thing — something happened.”

Kaia finally let out a quiet breath, offering her mom a small, reassuring smile, even though her chest felt heavy. “We’ve just... had kind of a long night,” she said carefully. “But we’re okay. Really.”

Amara studied her daughter for a moment, sensing there was more to the story but deciding not to press — at least not here, not now.

“Well,” she said softly, brushing a hand over Kaia’s shoulder, “whatever it was, I’m just glad you three are safe. That’s what matters.”

Kaia nodded, grateful for the way her mother always knew when to push and when to let it be. The weight of the night still lingered, but for now, it was enough to just sit together, with the quiet comfort of family.

As Amara picked up the tray, she turned toward the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to glance back at Kaia.

“Sweetheart, come give me a hand for a second, will you?” Her tone was light, but there was that underlying mom voice that left no room for argument.

Kaia felt her stomach sink slightly. She knew that tone too well — this wasn’t about carrying dishes. This was about the talk.

She slowly got to her feet, her hand brushing against the side of her jeans, and shot a quick, pleading glance at her dad still resting on the couch. Zaire caught her eye, offering the faintest of sympathetic smiles and an almost playful shrug, as if to say You're on your own, kid.

Kaia sighed under her breath, squaring her shoulders like she was heading into battle, and trailed after her mom into the kitchen. The second the door swung closed behind them, Amara set the tray down on the counter and folded her arms, turning to face her daughter with that sharp, knowing expression only a mother could pull off.

“All right,” she began softly, but firmly. “Want to tell me what really happened last night?”

Kaia shifted on her feet, her fingers fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt, eyes flicking toward the floor. She thought about lying, or at least brushing it off again, but the way her mom was looking at her — gentle, but unshakably perceptive — left no room for that.

“It’s... complicated,” Kaia said finally, voice quiet. “But it wasn’t just me. Katsuki and Izuku too.”

Amara tilted her head slightly, her expression softening just a touch. “I figured as much. The three of you looked like a pack of guilty strays. Did someone get hurt?”

Kaia shook her head quickly. “Not like that. I mean — physically? They fought. But it wasn’t because of villains or school. It was... personal.”

Amara didn’t push right away. She reached for a dish towel, idly drying off a cup from the tray as she spoke. “Is this about what happened during the training camp?” she asked quietly.

Kaia’s chest tightened, but she nodded. “Some of it. And other stuff too. Katsuki — he’s been carrying a lot. More than I realized. Last night was the first time he actually said it out loud.”

Amara paused, setting the cup down, her gaze softening as she placed a hand lightly on Kaia’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me all the details, not if you’re not ready. But Kaia, I know you — you’re not the type to just sit back and watch. Whatever happened, I trust you handled it the best way you knew how.”

Kaia swallowed hard, the weight of her mom’s quiet faith settling in her chest, and nodded again. “I just... I didn’t want to worry you or Dad.”

Amara gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s my job to worry, baby. But thank you for trying.” She smiled softly, brushing a piece of Kaia’s hair behind her ear. “When you’re ready, you can tell me everything. No pressure.”

Kaia felt the tension ease just slightly and gave her mom a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

Kaia had just turned toward the door, ready to make her escape back to the living room, when her mom’s voice floated behind her — calm, but laced with unmistakable curiosity and that knowing, motherly sharpness.

“And what happened with you and Katsuki?” Amara asked, her tone light but clearly deliberate.

Kaia froze mid-step, shoulders stiffening for half a second before she slowly turned back around to face her mom. Her heart skipped a beat, the flush rising to her cheeks before she could stop it.

Her mom raised an eyebrow, arms loosely crossed now, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She hadn’t missed the way Kaia and Katsuki had acted around each other— subtle, but obvious enough to a mother who knew her daughter inside and out.

Kaia opened her mouth, searching for words, but her voice caught in her throat. She could lie, brush it off — but her mother’s expression said don’t even try.

So instead, Kaia exhaled softly, lowering her gaze for a moment before meeting her mom’s eyes again.

“…We talked,” she started quietly. “About a lot of things that needed to be said for a long time. And… I guess we figured out where we stand.”

Amara tilted her head slightly, waiting.

Kaia’s lips curved into the faintest, shy smile. “I like him, Mom. And… I think he likes me too.”

Amara’s knowing smirk deepened just slightly, though her voice stayed soft and warm. “I was wondering when the two of you would figure that out.”

Kaia blinked, caught off guard. “You— what?”

“Honey, I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you since you were kids. And the way you look at him, especially when you think no one’s paying attention.” Amara walked over and gently touched Kaia’s cheek. “Just be careful with your heart, okay? Katsuki’s a good kid, but both of you are still figuring yourselves out.”

Kaia nodded, her smile small but genuine. “I will, Mom.”

Amara let her hand fall away, her expression still warm. “Good. Now go on — I’m sure your father’s going to ask why I kept you hostage in the kitchen.”

Kaia gave a soft laugh, the tension in her chest finally easing, and headed back toward the living room, her heart feeling a little lighter, and her steps just a little bit quicker.

The moment Kaia's footsteps faded down the hallway, Amara reached for her phone with the quiet excitement only a mother could have. She opened the group chat titled "The Mom Squad 💖" — a chat shared between her, Inko, and Mitsuki — and quickly began typing, her fingers moving fast across the screen.

Amara:
Ladies… guess what.
Our kids finally figured it out.
Kaia and Katsuki. It’s happening. 😏💕

Not even a full minute passed before Mitsuki’s reply popped up, sharp and full of sass like always:

Mitsuki:
About damn time! I’ve been telling that stubborn brat he was blind for years. He probably finally pulled his head out of his ass. 😂

And almost immediately after, Inko chimed in, her message dripping with her usual gentle warmth:

Inko:
Oh my goodness!! Really?!
I’m so happy for them 🥹❤️ I always knew they had something special.

Amara leaned back against the kitchen counter, grinning as her phone vibrated again and again with their chatter.

Mitsuki:
So who cracked first?? Kaia or Katsuki? Spill the details. 👀

Amara:
Kaia didn’t outright say it, but you know I could tell.
The way she tried so hard not to smile when I asked.
I’ll bet money Katsuki made the first move.

Inko:
I hope they take care of each other. They’ve both been through so much. 🥹

Mitsuki:
If he hurts her, I’ll make sure he regrets it.
But... honestly? That boy’s been soft on her since they were kids. He’s probably more scared of her than anyone else. 😏

Amara laughed softly at that, typing one final message:

Amara:
They’ll be okay. I’ve got a feeling about this. 💕

She tucked her phone away, heart full, and shook her head with a fond smile — mothers always knew before anyone else.

*****

As the front door clicked shut behind the three, the soft rumble of Aizawa’s car fading down the street, Amara lingered for a moment in the quiet. The house felt calm — not heavy like it had in the days after the accident, but warm and alive, almost like it used to.

She turned, her eyes settling on Zaire, who was reclining comfortably on the couch, an empty soup bowl resting on the coffee table. His color looked better, and there was a lightness in his smile that had been missing. The sight tugged at her heart.

She crossed the room, lowering herself onto the armrest of his chair, hand resting gently on his shoulder.

“You know,” she murmured, glancing toward where the kids had just left, “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

Zaire tilted his head slightly, his eyes following the same path hers had. “Like what?”

Amara gave him a soft smile, her voice full of meaning. “At peace.”

Zaire exhaled through his nose, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah… I guess I am.” He paused, glancing at her. “It’s hard not to be, seeing Kaia like that. She’s still holding strong. And those two boys... they’ve got her back, same as always.”

Amara nodded, her fingers lightly squeezing his shoulder. “And she’s got theirs. That girl’s been carrying so much on her own shoulders... but I saw it today. She’s got her light back.” She chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with that same knowing look she’d worn earlier. “Maybe a certain blonde troublemaker had something to do with it.”

Zaire let out a quiet, amused grunt, shaking his head. “If it makes her smile like that... I’ve got no complaints.”

He shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket draped over his lap as he glanced toward the window, watching the streetlights flicker to life outside. His voice was calm but curious as he spoke up again.

“So... what happened between the boys?” he asked, his tone light but edged with that protective father’s concern. “Something was off with them. I could see it.”

Amara let out a soft hum, leaning back against the armrest, her fingers idly drumming against his shoulder. “Kaia mentioned it earlier,” she said, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “She told me they fought last night.”

Zaire raised a brow, unsurprised but still concerned. “Those two? Figures.” He shook his head slightly, exhaling through his nose. “They’ve always been stubborn... but it must’ve been serious if it had her looking like that this morning.”

Amara nodded thoughtfully, her expression softening. “It was. You know how those boys are — pride, pressure, guilt. Katsuki’s been carrying a lot, and so has Izuku. She didn’t give me the whole story, but it sounds like the fight wasn’t about hurting each other... more about clearing the air.” She glanced back toward the door. “Seems like they worked everything out. I’ve never seen them more in sync.”

Zaire let out a small chuckle, a deep, quiet sound in his chest. “Well... if anyone could knock some sense into those two, it’d be her.” His gaze drifted back to Amara, eyes soft. “And knowing Kaia, she probably did more healing than either of them realize.”

Amara smiled at that, her heart warm with pride for their daughter. “She’s her father’s child,” she teased, brushing her hand against his. “Strong, steady, stubborn as a rock.”

Zaire snorted. “Stubborn’s all you.”

They both shared a soft laugh, the tension of the last few weeks melting just a little more — and for the first time in a long time, the night felt easy.

*****

The days rolled by faster than anyone realized, the chill of autumn starting to bite the air as the students of Class 1-A were thrown headfirst into a whirlwind of training exercises, mock battles, and new challenges designed to sharpen their quirks and teamwork. The campus buzzed with energy, and for the first time in a long time, it felt... normal.

Zaire’s recovery had been nothing short of steady and impressive. Each day he grew stronger, now moving around the house with ease, no longer tethered to bed rest or the slow shuffle of early healing. Seeing him back on his feet — with his usual quiet strength and dry humour returning — kept Kaia's heart at ease, even during the long days at U.A.

In the meantime, the trio — Kaia, Katsuki, and Izuku — found themselves falling back into the easy rhythm of childhood, but with a new kind of maturity stitched between them. Katsuki and Izuku’s biting back-and-forth still sparked, but it was less sharp, less bitter. Their rivalry had grown into something respectful, something that drove both of them to be better. Training together, challenging each other, always pushing, always climbing.

And Kaia — she had been laser-focused on refining her metalbending, finally learning to blend it seamlessly with her earth techniques. Where her attacks once came in short, sharp bursts of stone or seismic tremors, metal now laced her movements, shaping shields on instinct and weaponizing the environment with steel-tipped precision. The control was no longer out of reach; it was hers. Every punch and kick, every focused breath, felt like she was building herself from the ground up.

And amid all that growth, her bond with Katsuki deepened too — steady and unspoken, but unmistakable. An innocent brush of hands during drills. The way his scowl softened ever so slightly when she was near. Knowing glances exchanged across classrooms and the common room. A fleeting kiss when the world wasn't watching, or the rare nights when the dorm lights dimmed, and they would linger just a little too long before heading to their rooms.

Of course, Class 1-A wasn’t blind.

It started with Kaminari catching them sitting a little too close on the common room couch, followed by Mina spotting Kaia’s easy smile when Katsuki leaned against the wall nearby during training breaks. Even Shoto raised a subtle brow one afternoon when he noticed how quickly Katsuki’s eyes flicked toward Kaia when someone mentioned her name.

The whispers were beginning. The curious glances. That quiet buzz of classmates slowly piecing it all together.

And neither of them seemed in any rush to confirm or deny it.

Because for once, everything was right where it was supposed to be.

*****

The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm orange streaks across the U.A. campus as the trio made their way back toward the dorms, sweat still clinging to their brows from the day’s training session. Their pace was relaxed, their bodies worn out but their spirits light.

Izuku walked a little ahead, hands resting on the back of his neck, glancing over his shoulder at the two trailing behind him. His expression was soft, a little sheepish but genuine.

"You know," he started, breaking the comfortable silence, "I had a hunch for a while now."

Kaia blinked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, while Katsuki stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, side-eyeing the green-haired boy with a warning glare.

Izuku let out a small laugh, unbothered. "I mean, I’m not exactly oblivious. The way you two act around each other lately... it wasn’t hard to notice. Honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner."

Kaia's cheeks flushed lightly, but there was no denying the soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Katsuki huffed under his breath, rolling his eyes but not bothering to correct him either.

Izuku slowed his pace so they were walking side by side again, glancing at them both, his voice quiet but honest. "It makes sense, though. Kacchan’s always had a soft spot for you Kaia. I guess it was bound to happen."

Kaia nudged Katsuki gently with her elbow, the tension in the air fading into something lighthearted. "Guess we weren’t as subtle as we thought, huh?"

"Tch. Damn nerd's always got his nose in everyone’s business," Katsuki muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that betrayed the usual sharpness in his tone.

Izuku just grinned wider, hands now slipping into his pockets as the dorms came into view. "Nah," he replied. "Just glad you two are happy."

Kaia felt her chest warm at his words, glancing between the two boys — the people who knew her best. The weight of everything they'd been through, everything they'd shared, sat comfortably between them now, without the need for any more explanations.

Kaia glanced between the two boys, the playful smirk already curling onto her lips as she nudged Izuku this time, breaking the moment’s calm with a teasing spark.

“Well, since we’re on the topic of people being obvious…” she trailed off, watching him with raised eyebrows, “…when are you finally gonna make your move on Ochaco?”

Izuku practically stumbled over his own feet, his face lighting up an instant shade of red so bright it could rival Kirishima’s hair. “W-What?! Kaia!” he sputtered, waving his hands wildly in front of him like that might shield him from the embarrassment.

Katsuki let out a short, sharp laugh — more genuine than mocking — watching Midoriya fall apart at the seams. “Hah. Pathetic,” he mumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

The dorm building conveniently came into view just as Izuku scrambled for a coherent defense, but failing miserably, he did the only thing his flustered brain could manage — he bolted.

“I-I’ve got homework to do! I’ll see you guys inside!” he called out, voice cracking halfway through as he practically sprinted toward the front door, disappearing inside before either of them could get another word in.

Kaia burst out into soft laughter, crossing her arms as she looked toward Katsuki, who was shaking his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Poor Deku,” she teased. “It’s too easy sometimes.”

Katsuki snorted, nudging her shoulder with his. “Yeah, well — he deserves it.”

The two stood there for a moment longer, letting the last bits of daylight fade before heading into the dorms — both feeling a little lighter than before.

As Kaia and Katsuki stepped off the elevator, the weight of the situation seemed to hit her all at once. Her seismic sense tingled with the unmistakable presence of six figures sitting in her room, and she could already guess who they were. The girls.

She let out a frustrated groan, already dreading what was about to come. "I swear," she muttered under her breath, "they're worse than the boys when it comes to gossip."

Katsuki, sensing her unease, gave her a smirk that was equal parts mischievous and reassuring. "I don't know, sounds like you got a lot to explain." He raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want me to stick around for this?"

Kaia sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Just make sure you say only good things about me at the funeral. I’ll need a solid eulogy after this."

Katsuki chuckled, his eyes softening. “I’ll make sure they know you were a pain in the ass, but a good one.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Don’t worry, you got this.”

With that, he gave her one last look before turning to leave, letting the door close softly behind him. Kaia took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable barrage of questions and teasing that awaited her.

As she entered her room, the six girls — Ochaco, Momo, Hagakure, Jirou, Mina, and Tsu — were sitting on her bed, their eyes trained on her like a pack of curious wolves. Their knowing smiles were enough to make her stomach twist.

"Well, well, well..." Momo started, her voice laced with playful curiosity. "Care to explain, Kaia?"

Kaia shot her a look, feigning innocence. "Explain what exactly?"

Jirou raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Don't play dumb with us. We saw you two on the way back. You've been acting different. And you can't keep that smile off your face."

Tsu, ever the calm one, tilted her head thoughtfully. "We saw him kiss you. That’s... new."

Kaia groaned internally but couldn’t stop the soft smile tugging at her lips. "It’s not a big deal," she muttered, sitting down on the chair by her desk and crossing her arms. "We’re just... figuring things out."

Mina’s grin widened, her excitement practically radiating off of her. "Oh, it’s a big deal now! You’re finally admitting it, huh?"

Ochaco was the first to jump in, her voice full of teasing warmth. “So... you’ve been hiding this from us for a while, huh? How long has this been going on?”

Kaia let out a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to figure out just how much to share. “It’s been... a little while. But it’s not like we’ve been keeping it secret on purpose.” She glanced down at her hands, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “It just kind of happened, you know?”

Asui nodded, her tone light. “That’s understandable. But are you both okay with... everything? No pressure, of course.”

The girls all leaned in, genuinely concerned, their teasing voices softened by a genuine curiosity about how she was feeling. Kaia could see that they weren't just interested in the drama of it all; they cared about her.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she said, glancing up at them, her smile a little more relaxed. “We’re still figuring it out. But... it feels right, you know?”

Momo smiled warmly at her, and Tsu gave a soft nod of approval. “If it feels right, then we’re happy for you.”

Kaia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You guys really know how to make a girl feel like she’s in a soap opera.”

“Well, that’s what friends are for,” Ochaco teased, giving her a playful wink.

As the conversation continued, Kaia couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Sure, they were relentless with their teasing, but they were her friends. And for the first time in a while, everything seemed to be falling into place, even if it was complicated.

As the girls settled in, the night wore on, and Kaia let herself relax, grateful for the support of her friends — and for the boy who had kissed her forehead earlier, giving her the confidence to face whatever came next.

*****

As the classroom buzzed with excitement after Mr. Aizawa’s announcement, Kaia sat quietly at her desk, her fingers gently drumming against her notebook. The chatter around her grew louder — everyone was already talking about potential agencies, which pros they hoped to work with, what kind of experience they were aiming for. But Kaia’s mind drifted elsewhere.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for her classmates — she was. This was a huge opportunity, one they’d all been hoping for. But still… it stung.

Mr. Aizawa had barely finished going over the details when Kaia felt a dull weight settle in her chest. Her father had offered her a work study spot at his agency not long after his release from the hospital. She remembered the way his eyes lit up when he told her — how eager he was to get back into the rhythm of things, even if he wasn’t going back into the field right away. He talked about teaching her how to analyze hero data, work with support gear, maybe even help develop strategy — things she’d never really gotten to do with him before.

It was the most animated she’d seen him since the accident.

But now…

With the remedial classes for her provisional license taking up her evenings and weekends, there just wasn’t time. Not for now.

She blinked back the disappointment, forcing her expression to stay neutral as Mr. Aizawa droned on at the front of the class. Katsuki shot her a glance from the front of the room — subtle, quick, but concerned. He could always tell when something was off.

Kaia gave him a small shake of her head. Later, her eyes seemed to say.

Izuku, sitting ahead of her, turned slightly in his seat, clearly wanting to share the news of the agency he had in mind — maybe even Nighteye — but paused when he noticed her expression. He didn’t say anything, but the worry was clear in his eyes too.

Kaia sat up straighter, trying to clear her head.

It was just a delay. Not a cancellation. Once she passed the licensing exam, she’d make it up to her dad — jump into the work study when she could, spend more time at the agency with him. It wasn’t like he was disappointed. He’d been understanding. Supportive.

Still, the timing sucked.

Aizawa dismissed them to prepare for their morning lessons, and as her classmates filed out in pairs and groups, Kaia stayed seated for a second longer, breathing in slowly. Her moment was brief — because just as she stood, she felt a hand gently graze her own.

Katsuki.

He didn’t say anything — not here, not now — but the warmth of his hand against hers gave her just enough strength to push through the day.

She’d get her moment. Just… not today.

Kaia wasn’t herself that day — and everyone could tell.

She hadn’t snapped at anyone, hadn’t rolled her eyes or thrown a sarcastic remark like Katsuki might on a rough day. But there was a heaviness to her movements, a fog behind her usually sharp eyes. Her energy was off. She was quiet at lunch, half-hearted in class, and by the time they got to hero training, it was like the weight of everything had finally settled on her shoulders.

The lesson that afternoon was another round of hand-to-hand combat. Aizawa watched them with that ever-neutral stare, arms crossed, analyzing form, technique, strategy. Today’s pairs were rotated quickly to keep the students on their toes.

When it was Kaia’s turn, she was paired with Sero.

He stepped onto the mat with an easy smile, arms loose and tape already prepped. “Ready when you are, Mikage.”

Kaia nodded, but it lacked its usual confidence. Her stance was solid, but her focus was elsewhere.

From the side, Katsuki watched with his jaw tight. Izuku looked on too, eyes flicking between Kaia and Aizawa — the latter of whom was starting to frown.

The match began.

Kaia trudged onto the training mat, shoulders tense and her expression unreadable. Her usual spark—the quiet confidence, the playful edge—was dulled today, buried beneath the weight of her thoughts. Sero stood across from her, stretching out his arms with an easygoing grin, but even he noticed something was off.

"You good, Kaia?" he asked, shifting into a ready stance.

Kaia gave a curt nod. "Yeah. Let’s go."

But as soon as Mr. Aizawa gave the signal, it became obvious she wasn’t.

Her footwork was off. Timing, slower than normal. She blocked late, countered with half the force she usually had, and even missed an opening that someone like her never missed. Sero, surprised, didn’t go easy on her—none of them ever did—but he made sure not to go too hard either.

From the sidelines, Aizawa's brows furrowed. He had his arms crossed, eyes narrowed not in judgment, but in concern that was growing with each misstep.

Kaia got caught in a sweep. She hit the mat with a thud, harder than necessary, frustration bubbling beneath her calm. She barely grunted when she hit the floor, but her jaw clenched tight.

“You’re not focused,” Aizawa called out, voice sharp but not cruel. “Get your head in the fight, Mikage.”

She sat up, brushing the sweat from her brow, not meeting his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

But she wasn’t in it—not fully. After finishing the round with a clumsy parry and being pinned again, Kaia pushed herself up and walked off the mat, tugging at her wraps with a little more aggression than usual. Her classmates exchanged looks—Mina, Jirou, even Tsuyu all watching her carefully as she moved past them.

Sero walked up behind her after grabbing a towel. “Hey,” he said gently, handing it over. “You sure everything’s alright? That didn’t feel like you.”

Kaia offered him a small, tired smile. “Thanks. Just… a lot on my mind today.”

Sero didn’t push. “You’ll bounce back. You always do.”

Meanwhile, Aizawa kept his eyes on her. He could see it clearly now—her body was in the gym, but her mind was somewhere else. And knowing Kaia… it wasn’t just about hero training. He made a mental note to talk to her after class.

Or better yet—let someone else she trusted get through first.

Aizawa’s gaze stayed on her for a beat longer, something unreadable in his eyes. He could tell something was bothering her — but he wasn’t the type to call her out publicly unless it was necessary. Still, his message was clear: pull it together.

She didn’t even realize how tight her fists were clenched until Katsuki walked over and dropped his towel on her head.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said bluntly, his voice quiet enough for her ears only. “You always suck when you’re in your head.”

Kaia peeked out from under the towel, her lips quirking just a bit despite herself. “Gee, thanks, coach.”

“I’m serious,” he muttered, arms crossed. “Fix your head. You wanna punch it out, we’ll do it later. Just not here.”

She gave a slow nod. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

The bad mood hadn’t disappeared, but hearing it from Katsuki — harsh, but not unkind — grounded her a little. Reminded her that she wasn’t alone in it.

She took a deep breath, the weight still there… but a little easier to carry.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of their free period, most of the class began to scatter—some grabbing water, others already debating where to go for snacks or how to spend the next two hours. The gym started to empty out slowly, leaving behind the smell of sweat, the echo of movement, and the lingering buzz of adrenaline.

Kirishima bent down, hands already gripping one of the training mats. “Hey, I got this—figured I’d clean up since we’re done for the day.”

But Kaia stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. “I got it.”

He paused, blinking at her. “You sure?”

Kaia nodded, not really making eye contact. “Yeah. I need to hit something anyway.”

Kirishima hesitated for a second, eyes flicking between her and Katsuki, who was still standing near the edge of the room, arms crossed and watching her. “Alright,” he said at last, patting her shoulder. “But, uh, don’t kill the mats, yeah?”

She managed the smallest smirk, then turned to Katsuki.

"You said I could punch it out later," she said, her voice low but steady, finally meeting his eyes.

Katsuki gave a grunt, already stepping forward and pulling off his gloves. “You ready now or what?”

Kaia took off her shoes and readjusted her wraps, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

They took their places, facing off on the freshly cleared mat. There wasn’t an audience this time—just two kids in a silent gym with too much emotion packed behind their punches. No quirks. No heroics. Just raw, real tension.

Kaia launched first, not holding back. Katsuki blocked, met her hits with calculated force, responding with short bursts of speed and controlled power. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Each jab, each dodge, each sharp exhale was a word unsaid, an emotion released. Anger. Frustration. Guilt. Fear. They weren’t fighting each other, not really—they were fighting everything that had built up over the last few days.

Kaia landed a hit to his side. Katsuki grunted and returned with a counter that grazed her ribs. She stumbled but reset immediately, sweat dripping from her brow.

Finally, after what felt like a full ten-minute storm, Kaia stepped back, panting. “Okay,” she breathed, lowering her fists. “I think I’m good.”

Katsuki stared at her a moment longer, chest rising and falling. “Next time, don’t wait so long to swing,” he muttered.

She gave him a look—equal parts exasperated and thankful. “Next time, don’t let me get that worked up.”

He huffed. “No promises.”

Then—without thinking—he reached out and tugged her into a rough, one-armed hug, their foreheads bumping gently together as they caught their breath.

“I got your back,” he murmured.

Kaia’s voice was quiet. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Kaia adjusted her hero uniform as she walked between Shoto and Katsuki, the three making their way down the corridor of the training facility. The air smelled faintly of sweat and rubber mats—old gym vibes—and the echo of Present Mic’s enthusiastic voice could still be heard in the distance, bouncing off the metal walls.

All Might led the group, more mentor than hero these days, but no less inspiring. Present Mic trailed behind, hands in his pockets, humming a beat Kaia couldn’t quite place.

As they rounded a corner near the main floor, a deeper voice—sharp, gravelly, and cold—cut through the air.

“All Might.”

Endeavor.

The three students came to a stop instinctively as the Number One Hero appeared ahead of them, flame beard flickering low but his eyes still intense as ever. His presence alone seemed to raise the temperature in the hallway.

All Might’s face shifted, polite but unreadable. “Endeavor.”

“We need to talk.”

Kaia exchanged a quick glance with Shoto, who simply stared straight ahead, his expression blank, controlled. Beside her, Katsuki’s jaw was tight, clearly biting back some sort of comment.

Endeavor turned to Kaia before he walked off with All Might, his tone much more civil as he said, “Tell your father I hope his recovery continues smoothly.”

Kaia blinked. For a moment, it almost sounded...genuine.

But then she remembered the man he was. The way he treated Shoto for years. The way he stood on a pedestal not because he inspired—but because he forced his way there.

Kaia gave him a curt nod, but as he turned away, she rolled her eyes with a muttered, “Right…”

Katsuki huffed out a short laugh next to her, and Shoto’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Not quite a smile, but enough to know he appreciated it.

As the group continued down the hall, they heard approaching voices—some familiar, some loud and overly dramatic.

“Woah, it’s them!”

“Look, it’s Mikage and Todoroki!”

“And Bakugo the Boom King…”

Standing just outside the main training room were three students from Shiketsu High—Camie, Inasa, and Seiji.

Camie leaned against the wall with her usual flirty smirk, giving Kaia a playful wink. “Long time no see, girlie~ You’re lookin’ fierce.”

Kaia raised an eyebrow, amused. “You too. Still doing the illusion thing?”

Camie twirled a strand of her hair. “Only for the ‘gram now.”

Inasa grinned widely, clapping both hands together with enough enthusiasm to rival a marching band. “YES!! It is so good to see you again, Todoroki!! And Mikage, AND Bakugo! I’ve been waiting for this day!”

Shoto nodded politely. “Hello, Yoarashi.”

Katsuki crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, “Too damn loud.”

Seiji gave a short bow. “I hope this experience is mutually beneficial,” he said, adjusting his glasses, then looked to Kaia. “And I hope your father’s health improves swiftly.”

Kaia blinked again—twice in one day? Was it “be weirdly polite to Kaia” day?

“…Thanks,” she said cautiously.

As the students continued down the hallway, the tension began to thicken like fog.

Seiji glanced at Katsuki, his posture rigid and overly composed. “Bakugo,” he said, adjusting his tie, “I hope you’ve matured since our last encounter. Your behavior during the provisional exam was… less than heroic.”

Katsuki’s jaw twitched. “Tch. And I hope you’ve stopped actin’ like a stuck-up scarecrow with a superiority complex.”

Shoto exhaled slowly through his nose. Kaia sighed under her breath.

“I simply expect a certain level of professionalism from those who seek to be heroes,” Seiji replied, his voice cool and direct. “Reckless explosions and vulgar behavior have no place in society’s protectors.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki stepped forward, hands in his pockets but his glare sharp. “Maybe if you got your head outta your ass you’d see that real heroes don’t get to sit on a high horse when the city’s crumbling around them.”

Seiji narrowed his eyes. “And perhaps if you applied some rationality instead of rage, you’d be more than just a walking fire hazard.”

Kaia placed a hand on Katsuki’s chest. “Breathe.” Then, with a glance at Seiji, “And you—do you wake up in the morning just itching to be annoying, or does it come naturally?”

Inasa burst out laughing.

From a side observation room just above the hall, two men stood silently behind a pane of reinforced glass: Gang Orca, arms crossed, silent and stoic, and Yokumiru Mera, hunched over a clipboard, chewing his pen nervously.

"Those two are gonna kill each other before we even starts," Mera mumbled.

Gang Orca didn’t move, but his eyes never left the screen. “Let them clash. If they’re still standing afterward, maybe they’ll learn something.”

Mera sighed. “Well, that’s assuming they survive this next exercise…”

As the heavy steel doors creaked open, the six students stepped into what they thought would be a battlefield. Instead, they were met with something far more chaotic: a swarm of loud, energetic elementary school kids running wild in a massive, colourfully decorated gymnasium-turned-playroom.

Balls flew through the air. Paper airplanes zipped by. One kid was hanging from a basketball hoop. Another was drawing on the wall in crayon. A third was making a fortress out of yoga mats and traffic cones.

Gang Orca's deep voice echoed from the overhead speakers:
"Today’s challenge is not about combat. It’s about connection. Your task—win the hearts of the Masegaki Elementary School students. Show them what it truly means to be a hero."

Kaia blinked in confusion. "Wait... this is our toughest challenge yet?"

Katsuki already looked like he wanted to blast a wall. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“I don’t think they are,” Shoto muttered, watching as a small child launched a dodgeball at Inasa’s head with surprisingly terrifying accuracy.

The microphone buzzed again as Komari Ikoma, the weary teacher standing off to the side with disheveled hair and a tired smile, addressed them.
"I'm so sorry in advance. They're... a handful. But I believe in you! Good luck!" She gave them two thumbs up—and then subtly backed away behind a padded wall.

One of the kids, a little boy with wild eyes and a fake cape, pointed directly at Bakugo.
“Hey! You! Spiky boom-head! You look like a villain!”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. “Say that again, you little—”

Kaia quickly shoved a hand over his mouth. “Nope. No. We are not getting roasted by 8-year-olds today.”

Inasa, already grinning, was trying to play tag with a group of kids who were way faster than expected.
“This is AWESOME! It's like a mini sports festival!”

Camie was using her illusions to entertain a small group, making animals and sparkles appear in the air, drawing some oohs and ahhs.

Shoto, meanwhile, was trying to explain the difference between dry ice and fire to a couple of curious boys, who kept asking him if he could freeze their snacks for fun.

Mera and Gang Orca continued watching from above.

“They’ve got three hours to make some kind of emotional progress with those kids,” Mera muttered, scribbling notes.

Gang Orca watched silently, arms folded.
"Let’s see if they understand. Power alone isn’t what makes a hero. It’s heart. Patience. Empathy."

Mera peered back down through the window.
“...Bakugo just got hit in the face with a plush alligator.”

Gang Orca nodded slowly.
“Good. Let him learn humility.”

And down below, the chaos had only just begun.

*****

The room, once filled with laughter and playful energy, had quickly descended into chaos. What had started as harmless fun had become a full-blown battlefield of mischievous children, making one thing very clear—this was no easy task.

The moment the trainees tried to make a move, the kids went into full-on chaos mode. Paper airplanes soared through the air like missiles, and one landed squarely on Kaia’s face. She peeled it off with a sigh, only to be met with high-pitched giggles.

"Hey! You’re not a hero, you’re a target!" one of the boys shouted gleefully, launching a stuffed animal at her head.

Katsuki's fists clenched at his sides, crackling with barely contained energy. He looked ready to blast the entire room—but Bakugo's sharp instincts held him back. He knew losing control now would be playing right into their hands. Still, his eye twitched as another child took aim.

“You look like a villain, with that face and those big, ugly explosions!” a kid jeered at him. He glared in response, jaw tight, but said nothing.

"Don’t just stand there, you spiky-head loser!" another added from across the room. "Come fight me if you're a hero!"

Seiji attempted to stay upbeat, letting out a nervous chuckle as one of the children tugged his scarf off and took off running with it like a cape. “Hey, uh, I kind of need that back, little buddy!”

Inasa spun around in a blur, using his wind tricks to try and impress the kids. “Look at this! Who wants to try spinning?”

The answer was a barrage of foam balls and shrill laughter. “Wind tricks? Boring!” a child yelled, launching another stuffed animal that smacked him square in the face.

“I told you, they’re impossible to win over,” Mera’s voice crackled over the speaker, clearly amused. “This is the challenge, kids—prove you’re more than just your powers.”

Camie tried next, crafting shimmering illusions of fireworks overhead. For a moment, the kids seemed enchanted, eyes wide with wonder—until one of them broke the spell with a scowl.

“Fake stuff! I want real heroes! Stop with the tricks!” he snapped.

Meanwhile, Kaia had crouched beside a kid stacking mats into a crooked tower. “Hey, that looks really cool. Can I help you build it?”

He scoffed without looking at her. “It’s my fort! You can’t just take it over!” Then he lobbed a foam block at her head and took off running.

Shoto, ever the patient one, created a perfectly smooth cube of ice. “Look,” he said, holding it out with a small smile. “It’s cool, right?”

The kids smacked it away. “That’s it? You’re not even cool!”

With every passing minute, frustration mounted. The children rejected every show of power, every attempt at friendliness. Nothing seemed to work.

From across the room, Kaia noticed Bakugo standing still, fists clenched, jaw locked. She moved toward him quietly.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose. “This is dumb. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. I don’t have time for this crap.”

Kaia placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s not about being flashy. It’s about showing them that we care—even when they’re being total gremlins.”

He grumbled but didn’t argue, which was as close to agreement as she could hope for.

Kaia scanned the room again, watching the others struggle. It wasn’t about tricks or Quirks. Maybe… maybe they were just looking for someone who didn’t give up on them.

She turned to the others. “We need to work together. This isn’t about showing off—it’s about proving we won’t quit. Let’s show them what it really means to be heroes.”

Bakugo huffed. “Tch. Fine. Let’s do this.”

“Right,” Shoto added, stepping up. “Together.”

Just then, Komari, who had been observing quietly from the sidelines, stepped forward. Her voice was calm, but carried weight. “Chatting with them won’t work. They’re not impressed by your Quirks. To them, powers are just more noise.”

Everyone stilled, listening.

“They’ve seen heroes showing off. Big explosions, flashy illusions. But they’ve never seen a hero who actually listens. Someone who takes them seriously.”

Bakugo scowled. “So what, we babysit? Talk about our feelings or some crap?”

Komari shook her head. “It’s not about coddling. It’s about proving you won’t walk away when it gets hard. You don’t earn their respect by being stronger. You earn it by staying.”

Inasa’s expression softened. “So… no Quirks?”

“Not unless it means something,” Komari said. “Meet them where they are. Show them you’re not just another hero who’s all flash and no heart.”

Kaia nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place. “We can do this. We just have to change how we approach them.”

The others exchanged glances—nervous, but understanding.

So, they shifted their tactics.

Kaia sat beside the boy from earlier, not towering over him this time, but simply being there. “Hey, your fort’s really cool,” she said gently. “Mind if I help?”

The boy glanced up, uncertain—but then handed her a foam block. “Fine,” he muttered.

Bakugo approached the group that had heckled him earlier. He didn’t speak. He just stood there.

“What, you just gonna stand there?” one of the kids challenged.

“Yeah. So what?” he replied flatly.

The kids blinked, confused by the lack of an outburst. One of them stepped closer, poking at his arm.

“You're weird,” the kid muttered, but there was no venom in his voice—just curiosity.

And that was the beginning.

One by one, the trainees stopped trying to impress and started trying to connect. They listened more. Sat down. Asked questions. Let the kids lead.

It was slow. Messy. But it was real.

And in that moment, for the first time since stepping into the room, it felt like they might actually have a chance.

Professor Ikoma clapped her hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the training field. The once-rowdy group of students now stood at attention, their eyes locked on her with a mixture of curiosity, pride, and anticipation. Their quick turnaround in behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it made her chest swell with both relief and excitement.

Present Mic, still standing nearby with his signature grin, gave her a casual salute. “Alright, Professor! Looks like the crowd’s warmed up—now it’s your show. Let’s see what your guidance can bring out of these future heroes!”

Ikoma nodded, her dark eyes gleaming behind her glasses. “Thank you, Mic-sensei,” she said with quiet intensity. Her gaze swept across the students, each one brimming with raw potential and energy. “You’ve all come far… but this is only the beginning.”

She stepped forward, her heels clicking with quiet authority. “What you’ve shown us today tells me you’re strong—but strength without control is just chaos. Power without purpose is wasted. My job now is to help you refine that power. Sharpen your instincts. Hone your resolve.”

The students leaned in, their excitement building.

“I won’t go easy on you,” she warned with a smirk that mirrored the fire in her tone. “But I will be fair. And if you give me everything you’ve got, I promise to turn you into the kind of heroes the world doesn’t just admire—but remembers.”

She paused, then added, “Starting today, I’m not just your professor. I’m your mirror. Everything you put in… I’ll reflect right back at you. So show me your best.”

The students erupted into cheers and determined nods, the tension replaced with focused excitement. Beside her, Present Mic gave a hearty laugh.

“YEAHHHH! That’s the spirit, Professor Ikoma! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

She chuckled softly, the weight of leadership sitting comfortably on her shoulders now.

“You heard him. Let’s begin.”

*****

As the sun dipped low and cast golden light across the training grounds, the end of the Provisional License Remedial Course brought with it a calm sense of accomplishment. The six students stood side by side, dirt-smudged, sweaty, and visibly tired from the long day of dealing with a horde of unruly children. But their expressions were thoughtful, and in some cases, changed.

Gang Orca stood with his arms crossed, towering as always, while Mera scribbled something onto his clipboard. The whale-headed hero gave them all a hard stare before speaking.

“Well,” Gang Orca began in his deep, rumbling voice, “you all survived. Barely.”

Mera pushed his glasses up and sighed. “Let’s not sugarcoat it… those kids were terrifying.”

That earned a few tired laughs.

Gang Orca's gaze swept over the six of them. “But more importantly—you didn’t just handle them. You reached them. That takes more than strength. That takes heart. So… tell me. What did you learn today?”

There was a short silence before Inasa stepped forward, saluting with a grin. “I learned that passion alone isn’t enough! You gotta understand people where they are. Those kids didn’t need a storm—they needed direction!”

Camie tilted her head thoughtfully, swirling her gum in her mouth. “Yeah, like… I totes thought being flashy and fun would win them over. But I learned it’s more about connecting, ya know? Being real with them.”

Seiji crossed his arms, face calm. “Children are not merely undisciplined—they’re impressionable. They mimic what they see. Today reminded me that we must embody the ideals of heroes, not just speak them.”

Todoroki looked up, quiet for a moment. “They challenged us… but I realized they didn’t do it out of cruelty. They were testing us. I think… I’ve been too focused on controlling my power, but not enough on how I relate to others. Especially younger ones.”

Bakugo scowled, hands jammed into his pockets. “Tch. I thought they were just brats at first. And they were. But… they were scared. Acting out. Kinda like I used to, I guess.” His voice dropped slightly. “I still think they need discipline—but not just strength. Respect too.”

Then all eyes turned to Kaia.

She stepped forward, her tone calm but filled with something deeper—almost protective. “They reminded me that kids act out when they feel ignored or powerless. But once we made them feel seen… everything changed. They were just waiting for someone to believe in them. To guide them, not fight them.”

Gang Orca gave a slow nod. “Good. All of you. This—this—is what it means to become a hero. To serve and inspire, not dominate. Never forget what you’ve learned here.”

Mera smiled faintly, jotting something on his clipboard. “With any luck, your licenses won’t just mean power… but maturity.”

Gang Orca turned away, signaling the end of the day. “Dismissed.”