Chapter 60 - A Moment of Reflection

Shota Aizawa stood before his students outside the school building, the autumn breeze ruffling his disheveled hair and fluttering the collar of his hero costume. His eyes were sharp, unwavering, as he scanned his students, one by one. He could tell that the tension in the air was thick, that they knew something was coming. His voice broke the silence, gravelly but clear.

"We need to start preparing for the provisional hero licenses," Aizawa began, his tone firm and no-nonsense. "This is something you should've been working towards, something you should've been focusing on since the training camp. We are going to make sure that each one of you is ready to face what's coming."

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto his class, reading their expressions. But it wasn't until he turned to the specific group that had gone to rescue Katsuki Bakugo that his words grew sharper.

"That group," he continued, pointing to them, his voice suddenly colder, "the one that went to save Katsuki, they broke the rules. The rest of you should've done something, should've stopped them. You didn't. You let it happen. And I'm disappointed."

His eyes lingered on the faces of the students, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his disappointment. The others around you shifted uncomfortably. Aizawa didn't mince words, his authority cutting through the air like a blade. He could have expelled everyone from class for their actions, but he didn't, not everyone.

He sighed, rolling his neck as if to shake off the frustration. "If it weren't for the efforts of Toru, Kyoka, and Katsuki himself, the rest of you would've been expelled. But, that's not the case. Don't think you've gotten away with it, though."

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, and you felt the urge to speak up, the words bubbling in your throat. It had been an impulsive decision, but you couldn't help it. With a deep breath, you spoke up, your voice carrying the weight of regret and sincerity.

"Sorry about everything," you muttered, feeling a mix of guilt and the pressure of your actions. You had tried to help, but the consequences felt more serious than you anticipated.

Before you could say anything further, Aizawa cut you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes narrowing slightly. "L/N," he said, his tone not harsh, but direct. "You're not going to be expelled. Don't worry about that."

There was a brief, tense silence before you relaxed slightly, the tension in your chest easing. The weight of his words hung in the air, not because they were comforting, but because they came from a place of clarity, one where there was no room for argument. Aizawa had made his decision, and that was final.

Your classmates glanced at you, some still unsure of what to say, but in the end, all of you knew the road ahead would be a tough one. But no matter the consequences, you would have to keep moving forward. Aizawa had made it clear that there were lessons to be learned, and everyone had to earn their place in the world of heroes.

Aizawa's gaze softened ever so slightly as he spoke again, his tone still firm, but tinged with something close to understanding. "Get it together. All of you. We're not done. We start preparations for the license tests tomorrow. Don't make me regret this."

And with that, he turned to leave, his steps purposeful and unwavering, leaving the students to process his words.

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The girls were buzzing with excitement, eager to make their dorms stand out. The friendly competition had begun, and they had decided to raid Izuku's room to gather some inspiration. As they crowded into his space, you were struck by how alive his room felt. It was an explosion of color, filled with memorabilia that radiated energy and passion, each item a testament to Izuku's undying admiration for his idol, All Might.

Your eyes scanned the room in awe. The walls were plastered with framed posters, each one capturing a heroic moment from All Might's career. Action figures lined the shelves, many of them still in their original boxes. There were even small, intricately crafted dioramas depicting the hero's greatest battles. It was as if the room itself was a shrine to All Might, the former symbol of peace, and every piece had a story to tell.

"This is so cool," you said, your voice full of wonder. You moved deeper into the room, practically touching everything, captivated by the attention to detail. The energy in the room was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel like a small part of All Might's legacy lived on in every corner.

Your eyes drifted toward a little corner shelf near Izuku's desk. Nestled among the other collectibles, something caught your attention. It was a tiny, plush doll—small, soft, and adorable—of none other than yourself. You blinked in surprise, tilting your head as you took it in. The doll was designed with such care, from the shape of the wings to the tiny, familiar markings of your costume.

You gently reached out to pick it up, curiosity bubbling inside you. "Oh... What's this?" you murmured to yourself, your fingers brushing over the plush fabric. It was unexpected, and yet, somehow it made sense. Izuku had always been thoughtful, always had that spark of admiration for those close to him.

Just as you were about to inspect it further, you heard the unmistakable sound of feet shuffling. You turned to find Izuku standing frozen in the doorway, his face as red as a tomato. His eyes widened in panic, and before you could even react, he blurted out, "D-don't touch that!"

His voice cracked, betraying his embarrassment. Izuku's hands were raised as if to stop you, his cheeks a fiery shade of crimson, and his usual bravado had completely evaporated in the presence of his secret collection.

You blinked, surprised by his sudden reaction, but a mischievous grin formed on your lips. You glanced at the plush doll again, your playful curiosity now piqued. "This little guy... It's me?" you teased, lifting it in the air for everyone to see. "I didn't know I had my own doll in here."

Izuku's face deepened in shade, his body stiffening as he nervously scratched his head. "I—uh... I didn't mean for anyone to see that!" he stammered, stepping further into the room but still holding himself back as though worried you'd start poking fun at him.

You couldn't help but laugh at his expense, the sound light and teasing. "Izuku, it's cute! I didn't know I was important enough to have my own little plush." You gave him a playful wink, enjoying watching him struggle with his own embarrassment.

"W-Well, I, uh... thought it would be a good... I mean, it's just a little...uh..." Izuku trailed off, unable to form a coherent sentence under your teasing gaze. His usual self-assuredness had crumbled entirely, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears from blushing so hard.

The other girls who had followed you into the room watched the scene unfold with wide eyes and barely-contained giggles. They had always known Izuku was a big fan of All Might, but this was a whole new level of adorable. He'd never let them see his more personal side, and now that the truth was out, they couldn't help but find it endearing.

"I'm just... I mean, it's not a big deal or anything," Izuku muttered, now fiddling with his hands, unsure of what to do with himself. He looked like he was ready to disappear into the floor.

You, on the other hand, were absolutely enjoying this. "No worries, Izuku," you said with a smile, gently setting the plush back on the shelf. "I won't make fun of you. I think it's sweet."

Izuku's blush slowly began to fade as he let out a small, relieved sigh. "R-really?" he asked, looking at you with an uncertain but hopeful expression.

"Of course," you said, giving him a reassuring nod. "It's nice to see how much you care about All Might and... well, me, apparently. It's kinda cute."

His face, once bright red, softened into a shy but thankful smile. "Thanks, Y/N..." he mumbled, still embarrassed but now a little more at ease.

The other girls, now realizing the moment had passed, couldn't help but burst into laughter. "You're a softie, Izuku!" one of them teased, while another chimed in, "I didn't know you were such a collector!"

Izuku merely scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously, "I guess I just... keep a lot of things that are important to me. Maybe a little too many."

You smiled warmly, stepping back toward the group. "Well, let's not distract Izuku any longer. We have a dorm presentation contest to win, don't we?"

Izuku let out a sigh of relief, happy the focus had shifted away from his embarrassing secret. "Yeah! Right! Let's get to that!" he agreed, eager to move on and put the incident behind him.

As you and the girls began discussing the upcoming contest, Izuku watched you all, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have a few quirks of his own. And, well, maybe sharing them wasn't so scary after all.

Mina and Toru barged into Fumikage's room, their laughter and energy contrasting sharply with the dark and quiet atmosphere of his space. Fumikage, who was deep in thought, looked up with annoyance as the bright girls invaded his sanctuary. He had always preferred solitude, and this room reflected that—a small haven filled with dark, gothic decor, shadowy curtains, and the faint smell of incense that always lingered in the air.

You were with them, your wings slightly brushing the sides of the doorway as you followed Mina and Toru into the room. The moment you stepped inside, you felt the weight of the heavy atmosphere. The lights were dim, the walls adorned with posters of obscure heroes, and even the faint glow of a lava lamp added to the eerie feel. It was exactly what you'd expect from Fumikage, and yet it had a certain charm to it.

Fumikage's eyes narrowed as Mina, the ball of energy, rushed over to one of his shelves and began inspecting his collection of mysterious objects. Toru was already playfully fluttering around, using her intangibility to sneak up behind him and poke him from the other side.

"Uh, sorry Fumi!" Mina laughed, her voice filled with mischief as she grinned at him. "Your room is... unique."

Fumikage, trying to stay composed, sighed deeply. "Please don't call me that," he muttered, not enjoying the informal nickname at all. He preferred to keep things quiet, but his friends had a way of making everything more chaotic.

You stepped into the room with a smile, your eyes scanning the dark space with a new appreciation. "It's nice, Fumi. I like it," you said, your voice light as you gently ran your fingers over one of the dark, intricate decorations on the shelf. You paused for a moment, inspecting a small, intricate figurine—Fumikage's favorite character, perhaps.

Fumikage was taken aback. His usual stoic expression was replaced with a mild sense of surprise, though it quickly softened as you complimented his space. The nickname "Fumi" still lingered in the air, though.

"Fumi?!" Bakugo, who had entered the room behind you and the others, couldn't believe his ears. He scowled, irritated by the casual tone everyone seemed to take with Fumikage, who had always kept to himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

You couldn't hold back your laughter. The sight of Bakugo flustered, his usual scowl turning into one of pure disbelief, was too good. "Yeah, it's cute, isn't it?" you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face as you glanced at Bakugo.

Bakugo crossed his arms, clearly frustrated by the situation. "It's not cute. Stop calling him 'Fumi,' dammit!" He stomped his foot, and his face flushed with anger. But there was an odd mix of amusement in his expression too, as though he found it ridiculous that everyone was just so... comfortable with Fumikage.

Fumikage, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the playful banter. He shifted slightly, making his way over to his desk to get some space from the chaos.

You turned back to Fumikage, trying to make him feel more at ease. "Honestly, though, I think it's pretty cool. A bit dark, but it suits you."

He shot you a brief, appreciative look before turning his gaze back to the others. "Thanks," he said simply, though his voice was quiet and reserved as usual. Despite his gruff exterior, it was clear he appreciated your words.

Mina leaned in closer to Fumikage, peering at his desk curiously. "You have so many cool things in here. It's like walking into a dark museum," she said, clearly impressed.

"Yeah, well," Fumikage muttered, clearly growing tired of the constant attention. "I prefer to be alone."

But the others were persistent. Toru, the invisible ball of energy, zipped over to Fumikage's bed and playfully plopped down onto it, teasing him by bouncing up and down. "Come on, Fumikage. You gotta admit, this is pretty fun," she said in a sing-song voice.

Fumikage sighed again but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're all impossible."

Bakugo, meanwhile, was still grumbling from the doorway, his arms crossed and his face scrunched up. "I don't get it," he muttered under his breath, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You people are weird."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. The dynamic between all of you was so strange, yet so comforting. Fumikage, ever the loner, somehow found himself surrounded by his classmates. Even Bakugo, despite his gruff demeanor, seemed to tolerate the teasing.

"Alright, alright," you said, stepping toward the door. "Let's leave Fumikage to his dark thoughts." You flashed him a grin. "But I think your room's awesome. Just maybe clean up the piles of stuff next time, yeah?"

With that, you all filed out of the room, leaving Fumikage with a quiet sigh of relief. He was left alone in his comforting, shadowy space once again, but now with a strange warmth in his chest. Despite the teasing, he couldn't help but feel grateful for his friends.

"You guys are annoying," he muttered to himself, but the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.

It wasn't so bad to have a little light, even in the darkest of places.

To everyone's expectations, Yuga's room was the complete opposite of everyone else's—bright, flashy, and filled with gadgets, neon lights, and enough colorful decorations to blind you. The room looked like something out of a futuristic arcade, the floor practically glowing with every step you took. There were walls lined with posters of various heroes and a massive TV setup on one side where gaming consoles and tech were strewn all around. Everyone couldn't help but stand in awe for a moment, unsure whether to be impressed or overwhelmed.

The boys looked at each other, trying to mask their disappointment. Minoru's room, of course, was a no-go. None of them wanted to get involved with whatever "creative" mess he had going on. It was safe to say no one wanted to experience his "experiments" first-hand.

Mashirao and Tenya's rooms were next, and to the boys' relief, they were relatively normal—neat and tidy with a touch of personality here and there. Mashirao's room was cozy, with a few sports memorabilia and a surfboard hanging on the wall, while Tenya's had bookshelves filled with neatly stacked books, his study materials, and a few trophies from past competitions.

However, as the boys looked around at each other's rooms, there was a distinct sense of disappointment. They knew they had to raise the bar, especially after seeing Yuga's room.

Minoru, ever the opportunist, immediately pressured the girls to join in the room presentation contest. "Come on, girls! Don't leave us hanging! Come see my room! You'll love it, I swear!" The girls, of course, were not so eager to see what kind of disaster he had going on, but they politely avoided it, their attention shifting to the next room in line.

Eijiro's room was next. It was very "manly" as expected: filled with weights, workout gear, and various trophies from his athletic achievements. The walls were adorned with posters of professional athletes, and there was a certain ruggedness to everything in it. Even though it was a bit chaotic, the girls couldn't help but admire the effort and dedication he put into it.

After Eijiro, they walked into Mezo's room, which was surprisingly minimalistic. There wasn't much except a few well-kept pieces of furniture and some carefully chosen pieces of decor. It was clear that Mezo valued cleanliness and simplicity. Still, it felt oddly... empty, almost like a showroom for a minimalist lifestyle.

Finally, they reached Hanta's room, and the contrast was immediately noticeable. The room was beautifully decorated in an Asian-inspired style, with soft lighting, traditional wooden furniture, and hanging scrolls. There were intricate patterns and calming colors everywhere, making the space feel both serene and welcoming. "It's cute, I like it," you smiled, impressed by the calming ambiance. Hanta smirked at the compliment, cheeks flushing a bit. The others stood there, slightly jealous of how put-together and stylish his room was.

"You guys don't have to pretend you don't like it," Hanta teased, his smirk widening as he noticed how the others subtly ogled his room.

The girls giggled, unable to deny how well thought-out his space was. The boys tried to hide their jealousy, but there was no denying it—the atmosphere was way more inviting than their own rooms.

Next up was Shoto's room. As they entered, the girls were immediately surprised by how different it was compared to everyone else's. Shoto's room had a unique blend of contemporary design and a few touches that reflected his personal journey. There were soft blue tones, with sleek, modern furniture, but the true surprise was the flooring—it was completely different from the standard dorm floors everyone else had. Shoto explained, "I couldn't get comfortable with the regular flooring, so I had it replaced with something that suited me better. It's a little more cushioned."

The girls were all impressed, surprised that he had put so much thought into his living space. Shoto, normally so reserved, had clearly made his room his own, and the effort he put into making it comfortable showed. They appreciated it.

Finally, they visited Rikido's room. It wasn't as elaborate or creative as the others, but there was one thing that immediately caught their attention: sweets. Rikido had a massive assortment of delicious-looking pastries and desserts on a table in the corner. The girls eagerly dug in, savoring the variety of sweet treats. Rikido smiled sheepishly, clearly pleased that they liked his offerings, and everyone enjoyed the food while admiring the comfort of his laid-back, easygoing room.

After the tour of the boys' rooms, Fumikage turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Shall we move on to yours, then, L/N?" he asked, his tone playful.

You chuckled and shrugged, deciding to show them your own room. "Might as well." You led the group down the hallway to your door.

The moment they stepped inside, your room was a stark contrast to all the others—simple and functional, but with a touch of your own personal style. You had a few favorite posters hanging on the walls, and the room was kept tidy but not overdone. Your bed was simple, and the lighting was warm and inviting.

"It's not much," you said with a modest shrug. "But it works for me."

Everyone looked around, clearly surprised. It wasn't as over-the-top as some of the other rooms, but there was a warmth to it. It felt like you. You smiled a little, content with your small space. Sometimes simplicity was the best choice.

"Simple but cozy," Toru said with a smile. "I like it."

"Yeah, it has its charm," Mina agreed.

And just like that, the room tour ended, and everyone could appreciate the different tastes and personalities that each room reflected. It was clear that each of you had your own unique space, just as you had your own unique ways of navigating the world.

The girls excitedly moved on to the next rooms, each more unique than the last. Toru and Mina's rooms, as expected, were very girly, filled with pastel colors, plush toys, and frilly decorations. The vibrant, bubbly energy of their rooms reflected their personalities perfectly. The walls were adorned with various pink and sparkly accents, creating a cheerful and playful atmosphere. The girls found it hard not to smile as they admired the cute touches, from the heart-shaped pillows to the rainbow curtains.

Then they skipped Tsuyu's room since she wasn't feeling well, which meant they had to head straight to Momo's room. It was definitely a bit of a shock. Her room was cramped, packed with large, elegant furniture that looked like it belonged in a mansion. Momo had inherited some pieces from her family, and it was evident that the high-end, luxury decor had little space to move around in. The girls couldn't help but laugh a bit at how crowded the room felt—there was barely enough space to walk, but the elegance of the furniture definitely made it stand out.

After seeing all of the boys' rooms and the girls' rooms, the class voted on who they thought had the best room. It wasn't really much of a contest when it came to Rikido's room. The girls had fallen in love with his sweets, and they all voted for him in the end, much to Rikido's surprise. He hadn't expected it at all, but the girls' approval of his homemade desserts had clearly won them over. Denki and Minoru, on the other hand, were not pleased. They had hoped for their rooms to stand out more, but neither of them had a chance to compete with the others' creativity and charm.

Shoto, who had been standing off to the side, seemed to try to leave as the vote wrapped up. But then, he stopped by your side, looking at you with something like quiet appreciation.

"I really liked your room," he said softly, his voice almost shy as he met your eyes.

You smiled warmly at him, glad he had taken the time to appreciate it. "Thanks, Shoto. I'm glad you liked it."

As he stood there, his eyes lingered on a picture hanging on your wall. It was a large painting of a big, rusty brown dragon, with shimmering scales and a fierce expression. The dragon was painted in great detail, as if it had come from a storybook of legends. Shoto tilted his head, intrigued by it.

"Who was that big dragon? Was it your father?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

You shook your head and smiled softly, remembering the old tale behind the image. "No, it wasn't my father," you said. "It was Smaug, an old friend of mine... turned rival."

Shoto's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected you to have such a backstory behind it, and there was a quiet understanding in his gaze as he processed what you had said. A rival, you said. That dragon must have been a formidable presence in your life.

"That's... really cool," Shoto murmured, a hint of admiration in his tone.

You smiled again, feeling a warmth in your chest. It was nice, having a quiet moment with Shoto, even though it was brief. The image of Smaug, the powerful and wise dragon, seemed to speak to the strength and depth of the relationship you once had—something that had shaped you, just as your friends were beginning to shape the path you were walking now.

The room was filled with light chatter and laughter as everyone wrapped up the contest, but for a moment, it felt like time had slowed down, and it was just you and Shoto standing there in the quiet.

"Thanks for noticing," you added with a small, grateful smile, feeling the weight of the shared understanding between you. "Smaug taught me a lot. He's part of why I'm here, after all."

Shoto nodded, a quiet sense of respect in his eyes as he met your gaze. The world around you seemed to momentarily fade, and in that shared moment, there was nothing but the comfort of knowing that your paths were still intertwined—just as the dragon and your past had been part of who you were now.