The first day of U.A. High was a storm of emotions. Excitement. Anxiety. A whole cocktail of feelings that threatened to boil over as I made my way through the halls, trying to remember the directions to Class 1-A.

The building was massive, gleaming with high-tech designs that screamed elite hero training. It was a sharp contrast to the dingy streets and rundown training spots I was used to. My hands clutched the straps of my backpack tightly, my steps hesitant as I passed students chatting in groups.

Class 1-A, I thought. This is it. The start of everything.

When I finally reached the door, I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Don't be nervous, don't be nervous, I told myself, which, of course, only made me more nervous.

I pushed the door open.

The classroom was already bustling with energy. Students were scattered around, talking and laughing, their personalities on full display even before class began.

I quietly walked toward an empty seat near the middle, trying not to draw attention. But of course, the universe wasn't going to let me off that easily.

"Oi! Deku!"

My heart sank as I heard the familiar voice. I looked up, and there he was—Bakugo Katsuki, standing near the back of the room with his usual scowl.

Great. Just great.

I braced myself for the usual barrage of insults, but...something was different. His expression wasn't as hostile as I remembered. He looked annoyed, sure, but there was something else in his eyes—something almost...nervous?

He marched over to me, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The other students glanced our way, clearly curious about the confrontation.

"Bakugo," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

"Don't start with that weird polite crap," he snapped. Then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Look, I ain't gonna make this a big thing, okay? But I need to say something."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. What? Bakugo? Apologizing? Is this some kind of alternate universe?

He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me. "I know I was a damn idiot before. A huge one. I was a shitty person to you, and yeah, I know it's probably too late, but..."

He hesitated, the words seeming to catch in his throat.

"This is my last chance, Deku," he said finally. "To fix things. To fix me. And I ain't gonna let it slip through my fingers just 'cause I've been an asshole my whole life. I'm not giving up on being a hero, and if I gotta start by not being a total jerk to you, then so be it."

I stared at him, stunned. For once, I had no sarcastic comment, no witty comeback.

Bakugo is...apologizing?

It wasn't a perfect apology—not by a long shot—but it was something. And coming from him, that meant a lot.

"Okay," I said after a moment.

He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Okay? That's all you're gonna say?"

"What else do you want me to say?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks for deciding not to be a jerk anymore? Congrats on your self-awareness?"

He glared at me, but there was no real heat behind it. "Tch. Whatever." He turned and stomped back to his seat, muttering under his breath.

The room settled back into its usual buzz, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Well, that was...unexpected.

As I sat down, I couldn't help but glance over at Bakugo. He was hunched over his desk, not looking at anyone, but there was a strange sense of determination in his posture.

Maybe he really was trying to change.

Guess we'll see how long that lasts, I thought.

The rest of the morning was a blur of introductions and instructions. Our homeroom teacher, Aizawa, was as intimidating as I'd heard. He looked like he hadn't slept in a decade, but his sharp eyes and no-nonsense attitude made it clear he wasn't someone to mess with.

"Welcome to U.A.," he said, his voice dry. "You're here because you're supposed to be the best. Prove it. Or don't. I don't really care."

The tension in the room skyrocketed, and I could practically hear the collective gulp of the class.

Despite the nerves, I found myself getting caught up in the energy of the day. The students around me were all so different, so unique. There was a boy with red hair who was practically radiating positivity, a girl with floating earphone jacks dangling from her earlobes, and a guy with glasses who spoke like he was giving a speech at every opportunity.

These are my classmates now, I thought. My teammates. My competition.

The thought was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

By lunchtime, I'd managed to relax a little. I even struck up a conversation with some of the others, though I mostly just listened. It was easier that way—less chance of saying something awkward or embarrassing.

As I sat there, nibbling on my sandwich, I couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope.

Maybe this won't be so bad, I thought. Maybe this is the fresh start I've been looking for.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, I couldn't shake the weight of everything that had led me here. The secrets I was still keeping. The struggles I'd faced to get to this point.

I clenched my fists, determination flooding through me.

No matter what, I'm not going to waste this chance.