Mailin’s POV

The sun casts long shadows across the U.A. campus as we finish our training for the day. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles from pushing my quirk to its limits. Despite the exhaustion, there’s something about these moments of quiet after training that I love—when the noise fades, and I can breathe.

As I walk across the grounds toward the main building, I can’t help but think about the future. Hero work is something I’ve always admired, something I worked hard to be a part of, but deep down, I know it’s not everything I want. There’s more to it—more to me—than just fighting villains and chasing down criminals. My abilities were always meant for something different. Healing. Helping. And yet, I wonder how I can combine that with what’s expected of me as a hero.

There has to be a way to do both.

My thoughts are interrupted as I pass by the steps leading up to the main building. Shota, Shirakumo, and Yamada are sitting there, deep in conversation. They’re always together, the three of them. There’s something comforting about seeing them—like they’re a constant in this place that often feels so chaotic.

I slow my pace, my curiosity getting the better of me. They’re talking about hero work, their voices carrying in the quiet evening air.

“So, you think you’ll take the offer?” Shirakumo asks, grinning as he leans back against the steps.

“I don’t know,” Shota mutters, his tone unusually flat. “It’s just a work-study. Doesn’t mean much.”

“Doesn’t mean much?” Yamada echoes, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Dude, it’s Nemuri’s agency! That’s huge!”

Shota shrugs, his gaze distant. “I guess.”

I pause, just out of sight but close enough to hear. The way Shota talks—it’s like he’s detached from everything. Even now, when he has this incredible opportunity in front of him, he doesn’t seem excited. It’s as if something is weighing him down, pulling him away from the enthusiasm his friends have.

Shirakumo nudges him playfully. “Come on, Aizawa! You’re always so serious. This is a good thing. You’ll see.”

Shota doesn’t respond immediately, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he seems to retreat into himself. It’s a side of him I’ve noticed more and more lately—this quiet struggle he doesn’t let anyone see. But it’s there, just beneath the surface.

I can’t help but admire his strength, though. He’s always so composed, even when I can tell he’s not sure about things. But there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes me think... maybe he doesn’t have to bear it all alone.

The conversation continues, and I realize that as much as I’m drawn to his strength, I’m also starting to see his vulnerability. It’s a strange feeling, like I want to reach out, to let him know that it’s okay not to have all the answers. That it’s okay to need support.

But I don’t say anything. I just watch, my thoughts swirling around the question I’ve been asking myself all day—what do I want my future to be?

---

Shota’s POV

I sit on the steps, listening to Hizashi and Shirakumo go on about the work-study offer from Nemuri. They’re excited—of course they are. It’s a big deal, working with someone like Nemuri. For most people, it would be the chance of a lifetime. But for me? I don’t know. I can’t seem to summon the same excitement they have.

My mind is somewhere else, weighed down by questions I don’t have answers to.

“You should take it,” Shirakumo says, grinning at me like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “It’s a great opportunity, man. You’ll be able to really show off what you can do.”

“Maybe,” I reply, not meeting his gaze.

I know he means well, but there’s something that doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not just about showing off my abilities or proving myself. There’s something deeper—this feeling that I don’t quite belong in the hero world the way others do. My quirk... it’s useful, sure. But it doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t feel like enough.

The conversation moves on, but I’m barely listening. My thoughts are caught up in the doubt that’s been gnawing at me for months now. Ever since I got here, I’ve felt this growing sense of uncertainty, like I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not ready for. I’m not like Hizashi or Oboro—they’re excited, ready to dive headfirst into whatever challenge comes their way. But me? I’m... different.

I feel a presence nearby, and I glance over to see Mailin walking past. She’s always quiet, always calm. There’s something about her that’s... steady. Like no matter what’s happening around her, she stays grounded.

Our eyes meet for a brief second, and I’m surprised by the feeling that rushes over me. It’s not like the excitement I see in my friends. It’s something quieter, something that feels... comforting. I don’t know why, but her presence makes the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter, like I don’t have to carry everything on my own.

I wonder if she notices. If she sees the doubt I’ve been trying so hard to hide.

The conversation continues around me, but I find myself thinking about Mailin. About the way she moves through this world, always focused on healing, on helping others. It’s different from what most of us are trying to do, but maybe that’s what makes her stand out. She doesn’t need to be the loudest or the strongest to make an impact.

There’s something... reassuring about her. And even though we don’t talk much, I find that her quiet presence is starting to become something I look forward to. It’s strange—I’ve never really needed anyone before. But with her, it’s like she’s grounding me in a way I didn’t even realize I needed.

“Hey, Aizawa, you good?” Hizashi’s voice snaps me back to reality.

I nod, trying to shake off the weight of my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Shirakumo grins, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “You better be. We’re gonna kill it in this work-study. You, me, and Hizashi—unstoppable.”

I don’t respond, but a small part of me hopes he’s right.

As we head back to the dorms, I can’t stop thinking about Mailin. About how, even in her silence, she seems to understand. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone in this as I thought.