"What the hell happened here?" The way his voice tremored was muffled by the destruction that was before them.

"We still haven't identified the cause of the catastrophe." An officer approached Aizawa along with an old retired hero following suit.

"What?" Aizawa, eyes narrowed as he tried to pin the identity of the older hero beside the officer.

"The only reasonable explanation would be a villain attack—but this area is known to be relatively peaceful. All Might does an incredible job at keeping this area safe." His eyes met his through his yellow goggles, "Along with you as well, Eraserhead." He stammered and Shota waved his hand, dismissing his unnecessary praise.

"A-Anyways—there was only one survivor."

Aizawa stiffened. "Why the hell didn't you lead with that?"

The officer shook his head apologetically. "It's a little girl. She's quite young, couldn't be older than two."

He blinked, hard. "What?-Where is she?"

He jerked his finger backwards. "One of the heroes has her."

The fallen leaves and bit of debris crunched under the soles of his boots, running in the direction of the little girl and ignoring the shouts of the officer and retired hero.

Aizawa was drawn to this case, to this girl.

After pushing past a swarm of pros, he found her snuggled up against the chest of one of the heroes, sound asleep.

"Let me have her." Aizawa snapped.

"Excuse me?" She retorted, not recognizing the hero who stuck to the shadows.

Aizawa pried the child of the hero's arms, ignoring her shouts of protest.

The child jolted, startled awake by the woman's shouts and the abrupt movement. She pulled herself up in his arms and silently rubbed her little eyes.

She was the youngest catastrophe victim he had ever seen.

"Mama?" She drawled slowly, looking around confused.

Aizawa held the small girl close. "I've got you." He whispered, and the beat of his heart quickened as the terrified child clung to him, the light dimming in those bright eyes, crying into his chest.

**

"I'm in way over my head."

"You know why I can't take her, Shota."

"Sir, with all do respect, I only met you a few weeks ago, so no, I'm not entirely clear why you can't take her. You're much older than I am and much more equipped to take care of a child." His foot stomped against the floor, like he was a child himself proving his point.

The deep red chair in the corner of his apartment creaked as Gran Torino stood and walked over to the girl. Her little snores filled the temporary silence of the room, a look of peace flittered across her features.

It had been a few weeks since the retired hero had come to see her. After finding out the truth of her identity and the family she came from, he was quite alarmed.

"I have obligations that are far greater than one sole child. If he ever found out-"

"I'm getting real tired of everything revolving around him and his needs." Aizawa let out a grunt, crossing his arms and donning his typical scowl.

"You were the one who turned down sending her into the system."

Aizawa's head snapped towards the man. "Of course not! She has no other living relatives and the system needs complete reshaping—but that doesn't mean I'm fit to be a father."

"Have you signed the papers?"

"They're on the counter."

"Unopened?"

Aizawa grimaced. "I don't think I can do this."

The old hero's boots squeaked against the tile floors of the small kitchen. He found the stack of papers and shuffled through them until he found the manilla folder with the girls name plastered in bold print. He returned to the living room with the folder and pen in tow, placing it in Aizawa's lap.

"Take it, sign it. Buy a house too while you're at it. Give the girl a place to grow up."

Aizawa's sucked in a sharp breath. "Should I—change it?" His eyes met his warily.

Gran Torino shrugged. "If you think it will do her good."

Aizawa's eyes trailed towards the couch where he found her sleeping form. He knew what he had to do, no matter how much it terrified him.

**
You heard the story of how you acquired your last name dozens of times.

You adored hearing it from your father and your mentor throughout your younger years, to the point where he was disappointed when you stopped asking. The story had been engraved into your brain—you could recite it for them, if they really wanted you to.

"You truly remember, nothing?" Your father had asked you constantly when you were younger. He knew it was pointless to even have the slightest inkling that you knew the cause of your parents death—but he still hoped.

Each time you would simply shrug. "I only remember you and Gramps."

You spent your entire childhood training for one thing, to become a hero. Your father would tell you it was nothing special, a dream that most children of your generation had.

But you believed you were different.

You always strived to fulfill this dream—searching to make someone proud, and to spite someone else along the way.

Every time you searched deep through your memory for that answer, you never could find it.

You would curse yourself for not being a genius or having a miraculous memory. One so great that you would be able to remember every waking moment as a child.

You wished you had a memory quirk so maybe, just maybe you could look into your past and find what you and your father were searching for.

What a quirk that would be.

So much was left unanswered—it was debilitating at times, for all of you. It was painful to watch the days where your father still poured over the case file, desperate to find answers for you even though they dismissed the case years ago.

To make your father proud and achieve your dream, you spent your whole life training for the day of the U.A. entrance exam. After your father adopted you, he quit pro-hero work and decided to become a teacher at the school.

When it was finally time for you to enter high school, he let you do it all on your own—refusing to give you any recommendation to help you get into the hero academy.

He enjoyed fueling your spite, but you ended up preferring knowing you got in on your own merits, which you did.

You excelled—like always.

Your father hadn't been lying when he said the door was gigantic.

Shoes scuffed against the floors as all of the prospective new students looked around for their first year class. When you found yours, you noticed a boy chattering incoherently to himself with his fists clenched tightly to his sides.

He almost looked like he was trembling.

"Um." You mumbled, sort of announcing your presence.

The boy shot around and looked at you with wide eyes. "Sorry! I'm blocking your way." He bowed three times quickly before jumping to the side.

You moved to open the door, but stopped, turning your head to look him in the eyes. "You know, staring at the door won't make it any smaller, or less intimidating." You said, shrugging your shoulder—the one that didn't hold the weight of your book bag.

The boy chewed on his lip. "I know—it's more so the people inside I'm nervous about."

You almost rolled your eyes at him. He would have to grow some confidence if he wanted to stay in the course. "Come on. I'll walk in with you." You nodded your head in the direction of the door and dragged the boy in by his wrist before he could protest.

He stiffened the moment he entered the door and stood scarily still beside you. Looking him over, you noticed that the boy wasn't all that tall—but certainly lather than you, something you'd grumble about later. He was overall pretty plan looking, though he had some interesting green hair.

"Well at least my fears were warranted." He muttered, pausing your analysis.

"Why?" You asked with a laugh.

You followed his eye line and found the boy he was staring so intently at. He was completely disheveled, from his spiky blonde hair, to his baggy-ass clothes full of wrinkles.

A laugh spilled from your lips, followed by a snort. It was hard to believe anyone would be intimidated of something who came ro a prestigious school looking like that.

Your father wouldn't approve of him, even if he dressed just as lazily.

"You're scared of that guy?" You asked in disbelief.

"Walk a little closer, you'll understand." He muttered.

You mockingly took four steps forward, just to hear the disheveled boy spouting off curse words and threats.

"Ah—so you're the guy who thinks he's better than everyone else!" You called from across the classroom, sending the boy still standing near the door into a flurry of nervousness. "I'm glad we got that roll assigned early!" You winked.

You walked closer to him and you noticed he sat up straighter, almost as if he was ready to jump into a fight at any second.

"Eh? You got a fucking problem eye bags? Come any closer and I'll blast you to hell." He bit.

You pointed blandly at the desk behind him. "I have no desire to come any closer, but unfortunately for the both of us my assigned seat is behind you." You scooted past him, making a show of trying not to touch him, taking a seat and slumping down onto your desk.

Eyes closed immediately.

"So lazy." A few onlookers muttered.

The door slammed open and your father appeared, immediately spouting off the nonsense you came prepared for.

Having your father as your homeroom teacher had its perks—you knew who was going to be in your class before you ever entered. You also knew what to expect from your first day—even if you had to beg the information out of the old man.

Before you knew it you and the rest of your class were outside in your gym uniforms, watching 'Bakugou' use his quirk to throw a baseball.

"Wow, he can really throw." A girl whispered dreamily.

Your eyes flickered over to her. She was kind of tall with beautiful pink skin and adorable horns on top of her head. "I guess." You muttered in return.

"Do you know him? You two seemed all close and personal earlier." She grinned and you rolled your eyes, subconsciously enjoying her teasing.

"Nah. I don't fuck with guys like him." You grinned sleepily, holding up a peace sign. You found it a little odd that she thought you were close and personal with the boy, he seemed like a jackass so you just wanted him to know you wouldn't put up with that.

The two of you continued chatting, and your new friend Mina cheered loudly about how fun these exercises seemed. You shook your head, knowing exactly where this was going.

"You think this is fun? Is this a game to you?" You gulped as your father began scolding the two of you, who had been giggling in the front row.

"No sir!" You called out with a wicked grin as you bowed at your father, and Mina stared at you blankly.

Your father rolled his eyes at your childish behavior. "Fine since this is so fun, let's throw in a challenge. Whoever scores last place, is expelled." His face was stoic and stern and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You knew he was a harsh teacher, but you hadn't expected this.

He smirked at you and you stood there and threw out your arms to the side. "What? You really think I'm going to lose?" You asked with an annoyed face before sticking your tongue out at him and walking to join the rest of the class.

Aizawa stood there with his arms crossed, chuckling softly. "No, my dear, I don't think you will. It wouldn't hurt you to learn to be humble though." He muttered, never losing his smile.

The first test in the quirk assessments was a 50-meter dash. You were in the second group along with Mina and the boy with the support item.

You grinned from ear to ear. "This is going to be fun."

The race began and you allowed your competitors to have a bit of a head start, cocky as always. "Hmm—I know!" You grinned before jumping hard and floating towards the halfway mark. You turned and waved at your competitors before landing and doing a back handspring—shooting yourself into the sky once more and landing at the finish line.

"Four point one seconds."

"Such a show off." Aizawa rolled his eyes at your jumping form but smiled proudly nonetheless.

Y/n Aizawa, her quirk: Super Float! She can muster bits of excess strength and channel it to parts of her body for a short period of time. She can also float her body at will, along with other small objects.

Mina panted as she clamped her hand on your shoulder, still a bit hunched over. "Girl! What's your quirk? I couldn't tell."

You laughed softly. "We call it a bunch of different things. I can summon some extra power to either make me stronger or faster. It's really not enough though to call it a power type. I can also float and make some smaller objects float if I point at it." You demonstrated by floating your bracelet off your wrist and above her head.

"Okay—kinda random but I'm here for it." She grinned as her eyes traveled up to watch your bracelet.

The class went through another series of tests. You excelled at the grip strength and the long jump. Your endurance tests were barely average—and the look your father gave you made you worried he was going to try and make you run.

You hated running—especially long distances.

Gran Torino loved making you run after pulling some stupid trick to help you control your quirk better. You always blew it off and told him you would get him more snacks if he buzzed off.

When the class finally made it to the distance ball throw, everyone was visibly giddy.

Everyone but the green haired kid.

Your brows furrowed as you took in the nervous but determined look across his face. He was clearly behind the rest of the class by miles, but he was chasing after the rest of you with full force.

He was quite confusing to you. He seemed so timid but the look on his face was terrifying. Why was he allowing himself to fall so behind?

"Hey, that kid didn't use his quirk at all, did he?" You whispered to Mina as you pointed towards the green haired boy.

She looked at him with her head tilted to the side. "No...I guess he didn't."

You refocused on the test and noticed the brown haired girl with pink cheeks was up and got a phenomenal score. "Hey! We have similar quirks." You mentioned to her as you walked towards the circle to have your turn.

"If you can keep it up for forty-five seconds you will have the same score as her." Your father muttered.

You nodded your head and snatched the ball from his hand.

You threw it up and point your finger at it, keeping it afloat. "I hope you're keeping count, because I'm sure not!" You grinned.

After forty five seconds he revealed the infinity sign. You walked over smugly to your classmates as the green haired boy took his place.

"46 meters!"

You shot around once you heard it and you saw your father's scarf expand and surround him. His hair shot up high and your brows scrunched together. "Why did he erase it?" You muttered.

You leaned in to listen but your hearing had never been very good—and your father talked obnoxiously quiet.

It seemed as if he was granted another turn and the ball flew high, making yours seem pitiful.

Your eyes widened in amazement before the truth behind your father's actions were revealed. The boy before you all stood with a finger that was clearly shattered.

"He's—wow." You whispered as a few of your classmates made various comments about him. His strength was incredible, but it clearly came with a devastating price.

"DAMMIT DEKU!" Bakugou went flying forward, but was immediately captured by your father's scarf.

He shouted profusely about his power and you tilted your head to the side. 'Deku? That couldn't possibly be right. Who names their kid Deku?' You completely missed the part where Bakugou demanded Deku to tell him where he got his quirk.

"I have dry eye!"

The tests soon commenced, mostly to test your baseline physical strength. You couldn't shake the weird feeling you had after watching the strength of that boy and how much pain it had put him in.

"I'll tell you the results quickly."

The brilliant tech of the high school showed the results. "Second." You muttered, noting how the girl in first seemed far ahead of you, but the boy in third was scarily close. You needed to put in some extra training if you wanted to remain in the top three, but that was just so exhausting.

"Oh, and no one will be expelled. That was simply a rational deception."

Your class broke out in protest and you noticed your father hand a slip to Deku.

"Oh, you guys didn't know that? I'm sorry I guess I should've told you." The girl who spoke was quite gorgeous and you assumed she was the one who had bested you today.

Though you had the urge to go talk to her, your feet were moving towards the boy with the broken finger.

"Is that a slip to Recovery Girl's?" You asked as you leaned in closely to his face from behind him.

He jumped forward and scrambled to contain his composure and you noticed he winced from the pain caused by his wild movements.

Your brows furrowed and you walked towards him, grabbing the wrist you had earlier used to pull him into your class.

"I'll take you."

"What? Why?"

"I'm feeling a bit guilty that's all. Just let me do something nice now would you?" You grumbled.

"Why would you feel guilty?"

"None of your business!" You retorted, your eyes shut tightly.

He was quiet for a moment, but quickly fell into rhythm with you. "You know, your quirk is really cool." He whispered.

You shrugged. "It's really not, what's really cool is when I get my weapons. Then I know how to move!" You grinned wickedly.

"Who taught you how to use weapons?" He asked nervously, noticing the malicious look spreading across your face.

Your expression quickly flickered back to the normal dull one you wore often. "Oh, my dad." You shrugged.

"Oh, is he a pro or something?" He asked, sounding more excited.

You nodded. "A retired one."

His head tilted to the side. "Oh? Who is he?"

You stopped and released his wrist. You took a step forward before turning to face him. "I guess I should properly introduce myself." You shrugged, with your eyes closed, and an expression that said this was your only option.

You were proving to be quite strange and he struggled to understand your expressions and mannerisms.

"The name's Y/n Aizawa." You grinned from ear to ear, your thumb pointing at your chest as you stood tall and strong.

"You're—our teacher's daughter?!"