A WEEK LATER...

A week has passed, and to my surprise, Aizawa and I have grown into an unlikely but comfortable bond. He's quiet, gruff, but there's a strange warmth in the little things he does—a small nod when I do something right, a fleeting, rare smile when he thinks I'm not looking. And while I had no real place to stay, he's taken me in with a simple, no-nonsense kindness, letting me settle into the rhythm of his world. He even goes so far as to invite me to his work, though not quite ready for me to meet his students. So here I am, sitting just outside the classroom door of UA, the most prestigious hero school in the country, a school I know will be full of quirks and powers that could easily make or break a person.

It's quieter than I expected, the hallway calm in the early morning before the chaos of the students' energy spills out. I'm leaning back against the cool wall, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for Aizawa to finish whatever business he has inside. He told me to wait out here. He didn't think it was the right time for me to meet his students, though I'm not sure why. I feel like I could handle it, but I respect his judgment, for now.

And then, that familiar voice cuts through the air, gruff and unapologetic. "Oi, what are you doing here?"

I look up and find none other than Bakugo himself, his usual scowl in full force. His spiky blonde hair practically crackles with irritation, and those fierce red eyes burn through the air like two burning embers, yet somehow, there's a flicker of confusion in them when he spots me.

I smirk, my lips curving into a playful grin, arms still casually folded. "Hello there, little firecracker. Why am I here? Because Mr. Aizawa—"

Bakugo's frown deepens, his voice tightening with annoyance. "You know my teacher, I take it. Are you as much of a deadbeat as he is?"

I chuckle, leaning back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other, knowing full well the effect I have on people. Whatever I look like in this world, it's enough to make this little firecracker flustered. The heat in his cheeks deepens, and for a brief second, he looks away, his pride battling the discomfort of whatever it is he's feeling.

"Well, nope, I wouldn't say deadbeat," I respond smoothly, my voice teasing yet calm, just as the door to Class 1-A opens with a loud creak, students streaming out in a flood of color and noise.

One of them, a short, green-haired kid—the broccoli-haired one, I think with an internal giggle—spots Bakugo and calls out, his voice bright and full of energy. "Oh, Kacchan, why did you come late?"

I tilt my head as the small, hyperactive boy approaches, my eyes narrowing slightly as I take in his exaggerated features. Aww, he looks like a human broccoli, I think, stifling an amused grin. His wide eyes and innocent expression are almost too cute, as though he's constantly in a state of enthusiastic confusion.

I can't help but feel a tiny sense of warmth bubble up inside me, a flicker of amusement mixed with something else—something that tells me that no matter how chaotic or confusing this world may be, it's got its charm.

Bakugo rolls his eyes dramatically and shoves the smaller boy, clearly annoyed at the interruption. "Don't call me Kacchan in front of people, Deku," he growls, his usual sharp tone softened by a rare trace of discomfort at being called that name out loud.

The broccoli-haired kid—Deku, I guess—looks sheepishly down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, Kacchan..."

I watch the exchange with mild curiosity. These kids, all of them, have a fire in them, a potential that's crackling in the air like static before a storm. They're heroes in the making, and I wonder just what their quirks can really do. But for now, it's just another glimpse into a world I'm slowly becoming a part of—a world of fiery personalities, strange alliances, and the ever-present hum of power.

I glance back at Bakugo, who's still trying to maintain his grumpy demeanor, though I can tell he's thrown off by my presence. Yeah, this'll be fun, I think to myself, a smirk curling on my lips as I stand up to join them.

I extend my hand to the green-haired kid, a soft smile playing on my lips. "I'm Nyx Everns. It's nice to meet you." My voice is warm, genuine, with just a touch of curiosity as I tilt my head slightly to the side. "Is your name Deku, or is that just a nickname?"

The moment I mention the name, Bakugo's voice cuts through the air, sharp and scathing. "It means he's worthless, that's all," he sneers, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as though the very act of speaking to us is beneath him.

Without another word, Bakugo turns on his heel and stalks off, his spiky blonde hair bouncing with every angry step. The audacity of the kid is... well, typical. But I'm not fazed. I'm used to arrogance, especially when it comes in the form of firecrackers like Bakugo.

The room feels quieter after his departure, and I turn my attention back to the green-haired boy—Izuku, I remind myself, though I already know his name. It's a gift I have, knowing names, knowing things I shouldn't—just another quirk of the world I've come to understand.

Izuku hesitates for a moment, his big, wide eyes unsure, before offering his hand. "I'm Izuku Midoriya, but, uh, call me Izuku," he says, his voice a little shaky but warm, like he's trying to be brave in a sea of uncertainty.

I take his hand with a gentle squeeze, smiling at him with the same warmth that I offered earlier. "Nice to meet you, Izuku. I have a feeling we'll be good friends," I say, and the words feel right, natural, as though this meeting was meant to happen.

His face flushes bright red, the heat of his embarrassment creeping up his neck. It's adorable in the way that only someone as earnest and open as Izuku can be. I chuckle softly, and my smile grows wider, pleased by the way he responds to my presence.

Izuku stammers, scratching the back of his head, clearly flustered by my words. "I—I hope so!" he says, his voice laced with that familiar excitement. He might not know it yet, but there's a sense that his journey is about to change, just like mine. We're both at the edges of something new, and somehow, I'm starting to feel like we're going to be a part of each other's story.

I take a step back, still smiling, feeling the weight of the strange, yet comforting bond between us. This world, with all its quirks and heroes, feels a little less foreign now.