How Nyx Looks Like (Just a suggestion: 

The warm spray of water cascades down my body as I stand in the shower, my long white hair flowing like strands of silk beneath the stream. I take my time, fingers working through the tresses, lathering them until they shimmer like moonlight against my skin. The rhythmic sound of water calms my thoughts, though the memory of my reflection in the mirror earlier is enough to make me smile to myself.

I finally got a good look at myself in this world. And wow. Now I get it—why people stared, why Bakugo couldn't quite hold my gaze, and why even Aizawa gave me that split-second double-take. My features are sharp yet elegant, ethereal even, as though I've stepped out of a dream. My hair, impossibly white, is striking, flowing like a cascade of fresh snow. But the real intrigue? The blindfold tied snugly over my eyes. It's not decorative, that much I know—it feels purposeful, connected to the power I can sense thrumming within me. But why it's there, and what its role is, I'm not entirely sure yet.

With the water turned off, I step out of the shower and reach for a towel, wrapping it securely around me before I begin drying my hair. The strands are long, reaching almost to my knees, and it takes patience to manage them, but I don't mind. There's something almost ritualistic about it, something grounding. Once my hair is dry, I tie it into a low ponytail, simple and practical but still elegant in its own way.

I apply just a touch of makeup—nothing too fancy, just enough to accentuate what's already there—and slip into simple, comfortable clothes. Adjusting the blindfold carefully over my eyes, I give myself one last look in the mirror. Even with the blindfold obscuring my gaze, I look... good. It's a quiet confidence, the kind that makes me stand a little taller as I open the bathroom door.

As I step into the main room, the scent of warm food greets me. Aizawa is already awake, though that doesn't surprise me. He stands near the small table, his usual scruffy demeanor somehow fitting the quiet domesticity of the moment. In his hands, he balances a tray, and the sight of the food makes my stomach growl softly. Onigiri and Miso Soup—simple, unassuming, and yet it makes me smile. There's a care to it that feels... nice.

"Ah, you're awake," Aizawa says, his voice low and steady as he sets the tray down. He doesn't look up right away, his focus instead on making sure everything is just right. The simplicity of his actions, the quiet rhythm of his movements—it's soothing in its own way.

I step closer, my lips curving into a soft smile. "Good morning, Mr. Shota," I say teasingly, using the name I know he secretly hates.

He glances up at that, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, though there's no real annoyance in his expression. "It's Aizawa," he corrects, his tone as gruff as ever. But I catch the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

As I sit down, I take in the small, quiet moment we've created. It's simple, yes, but somehow it feels like the start of something meaningful. Something steady in a world that's anything but.

As I settle onto the cushion in front of the low table, I pour myself a bowl of the fragrant miso soup, the steam curling in delicate wisps toward the ceiling. The savory aroma fills the air, a simple comfort that grounds the moment. I glance up at Aizawa, his scruffy hair casting shadows over his face as he sips his own soup with an almost meditative calm.

"Shall we go to UA today?" I ask, my voice light but curious as I take a small sip of the soup. The warmth spreads through me instantly, and I smile to myself at how something so simple can feel so perfect.

Aizawa looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine briefly before nodding. "Yes," he says, setting his bowl down. "We're heading to another facility today. You'll get to meet more of my students, along with a few other teachers. And there's someone else—a hero named Thirteen. They're... unique."

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to continue, then adds, "Oh, and the number one hero, All Might, will be there."

That catches my attention. I lean back slightly, a smirk playing at the edges of my lips. "All Might? Now, that's going to be fun," I say, my tone tinged with excitement. Meeting the symbol of peace himself? That's bound to be an experience, especially for someone like me, who thrives in the unexpected.

Aizawa chuckles quietly at my enthusiasm, his expression softening just a fraction. "Probably," he mutters, though his tone carries a wry amusement. It's clear he doesn't share the same starstruck feelings about All Might, but then again, I wouldn't expect him to. Aizawa is grounded, practical—he doesn't let the shine of celebrity distract him.

I can't help but smile as I finish my soup. The day ahead promises to be interesting, to say the least. And with Aizawa's deadpan humor and my knack for shaking things up, it's sure to be anything but ordinary.

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Aizawa and I settle into his car, the engine rumbling softly as we pull out of the driveway. The ride is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers in the backseat—probably some work he hasn't gotten around to finishing yet. I don't mind the silence. It gives me time to think, to prepare for the day ahead. By the time we pull into the parking lot at UA, the morning sun casts long shadows across the sleek, modern buildings, their imposing shapes standing as a testament to the ambitions cultivated here.

I step out of the car and retrieve my small bag from the seat, slinging it over my shoulder. A soft smile tugs at my lips as I mentally review its contents: lip gloss for a little flair, breath mints for obvious reasons, a hairbrush for practicality, and my phone because, well, it's 2024—of course I have my phone. Nothing extravagant, just the essentials for someone who isn't quite sure where the day might lead.

As we walk toward the main building, Aizawa glances at me, his usual serious expression in place. "When we go to the USJ, you'll sit with the students," he begins, his tone even and authoritative. "They can talk to you, but you're mainly there to observe. The same goes for when we train."

I nod, falling into step beside him. "Got it," I reply, my voice light but sincere. I understand the importance of blending in and letting the day unfold naturally. Still, I can't deny the spark of excitement that flickers at the idea of meeting more students, seeing how this world's aspiring heroes hone their skills.

As we approach Class 1-A, the door swings open to reveal a figure distinctly... different from anyone else here. Standing in front of us is Principal Nezu, his diminutive form radiating a strange but undeniable aura of authority. His black eyes glint with intelligence, and his small paw extends in greeting.

"Ah, I see you're with us today as well, Ms. Eternis," he says, his voice warm and welcoming but laced with an analytical undertone, as though he's assessing every detail of my presence. "It will be an honor to have you here."

I crouch slightly to meet him on his level, offering my hand with a smile that I hope conveys both respect and gratitude. "Likewise, Principal. I'm looking forward to seeing the strengths of the students here at UA."

His paw is small in mine, but his handshake is firm, his sharp gaze unwavering. "I'm sure you won't be disappointed," he replies with a faint, knowing smile, as if the secrets of this place are his alone to keep.

As we straighten, I glance toward the doorway of Class 1-A. I can already feel the energy buzzing behind those walls, a mixture of youthful ambition and raw potential waiting to be unleashed. Whatever happens today, it's clear that this school is at the heart of a world brimming with possibility. And I, for one, am ready to step into it.