The morning sun filtered through the windows of Class 1-A, casting long shadows across the empty classroom. Desks sat in neat rows, waiting for their occupants—the newest batch of hero course students who had somehow survived U.A.'s infamous entrance exam.

Outside the door, Aizawa Shouta stood with his arms crossed, looking even more exhausted than usual. Beside him, a tall figure leaned casually against the wall, white hair catching the light, a black blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

"You're sure about this?" Aizawa muttered, not looking at his companion.

Y/N Gojo tilted his head, a lazy smile playing at his lips. "About teaching a bunch of teenagers? Absolutely not. But Nezu asked nicely, and All Might gave me those puppy dog eyes. What was I supposed to do?"

"Say no."

"Where's the fun in that?" Gojo straightened up, rolling his shoulders. "Besides, I've heard interesting things about this class. Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, and that green-haired kid who apparently destroyed his own body during the entrance exam. Sounds like my kind of chaos."

Aizawa's eye twitched. "That's exactly what I'm worried about. Your 'kind of chaos.'"

"Relax, Shouta. I'll behave." Gojo's grin widened. "Mostly."

"That's what concerns me." Aizawa checked his watch, then sighed deeply—the sigh of a man about to make a decision he'd probably regret. "They should be here soon. I'll introduce you after I've done my evaluation. Try not to traumatize them on day one."

"No promises!" Gojo called cheerfully as Aizawa shuffled away.

Left alone in the hallway, Gojo's smile softened slightly. Through the blindfold, his Six Eyes perceived everything—every particle of dust floating through the air, every vibration in the building, every person moving through U.A.'s halls. He could sense the nervous energy of students approaching, the determined footsteps, the excited chatter.

So these are the kids who'll become the next generation of heroes, he thought, hands sliding into his pockets. Let's see what you're made of, Class 1-A.

Inside the classroom, students were beginning to file in, each one carrying their own energy, their own dreams.

Izuku Midoriya was one of the first to arrive, practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. His green eyes darted around the classroom, taking in every detail—the spacious room, the large windows, the simple desk at the front. This was really happening. He was really here, at U.A., in the hero course.

I made it, he thought, clutching the straps of his backpack. After everything, I actually made it. All Might believed in me, and I—

"DEKU!"

Midoriya's soul nearly left his body as Bakugo Katsuki stormed past him, slamming his bag onto a desk near the back. The explosive blonde shot him a glare that promised violence.

"Don't think just because we're in the same class that anything's changed, you useless nerd," Bakugo growled. "I'm going to be number one, got it?"

"Y-yes, Kacchan," Midoriya stammered, unconsciously taking a step back. Some things never change...

More students filtered in. Iida Tenya arrived with military precision, immediately approaching Midoriya with sharp, chopping hand gestures.

"Midoriya! It's good to see you again! I look forward to learning alongside you in our journey to become heroes!" His voice carried that same intense sincerity from the entrance exam.

"Iida! Yeah, me too!" Midoriya managed a genuine smile despite his nerves.

"Oh! You're the plain-looking boy who tried to help me!" A cheerful voice called out.

Midoriya turned to see Uraraka Ochako waving at him, her round face lit up with a bright smile. His face immediately turned red.

"U-Uraraka! Hi! I'm not—I mean, I didn't—that is—"

Smooth, Izuku. Real smooth.

As more students arrived, the classroom filled with energy. Ashido Mina was already chatting animatedly with anyone who'd listen. Kaminari Denki was trying to look cool while scoping out his classmates. Kirishima Eijirou was grinning widely, pumping himself up with enthusiastic mutters about how "manly" this all was.

Todoroki Shoto entered silently, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the room with detached observation before he claimed a seat by the window. He didn't speak to anyone, didn't acknowledge the excited chatter around him.

Focus on the goal, Todoroki thought, staring out the window. Become a hero without using his power. That's all that matters.

Yaoyorozu Momo entered with graceful confidence, her intelligent eyes already assessing her classmates. Tokoyami Fumikage followed, dark and brooding. Asui Tsuyu—"Call me Tsuyu, ribbit"—took a seat with calm composure.

The energy in the room was building, everyone excited, nervous, ready to begin their journey as hero students.

Then the door slid open.

Every conversation died instantly.

A disheveled figure stood in the doorway—a man wrapped entirely in what looked like a massive yellow sleeping bag, with wild black hair and exhausted, bloodshot eyes peering out at them.

"It took you eight seconds to quiet down," the man said, his voice gravelly and unimpressed. "Time is precious. Rational students would understand that."

Who... who is this guy? Midoriya thought, blinking rapidly.

The man unzipped the sleeping bag, revealing his hero costume—black combat gear with a long gray scarf. He pulled out a small pouch, extracting what looked like a juice box, and took a long sip before speaking again.

"I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you."

The class stared in stunned silence.

THIS is our teacher?! Multiple students thought simultaneously.

Aizawa's eyes swept across the room, analytical and cold. "It'll take a moment to get ready, but change into your gym clothes and head to the field."

"The field?" Uraraka questioned. "Are we doing some kind of test?"

"A quirk assessment test," Aizawa stated flatly.

"WHAT?!" The class erupted.

"But what about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?" Uraraka pressed.

Aizawa's expression somehow became even more deadpan. "If you want to be heroes, we don't have time for such leisurely events." His eyes narrowed slightly. "U.A. is known for its 'freestyle' educational system. That applies to us teachers as well."

He paused, letting that sink in, then added with almost casual cruelty: "Softball throwing, standing long jump, fifty-meter dash, endurance running, grip strength test, sustained sideways jumps, upper body exercises, and seated toe touches. These are the activities you did in middle school, naturally. Your standard physical fitness tests."

"Physical fitness tests?" Bakugo muttered, looking irritated.

"But we're not allowed to use our quirks for those!" Kaminari protested.

Aizawa's lips curled into something that might have been a smile if it wasn't so unsettling. "That's exactly the point. The country still hasn't gotten around to standardizing those sorts of records. It's not rational. The Ministry of Education is procrastinating."

He pulled out a phone, showing them data. "Bakugo, you placed first in the entrance exam, correct? How far could you throw a softball in middle school?"

Bakugo stood, his usual aggressive confidence radiating from him. "Sixty-seven meters."

"Good. Now try it with your quirk." Aizawa gestured toward the field. "Do whatever you need to. Just don't leave the circle."

The class followed Aizawa outside to a training field. The morning air was crisp, carrying the promise of a new beginning. Bakugo stepped into the throwing circle, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

Show them, he thought, a manic grin spreading across his face. Show them all what real power looks like.

"DIE!" Bakugo roared, explosions propelling the softball into the stratosphere.

Aizawa held up his phone, showing the result: 705.2 meters.

"It's important for us to know our limits," Aizawa said, his tone suggesting this was the most obvious thing in the world. "That's the first rational step to figuring out what kind of hero you'll be."

The class erupted in excitement.

"Seven hundred and five meters?! That's amazing!"

"This is going to be so much fun!"

"I can't wait to try!"

Aizawa's expression shifted, becoming something darker, more threatening. His hair began to float around his face, and his eyes glowed red.

"Fun?" His voice cut through their excitement like a blade. "You have three years to become a hero. Will you have an attitude like that the entire time?"

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

"All right. New rule," Aizawa said, his smile turning predatory. "The student who ranks last in total points will be judged hopeless..." He paused for effect. "And will be expelled."

"EXPELLED?!" The class shrieked in unison.

"We're free to do what we want about the circumstances of our students," Aizawa continued, unconcerned by their horror. "Welcome to U.A.'s hero course."

This can't be happening, Midoriya thought, panic rising in his chest. My quirk destroys my body when I use it. If I have to compete against everyone else, I'll definitely come in last. I'll be expelled on the first day! All Might gave me this power, entrusted me with his dream, and I'm going to lose it all before I even—

"That's not fair!" Uraraka protested, stepping forward with uncharacteristic boldness.

Aizawa's glowing eyes fixed on her. "Natural disasters, massive accidents, selfish villains. Calamities whose time or place can't be predicted. Japan is covered with unfairness. Heroes are the ones who correct all of that unfairness. If you were hoping to spend your evenings hanging out at McDonald's, I'm sorry to tell you that for the next three years, U.A. will run you through the wringer."

His hair fell back down, his quirk deactivating. "That's Plus Ultra." He gestured toward the field dismissively. "Now then, we're just wasting time. Let the games begin."

As the class moved to begin the tests, Aizawa's eyes tracked to the school building. Through a window, he could see a white-haired figure watching the proceedings with interest.

Your turn is coming soon, Aizawa thought. Try not to make this worse than it already is.

On the field, Midoriya clenched his fists, feeling the weight of One For All inside him—a power he could barely control, a gift he was terrified of losing.

I have to find a way, he thought desperately. There has to be a way to use this power without destroying myself. There has to be!

The tests began.

Y/N Gojo sat casually on a desk, legs swinging slightly as he watched Aizawa input the test results on his computer. Through his Six Eyes, he'd observed every moment of the assessment—every triumph, every failure, every moment of determination and despair.

"So?" Gojo asked lightly. "The green kid—Midoriya. You're not actually going to expel him, right?"

Aizawa didn't look up from his screen. "That was a logical ruse."

"Uh-huh. And traumatizing them on day one teaches them...?"

"That they need to take this seriously." Aizawa finally glanced at Gojo, his expression tired but firm. "These kids have potential, but potential means nothing without the will to push past their limits. Fear is a powerful motivator."

"So is encouragement," Gojo countered, his smile never wavering. "But hey, you do you, Shouta. I'm just the gym teacher."

"You're more than that and we both know it." Aizawa saved his work and stood. "Nezu didn't recruit you just to run them through exercises. He recruited you because you're—"

"The strongest?" Gojo supplied helpfully.

"—because you see things others don't," Aizawa finished. "Your Six Eyes, your experience. These kids are going to need someone like you, especially with the League of Villains becoming more active."

Gojo's smile faded slightly, becoming something more serious. "You really think something big is coming?"

"I know it is." Aizawa moved toward the door, then paused. "And when it does, I'm glad you'll be here."

Left alone, Gojo turned to look out the window at Class 1-A, still recovering from their brutal first day. His Six Eyes focused on Midoriya in particular—the boy who'd somehow impressed All Might enough to inherit his power, the boy who'd broken his finger to barely pass the assessment.

Interesting, Gojo thought, his smile returning. Very interesting indeed.

Tomorrow, they'd meet properly. Tomorrow, he'd see what this class was really made of.

Get ready, Class 1-A, he thought. Your real training is about to begin.

The final bell of the day rang through U.A., and Class 1-A collectively breathed a sigh of exhausted relief. After Aizawa's brutal quirk assessment test—which had pushed every one of them to their absolute limits—most of the students were running on fumes, adrenaline, and sheer determination.

"I can't believe we survived," Kaminari groaned, slumping over his desk. "I thought for sure I was going to be expelled."

"We all did," Kirishima agreed, though his grin remained undeterred. "But we made it through! That's so manly!"

"Aizawa-sensei is terrifying," Ashido whimpered, her usual bubbly energy significantly dampened. "I've never been so scared in my life."

Midoriya sat quietly at his desk, staring at his bandaged finger. He'd managed to avoid expulsion by using just enough of One For All to pass the ball throw without completely destroying his body—a desperate gamble that had barely worked. But now, exhaustion weighed on him like a physical thing.

I need to get stronger, he thought, clenching his uninjured hand. I need to learn how to control this power, or I'll never become the hero All Might believes I can be.

"Attention, everyone!" Iida was on his feet instantly, arms chopping through the air despite his obvious fatigue. "We still have one more class before the day ends! We must maintain our focus and enthusiasm!"

The class collectively groaned.

"Iida, please," Sero begged. "We're dying here."

"Yeah, man, give us a break," Kaminari added weakly.

"What class do we even have left?" Uraraka asked, pulling out her schedule with tired fingers. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh! It's... Hero Battle Training?"

That got everyone's attention.

"Hero Battle Training?" Midoriya repeated, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as his analytical mind kicked into gear. "On our first day?"

"With everything we've been through already?" Jirou questioned, looking skeptical.

"Perhaps it will be a lecture-based class?" Yaoyorozu suggested hopefully. "An introduction to combat theory and strategy?"

Bakugo scoffed from his seat, feet still propped up on his desk despite Iida's earlier protests. "Who cares? Finally, something interesting instead of all this basic crap."

"Those 'basic' tests nearly killed us, ribbit," Tsuyu pointed out calmly.

"Speak for yourself," Bakugo shot back with his usual aggressive confidence. "I came in fifth. Not bad for 'basic crap.'"

Fifth behind Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Iida, and that Shouji guy, Midoriya noted mentally. Kacchan must be furious he wasn't first...

"Well, there's no point in speculating," Todoroki said quietly from his seat by the window, his heterochromatic eyes still gazing outside. "We should head to the training hall."

"Todoroki's right!" Iida declared, already moving toward the door. "We must not be late! It would be disrespectful to our instructor!"

The class gathered their things and made their way through U.A.'s impressive halls. Despite their exhaustion, there was an undercurrent of excitement. Hero Battle Training sounded official, important—the kind of class they'd dreamed about when they'd applied to U.A.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us," Midoriya murmured, his notebook already in hand. "Maybe Present Mic? Or Midnight? Oh, or maybe one of the other pro heroes on staff—"

"Knowing our luck, it'll be another weird teacher like Aizawa," Kaminari muttered.

"Aizawa-sensei is not weird!" Iida protested immediately. "He is simply... unconventional in his methods!"

"He threatened to expel us on the first day," Jirou deadpanned.

"An unconventional method!" Iida insisted.

They reached the training hall—a massive facility with high ceilings and enough space to comfortably fit several buildings inside. The doors were already open, inviting them in.

As they filed through the entrance, their chatter gradually died down.

Standing in the center of the vast training hall was a figure that commanded attention without seeming to try. He was tall—easily over six feet—with an lean, athletic build visible even through his modified U.A. staff uniform. But what immediately caught everyone's attention was his hair: pure white, styled in an artfully tousled way that seemed to defy gravity, and the black blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

A blindfold? Midoriya's mind immediately went into overdrive. Is that part of a quirk? A support item? But if he can't see, how is he—

The man's head turned toward them as they entered, and despite the blindfold completely obscuring his eyes, every student had the distinct sensation that he was looking directly at them. Studying them. Seeing through them.

It was deeply unsettling.

Then he smiled—a lazy, lopsided grin that was somehow both welcoming and vaguely infuriating in its casual confidence.

"Yo!" He raised one hand in a relaxed wave, his voice smooth and playful. "You must be Class 1-A. Right on time! Well, mostly. Some of you were definitely dragging your feet, but I'll let it slide since it's your first day."

The class stood frozen in the entrance, unsure how to respond.

Who is this guy? seemed to be the collective thought.

The man's smile widened, as if he could hear their confusion and found it delightful. He stepped forward with an easy, confident stride, hands sliding into his pockets.

"Guess I should introduce myself, huh?" He tilted his head slightly. "Name's Y/N Gojo, and starting today, I'm your P.E. teacher."

"P.E. teacher?" Kirishima repeated, blinking. "But I thought—"

"You thought All Might was teaching this class?" Gojo's grin took on an amused edge. "Yeah, about that. Change of plans. All Might's going to handle your hero training later this week—something about wanting to make a dramatic entrance with costumes and everything. Very him." He shrugged casually. "So you're stuck with me today. Try to contain your disappointment."

All Might isn't teaching today? Midoriya felt a pang of disappointment, followed immediately by curiosity. But who is this Gojo-sensei? I've never heard of a pro hero with that name. And that blindfold...

"A blindfolded teacher?" Bakugo called out, his voice dripping with skepticism and barely contained aggression. "What kind of joke is this? How are you supposed to teach us anything if you can't even see?"

Several students winced at Bakugo's bluntness, but others seemed to share his doubts.

Gojo's smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew more amused.

"Can't see?" He repeated, as if this was the funniest thing he'd heard all day. "Oh, that's adorable. You think I can't see."

Before anyone could respond, Gojo's hand shot out of his pocket, pointing directly at Bakugo without hesitation. "Bakugo Katsuki. Explosion quirk. Came in first in the entrance exam with seventy-seven villain points. Placed fifth in today's assessment. Currently furious about not placing first and already planning how to prove you're better than everyone else in this room."

Bakugo's eyes widened in shock before narrowing dangerously.

Gojo's finger shifted, pointing to another student. "Todoroki Shoto. Half-Cold Half-Hot quirk. Second place in the exam, first place in the assessment. Son of the number two hero Endeavor, though you'd rather eat glass than acknowledge that connection. You're planning to become a hero using only your ice side, which is... well, we'll get to that."

Todoroki's expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or wariness.

Gojo continued, pointing to each student in turn.

"Yaoyorozu Momo. Creation quirk. Brilliant mind, natural leader, but currently doubting herself because she expected to place higher. You placed second, by the way—that's incredible for your first day."

Yaoyorozu's eyes widened, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"Iida Tenya. Engine quirk. Third place in both exam and assessment. Earnest, rule-following, and desperately trying to live up to your family name. Also, you need to relax before you give yourself an ulcer."

"I—I do not have—!" Iida sputtered, arms windmilling.

"Midoriya Izuku." Gojo's finger pointed straight at him, and Midoriya felt his heart skip a beat. "Quirk recently manifested, still learning control. Placed seventh in the exam, came in last in the assessment but avoided expulsion through clever use of your power. You break your bones when you use your quirk, which suggests either terrible control or a power that's fundamentally incompatible with your body. We're going to work on that."

He knows, Midoriya thought, panic rising in his chest. How does he know? Can he tell that One For All isn't originally mine? Does he—

"Should I keep going?" Gojo asked cheerfully, his hand dropping back into his pocket. "Because I can. I know all of you—your quirks, your scores, your fighting styles from the entrance exam, even what you had for breakfast this morning." His grin sharpened. "Ashido, those spicy noodles were a bold choice. Kaminari, three energy drinks? Really? And Sato, I respect the commitment to carbs."

The class stared in stunned silence.

"How did you..." Uraraka started, then trailed off.

"My quirk," Gojo explained simply, tapping the side of his blindfold. "These aren't for show, and they're definitely not because I can't see. It's actually the opposite problem—I see too much. The blindfold helps me filter out unnecessary information so I'm not constantly overwhelmed."

"Too much?" Tokoyami questioned, his voice carrying its usual dark tone. "What does that mean?"

Gojo's smile softened slightly, becoming almost genuine. "It means I can see everything. Energy flows, spatial relationships, the atomic structure of matter, quirk activation patterns—the whole universe laid out in perfect, mathematical detail." He paused, then added with deliberate casualness, "It's one aspect of my quirk: Limitless."

"Limitless," Yaoyorozu repeated slowly, her analytical mind already trying to process the implications. "That's... incredibly vague. Does it mean—"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Gojo interrupted, his playful tone returning. "No limits. Infinite possibility. The universe's cheat code, basically." He shrugged as if discussing something mundane. "But we'll get into the details later. Right now, we have training to do."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kaminari held up his hands, looking thoroughly confused. "So you're, what, crazy strong or something? Is that why they hired you to teach us?"

Gojo tilted his head, considering the question. Then his smile widened into something sharper, more confident—almost predatory.

"Crazy strong?" He repeated, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "No. I'm not crazy strong. I'm the strongest."

The temperature in the room seemed to shift, though nothing physical had changed. It was just... presence. The weight of complete, unshakeable confidence.

"The strongest person you'll ever meet," Gojo continued, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something vast and incomprehensible beneath it. "The strongest person in Japan. Possibly the world. No offense to All Might—I love the guy, he's great—but yeah. It's me."

The strongest? Midoriya's mind was racing. That's... that's impossible, right? All Might is the Symbol of Peace, the number one hero! How could someone we've never heard of be stronger than—

"That's a pretty big claim," Kirishima said, though his tone was more awed than challenging. "The strongest in the world?"

"Not a claim," Gojo corrected gently. "Just a fact. Like gravity. Or how Bakugo yells basically everything he says."

"I DON'T—!" Bakugo started to roar, then caught himself, proving Gojo's point. His face turned red with fury.

Several students snickered.

"Prove it," Todoroki said quietly, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on Gojo with cold assessment. "If you're as strong as you claim, prove it."

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Todoroki, then back at Gojo.

Gojo's smile somehow became even more amused. "Oh, I like you," he said, pointing at Todoroki. "Straight to the point. No nonsense. Very efficient." He considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. You want proof? Here's a fun demonstration."

He walked casually toward the center of the training hall, then turned to face the class. "Everyone, I want you to try to touch me."

"...What?" Jirou asked, voicing everyone's confusion.

"Touch me," Gojo repeated, gesturing to himself. "Lay a hand on me. Any part of me counts—shoulder, arm, head, doesn't matter. If even one of you can make physical contact with me in the next..." He checked an imaginary watch. "Let's say three minutes, I'll buy the entire class lunch for a week."

"That's it?" Ashido asked skeptically. "Just touch you?"

"Just touch me," Gojo confirmed. "Use your quirks, work together, whatever you want. Only rule is you can't hurt each other trying."

The class exchanged glances, a mixture of confusion and intrigue spreading through them.

"This seems too easy," Yaoyorozu murmured.

"Sounds like easy lunch to me," Kaminari grinned.

"It's obviously a trick," Bakugo growled, but his eyes were gleaming with competitive fire. "But I'll take him down anyway."

"I don't think we should—" Midoriya started, his analytical mind sensing something off about this whole situation.

"Three minutes starts now!" Gojo announced cheerfully.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved.

Then Bakugo exploded forward with a roar. "DIE!"

That broke the spell. Half the class surged forward, quirks activating, all trying to accomplish the seemingly simple task of touching their new teacher.

Bakugo reached him first, palm already crackling with explosions as he swung at Gojo's face—

His hand stopped.

Not because Gojo blocked it. Not because he dodged. It just... stopped. Centimeters from Gojo's face, as if there was an invisible wall between them.

"What the—" Bakugo's eyes widened.

Kirishima came from the side, arm hardened to diamond-like density. His punch should have connected with Gojo's ribs. It stopped the same way, unable to bridge those final few centimeters.

Iida circled around, engines roaring, using his incredible speed to try to grab Gojo from behind. His fingers got within millimeters of Gojo's shoulder before they just... couldn't go any further.

"What is this?!" Iida shouted, his usual composure cracking.

Sero tried shooting tape to bind Gojo from a distance. The tape extended, reached Gojo, and then slowed down, its forward momentum gradually decreasing until it stopped completely just before contact, hanging in the air like it had hit an invisible wall.

Ashido shot acid from her hands—carefully controlled to not cause harm, just to make contact. The acid traveled toward Gojo, then began to slow, the droplets hanging suspended in midair around him like bizarre decoration.

"This is impossible!" Yaoyorozu created a long pole, trying to extend it to touch Gojo from a safe distance. The pole extended, got close, and stopped. She pushed harder, her face straining with effort, but the pole wouldn't budge another millimeter.

Todoroki, ever analytical, had been watching and thinking. He raised his right hand, and ice began to spread across the floor, racing toward Gojo in a crystalline wave. The ice reached Gojo's feet and then... stopped. It couldn't climb up his shoes, couldn't touch him. It just built up in a perfect circle around him, unable to bridge that impossible gap.

"It's like there's a barrier," Tokoyami observed, Dark Shadow emerging from his body to try to reach Gojo. The sentient shadow got close, stretched out its hand, and stopped. "But I can't see anything. What kind of quirk is this?"

Throughout it all, Gojo stood perfectly still in the center of the chaos, hands in his pockets, that infuriating smile never leaving his face. Students circled him, attacked from every angle, combined their efforts—and every single attempt stopped just short of touching him.

Midoriya watched from a short distance, his mind working frantically. There's something there. Some kind of invisible barrier that stops everything from reaching him. But how? Is it a force field? Some kind of spatial manipulation? The way everything slows down as it approaches him... it's like the distance between them is becoming infinite...

"One minute left!" Gojo announced cheerfully, as if he wasn't currently surrounded by increasingly frustrated hero students trying desperately to touch him.

"FUCK THIS!" Bakugo roared, building up his biggest explosion yet. "If I can't touch you, I'll blow right through you!"

"Bakugo, wait!" Midoriya shouted, recognizing the danger. "If you use that much power in here—"

Too late. Bakugo unleashed a massive explosion, the shockwave powerful enough to crack the training hall floor.

The explosion reached Gojo, surrounded him in fire and force—

And dissipated harmlessly around him, unable to penetrate those final few centimeters. The shockwave split and flowed around him like water around a stone, not a single hair on his head moving out of place.

When the smoke cleared, Gojo stood exactly as he had before, completely untouched, still smiling.

"Good attempt," he said conversationally. "Really liked the enthusiasm. But you're thinking about this wrong."

"How?!" Ashido demanded, breathing hard from the exertion. "What are we supposed to do?! We can't touch you!"

"Exactly," Gojo said, and there was something almost educational in his tone now. "You can't touch me. Nobody can, unless I let them. That's my quirk—Limitless. Specifically, the technique I'm using right now is called 'Infinity.'"

"Infinity?" Midoriya repeated, his notebook already out despite his exhaustion. "You mean—"

"I control space at an atomic level," Gojo explained, his tone taking on a lecturing quality. "The closer you get to me, the slower you move. Infinitely slower. You can spend your entire life trying to close that gap, dividing the distance in half over and over again, and you'll never reach me. It's like Zeno's Paradox, but real."

He held up a hand, and suddenly there was a small sphere of blue energy floating above his palm—beautiful, mesmerizing, and somehow terrifying in its perfection.

"This is what infinite space looks like when compressed and given form," Gojo continued. "The mathematics of the universe made manifest. Pretty cool, right?"

The sphere vanished, and Gojo's smile returned to its usual playful expression. "And that's just one application of Limitless. I've got others, but we'll get to those another time."

"Time's up!" He announced, looking around at the exhausted, frustrated class. "Not a single person managed to touch me. Looks like you're all buying your own lunch. Tragic."

"That's not fair!" Kaminari protested. "How were we supposed to touch you when you've got some kind of... infinite untouchable force field thing?!"

"Life isn't fair," Gojo said, echoing Aizawa's earlier words but with much less malice. "Villains won't fight fair. Disasters won't give you a fair chance. If you're going to be heroes, you need to learn how to deal with the impossible." His smile softened slightly. "But hey, good effort. You've all got potential. Some of you more than others, but potential nonetheless."

The class stood there, breathing hard, several of them looking at Gojo with a mixture of awe, frustration, and newfound respect.

He really is incredible, Midoriya thought, scribbling frantically in his notebook. Spatial manipulation at that level... the energy requirements alone should be astronomical. And to maintain it so effortlessly while we all attacked him... This is what someone who's truly strong looks like. This is the level I need to reach.

"So," Gojo clapped his hands together, breaking the spell his demonstration had created. "Now that we've established that I'm not just some random guy with a blindfold, let's talk about what we're actually doing today."

He gestured broadly to the training hall around them. "Hero Battle Training. The name pretty much says it all—you're going to learn how to fight like heroes. Not just throw punches and blast things with your quirks, but actually fight strategically, work in teams, and think on your feet."

"But All Might—" Midoriya started.

"Will teach you the cool stuff later, yeah," Gojo interrupted. "The dramatic hero entrances, the costume reveals, all that fun stuff. He's better at the inspirational speech side of things anyway. Me?" His grin widened. "I'm here to make sure you don't die when things get serious."

"Die?" Uraraka repeated, her voice rising slightly.

"Poor word choice," Gojo amended, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm here to make sure you can survive. Big difference. Much less grim."

"That's barely better!" Kaminari pointed out.

"Anyway," Gojo continued, ignoring the protests, "today we're starting simple. Basic combat assessment—I need to see how you move, how you think, how you use your quirks in actual combat situations. Think of it like what Aizawa did this morning, but with more punching and less... math."

"Are we fighting each other?" Todoroki asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp with interest.

"Eventually, yes. But not today." Gojo pointed at himself. "Today, you're all fighting me."

The class stared.

"All of us?" Kirishima clarified. "Against you?"

"Yep!"

"At the same time?" Yaoyorozu asked, looking concerned.

"Yep!"

"That seems..." Iida searched for the right word. "Excessive? And potentially dangerous for you, sensei!"

Gojo laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "Dangerous for me? Oh, that's adorable. No, Iida, I'll be fine. Better than fine. This is actually going to be pretty easy for me, no offense."

"That's it," Bakugo snarled, explosions already crackling around his palms. "I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face."

"There's the spirit!" Gojo encouraged. "Alright, here's how this works: Your goal is simple—fight me for ten minutes. Work together, use your quirks, try your best to actually challenge me. I won't use any offensive techniques, just defense. Think of me as the boss level you're not ready for yet."

"And what do we get if we win?" Ashido asked, though she didn't sound particularly confident about their chances.

"If you manage to make me use even one offensive technique—if you push me hard enough that I have to actually attack instead of just defending—I'll give you all an A in my class for the entire semester."

That got their attention.

"An A for the whole semester?!" Kaminari's eyes lit up.

"Just for making you attack once?" Jirou looked skeptical. "That seems too easy."

Gojo's smile took on a challenging edge. "If you think it's easy, then by all means, come prove it."

The class exchanged glances. Despite their exhaustion from the day, despite having just witnessed Gojo's demonstration of his impossible quirk, there was determination in their eyes.

These were the students who'd made it into U.A.'s hero course. They didn't back down from challenges.

"Well?" Gojo spread his arms wide, his stance relaxed and open. "What are you waiting for? Show me what Class 1-A is made of."

For a moment, silence hung in the training hall.

Then Midoriya stepped forward, his mind already racing through possibilities and strategies. "Everyone," he called out, his voice carrying surprising authority. "We need to work together. If we all attack separately like before, we'll just—"

"Like I'm taking orders from you, Deku!" Bakugo exploded, quite literally, charging forward.

And just like that, the chaos began again.

But this time, Midoriya noticed something different in Gojo's stance. This time, the teacher wasn't just standing still. He was moving—not much, just slight shifts and turns, but he was actively engaged now, treating this like an actual combat situation.

He's taking us seriously, Midoriya realized. Even if he's holding back, he's actually fighting. This is our chance to learn from someone truly strong. I need to watch everything, analyze everything...

As Class 1-A threw themselves against the immovable object that was Y/N Gojo, none of them realized that this was just the beginning. That this strange, powerful teacher with his blindfold and impossible quirk was about to change everything about their journey to becoming heroes.

High above in the observation room, Aizawa watched through the monitors, a rare expression of something almost like approval on his tired face.

"Think they'll manage it?" Principal Nezu asked from beside him, his paws wrapped around a cup of tea.

"Against Gojo?" Aizawa snorted. "Not a chance. They're first years. They've barely begun to understand their own quirks, let alone how to fight someone of his caliber."

"And yet," Nezu's eyes gleamed with intelligence, "they're trying. That's what matters."

On the screen, Class 1-A continued their futile but determined assault, and Y/N Gojo continued to smile, dodge, and occasionally offer helpful combat advice while remaining completely untouchable.

"Welcome to U.A., Class 1-A," Nezu murmured. "Your real education starts now."