The morning of departure arrived with crystalline clarity—the kind of perfect summer day that made even the most jaded hero appreciate being alive. The U.A. parking lot buzzed with youthful energy as Class 1-A assembled, their excited chatter filling the air like birdsong.

Izuku stood near the front of the gathering crowd, his worn red sneakers scuffing against the pavement as he adjusted the straps of his overstuffed backpack for the third time. His green eyes darted between his classmates, mentally cataloging who had arrived and who was still missing. Training camp, he thought, barely containing his excitement. This is our chance to get stronger, to push past our limits—

"Everyone! Please form an orderly line!" Iida's voice cut through the ambient noise like a whistle, his arm chopping through the air in that characteristic robotic motion. His glasses caught the sunlight as he positioned himself at what he deemed the optimal gathering point, his posture rigid with class representative authority. "We must demonstrate proper conduct even before boarding the bus! U.A. students are expected to maintain exemplary behavior at all times!"

Kaminari groaned audibly, slouching against his duffel bag. "Dude, we're not in class yet—"

"Precisely why we must be vigilant!" Iida interrupted, his engines giving a small sputter of emphasis. "Lax behavior breeds lax habits!"

A laugh—bright, melodious, and carrying an undertone of cosmic amusement that made the air itself seem to shimmer—rippled across the parking lot.

Every head turned in perfect synchronization.

Y/N emerged from the school's entrance like a vision from another realm, backlit by the morning sun in a way that seemed almost deliberately cinematic. The golden light caught her white hair, making it glow like freshly fallen snow, and her uncovered eyes—those devastating cosmic depths—sparkled with mischief that promised both protection and chaos in equal measure. She wore casual clothes for once: fitted black jeans, combat boots that somehow looked both practical and stylish, and a loose white button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing forearms that had channeled enough divine energy to level mountains.

Her presence washed over the students like a warm wave, that indefinable something that marked her as fundamentally different from ordinary beings. The shadows around her seemed just slightly darker, the light just slightly brighter, as if reality was constantly adjusting its settings in her vicinity.

She sauntered toward them with that effortless confidence, her lips curved in that signature playful smile. One hand casually dragged a sleek black suitcase behind her—the kind that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent—while the other held a to-go cup of what smelled like the most expensive coffee known to mankind.

She makes walking look like an art form, Midoriya thought, his analytical mind cataloging every detail despite himself. How does she do that?

"Aw, Iida-kun~" Y/N drawled, her voice carrying that teasing lilt that made it impossible to tell if she was being serious or not. She took a leisurely sip of her coffee, her cosmic eyes twinkling with amusement over the rim of the cup. "There's no need for such a rigid system on a bus, you know? We're going to camp, not a military tribunal. Loosen up a little!" She reached out and playfully tapped his shoulder, the gesture somehow both casual and carrying the weight of divine authority. "Save that energy for the actual training. Trust me, you'll need it~"

Iida's mouth opened and closed like a fish, his hands frozen mid-chop. "But—Y/N-sensei—proper conduct—"

"Is important, yes, yes," Y/N finished for him, waving her hand dismissively. The motion left faint trails of shimmering energy in the air that only those with the sharpest perception could detect. "But so is not giving yourself an aneurysm before we even leave the parking lot. Balance, my dear student. Balance~"

She's not wrong, Iida thought reluctantly, his shoulders dropping slightly from their rigid position. But still—

The heavy footsteps of Aizawa approaching cut through the moment. He emerged from behind the bus, his capture weapon draped around his neck like a sleeping serpent, his expression carrying its usual exhausted resignation. His dark eyes swept across the assembled students before landing on Y/N with a look that clearly said Of course, you're already causing a scene.

"She's right, Iida," Aizawa said, his monotone voice somehow conveying both agreement and weariness. He jerked his thumb toward the bus behind him. "Everyone, get on the bus. We're leaving in five minutes, and I don't want to hear any complaints about seating arrangements."

Thank god she's here to handle the chaos, he thought, though he'd never admit it aloud. Means I can focus on keeping them alive.

"You heard the man!" Y/N announced cheerfully, gesturing toward the bus with her coffee cup like a conductor with a baton. "All aboard the express train to 'Getting Your Butts Kicked By Professional Heroes'~! Don't worry, I'll be there to watch—I mean, supervise—the whole time!"

The students erupted into motion, excitement overriding any lingering concerns about proper line formation. They surged toward the bus in a controlled chaos of backpacks, duffel bags, and enthusiastic chatter.

Y/N moved with fluid grace toward the bus steps, her divine senses automatically cataloging every student's energy signature, emotional state, and potential threat level—a habit so ingrained she barely noticed doing it anymore. All present and accounted for. Good. Would hate to leave someone behind. The paperwork would be murder.

She ascended the bus steps with casual elegance, her cosmic eyes sweeping across the interior. The seats stretched before her in neat rows, already beginning to fill with students claiming their territories. Without hesitation, she made her way toward the back, where Aizawa had already claimed a window seat, his capture weapon adjusted for optimal napping position.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, though she was already sliding into the seat beside him, her suitcase stowed overhead with a casual gesture that involved just a touch of divine power to make it weightless.

Aizawa grunted—his version of enthusiastic agreement—and shifted slightly to give her more room. "Try not to encourage them too much," he muttered, his eyes already half-closed. "They're excited enough as it is."

"Me? Encourage chaos?" Y/N pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense, her cosmic eyes widening with faux innocence. "Shota-kun, I'm hurt. I'm a professional."

"You showed up hungover two days ago."

"A fun professional."

Despite himself, the corner of Aizawa's mouth twitched upward for just a fraction of a second before returning to its default position of tired resignation.

Y/N settled into her seat, crossing her legs and angling herself toward the window. The bus engine rumbled to life beneath them, a low purr of machinery that would soon carry them toward whatever chaos awaited at the training camp. Behind them, the students' voices created a symphony of youthful energy—Kaminari's laugh, Ashido's excited squeals, Bakugo's aggressive muttering, Midoriya's analytical rambling.

This is nice, Y/N thought, genuine warmth blooming in her ancient heart. Moments like these—before the storm hits, when everything is just... potential.

She turned her gaze out the window as the bus began to move, watching the U.A. campus slowly recede into the distance. The morning sun painted everything in shades of gold and amber, making even the ordinary buildings look touched by magic. Her reflection stared back at her from the glass—those cosmic eyes that held galaxies and destruction, framed by white hair that had witnessed the birth and death of stars.

Her lips curved into a genuine smile, softer than her usual playful smirk. This would be a fun day, she mused, her divine senses already reaching out toward their destination, feeling the ley lines of cursed energy, the pulse of the earth, the distant signatures of both heroes and villains moving like pieces on a cosmic chessboard. I'm sure of it.

Behind her, Midoriya's voice rose in excitement as he explained something about training regimens to Uraraka. Todoroki's quiet responses provided a calm counterpoint. Iida had apparently recovered from his earlier deflation and was now lecturing Kaminari about proper hydration during intense physical activity.

Y/N's smile widened slightly. Let them have this moment, she thought, her fingers drumming a silent rhythm against her thigh—each tap resonating with barely contained divine power. Let them be young and excited and unaware of what's coming. That's what being a hero is about, after all. Carrying the weight so they don't have to.

The bus merged onto the highway, carrying its precious cargo of future heroes toward their destination. And in the back seat, a god disguised as a teacher watched over them all, her cosmic eyes reflecting not just the passing scenery, but the infinite possibilities of what was to come.

Fun, she thought again, taking another sip of her coffee. Definitely going to be fun.

In the League's hideout, shadows clung to the crumbling walls like living things, the air thick with the scent of decay and ambition. Dabi lounged against the far wall, one hand wrapped around a chipped mug of coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The bitter liquid matched his mood perfectly as he stared at nothing in particular, his scarred fingers drumming an irregular pattern against the ceramic.

The door burst open with enough force to make the hinges groan in protest.

Toga practically danced into the room, her blonde hair bouncing with each twirling step, her golden eyes gleaming with that particular brand of manic excitement that usually preceded bloodshed. She hummed a cheerful tune—something discordant and slightly off-key that made Dabi's eye twitch.

"Ohhh, I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!" she sang, spinning in a circle with her arms outstretched like a demented ballerina. Her school uniform—stolen, probably—swirled around her legs as she moved. "We're finally going to see them! All those yummy heroes-in-training, and—" her expression shifted into something almost reverent, her cheeks flushing pink, "—and Y/N-sensei will be there too! I wonder what her blood tastes like? Divine? Powerful? Maybe it sparkles!"

Dabi's relaxed posture evaporated like morning mist under a blowtorch.

His turquoise eyes snapped to Toga with laser focus, the temperature in the room seeming to spike several degrees as wisps of blue flame flickered to life along his shoulders. The coffee mug creaked ominously in his tightening grip, hairline fractures spreading across its surface like spiderwebs.

"Listen here, you psychotic brat," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous register that made even Toga pause mid-twirl. He pushed off the wall with deliberate slowness, his scarred face twisting into something feral. Each word came out clipped, precise, deadly. "No one touches Y/N. No one hurts her. No one so much as looks at her wrong, or I'll turn them into a fucking bonfire. Are we clear?"

She's off-limits, his mind snarled with possessive fury. I don't care what Shigaraki says, what the mission is, what anyone wants—she's not getting caught in this mess.

Toga's eyes widened for a moment before her lips curved into a knowing, teasing smile that was somehow more unsettling than her earlier manic energy. She swayed closer, her head tilting at an unnatural angle as she studied him with the intensity of a cat watching a particularly interesting mouse.

"Ohhh~" she cooed, drawing out the syllable with deliberate provocation. "Dabi-kun has a crush! How adorable~! Does the big bad villain have a soft spot for the pretty god-sensei? Do you dream about her? Think about her when you're burning things?" She clasped her hands together, batting her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. "Should I tell her? I bet she'd think it's so romantic—"

Dabi's glare could have melted steel.

Blue flames erupted fully along his arms now, the staples in his skin glinting in the ethereal light. The heat radiating from him made the air shimmer, and the coffee in his mug began to steam and bubble. "Shut. Up," he hissed through clenched teeth, taking a threatening step forward. "Before I forget Shigaraki wants you alive."

This little psycho is going to get herself killed one of these days, he thought venomously. And I might just be the one to do it.

"Now, now, children."

The smooth, theatrical voice cut through the tension like a knife through butter. Mr. Compress materialized from the shadows near the doorway—or perhaps he'd been there all along, waiting for the optimal moment to make his entrance. His mask gleamed in the dim light as he adjusted his top hat with a flourish, his posture radiating the calm authority of a ringmaster controlling unruly circus animals.

"Let's all take a breath, shall we?" he continued, his tone carrying that peculiar mix of amusement and warning. He stepped between them with measured grace, one gloved hand raised in a placating gesture. "Dabi, extinguish yourself before you set off the smoke detectors—assuming they still work in this dump. Toga, dear, perhaps save your bloodlust for the actual mission?"

His mask turned toward each of them in turn, and though his expression was hidden, the weight of his attention was palpable.

"Besides," Mr. Compress continued, his voice dropping to something more serious, "Shigaraki has made his position abundantly clear. Y/N-sensei is not to be harmed during the attack on the training camp. Not by us, not by any of the recruited villains, not by anyone who values their continued existence." He paused, letting the words sink in. "She's too powerful, too unpredictable, and frankly, too valuable as a potential future asset to antagonize. The boss wants the students—specifically, the explosive blonde one. That's the mission. Nothing more, nothing less."

Though whether those hired thugs will actually listen is another matter entirely, he thought privately, his mind already calculating contingencies.

Toga pouted, her shoulders slumping in exaggerated disappointment. "But she's so interesting~! And her blood—"

"Is staying inside her body where it belongs," Mr. Compress interrupted firmly. "Unless you'd like to explain to Shigaraki why you jeopardized the entire operation for a taste?"

That shut her up, though the sullen expression on her face suggested she wasn't happy about it.

Dabi's flames gradually subsided, retreating back beneath his skin like reluctant serpents returning to their den. The coffee mug in his hand finally gave up the ghost, cracking completely and spilling lukewarm liquid across his palm. He didn't even flinch, just let the pieces fall to the floor with a dull clatter.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice still carrying an edge of barely suppressed violence. He wiped his hand on his coat, leaving dark stains on the already filthy fabric. "But I'm keeping an eye on those recruited bastards. The second one of them gets any ideas about going after her—"

"You'll turn them into charcoal, yes, we're all aware of your preferred method of conflict resolution," Mr. Compress said dryly. "Just try to be subtle about it. We're supposed to be professionals, after all."

Dabi grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning back toward the wall. His turquoise eyes stared at nothing, but his mind was already racing ahead to the training camp, calculating distances, response times, potential complications.

Those low-level villains better keep their word, he thought darkly, his jaw clenching. Because if any of them so much as breathe wrong in her direction, mission be damned—I'll make sure they regret ever being born.

The hideout fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by Toga's quiet humming and the distant sound of Shigaraki's scratching from the next room. Outside, the sun continued its arc across the sky, counting down the hours until chaos would descend upon an unsuspecting training camp.

And in the shadows, blue eyes watched and waited, already burning with protective fury for a god who probably didn't need protecting at all.

The bus crested the final mountain road at approximately nine in the morning, the engine's rumble giving way to the crisp silence of high altitude. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, the doors hissed open to reveal a vista that stole the breath from even the most jaded students—endless forest stretching toward the horizon like a green ocean, the morning mist still clinging to the valleys below.

But it wasn't the scenery that captured everyone's attention.

Four figures stood at the mountain's edge, their silhouettes backlit by the climbing sun. They struck poses that were somehow both ridiculous and oddly impressive—paws raised, tails swishing, cat ears perked at attention.

"Meow, meow, meow, meow!" they chorused in perfect synchronization, their voices carrying across the mountaintop with practiced enthusiasm.

Y/N, still seated beside Aizawa in the back of the bus, felt her lips twitch upward. Oh, this is going to be entertaining, she thought, her cosmic eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement. Cat-themed heroes. Because of course they are.

The students filed off the bus in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, their backpacks rustling as they assembled in a loose cluster. The mountain air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and morning dew—a stark contrast to the urban sprawl of Musutafu.

Izuku's eyes went wide with recognition, his analytical mind immediately cataloging every detail. His hand shot up reflexively, as if he were still in a classroom, and words tumbled from his mouth with the enthusiasm of a superfan meeting his idols. "Oh my gosh! It's the Wild Wild Pussycats! They're a four-person hero team who specialize in mountain rescue operations! They've been active for twelve years now—no, wait, is it twelve? Or was it—"

"Twelve years?!" Pixie-Bob's cheerful demeanor cracked like thin ice over deep water. In a blur of movement that would have impressed even some pro heroes, she launched herself forward and grabbed Izuku by his head, her fingers digging into his wild green curls with enough force to make him yelp. Her cat-themed mask couldn't hide the dangerous gleam in her eyes. "We're eighteen at heart, you hear me?! Eighteen!"

Oof, Y/N thought, wincing sympathetically from her seat. Someone's sensitive about their age. Can't relate—when you're as old as I am, a few decades are basically a rounding error.

Kaminari and Kirishima exchanged glances, their expressions perfectly synchronized in that way that only close friends could manage. The unspoken communication was clear: This is kind of sad, bro. They both looked away quickly, suddenly finding the forest canopy absolutely fascinating.

Mandalay—the calmer, more composed member of the Pussycats—stepped forward with practiced grace. Her red costume caught the morning light as she gestured toward the sprawling forest below, her voice carrying the authority of someone who'd given this speech many times before. "Welcome to our private training facility, students! You see that building down there?" She pointed to a structure barely visible through the trees at the mountain's base, little more than a speck from this height. "That's the forest lodge where you'll be staying. Your first test is simple—make it there by noon, and you'll get lunch!"

The words hung in the air for exactly two seconds before their implications sank in.

"Wait, that's gotta be at least five miles—" Sero started.

"Through a forest—" Ashido added.

"We can just take the bus, right?" Kaminari asked hopefully, already turning back toward the vehicle.

Several students moved as one, a unified front of teenagers who had suddenly realized they were being played. Their feet carried them back toward the bus with increasing urgency, backpacks bouncing against their shoulders.

Pixie-Bob's grin turned absolutely feral.

"Oh no, you don't, kittens~!" She slammed her gloved hands against the ground, and the earth itself responded to her will. Her Quirk—Earth Flow—activated with a rumble that Y/N could feel even from inside the bus, the vibrations traveling through the vehicle's frame like a living thing.

The ground beneath the students' feet suddenly became liquid, the solid rock flowing like water. Before anyone could react, the entire class was sent tumbling over the mountainside in a cascade of flailing limbs, startled yelps, and creative cursing that would have made their teachers proud—or horrified, depending on the teacher.

"The current time is nine-thirty!" Mandalay called after them cheerfully, her voice carrying down the slope. "You have exactly two and a half hours! Good luck~!"

Bakugo's explosive response echoed up from somewhere in the forest, a string of profanity that made even the birds take flight.

Y/N finally stood, stretching her arms above her head with languid grace. The bus suddenly felt too small, too confining, reality itself seeming to expand slightly to accommodate her divine presence as she moved. Her cosmic eyes tracked the students' descent with casual interest, noting how Midoriya was already analyzing the terrain, how Todoroki had created an ice slide to control his fall, how Bakugo was using explosions to redirect his trajectory.

They'll be fine, she assessed, her divine senses cataloging their energy signatures, their determination, their fear. Scared, but fine. That's how growth happens.

Pixie-Bob turned to her, cat ears perking up with interest. The pro hero's eyes sparkled with mischief as she gestured toward the forest below. "Y/N-sensei! Want to join them down there? Could be fun~! Nothing like a little hands-on supervision!"

Y/N's laugh was like wind chimes in a thunderstorm—beautiful and slightly ominous. She shook her head, white hair catching the sunlight like fresh snow, and jerked her thumb toward the car parked nearby. "Nah, I'm good! I'll take the scenic route with Shota-kun here." She glanced at Aizawa, who had already exited the bus and was making his way toward the vehicle with the determined stride of a man who knew exactly where the coffee was. "Besides, someone needs to make sure he doesn't fall asleep at the wheel. Or in the passenger seat. Or standing up."

"I heard that," Aizawa muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

"You were meant to~!" Y/N called back, her cosmic eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mandalay chuckled, her professional demeanor softening slightly. "Fair enough. Come on then, let's get you two to the lodge." She moved toward the car with the efficient grace of someone who'd made this trip countless times, her red costume swishing with each step. "We can take the access road—much less dramatic than the students' route, but considerably faster."

The car was a sturdy four-wheel-drive vehicle, the kind built for mountain terrain and rough weather. Y/N claimed the back seat, settling in with her suitcase beside her while Aizawa took the passenger seat up front. The interior smelled faintly of pine air freshener and cat fur—an occupational hazard when your hero team was cat-themed, apparently.

Mandalay slid into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors with practiced efficiency before starting the engine. The vehicle rumbled to life, and they began their descent down the winding access road, leaving Pixie-Bob and the other Pussycats to monitor the students' progress through the Beast's Forest.

For a few minutes, only the sound of tires on gravel and the distant calls of mountain birds filled the air. The forest pressed close on either side of the narrow road, ancient trees forming a canopy that dappled the sunlight into shifting patterns across the windshield.

Then Mandalay's eyes found Y/N's in the rearview mirror, curiosity evident in her gaze. "So, Y/N-sensei," she began, her voice carrying genuine interest, "I heard you spent some time in Mustafu recently—well, more recently than usual, I mean. How are you finding it? The city, the school, the students?" She navigated a sharp turn with easy confidence, the car hugging the curve perfectly. "It must be quite different from... wherever it is you usually spend your time."

Ah, the polite interrogation begins, Y/N thought with amusement, though she kept her expression pleasantly neutral. Everyone always wants to know about the mysterious god-teacher. Can't blame them, really.

She leaned back against the seat, her cosmic eyes reflecting the passing scenery in impossible colors. "Musutafu's been interesting," she said, her voice carrying that characteristic blend of sincerity and playfulness. "The city's got good energy—lots of heroes, lots of ambition, lots of really excellent ramen shops." She ticked off points on her fingers as if they were all equally important. "U.A.'s impressive, obviously. The students are..." she paused, her expression softening genuinely, "...they're good kids. Rough around the edges, sure, and some of them have enough trauma to keep a therapist employed for decades, but they've got heart. They want to be heroes for the right reasons, mostly."

Aizawa grunted from the passenger seat, which could have meant anything from agreement to indigestion.

"And the teaching?" Mandalay pressed, genuine curiosity coloring her tone. "I imagine it's quite different from whatever you did before. If you don't mind me asking—what did you do before U.A.?"

Y/N's smile turned mysterious, her eyes glinting with ancient secrets. "Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that. Saved some worlds, destroyed a few threats to reality, attended some truly wild parties in dimensions that don't technically exist anymore." She waved her hand dismissively, as if discussing something as mundane as grocery shopping. "The usual god stuff. Teaching's actually a nice change of pace—lower stakes, mostly. Nobody's trying to unmake existence during homeroom. Usually."

Except for that one time with the reality-warping villain, but we don't talk about that, she added mentally.

Mandalay laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I can imagine! Though I have to say, the students are lucky to have you. It's not every day they get to learn from someone who's literally divine."

"Literally being the operative word," Aizawa muttered, his eyes already half-closed despite the winding road. "She's not metaphorically divine. She's actually a god. Who can turn into Godzilla. And has sorority friends."

"Hey, my sorority sisters are delightful," Y/N protested, though her grin suggested she knew exactly how absurd it sounded. "You'd like them, Mandalay. Very professional. Mostly. When they're not starting interdimensional incidents."

The car rounded another bend, and suddenly the forest lodge came into view through a break in the trees—a sprawling wooden structure that managed to look both rustic and modern, nestled in a clearing with the mountain rising behind it like a protective guardian.

Mandalay guided the vehicle down the final stretch of road, pulling into a small parking area near the lodge's main entrance. As she put the car in park and killed the engine, Y/N's cosmic eyes caught movement near the building's corner.

A small figure stood there, partially hidden in the shadow of the lodge's overhang. A boy, maybe five or six years old, with dark hair and brown eyes that held a weariness no child should possess. He watched their arrival with the kind of bored detachment that spoke of someone who'd seen too many heroes come and go to be impressed anymore.

Well, well, Y/N thought, her divine senses automatically cataloging the boy's energy signature—human, untrained, but with an undercurrent of deep emotional pain that made her ancient heart ache. What's your story, little one?

She reached for her suitcase, her fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of her blindfold tucked inside. For a moment, she hesitated. Her cosmic eyes—these devastating orbs that held galaxies and destruction—had been uncovered for days now, free and unrestricted. It had been... liberating. Refreshing. Like finally taking off shoes that were just slightly too tight.

But looking at that small boy, seeing the wariness in his young eyes, she made a decision.

Her fingers closed around the blindfold, pulling it free from the suitcase with a soft whisper of fabric.

Beside her, Aizawa made a sound—a soft tsk of disappointment that he probably thought was subtle but absolutely wasn't. His dark eyes tracked her movement, his expression shifting into something that might have been regret on a less stoic face.

Y/N's lips curved into a teasing smile as she began wrapping the blindfold around her eyes, the familiar pressure settling across her face like an old friend returning. "Aw, Shota-kun~" she drawled, her voice dropping into that playful register that always made him tense. "Are you disappointed? Did you like seeing my eyes? Should I take this as a confession of some kind?" She tied the blindfold securely, her cosmic vision now filtered through the fabric—still perfectly functional, just less overwhelming for those around her. "Because I have to tell you, I'm very flattered, but I don't date coworkers. It's a whole thing. Very complicated. Lots of paperwork—"

"Shut up," Aizawa muttered, but the tips of his ears had gone slightly pink, visible even beneath his dark hair. He turned away quickly, suddenly finding the lodge's architecture absolutely fascinating.

Got him, Y/N thought with satisfaction, her grin widening beneath the blindfold.

Mandalay's laugh filled the car, bright and unrestrained. She reached over and patted Aizawa's shoulder with the familiarity of someone who'd known him long enough to recognize his tells. "Oh my god, Shota, you're blushing! That's adorable!"

"I am not—" Aizawa started, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that usually preceded his capture weapon coming out.

"You totally are~!" Y/N sang, already opening her door and stepping out into the mountain air. The breeze immediately caught her white hair, making it dance around her shoulders like living silk. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me! Probably! Maybe! We'll see!"

Aizawa's groan of frustration followed her out of the car.

The three of them approached the lodge, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The boy—still watching from his position near the corner—didn't move, but his brown eyes tracked their approach with the intensity of a small predator evaluating potential threats.

Mandalay's expression softened as they drew closer, her professional hero demeanor giving way to something more familial. "Kota," she called gently, her voice warm with affection. "Come say hello. These are the teachers from U.A. who'll be helping with the training camp."

The boy—Kota—didn't move immediately. His small hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his posture radiating a defensive wariness that made Y/N's divine heart ache with recognition. She'd seen that look before, in countless beings across countless worlds—the look of someone who'd been hurt and had decided that not caring was safer than hoping.

Finally, with the reluctance of someone approaching a dentist's office, Kota shuffled forward. His brown eyes swept across the three adults, lingering on Y/N's blindfold with obvious curiosity before moving to Aizawa's capture weapon and finally to Mandalay's concerned expression.

"Kota, this is Eraserhead—Aizawa-sensei—and this is Y/N-sensei," Mandalay introduced, gesturing to each of them in turn. Her voice carried a note of gentle encouragement, as if trying to coax a skittish animal into trusting. "They're both pro heroes and teachers at U.A. High School. They'll be staying here for the training camp."

Kota's expression didn't change. If anything, it grew more closed off, his small jaw setting in a stubborn line that Y/N recognized all too well.

Then he looked directly at Y/N, his brown eyes meeting where her cosmic gaze would be behind the blindfold, and spoke with the blunt honesty that only children could manage. "I hate heroes."

The words hung in the mountain air like a challenge.

Aizawa tensed slightly, his capture weapon shifting against his neck. Mandalay's expression flickered with pain and apology, her mouth opening to reprimand or explain or apologize—

Y/N laughed.

Not a mocking laugh, or a dismissive one, but a genuine sound of delighted agreement that made even Kota's eyes widen slightly in surprise. She crouched down, bringing herself closer to his eye level, her blindfolded face tilting with that characteristic playful curiosity. The movement was fluid, graceful, utterly unthreatening—the body language of someone who understood that sometimes the smallest beings needed to feel big.

"You know what, kid?" she said, her voice carrying warmth and understanding and zero judgment. "I get it. Heroes can be pretty annoying sometimes." She held up her hand, ticking off points on her fingers as if listing completely reasonable grievances. "They're loud, they're flashy, they break stuff and call it 'collateral damage,' they give speeches when you just want them to do something already—" She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. "And between you and me? Some of them have terrible fashion sense. Like, truly tragic. I've seen villains with better costume design."

Behind her, Aizawa's eye twitched. "I'm standing right here."

"I know, Shota-kun! Your capture weapon is very practical! Very... beige!" Y/N called back without turning around, her attention still focused on Kota.

The corner of Kota's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. The wariness in his eyes hadn't disappeared, but it had shifted slightly, curiosity beginning to peek through the defensive walls.

Mandalay stared at Y/N with an expression caught between horror and reluctant amusement. "Y/N-sensei, you're not supposed to agree with him—"

"Why not?" Y/N straightened, her cosmic senses reading the subtle relaxation in Kota's small shoulders, the way his hands had loosened slightly in his pockets. "He's not wrong. Heroes can be annoying. They can also be brave, and kind, and self-sacrificing, and all those other good things—but that doesn't mean they're not also sometimes annoying." She shrugged, the gesture somehow both casual and carrying the weight of divine wisdom. "People are complicated. Even heroes. Especially heroes, actually."

Kota studied her for a long moment, his brown eyes searching her blindfolded face as if trying to determine whether she was mocking him or being genuine. Whatever he saw—or sensed—must have satisfied him, because he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"You're weird," he declared, which coming from a six-year-old was basically a compliment.

"Thank you!" Y/N beamed, taking it as exactly that. "I try very hard to be weird. It's one of my best qualities!"

Mandalay sighed, though her expression had softened considerably. She gestured toward the lodge's entrance, her professional demeanor reasserting itself. "Why don't you two head inside and get settled? The students should be arriving in..." she checked her watch, "...about an hour and a half, if they're making good time. Your rooms are on the second floor—I'll show you up."

"Actually," Y/N said, her blindfolded face turning toward Kota with that characteristic tilt of curiosity, "would you mind showing me around, Kota? I'm terrible with directions—I once got lost in a building that only had three rooms. True story. Very embarrassing. Could use a guide who knows the place."

Lie, her divine consciousness supplied helpfully. You have perfect spatial awareness and could navigate this entire mountain range blindfolded. Which you technically are.

Shush, she told herself. I'm making a point.

Kota's eyes widened slightly, surprise breaking through his careful mask of indifference. "You... want me to show you around?"

"If you're not busy," Y/N said casually, as if she were asking the most natural thing in the world. "I mean, if you've got important six-year-old business to attend to, I understand. Very demanding schedule at that age. Lots of... what do kids do these days? TikTok? Is that still a thing? I'm very old and out of touch."

Despite himself, Kota's lips twitched into something that was almost, almost a smile. "I'm not six. I'm five."

"Oh, my apologies! Five! That's a very important distinction. Completely different age bracket. My mistake."

This time, Kota definitely smiled—small, brief, but genuine. "Fine," he said, trying to sound reluctant but not quite managing it. "I guess I can show you around. But only because Aunt Mandalay would make me anyway."

"Of course," Y/N agreed solemnly. "Purely obligatory. No actual desire to help the weird blindfolded lady. I understand completely."

Mandalay watched this exchange with an expression of dawning wonder, her eyes moving between Y/N and her nephew as if witnessing something miraculous. Kota hadn't smiled—hadn't really smiled—since his parents died. And here was this strange, powerful, blindfolded god-woman making him crack jokes within five minutes of meeting him.

Aizawa, for his part, simply observed with his characteristic stoic expression, though his dark eyes held a glimmer of something that might have been approval. Or surprise. With Aizawa, it was always hard to tell.

"Well then," Mandalay said softly, her voice thick with emotion she was trying to hide, "I'll leave you two to it. Kota, show Y/N-sensei where everything is, okay? And be polite."

"I'm always polite," Kota muttered, which was such an obvious lie that even he didn't seem to believe it.

Y/N and Kota began walking side by side toward the lodge's entrance, an odd pair—the tall, blindfolded god-woman with her sleek suitcase and the small, wary boy with his hands in his pockets. Behind them, Mandalay and Aizawa watched, their expressions thoughtful.

"She's good with kids," Pixie-Bob's voice came from behind them, making both heroes jump slightly. The cat-themed hero had apparently finished setting up the forest course and had returned just in time to witness the interaction. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she watched Y/N and Kota disappear into the lodge. "Like, really good. Natural talent for it."

Aizawa grunted in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the doorway where they'd vanished. "She understands them," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of respect. "Doesn't talk down to them. Doesn't try to force them to be something they're not." He paused, then added with the faintest hint of warmth, "It's... effective."

"Mmm-hmm," Pixie-Bob hummed, her grin turning absolutely wicked as she elbowed Mandalay conspiratorially. "And Aizawa-sensei here was blushing earlier when she teased him about her blindfold! It was adorable!"

Aizawa's face immediately went blank—that special kind of blank that meant he was internally screaming. "I was not—"

"You totally were!" Mandalay laughed, the sound bright and teasing. She patted his shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Don't worry, Shota. Your secret's safe with us! Probably! Maybe! We'll see!"

"I hate both of you," Aizawa muttered, but there was no real heat in his voice. He turned and stalked toward the lodge with as much dignity as he could muster, his capture weapon trailing behind him like a sulking cat's tail.

Behind him, Pixie-Bob and Mandalay's laughter echoed across the mountain clearing, bright and warm in the morning sun.

Inside the lodge, Y/N and Kota walked side by side down a hallway that smelled of pine wood and fresh linens. The building was surprisingly spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in generous amounts of natural light. Their footsteps—hers silent despite her boots, his small and deliberate—created a comfortable rhythm.

"So," Kota said after a moment of silence, his voice carrying that careful curiosity of a child testing boundaries, "why do you wear that blindfold? Are your eyes messed up or something?"

Direct. I like it, Y/N thought, her lips curving into an approving smile. No dancing around the question, just straight to the point.

"Nope, my eyes work perfectly fine," she said cheerfully, her blindfolded face turning toward him. "Actually, they work too well. They're very powerful—like, 'can see through walls and into people's souls and maybe accidentally destroy things if I'm not careful' powerful. The blindfold helps me control that power and also makes other people less nervous around me." She paused, then added with theatrical seriousness, "Plus, it makes me look mysterious and cool. Very important for the whole 'god-teacher' aesthetic I've got going on."

Kota processed this for a moment, his brown eyes studying her with that intense focus children had when trying to determine if an adult was lying. "That's actually kind of cool," he admitted reluctantly. "Better than most hero gimmicks."

"Right?! Thank you! Finally, someone who appreciates my fashion choices!"

They turned a corner, and Kota pointed to a door on the left. "That's the kitchen. Aunt Mandalay makes really good food, but Pixie-Bob burns everything. Don't let her cook."

"Noted. Pixie-Bob is banned from kitchen duty. Got it."

"And that's the common room," he continued, gesturing to a large open space with comfortable-looking couches and a TV. "The students will probably hang out there. It gets loud."

"I bet. Teenagers are basically just noise machines with legs."

Kota's lips twitched again—that almost-smile that was becoming more frequent. "The bathroom's down there, and the training rooms are in the basement. Your room is upstairs, second door on the right."

They climbed the stairs together, Y/N's divine senses mapping every inch of the building automatically while she maintained the appearance of needing Kota's guidance. The second floor was quieter, more private, with several doors leading to what were presumably bedrooms.

"This is yours," Kota said, stopping in front of the second door. He hesitated, then asked with studied casualness, "Are you really a god? Like, for real?"

Y/N crouched down again, bringing herself to his eye level. Her blindfolded face tilted with that characteristic warmth, and when she spoke, her voice carried absolute sincerity. "For real. I'm very old, very powerful, and I can turn into a giant lizard that breathes atomic fire. But you know what?" She reached out and gently tapped his forehead with one finger—a gesture that somehow conveyed both playfulness and genuine affection. "That doesn't make me better than you, or smarter than you, or more important than you. It just makes me different. And different isn't better or worse. It's just... different."

Kota stared at her for a long moment, his brown eyes wide and thoughtful. Then, in a voice so quiet she almost didn't hear it, he said, "My parents were heroes. They died."

Ah, Y/N thought, her ancient heart clenching with understanding. There it is. The source of all that pain.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, because sometimes simple was best. "That sucks. Really, genuinely sucks. And I bet people keep telling you they died doing something heroic, something noble, something that mattered—and that's supposed to make it hurt less, right?"

Kota nodded, his small jaw clenching.

"Well, that's bullshit," Y/N said bluntly, and Kota's eyes widened at hearing an adult curse so casually. "It doesn't matter how noble or heroic it was. They're still gone, and you're still here without them, and that hurts. And you're allowed to be angry about it. You're allowed to hate heroes for it. You're allowed to feel however you feel."

Tears were gathering in Kota's eyes now, his small hands clenched into fists. "Everyone keeps saying I should be proud," he whispered, his voice breaking. "That I should want to be a hero like them. But I don't. I just want them back."

"Of course you do," Y/N said softly, her voice carrying the weight of eons of understanding. "That's the most natural thing in the world. And anyone who tells you otherwise is an idiot." She paused, then added gently, "But Kota? Your parents loved you. I can tell, even without having met them. And they wouldn't want you to carry all this anger forever. Not because it's wrong—anger isn't wrong—but because it's heavy. And you're too small to carry something that heavy all by yourself."

A single tear rolled down Kota's cheek, and before Y/N could react, the small boy suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her neck in a fierce hug. His small body shook with suppressed sobs, years of grief finally finding a safe place to emerge.

Y/N's arms came up automatically, wrapping around the small boy with infinite gentleness. Her divine power—that vast, cosmic force that could level mountains—was carefully, perfectly controlled, offering nothing but warmth and safety and the promise that he wasn't alone.

"It's okay," she murmured, one hand gently patting his back. "Let it out, kiddo. I've got you. And I'm a god, remember? I'm not going anywhere."

They stayed like that for several minutes, a god and a grieving child, while the mountain sunlight streamed through the windows and painted everything in shades of gold.

Finally, Kota pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes with his small fists. His face was blotchy and his nose was running, but his expression was lighter somehow—as if a weight he'd been carrying had lessened, just a little.

"Don't tell anyone I cried," he mumbled, trying to sound tough and failing adorably.

"Your secret's safe with me," Y/N promised solemnly, holding out her pinky. "Pinky swear. And gods never break pinky swears. It's like, a cosmic law or something."

Kota linked his pinky with hers, a small smile finally breaking through. "You're weird," he said again, but this time it was definitely a compliment.

"And you're pretty cool yourself, kid," Y/N replied, standing and ruffling his hair gently. "Now, I should probably unpack before those noisy teenagers show up. But hey—if you ever want to talk, or just hang out, or need someone to tell you that heroes are annoying, you know where to find me, okay?"

Kota nodded, his brown eyes still a bit red but infinitely warmer than they'd been an hour ago. "Okay," he said quietly. Then, even more quietly, "Thanks, Y/N-sensei."

"Anytime, kiddo. Anytime."

Kota turned and headed back down the hallway, his small footsteps lighter than before. Y/N watched him go, her divine senses tracking his energy signature until he disappeared around the corner.

Good kid, she thought, finally opening her door and stepping into her room. Hurting, but good. He'll be okay. Eventually.

The room was simple but comfortable—a bed, a desk, a window overlooking the forest. Y/N set her suitcase down and moved to the window, her blindfolded face turning toward the vast expanse of green below.

Somewhere out there, her students were fighting their way through the Beast's Forest, growing stronger with every challenge. And somewhere beyond that, villains were planning, scheming, preparing to strike.

But for now, in this moment, there was just the mountain air, the sunlight, and the quiet satisfaction of having helped one small boy carry his grief a little easier.

Y/N smiled, her cosmic power humming contentedly beneath her skin.

Yeah, she thought, settling in to wait for the chaos to come. This is going to be a fun summer.