Today marks the day when Izuku Midoriya will finally take the entrance exam at U.A. School, a milestone that has been ten months in the making, since the last time we had the pleasure of his company. Not that I don't see him daily, as I have the privilege of witnessing his tireless training regimen. I am eagerly anticipating the opportunity to witness him in action. All Might's words of caution still linger in my mind: "Keep a low profile," he reminded me, as one not yet recognized as a prominent Pro Hero, I must be mindful of the fans' fervor, lest they become too enthusiastic. After he shared his sentiments, I found myself sitting on a rock, meditating with my mind's eye, attempting to discern the intricacies of Izuku's mental state.

As I sat in quiet contemplation, a rustling in the nearby brush caught my attention, alerting me to the presence of another. I lifted my gaze to behold a pair of piercing brown eyes, their irises suddenly flashing open, as if awakened by some unseen force. A new, unfamiliar energy seemed to emanate from the vicinity, and I followed the trajectory of a fleeting, crimson-colored aura as it sliced across the sky. My gaze then settled upon a majestic figure, its wings beating the air as it descended towards me, its plumage a fiery red hue. A red feather, now fluttering gently towards the ground, served as a beacon, drawing my attention to the individual. My brow furrowed in surprise, for I was all too familiar with the fame and reputation of the person who bore such an emblem: Hawks, the Third Pro Hero in the world, renowned for his extraordinary abilities and unyielding dedication.

I smiled, a hint of warmth creeping onto my lips, as I thought to myself, Not very subtle, Hawks, dear. The unspoken words hung in the air, a gentle reprimand for the Pro Hero's bold arrival. I then returned to my meditative state, focusing my mind's eye once more on the mysteries of Izuku's mental state.

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A piercing pang wrestled through me, and I nearly succumbed to the agony before doubling over, clutching my head, where my dark locks lay sprawled. What in the world is besetting me?! I shrieked, shaking my head in desperation. I'm not sure what's happening to me, I thought wildly. I'd better go and check on him.

I stood up, smoothing down my dark robes, and without thinking, I sprinted out to the city, weaving through alleys and jumping over startled people. Soon enough, I arrived at the unsightly U.A. High School, where the sun glinted off the paneled windows. I let out a low breath and was about to approach the entrance when a wall nearly sliced my nose off. I was, of course, a bit annoyed, thinking that nothing is ever easy. I sighed and looked up at the big wall made of slabs of stone and iron. It was difficult to scale, and it would be hard to slice a saber through that; it would elevate the school's vulnerability. I need to find another way; what did Obi-Wan or even Anakin teach me about sneaking into these things? Hmm...

Then, I allowed the Force to guide me, closing my eyes and feeling its energy direct me to a different location within the school's system. I slipped through a strange hole, unnoticed by alarms or cameras, and disappeared from view. I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction and happiness.

"A moment ago, I didn't think you were here," a gruff voice said, and I jerked my head up to behold a slender and statuesque figure, pale-skinned with messy, shoulder-length black hair that partially obscured his face, and half-opened black eyes that seemed to gaze into the distance. He wore a baggy black ensemble, consisting of a long-sleeved shirt and matching pants that were tucked into his boots. A utility belt encircled his waist, and a signature wrap scarf added a touch of flair to his overall demeanor.

I smiled, recognizing the individual, and said, "Mr. Eraserhead, I see you've returned." I bowed my head slightly, acknowledging his presence. You didn't think you'd see this particular hero around here, but All Might had mentioned that some of his peers would be taking on teaching roles at U.A. High. It's quite advanced, if you ask me; Anakin was nearly a teacher, and he was, after all, the Chosen One.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his black eyes narrowing slightly, almost disappearing. I smiled, shaking my head. "Not really, no. I've not made the papers yet. I'm the Force Hero: Steadfast Luminary." Your eyes flashed once, and I knew he recognized me, as his Force signature cooled a bit. "I see," he said coolly. "Then, Miss Luminary, I must ask you to wait outside. No one except the school's workers are allowed in here, of course, including the students."

 Eraser Head, with his signature stern expression, hummed a tune under his breath, a habit that many found peculiar. Amidst the flurry of students preparing for the upcoming exams, one particularly observant student couldn't help but comment.

"Not heard that one before," they remarked, catching Eraser Head's attention. "He's one of the students at the entrance, isn't he? What do you want with him?"

Eraser Head regarded the inquirer with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "I believe that it's up to me to know, Mr. Eraser Head. You're not his teacher," the student retorted boldly, tilting their head in defiance.

Aizawa, unimpressed, let out a snort. "I will perhaps be his teacher if Nezu has his way. Now, please, do what has to be done and leave. I'll send him a notice that you wish to see him after the exam, if that pleases you."

"I can't do that, I've told you," she reiterated firmly, her voice carrying a weight of determination. Drawing herself up to her full height, she stood before Aizawa, a young woman not much older than him, yet possessing a resolve that belied her years. At just 23, she had already weathered her fair share of challenges and emerged stronger for it.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed to slits as he sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a heavy burden. His hand instinctively moved to his signature scarf, a reflex born of years of combat experience. But before he could even think of using it, something inexplicable seized him, lifting him off the ground with a vice-like grip that constricted his airway, choking him.

"W-what... what are you doing?!" he managed to sputter out amidst his struggle for breath, panic rising in his chest.

Nara, with a contemptuous snort, remained unfazed by his distress. "Doing what should be done, darling," she remarked coolly, her actions betraying a ruthless determination.

With a swift and decisive motion, she hurled Aizawa against the gate, not with enough force to break his back but certainly with enough to render him unconscious. As he crumpled to the ground, defeated and incapacitated, she slipped past the remaining security measures with an ease that spoke volumes of her skill and determination. None could hope to stop her, not when her singular focus was on reaching Izuku.