The sun bore down on you as if it had a will of its own, and with a sigh, you acknowledged the day's oppressive heat.

Wandering in full armor under such a scorching sun was inadvisable.

You moved past the line of trees and soon after, the prestigious U.A. High came into view. This bastion of heroism was one of the most renowned schools in Japan. Though you had only been here for about a year, even your limited knowledge of the country told you volumes about the significance of this institution.

U.A. High was a forge for rebellious spirits and promised greatness. You couldn't help but smile—a gesture hidden beneath your helmet.

Strapped to your back was a jetpack and draped over your shoulders, a green and black cape billowed softly. You were also armed with a flamethrower—a bit excessive for some, but as a Mandalorian on the run, you understood that the world wasn't above lethal intentions.

Your tinted T-shaped visor scanned over feet that should have been behind closed gates; but to you, they weren't.

You spotted a group of teenagers, no older than yourself, huddled around a tall, lean man dressed in black. He was speaking, and your encapsulated senses picked up on his words, "Try to throw this with your quirk, just stay within the circle."

A peppy blonde approached the teacher, took the ball into his  hands, and walked over to a white circle drawn in the sand. You titled your head, curious, before stealthily moving closer, silent as a whisper.

None noticed you until you stood right behind them.

The boy who had received the ball leaned back, arm stretching behind him. Then sparks flew from his hands, and a massive explosion ensued, blasting your cape backward and catapulting the ball a considerable distance.

A smile crept on your face, hidden from all.

This is going to be interesting.

The black-haired teacher nodded and presented some kind of datapad to the students.

The readout was impressive: well over seven hundred meters. At first, the students were excited to participate until the teacher spoke again: "Oh, funny you should say that, what about this? The one who comes last and scores the least will be expelled," he said.

"Hah? That's not fair!" protested a brown-haired girl adorned with red squares, and you quietly sighed. "The world is far from fair, young lady," your interjection made everyone turn, forcing the teacher to raise an eyebrow. "Who are you?" he asked.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your own eyes hidden behind the visor.

"I don't go around telling my name to people, but since I'll be staying here, you might call me Mando," you offered. The man blinked. "Just Mando?" he inquired, to which you nodded. "Yes, that's what others call me when they don't know my real name, and maybe one day you'll earn my trust and the right to call me by it."

"What are you doing here?" a student with heterochromatic eyes inquired.

You glanced at him. "Don't know, just stumbled upon U.A. Wanted somewhere safe from hunters," you casually mentioned, which made the students turn and Aizawa approach you. You were younger than him, but not shorter.

"What is your quirk?" he probed, and you smirked beneath your helmet replying, "I don't know; I've never manifested anything."

"What makes you think you'll survive here, then?" he pressed.

That made you smile, and with a flick of your wrist, a dagger suddenly pressed against the man's neck, the blade barely grazing the odd white cloth he wore.

"Because," you leaned closer, your hips swaying forward, "you should never underestimate a Mandalorian."