The moment Shizoku entered Class 1-A, the air shifted. Eyes turned toward her, but she didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, didn't look away. Instead, she strode to an empty seat on the back of the class, her hands still in her pockets, and dropped into it without a word. But even as she settled, she could feel it.
The weight of their stares. From the front, Midoriya eyed her cautiously, fingers tapping against his desk. He had seen her during the exam—observing, analyzing, like she was picking apart everything in her mind. But now… Now, something felt off.
It wasn't just the way she walked, or the way her gaze lingered a little too long on everyone like she was sizing them up. It was her eyes, no longer mismatched—both now glowed crimson. As if she were a different person entirely. Midoriya swallowed. "What happened to her?"
A few seats over, Bakugo clicked his tongue. "Tch. What's with this stupid girl?"
He wasn't stupid. He felt it too, something about her presence grated on him. Not in a way that made him think she was weak—no, if anything, she felt like a caged beast. A predator waiting for the right moment to sink its teeth into something. And Bakugo didn't like it. Not one bit. "She better not get in my damn way."
His gaze flicked to Midoriya, who was still staring, his brows slightly furrowed. And that made Bakugo's scowl deepen. "The hell is that look, Deku?"
Before he could say anything, Aizawa's dry voice cut through the air.
"Alright, listen up."
The class immediately straightened as their homeroom teacher stood at the front, his expression blank.
"Change into your gym uniforms and meet me outside. We're doing a Quirk Apprehension Test." There were several audible gasps at that.
"Aren't we supposed to have an orientation?" a student asked hesitantly. Aizawa blinked slowly.
"I don't do orientations."
Shizoku growled. "I hate exercises."
Minutes later, the class stood on the open field in their gym uniforms. Shizoku stretched lazily, cracking her neck, her crimson eyes gleaming under the sunlight. Aizawa stood before them, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Physical fitness tests where you weren't allowed to use your Quirks. You kids have been doing these since junior high too, right?"
Aizawa slowly explained and took out his phone that displayed a series of lists of common sports in high schools, his eyes like a hawk observing the other students. And of course mostly Shizoku. "The country still uses averages taken from results from students not using their Quirks. It's not rational."
"Well, the Ministry of Education is procrastinating."
"You scored the highest in the entrance exam, right?" Aizawa suddenly changed the subject and looked towards Bakugo, a hot-tempered boy with hair like the skin of a durian. "In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?"
"67 meters."
"Then, try doing it with your Quirk."
"You can do whatever you want as long as you stay in the circle." Aizawa stated. He pulled a softball from his capture weapon and tossed it toward Bakugo. "Throw this. Use your Quirk. Show me what you've got."
"Then well...." Bakugo muttered and stretched his arm muscles a bit before getting into a throwing position. Shizoku watched, arms folded, as the blonde cocked his arm back, his palm already crackling with heat. "DIE!"
The explosion sent the ball soaring. The class stared in awe as the device in Aizawa's hand beeped.
Aizawa lowered the device.
"That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."
705.2 meters
Gasps filled the air. "Whoa!" Kirishima gaped. "That's insane!" Shizoku whistled when she saw the ball go quite far but was not impressed so she just crossed her arms and stood yawning.
"705 meters? Seriously?"
"What's this? It looks fun!"
"We can use our Quirks as much as we want! As expected from the hero course!"
Excitement buzzed in the air. The class was practically thrumming with energy, thrilled at the thought of finally using their Quirks without restraint. Some students stretched, eager to test themselves. Others grinned in anticipation, already imagining the ways they'd dominate the tests. But just as the momentum peaked—Aizawa shut it down.
" 'It looks fun,' huh?"his dry voice cut through the air. The students fell silent, looking up at him. "You have three years to become a hero. Will you have an attitude like that the whole time."
Aizawa's eyes scanned the group, but a sly smirk appeared at the edge of his mouth, his posture as lazy as ever—but his words carried weight.
"All right. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential and will be punished with expulsion." he said, calmly, and the scariest part that his tone never shifted.
"HUH!?"A heavy, stunning silence dropped over the class. The atmosphere shifted heavily. Excitement snuffed out with eyes widened, mouths fell slightly open.
Shock. Dread. Realization.
Aizawa pushed up his bangs to reveal his eyes which had a bit of dark circles but couldn't hide their sharpness and ruthlessness, the curl of his mouth even his words affirmed that he would expel the person ranked last. "Welcome to U.A's hero course!"
"W-Wait, what?" a student stammered.
"Last place will be expelled?" Ochaco gasped. "That's unfair!" she blurted, unable to hold back. "But it's the first day of school! No, even if it wasn't the first day of school, this is too unfair!"
Aizawa barely blinked.
"Natural disasters, big accidents and selfish villains." he stated, his voice devoid of sympathy. The words landed heavy, and he didn't let them settle. He continued to explain in his own style, straightforward and with only the truth in his words. "Calamities whose time or place can't be predicted. Japan is covered with unfairness."
"Heroes are the ones who reverse those situations. If you wanted to go talk with your friends at Mickey D's after school, too bad." A few students shifted uncomfortably, Ochaco bit her lip, eyes darting to Midoriya, who looked pale. For some, the reality of U.A had just set in. This wasn't a game, there was no safety net. You rise—or you're out. "For the next three years, U.A will do all it can to give you one hardship after another."
"Go beyond. Plus Ultra." Aizawa continued to provoke the students' aggressiveness with his provocative words and wagging index finger. "Overcome it with all you've got."
Behind them all, arms crossed, half-lidded crimson eyes gleaming—Shizoku yawned. She stretched, rolling her shoulders like she was already bored. "This is just a pain."
Physical tests? Running, throwing, jumping? She hated P.E. more than anything in this world. She wasn't here to prove she could run a five-second dash or some useless crap like that.
No, no, no. She was here for one reason: To watch. To see Shion struggle. To push her further. To see how far she could go before she snapped. Because whether Shion liked it or not, they had already stepped onto this stage. They had chosen to play their roles.
A Hero?
A Villain?
None of it mattered. Not really, because in the end, it wasn't about titles. It was about who was strong enough to survive. And that was something Shizoku intended to find out.
"Go beyond. Plus Ultra."
"Overcome it will all you've got." Shizoku's crimson eyes flickered when she heard those words, for a moment, she said nothing. But deep inside, something stirred.
Go beyond? Overcome it?
How ironic.
That's what she'd been doing her whole life. Overcoming. Surviving. Tearing her way forward. No one had ever needed to tell her that. Not her parents. Not the heroes. Not even Aizawa. She had clawed her way through hell without anyone's encouragement. And yet, something about the way he said it…
Something about the way his sharp eyes locked onto her, like he actually meant those words—It bothered her.
Tch.
She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck, forcing herself to shrug it off. "Tch. Fine, Eraserhead. Let's see if these brats have got anything worth watching." A smirk curled at her lips as she stepped forward. Whatever, she'd play along.
Well, for now tho.
Shizoku moved through the exercises with an almost lazy ease. She followed along, arms crossed behind her head, barely putting effort into the drills. Agility test? A casual flick of her body. Grip strength? Her fingers barely twitched, yet the device cracked slightly under her grip. She was faster than most, sharper than all, and still—it was dull.
She didn't need to try. There was no thrill in competing when there was no real challenge. The others were sweating, struggling, pushing their limits. She didn't care, well not long enough until the pitching test. When the ball was placed in her palm, she rolled it between her fingers, crimson eyes narrowing as she stepped forward. A test of raw force? Fine. Might as well break the monotony.
A flicker of tension in her shoulders. A steady exhale.
Then—she threw it with her Quirk. Ruthless and brutal, just like a female version of Bakugo. The ball cut through the air like a cannon blast, disappearing into the sky, beyond the reach of their tracking device. A muted silence followed before the device registered a score that left the others gaping. She turned on her heel, mocking yawn, arms folding across her chest. "That all?"
The murmurs started immediately, but she ignored them. This test wasn't worth her attention. But then—Midoriya stepped up.
At first, she didn't care. But then—his hesitation. The way his grip tightened around the ball, the way his feet shifted uneasily, like he was battling something unseen. The moment he threw—Nothing.
46 meters.
No power. No force. Just an ordinary throw that barely scraped a fraction of the distances recorded before him. Shizoku's amusement died. With his messy black hair floating in the air along with his capture weapon, his lifeless black eyes had now turned bright red with an angry and determined expression, Aizawa's voice, calm and cold, filled the silence. "I erased your Quirk, that entrance exam was definitely not rational enough."
"Even a kid like you was accepted."
"You erased my Quirk?" Midoriya stuttered. Shizoku observed him, tilting her head slightly. His hands trembled. Midoriya realized something as he continued to observe Aizawa. "Those goggles... I see! You can erase other people's Quirks with your Quirk just by looking at them. The Erasure Hero: Eraser Head!"
"From what I can tell, you can't control your Quirk, can you?" Aizawa put his hands in his pockets and frowned as he watched Midoriya, who still hadn't stopped using his Quirk on Izuku. "Do you intend to becom incapacitated again and have someone save you?"
"Th-That's not my intention—"
"Whatever your intention, I'm saying that's what those around you will be forced to do." The captured scarf interrupted Midoriya's words by wrapping around him and pulling him closer in front of Midoriya. He was even more trembling and afraid under the pressure from Aizawa, his homeroom teacher who was also one of the Pro Heroes that Izuku admired. "In the past, there was an appressively passionate Hero who saved over a thousand people by himself and created a legend."
"Even if you have the same reckless valor, you'll just be decked and turn into a useless doll after saving one person." Aizawa said sarcastically but there was also a bit of pure admiration in it. He glanced at All Might hiding behind the tool shed nearby, watching and was quite nervous when he read the information about Aizawa when he had expelled more than 100 students. "Izuku Midoriya. With your power, you can't become a Hero."
Aizawa's words were like knives punching straight into Midoriya's heart, painful but it was an undeniable truth. There was no sugarcoating or consolation, only harsh reality, but perhaps Midoriya didn't realize that Aizawa was implying that Izuku should find a new way to use his power without being reckless and minimizing the amount of damage to his body.
"I've returned your Quirk, you have two turns for the ball throw. Hurry up and get it over with." Aizawa's captivating scarf slowly released Midoriya and Aizawa also dispelled his Quirk, returning to his usual tired and depressed appearance as he stayed away from where Midoriya performed the throwing test.
Midoriya stared blankly at the ground and muttered to himself what he should do. Even so Shizoku noticed that there was something about the way his shoulders locked, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.
A storm raging inside her mind.
It was a scene she'd seen before—someone standing at the edge of an abyss, staring into the void of their own weakness.
Pathetic.
That was the first thing that came to mind as Shizoku watched Midoriya struggle. A boy standing in the shadow of giants, crushed by his own weakness, trembling beneath the weight of his own expectations. He was reckless, hopelessly so.
Just like her.
Her amusement twisted into something bitter. Shion had been the same. Pathetic and reckless. A fool who threw herself into things she had no business being a part of—just like when she had fought All Might. Just like when she chose to save those people.
Shizoku's fingers curled, the fabric of her sleeve jacket tightening in her grip.
"If Shion hadn't saved them, they wouldn't be in this hellish place. They wouldn't have been captured. Wouldn't have been locked away. Wouldn't have been dragged into this ridiculous trial of heroism."
Would that have been better? A hollow chuckle echoed in the back of her mind.
No.
Because Shion was always like this. When she was determined to do something, her body reacted first. No hesitation. No doubt.
Just like in that nightmare.
Shizoku inhaled sharply, something cold crawling up her spine. That moment. When Shion refused to sink, when she clawed her way out, when she chose to live. Even when the rest of her mind—Shizoku herself—wanted to pull her down.
"Why do you keep resisting?"
She had whispered that in the dream, as the faceless form of herself tried to drag Shion under.
"Why do you keep fighting?"
But Shion did. Every damn time. And now, as she watched Midoriya straighten his spine, grip the ball, and set his stance, she saw the same foolish determination in his eyes. Shizoku clenched her jaw, shifting her weight.
She didn't like it. Didn't like how familiar it felt. Didn't like how it made her remember. And yet she still watched.
Because sometimes…
Idiots could be interesting.