"THE RESULTS OF THE FINAL EXAM ARE OUT," Mr. Akimichi announced, folding his papers with a sense of finality. "They are ranked based on the entire school's standings. All the first years are ranked in this list."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the class, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was one thing to get a low score in class—another entirely to have those scores displayed for the entire school to see, in big, bold letters. The pressure was palpable.

Amidst the commotion, you remained in your usual spot, arms folded on your desk as you dozed off, oblivious to the announcement. The world around you faded, and only the warmth of your arms under your head kept you grounded in a small cocoon of peace.

Shoto's gaze lingered on you, ignoring the chatter and the tension that filled the room. He studied your serene expression, the way a lock of your white hair brushed against your cheek. In his mind, you were utterly captivating, your presence an unspoken comfort in the chaos of his own thoughts.

Your white hair always seemed impossibly soft, like silk woven from moonlight. Your skin was luminous, delicate and smooth, a stark contrast to his own scarred features. And your blue eyes—those eyes that could be as calm as a still pond or as fierce as a raging ocean—haunted him in the best way.

He couldn't help but think how lucky he was to be able to watch you like this, even if you didn't know the depth of his feelings. He felt an inexplicable pull toward you, a gravity that made it impossible to look away.

To him, you were the most beautiful part of his world, even when you were simply napping through class. Aizawa [Name], you had become the love of his life, even if he could barely say it out loud to himself.

As Mr. Akimichi's voice droned on about the rankings, Shoto found himself wishing he could be the one to share in your peaceful moments, to be the one you turned to when you woke up from your naps, and to protect that calm expression from anything that might disrupt it.

For now, he'd settle for admiring you from afar, but he couldn't shake the growing desire to get closer, to have you see him the way he saw you.

Soon, the classroom erupted with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as students rushed out to check the results posted at the main entrance. The sudden commotion jolted you awake, your head snapping up from your folded arms on the desk. You blinked sleepily, your gaze darting around the emptying room.

"Is class already over?" you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as you glanced over at Shoto. He let out a small chuckle at your drowsy state, his eyes softening.

"Yes, they all went to the results board to check it out," he replied, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

"Then what are we waiting for?" you asked, a grin spreading across your face as you leapt to your feet. Grabbing Shoto's arm without a second thought, you dragged him along with you, weaving through the stream of students.

When you both finally reached the board, a large crowd had gathered, buzzing with excitement and nerves. The rankings of all 150 first-year students were displayed, the list towering above everyone in bold letters. You scanned the board quickly, searching for your name among the sea of others.

"Ah, well, it can't be helped," you said with a satisfied smile as your eyes landed on your name at the very top—Aizawa [Name]: 500/500. The perfect score gleamed beside your name, drawing a mix of envy and admiration from the other students around you.

Shoto watched as you took the news in stride, completely unbothered by the whispers and glances that followed your name at the top of the list. His own eyes shifted to find his name not far below yours, and he couldn't help the small, competitive twinge it gave him.

Yet, beneath that, there was a deeper sense of admiration for the way you handled the pressure that came with being the best—like it was just another part of your day.

Your confidence shone through, but it wasn't the boastful kind. It was something quieter, more grounded, and it made Shoto wonder what it would take to make you drop that composed mask, even for a second. Just a flash of surprise or a smile that wasn't so measured—he found himself wishing he could be the one to draw that out of you.

"You're hard to beat, as usual," Momo's voice broke through his thoughts as she approached, her grin sincere and full of admiration. Her name glinted just below yours on the list—498/500.

You gave her a teasing smile, shrugging lightly. "You'd be surprised, I actually did some light reading before this exam, so I couldn't help but get a perfect score." Your tone held a playful sarcasm, but it was clear that you weren't flaunting your success. There was a humility behind your words, a sincerity that made your victories feel earned rather than flaunted.

"And that my folks, is the end of the second year of middle school"

//

"Dabi, what do you think about bringing that girl into the League?" Shigaraki asked, fiddling with his game controller, the sound of buttons clicking filling the room. Dabi leaned back against the counter, swirling the contents of his glass lazily before taking a sip.

"It'd be priceless to see my dear little brother's face when his girlfriend joins us," Dabi mused with a smirk. "But let's be real. That girl's got a strong sense of heroism drilled into her. She's not going to fall in line that easily."

Shigaraki's screen flashed "Game Over," and he slammed the controller onto the floor with a frustrated growl, shards of plastic scattering. "They all say they're committed to heroism until something snaps," he retorted, his voice low and irritated. "And when it does, they're putty in our hands. I'm sure Master will see the potential in her."

Dabi let out a derisive snort, setting down his glass. "Come on, Shigaraki, we all know why you're so eager to have her join. It's not about potential—it's about that little obsession you've got with her."

Shigaraki shot him a glare, eyes narrowing behind his matted hair. "It's not an obsession, Dabi. It's strategy. She's got power. Master will understand the value of that."

Kurogiri, polishing a glass behind the bar, glanced between them. "Convincing All For One is one thing, but convincing the girl herself is another. Do you really believe she'd abandon her hero path for ours, Tomura?"

Shigaraki's smile twisted, dark and calculating. "Everyone has a breaking point. All it takes is a little pressure in the right place, and even the strongest convictions can crumble."

Toga, who had been listening with an almost dreamy look in her eyes, giggled and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. "She's so interesting! I bet her blood is as sweet as she looks. Maybe she has a hidden side... Maybe she'd let me try her blood if I asked nicely."

Dabi rolled his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You're all dreaming if you think she'll just drop her hero act and join our little band of misfits. But hey, go ahead and try—just don't whine when she shuts you down."

Shigaraki ignored Dabi's skepticism, his mind already spinning with ideas of how to push you over the edge, how to make you see the world from his perspective. The thought of breaking down your resolve, of seeing that perfect, determined facade crack, sent a thrill down his spine.

"Can I go see her, pretty please" Toga jumped in glee.

Shigaraki narrowed his eyes at Toga, his impatience evident as he shot down her request. "No, Toga. You're not going anywhere near her—not yet."

Toga's face fell, her pout exaggerated. "Aww, why not? I promise I'll be on my best behavior!"

Shigaraki rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "Because you don't know how to be subtle. We need to do this right, not just rush in like idiots. If we spook her too soon, she'll run straight back to the heroes, and we'll lose any chance of getting her to see things our way."

Dabi let out a low chuckle from his spot at the counter. "For once, I agree with the boss. Toga, you'd probably ask her for blood before you even learn her name."

Toga huffed, crossing her arms as she flopped down onto the couch. "Fine, but it would have been so much fun..."

Shigaraki ignored her sulking, turning his focus back to the task at hand. "We play this my way. When the time's right, I'll be the one to make her an offer she can't refuse. Until then, we keep our distance and watch her."

The room fell silent, and Shigaraki allowed himself a small, twisted smile. He could already picture the moment you'd have to choose—and he'd make sure you saw the world through his eyes, whether you liked it or not.

"Now where's Twice with the damn pizza" Dabi murmured.

//

Your legs dangled against the wall as you lay back on your bed, head hanging over the edge. Your hair spilled toward the floor while you casually munched on salt and vinegar chips. It was early morning, and you were still in your Wictoria's Secret pajamas, the shorts riding up a bit high.

"Imagine actually getting transported into another world," you mused to yourself, scrolling through yet another isekai fanfiction.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

"COME INNNN," you called, stuffing another chip into your mouth without a care.

The door creaked open, revealing Monoma. His usual smug expression faltered as he took in the sight of you lounging in such a carefree position. His face immediately flushed, and he backed out of the doorway as if he had just walked into something scandalous.

"PUT ON SOME CLOTHES, WOULD YOU?!" Monoma's exasperated voice echoed from the hallway.

You rolled your eyes, sitting up and brushing a few crumbs from your lips. "I am wearing clothes!" you shot back, gesturing to your sleepwear.

After a pause, he cautiously poked his head back into the room, his face still flushed as he tried to avoid looking directly at you. His gaze flitted awkwardly to the floor before he finally stepped inside, clearing his throat.

"So, what brings you here, Monoma?" you asked, crossing your legs with a smirk, enjoying his discomfort.

He sat down in your desk chair, straightening up as he gathered himself. "The registration for U.A. starts today," he reminded you, waving a few papers in the air before placing them on your desk.

Your eyes widened in realization, and you grabbed your phone, frantically checking the date.

"AH, DAMN FIZZLE NUGGETS!" you groaned, fumbling with your phone as you scrolled through the registration details. Panic settled in when you saw the time ticking away.

"It starts at 10 a.m.," Monoma remarked dryly, swiping the phone from your hands with an infuriatingly smug smirk.

"You literally have a father who works there—how do you not remember?" Monoma rolled his eyes, the exasperation clear in his voice.

"Uhh..." You glanced over to the wall covered in a mess of sticky notes, each one with a scrawled reminder that read "Don't forget." Your smile turned sheepish as you tried to ignore the glaring evidence. "Umm, apparently not."

Monoma sighed heavily, reaching out to flick your forehead. "You're hopeless," he muttered, though the small, amused grin tugging at his lips softened the jab.

Monoma had recently turned fourteen, an age where everything seemed to shift. Puberty hadn't been kind to his emotions, especially when those emotions were tangled up in feelings for a friend. Hormones had made his thoughts more chaotic, and despite his usual composure, he couldn't help but feel a little flustered around you.

But he refused to let those feelings make him lose his manners over something as trivial as this, so he kept his gaze firmly downward, trying not to let his thoughts show.

As you scrambled to collect your things, Monoma turned away slightly, pretending to be more interested in the dusty bookshelf than the way your shorts had ridden up your legs. His cheeks were tinted red, but he quickly brushed it off. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.

Just a few more months remained until the official story of U.A. High would kick off, and you couldn't help but think about the changes that lay ahead. Eri was safe all the way in Okinawa, far from immediate danger, so your main concern was the looming threat of Shigaraki and the League of Villains.

If you played your cards right, you could potentially intervene before things spiraled out of control.

BUT BEFORE ANY OF THAT, THERE WAS THE MATTER OF PASSING THE ENTRANCE EXAM.

AN: Double update cause this was kinda a filler chap. Keep scrolling