Eri got up with a yawn and looked at herself in the mirror.
White hair. Red eyes. A scar under her collarbone she always forgot was there until the light hit just right.
Sixteen.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes, then stared harder, like maybe the reflection would show her something new today. Nope. Still her. Still Eri.
Her horn had grown. Not big enough to stab someone with, not that she'd tried, well except that certain someone, but long enough that it curved slightly to the left now, just enough to make brushing her hair a pain in the ass.
She pressed her fingers to it.
No pulses. No glow. No tickling burn like when she was younger and it would flare randomly, threatening to undo the timeline, well Ryuu had long taught her how to control it.
Mostly.
The room behind her was still a wreck. Clothes on the chair. Textbooks under the bed. A cracked Wildcard figurine sitting on the shelf next to a photo of the entire gang stuffed into Ryuu's room like sardines. Mina had drawn horns on everyone with a marker. Hers was sparkly.
She turned away from the mirror and grabbed her uniform.
U.A.
Finally.
Not as a side case. Not as a scared kid sneaking in through a backdoor with Ryuu's passcode and five excuses. No. This time it was real. Her file was approved. Her scores were top of the chart. Headmaster signed off himself.
She was in.
Officially.
She yanked the uniform on, slapped her name tag to the chest, and tied her shoes like she was suiting up for drills. Maybe she was. If the entrance ceremony speeches dragged as long as Ryuu said they did, she would need a battle plan just to stay awake.
Downstairs, the kitchen was already loud.
Momo was lecturing the blender.
Nejire was eating cereal directly from the box like a raccoon with better hair.
Ryuu was nowhere to be seen.
Shocker.
Eri grabbed toast, dodged Mina's morning sparkle bomb, and slid onto the table bench.
Momo pointed with a spoon. "Back straight."
Eri flipped her off with her pinky. "It is too early for posture."
Toru appeared behind her and stole a bite of toast. "First day, huh?"
Eri nodded, mouth full. "You gonna cry?"
Toru smirked. "Only if you fail. Then I get to laugh first."
Nejire poked her from the other side. "You nervous?"
"Not really."
"Excited?"
"Kind of."
"Gonna destroy someone?"
"Hopefully."
Ryuu finally stumbled in, shirt half-buttoned, hair a mess. "Why the hell are you all awake?"
"Because not all of us keep vampire hours," Jiro said from the hallway.
He ignored her, walked past Eri, and ruffled her hair. "You sure about this?"
She stared at him. "You trained me. You doubting your own work?"
"I am doubting the school's ability to handle you."
"Too late."
He laughed. "Fair."
She still could not believe they all chose to live with Ryuu, even after ten goddamn years. Her original bet was they would tap out one by one. Crumble under the sarcasm. Fold under the ego. Bounce after the third time he said "clean your shit or I'll burn it."
But nope.
They stayed.
Which meant one thing, they were all as insane as he was.
Ryuu had that energy. That "kiss my ass and maybe I'll let you live" vibe. That assmouth, assbrain, assspine thing going. The man was 90% attitude and 10% protein bars. A full-blown, government-certified, top-ranked hero with the personality of a traffic accident and the face of a hot villain that turned good for the fanbase. Basically, he was an ass.
But he was a cute ass.
Eri watched Toru try to drag him to the couch by his collar. "Come on, Mr Number One. Comb your hair before someone reports us for neglect."
"It is combed," he muttered, still half-asleep.
"That's a lie and a war crime," Momo said, flipping a pancake with the disappointment of a wife who knew better.
"Why are you yelling?" he groaned, grabbing a mug and chugging from it before realizing it was full of syrup.
Mina cackled. "Your fault for not checking."
"I hope your next period is psychic," he grumbled.
"Oh please, I would slay as a telepath," Mina said, striking a pose and nearly knocking over Jiro's juice.
Jiro didn't flinch. "Try it. I dare you. I got enough trauma in here to short-circuit you."
Nejire sat upside down on the couch, still in pajamas. "Ryuu, why are you limping?"
"Mirko."
"Oh. Still?"
"She dislocated something I didn't know could dislocate."
"Gross," Tsuyu mumbled, sipping her tea like none of this fazed her.
Toga walked in next, holding Ryuu's hoodie hostage. "He left it in my room again."
Ryuu blinked. "You stole it."
"You left it on my floor."
Inko arrived with a sigh, "Can you not speak of indecent stuff with Eri around?"
She walked in and ruffled Eri's hair.
Eri beamed up. "Good morning, Mom."
Inko kissed the top of her head. "Morning, baby. You look amazing."
Uraraka walked in holding bread like it was a peace offering. "Oh, everyone's up already?"
"You sound surprised," Momo said, flipping another pancake onto a plate without even glancing.
"I thought I was early."
"You're always early," Toru said, biting her stolen toast again. "It's disturbing."
"It's efficient."
"It's freakish," Ryuu grunted, sitting down like his joints were plotting a coup. "Who wakes up this happy?"
"You, when there's a new villain to punch," Mina said, reaching across the table to snag some butter. "Or when your bat gets buffed."
"That bat is my daughter. Thank you very much"
"Explains the parental neglect," Jiro muttered.
Inko arched an eyebrow. "Ryuu, please tell me you are not skipping your follow-up with Recovery Girl."
"I already did."
"Why?"
"Because I recovered."
"You limped in like someone drop-kicked you down a flight of stairs."
"I did that myself. Training."
"Ryuu."
"Mom."
They stared at each other. Tension. Pressure. Then—
"Fine. I'll go."
"Good boy."
Toru snorted. "You just got mom'd. Again."
"He gets mom'd at least once a day," Tsuyu added.
Eri nodded. "Sometimes twice."
"I feel like there's a mutiny happening," Ryuu muttered, hiding behind a mug of something.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Momo said, finally sitting down with a sigh. "Remember the hot springs trip?"
Everyone paused.
Eri blinked. "The one where Mina tried to summon a spirit with a salt circle and ended up flooding the bath?"
"It was cleansing!" Mina said. "Spiritually."
"I still have the receipt for the damage," Momo said.
"I nearly drowned in shampoo foam," Tsuyu mumbled.
Toga stretched across two chairs like a sleepy cat and tossed Ryuu's hoodie at his head. "You owe me breakfast for that."
Ryuu groaned. "This is bullying."
"It's breakfast," Jiro said.
"It's love," Inko added, patting his shoulder as she set out more dishes.
"Abuse," he whispered.
Eri tossed a grape at him. "Cope."
He caught it mid-air and popped it in his mouth. "I raised you wrong."
"Nope," she said proudly. "You raised me perfect. Now eat your damn pancake."
Everyone laughed.
Eri leaned back, eyes scanning the room. It was loud, chaotic, half-burnt toast on the counter, someone's sock hanging from the ceiling fan, Ryuu's bat in the corner next to Momo's planner and Toga's mystery knives. But it was home.
And today?
She was finally walking into UA not just as the kid they all protected, but as her own name.
Eri Midoriya.
Let the world keep up.
---
In his room, in the agency, Izuku first read the news.
Front page headline: "Eri Midoriya Enters UA - Nation Breathes Collective 'Oh Shit'"
He nearly spat his tea.
"Already?" he muttered, scrolling. "She just walked through the gate, and they're writing epilogues."
There was a whole paragraph analyzing her Quirk potential. Another on Ryuu's "questionable parenting influence." And a third theorizing whether she would be a Class A or Class S student, like they were revamping the alphabet just to sort her threat level.
He sighed, dragged a hand down his face, and set the tablet down before his brain overloaded on caffeine and panic. Again.
From the hallway, Bakugo's voice cut through like a chainsaw dipped in spite.
"She's in. Of course she is. You surprised?"
"No," Izuku said, rubbing his temples.
"You're acting like she got hired to run Tartarus."
"She could, honestly."
Bakugo grunted, walking in with his usual 'I hate mornings and everyone in them' expression. "Ryuu's spawn. Half the house is trauma. Other half is sarcasm. What did you expect?"
Izuku smiled. "She's not like him."
"She's worse," Bakugo said, grabbing toast and not asking. "Ryuu with emotional regulation? That's a goddamn apocalypse. She smiles before she kills. At least he warns you with a roast first."
Izuku didn't argue. Mostly because Bakugo was right.
Eri was terrifying.
In a wholesome way. Which made it worse.
"She's gonna break the school," Bakugo muttered through a mouthful of jam. "Hope Nezu put her in A. That class has insurance."
"You think she'll manage the hero course?"
"She'll dominate it."
Izuku nodded slowly, mind already racing.
Life was crazy.
Who could have thought he would one day partner up with Kacchan to open an agency?
And not just any agency, "Dynamight Smash!"
Izuku still regretted agreeing to the name. But Bakugo insisted, loudly, with threats involving grenades and fire extinguishers, so here they were. Hero Agency Number 3 in the country, ranked just under Ryuu's blood-soaked circus and All-Girls, "H.E.R. Force." Some days, Izuku still woke up wondering if this was all just a fever dream brought on by inhaling too much sweat and nitroglycerin in high school.
"You know," he said, sipping tea while reading another press blurb about Eri, "we could have named it something cooler."
Bakugo grunted from the couch. "We did. Dynamight Smash is peak branding."
"It sounds like a wrestling move."
"It is a wrestling move. And now it's also an agency."
Izuku shook his head. "I wanted something subtle. Something calm. Maybe, 'Guardian Rise.'"
Bakugo made a sound that could only be described as a snort and a choke laced with contempt. "What, you gonna start handing out emotional support coupons at crime scenes?"
"It sounds professional!"
"It sounds like a sleep aid for kids who wet the bed."
Izuku sighed, flipping the tablet upside down so he would stop reading Eri's name followed by apocalyptic predictions about what she would do to UA.
Before Izuku could answer, the front doors of the agency slammed open with the force of a bomb going off and a very familiar voice shouted...
"DUMB BOOM BITCHES, I BROUGHT SNACKS AND SCIENCE!"
In walked Hatsume Mei, Hero Tech Legend, Goddess of Gear, and, somehow, Izuku's wife.
Her hair was a mess of tangled pink, her goggles skewed on her forehead, her lab coat had scorch marks, and her grin was wide enough to make villains nervous. She was dragging a massive cooler in one hand and holding a remote in the other, which Izuku instinctively flinched from.
"Mei," he said, cautiously. "What's in the—"
"New prototype!" she shouted. "Anti-Quirk suppression grenades! Also cupcakes!"
Bakugo stared at the cooler. "Did you mix those two in the same container?"
"Maybe."
Izuku buried his face in his hands. "Oh god, we are going to die."
"Don't be dramatic," she said, kicking the door shut with her heel. "The cupcakes are on the right. The explosives are on the left. Probably."
Bakugo snorted. "I like her."
Mei winked. "You better. I signed the lease."
"C'mon, we need to attend the opening. I don't want that brat to rewind me."
---
Mineta started the day normally.
Shower. Brush teeth. Match socks. Swirl some expensive-ass mousse into his hair for that perfect "effortlessly charming" look that took twenty minutes and three mirror angles to nail. Yep, still balls for hair.
Breakfast? Protein bar and iced coffee. Basic. Clean. Efficient. He even washed the mug after. He had gotten better about that.
His room was tidy. Not fake tidy. Real tidy. Bed made. Laundry done. A bookshelf lined with everything from hero law manuals to romance manga, spines crisp, no suspicious stains. The little Minoru of the past? That gremlin? Gone. Dead and buried under a mountain of therapy, punched hormones, and personal growth.
Hell, he even donated to a women's shelter last week.
Because that was the thing about Mineta now, he was normal. Boringly, painfully, impressively normal.
He held doors open. He recycled. He let people finish their sentences. He only watched adult content with written consent from all parties involved.
He was soft-spoken. Polite. Dressed decently. Didn't shout at women. Didn't leer. Didn't ogle. If he saw a thigh, he looked away out of respect.
He was a reformed man.
He even had a cat. His name was Respect.
So when Mineta sat down at his desk with his morning smoothie, scrolled open his hero news app, and saw the daily feature headline pop up with H.E.R. FORCE WINS AGAIN: 18 VILLAINS DEFEATED, ZERO CASUALTIES, MIRKO STILL HOT, he calmly clicked it open like any other news piece.
He was normal.
Then he saw the photo.
Mirko, bloodied and beaming, posing on top of a wrecked getaway van, flexing hard enough to shatter bones, hers or someone else's, unclear.
Behind her, Ryukyu, wings spread, flames curling over her scales. Momo, in full tactical gear, a rifle the size of a motorcycle on her shoulder, glaring at the press. Toru, well, you couldn't see her, obviously, but her gloves were waving mid-air. Mina, holding a crushed support beam over her shoulder with sparkles in her eyes and some poor bastard's jawprint still on her elbow. Uraraka, floating rubble like confetti around a handcuffed villain. Tsuyu, mid-leap, tongue lashing out like a whip. Jiro, amplifiers flaring, mouth curled in a smirk. Nejire, upside down mid-air, hair like an explosion of cotton candy, shooting a spiral wave through another idiot's van. And then—
Toga.
Winking at the camera with her combat knife between her teeth like a damn movie poster, one boot pressing a villain's face into the curb.
Mineta blinked.
Twice.
Then closed the app.
He opened the weather app. Sunny skies, high of twenty-two.
Closed it.
Got up and walked to the living room.
He crouched low, lights off, incense burning in a tea cup he'd stolen from his own kitchen. Respect the cat watched silently from the window, unimpressed. A hoodie draped over Mineta's head like a monk's cowl.
In front of him, on a makeshift altar constructed from stacked HeroCon collector's boxes and an upside-down rice cooker, were three laminated images.
Center: Ryuu Midoriya, shirtless, bat slung over his shoulder, eyes like a war god that'd gotten bored and decided violence was a hobby. There was blood on his chest, dirt on his knuckles, and a smirk that screamed come closer if you hate breathing.
To the right: Shoji, arms spread wide in mid-fight, face calm, steady. The man was built like a protein-drenched fortress with the soul of a poet. In the photo, he was shielding two kids during a warehouse collapse. Not even looking at the rubble. Just bracing. Holding.
To the left: Mt. Lady, caught in a mid-battle shot, foot raised, slamming down on some oversized villain with a snarl and lipstick still flawless. Hair windswept. Eyes wild. Confidence painted across every curve like a war cry in heels.
Mineta bowed.
Deep.
Sweat beaded down his forehead. Not from heat. From spiritual pressure.
His fingers steepled.
"Thank you, Lords."
He took a breath.
"Lord Ryuu…"
Voice low. Almost reverent. Like if he got too loud, a bat would swing through the wall.
"You beat the perv out of me. Every threat, every insult, every time you caught me breathing near the girl's dorm with binoculars... You didn't lecture. You lunged. You didn't ask questions. You punted me down flights of stairs with commentary. You once made me write 'Consent is sexy' in blood, mine. I still twitch when I smell permanent marker."
A sniffle.
"I owe you my dignity. And four teeth."
He turned right.
"Lord Shoji…"
His lip quivered.
"You said nothing. Not once. You didn't yell. You didn't scold. You just beat me. Daily. Like clockwork. I'd wake up in a panic, wondering if today would be the day you'd spare me, and it never was. You didn't punch to punish. You punched to educate. You broke three of my bad habits and six of my ribs in one semester."
He touched his side, reflexively wincing.
"You taught me respect. Through concussions."
Then he turned left. The final, most haunting frame.
"Lady Mt. Lady…"
He shivered.
"You smiled. That's what scared me. You smiled when you made me do sensitivity training in heels. You smiled when you signed me up for the 'Boundaries and You' workshop taught by angry divorcees. You smiled when you showed the girls how to throw me like a lawn dart if I ever stared too long."
He bowed until his forehead hit the floor. It didn't even faze him anymore.
"You didn't need to hit me. You made me fear feminism like a divine force. You gave me a handbook. I memorized it. I cite it in casual conversation now."
He raised his hands to the altar.
"You three... you didn't reform me. You erased Minoru the Perv. I am not who I was. I flinch at cleavage. I cry during romcoms. I bake cookies for meetings."
His voice broke.
"I once apologized to a skirt for looking too fast."
He stared up at the altar.
"...Thank you. For breaking me into a decent man."
Then he reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out a rosary made of scrunchies and anti-harassment pamphlets, and kissed it.
"Blessed be thy bat. Amen."
---
Aizawa sat in the staff room. Already feeling tired.
The clock had not even hit 8:00, and he was three sips into a lukewarm coffee with enough bitterness to burn regret into his gums.
The door creaked open.
"Yo," came the unmistakable voice of Present Mic, as loud as the sun in a hangover. "Why the long face?"
Aizawa did not look up. "I work here."
"Man, c'mon. First day. New blood. Legacy continues." Mic dropped into the chair across from him, balancing his sunglasses on his head like some kind of peppy prophet. "Should be a celebration."
"I celebrated by sleeping thirty minutes longer. Regret it already."
Mic chuckled, leaned back. "You saw the roster?"
"I saw the nuclear bomb labeled 'Midoriya, Eri' printed in red ink. Yes."
"That's not red ink. That's Nezu's stress marker."
Aizawa grunted.
Mic grinned wider. "Come on, you raised half these kids. You got this."
"I raised Ryuu."
"Exactly. This will be easy by comparison."
The door opened again.
"Speak of stress markers," Nezu chirped, waddling in with a clipboard and an unsettlingly chipper smile. "Did someone mention nuclear bombs?"
"Morning," Mic said.
"Mm," Aizawa mumbled.
Nezu climbed into his designated chair with the elegance of a rodent monarch. "Eri scored top in every field. Even the obstacle course. Nearly outpaced the instructors."
"She broke one of the sensors," Aizawa said flatly.
"She reimbursed it with a handwritten note and a bag of apology cookies."
"She learned that from Yaoyorozu," Mic said proudly.
Nezu looked delighted. "She is going to ruin expectations for every student that follows her. I cannot wait."
"Do we even have a class ready for this?" Aizawa asked. "I'm not pairing her with anyone untrained."
"Oh, we are not placing her," came a voice from the hallway.
All Might stepped in. Whole. Tall. Back straight, smile soft, not the blinding grin from years ago, but something real.
"They are pairing themselves now."
Mic stood. "All Might."
"Hey," All Might said, waving lightly.
"Back already?" Aizawa asked.
"I never left," he replied. "Just took a seat behind the curtain."
Midnight entered like sin on heels, holding a thick-ass folder stamped with enough warnings to make a villain blink twice. She dropped it on the table with a thud that screamed drama incoming.
"Ryuu has strict conditions," she said, smirking like she enjoyed every word that followed. "And by strict, I mean insane. He sent a list."
Aizawa sighed like he could already feel the migraine forming.
Midnight flipped the folder open, cleared her throat, and began to read like it was scripture written in rage and sarcasm.
"One: Eri is not to be paired with anyone whose grades involve the phrase 'could apply themselves better' unless Ryuu personally signs off. And by sign off, I mean interrogates, background checks, and probably punches."
Mic let out a low whistle.
"Two: No boys within a five-meter radius of Eri's dorm. Unless they are gay. Documented. Verified. Possibly certified."
Nezu blinked. "Certified?"
"Three," Midnight continued, undeterred, "Anyone who flirts with Eri will be subjected to a trial by combat. Ryuu gets to pick the location, time, and whether weapons are allowed. There will be no warning. Or mercy."
All Might coughed into his hand. "Reasonable."
"Four: If anyone makes Eri cry, Ryuu has legal permission to 'go full warcrime mode.' His words. Not mine."
"Warcrime mode?" Mic asked. "Is that a setting he toggles?"
"Apparently," Midnight said. "Five: All dates must be formally requested via letter, signed in blood. The suitor's. Denial is automatic if the handwriting is shit, no loops, no slants, no letters that look like they were written by someone with thumbs for fingers. If the letter contains even a single cliche ("your smile lights up the room"), it's over. If they write more than one exclamation mark, they are emotionally unstable. If they write none, they are emotionally repressed. Denied either way.
Paper must be handmade, ethically sourced, and blessed by at least one shrine maiden. Envelope must be sealed with wax, not spit, and the wax must bear a unique crest symbolizing personal growth and zero red flags. If they wear Axe body spray, own more than two baseball caps, or unironically quote motivational gym reels, they are denied on moral grounds.
Breathing more than 25,000 times a day indicates lack of discipline. Less than that implies laziness. Denied. If they flinch when Ryuu glares at them, weak. If they do not flinch, dangerous. Denied. If their Spotify playlist contains any track labeled "for the grindset," Ryuu activates Plan Z: a live reading of the rejection letter in front of their peers, narrated by Present Mic with full stadium reverb.
If they call her "princess," they are a liar. If they call her "bro," they are a war crime. If they so much as look at her while chewing gum, Ryuu is legally allowed to swing first and ask questions never.
In short, the clause is open to all who qualify."
Mic was already losing it. "This is gold."
"Oh, I am not done." Midnight flipped the page. "Six: Ryuu demands a camera in every hallway. Not for school safety. Just to make sure no one 'gazes at Eri with hormonal intent.' That's a direct quote."
All Might nodded slowly. "Classic Ryuu."
"Seven: If Eri is injured during training, Ryuu reserves the right to challenge the instructor to a 'friendly' spar within three hours. If the instructor declines, Ryuu gets to write an official insult letter, to be posted on the teacher's door for a week. In Comic Sans."
Aizawa grunted. "He's escalating."
"Eight: Ryuu requests a fire extinguisher in every room in case someone says something dumb enough to emotionally combust near Eri. For her safety, obviously, he cannot have her inhaling the smoke of burnt egos and incinerated confidence."
"I respect the preparedness," Nezu said.
"Nine: If Eri is ever referred to as 'cute' in a creepy tone, Ryuu will personally remove the person's kneecaps. With his bat. There is no appeal process. There is a waiting list."
Mic raised a brow. "Wait, there's a list?"
"Ten," Midnight said, eyes sparkling, "and I quote: 'If some hormonal dumbass tries to get Eri's attention by acting cool, slick, or heroic, they better be prepared for public humiliation, a PowerPoint presentation on boundaries, and a live demonstration of 'why Ryuu got banned from twelve pro-wrestling leagues.'"
Aizawa just stared at the ceiling like he wanted it to collapse and end the meeting.
Midnight closed the folder. "So, thoughts?"
"He's not wrong," All Might said, stroking his chin.
"We will need a second dorm just for her," Nezu said casually, "possibly reinforced. And a relationship policy stronger than the Geneva Convention."
Mic chuckled. "This is gonna be fun."
Midnight grinned. "Oh, and there's a bonus clause: Ryuu said, and I quote, 'If any teacher gives Eri a grade lower than she deserves due to bias, pettiness, or incompetence, I will give them a lecture with my fists. And then make them write me a thank-you note for the lesson.'"
Nezu clapped once. "Beautiful. Let us print it. Frame it. Hang it above the teacher lounge."
Aizawa finally sipped his cold coffee. "This is going to be a long year."
Midnight winked. "Oh come on, she is worth it."
And somewhere, far off from the chaos and preemptive ulcers Ryuu's conditions were causing, Eri walked into UA with a smirk.
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