The day started with noise.
Ren noticed it before he even reached the main gate.
Voices—dozens of them—layered over one another, sharp and demanding, cutting through the usual quiet of U.A.'s morning grounds like static. Camera shutters clicked rapidly, flashes bursting in uneven rhythms, and the low hum of generators and vans idling nearby filled the air.
Reporters.
A lot of them.
Ren slowed slightly, adjusting the strap of his bag as he approached. The scene ahead looked exactly like something pulled straight from memory—crowds pressed up against temporary barriers, microphones thrust forward, security staff visibly tense as they tried to maintain order.
He exhaled once.
Right. That day.
The moment he stepped into view, a few heads turned.
Then a few more.
A woman with a headset spotted him first. "Hey—student! Over here!"
Ren didn't stop walking.
Another reporter leaned over the barrier. "Are you in the Hero Course? What's it like being taught by All Might?"
A microphone nearly brushed his shoulder.
Ren turned his head just enough to answer while continuing forward.
"Oh—no," he said casually. "General Course."
That made them pause.
He pushed the advantage.
"All Might doesn't teach us," Ren added, tone flat, almost bored. "I'm honestly jealous. Hero Course kids get all the good stuff."
That threw them completely.
A few reporters blinked. Someone frowned. Another asked, "Wait, really?"
"Yeah," Ren said, already slipping past them. "We mostly just study and watch from afar. Kind of sucks."
It wasn't even a lie—just not the whole truth.
By the time they realized he wasn't who they were looking for, Ren was already through the gate, the noise fading behind him like a door closing.
He didn't look back.
Inside, U.A. felt like itself again.
Students filtered in from different directions, conversations buzzing as usual. Some talked excitedly about All Might. Others complained about homework. A few glanced nervously toward the perimeter, clearly aware of the chaos outside.
Ren took his seat quietly.
Bakugo arrived moments later, scowling as if the entire world had personally offended him. Midoriya followed, posture stiff, eyes darting like he was expecting trouble to materialize out of thin air.
Class settled.
Aizawa arrived exactly as expected—tired, unimpressed, and already halfway into his sleeping bag before anyone noticed.
"Before we begin," he said flatly, "we're selecting a class president."
Excitement erupted immediately.
Ren leaned back slightly, arms crossed, watching the reactions with mild interest.
This part was… entertaining.
"Why?" Bakugo snapped instantly. "That's pointless."
"I don't wanna do extra work," someone else muttered.
Aizawa didn't react. "Vote."
Ren glanced at the ballot.
He didn't think too hard about it.
He wrote Kirishima.
Not because he thought Kirishima wanted the role—if anything, the guy seemed allergic to authority—but because he trusted him. Kirishima was straightforward, dependable, and didn't overthink things but he knew he would not win.
Votes were tallied.
Chaos followed.
Bakugo exploded, shouting about idiots and incompetence. Hands were raised. Arguments erupted. Voices overlapped until the room felt like it might tip into a fight.
Then—
"I'LL DO IT!"
Midoriya stood up so fast his chair nearly fell backward.
The room froze.
Ren blinked.
…Yep. Still him.
Midoriya rambled—apologetic, earnest, desperate to take responsibility—and somehow managed to make things worse before they got better.
Eventually, Iida slammed his hand on the desk.
"THIS IS DISORDERLY!"
Ren winced slightly.
And just like that, the class president baton passed hands exactly the way it always did.
Later, as things calmed down, Kirishima leaned over toward Ren, scratching the back of his head.
"Hey, uh… someone voted for me. That wasn't you, was it?"
Ren looked at him seriously.
"Absolutely," he said.
Kirishima blinked. "Why?"
Ren shrugged. "Thought I might get free protein powder if you won."
Kirishima stared for half a second—then burst out laughing.
Lunch came.
And with it—panic.
The sound of alarms echoed faintly from outside. Teachers moved quickly. Students pressed toward windows.
Media personnel had breached the perimeter.
Ren stayed seated, watching Iida sprint toward the door, face pale with urgency.
There it is.
Midoriya chased after him, concern written plainly across his face.
Ren didn't follow.
He already knew how this played out.
When Iida returned later, chastened and apologetic, the class was quieter. More grounded.
Midoriya ceded the class president role.
Iida accepted.
Things settled into place.
Normalcy, restored.
Almost.
Aizawa stood at the front of the room.
"Change into your hero costumes," he said. "We're heading out for rescue training ."
That got everyone's attention.
The bus ride buzzed with excitement.
Ren sat near the middle, listening more than talking. A few students asked him questions—about his Quirk, mostly.
"How does it work?" Uraraka asked, leaning over the seat.
"It absorbs energy," Ren replied simply. "Then I convert it."
"Convert it into what?"
"Depends," he said. "Pressure. Motion. Temperature. Mostly controlled output."
That mirrored exactly what he'd told the doctor years ago. Safe. Accurate. Non-alarming.
Todoroki listened quietly from across the aisle.
Tsuyu spoke up. "Midoriya's Quirk feels kind of like All Might's, doesn't it?"
There was a brief pause.
Ren glanced toward Bakugo, who looked like he might combust.
"Yeah," Ren said lightly. "Like a budget version with self-destruct issues."
Somehow it was Bakugo who was enraged and deku as always nervously tried to explain
Then said to bakugo "Relax," Ren added, deadpan. "Over-caffeinated chihuahua ."
Bakugo snarled. "WHAT DID YOU SAY—"
That earned a few laughs.
Bakugo did not laugh.
The bus arrived.
The dome loomed ahead—vast, artificial, sealed.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
The space was massive, filled with simulated environments designed for disaster scenarios. Rubble, collapsed structures, water hazards.
Professional.
Ren adjusted his goggles slightly as they stepped inside.
Thirteen appeared.
Introductions were made.
And then—
The lights flickered.
A pressure rolled through the air, heavy and wrong.
Ren felt it before he saw it.
Negative energy surged.
Not sharp.
Not focused.
But vast.
Dense.
Like a storm breaking all at once.
The portal opened.
Figures spilled out.
Villains.
And Ren's heart beat once—slow, steady—not in fear.
But in recognition.
So this is what the real thing feels like.
The calm before everything shattered was gone.