Adjusts glasses and settles into my favorite Stitch onesie
Hey everyone! waves enthusiastically Did you miss me? Of course you did! I know it's been a while since we last chatted, but I've been busy working on some really exciting developments for our story. Though right now, I'm a bit distracted by something... strange.
Glances nervously at the sticky notes scattered around my apartment
You see, the weirdest thing happened this morning. I woke up to find these cryptic sticky notes everywhere. And I mean everywhere. There was one on my coffee maker (which, by the way, I desperately needed to reach), another stuck to my laptop screen, and even one perfectly centered on my bathroom mirror. Each one just had a single "0" written on it, along with the date "5/11/25."
Picks up one of the notes and squints at it
At first, I thought maybe I'd written them myself during one of my late-night writing sessions. You know how I get when I'm really into a scene - sometimes I wake up to find plot notes in places I don't remember putting them. But this... this is different. The handwriting isn't mine, and I definitely don't remember buying neon green sticky notes.
Shivers slightly
I was going to tell you all about my plans for the upcoming chapters - you know, discuss how we're going to explore some really interesting character developments, especially with... wait, did that sticky note just move? No, no, must be the wind. Though I could've sworn I closed all the windows...
Clutches Stitch plushie closer
Anyway! I wanted to talk about how we're going to delve deeper into... stares at a new sticky note that definitely wasn't there a second ago ...okay, this is getting creepy. They keep appearing when I'm not looking. I've counted seventeen so far, but every time I turn around, there seems to be a new one.
Pierre, if you're reading this - because I'm starting to suspect this is your doing - this isn't funny! Well, maybe a little funny, but mostly creepy! Though I have to admit, it's exactly the kind of thing you would do...
Jumps as another note flutters down from seemingly nowhere
I should probably be more concerned about how someone's getting into my apartment to place these notes, but honestly? After writing about UA's security system being breached this feels almost... normal? Is that weird? That's probably weird.
Oh! Speaking of weird, I should tell you about the upcoming... notices another sticky note, this one stuck to my favorite coffee mug ...you know what? Maybe we should continue this conversation another time. When my apartment isn't being invaded by mysterious zeroes. Though I have to wonder what's so special about 5/11/25...
Nervously eyes the growing collection of sticky notes
Stay tuned, everyone! Assuming I survive this sticky note invasion, we have some amazing story beats coming up. And if I disappear mysteriously, well... check for neon green sticky notes leading to my location.
Whispers Seriously though, Pierre, we need to talk about appropriate ways to leave messages. Like texts. Or emails. Or literally anything that doesn't involve breaking into my apartment!
Until next time!
======
May 19, 2226
Monday mornings sucked. That universal truth remained constant even in a world of superpowers and hero academies. I fumbled with the buttons of my school shirt, fingers clumsy with haste as sunlight streamed through Camie's bedroom window.
"Babe, have you seen my tie?" I called out, scanning the bedroom floor where various articles of clothing lay scattered.
"Check under the couch," Camie replied from the bathroom, her voice muffled by what I assumed was her toothbrush. "Pretty sure it landed there when I yanked it off you last week."
I smirked at the memory as I ducked into the living room. Sure enough, my UA tie had somehow wedged itself between the couch cushions. I fished it out, looping it around my neck without bothering to tie it properly yet.
The wall clock read 7:45. Classes started at 8:30, and we still needed to catch the train. Normally, I'd have been up at 5:30 for my morning workout, followed by a proper breakfast and an early arrival at school. But today had gone sideways from the start.
Camie emerged from the bathroom, her blonde hair still damp at the ends, school skirt in place but her white button-up only halfway fastened. She caught me staring and grinned.
"See something you like, Izu?" She struck a pose, hand on her hip.
"Something I liked plenty about forty minutes ago," I replied, crossing the room to help with her buttons. "Which is exactly why we're running late."
She laughed, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on my jaw. "Worth it, though. That thing you did with your—"
"Focus," I interrupted, though I couldn't help smiling. "Aizawa's going to kill us."
"Please. After you won the Sports Festival? You're untouchable." She reached up to fix my tie, her nimble fingers making quick work of the knot. "The golden boy of UA can be a few minutes late."
I snorted. "Tell that to Aizawa. Pretty sure he'd expel All Might himself if he showed up late to class."
We finished dressing in a flurry of movement, grabbing bags and smoothing uniforms. Camie paused at her dresser, applying a swift touch of lip gloss while I gathered both our lunches from the refrigerator.
"Ready?" I asked, holding her bag out.
"Born ready." She snatched it from my hand, then frowned. "Wait, did you pack the protein bars?"
I patted my own bag. "Three for you, three for me. Plus the bento mom sent over."
"God, I love you," she said casually, already heading for the door.
The words hung in the air between us. We'd never actually said them before alone—not directly, not those exact words. Camie froze halfway through the doorway, turning back with wide eyes.
"I mean—" she started.
I closed the distance between us in two strides, cupping her face and kissing her deeply. When I pulled back, her cheeks had flushed pink.
"I love you too," I said quietly. "But we're still going to be late."
Her smile could have lit up the entire country. "Then let's be late together."
We raced down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator, bursting into the morning sunlight hand in hand. The train station stood three blocks away—if we ran, we might still make the 8:05 express.
"Hey, isn't that the Sports Festival winner?"
I winced at the voice from across the street. A group of middle school kids had spotted us, pointing excitedly.
"It's him! Midoriya! And the illusion girl!"
"Can we get a picture?" one called out, already crossing the street toward us.
I checked my watch. 7:52. We definitely didn't have time for this.
"Sorry, we're late for school," I called back, tugging Camie along as we picked up our pace.
"Just one picture!" Another voice. "Please! You were so cool in the finals!"
Camie squeezed my hand. "Go ahead. Thirty seconds. I'll text Yaomomo to let Aizawa know we're on our way."
I sighed but nodded, stopping long enough for the kids—four boys in middle school uniforms—to catch up. Their faces lit up with excitement as they crowded around us.
"Thanks so much! My friend's gonna freak when he sees this," the tallest one said, fumbling with his phone.
I smiled for the camera, one arm around Camie's waist. "No problem. You guys applying to UA?"
"I am!" said a freckled boy with bright orange hair. "Your match against Todoroki was amazing. How did you know where she would place her ice?"
"Practice and analysis," I replied, already backing away. "Good luck with your applications. Sorry, but we really have to run."
We jogged the rest of the way to the station, only to be stopped twice more—once by an elderly couple who wanted to shake my hand, and then by a young woman who thrust a notebook at me for an autograph. By the time we reached the platform, the 8:05 express had departed without us.
"Next one's at 8:15," Camie said, checking the schedule. "We're officially going to be late."
I ran a hand through my hair. "I need a car."
"What, like a license?"
"No, an actual car."
Camie leaned against my side, her arm slipping around my waist. "Celebrity problems, babe. Though I'm not opposed to you getting a car. Preferably something sexy. Maybe convertible?"
"I was thinking practical. Four doors. Good safety rating."
She rolled her eyes. "Boring. If you're getting a car because you're famous now, at least make it something that turns heads."
The train arrived fourteen minutes later—delayed, because of course it was—and we squeezed into the crowded car. By the time we reached UA station, it was 8:40, and we were officially late for homeroom.
We sprinted across campus, flash-scanning our IDs at the security gate. The main building loomed ahead, its H-shape distinctive against the clear blue sky. Camie kept pace beside me, her bag bouncing against her hip.
"If we're lucky, maybe he stepped out," she whispered as we slowed to a walk outside Class 1-A.
I shot her a skeptical look before sliding the door open.
Nineteen pairs of eyes turned toward us, including one bloodshot gaze that promised retribution. Aizawa stood at the front of the classroom, his expression decidedly unamused.
"Midoriya. Utsushimi." His tone could have frozen lava. "How kind of you to join us."
"Sorry we're late," I said, not bothering with excuses. Aizawa hated excuses.
He stared at us for a long moment, then sighed deeply, the sound of a man reconsidering his life choices. "Sit down."
We moved to our seats, Camie sliding into hers next to Jirou while I headed for mine in front of Yaoyorozu. As I passed Hitomi's desk, our eyes met briefly. The corner of her lips curved upward in a subtle smile before she turned her attention back to the front.
Well, at least she's not giving me the cold shoulder after our date. That's something.
I settled into my seat, turning slightly to catch Yaoyorozu's eye. She sat perfectly straight, as always, her ponytail immaculate, notebook open and pen poised. When she noticed my gaze, a faint blush touched her cheeks.
"Library at lunch?" I whispered, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear. "We should talk."
Her blush deepened, but she nodded once, her dark eyes serious.
"Now that our class president has decided to join us," Aizawa continued, drawing my attention back to the front, "I have an announcement. It's time for you to choose your hero names."
The classroom erupted in excited chatter. Kirishima pumped his fist in the air. Kaminari high-fived Sero. Even Bakugo cracked a rare smile.
Aizawa's eyes flashed red as his hair rose, his quirk activating. The class fell silent immediately.
"As I was saying, this relates to the hero draft picks I mentioned last week." Aizawa's monotone voice carried easily through the silent classroom. "Normally, this wouldn't matter until your second or third year, but with the buzz you all generated at the Sports Festival, several pro heroes are investing in your potential as first-years."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across our faces. "Keep in mind that any offer can be taken away if you prove yourselves... disappointing."
The subtle threat hung in the air. I straightened in my seat, feeling the weight of expectation settle across my shoulders.
"Now, here are the totals for those of you who received offers."
Aizawa tapped his tablet, and the board behind him lit up with our names and numbers:
MIDORIYA: 5,827
TODOROKI: 4,123
BAKUGO: 3,556
YAOYOROZU: 916
UTSUSHIMI: 360
FUKIDASHI: 301
TOKOYAMI: 301
IIDA: 72
KIRISHIMA: 26
KAMINARI: 14
ASHIDO: 12
A stunned silence fell over the room before it exploded into chaos.
"Five THOUSAND?" Kaminari's voice cracked as he stood up, pointing at the board. "Dude, that's insane!"
"God really does have favorites," Sero groaned, slumping in his seat.
I felt nineteen pairs of eyes shifting between me and the board. The number seemed surreal—nearly 6,000 offers? I'd expected interest after winning the festival, but this was beyond anything I'd imagined.
Kirishima leaned forward, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's so manly, bro! You totally deserve it after those fights!"
"Thanks," I replied, still processing the information. "I didn't expect anything like this."
"Of course you didn't," Bakugo snapped. "Mr. Perfect just accidentally gets six thousand fucking offers."
Before I could respond, Manga's speech bubble head popped up, displaying "CONGRATS!!!" in bold letters. "My best friend gets to intern with Mirko! My favorite female hero! This is literally the best timeline!"
The mention of Mirko sent another ripple through the classroom. The video of our encounter after the Sports Festival had apparently gone viral—her sniffing me, declaring I "smelled strong," and then publicly claiming me as her intern while dragging me away from the press. The moment had been so unexpected that I'd barely had time to process it myself.
"Oh my god, that video was everything," Ashido gushed, leaning across her desk. "The way she just sniffed you and was like 'you're mine' in front of everyone?"
"Did she really smell you?" Hagakure asked, her floating uniform shifting as she leaned forward. "What was that about?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Something about strength, apparently."
"Rabbit instincts," Asui said matter-of-factly, her large eyes blinking slowly. "Many people with animal quirks can smell hormones and pheromones related to physical condition for mating, kero."
"So she could literally smell how strong you are?" Kaminari looked impressed and disturbed in equal measure. "That's wild. And kind of hot."
"I wasn't finished," Aizawa cut in, his voice slicing through the chatter. His hair rose slightly—not activating his quirk, just a warning. The room fell silent again.
"While some of you received an overwhelming number of offers," he continued, his eyes flicking briefly to me, "I need to inform you that everyone in Class 1-A will be interning with pros, even if you received no offers."
Mineta's hand shot up. "For real? Even us zeroes?"
Aizawa nodded. "Yes, Mineta. Even the 'zeroes,' as you put it. The faculty has decided that after facing real villains at the USJ, it would benefit all of you to see professional heroes at work."
"So that's why we need hero names," Yaoyorozu said from behind me. "Because we'll all be working with professional heroes who will need to address us by our hero identities."
"Correct, Yaoyorozu." Aizawa's perpetually tired eyes showed a flicker of approval. "Your hero names will most likely be temporary at this stage in your careers—"
The classroom door slid open with dramatic force, cutting him off. Midnight strode in, her hero costume accentuating every curve as she struck a pose in the doorway.
"But you'd better take them seriously," she finished for him, her voice carrying the theatrical flair that contrasted sharply with Aizawa's monotone, "or you'll have hell to pay later!"
She sauntered to the front of the class, heels clicking against the floor. "A hero name is more than just what people call you. It's your brand, your promise to society, your declaration of who you are and what you stand for."
Aizawa stepped aside, appearing relieved to hand over this particular lesson. "Midnight will be overseeing your hero name selections. I'll be napping in the corner if anyone needs me for anything actually important."
True to his word, he unrolled his yellow sleeping bag and settled into the corner of the classroom, leaving Midnight center stage.
"Now then," she said, producing a stack of small whiteboards and markers, "who's ready to become a hero?"
Kaminari raised his hand. "Question—do we have to worry about copyright stuff? Like, if there's already a hero with the name I want?"
"Excellent question!" Midnight pointed at him approvingly. "Yes, you absolutely need to consider that. Hero names are registered intellectual property. You can't use a name that's already taken by an active hero."
"What if we're not sure?" Hagakure asked, her disembodied gloves raising in question.
"That's why I'm here, sweetie," Midnight winked. "I know most of the registered names. But don't stress too much—these are provisional. You can change them later if needed."
As Midnight distributed the whiteboards and markers, conversations broke out across the classroom. Camie caught my eye from across the room, mouthing "what name?" with a raised eyebrow.
I shrugged slightly. I hadn't given it much thought. What kind of name would represent who I was as a hero? What did I want the world to see when they looked at me?
"Fifteen minutes to brainstorm," Midnight announced, "then we'll start presentations."
Yaoyorozu tapped my shoulder lightly. When I turned, she leaned forward slightly.
"Have you thought about this before?" she asked, her voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Not really," I admitted. "You?"
"I've had ideas since I was a child," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. "Though they seem rather juvenile now."
"What about Genesis?" I kept my voice equally quiet, enjoying our small moment of privacy amid the classroom chaos.
Her cheeks colored slightly. "That's… actually really good."
My mind drifted to Mirko—direct, powerful, unmistakable. Her hero name perfectly captured her quirk and personality. What name would do the same for me? Something related to my fighting style? My analytical approach? Or perhaps something aspirational, representing the hero I wanted to become?
I glanced around the room. Bakugo hunched over his whiteboard, writing with fierce concentration. Todoroki stared at hers with a distant expression, marker untouched. Camie was already on her second design, having erased her first attempt with a dissatisfied frown.
Kirishima leaned over to whisper something to Kaminari, who snickered and quickly covered his whiteboard when Midnight walked past.
"Time's up!" Midnight declared after what felt like only moments. "Who wants to go first?"
Aoyama's hand shot up immediately. "Moi, madame!"
"Come on up, darling," Midnight gestured him forward.
Aoyama pranced to the front of the class, striking a pose before revealing his whiteboard with a flourish: "The Shiny Hero: I Cannot Stop Twinkling!"
A beat of silence fell over the classroom before Midnight frowned. "That's a bit long, don't you think? And more of a sentence than a name."
"The shining hero must have a name that sparkles, non?" Aoyama insisted, his accent thickening with emotion.
Midnight tapped her chin thoughtfully. "How about we shorten it to just 'Can't Stop Twinkling'? Still captures your essence but rolls off the tongue better."
Aoyama considered this, then nodded with a dramatic bow. "Magnifique! I accept this compromise to my artistic vision!"
As he returned to his seat, Ashido bounced up. "Me next!"
Her board read "Alien Queen." Midnight immediately shook her head.
"No, no, no. Too much like that terrifying movie monster. Pick something friendlier."
Ashido pouted but returned to her seat to reconsider.
One by one, my classmates presented their chosen names. Asui became "Froppy," a name that perfectly matched her quirk and personality. Kirishima proudly declared himself "Red Riot," an homage to his hero Crimson Riot. Camie revealed "Mirage," simple and evocative of her illusion quirk.
Yaoyorozu approached the front with graceful confidence, presenting "Genesis" with a small, elegant smile. "The Origin Hero," she added as an explanation. Midnight approved with enthusiastic praise for its creativity and simplicity.
When Bakugo stomped to the front and revealed "Lord Explosion Murder," the class erupted in laughter while Midnight firmly rejected it. His second attempt, "King Explosion Murder," met the same fate, sending him back to his seat fuming.
Finally, Midnight's eyes landed on me. "Midoriya sweetie? You've been quiet. What have you got for us?"
All eyes turned toward me. I stood, whiteboard in hand, and made my way to the front of the class. I'd spent the fifteen minutes considering various options, but in the end, I'd settled on something that felt right.
I turned the board around, revealing the name I'd chosen:
"Sovereign."