It was a hectic morning at U.A. Reporters swarmed the front gate like crazed fans, desperate to bombard students with questions—and, of course, I wasn't spared.
"What are your thoughts on All Might as a teacher?" one reporter asked, practically shoving a mic in my face.
"He's loud. Always bursting in with that deafening voice of his, yelling while explaining things like we're in an action movie," I answered casually, causing a few chuckles among the media.
"And what do you think about All Might's teaching methods?" another group chimed in.
Just as I opened my mouth to reply, someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. It was Yaoyorozu. Without even glancing at me, she spoke firmly.
"Stop spacing out. Get inside already. Class is about to start."
The reporters sighed in frustration as she dragged me into the building.
In the distance, I caught sight of U.A.'s front gate closing with a heavy metallic rumble—an automatic steel barrier, thick and formidable. I gave a low whistle.
"U.A. really takes its security seriously," I muttered to myself.
Now, the two of us stood outside our classroom door. Yaoyorozu turned to me, her expression serious as she pointed a finger directly at my chest.
"Listen. Don't talk to me so casually. The other girls in class are already gossiping about us."
I raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
"Huh? So what? Why does it matter?"
She clicked her tongue in irritation.
"It might not matter to you, but it matters to me. I don't want people thinking we're... involved."
I let out a long sigh, looking at her with a flat expression.
"Whatever. I don't feel like arguing. I'll do whatever you want."
I stepped ahead and opened the classroom door. But just as I was about to enter, her hand stopped me.
"Wait!"
The room fell silent.
Our eyes met for a brief moment—and there, at the front of the class, stood my father, already waiting by the board. The students sat neatly at their desks, staring at us.
Yaoyorozu froze.
Their gazes shifted downward—to her hand still holding mine.
"You're both late," my father said, stroking his chin with a faint smirk. "And now you show up holding hands. Hm… how sweet."
Yaoyorozu stiffened instantly.
"No, Aizawa-sensei! It's not what it looks like!" she blurted.
My father gave a low chuckle, nodding slightly.
"Alright, alright. Just take your seats. I have something to announce."
We walked to our seats, while the rest of the class erupted into whispers, unable to stop buzzing about what they'd just witnessed.
***
"I hope you've all had enough rest after yesterday's training," my father said, his eyes sweeping across every student in the classroom. "I've reviewed your evaluation results."
The room fell into a tense silence. Everyone swallowed hard, the air suddenly thick and heavy.
"Bakugo."
At the sound of his name, Bakugo looked up.
"Stop acting like a child. You're wasting your potential."
Bakugo's expression stiffened. He lowered his head, his face unreadable.
"I know…" he muttered, his voice low and subdued.
Midoriya stared straight ahead, swallowing nervously—he seemed to know he was next.
"And you!"
Midoriya flinched and quickly lowered his head.
"Do you plan to keep destroying your own arms, Midoriya? If you keep saying, 'I haven't mastered my Quirk yet, so I can't help it,' then you'll never improve."
Still looking down, Midoriya answered quietly.
"Yes, Sensei."
Then my father turned his attention to me, where I sat with my hands casually resting behind my neck.
"And you, Tsukasa. Stop treating the teachers like your personal playthings. Apologize to Present Mic—he's still shaken from what happened yesterday."
I let out a relieved sigh and replied softly.
"Yes, Dad— I mean, Sensei."
He gave a slow, approving nod before opening a printed handout.
"And… this might be a bit overdue, but I need to announce something."
Everyone's focus shifted back to him, their eyes fixed on him in silence.
"We need to choose a class representative."