The classroom at U.A. High was unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of Bakugo's explosions or Kaminari's banter. The air felt heavy, charged with a stillness that followed the Sports Festival's frenetic energy. Just days ago, the first-years had poured their hearts into the arena, and now, the weight of their performances lingered like a fog. Anticipation clung to the room, each student grappling with the reality that their lives as Heroes were no longer distant dreams but imminent truths.
Aizawa stood at the front, half-buried in his sleeping bag, clipboard in hand. His tired eyes scanned the room, his voice gruff but steady. "You all did well during the festival," he muttered, flicking his gaze from face to face. "Because of that, we've received a record number of Hero nominations for first-years. Three students in particular stood out."
The class leaned forward, a collective breath held. Even Bakugo, uncharacteristically silent, crossed his arms tightly, his scowl softer than usual.
Aizawa read off without fanfare, his tone flat but deliberate. "Shoto Todoroki received 4,123 offers."
A murmur of awe rippled through the room. Shoto remained impassive, resting his chin on his hand, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the desk. A slight twitch of his brow betrayed a flicker of surprise, quickly buried under his usual stoicism.
"Katsuki Bakugo received 3,389," Aizawa continued.
Low whistles and side-glances followed. Bakugo clicked his tongue, his arms tightening across his chest, but he didn't explode. The class noticed—his silence spoke louder than any outburst.
"And finally," Aizawa said, pausing for the smallest beat, his eyes lingering on a figure near the window, "Yumi Hoshino. 7,953 offers."
The class turned in unison, their gazes converging on Yumi. She sat still, her dark hair falling over one shoulder, her emerald eyes wide with something akin to shock. Her fingers froze mid-motion, hovering over her notebook, as if the number had physically struck her.
"What the hell?!" Kaminari muttered, his voice cutting through the silence. "That's almost double Todoroki's!"
"Not surprising," Jiro whispered, twirling her earphone jack around her finger. "She took down half the bracket without breaking a sweat. Did you see her how she used Quirk in the final round? It was like… a star exploding."
Yumi's expression remained neutral, but a faint pink touched her cheeks. She looked down, her fingers curling slightly in her lap, her pen abandoned. It wasn't pride swelling in her chest—it was pressure, a weight that pressed against her ribs, threatening to crack the fragile resolve she'd built since her father's death.
She could still hear his voice, his final words to her echoing in her mind: *Protect those who can't protect themselves, Yumi.* And Kael's, too, softer but no less piercing: *Be the light he was. Be better than me.*
Aizawa's voice cut through her thoughts. "Because of this, you'll each be participating in an internship program with Pro Heroes. You'll choose one of the Heroes who nominated you. But before that—"
The door slid open with a dramatic flourish, and Midnight strode in, her whip twirling in one hand, her smile radiant. "Name time!" she announced, her voice a mix of mischief and encouragement. She winked at the class, her presence injecting a spark of energy into the heavy atmosphere. "You've got fifteen minutes to come up with your official Hero names. Think hard—this could define you for the rest of your lives."
The tension thickened, a palpable shift as the students processed the gravity of the task. Pens scratched across notepads, whispers exchanged, and nervous laughter bubbled up here and there. Some grinned, like Kirishima, who was already scribbling with enthusiasm, muttering about "manly" names. Others, like Yumi, stared at their blank paper, the weight of the moment anchoring them in place.
Yumi's fingers brushed the edge of her notebook, her mind drifting to her father—Voidflare, a Hero who'd burned bright until his final moment. She saw his smile, warm and unwavering, even as he faced the end. She saw Kael, too, his black coat frayed but his resolve unyielding, fighting for her future.
Her heart ached, a dull throb that hadn't faded since she'd lost her father, since she'd chosen to carry his dream forward. The pen trembled in her hand, but she didn't write. Not yet.
"Hey, Hoshino," Midoriya's voice broke her reverie, soft but curious. He leaned over from the next desk, his green eyes wide with genuine interest. "You okay? You've been staring at that paper for a while."
Yumi blinked, her gaze meeting his. There was no judgment in his expression, only concern—a kindness that made her throat tighten. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the room. "Just… thinking. About what this name needs to mean."
Midoriya nodded, his own notebook filled with scribbled ideas. "I get it. It's hard, right? It's like… you're deciding who you're gonna be forever." He hesitated, then offered a small smile. "But I think you'll pick something amazing."
Yumi's lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her guarded exterior. "Thanks, Midoriya."
Across the room, Uraraka tilted her head, her voice gentle but teasing. "Come on, Yumi, you've got 7,953 Heroes fighting to work with you. Your name's gotta be as epic as that performance in the festival!"
"Yeah!" Kirishima chimed in, pumping a fist. "You were so manly out there! Like, boom, starlight everywhere! What's your Quirk called again? Cosmic Power Manipulation?"
"Energy, not power," Yumi corrected softly, her voice steady but tinged with warmth. "It… allows me to absorb energy from stars, empowering me physically and allowing me to construct it into anything I want."
"Badass," Sero grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Your name's gotta match that vibe."
Yumi's cheeks warmed further, but the pressure in her chest didn't ease. She glanced at Bakugo, expecting a snide remark, but he was silent, his eyes fixed on his own placard, his jaw tight. For once, he didn't snap or sneer. It was… unsettling.
Fifteen minutes passed in a blur, and Midnight clapped her hands. "Time's up! Line up, let's hear those names!"
The students shuffled to their feet, forming a loose line at the front. The air buzzed with nervous energy, some grinning, others fidgeting. Todoroki went first, holding up his placard with a single word: Shoto. Simple, direct, like the man himself. The class nodded approvingly, though Kaminari whispered, "Kinda on-the-nose, huh?"
Bakugo was next, his placard reading *DynaMight*. He growled as Midnight raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his initial, more explosive suggestion. "It's fine, alright?" he snapped, folding his arms. "It's got punch, it's memorable, whatever."
"Very you," Midnight teased, waving him off. The class chuckled, easing the tension.
Names flowed quickly—*Froppy* from Tsu, met with cheers; *Creati* from Momo, elegant and fitting; *Chargebolt* from Kaminari, earning a few snickers; *Tailman* from Ojiro, simple but honest. *Deku* from Midoriya, unfitting in Yumi's opinion, but motivational as well. Each name drew reactions, from laughter to applause, but when Yumi's turn came, the room fell silent.
She stepped forward slowly, her placard held with both hands, her knuckles pale from her grip. The word *NovaFlare* glowed in bold, deliberate strokes. Her eyes scanned the class, steady but soft, and when she spoke, her voice was calm—no stuttering, no shrinking back, just clarity born of deep conviction.
"I chose the name *NovaFlare* to honor my father," she said, her words deliberate, each one carrying the weight of memory. "His Hero name was Voidflare. He fought for people until the very end—until he gave everything to protect them."
The silence deepened, the class hanging on her words. Most hadn't heard her speak of her father, not like this. Even Aizawa straightened slightly in his sleeping bag, his tired eyes narrowing with quiet attention.
Yumi's voice softened, but it didn't waver. "A supernova is the death of a star. It's bright, powerful, but it's also an end. From that death, though, new stars are born—new life, new worlds. *Nova* represents what I've become, what I'm still becoming. *Flare*… ties me to him. To his legacy. To everything he taught me about protecting those who can't protect themselves."
Her grip tightened on the placard, her fingers trembling just slightly, not from fear but from the raw emotion coursing through her. "I carry his dream with me," she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Not to replace him, but to honor him. So others can shine, too."
The room was still, the weight of her words settling over everyone like a quiet tide. Uraraka's eyes glistened, her hands clasped tightly. "That's… really beautiful, Yumi," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah," Sero nodded, his usual grin softened by respect. "That's the perfect name for you. It's like… you're carrying his legacy while making it your own."
Kirishima wiped at his eyes, trying to play it off with a laugh. "Man, that's so manly! You're gonna make us all cry, Hoshino!"
Even Bakugo, still silent, looked at her with something new in his crimson eyes—not quite a scowl, not quite respect, but a grudging acknowledgment that pierced his usual bravado. He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.
Midnight wiped a corner of her eye, her smile warm but tinged with something deeper. "Well, now I feel underdressed for the occasion," she said, her voice light but trembling with emotion. "NovaFlare… it's powerful, Yumi. It's you. Your father would be very proud of woman you're becoming and going to be."
Aizawa didn't speak, but his gaze lingered on Yumi, a flicker of something—pride, perhaps—behind his tired eyes. He gave a slight nod, the smallest gesture of approval, but for Yumi, it was enough.
She returned to her seat, her placard clutched to her chest. The weight in her heart didn't vanish, but it felt… lighter. Not healed, not whole, but seen. Acknowledged. Her father's memory, Kael's faith, the hope of her classmates—it wove together into something new, something that steadied her. She thought of Carthis, of Kael's fight to rebuild a city from its ruins, and felt a spark of resolve. If he could carry that burden, so could she.
As the class continued, the chatter resumed, but Yumi sat quietly, her fingers tracing the word *NovaFlare* on her placard. She wasn't just her father's daughter anymore. She wasn't just Kael's childhood friend. She was something more—a star forging her own light, ready to burn bright for those who needed her.
…