Ren Takahashi didn't sleep well that night.
It wasn't fear that kept him awake—it was awareness.
Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed the day in fragments: the classroom, the faces he recognized far too well, the way the world felt heavier and more vivid than anything he remembered before. Even the quiet hum of the dormitory seemed louder, as if the building itself were alive.
When morning finally arrived, Ren was already awake.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. He sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees, and took a steady breath. The strange thing was, he didn't feel panic anymore. The shock had faded, replaced by something calmer.
Acceptance.
This world was real. And so was his place in it.
After getting dressed, Ren left the dorm and joined the flow of students heading toward the training grounds. Conversations floated around him—complaints about early mornings, excitement over upcoming exercises, casual arguments that felt oddly comforting.
It felt… normal.
Too normal, considering what he knew lay beneath the surface of this world.
When they arrived, Aizawa was already there, wrapped in his capture weapon, looking as perpetually tired as ever. He scanned the class with a sharp gaze before speaking.
"Today isn't about power," he said flatly. "It's about control. Anyone can destroy something. A hero needs to know when not to."
Ren listened carefully. Those words mattered more than most people realized.
The exercise was simple in concept: an obstacle-based assessment that forced students to rely on their quirks under pressure. No rankings. No winners. Just observation.
As students stepped forward one by one, Ren watched intently. He'd seen these abilities countless times before, but witnessing them from only a few meters away was different. Explosions rattled the air. Ice spread across the ground. Gravity bent and twisted around floating debris.
This wasn't fiction.
This was power.
When Ren's name was finally called, the chatter died down slightly. Curiosity lingered in the air. A transfer student with no public quirk record was bound to attract attention.
Ren stepped onto the field, his heartbeat steady.
He didn't rush.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
That strange sensation from yesterday stirred again—warm, responsive, like something alive beneath his skin. It wasn't violent or chaotic. It felt… patient. As if it had been waiting for him to acknowledge it.
Ren extended his hand.
The air around his palm trembled.
A low ripple surged outward, distorting the space in front of him for just a split second. The ground beneath his feet cracked—not shattered, but fractured cleanly, like stone responding to pressure rather than force.
A murmur rippled through the class.
Ren opened his eyes and exhaled slowly. He moved forward, navigating the obstacles with controlled bursts of kinetic energy—short, precise pushes that propelled him over barriers, redirected falling debris, and stabilized his footing midair.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing reckless.
But efficient.
By the time he reached the end, the field was silent.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but interest.
"Energy-based manipulation," he said. "You've used it before."
Ren didn't deny it. "Instinctively."
"That's not the same as control," Aizawa replied. "But you're closer than most."
It wasn't praise. But it was recognition.
As Ren stepped back into line, he caught Uraraka watching him. She smiled—not wide or exaggerated, but warm, genuine. It was the kind of smile that eased tension without trying.
Later, as the class cooled down, Ren found himself sitting on the edge of the training field, towel draped around his neck. Sweat clung lightly to his skin, but his breathing was calm.
"You didn't look nervous at all," Uraraka said, approaching him with a bottle of water.
"I was," Ren replied honestly, taking it. "Just not the kind that shows."
She laughed softly. "I get that."
For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, watching the others talk and argue nearby. The sun hung high above them, warm but not oppressive.
"You know," she said after a while, "most people try really hard to stand out here. You didn't."
Ren glanced at her. "Standing out makes you a target."
Her expression shifted—subtle, thoughtful. "That's… true."
As the day wound down, Ren felt something unfamiliar settling into his chest. Not excitement. Not fear.
Belonging.
Yet beneath it all, a quiet tension remained.
He knew what this world would demand of him eventually. He knew the moments that would come—the ones where heroes would hesitate, where things would go wrong.
Ren stood alone later that evening, leaning against the dorm railing as the sky darkened. Lights flickered on across campus, one by one.
He clenched his fist, feeling his quirk respond instantly, obedient and restrained.
If this world tested him…
He wouldn't break.
And if anyone threatened the people he was beginning to care about—
Ren's gaze hardened, the calm surface hiding something far more dangerous beneath.
He wouldn't hesitate.