Ripples of Fate

Chapter 1: First meetings

Mailin’s POV

If someone had told me years ago that I’d be standing at the gates of U.A. High School, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’ve always admired heroes, just like everyone else. I looked up to them, the way they stood tall against danger, always ready to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. But my dream of being a hero was never about fighting. It wasn’t about glory or power. It was about helping people, healing them. I didn’t dream of facing villains—I dreamed of mending wounds, of supporting those who fight.

And yet, here I am. U.A. High School, the most prestigious hero academy in the country, the place where legends are born. I stand at the gates, heart pounding in my chest. I can hardly believe it. It feels surreal, almost like I’m outside of my body, watching myself from a distance. I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag, trying to ground myself. This is real. I’m here. This is the beginning of everything.

My journey to get here wasn’t easy. The application process alone was intense, and passing both the written and practical exams had been a challenge. The written exam wasn’t the problem—I had spent months studying, poring over hero law, quirk regulations, ethics. I made sure I knew everything inside and out. But the practical exam? That was something else entirely.

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering the chaos of the exam. Robots. Everywhere. There had been flashes of light, explosions, shouts. The other applicants had jumped into the fray, taking down the machines with ease, their quirks flashing like fireworks. My quirk isn’t like that. I can control water, manipulate it, but I’ve always focused on healing. So while the others destroyed, I focused on what I do best—helping.

I remember the looks I got from the examiners as I healed the injured. It wasn’t the flashiest display of power, but I saved people. I did what I came to do, and in the end, it was enough. I passed.

And now, I’m here. At U.A. My heart swells with pride for a moment, but it quickly fades into the nervous flutter of uncertainty. Will I fit in here? Will I stand out for the right reasons? This place is full of students with quirks designed for offense, for fighting. What if I’m not good enough? What if my path isn’t enough?

“Mizuhana Mailin.” I say my name quietly, as if reminding myself that I belong here. I’ve worked for this. I deserve this. And yet, that little seed of doubt remains.

I take a deep breath and step through the gates.

The campus is even bigger than I imagined. The sprawling buildings stretch out in front of me, each one towering and imposing in its own way. The students around me are a flurry of excitement, all moving in different directions, some laughing, some serious, but all of them full of energy. This is it—the start of my journey.

Suddenly, I feel a presence beside me. I glance over and see him. He’s taller than me, with dark, messy hair that falls around his face like a curtain. His eyes are half-lidded, as if he hasn’t slept in days, and there’s a slouch in his posture that makes him look like he’d rather be anywhere else. Despite that, there’s something... sharp about him. Like he’s always on alert, even when he looks completely disinterested.

Aizawa Shota.

The name sparks something in me, a memory of the entrance exam. He was there, moving through the chaos like it didn’t faze him at all. Calm, collected—like nothing could touch him. But seeing him up close now, there’s something deeper, something that tugs at me. His presence feels heavy, like the air shifts just by being near him. He’s different.

I hadn’t spoken to him during the exam, but I remember watching him. His movements were almost lazy, yet efficient. There was no wasted energy, no panic. Just precision. I wonder what drives him, what kind of person he is behind that detached exterior. Does he feel things the way I do? Or does he keep it all locked away?