Ripples of Fate

Chapter 2: Hero Names and Doubts

Mailin’s POV

I sit at my desk, my fingers tracing the edge of the notebook in front of me. Today’s task is simple on paper—pick a hero name. For some of my classmates, it’s a no-brainer. Something flashy, something powerful, something that shouts to the world who they are. But for me… it’s not that simple. I’m not here for glory. I’m here to help, to heal.

My pen hovers over the paper. I think back to everything that’s brought me here, to U.A. The battles I’ve witnessed, the lives I’ve saved, the calm I bring to chaos. My quirk is water, fluid and adaptable, but it’s more than that. It’s healing, soothing.

Suddenly, it comes to me—Mizuhime. The name forms in my mind like a ripple across a still pond. Mizu, for water, and hime, for princess. Not because I see myself as royalty, but because I want to embody the grace and calm of water. A steady presence in the storm. It’s gentle, but strong. Like the water I control.

I write it down, the letters flowing across the page, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It feels right.

As I look up from my paper, my eyes drift to Aizawa, who sits slouched in his seat a few rows ahead of me. His dark, messy hair falls over his face, hiding his expression, but I can tell he’s lost in thought. He’s been quiet today, more so than usual, if that’s even possible. Something about him feels… heavy.

He hasn’t picked a hero name yet. I know because Hizashi’s been teasing him about it all morning. I’ve been watching them, the way Hizashi tries to lift the mood with his energy, but Aizawa just brushes it off. His eyes are half-lidded, but I can see the way his fingers twitch, how he taps his pencil lightly against the desk, like his mind is elsewhere.

There’s something about him, something that feels distant and untouchable. But at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s carrying a weight he doesn’t want anyone to see. I wonder what it is.

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Shota’s POV

Hizashi is still talking. I’ve tuned him out, mostly, as he rambles about hero names and how Present Mic is going to be the greatest, loudest name in the history of pro heroes. He’s buzzing with excitement, as always, like nothing could possibly faze him. I wish I had that energy.

But I don’t.

I stare at the blank paper in front of me. Hero names. What’s the point? A name won’t change anything. It won’t make me stronger or more capable. It won’t fix the doubts gnawing at the back of my mind. All these people around me—they’re excited about their future, about becoming pro heroes. But me? I’m just… here.

Hizashi leans over my desk, grinning wide. “Come on, Shota! You gotta pick something! Can’t be a pro hero without a killer name!”

I don’t respond. I know he’s just trying to help, but I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here.

My quirk, Erasure—it’s useful, sure. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s limited. It doesn’t make me flashy. It doesn’t make me powerful. It just… cancels out others. It’s more of a support quirk than anything. What kind of hero can I be if all I do is negate the power of others?

I glance down at my paper again, my mind swimming with uncertainty. I’m not cut out for the spotlight. I don’t want to be. What I want is to do my job, quietly, without all the noise and fame that comes with it. But what kind of name reflects that?

Then Hizashi slaps the paper in front of me, scribbling something down with a flourish. “Eraser Head!” he declares proudly, like he’s just named the next big thing. “It’s perfect for you! Mysterious, cool, and totally fitting your vibe!”

I stare at the name, eyebrows furrowing. Eraser Head. It’s… strange. But it’s not wrong. It’s simple, to the point, and kind of funny in a way. It fits my quirk, at least. I give Hizashi a look, and he grins wider, clearly proud of himself.

“Just think about it, man. It’s got a ring to it,” he says, slapping me on the back before bouncing off to bother someone else.

I don’t know if I’ll ever fully believe I belong here. These days, it feels like I’m just going through the motions, trying to prove something to myself more than anyone else.

But when I glance up, I catch Mailin’s eyes on me. She doesn’t say anything—she never really does unless there’s something worth saying—but there’s something in her gaze that’s different. It’s calm, steady. Grounding, even.

I don’t know why, but it helps. Just a little. Maybe I can survive this after all.

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Mailin’s POV

As the class wraps up, I glance down at the hero name I’ve chosen—Mizuhime. It feels like more than just a name. It feels like a promise to myself, to be the person I came here to be. Not just a hero, but someone who can make a difference.

I catch sight of Aizawa as he scribbles something onto his paper at the last second. Hizashi is practically beaming beside him, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of name he picked.

As the others chatter and pack up their things, I find myself lingering. Aizawa hasn’t moved from his seat, still staring at the paper in front of him, lost in thought.

For a moment, I consider going over, saying something. But then I stop myself. Maybe he needs this quiet, this space. Just like I do sometimes. Instead, I turn and head for the door, but not before stealing one last glance in his direction.

Eraser Head.

It suits him.