Ripples of Fate

Chapter 58: Hopeful Beginnings

Mailin’s POV

The atmosphere inside the Class 1-A dorms is one of rare, infectious harmony. For once, the tension between Class 1-A and Class 1-B seems to have melted away, replaced by easy conversation and bursts of laughter. Students are scattered all around the common area—sitting on couches, lounging by the windows, talking animatedly about their recent joint training exercise. It’s hard to believe these are the same two classes that, just hours ago, were battling fiercely against each other.

I lean against the doorway, watching them interact. The competitiveness that usually underpins their interactions has turned into a sense of mutual respect. As I stand beside Shota, I glance up at him, my heart swelling with pride. His face is its usual unreadable mask, but I know him well enough to see the small signs of satisfaction in the way his eyes track the students’ movements. They’ve all grown, especially Hitoshi.

Hitoshi, who has worked so hard to get where he is, stands with his classmates now, part of something bigger than just himself.

“Izuku!” Shoto’s voice breaks through the hum of conversation as he approaches the green-haired boy. His expression is serious, his brows knit together in contemplation. “You have two Quirks now, don’t you?”

Izuku’s eyes widen in alarm, and for a brief moment, his hands fumble nervously. “No, no!” he stammers, shaking his head rapidly. “I—it’s not that! It’s more like an extension of my Quirk! Yeah, that’s it... something I didn’t even know I had.”

Shoto scrutinizes Izuku for a moment longer, then nods, accepting the explanation. “I see.” His gaze softens just a fraction, and he lowers his voice. “Your Quirk... it’s impressive. But you’re still not in full control, are you?”

Izuku’s shoulders tense slightly, but then his face breaks into a small, earnest smile. “I’m working on it. Just like you are. Your flames were incredible, Todoroki. I could feel the heat all the way from the other side of the training grounds.”

Shoto’s expression flickers with something—pride, maybe? No, more like self-awareness. “I asked my father to train me,” he admits, his voice quieter, as though sharing a secret he’s not quite comfortable with yet. “It’s not easy. I still have a long way to go.”

Hearing him mention Endeavor’s name tugs at my heart. Shoto’s relationship with his father is a complex, painful thing, and watching him navigate that has been both heartbreaking and inspiring. Shota shifts slightly beside me, his gaze flicking towards Shoto with the same unspoken understanding that I feel. We both know how much it took for Shoto to even consider asking Endeavor for help. It’s a weight he’s carrying, but he’s carrying it with a strength that can only come from years of struggle.

Their conversation moves on, but I find my thoughts lingering on Hitoshi again. He’s made it through the joint training with his head held high, and now the teachers have made their final decision to welcome him into the hero course. The meeting we had earlier feels like a blur of emotions—pride, relief, excitement for his future. But underneath it all, there’s still that flicker of doubt in Hitoshi’s eyes, the fear that he might not be good enough, that his past might hold him back.

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Shotas POV

The next morning, the air outside the dorms is crisp, carrying the scent of leaves and fresh dew. Standing beside me is Eri, her small hand wrapped tightly around her sleeve, her eyes wide with both curiosity and a hint of fear. Beside her, Neito, Izuku, and Mirio wait expectantly, their gazes shifting between one another in silent question.

“Aizawa-sensei, what’s going on?” Izuku asks, his brow furrowing as he looks at me.

I glance down at Eri, her anxious expression tugging at something deep inside me. “I wanted Monoma to help with something,” I explain, my voice calm, though my eyes don’t leave Eri’s face. “But I didn’t want to leave him alone with her.” I cast a brief glance at Monoma, whose eccentricities would do nothing but unsettle her. “His... personality wouldn’t be good for her right now.”

Monoma raises an eyebrow at me, but to his credit, he doesn’t argue. He steps forward, his usual dramatic flair tempered by the seriousness of the situation. He places a hand on Eri’s shoulder, his face uncharacteristically solemn, and attempts to copy her Rewind Quirk. For a brief moment, a horn grows from his head, mirroring Eri’s, but it vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

“I can’t use it,” Monoma says, his voice apologetic. “Her Quirk is an accumulation-type Quirk. I can copy the Quirk itself, but not the energy that powers it.”

Relief washes over me as I see the horn disappear. The last thing we need is for Monoma to accidentally trigger Eri’s Quirk. The consequences would be catastrophic.

“Why did you ask him to copy my Quirk?” Eri asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I glance at her, then at Izuku and Mirio. “Eri still doesn’t fully understand her power,” I explain gently. “If Monoma could copy it and learn to control it, he might be able to help. But for now, that’s not an option.”

Eri’s gaze drops to the ground, her small face scrunching with guilt. “I’m sorry... My Quirk only hurts people...”

Her words cut deeper than I expect, but before I can respond, Izuku steps forward, kneeling beside her. “That’s not true, Eri. You saved me with your power, remember? You didn’t hurt me—you helped me. Your Quirk isn’t dangerous. It’s just... powerful. And once you learn how to control it, you’re going to help so many people.”

Eri’s wide, teary eyes look up at Izuku, her tiny frame trembling as the weight of his words sinks in. Slowly, I see the spark of hope returning to her gaze, the belief that maybe—just maybe—her power doesn’t have to be something to fear.

“I’ll try my best,” she whispers, her voice stronger now, her resolve palpable.

Mailin stands beside me, silent but present, her warmth grounding me. I glance at her, seeing the pride in her eyes, and something inside me softens. We’ve all been through so much, and watching these kids—Eri, Hitoshi, Izuku—grow despite everything life has thrown at them, it makes everything worth it.

As we walk back into the dorms, I steal another glance at Eri. She’s still fragile, still scared, but she’s starting to believe in herself. And I know, with us beside her, she’ll find her way.

And in that moment, I realize—this is what it means to be a family. We protect each other, we help each other grow, and we never let each other fall.