an ODST among Heroes.

S2-3

Mei Hatsume was practically swaying on her feet, the toll of training pressing heavily on her and the rest of Class 1-X. Every muscle ached, and sweat dripped into their eyes, blurring their vision. Yet, Izuku Halsey moved through the exercises seamlessly, not even breaking a sweat. His motions were precise, deliberate, as if this was second nature to him. Mei glanced at him with a mix of exhaustion and awe. “Izuku, how are you even doing this? How is this possible?” she asked, breathless.

“I’ve been doing this since I was five,” Izuku replied, the casualness of his tone making the others pause.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, a shadow of anger and confusion crossing his face. “Where were you?” he demanded, a sharp edge to his voice. “My mom searched everywhere for you. They even declared you dead!”

“He was?” Mei’s wide eyes darted between Katsuki and Izuku, the revelation catching her off-guard.

Izuku’s expression darkened as he nodded. “I was taken off-world by Daisy and another Spartan. They brought me to a place called Reach.”

“Reach?” Momo repeated, the foreign name settling like a stone in her chest.

“Yeah,” Izuku confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was hellish.”

Their tense exchange was interrupted by Sergeant Johnson’s booming voice as he entered the room, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “And that’s where you eight are headed next,” he said, crossing his arms. “For those of you who’ve always wanted to travel to another planet, today’s your lucky day.”

---

Their initial excitement was soon replaced with trepidation as they reached the cryo bay. The sterile environment, filled with the low hum of machinery, seemed to chill the very air around them. A UNSC officer explained that they needed to strip down to prevent freezer burn during stasis. The room was filled with a mix of embarrassment and resignation as they complied, accepting the standard medication to ease their transition into cryo-sleep. Momo’s cheeks burned, but she held her head high, determined to show no weakness.

The hours passed in an instant. When they awoke, groggy and disoriented, they were ushered out of their cryo-pods and handed military uniforms to change into. The chill of the cryo bay was replaced by the heavy scent of metal and sweat as they were led into the bustling training facility. Reach loomed outside the viewport, a stark reminder of the war-torn galaxy they had stepped into.

They were fed and shown to their barracks, a cold, bare space that reeked of discipline. Around them, Spartan III trainees moved with a sense of purpose and intensity that spoke of years of rigorous training. Izuku’s eyes scanned the crowd, recognition sparking as he saw familiar faces—survivors, orphans of the Covenant’s brutality.

It didn’t take long for whispers to spread. Eyes darted toward Izuku, some filled with disdain, others with curiosity. Katsuki clenched his fists as he noticed the cold, calculating looks thrown in Izuku’s direction. He had been harsh to Izuku in the past, but the hostility here was different—colder, more relentless. Stories of Izuku’s treatment of Covenant on Doisac, where he had been a prisoner-turned-gladiator, had preceded him. To these trainees, who had lost everything to the Covenant, showing mercy to their enemy was a betrayal.

Dinner was tense, the hum of conversation punctuated by pointed glares. It was then that a girl around their age with a hardened look approached their table. Her eyes burned with a mix of rage and grief as she fixed her gaze on Izuku.

“So, you’re the Wraith himself,” she spat, crossing her arms. “Amy.”

Izuku’s eyes met hers, calm yet unyielding. “What’s it to you?” he said, his voice steady.