Mha oc

The past. This is in third pov

Ryosuke wandered the halls of U.A., his boots tapping against the polished floor as he passed other students. The present day felt distant as his mind drifted, memories of his early years at the academy bubbling to the surface.

Back when U.A. was his playground, when he was just a wide-eyed four-year-old with a habit of stirring up trouble, the halls felt even more alive.

The memory unfolded like an old film, colors brighter, voices louder. A tiny version of himself, no taller than a desk, darted down the hallway. His hair was messy, his baggy clothes just a little too big, and his golden eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Ryosuke!"

Young Mic's voice echoed down the corridor. Barely 18 and already as loud as a megaphone, Hizashi Yamada came jogging after him, his long blond hair bouncing with every step. "You can't keep running off! Eraser's gonna kill me!"

Little Ryosuke giggled, clutching a bright orange toy gun in his tiny hands—except it wasn't a toy. It was one of Snipe's actual pistols.

From behind him, a teenage Cementoss rounded the corner, looking both concerned and amused. "Is that... Snipe's gun?"

"Oh yeah!" Ryosuke shouted with gleeful pride.

"...Should we stop him?" Cementoss asked, scratching his head.

"Eh, he's fine," Hizashi waved him off, though the laugh that followed was tinged with nervous energy.

"Yamada!" a gruff voice cut through the air. Shota Aizawa—18, already perpetually tired, and somehow the most responsible of the group—strode toward them, his black hair falling messily over his face.

"Ryo!" Aizawa called out, crouching slightly to be on eye level with his tiny son. "Hand over the gun. Now."

Little Ryosuke pouted, hugging the weapon to his chest. "But it's mine now!"

"No, it's Snipe's," Aizawa corrected, holding out his hand.

"Finders keepers!" Ryosuke argued, puffing out his cheeks in defiance.

As if summoned by the chaos, Snipe himself appeared at the end of the hall. His wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his masked face, but his voice was unmistakable.

"Kid's got good instincts," Snipe drawled, walking over with a lazy swagger. "But you're gonna need a bit more practice before you can handle the real thing."

Ryosuke's eyes widened as Snipe knelt down in front of him, extending his hand. "Tell you what, little guy. You give me that gun back, and I'll show you some cool tricks with the fake ones next time."

The four-year-old hesitated, his small fingers gripping the handle of the gun. Then, slowly, he handed it back. "Promise?"

"Promise," Snipe said with a wink.

The commotion drew the attention of Midnight, who sashayed over with a bemused smile. Her outfit was far less dramatic than what she'd eventually wear as a pro hero, but her energy was just as big.

"What's all the fuss about?" she asked, ruffling Ryosuke's hair as she passed.

"Ryo stole Snipe's gun," Aizawa explained flatly, scooping the boy up and plopping him onto his hip.

"And I gave it back!" Ryosuke protested, crossing his arms.

"Under duress," Aizawa muttered.

Midnight laughed, pinching Ryosuke's cheek. "He's gonna be a handful when he grows up, huh?"

"He already is," Aizawa replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched up in the faintest smile.

Later, Hizashi carried Ryosuke back to the dorms on his shoulders, the boy babbling excitedly about the "cool gun" and how he was going to grow up to be just like Snipe.

"You know," Hizashi said, glancing up at the boy, "you've got some guts, kid. I like that."

"Guts are good, right?" Ryosuke asked, peering down at him.

"Yeah," Hizashi said with a grin. "But next time, try to have some brains to go with 'em, yeah?"

Back in the present, Ryosuke let the memory fade, a small smile tugging at his lips as he continued walking. Those halls had been his home long before he'd been a student here. The teachers had been his family long before they'd been his mentors.