You awoke to the sound of rain, slightly tapping a rhythm on your windowsill. Rainy mornings comforted you, as you were less susceptible to the pull of your quirk. You took a minute to reflect on your first interaction with your quirk as you lay in your bed. You were four years old, and you had opened your eyes to shadows. These shadows were flimsy and oozing, some falling apart and others straining to not melt into the background of your room. You didn’t remember screaming, but your parents burst into your room, so you must have.
You were gifted with a combination of your parent’s powers. Your father had the power of creation. With merely a thought and raw materials, he could create anything he could think of. He used to joke that if he hadn’t met your mother, he would have created you on his own. Your mother had the ability to dive into other people’s mind. She could ‘see’ their thoughts, their memories, their hopes, and their fears. She made use of this power frequently as a psychologist and mother to a recently hyperactive teen. Your quirk was a tempest born of them both. You could create in a sense. You needed no raw material, but without concentration, your creations were intangible and more of a suggestion of the item you wished to make. You could also meddle with people’s mind, but not to the extent of your mother’s. If you focused, you could get the suggestion of someone else’s thoughts. You couldn’t see their memories or hear their thoughts word-for-word, but you could decipher the emotion and intent behind it if you were looking. Your quirk reacted strongly to fear, detecting the fears around you much quicker than any other emotion or thought. This coalesced into the tempest of power on the morning of your quirk’s activation: A nightmare made real by your overactive imagination.
Your grip over your power had grown exponentially over your high school years, and you rarely awoke to any shadows these days, but the white noise of rain always helped. You were grateful for this, as this was your first morning of college in the UA system. You were dreading making a fool of yourself on your first day, considering most of the students here had gone to high school together and you had traveled across the country to enroll. You had graduated from Shiketsu High and had entered a private mentorship until the opening day of UA High.
After the near constant events UA class 1A dealt with during their high school years, hero society started to change. The whole country had witnessed the plight and hardships of this group of young adults and started to question whether or not they were too young for this kind of danger and responsibility. To combat this worry, colleges for pro heroes were established. Like most high-profile careers, heroes would now need a degree to continue to work in the public sector. The pro-heroes that were licensed before this announcement were grandfathered into a degree, and those who would graduate before the colleges opened would be accepted into mentorships across the country until they were ready. Most mentorships were similar to those that were accepted during high school, as a lesser semi-pro hero. Yours was somewhat different as your quirk needed more refining before a public debut.
You shook yourself out of your deep thoughts, halfway through eating breakfast before you noticed your body functioning on autopilot. Nerves were starting to settle in as you finished eating and prepared to leave for the opening ceremony. Today was finally the beginning.
You opened the door to your dorm room and stepped out, locking the door behind you. The bustle of students around you filled your stomach with butterflies. You scanned their faces with hope, maybe you’ll recognize one of your former classmates? There wasn’t much time to favor this thought, as the ceremonies would be starting soon, and you didn’t want to be late.
Slipping into a chair, you found yourself slipping back into your thoughts as you awaited the Dean’s speech. After this speech, you got to start your first class. A rush of nervous excitement washed through you, and a fuzzy butterfly messily glided in front of your eyes.
“Y/N! I AM VERY GRATEFUL TO SEE YOU HERE.” A booming voice broke you from your thoughts before a large hand swatted the butterfly, scattering pigment to the wind. “I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE YOU, BUT I WASN’T SURE UNTIL YOU STARTED SPOUTING LITTLE FUZZIES.” The voice, although loud, was very cheerful.
A large smile plastered over the face of the newcomer, one of your friends from your former school.
“Inasa!” you cheered. Your hope was rekindled after the meeting his grin with one of your own.
“Y/N” he cheered back, not caring for the puzzled looks he was starting to get from the students around him. You invited him to sit next to you by patting the seat.
“You nervous?” he finally lowered his voice. The years had slowly taught him that you could still be passionate without bursting people’s eardrums, but he tended to forget this when his emotions ran high. “You only make the little butterflies when you’re nervous.” You had known Inasa since your second year at Shiketsu and formed a tenuous friendship when your class and his sparred. While you had become close by graduation, your mentorships were far from each other and contact was sparse.
“Well, you seem nervous too, Mr. Shoutypants.” You pouted to Inasa, who was trying to squeeze his large body into the relatively small seat. The years of training had only made him more muscly, it seemed.
The two of you fell comfortably into friendly banter until the voice of the dean sounded over the sound system, and you both sat in silence for the beginning of your college days at UA.