The uniform was heavy.

Not in a sense that the clothes weighed too much but their meaning… the U.A. uniform. She fingered her collar, loosening the tie around her neck and shifting the blazer on her shoulders. It was too big for her, made her feel like she was a block… scrunching her nose, the girl shrugged it off and tied the arms around her waist. Not as formal… but… oh well. She smiled, small fangs pressing into her bottom lip…

"Mitzuki! Are you ready to go?" Looking away from the mirror on her door, she looked down the hallway to see her mother's head peeked around the corner. "You're going to be late hun, you don't want Aizawa to pick on you. Didn't your father tell you he's a stickler for the rules? Now hurry up, I already have your bag packed." She heard the woman withdraw with a sigh and she went back to preparing, pulling on her tights that were specially made for her, the bottoms were strong and protected the soles of her feet but still allowed her to feel the ground. She wiggled her toes, nodded to herself and grabbed her phone, skipping out of her room and to the kitchen where her mother waited in her chair.

"Sorry momma," she said, picking her bag off of the table and checking the contents to find the books she'd need for today. She was quick to sling it over her shoulder, leaning down to kiss her mom on the cheek and rushing out, "love you!" And she was already out the door.

The walk to campus was long, Tamashī and her parents didn't have a large or fancy home and were in fact not the most wealthy of people. But they were happy… well, she and her mother were. Catching the train would shorten her journey, but the crowds were something she hardly ever looked forward to… a few months ago a small child had pulled harshly on her tail, causing her to shriek and scare half the passengers on it… she had been embarrassed the rest of the week and insisted on walking everywhere. Said tail was currently hidden, wrapped around her midsection under her uniform… they had yet to alter the skirt for her and she felt uneasy about the mutations on her body. There was nothing Tamashī could do about her ears or narrowed eyes but she managed to neatly trim her nails to a point where they didn't look pointy. Even if she had to do them each morning.

She pulled out her train pass, scanning through the machines and weaving between the people looking for their trains. There were so many people milling around her, it was hard to keep track of everything, to the point she thought she spotted another U.A. uniform in the distance but it moved from sight before she could get a proper look at it. .

The speakers above her called for the boarding of her train, and she was quick to push through people in the way. She got bumped into, causing her to shift and move away only to have the same issue. Cramped spaces… she shook her head and raised a hand to the collar around her neck, hardly aesthetic at all.

Tamashī was… in all honesty, nervous. She had never been to a big school and in fact, getting into U.A. had been a miracle if not for her recommendation from Erasure Head. A no nonsense man that she had known since she was a baby, he was practically her uncle.

Her fingers, still on the collar, quivered.

She had been notified that all the staff had been made aware of the dangers of her quirk and how to incapacitate her should an issue arise. Her ears pressed against her head as she chewed on her bottom lip. The collar was issued to her at the age of five after an incident that landed her in the newspaper… She lost control and attacked a family, managing to hospitalize a low ranked hero that had stepped up. Due to her age, her family got a slap on the wrist and the incident was kept under wraps. The collar was designed to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure, alerting the device if she were to transform and sedate her. Taking it off required a code she was not privy to as a safety measure and Tamashī was fine with that… It made her feel safe.

People started getting off the train as it stopped at her station, and she followed, keeping her head down and eyes straight ahead. Her short stature made it easy for people to run into her, Tamashī constantly had people bumping into her and she always had to be sharp and quick on her feet. Many people were quick to dip their head and apologize but on the rare occasion people seemed to go out of their way to force the girl to the ground with a sharp shove with their shoulder, sneering at her as they walked away.

She didn't like those people.

Her phone buzzed as she exited the station, it was her mother.

[Mama]:

Have a good day darling, don't let anyone bully you or I'll have to have some words! Oh, and do tell Shota I said hello, he hasn't visited in some time.

Tamashī smiled, her mother was kind natured and always thought of others before herself. She had to put her phone away quickly before she bumped into someone. With people coming out of the building, she was bound to run into people from U.A. something she was anxious and eager about all at the same time.

She had spent the rest of her walk speed-walking. She was almost positive Aizawa would single her out for being tardy. She could always come up with an excuse, not that he ever bought them. She was quick to pass through the gates, eyeing anyone that gave her a second glance. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and her collar thrum against her neck, the light on the side probably giving a dull yellow glow as a warning that her heart had sped up. Tamashī was quick to calm herself when she got inside by placing a hand on her chest and breathing deeply.

Four counts in, eight counts out.

Her technique for slowing down the rate of her heart, something a doctor had told her years ago that stuck.

On the walls were massive numbers, the classrooms she guessed. She neared the large number one, and as she did a yellow mass entered her line of view… right in front of the door.

"Why is he… on the floor…" She released a sigh, padding up to the door to see two students in the doorway, looking shocked at the fact that their teacher was not only in a huge puffy sleeping bag, but laying on the floor. Well… he unzipped the bag, climbing out.

"It took eight seconds for you to quiet down." He muttered, "time is a precious resource. You lot aren't very rational, are you?" He was quiet for a moment, Tamashī was sure a student had spoken. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Pleased to meet you."

The classroom seemed to echo with the unanimous; "Homeroom teacher?!"

"Quickly now," Aizawa said, "change into your gym clothes and head out to the grounds." He narrowed his eyes, holding his sleeping bag close. "You too, Tamashī." She almost flinched.

Ah… he saw her.

.

.

.

Tamashī hadn't joined the other girls in the large change rooms and instead gotten changed in a cramped bathroom stall. While Tamashī wasn't exactly an introvert she had never done well with crowds or new people. She had to run to catch up to everyone, putting her bag in the classroom before going outside. Aizawa had already started his explanation and was giving her a pointed look as she peered at him from behind the crowd of her classmates.

"U.A. is known for its "freestyle" educational system. That applies to us teachers as well."

The class seemed confused more than anything, including Tamashī. The man had never really talked about U.A. when she was younger… in fact he wasn't much of a talker in general. Aizawa continued his explanation.

"Softball throwing, the standing long jump, the fifty meter dash, endurance running, grip strength, side to side stepping, upper body training and seated toe touch." He listed. "You did these all in middle school, yes? Your standard no-quirks-allowed gym test. This country still insists on prohibiting quirks when calculating the average of those records. It's not rational. The department of education is just procrastinating."

Tamashī frowned as the man eyed the class.

"Bakugo." Aizawa called. "How far could you throw in middle school?" A tall blonde stepped forward, a permanent scowl on his face.

"Sixty seven meters." The boy said. Tamashī's frown deeped, she herself had only been able to throw a softball thirty two meters, even at her peak.

"Great. Now try it with your quirk." Aizawa tossed the blonde, Bakugo, a softball. "Do whatever you need to do. Just don't leave the circle." He drawled tiredly. "Give it all you've got."

"Awesome." The blonde rasped, stretching his arms with a wicked smile on his face. He launched forward with a devastating explosion emitting from his palm; "Die!" The explosion sent wind towards everyone, and Tamashī gripped at her shirt. There was no way she could match that-

"It's important for us to know our limits." Aizawa interrupted her thoughts, holding a device towards the class. "That's the first rational step to figuring out what kind of heroes you'll be."

705.2 meters is what the device showed them all… Tamashī balked as the class seemed to get excited.

"Whoa! This is awesome!"

"Seven hundred and five meters? Seriously?"

"So we can use our quirks for real! Man, the hero course is great!?"

Aizawa was still for a moment, speaking under his breath. "Awesome... you say?" He began slowly as his eyebrows knitted. "You're hoping to become heroes after three years here… and think it'll all be fun and games?" His eyes had narrowed dangerously and the class seemed to shiver. "Right. The one with the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless… and be expelled." Everyone was shocked, Tamashī more than anyone.

"Your fates are in our hands." Aizawa said, lifting his head and pushing his fringe away from his eyes. "Welcome. This is… the Hero Course at U.A. High."

How cruel, Shota. She thought dullfully.

.

.

.

Tamashī hadn't ever pictured someone who was basically her uncle to be this cruel. Threatening a group of teenagers that only aspired to be heroes. She clicked her tongue, watching as a pair of her classmates prepared for the fifty meter dash.

"That was mean, Shota." Tamashī hummed to her teacher, staring up at him. He only scowled at her.

"Don't call me that, Tamashī. I'm your teacher here, nothing else." He turned away from her, watching the angry blonde and a green haired boy run, "go line up. You're running next." Cold as always, she huffed and the tail stuffed under her uniform twitched anxiously as she looked to the classmate she had been paired up with.

The barefooted girl hurried over to the other classmate waiting for her, a boy with a bird head… how weird. Not that those kinds of mutations were unheard of. She had seen a pink girl in the group… she didn't talk to the bird boy, instead crouching down and eyeing the finish line. He seemed to copy her, though didn't lower himself as much as Tamashī had. She was basically on all fours when they launched off and finished ahead of bird boy.

"Tamashī Mitzuki, four point twelve seconds!" The machine dinged. There was an angered shout.

"How could this midget be faster than me!" The blonde. Tamashī stepped back, looking to Aizawa as Bakugo glared her down furiously. "This test better be rigged!" She ignored the explosions as she walked away.

.

.

.

Grip strength was… anticlimactic to say the least. Tamashī had never been particularly strong unlike her classmate with multiple arms, Shoji his name was, who got a score of five hundred and forty kilos from the small hand held machines. Needless to say, she only got nineteen point four.

Long jump however… Tamashī had well and truly cleared the sandbox, leaving a few of her classmates awed.

The repeated side steps were nothing exciting but… the small child like boy had gotten the best scores using his quirk. She had almost gotten dizzy watching him bounce back and forth between what looked like sticky purple grapes.

Now for the ball throw. The class had moved back to the field they'd started off in and Tamashī wasn't looking forward to it… especially after Bakugo's throw earlier. And as expected… she got fifty eight meters. For a moment she kind of stood there, staring at the ball after her anticlimactic throw.

Well…

She dipped her head and walked back to settle a few meters away from the group as Aizawa tossed the ball to the green haired boy. "Midoriya."

"Midoriya isn't doing very well…" The boy with glasses commented, Iida. She had made sure to memorize everyone's names from the tests. Not like she had asked for them yet after all.

"Well duh!" Bakugo sneered. "He's a quirkless runt!"

He's quirkless…?

"Quirkless!? So you haven't heard of his feats during the entrance exam!?"

Tamashī watched Midoriya carefully… narrowed eyes taking note of how he tensed before pitching the ball as hard as he could.

"Forty six meters."

Suddenly Tamashī felt better about her own throw but the poor boy looked utterly shocked.

"I erased your quirk." Aizawa spoke up. "That ridiculous entrance exam… completely irrational considering someone like you got in." His harsh words did nothing to lessen the shocked expression on Midoriya's face.

"Erased…? Those goggles… of course..!" A lightbulb looked to have turned on in his head. "His quirk nullified other's quirks just by looking at them! He's the Erasure Hero, Eraser Head!"

The rest of the class seemed confused but Tamashī could understand why. Shota had always hated the spotlight and the press unlike others such as All Might. He almost always worked at night and avoided the press at all costs.

"Whatever you were planning," Aizawa said, pulling Midoriya in with his scarf like a fish on a reel, "it would have inconvenienced those around you. Way back when, a certain hot-blooded hero saved over a thousand people during a disaster. He made himself a legend. You've got the same reckless streak, but… you're totally useless after saving just a single person. Izuku Midoriya, if you continue on this path, you cannot become a hero, even with that power of yours." For a moment, Aizawa glared down at Midoriya in thought before sighing, his hair falling back around his shoulders. "You've got your quirk back… give it another go." Aizawa stepped back to apply eye droppers to his now dried out eyes. "Let's get this over with…"

Tamashī was almost blown away by the results of Aizawa's harsh words. Midoriya had looked just about ready to crumble on the spot, just a gust of wind and he'd tumble. But regardless of how he looked, he got ready for another pitch and at the last second the ball seemed to shoot from his hand.

"Seven hundred and five point three meters!"

"Sensei!" With a broken finger, Midoriya clenched his hand into a fist, his expression nothing less than determined. "I… can still move!"

Tamashī could only stare at Midoriya. She wasn't the only one with a backwards quirk.