The sky was barely shifting from navy to violet when Robinn landed in front of U.A.’s campus gates, sneakers hitting pavement with a soft slap. The city behind her still slept, but the academy grounds were already stirring, janitors unlocking maintenance sheds, an upperclassman jogging circuits around the quad. She scanned her ID at the gate, got the soft beep of approval, and stepped inside.

  It was 5:04 a.m. She was, as usual, early.

  The gym was empty when she arrived, the lights buzzing on overhead in rows, bright and sterile. The air smelled like floor wax and rubber mats. Robinn dropped her bag beside the wall, rolled her shoulders, and began her routine.

  No transformations. No shortcuts. Just the rhythm she knew: planks, push-ups, weighted squats, crunches, grip work. Every movement slow and exact, focused like a scalpel.

  Her mind, of course, wasn’t quiet.

  She’d fumbled it. U.S.J. should have been her moment to act, to shine. She’d stopped a few villains, sure... intercepted three who were trying to flank Bakugo and Kirishima. She’d kept them from getting hurt. That part was fine.

  But she hadn’t known All Might was on the scene until it was almost over. Hadn’t known he’d nearly died. Hadn’t known that Midoriya... Midoriya, of all people had been there with him.

  By the time she arrived at the center plaza, the Nomu was already gone. The battle already finished.

  She hadn’t been needed.

  Hadn’t been able to hug him. Hadn’t been able to cry or even check if he was alright because Midoriya was there, looking at him like some damn stand-in son. She’d stood there, stiff and silent, letting the teachers push past, watching from the edge of the crater like a ghost.

  Robinn slammed her fists into the training pads, breath tight, form perfect.

  He should have told her. All Might should have warned her he was going. That he was going to fight like that. That he was going to bleed.

  She kept her punches fast and clean, sweat starting to bead at her brow. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck.

  No use thinking about it now. The time to react was over.

  Time to get better. Stronger. Never be the last one to the scene again.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The clock hit 6:15. Still nearly an hour before class. Her arms trembled faintly, and she was starting to feel the edge of exhaustion. She took a breath, ready to switch to cooldown stretches.

  Then she heard the gym doors creak open.

  Footsteps. Soft and cautious.

  She turned, and of course, it was Midoriya.

  Robinn’s expression shifted immediately, smile rising, posture lightening. The practiced warmth slid into place with the ease of a trained reflex.

  “Morning, Midoriya!” she chirped, voice bright and easy.

  He blinked at her, surprised. “Oh... hey! I didn’t think anyone else would be here this early.”

  She laughed lightly, returning to her stretches. “Gotta stay sharp, right?”

  Internally, she sighed. Of course it was him. Stupid Midoriya, early bird hero-in-training.

  At least he helped save All Might. That counted for something.

  By the time the bell rang for homeroom, Robinn had already showered and changed. She walked the hall with even steps and took her usual seat at the back of Class 1-A’s room, sitting politely with a small smile. Her bag tucked by her chair, hands folded on the desk.

  The classroom filled slowly. Iida was first to arrive and began adjusting his desk. Momo and Hagakure followed, chatting about study groups. Kaminari and Jirou wandered in mid-conversation, with Sero and Mina close behind. Bits of laughter and yawns echoed. Robinn smiled when addressed, nodded when greeted, and otherwise kept to herself.

  The general mood was light but expectant. Everyone knew Aizawa had been injured and hospitalized. Logic dictated a substitute would show.

  “I bet it’s Midnight,” Sero whispered.

  “Or maybe Present Mic!” Hagakure added.

  “You think he’s okay?” Midoriya murmured to Mineta.

  Even Robinn, behind her polite posture, assumed they were right.

  So when the door slid open and the room went quiet, heads turning in unison...

  ...it wasn’t a substitute standing there.

  It was Aizawa. Bandaged from collarbone to cheekbone, eyes shadowed, hair even more unruly than usual. He looked like he’d crawled out of a car accident and fallen into a nap mid-recovery.

  But he was there.

  A few students made noises of disbelief. A couple startled gasps.

  But this just made Robinn respect him even more.

  Aizawa stared at them all for a long moment. Then he muttered, “Take your seats,” even though they already had.

  And just like that, class began.

  He stood at the front of the room, unmoving for a beat. “Before we get into today’s lesson... yes, I’m aware of how I look. No, I’m not dead. Yes, I should be resting. No, I’m not taking a break.”

  He let that hang, then continued in the same tired tone. “There will be time set aside later today for all of you to debrief what happened at the U.S.J. Incident. Hound Dog will be coming in to talk about trauma, emotional processing, and whatever else he thinks you need. Attend it. Engage with it. You’re not robots, and this was not a drill.”

  There was a murmur across the class... mixed relief, discomfort, confusion.

  “We’ll keep moving forward,” Aizawa said simply, turning to write the day’s material. “That’s what heroes do.”

  The lesson began, but the weight of U.S.J. lingered like smoke in the corners of the room.

  Robinn didn’t flinch at the mention of trauma. She already knew she’d ignore every word of that talk. But she’d sit there anyway. Smile in place. Polite and composed. Just like always.