Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nezu’s office smelled like tea and old books, the kind of place that felt too refined for a scrappy ten-year-old who reeked of smoke and mischief. Ace sat across from the principal, curled up in an oversized chair, his little arms crossed over his chest. His legs barely reached the floor, but his scowl made up for any lack of intimidation.

Nezu, sitting behind his massive desk, sipped his tea with a pleased hum. “You’ve been busy, Ace.”

Ace huffed, staring at the floor like it owed him an explanation. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Nezu chuckled. He lifted a paw and placed it on his desk, revealing a growing pile of stolen items—half of which Ace swore he had hidden better. A set of All Might keychains, an expensive-looking pen, a single red-and-white sneaker, and even a half-eaten protein bar that Ace was definitely going to finish later.

“I must say,” Nezu continued, eyes twinkling with amusement, “your ability to pilfer from some of the most alert students in the country is quite impressive. Not to mention, no one’s even caught you in the act.”

Ace leaned back in his chair, smirking despite himself. “’Course not. They’re slow. Dumb, too.”

Nezu nodded sagely. “Oh, naturally. After all, why else would they leave their belongings out in the open, just waiting for a clever little thief like you?”

Ace squinted at him. The rat was mocking him. He knew it.

“Are you gonna punish me or what?” Ace grumbled, kicking his feet against the chair. “I ain’t givin’ ‘em back.”

Nezu gasped, placing a paw over his chest in exaggerated shock. “Oh, dear me! Whatever shall I do with such a stubborn child?” He took another sip of tea, tail swishing. “Tell me, Ace, why did you take these things?”

Ace shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Nezu tilted his head, considering him. “You didn’t need them. You didn’t even want most of them. So, why take them?”

Ace shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like when Nezu got all knowing. It made his stomach feel weird.

“…Dunno,” he muttered.

Nezu smiled. “You wanted them to notice, didn’t you?”

Ace’s head snapped up, fire flashing in his eyes. “No.”

Nezu simply chuckled, as if Ace hadn’t just bitten out the word like it was poison. He wasn’t fooled.

“They will notice, you know. And now that they know the ‘Ghost of UA’ is real, they might start looking for you.”

Ace scowled. “I don’t care. They’re all stupid anyway.”

Nezu hummed. “Mmm, but they’re also persistent. And I suspect some of them will be very interested in meeting you.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I ain’t interested in meeting them.”

Nezu’s grin widened. “Oh, my dear boy, I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice.”

Ace stared at him for a long moment, then grabbed the half-eaten protein bar from the desk and took a huge bite, glaring at Nezu like a tiny, feral cat.

Nezu only laughed, eyes twinkling.

Ace chewed the protein bar aggressively, like it had personally offended him. Nezu, still as amused as ever, rested his chin on one paw and watched him with keen eyes.

"You'll be returning the stolen items, of course," Nezu said pleasantly.

Ace almost choked. He swallowed hard, coughing before snapping, "The hell I will!"

Nezu merely tilted his head. "Oh? And why not?"

"'Cause I took 'em fair and square! They shoulda been more careful!" Ace crossed his arms, sinking further into the chair. "Not my fault they’re dumb."

Nezu chuckled. "Oh, I quite agree. If one leaves their valuables unattended, it is only natural that a cunning little thief such as yourself might seize the opportunity."

Ace squinted at him suspiciously. "…Right?"

Nezu’s smile grew wider. "But that is precisely why you must return them. You see, Ace, it's no fun winning a game if the other players don’t know they’re playing. Where’s the challenge in that?"

Ace frowned. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. Taking things was easy. No one saw him, no one caught him. But… if they knew? If they realized he was the one messing with them?

Nezu could see the gears turning in Ace’s little fire-filled head.

"And," Nezu added, sipping his tea, "if you don't return them, I could always inform Aizawa about this."

Ace stiffened. His whole body bristled, like a cat about to bolt.

"You wouldn't," he said, glaring.

Nezu took another sip, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Wouldn’t I?"

Ace gritted his teeth. He wasn’t scared of Aizawa—no way, no how! But the idea of that dry, unimpressed glare, followed by a very long and boring lecture… yeah, no thanks.

"Fine," Ace snapped. "But I ain’t sayin’ sorry!"

Nezu clapped his paws together. "Oh, of course not. That would be outrageous."

Ace grumbled under his breath, grabbing the stolen goods from the desk. He stuffed them into his jacket pockets, cheeks burning with frustration.

Nezu watched him with uncontainable delight. "Oh, and Ace?"

The boy paused at the door, shoulders tense. "What now?"

Nezu’s smile was all teeth. "Do try to be discreet. I would hate for Class 1-A to catch you in the act."

Ace's eye twitched. He slammed the door on his way out.

Nezu chuckled to himself, swirling his tea.

...

Ace grumbled as he stomped through the dorm hallways, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, feeling the weight of the stolen items pressing against his sides. He didn't see why he had to return them. It wasn’t like they deserved to get their stuff back. But Nezu had backed him into a corner, and if there was one thing Ace hated more than being told what to do, it was dealing with Aizawa’s exhausted, disappointed stare.

So, fine. He’d return them.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t take something else while he was at it.

Ace moved like a shadow, slipping into the common area first. Midoriya’s All Might keychain was easy—she left her bag wide open on the couch, so he dropped it inside and kept walking. The expensive pen belonged to Iida, which figured. Nerds always had fancy crap. Ace found his room unlocked and tossed the pen on the desk before backing out without a trace.

The sneaker, though… that one was a problem.

Ace held it up, frowning at it. He still didn’t know whose it was. He’d taken it from outside the training room, and it was too big for most of the girls. Maybe Kirishima? Sero? Whatever. He shoved it into the nearest shoe rack and called it good.

"There. Done," he muttered to himself, dusting off his hands.

…But now that he was here, he might as well make the whole trip worth it.

Ace smirked as he walked through the dorm, eyes scanning for new targets. He swiped a half-full box of Pocky from Kaminari’s desk, a training glove from Bakugo’s room (serves him right for leaving his door cracked open), and a pair of tinted goggles that looked expensive. Probably Yaoyorozu’s. Jackpot.

By the time he slipped out of the dorms, Ace had a fresh stash of stolen goods and the smug satisfaction of knowing Nezu never said he couldn’t take new things.

Ace stuffed a Pocky stick in his mouth, grinning as he made his way back toward his hideout.

This game was just getting started.

...

The Class 1-A common room buzzed with energy as students lounged around, some studying, some scrolling through their phones, and others just talking. But today’s topic wasn’t training schedules or the latest hero rankings—it was the thief.

"I'm telling you, things keep disappearing," Kaminari whined, dramatically slumping over the couch. "I had a whole box of Pocky in my room, and now it’s just gone!”

"Maybe you ate it and forgot," Jirou said, not looking up from her phone.

"I did not!”

Midoriya thoughtfully mentions "Now that you mention it… I lost my All Might keychain a while ago, and then it just reappeared in my bag one day.”

"That happened to me too!" Iida adjusted his glasses, looking troubled. "My pen went missing for an entire week before I found it back on my desk! But I always keep it in my case, so how did it disappear in the first place?"

Kirishima leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay, so, stuff’s been going missing for a while, yeah? But lately, it's getting worse. Ever since we moved into the dorms, it’s happening way more often."

The group went quiet, an eerie realization settling over them.

"Do you guys think..." Sero hesitated, glancing around the room before lowering his voice, "it could be the UA ghost?"

There was a pause. Then, predictably—

"That's so stupid," Bakugo scoffed from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. "There’s no damn ghost. Just some dumbass stealing our stuff."

"But it fits!" Kaminari sat up, suddenly excited. "Think about it! Stuff used to disappear sometimes, but now it’s happening all the time! What if we’re being haunted?"

"By a ghost that steals Pocky?" Todoroki deadpanned.

"Well, yeah," Kaminari said, ignoring the flat look he got in return. "You’ve heard the story, right? The UA ghost?!"

Several students nodded. The myth had been around for years, whispered between students as a cautionary tale.

Mina grinned. "Ooooh, tell it!"

Kaminari dramatically cleared his throat, hands held out like he was setting the scene. "So, a long time ago, there was a UA student who died mysteriously. No one knows how, but some say it was a villain attack. Others say it was an accident during training."

Jirou smirked. "Some say Aizawa expelled him so hard he just ceased to exist."

Kaminari waved her off. "Anyway! His spirit never left UA! Now, he haunts the campus, but he doesn’t just lurk in the shadows or flicker the lights—he steals things! Small things at first, but if he really doesn’t like you… he’ll take something important."

The room fell silent.

Then Yaoyorozu let out a small sigh. "It's a cute story, but let’s be realistic—someone is obviously sneaking into rooms and taking things."

"Yeah," Sero said, "but who? We’d notice if a classmate was doing it."

"That’s the weird part," Kirishima muttered. "No one’s ever caught them. Ever."

They sat with that thought for a moment.

Then Mina gasped. "Wait! What if it is a ghost?! What if it's a vengeful spirit stealing from us as revenge for his untimely death?!"

Kaminari snapped his fingers. "Exactly! He died tragically, and now he makes sure no student can live in peace!"

"That’s stupid," Bakugo repeated, clearly done with the entire conversation.

"Then how do you explain it?"

Bakugo scoffed. "Some sneaky little shit is messing with us, and when I find them, I’m gonna—”

"—explode them into oblivion?" Todoroki finished.

Bakugo growled.

Iida cleared his throat. "Regardless of whether it is a ghost—" He shot Kaminari and Mina a look. "—or a very stealthy thief, this cannot continue. We must catch the culprit!"

Kirishima grinned. "Hell yeah! We should set a trap!"

Excited murmurs spread through the room as students threw out ideas. Stakeouts, hidden cameras, even laying out fake valuables as bait.

The Class 1-A common room buzzed with excitement as students gathered in a loose circle, throwing around ideas. It wasn’t every day that they got to hunt down a ghost—or, more realistically, a thief—but either way, it was a challenge, and that meant it was fun.

"Alright, we need a plan," Kirishima said, rubbing his hands together. "Whoever this is, they’re crazy sneaky. So we gotta outthink ‘em!"

"Are we really doing this?" Jirou asked, raising an eyebrow. "We could just tell Aizawa."

"And risk him thinking we’re all crazy?" Kaminari shot back. "No thanks. Besides, where’s the fun in that?"

Iida frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Kaminari, this is a serious matter. If someone is sneaking into our dorms, it could be dangerous! The logical course of action is to report it."

"But what do we report?" Mina countered. "We don’t even know who’s doing it! Or how they’re getting in and out without us noticing."

Sero nodded. "Yeah, and it’s not like we have proof. If we tell Aizawa now, he might just brush it off."

"Or worse," Kirishima added, grinning, "he might tell us to drop it."

That got everyone’s attention.

Aizawa was great, but he had a habit of shutting down things that wasted time—especially if it didn’t involve actual danger. If they wanted to catch this mystery thief, they had to do it before Aizawa caught wind of their plans.

"We need a trap," Kaminari said, grinning. "Something super smart—like, genius level."

"That rules you out," Bakugo muttered.

Kaminari ignored him. "We could leave something valuable out in the open, set up cameras, and boom! We catch ‘em in the act!"

"Or," Yaoyorozu suggested, "we could assign people to watch different areas of the dorms overnight. That way, if something goes missing, we’ll know who was on duty at the time."

"But how do we know they’re not sneaky enough to avoid us again?" Mina asked, leaning forward. "We need bait. Good bait."

Everyone turned to look at Todoroki.

He blinked. "What?"

"You have rich-kid stuff," Kaminari said, grinning. "You have to have something shiny and expensive to use as bait."

Todoroki frowned. "I'm not just going to offer my things to be stolen."

"Aww, come on! For science!" Mina pleaded.

Todoroki stared at them for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But if this is a ghost, don’t blame me when it curses you instead."

Mina shuddered. "You think ghosts can curse people?"

"You’re the one who brought up vengeance."

The class continued to debate the best course of action, torn between stakeouts, cameras, and using Todoroki as an unwilling bait donor. Meanwhile, Ace—still hidden above them, watching from a vent—muffled a laugh.

This was gonna be fun.

At first, Class 1-A had been excited about their plan. They were ready to catch the thief—or ghost, depending on who you asked. They had carefully placed Todoroki’s expensive watch on his desk, left Kaminari’s favorite wireless earbuds out in the open, and even "forgotten" some snacks in the common area.

And then…

Nothing happened.

Not that week. Not the next.

The missing items stopped disappearing entirely.

At first, they thought maybe they were just being paranoid. But after weeks of stolen goods vanishing like magic, for everything to suddenly stop? It was suspicious.

"Okay," Kaminari groaned, flopping over the back of the couch, "what if we scared it off?"

"You mean the thief?" Yaoyorozu corrected.

"Or the ghost," Mina added, wiggling her fingers for dramatic effect.

Jirou sighed. "It’s probably because we started talking about it. Whoever was taking our stuff must’ve realized we were onto them."

"But wouldn’t they at least try to take something?" Sero asked. "It’s been weeks. No one’s lost anything. That’s weirder than stuff going missing."

There was a pause.

Then Kirishima hesitated. "What if it really was a ghost?"

Bakugo scoffed. "Oh my god—"

"No, hear me out!" Kirishima held up his hands. "What if the spirit knew we were trying to trap it? Like, what if we offended it or something, and now it’s just watching us, waiting for the right time to strike?"

A heavy silence settled over them.

Mina shuddered. "That’s way creepier than it just stealing stuff."

Todoroki, seemingly unbothered, sipped his tea. "I warned you about curses."

Kaminari groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I knew this was a bad idea! We should’ve left it alone!"

Iida, who had been quietly thinking, suddenly spoke up. "If nothing has been stolen in weeks, then there are only two possibilities."

He held up a finger. "One: The thief has given up and will not return."

Then he raised a second. "Or two: They’re waiting for us to let our guard down."

A long silence followed.

Then, slowly, everyone turned to look at Todoroki’s desk, where his expensive watch still sat untouched.

It had been sitting there for two weeks. In the open. And no one had taken it.

Mina swallowed. "Yeah, okay, so maybe we are haunted."

Ace, who was currently munching on a stolen Pocky stick while listening from a nearby vent, smirked to himself.

They had no idea what they were up against.

...

Midoriya and a few of his classmates were walking down one of the quieter hallways of UA when loud voices caught their attention.

"—I don’t care how fast or sneaky you think you are!"

They stopped in their tracks.

That was Vlad King, and he sounded mad.

"You need to cut it out, kid! Do you think this is funny?! Stealing from the students and sneaking around like a little gremlin?!"

Midoriya exchanged confused glances with Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki. Who was he talking to?

From where they stood, they could see Vlad King standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed and scowling. But the weird part?

There was no one else there.

"...Is he talking to himself?" Uraraka whispered.

"I don’t think so," Iida murmured, eyes narrowed.

Midoriya took a hesitant step forward, trying to peek around the corner. But from their angle, they still couldn't see anyone else.

"Don’t just stare at me!" Vlad snapped at seemingly nothing. "Say something!"

Silence.

Vlad groaned, rubbing his temples. "Nezu might think this is amusing, but I don’t! You think you’re so clever, huh? Stealing things right under everyone’s noses and making the students think there’s a ghost? Well, news flash—I know you’re real!"

Midoriya’s blood ran cold.

The ghost?

Had Vlad King caught the thief? But why couldn't they see him?

Todoroki frowned. "Maybe he’s yelling at a student using an invisibility Quirk?"

Midoriya shook his head. "If that were the case, wouldn’t we hear them talking?"

Vlad let out a long sigh. "Look, I don’t care what Nezu says. I will drag you to Aizawa if this keeps up. So knock it off."

More silence.

Then—out of nowhere—a crumpled snack wrapper came flying through the air and hit Vlad square in the forehead.

Midoriya and the others gasped.

"Okay, that’s it!" Vlad growled. He turned sharply, storming down the hallway. "You better run, brat!"

Midoriya watched as the teacher stomped away—still yelling—but still, there was no one there.

No footprints. No movement. No sign that anyone had been standing in that hallway.

Just Vlad King.

Arguing with thin air.

Uraraka gulped. "…Guys? I think the ghost is real."

The moment Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, and Uraraka stepped into the dorms, the rest of Class 1-A immediately noticed something was up.

"Whoa, what’s with those faces?" Kaminari asked, tilting his head. "You guys look like you saw a villain. Or, like, I dunno—a ghost."

The four of them exchanged glances.

"…About that," Midoriya started hesitantly.

"We think the ghost is real," Uraraka blurted out.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"WHAT?!"

The common room exploded with noise as everyone started talking at once.

"Hold on, hold on!" Kirishima waved his hands. "Back up! What do you mean you think it’s real?!"

"We saw Vlad King arguing with thin air," Midoriya explained, still looking unsettled. "He was yelling at something, but we couldn’t see anyone there."

"And then," Uraraka added, eyes wide, "a snack wrapper just flew out of nowhere and hit him in the face!"

Kaminari’s jaw dropped. "Like—on its own?!"

"We didn’t see anyone throw it," Todoroki confirmed, arms crossed.

Jirou frowned. "Okay, but that doesn’t prove it’s a ghost. Maybe someone has an invisibility Quirk?"

Iida shook his head. "That was our first thought as well, but there was no sound. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. And they didn’t even run when Vlad King got mad—they just vanished."

The group went quiet, absorbing the information.

Mina shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, so, best case scenario? There’s a super sneaky thief we haven’t caught yet."

"And worst case?" Sero asked.

Mina gulped. "We’re being haunted."

A heavy silence followed.

Then Kaminari groaned and flopped onto the couch. "Nope. Nope. I refuse to believe we live in a haunted dorm."

"That would explain why the thief stopped stealing from us," Kirishima muttered. "Maybe they just wanted to mess with us instead."

Yaoyorozu crossed her arms. "This is ridiculous. We need actual proof before we jump to conclusions."

"Then let’s get proof!" Kaminari sat up, determined. "If it’s a person, we catch them! If it’s a ghost… well, I dunno, we call an exorcist or something!"

Jirou sighed. "This is getting way out of hand."

"But we need to know!" Midoriya insisted. "If someone really is sneaking around UA, we can’t just ignore it!"

The class looked around at each other. Some looked skeptical, some nervous, and some—like Kaminari and Mina—were weirdly excited.

Finally, Kirishima grinned. "Alright. We’re catching this thing—ghost or not."

Ace, who was perched in an unseen hiding spot near the ceiling, barely held back his laughter.

These guys were so easy to mess with.

The room was buzzing with energy, students debating strategies on how to catch—or, in Mina’s words, exorcise—the so-called ghost. Then, amidst the chaos, a low, serious voice cut through the noise.

“There is no need for reckless action,” Tokoyami said, arms crossed. “If this is truly a spirit, you are all woefully unprepared to deal with it.”

Everyone turned to him.

“You know about this stuff?” Kirishima asked, surprised.

Tokoyami nodded solemnly. “I have studied the occult. If a spirit roams these halls, then only those with a deeper understanding of the darkness can hope to reveal its true nature.”

Mina shuddered. “See? SEE?! Even Tokoyami thinks it’s real!”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “Of course he does.”

Tokoyami ignored her skepticism. “There are many types of spirits. If this one is a mere trickster, it may simply be toying with us. However, if its intentions are darker…” He trailed off, his expression grim.

Mineta gulped. “D-Darker how?”

“Spirits can be restless for many reasons,” Tokoyami continued, closing his eyes in thought. “Unfinished business, unresolved rage… or a tragic demise.” He slowly opened his eyes, glowing faintly under the dim dorm lights.

The room went deathly silent.

“That’s what the stories say,” Tokoyami confirmed. “A ghost of a child, forever wandering the halls, avenging their death by stealing from the living.”

Tsuyu paled. “That’s exactly what the rumors say.”

Aoyama grabbed his head. “Oh my god, I don’t wanna get haunted—”

Todoroki, unfazed, sipped his tea. “Wouldn’t a ghost steal things with sentimental value rather than snacks?”

Mina threw her hands in the air. “Who cares?! We are dealing with a ghost!”

Shoji sighed. “We don’t know that.”

Tokoyami, still serious, turned to Midoriya. “You said Vlad King spoke to the presence?”

Midoriya nodded. “Yeah. He acted like he could see them, but we couldn’t.”

Tokoyami considered this. “Then we must approach this carefully. If this being is intelligent enough to understand and respond, it is no mere illusion. We need to confront it directly.”

The class exchanged uneasy glances.

“How do we do that?” Sero asked.

Tokoyami smirked. “We lure it out. And this time, it won’t escape unseen.”

Ace, still hidden above them, tilted his head, intrigued.

Now this, he thought, was getting interesting.

The plan was set. Class 1-A was determined to catch their mysterious thief—or, as many of them now believed, the ghost.

But Ace? Ace saw a golden opportunity.

They wanted a ghost? He’d give them a ghost.

That night, the students stayed up late, nervously gathered in the common area. Some had makeshift “ghost traps” ready—whatever that meant. Kaminari held a flashlight like a weapon, while Mina clutched a handful of salt, ready to throw it at the first sign of trouble. Tokoyami sat with his arms crossed, his eyes closed in deep concentration, as if summoning some dark knowledge.

Ace had to physically stop himself from laughing.

They were making this too easy.

Creeping through the vents, Ace moved silently, carefully placing small objects in the perfect spots. A few misplaced books here, a chair that was ever-so-slightly moved, an eerie shadow cast by the flickering lights—just enough to make them doubt their senses.

Then, when the room was quiet…

He started.

A soft, distant tapping echoed through the dorm.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kirishima stiffened. “Did you hear that?”

Then came the whispering.

A faint, barely-there voice, drifting through the air—just loud enough to reach their ears.

“…leave…”

Jirou bolted upright. “Okay. No. NOPE.”

Kaminari clutched the flashlight. “Wh-what did it say?! Did it say leave?!”

“Maybe it was the wind?” Yaoyorozu offered weakly, though she didn’t look convinced.

Ace smirked. Time for the fun part.

He blew lightly over the back of Kaminari’s neck.

Kaminari screamed.

“IT’S TOUCHING ME!” he shrieked, flailing and throwing himself into Kirishima’s arms.

Mina screamed too. “IT’S REAL! IT’S REAL!”

Sero grabbed a pillow like it was a shield. “SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!”

“STAND YOUR GROUND!” Tokoyami bellowed, though even he looked unnerved.

Ace bit his lip to keep from laughing. He wasn’t done yet.

Moving unseen, he grabbed the edge of a chair and dragged it across the floor. The screeching noise echoed through the room, sharp and unnatural.

They lost it.

Kirishima, in pure panic, hardened his entire body. Uraraka screamed and accidentally made herself float. Kaminari and Mina clung to each other, full-on crying. Even Todoroki, usually calm, was gripping his cup so tightly the ceramic was cracking.

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!” Kaminari wailed.

And just for the finishing touch—Ace whispered, right into Aoyama’s ear:

“...get out…”

Aoyama fainted.

“HE’S DOWN!” Sero yelped.

“RUN!” Mineta shrieked, already halfway to the stairs.

Panic erupted. Students scrambled in every direction, knocking over furniture, diving behind couches—Yaoyorozu actually created a katana. Tokoyami yelled something about “embracing the abyss,” while Kaminari was too busy sobbing to move.

Ace could not hold it in anymore. He clamped a hand over his mouth, shaking with silent laughter as absolute chaos unfolded below him.

This was too easy.

And the best part?

They still had no idea it was him.

Ace was having the time of his life.

Messing with these students was so easy.

After their initial panic, Class 1-A tried to regroup—but Ace wasn’t about to let them recover.

He started small.

Every time someone set something down, he moved it when they weren’t looking. Mina put her water bottle on the table? Gone. Tokoyami’s flashlight? Turned off mysteriously. Kaminari’s phone? Slid across the floor just as he reached for it.

“NOPE,” Kaminari said, standing up. “I’M DONE.”

“Sit down,” Iida snapped, though even he looked unnerved.

Then Ace got bolder.

Mineta shrieked like a dying animal and collapsed.

“IT TOUCHED ME!”

Mina jumped onto the couch. “IT’S TAKING US ONE BY ONE!”

Yaoyorozu clutched her katana like a lifeline. “STAY TOGETHER! IF WE SHOW FEAR, WE LOSE!”

Ace grinned.

This was too much fun.

Moving silently, he reached out and ever-so-gently tugged on Jirou’s earphone jacks.

Jirou bolted upright, her eyes wide with pure horror.

“NOPE. NOPE. I’M DONE. I’M OUT.” She turned and ran.

Ace almost choked on his own laughter. This was the best entertainment he’d had in ages.

Then—

A hand suddenly grabbed his collar from behind.

Ace barely had a second to process it before he was yanked backward, straight out of his hiding spot.

His eyes widened.

“Oh, shit—”

“Language,” Aizawa’s voice deadpanned behind him.

Ace stiffened.

Oh.

Oh, no.

He turned his head slowly to find himself dangling from Aizawa’s grip like a misbehaving cat. The man’s tired eyes were staring at him with deep disappointment.

Ace grimaced.

Busted.

Aizawa sighed. “I knew you were up to something.”

Ace crossed his arms. “Tch. Took you long enough.”

Aizawa tightened his grip slightly.

Ace winced. “Okay, okay—ow.”

“You’re lucky they’re too distracted to notice me grabbing you,” Aizawa muttered. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Annoying them,” Ace answered immediately.

Aizawa exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “You little gremlin.”

Ace smirked. “Your little gremlin.”

Aizawa closed his eyes for a long moment. He regretted everything.

“…I should give you detention.”

Ace snorted. “Like that’ll stop me.”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thanks,” Ace said, grinning.

Aizawa dropped him unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Ow,” Ace muttered, rubbing his backside.

Aizawa crossed his arms. “You will stop messing with them.”

Ace, still grinning, tilted his head. “Or what?”

Aizawa leaned down, eyes glowing slightly. “Or I’ll start messing with you.”

Ace felt a chill go down his spine.

“…Noted,” he muttered.

Aizawa gave him one last pointed look before turning and vanishing into the shadows.

Ace exhaled.

Welp. That was a minor setback.

…But he wasn’t done yet.

Not by a long shot.

Chapter Text

The events in Class 1-A’s dorms had started as whispers among their own, but within days, those whispers had spread.

By the end of the week, the entire school was talking about it.

Students from other classes exchanged hushed conversations in the hallways. The once-dismissed myth of UA’s ghost had become something much worse—a legend.

“I heard it whispered into Jirou’s ear.”

“They say Kaminari felt it breathe on his neck.”

“Iida tried to confront it, but it moved his glasses before he could react.”

“I heard it dragged a chair across the room—like it wanted them to know it was watching.”

“Mineta cried for his mom.”

“That’s not even a rumor, that’s just a fact.”

Some dismissed it. Some laughed. Others?

They believed.

Even Class 1-B, who usually rolled their eyes at 1-A’s dramatics, wasn’t immune to the rumors.

“Seriously, you guys think a ghost is stealing your stuff?” Monoma scoffed. “Maybe you should stop being so careless—”

Aizawa walked past them with his usual tired expression, but this time, his red eyes flickered to the side for a brief moment.

Right toward Monoma.

Monoma froze.

Then—his pencil case slid off his desk on its own.

The room went silent.

Monoma paled.

“…Never mind.”

The paranoia spread fast.

Some students started avoiding the dorm hallways at night. A few first-years from the Support Course insisted they had seen shadows move when no one was there. One brave soul from General Studies tried staying up late in the common room, only for his drink to mysteriously vanish from his hand.

Some said it was the spirit of a forgotten student.

Others claimed it was a vengeful soul.

But everyone agreed on one thing.

UA was haunted.

And Ace?

Ace was loving every second of it.

Ace had barely stepped into the hallway before a familiar voice called out.

“Ace, my dear little ghost, come in.”

Ace stopped in his tracks.

Nezu’s office door was already open.

Ace sighed.

Busted again.

He dragged his feet toward the office, stepping inside with his usual slouch. Nezu sat on his oversized chair, paws neatly folded on his desk, eyes twinkling with amusement.

The principal didn’t even look mad. If anything, he looked delighted.

“Sit,” Nezu said, motioning to the chair in front of him.

Ace plopped down, crossing his arms. “So,” he said, grinning, “you finally caught on?”

Nezu chuckled. “Oh, I was aware from the beginning.”

Ace blinked. “Huh?”

Nezu tilted his head. “Ace, dear, you live in my school. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Ace frowned. “Then why didn’t you stop me?”

Nezu’s smile widened. “Because it was entertaining.”

Ace grinned. He liked Nezu.

But the principal’s smile remained sharp. “However,” he continued, “as much as I enjoy a good harmless prank, the teachers are beginning to complain.”

Ace snorted. “Bunch of killjoys.”

Nezu nodded. “Perhaps. But we can’t have students too distracted from their studies, can we?”

Ace smirked. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Nezu’s ears twitched. “Oh? And what if I made it your problem?”

Ace frowned. “…What does that mean?”

Nezu just smiled, sipping his tea.

Ace didn’t like that smile.

Nezu leaned forward slightly. “I’ve heard some very convincing rumors, you know.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “A ghost that whispers in the night… steals from the living… moves objects unseen…” His sharp eyes gleamed. “It would be a shame if one of our resident pro heroes started looking too closely into it.”

Ace stiffened.

Nezu’s smile widened.

Ah.

There it was.

Ace sighed dramatically, slumping in his chair. “Alright, fine. I’ll stop.”

Nezu’s ears perked up. “Really?”

Ace nodded, smirking. “Yup. I’ll quit.”

Nezu studied him for a moment. Then he chuckled.

“Oh, Ace,” he said, shaking his head, “you are a terrible liar.”

Ace grinned innocently. “Me? Lying? I’d never.”

Nezu just hummed. “I suppose I’ll let you finish whatever you’re planning.”

Ace blinked. “…Wait, really?”

Nezu nodded. “Consider it my parting gift to your little performance.”

Ace stared at him.

Nezu’s grin was mischievous.

For a moment, Ace almost felt bad for Class 1-A.

…Almost.

Ace had one last job to pull before he retired from haunting UA.

If he was going out, he was going out with style.

He had stolen small things before—pens, notebooks, water bottles—but this time? This time, he was aiming for something bigger.

Something that would cement the legend of UA’s ghost forever.

His target?

Class 1-A’s entire collection of pillows and blankets from their common room.

It was perfect.

With how paranoid they were, they’d wake up to a completely stripped common area and lose their minds.

It would be beautiful.

Ace had spent the entire day scouting. He knew their schedule now—who stayed up late, who went to bed early, and most importantly, when the common room was empty.

By midnight, the coast was clear.

Ace slipped in, as quiet as a shadow.

He grinned.

Showtime.

One by one, he gathered every pillow and blanket, stuffing them into a giant sack he had borrowed from Support Course storage. He worked quickly, efficiently. Within minutes, the entire couch was bare, the armchairs stripped, and even Kaminari’s favorite beanbag was missing.

He laughed under his breath.

This was too easy.

Ace slung the sack over his shoulder, moving toward the exit—

Only to freeze.

Something felt… off.

His instincts prickled.

He slowly turned his head.

Nothing.

The common room was still dark, empty.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Ace’s eyes narrowed. He took another step—

“Gotcha!”

Ace yelled as something grabbed his arm.

His body reacted instantly, twisting away, but the grip didn’t let go.

Ace’s eyes widened.

Hagakure.

The invisible girl.

Ace cursed.

Shit.

Hagakure gasped. “Oh my god! I knew it wasn’t a ghost!”

Ace tried to shake her off. “Let go!”

“No way!” she said, gripping his wrist tighter. “You’re the thief!”

Ace scowled.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

He had planned everything perfectly. No one was supposed to catch him.

Yet here he was—bag full of stolen goods, busted by the one person he couldn’t see coming.

Ace glared at her. “You sneaky little—”

“You’re the sneaky one!” Hagakure shot back. “You’ve been stealing from everyone!”

Ace grinned. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’M GONNA WAKE EVERYONE UP!” she shrieked.

Ace panicked. “WAIT—”

But it was too late.

Hagakure took a deep breath.

And screamed.

Ace flinched.

“YOU IDIOT, SHUT UP!” he hissed.

But it was too late.

Doors slammed open. Footsteps pounded down the halls.

And within seconds—

Ace was surrounded.

Class 1-A burst into the common room, half-asleep but fully armed.

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?!” Midoriya shouted, eyes wide.

“WHO DARES DISTURB THE NIGHT?!” Tokoyami bellowed dramatically.

“I’LL KILL IT!” Bakugo roared, explosions sparking in his palms.

“WAIT—” Midoriya’s eyes landed on Ace. “—WHO IS THAT?!”

Ace froze.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

None of them had ever seen him before.

Which meant…

They didn’t know he was lives here.

Ace quickly took stock of the situation.

He was still holding the bag full of stolen blankets.

Hagakure had an iron grip on his wrist.

And Class 1-A looked one second away from throwing hands.

Ace forced a grin. “Uh… hey?”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Iida demanded.

“HE WAS STEALING OUR STUFF!” Hagakure shouted, pointing at him.

Ace scowled. “Snitch.”

Kirishima’s hands hardened into stone. “How did you even get in here?”

Ace’s eye twitched. “What do you mean? I live here.”

Silence.

Class 1-A stared at him.

“…No, you don’t,” Midoriya said slowly.

“Yes, I do,” Ace shot back.

“No, you don’t.”

Ace groaned. “Oh my god, you guys—I live here.”

Mina leaned toward Jirou. “Is this dude gaslighting us?”

Jirou shrugged. “I think?”

“You’re lying,” Bakugo snapped. “We’d know if some brat was living here.”

Ace glared at him. “First of all, I’m not a brat, Extra.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. “What did you just call me?”

“Second of all,” Ace continued, “I’ve been here way longer than you losers.”

Denki blinked. “Huh?”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Seriously, I don’t know how you morons haven’t figured it out yet.”

Class 1-A exchanged glances.

Then—

“THAT MEANS HE’S THE GHOST!” Mineta shrieked.

Everyone stiffened.

Midoriya’s face paled. “Wait… so the ghost wasn’t real?”

“No, no, it was real,” Kaminari said quickly.

Midoriya frowned. “But if he’s the ghost—”

“Then it was him the whole time!” Uraraka gasped.

Jirou’s jaw dropped. “HE PLAYED US LIKE A FIDDLE.”

Ace smirked. “Yeah. And you all fell for it.”

A long silence followed.

Then—

“I’M GONNA KILL HIM!” Bakugo lunged.

Ace yelped, dodging just in time.

“HEY!” he shouted. “ASSAULT!”

“YOU DESERVE IT!” Bakugo roared.

“I THINK WE SHOULD CALL AIZAWA,” Iida cut in, still looking deeply disturbed.

Ace froze.

Oh.

Shit.

Kirishima nodded. “Yeah, uh… this seems like an Aizawa problem.”

Ace gritted his teeth.

The last thing he wanted was to deal with Aizawa tonight.

But it was too late.

Midoriya had already grabbed his phone.

Ace could feel the inevitable doom settling in.

This…

This was gonna suck.

Aizawa had seen a lot of things in his years as a teacher.

Explosions in the middle of class? Normal.
Students fighting each other? Expected.
Midoriya causing some kind of crisis? Practically daily.

But this?

This was new.

The second he stepped into the common room of Class 1-A’s dorm, his sleep-deprived brain took a moment to process the absolute chaos in front of him.

All twenty students were wide awake, fully dressed, and—most concerning—circling a single figure in the middle of the room like a pack of wild animals.

And there, in the dead center of it all, was a smirking Ace.

He looked utterly unbothered, despite being surrounded like fresh prey.

Aizawa sighed.

“What did he do?” he asked, already exhausted.

“He’s the thief!” Hagakure yelled.

“He’s the ghost!” Kaminari shouted.

“He infiltrated our dorms!” Iida declared.

Ace grinned. “Did I, though?”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. Ace was enjoying this. A little too much.

The kid barely flinched at the hostile glares. He had no fear whatsoever, standing there like he had already won.

Aizawa crossed his arms. “Ace.”

Ace tilted his head innocently. “Shouta."

Aizawa sighed louder.

Half the class gasped.

“DID HE JUST CALL YOU SHOUTA?!” Uraraka gawked.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Iida pointed dramatically. “That is so disrespectful!”

Ace scoffed. “What, you think I’m gonna call him Eraserhead?”

“YES!” Iida yelled.

“Or at least Aizawa-san.” Yaoyorozu added, looking genuinely disturbed.

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t bother. He does this with all the teachers.”

Ace nodded. “Yeah. Hizashi and Nemuri don’t care. Toshinori only scolds me sometimes.”

Class 1-A malfunctioned.

“What is happening?!” Jirou whispered.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Midoriya’s brain was overloading. “You’re saying… you actually live here?”

Ace shot him finger guns. “Ding ding ding!”

More silence.

Then:

“WHY DID NOBODY TELL US?!” Sero yelled.

“DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?” Bakugo snapped at Aizawa.

Aizawa looked deeply unimpressed. “Obviously.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!”

Aizawa shrugged. “You never asked.”

Bakugo seethed.

Ace grinned wider. “Oh, man. This is great.”

Aizawa turned to him. “You do realize you’re in trouble, right?”

Ace smirked. “You do realize I don’t care, right?”

Aizawa stared at him for a long moment. Then, to everyone’s horror, he smirked back.

Ace’s own grin faltered.

Uh-oh.

Aizawa leaned against the doorframe. “I gotta admit, Ace. This is impressive, even for you.”

Ace scowled. “Shut up.”

Aizawa chuckled.

“Oh no,” Kaminari whispered. “Oh no no no. He likes this. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Oh my god,” Mina breathed. “There’s two of them.”

Aizawa ignored them. “Alright, brat. Explain.”

Ace sighed dramatically. “Ugh, fine.” He turned back to the class. “Yes, I live here. No, I didn’t sneak in. No, I’m not a ghost—”

“Debatable,” Tokoyami murmured.

“—and yes, I did steal your stuff.”

More outraged noises.

Ace held up a hand. “Before you whine about it, I was bored!”

“THAT’S NOT AN EXCUSE!” Iida shouted.

Ace shrugged. “It’s my excuse.”

Midoriya’s eye twitched. “How long have you been living here?”

Ace hummed. “Dunno. Since I was born?”

More horrified gasps.

“BORN?!”

“HOW DID WE NOT KNOW THIS?!”

“WE’VE BEEN HERE FOR YEARS!”

Ace smirked. “Guess I’m just better at being sneaky than you guys.”

“Oh my god,” Jirou muttered.

“I told you,” Kaminari hissed.

Aizawa rubbed his temples. “Alright, enough. You all know the truth now. Go to bed.”

“GO TO BED?!” Yaoyorozu repeated, scandalized. “We just found out there’s a feral child living in our school, and you want us to go to bed?!”

“Yes.”

The class grumbled in frustration, but under Aizawa’s glare, they slowly started retreating to their rooms.

Ace smirked as they left, relishing in the chaos he had caused.

Aizawa sighed, watching the last student disappear down the hall.

Then, he turned to Ace.

“Give back everything,” he ordered.

Ace grinned.

“…Define everything.”

...

The days passed, and Ace was nowhere to be seen.

Not in the hallways.
Not in the cafeteria.
Not lurking in the dorms to mess with them.

It was like he had vanished.

Which, frankly, only made the “ghost” rumors worse.

Class 1-A was deeply unsettled.

“Are we sure he was real?” Kaminari asked at breakfast.

“He stole our stuff,” Jirou pointed out.

“Yeah, but—” Kaminari frowned. “—did anyone actually see him leave the room?”

Silence.

Everyone exchanged nervous glances.

Then—

“Oh god,” Sero whispered. “What if he was a ghost?”

Midoriya groaned. “Oh my god, we already confirmed he’s not a ghost.”

“Did we, though?” Tokoyami murmured.

Midoriya shot him a look. “Yes.”

But… the doubts lingered.

And eventually, they did what any good student would do.

They bothered their teacher.

Aizawa looked deeply unimpressed when they ambushed him after class.

“What?” he asked flatly.

Yaoyorozu cleared her throat. “Sensei, we have a… concern.”

Aizawa sighed. “This is about Ace, isn’t it?”

Iida adjusted his glasses. “He has disappeared.”

Aizawa stared at him. “He lives here.”

“Yes,” Midoriya said, “but we haven’t seen him at all.”

Aizawa sipped his coffee. “Lucky you.”

The class stared.

“…Sensei,” Kirishima said hesitantly, “who is he?”

Aizawa sighed again, already regretting this conversation. But he knew they weren’t going to let it go. So, in the briefest way possible, he said:

“He’s lived here since he was born. His parents are dead. That’s all you need to know.”

Silence.

The class blinked.

“…That’s it?” Kaminari asked.

“That’s it.”

Aizawa took another sip of coffee.

“Now get back to training.”

...

Ace sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling with a deep frown.

It wasn’t fun anymore.

Before, sneaking around had been a game. Stealing their things, messing with their heads, making them think a ghost was haunting them—it had been entertaining.

But now?

Now they knew he existed.

Now, if they caught something missing, they’d immediately blame him. Now, if he so much as stepped near their dorms, someone would see him.

It sucked.

Ace let out a dramatic groan and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow.

He had been avoiding the hell out of those kids ever since that night. He didn’t want to see their smug faces or hear their stupid questions.

But at the same time…

Ace sighed.

It was so boring now.

And he hated being bored.

Ace wandered through the quiet halls of UA, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. The school was dark, the usual noise of the day replaced by a peaceful silence. It was his favorite time—when the students and teachers were asleep, and the whole place felt like it belonged to him.

His feet carried him without thought, following a familiar path to the principal’s office.

He and Nezu had these little meet-ups every now and then. Not scheduled. Not planned. Just… whenever Ace felt like it. And tonight, he needed it.

Pushing the door open without knocking, Ace stepped inside.

Nezu sat at his desk, sipping tea, as if he had expected him.

“Ah,” the principal greeted, his eyes twinkling. “My little ghost returns.”

Ace rolled his eyes but plopped onto the couch without argument. “It’s not fun anymore.”

Nezu chuckled. “I imagine being caught would do that.”

Ace groaned and flopped onto his back. “Now they know I exist, and I can’t mess with them anymore.”

Nezu took another sip of tea. “Can’t you?”

Ace turned his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nezu smiled. “You’ve been avoiding them, haven’t you?”

Ace didn’t answer.

Nezu hummed. “And yet, I suspect they haven’t been avoiding you.”

Ace scowled. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been hiding.”

Nezu set down his teacup. “And that doesn’t get lonely?”

Ace’s expression darkened. “I like being alone.”

Nezu simply tilted his head. “Do you?”

Ace crossed his arms, kicking his feet up onto the armrest. “Whatever. They’ll get bored of me soon.”

Nezu chuckled again, the sound full of mischief.

“Oh, Ace,” he mused, “I highly doubt that.”

Ace sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Tch. What’s that supposed to mean?"

Nezu smiled knowingly. "You’ve made quite the impression, my dear little ghost. I doubt Class 1-A will simply forget about you."

Ace groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "That’s exactly the problem."

Nezu chuckled, reaching for his teacup again. "And yet, you’re here complaining about being bored."

Ace scowled. "It’s not the same. Before, it was fun because they didn’t know I was real. Now they do, and they’re all nosy."

Nezu’s eyes twinkled. "Perhaps they’re simply curious. You are quite the mystery, Ace."

Ace rolled his eyes. "They should mind their own business."

Nezu hummed, sipping his tea. "And if they don’t?"

Ace sat up and scowled. "Then I’ll ignore them."

Nezu tilted his head. "Oh? Even if they keep trying?"

Ace frowned, looking away. He knew they weren’t going to give up easily. The way they’d looked at him that night, the way they’d hounded Aizawa for answers… those kids were relentless.

And that was annoying.

But…

Ace shifted, uncomfortable.

It wasn’t bad, necessarily.

Just… different.

He wasn’t used to people wanting to know about him.

Nezu watched him carefully, and after a moment, he smiled. "You know, you remind me of a little hedgehog."

Ace blinked. "…What?"

Nezu chuckled. "All sharp edges and bristling spines. Prickly to the touch, but only because you don’t want to be hurt."

Ace crossed his arms. "That’s stupid."

Nezu’s smile widened. "Oh, of course. My mistake."

Ace scowled, slouching back against the couch.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the office filling the space between them.

Nezu took another sip of tea before speaking again. "You know… I do love you, Ace."

Ace stiffened.

Nezu’s tone was soft but certain, filled with an affection Ace knew was real.

Ace swallowed, staring down at the floor.

It was dumb.

He didn’t need to hear that. He didn’t care.

…Except that he did.

Ace fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, his voice gruff. "Yeah, well… you’re alright, I guess."

Nezu chuckled, completely unfazed.

Ace huffed and looked away, his face warm.

He loved Nezu too.

And all the other teachers, really.

They were annoying, overbearing, and constantly on his case…

But they were his.

Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

Nezu let out a soft chuckle, setting his teacup down with a quiet clink. He leaned back in his chair, watching Ace with that ever-present knowing smile.

Ace didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the floor, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his hoodie.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was with Nezu.

Eventually, Nezu spoke again. "Will you keep avoiding them?"

Ace snorted. "Yeah. Obviously."

Nezu hummed. "How long do you think that will last?"

Ace scowled. "Long enough for them to get bored and leave me alone."

Nezu tilted his head, his smile never wavering. "Oh, Ace… you really think they’ll get bored?"

Ace tensed.

Because, yeah. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it?

Those kids weren’t the type to give up.

He’d seen the way they clung to things—Midoriya and his damn muttering, Yaoyorozu with her relentless curiosity, Kaminari and Kirishima’s inability to mind their own business.

They weren’t going to leave him alone.

And the worst part?

Ace wasn’t sure he wanted them to.

His fingers curled around his hoodie.

He hated it. The attention, the interest. He didn’t want to be a project for them to poke at.

But...

It was kind of nice—being seen.

Not as a ghost, but as a person.

He hated it.

He hated that he liked it.

Nezu watched him, patient as ever.

Ace sighed, flopping back onto the couch. "Tch. Whatever. If they wanna be annoying, that’s their problem."

Nezu chuckled. "Oh, Ace. You’re so stubborn."

Ace rolled onto his side, tucking his arms under his head. "Yeah, yeah. What else is new?"

Nezu shook his head, amused.

The room settled into a familiar quiet, the occasional clink of Nezu’s teacup filling the space.

Ace’s eyes drooped, the warmth of the office making him drowsy.

He’d stay a little longer.

Just a little.

As the door clicked shut behind Ace, Nezu let out a quiet sigh, his small paws resting on the edge of his desk. The warm amusement from their conversation lingered, but beneath it lay a deep well of thought.

Ace had always been like this—sharp-tongued, quick to deflect, stubborn as a storm. He was a boy who had learned too young that the world was cruel, that a name could be a curse, that being seen wasn’t always a kindness.

Nezu lifted his teacup, swirling the liquid inside. His reflection rippled back at him.

Ace should have had a childhood.

He should have had parents to hold him, to tell him his name wasn’t a burden, to let him run freely without fear of what others might say.

Instead, he had been given a legacy drenched in blood, one that made even the kindest people turn away.

Nezu remembered the early years—how Ace had tried so hard to be just another child, how he’d wanted to belong.

But the world wasn’t kind to the son of Gol D. Roger.

It didn’t matter that Ace was just a boy. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything wrong. People saw him, and they decided what he was before he had the chance to figure it out himself.

The other children had called him names. They whispered behind his back, blamed him for the sins of a man he’d never even met.

And the adults?

They weren’t much better.

The schools had rejected him, one after another. It wasn’t about his behavior. It wasn’t about his grades. It was about fear. No one wanted the son of that villain in their classrooms.

And so, Nezu had made his choice.

If no one else would teach Ace, he would.

He had brought the boy into his office, handed him books, and told him, "You are more than your name."

Ace hadn’t believed him. Not at first.

But he had stayed.

And over the years, despite everything, Ace had learned.

He had learned to be clever, to be resourceful, to be more than the shadow his father left behind.

But…

He had also learned to be alone.

Nezu set down his cup, his gaze drifting toward the door Ace had just walked through.

UA had always been a shelter for the boy. A place that kept him safe.

But it was also a cage.

Ace wasn’t free. Not really.

And Nezu knew—one day, Ace would realize that, too.

Chapter Text

Ace had always been good at sneaking around UA. It was practically his second nature at this point. He knew which doors creaked, which hallways were empty at what times, and—most importantly—which rooms held the best opportunities for mischief.

Which was why, on this particular afternoon, he found himself slipping into the staff room.

It wasn’t difficult—most of the teachers were busy with classes, and the few that weren’t wouldn’t be expecting someone as small and sneaky as him to waltz right in.

Ace grinned to himself as he eased the door shut behind him, his heart thrumming with excitement.

The forbidden staff room.

A place of mystery.

A place where the teachers probably hid all their secrets.

And, more importantly—a place where they definitely had good snacks.

His sharp eyes darted around the room. Papers were scattered across desks, mugs of coffee sat abandoned, and a very comfortable-looking couch practically called his name.

But first—priorities.

Ace made a beeline for the cabinets. If anyone was hoarding sweets, it had to be Present Mic or Midnight. Maybe even Cementoss.

He swung open the first door and—

"Jackpot."

Rows of instant ramen cups, fancy chocolates, and a few suspiciously well-hidden imported snack boxes stared back at him.

Ace whistled under his breath. "Damn, they eat good in here."

Reaching for the best-looking snack, he tore it open without hesitation and stuffed a piece in his mouth.

"Oh yeah. This was worth it."

He leaned against the counter, munching happily.

Maybe he’d leave a little mess behind, just enough to make them think one of their own was stealing from them. It’d be funny watching them blame each other.

Grinning at the thought, Ace wandered toward Aizawa’s desk, half-eaten snack in hand. His eyes landed on a pile of confiscated items—including a very familiar looking handheld gaming console.

His grin widened.

"Yoink."

The door swung open.

Ace barely had a second to react before a familiar, tired voice filled the room.

"Ace."

He winced.

Slowly, he turned his head to see Aizawa, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a deadpan look on his face.

Behind him, Hizashi, Midnight, and Cementoss all peered inside, clearly surprised.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Hizashi let out a laugh. "No way! The ‘UA Ghost’ strikes again!"

Ace scowled. "I’m not a ghost."

"Then why do you keep lurking where you’re not supposed to be?" Midnight asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Ace shrugged, still holding the stolen snack in one hand and the confiscated gaming console in the other.

"Because I can?"

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re not supposed to be in here."

Ace smirked. "Then you should lock the door."

Cementoss chuckled. "He's got a point."

Aizawa shot him a look. Ace, meanwhile, took another bite of his snack, looking completely unbothered.

"It’s not my fault this place is way more interesting than my room."

"Your room is full of things you stole," Aizawa deadpanned.

Ace had the audacity to grin. Midnight smirked, stepping further into the room.

"So? What were you looking for this time?"

Ace shrugged again, setting the gaming console down before Aizawa could confiscate it again.

"Dunno. Secrets. Snacks. Maybe some dirt on you guys."

Hizashi gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Betrayed by my own student!"

"You don’t teach me," Ace pointed out.

"Technicality!"

Midnight smirked. "Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but there’s no juicy gossip here. Just lesson plans and tax forms."

Ace wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

Aizawa exhaled through his nose. "Alright, enough. Get out."

Ace grinned. "Make me."

Aizawa didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the back of Ace’s hoodie and started dragging him toward the door.

"Oi!" Ace squawked, kicking his feet. "Let go, you lazy old man!"

Aizawa didn’t dignify that with a response.

Hizashi, Midnight, and Cementoss all watched in amusement as Ace was unceremoniously removed from the staff room, still kicking and grumbling the whole way.

Once they were gone, Midnight leaned back against the counter, shaking her head. "He’s got guts, I’ll give him that."

Cementoss chuckled. "More like no shame."

Hizashi grinned. "Man, I like that kid."

Midnight smirked. "Me too."

Aizawa didn’t let go of Ace until they were a good distance away from the staff room. He finally dropped the boy onto his feet, arms still crossed as he stared him down.

Ace dusted himself off with an exaggerated huff. “You know, if you’re gonna treat me like a sack of potatoes, at least carry me properly.”

Aizawa sighed. “Do I even need to ask why you were in there?”

Ace smirked. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you?”

“No.”

Ace snorted. “Didn’t think so.”

Aizawa gave him a tired look. “Ace, you can’t keep pulling this kind of stuff.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? You expel me?” He spread his arms dramatically. “From the school I already live in?”

Aizawa didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him, his sharp eyes unreadable.

Ace scowled at that. He hated when Aizawa did that. When he stared at him like he was trying to figure something out, like he saw more than what Ace wanted to show.

So Ace kept talking. “Besides, you guys never tell me anything. You think I don’t know how much stuff gets kept from me?” He crossed his arms. “I get it, I’m a kid, but I’m not stupid.”

Aizawa let out a quiet breath. “No one thinks you’re stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ace muttered.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Ace.”

Ace didn’t look at him. His fingers twitched at his sides, but his face remained carefully neutral. “Whatever. I’ll stay out of your stupid staff room.”

Aizawa watched him for a long moment before speaking again. “You’re not a burden.”

Ace stiffened. “Didn’t say I was.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Ace clenched his jaw. He hated how easily Aizawa saw through him sometimes.

Aizawa sighed. “Look. You wanna cause trouble? Fine. But stop making things harder for yourself just because you’re too stubborn to admit you care.”

Ace scoffed. “The hell does that mean?”

Aizawa gave him a flat look. “You’re bored because the kids found out about you. Which means you liked messing with them.”

Ace opened his mouth to argue, but Aizawa kept going.

“And if you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t have returned most of the stuff you stole.”

Ace glared. “You have no proof of that.”

Aizawa smirked. “Midoriya found his notebook back in his room this morning.”

Ace cursed under his breath.

Aizawa hummed. “If you wanna keep pretending you don’t care, be better at it.”

Ace gritted his teeth, looking away. “Whatever. Can I go now?”

Aizawa studied him for a moment before stepping aside. “Yeah. Go.”

Ace turned and walked off, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets.

He didn’t run. He didn’t storm off.

But his stomach twisted in a way he didn’t like.

Because Aizawa was right.

And Ace hated that.

Ace wandered through the halls of UA, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. His steps were slow, aimless.

Aizawa was right, and that irritated him more than anything.

He had been having fun messing with the students.

And he had returned most of the stuff he stole.

And maybe—just maybe—he did care.

Which was annoying.

With a frustrated sigh, he kicked at the floor and headed toward his usual hiding spot—the rooftop.

At least up there, he wouldn’t have to think about any of this crap.

By the time he made it to the roof, the sky had already begun shifting into warm shades of orange and pink.

Ace plopped down, resting his arms behind his head as he stared up at the clouds.

For a while, it was quiet. Peaceful.

And then—

“I knew I’d find you up here.”

Ace groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Midoriya stepped out onto the rooftop, arms crossed. He wasn’t alone. Behind him stood Todoroki, Iida, and—unfortunately—Bakugo, who looked about five seconds away from blowing something up.

Ace sat up. “You guys following me now?”

“We just wanted answers,” Midoriya said, stepping forward. “Aizawa-sensei didn’t tell us much.”

Todoroki tilted his head. “Are you really a student here?”

Ace scoffed. “Technically.”

Iida adjusted his glasses. “Then why weren’t you in any of our classes?”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Because I don’t go to class.”

Midoriya frowned. “But why?”

Ace leaned back on his hands, giving them a smug look. “Because I don’t need to.”

Bakugo, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “The hell does that mean?”

Ace grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. “You little—”

Midoriya quickly stepped in before an explosion could happen. “Aizawa-sensei said you’ve been here since you were born.” His voice was softer now. “So… this place is your home?”

Ace blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. Saying something sarcastic. Deflecting.

But instead—

“…Yeah.”

Midoriya’s eyes softened. “That must’ve been lonely.”

Ace looked away. “I wasn’t alone.”

“But no other kids?”

Ace’s fingers twitched. “No.”

There was a pause. Then, to his absolute horror, Midoriya’s face lit up with determination.

“Then we’ll just have to make up for lost time!”

Ace blinked. “…What?”

Midoriya grinned. “You’re part of UA, right? That means you’re one of us!”

Ace stared. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Too late!” Midoriya declared. “We’ve already decided!”

Todoroki nodded. “We have?”

Iida sighed. “I suppose it is the logical conclusion.”

Bakugo growled. “Tch. Do whatever the hell you want.”

Ace gawked at them. “You guys are crazy.”

Midoriya just smiled. “Welcome to Class 1-A, Ace!”

Ace opened his mouth—then shut it.

This…

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Ace sat there, stunned, as Class 1-A’s self-proclaimed trio of chaos (and Iida) declared him an honorary member.

He squinted at them, trying to gauge if this was some kind of joke.

“You guys do realize I’m not actually in your class, right?”

Midoriya nodded, completely unfazed. “That doesn’t matter!”

Todoroki tilted his head. “You’ve lived here longer than any of us.”

Iida crossed his arms. “And you’ve been causing far too much mischief for us to ignore your existence.”

Bakugo scoffed. “Not that we could after all the crap you pulled.”

Ace stared at them like they’d grown second heads. “You do realize I spent weeks messing with you, right? I stole your stuff. I scared the hell out of half your class. I made you all think there was a ghost.”

Midoriya nodded, smiling. “Yeah! It was impressive!”

Ace blinked. “...What.”

Todoroki nodded in agreement. “You were very committed to the act.”

Iida huffed. “Your methods were highly questionable, but your execution was flawless.”

Even Bakugo begrudgingly muttered, “Took us way too long to figure it out.”

Ace looked between them, trying to process what was happening.

“You guys are insane.”

Midoriya grinned. “We prefer determined.”

Ace groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“So what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You guys gonna adopt me or something?”

Midoriya gasped. “That’s a great idea!”

Ace choked. “That was sarcasm!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Midoriya declared, turning to the others. “It’s settled! Ace is now part of Class 1-A!”

Todoroki nodded. “I have no objections.”

Iida sighed but smiled. “It is better than him continuing to act like a delinquent.”

Bakugo scowled. “I refuse to be responsible for this menace.”

“Too bad!” Midoriya chirped.

Ace buried his face in his hands.

He was never going to be rid of them.

...

By the time Ace finally escaped, his brain felt like it had short-circuited.

He hadn’t agreed to this. He never agreed to this.

And yet…

Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter to them.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

For so long, the only people who had really bothered with him were Nezu and the teachers.

But those kids… they had no reason to include him.

No reason to want him around.

And yet… they did.

Ace exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way down the hall.

He was so not used to this.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t sure he hated it.

Ever since that fateful rooftop encounter, Class 1-A had decided—without Ace’s input—that he was one of them.

And because he was now one of them, they had made it their mission to find him whenever they had free time.

Ace, naturally, was not a fan of this development.

...

“I swear he was just here!” Midoriya said, looking around frantically.

“Are we sure he didn’t just vanish into the walls?” Kaminari asked, rubbing his chin.

“He’s not a ghost, Kaminari,” Jiro sighed.

“But what if he has a Quirk that lets him turn invisible?” Sero suggested.

“I’d sense him if that were the case,” Tokoyami said ominously.

“Maybe he just climbed out the window again,” Todoroki offered.

“Again?!” Uraraka shrieked.

Ace, who was hiding on top of the hallway lockers, rolled his eyes. These guys are hopeless.

At lunch, they continued their search.

“I know he eats!” Kirishima said, scanning the cafeteria. “He has to come here sometime!”

“Not if he sneaks into the kitchen after hours,” Hagakure pointed out.

“That’s not allowed,” Iida declared.

“Yeah, and stealing all our stuff was totally within school rules,” Bakugo grumbled.

Ace, who was currently under the cafeteria table they were sitting at, smirked.

After school, the search continued.

Shoji used his multiple arms to peek into different hallways.

Yaoyorozu tried to strategize.

Aoyama got distracted fixing his hair.

And Ojiro, by sheer accident, almost tripped over Ace—who had been lying on top of a bookshelf in the library.

Ace barely avoided detection by shifting positions at the last second.

Days passed, and Ace remained undefeated.

No matter how hard they searched, Class 1-A just couldn’t catch him.

But if they thought that meant they’d give up—

They were dead wrong.

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow on the tightly packed aisles. Ace didn’t particularly like crowds, but the store on the edge of UA’s district was quiet at this hour. He liked the stillness. The soft hum of refrigerators, the click of shelves being restocked, the way the cashier never asked questions.

He was reaching for his usual soda when he heard it— a thud, a choked yelp, and the unmistakable sound of someone being shoved.

Ace paused, hand frozen mid-reach.

“Didn’t you hear me, brat?” a gruff voice sneered. “You gonna pay for bumping into me or what?”

Ace peered around the shelf. A smaller kid—couldn’t be older than eight or nine—was backed into the magazine rack, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Three high school boys loomed over him, each built like they’d spent too much time in the gym and not enough in class. One of them had the kid’s backpack.

Ace’s eyes narrowed. His knuckles cracked.

He could’ve ignored it. Could’ve walked away. But he didn’t. That’s not what a future firefighter would do.

“Oi,” he called, stepping out into the aisle. “Didn’t your mama teach you not to pick on people smaller than you?”

The three bullies turned, and the biggest one snorted. “What’s this? Another runt?” He looked Ace up and down. “Scram before you get hurt, kid.”

Ace gave a tight-lipped grin. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

The leader laughed, stepping forward. “You got a death wish?”

Ace moved fast. He punched the guy in the stomach before he could finish his sentence.

The bully staggered, wheezing. “You little—!”

The second guy lunged, but Ace ducked low, sweeping his leg out and knocking him off balance. He didn’t care that they were older or taller. He didn’t care if they hit back. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to let them hurt some random kid just because they could.

The third guy tried to grab him, but Ace twisted out of his grip and slammed a snack rack into his side. Candy bars and potato chips exploded across the tile.

“Dammit!” the leader growled, stumbling back to his feet. “You’re dead, brat!”

Ace’s eyes burned like kindling.

“Try me.”

The leader lunged at him again, rage twisting his face into something ugly. Ace didn’t flinch. He was used to bigger opponents, used to fists coming at him without warning. He ducked low, letting the guy’s momentum carry him forward, then slammed his elbow into the back of the bully’s knee. The older teen crumpled with a howl.

The second one was already up again and came at Ace with a wide, clumsy punch. Ace caught the guy’s wrist and twisted, pivoting on his heel and driving his shoulder into the teen’s chest. He staggered back into a shelf of instant noodles, knocking it over with a crash.

The cashier shouted something from behind the counter, but Ace didn’t hear it. He was focused—buzzing with adrenaline, fire roaring in his blood. Not because he liked fighting. He didn’t. Not really.

But sometimes people needed to be put down.

The third guy grabbed Ace by the back of his hoodie and yanked him back, off-balance. Ace cursed under his breath, struggling, and then—

He bit the guy’s hand.

“OW—! What the hell?!”

The teen flung him off instinctively, and Ace landed hard, sliding on the tile. His elbow scraped against the floor, but he didn’t stop. He used the momentum, twisted onto his feet, and kicked the last guy in the stomach as he doubled over.

The bullies weren’t used to people fighting back. Especially not someone smaller. Especially not someone faster.

“You okay?” Ace called over his shoulder to the kid still crouched in the corner.

The child nodded frantically, hugging his backpack to his chest. His face was pale.

Ace turned back—just as the leader rose with a snarl and launched himself at Ace one more time.

This one landed.

The punch cracked across Ace’s cheek, and he went skidding into a rack of drinks. Plastic bottles tumbled around him.

Pain sparked behind his eyes, but it only made him angrier.

He pushed off the ground and tackled the guy around the middle, slamming him into the freezer door.

"You think I’m scared of you?” he snarled. “You’re not scary. You’re just a coward with fists.”

The guy tried to grab him again, but Ace brought his forehead down hard into the teen’s nose. There was a crunch.

“AGH—!”

Ace shoved him back, panting, hair wild, fists clenched. The guy stumbled to the floor, holding his face and swearing. His friends were already trying to drag him up and out of the store.

“We’re not done—!” one shouted.

“You are,” Ace growled.

The convenience store door rang as they stumbled out, leaving a trail of swearing and blood in their wake.

Ace didn’t move for a second, his chest rising and falling fast. The little kid was staring at him wide-eyed, still frozen.

Then—

“You’re safe,” Ace said hoarsely. “You can go now.”

The kid nodded, clutching his bag tight and darting out the door.

Ace sighed. Now that the fire was cooling in his veins, the sting in his cheek and elbow started catching up to him.

“…Damn. Nezu’s gonna kill me when he finds out.”

The cashier’s voice cracked like a whip through the stunned silence. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Ace, who was brushing glass from his hoodie and inspecting his scraped knuckles, looked up, annoyed.

“You think you can just trash my store and walk out like some hotshot delinquent?! Somebody's gotta pay for this!” The man stormed around the counter, jabbing a finger at the mess—upended shelves, cracked tiles, bent fridge doors, and the pathetic sprawl of broken instant ramen packets across the floor. “I’m calling a hero right now—!”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. No hero’s gonna waste their time on a glorified snack aisle brawl.”

The cashier hesitated, and Ace took a step forward, his voice cool and certain, the way he'd heard Nezu talk when he meant business.

“Put it on U.A.’s account. Ask for Principal Nezu. Tell him it was a field incident. He’ll know what to do.”

“You—! What kid talks like—?”

But Ace was already walking out, stepping over a crushed rice ball with all the casual arrogance of someone used to not being questioned.

"If you want me to fill out the paperwork, talk to Eraserhead,” he added without turning. “Or Vlad. They’re the ones that deal with all that junk.”

“You can’t just—!”

Ace shoved the door open, the bell jingling softly behind him, and the man’s shouts were cut off by the sound of the street—traffic humming, cicadas chirping in the trees, the last breaths of twilight painting the sky in dark orange and deep blue.

He rubbed his cheek and winced. It was starting to swell.

Ace didn’t regret the fight, but he did regret not grabbing his soda before the chaos started.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock down the sidewalk, his steps unhurried as the pain in his elbow started pulsing again.

He knew Nezu was going to chew him out—maybe even worse if the store actually followed up with the school. But whatever.

He saved that kid. That mattered more.

And besides, Ace figured, a little paperwork wouldn’t kill Nezu.

The second convenience store was quieter. Brighter, too. A cleaner kind of quiet, the kind that didn’t buzz with looming threats and thrown fists.

Ace walked in without making eye contact with the cashier. He grabbed a melon soda, a pork bun, and a small bag of those crunchy fried noodles he liked. His cheek throbbed with every step, and he could already feel the bruise blooming across his cheekbone. His knuckles were red and slightly split, and his hoodie sleeve was sticking uncomfortably to the scrape on his elbow.

He paid in exact change, dropped the coins in the tray like he couldn’t be bothered, and left without a word.

The air was colder now. The sky had darkened into full night, the streetlamps casting long shadows over the pavement. Ace slipped through side streets, alleyways, and little gaps between buildings only kids and strays ever used. He knew the routes by heart. The back entrance to U.A. grounds was hidden behind an overgrown wall, but the lock was always broken. Nobody fixed it because nobody noticed.

He didn’t want anyone seeing him come back. Especially not them. Class 1-A had started following him whenever he showed up in the halls, whispering and nudging and staring like he was some kind of myth that had learned to walk. And Ace—Ace had enough ghosts in his life already.

He ducked low as he entered through a staff access corridor near the gym, keeping to the shadows until he reached the infirmary wing.

There were lights still on inside, a soft yellow glow under the door. Ace knocked once—then pushed it open.

Recovery Girl looked up from a clipboard. “Oh, you again.”

Ace closed the door behind him. “Got into a fight,” he said casually, as if announcing the weather. He walked up to one of the beds and sat down, peeling back his hoodie sleeve to show the elbow, already crusted with blood. “Couple of guys were harassing a kid. I handled it.”

“You handled it.” Her voice was dry, skeptical, but not surprised.

Ace shrugged. “You want the full story or just the injury report?”

Recovery Girl sighed, pushing off her stool and waddling over with her cane.

“You know, one of these days, someone’s going to decide it’s not worth patching you up, and you’ll be left with scars.”

Ace smiled with all the tired charm of a bruised troublemaker.

“Too late for that.”

She inspected his knuckles first. “Hairline split. You’ll need to keep these wrapped for a day or two.”

“Great. Guess that ruins my modeling career.”

Then the cheek. Her small, practiced fingers were gentle as she touched the forming bruise. Ace hissed, jaw tensing.

“Not broken,” she muttered. “But it’s going to look like hell.”

“Cool. Maybe it’ll scare off your other patients.”

She smirked despite herself and pulled out her syringe. “Hold still.”

Ace tilted his chin, obedient, watching the ceiling as she administered the healing energy. It tingled—not painful, but sharp. Like drinking something minty too fast.

When she was done, the swelling had gone down and the worst of the ache faded from his elbow and cheek. His knuckles were wrapped neatly in gauze.

“Thanks, Granny,” Ace muttered, hopping off the bed.

She gave him a look. “Try not to play hero again tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. No promises.”

And with that, Ace pulled up his hoodie, grabbed his bag of snacks from the chair, and slipped back out into the corridor.

He’d be in his room in ten minutes if he moved fast. Maybe if he was lucky, none of the other students would see him.

For now, the halls were empty.

Just the way he liked them.

Ace padded down the quiet hallways of U.A., the soft tap-tap of his shoes muffled against the linoleum. He hated how the school felt at night—how the walls seemed to breathe, how the lights hummed just a little too loud. Too big. Too quiet. Sometimes he forgot how empty it could be. Other times, he preferred it.

His cheek still stung, but Recovery Girl’s healing had dulled the worst of it. He could already feel his energy bouncing back now that he wasn’t running on pure irritation and leftover adrenaline.

As he turned the corner near the second-year class, Ace ducked into a side hallway and climbed up the old maintenance stairs. He used them when he didn’t want anyone knowing he was out—when he didn’t want the teachers asking questions or, worse, the 1-A kids bothering him again. It was weird. He used to hate being invisible. Now he missed it.

By the time he slipped into his dorm room—an old converted store tucked above one of the training halls—he was tired. Not from the fight. From everything. The day, the noise, the stares. The way people whispered about him even when they didn’t know they were doing it. He’d grown up with that voice in his ear: Roger’s son. Monster’s blood. Villain seed. U.A. was the only place that had ever tried to shut that voice up.

But still. A golden cage was still a cage.

He dropped the snack bag on his bed and cracked open the melon soda with a pop. The fizzy smell hit his nose first, and he let out a soft sigh. He sat cross-legged on the mattress, wincing a little when his scraped knee hit the edge of the frame.

He stared at the soda can for a long moment before muttering, “Could’ve handled it cleaner…”

But those jerks at the store—he’d seen how they were pushing that kid. Cornered him like predators circling something weaker. Something smaller. And Ace couldn’t let that stand. He knew what that felt like. Too well.

He bit into the pork bun and leaned back on one arm, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Should’ve made them eat the window,” he muttered. “Would’ve saved time.”

Outside, the wind pressed against the dorm windows. Distantly, Ace could hear students laughing from another floor, probably 1-A again. Probably talking about him. Again.

He scowled and threw the empty soda can into the waste bin with a clink.

He’d been fine on his own for years. Didn’t need friends. Didn’t need nosy kids with bright eyes and big dreams.

He didn’t need them to care.

He lay back fully now, arm thrown over his eyes. His knuckles throbbed through the gauze. His elbow itched. He was full but restless. His mind wouldn’t shut up.

Eventually, he spoke, just barely above a whisper.

“…Stupid heroes.”

But it didn’t carry any venom.

Just weight.

The knock on his door was light, barely more than a polite tap—but it carried weight. Too soft to be Aizawa. Too calm to be Midnight. Too familiar to be anyone but Nezu.

Ace groaned and dragged a pillow over his face.

"Go away," he called, voice muffled and grumpy.

Another knock.

Ace threw the pillow across the room with more force than necessary.

"I said go away!"

Outside, a pause. Then, Nezu’s voice, chipper and patient as always:
“Ace, the convenience store called the school. I thought it best to check on you myself.”

Ace growled low in his throat. He hated how fast Nezu could switch from kind to knowing. Hated even more how his guilt always kicked in when that tiny, infuriating rodent showed up.

“I’m fine,” Ace snapped. “You didn’t need to come.”

“I rather think I did,” Nezu replied cheerfully. “The cashier mentioned damages, broken glass, bruised teenagers, and something about a child telling him to ‘put it on the U.A. account.’” There was amusement in his tone now. “Care to elaborate?”

Ace stormed to the door, yanked it open, and glared down at Nezu, who smiled up at him with that same smug gentleness he always wore.

“It wasn’t a big fight,” Ace grumbled. “They were picking on someone smaller than them. I just made them stop.”

Nezu blinked up at him, paws folded behind his back.

“With your fists?”

Ace crossed his arms. “They deserved it.”

“Ace…”

“I didn’t start it!” Ace’s voice pitched. “I just— They were ganging up on this kid, okay? I didn’t want to walk away. I’m not a damn coward.”

Nezu tilted his head slightly. “No one said you were. But telling a civilian clerk to charge the school for a shattered window? That’s certainly… creative.”

Ace flushed. “He was being a jerk. Kept yelling. He said he was calling heroes. Like they’d show up just ‘cause some soda cans got knocked over.”

Nezu sighed lightly and padded past him into the room without waiting for permission.

“I appreciate your sense of justice, Ace. I always have. But this isn’t the kind of behavior we want to encourage, you know that.”

“I know,” Ace muttered, closing the door behind him and flopping back onto the bed. “But it’s not like I can stand there and watch people be crap to each other. I’m not like him.”

Nezu didn’t need to ask who him was.

He stepped lightly over Ace’s discarded snack wrappers and sat on the edge of the desk chair.

“I know you’re not,” he said quietly. “You’re nothing like your father.”

Ace turned his face toward the wall, arms crossed again, voice small now.

“Then why do I feel like him every time I hit someone?”

Nezu’s heart squeezed. “Because you’re afraid. Because you know what harm can look like when it’s left unchecked. But, Ace… feeling guilt, feeling anything, means you’re already leagues away from him.”

There was silence.

Nezu continued gently, “But if you want to be a hero—even a firefighter—you’re going to need more than fists. You’ll need restraint. And discipline. And probably fewer visits to convenience stores.”

Ace huffed. “You’re not funny.”

“I disagree,” Nezu said brightly.

Ace chuckled despite himself, curling in tighter against the mattress.

"…I didn’t even get caught up in the cameras this time.”

“That’s because I called the owner years ago and had your face blurred in all store footage within a ten-block radius,” Nezu replied matter-of-factly.

Ace sat up, blinking at him. “You what?!”

Nezu only sipped from a cup he’d brought with him—when had he even gotten that tea?—and smiled serenely.

“You’re my son, Ace. Did you really think I wouldn’t make arrangements?”

Ace gawked at him. Then, slowly, his face turned red. Not with anger, but with something warmer. Something he didn’t know how to name.

“You’re so weird,” he mumbled, grabbing his pillow again and tossing it over his face.

Nezu smiled, content, and didn’t say another word. Ace peeked out from under his pillow like a grumpy cat, one eye glaring at Nezu.

“You’re smiling. That’s never good for me.”

Nezu didn’t deny it. He took another sip of tea. “I have a solution for your… let’s call them impulses. Something that will help you channel that fire of yours into something a little more productive.”

Ace narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna send me to prison.”

Nezu chuckled. “Close. I’m assigning you to train with Class 1-A for a week.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

The pillow launched across the room again, this time nearly knocking over the lamp. Ace jumped to his feet, red-faced, fists clenched in sheer betrayal.

"You’re punishing me?! You’re literally punishing me!”

Nezu sipped his tea, eyes twinkling. “I see it more as a learning opportunity.”

“I see it as a torture sentence. Those kids won’t leave me alone already, and now you want me to train with them? You want me to spend time with them? With Bakugo?! He looks at me like he’s ready to fight me for existing!”

“Well, you did throw one of his hoodies into a tree.”

“He looked at me wrong!”

Nezu let the silence stretch just long enough for Ace to start pacing like a cornered animal.

“You’ve had far too much freedom for someone your age,” he said finally, voice calm. “It’s good that you know how to navigate the world, Ace. It’s impressive, really. But the world isn’t only yours to navigate alone. You need to learn how to exist with people you don’t pick. How to collaborate. To listen. To be part of something.”

“I’m part of your staff,” Ace barked.

“You’re ten,” Nezu replied, deadpan. “And also not legally employed.”

Ace muttered something colorful under his breath.

Nezu’s whiskers twitched. “Language.”

Ace flopped dramatically back onto his bed, burying his face in the blankets.

“They’re going to kill me.”

“They’re going to befriend you,” Nezu corrected. “Which I imagine is much worse in your eyes.”

“I liked it better when they thought I was a ghost.”

Nezu hummed. “Yes, well. That ship has sailed. You’ll begin training with them starting tomorrow. I’ve already informed Aizawa.”

“Of course you have,” Ace groaned. “You two plot against me like you’re in a secret underground villain club.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nezu said, finishing his tea.

Ace pulled the covers over his head like a sulking cat.

“…You really think this’ll help?”

Nezu stood and adjusted his tiny jacket. “I know it will. You’ll see. You might not hate it as much as you think.”

Ace mumbled into the sheets, “Bet I will.”

Nezu chuckled and started toward the door. Before he left, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“You’re strong, Ace. Smarter than most, braver than many. But even the strongest need others sometimes.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him.

Ace peeked out from under the covers after a long moment, staring at the ceiling.

“…Great,” he muttered. “Guess I better start stretching. I’m gonna be sore as hell.”

Chapter Text

Ace had memorized every inch of U.A.’s campus like it was the back of his hand. He’d known it better than most of the pro heroes working there since he was five. Emergency exits, hidden stairwells, faulty security panels, air vents big enough for a small kid to crawl through—he had a full blueprint in his head. That was the first thing he’d taught himself when he realized U.A. was more cage than home.

There was always a way out.

That morning, he waited.

He knew the schedule. Knew when the first bell rang, when the last teacher would lock a door, when the front gate cameras rotated, and how long the hallways stayed empty before a passing class wandered through. He waited until the third-period warning bell, then slipped out his dorm room, hoodie over his head, a half-eaten melon bun in his mouth and bandages still taped to his knuckles from the last time he got “involved” in something.

By the time the class was deep into their hero studies lecture, Ace was crouched behind a maintenance shed near the west side of campus, facing a broken section of perimeter fence. It hadn’t been fixed in years—Nezu pretended he didn’t know about it, but Ace knew better. Nezu always knew. Still, the mouse never said a word. That meant Ace had a few hours of freedom.

He slipped through the fence, quick and silent.

He didn’t need much. Just space. Air. A moment where no one was calling his name, or asking about his life, or dragging him to do something “for his own good.” No Nezu trying to help. No Aizawa making him “train.” No brats from 1-A stalking him through the dorms with curious eyes and annoying questions.

He didn’t even bring a phone.

The city was cool and quiet that day, clouds hanging low over the rooftops as he made his way through narrow alleys and empty parks. He stopped by an old convenience store no one ever went to, bought a can of soda and some taiyaki, and sat on a rooftop to watch the city move around him.

Nobody looked up.

Ace liked that.

He stared at the clouds, stretched out flat, arms behind his head, trying not to think.

Not about his parents.

Not about the name he carried.

Not about the fact that every teacher he loved was still a teacher, and he was still just a secret tucked into U.A.'s corners.

Eventually, the wind shifted. The clouds thinned. His soda went warm.

He sighed.

It was almost time to go back.

As he made his way back to campus, slipping through alleyways and darting past patrol bots, he caught sight of the clock tower from a distance.

He could already hear Nezu’s voice in his head.

“Did you enjoy your unauthorized mental health break, my little lighter?”

Ace rolled his eyes.

He ducked through the fence, jumped the maintenance ladder, and slid through the side door near the storage hall. He was nearly to his room when a cold voice made him freeze.

“I should’ve figured you’d try to escape on day one.”

Ace turned slowly, grimacing.

Aizawa was standing there, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded with the expression of a man who had seen too much and was tired of it all.

“Hey, Shouta,” Ace said casually. “Cool scarf.”

“You’re supposed to be training with 1-A.”

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to be in therapy, but here we are.”

Aizawa sighed deeply, long and slow.

“You're ten.”

“And clever,” Ace shot back. “Come on, I just needed some air. You really want me around those kids all day? I’m doing them a favor.”

Aizawa stared at him for a moment, then turned and started walking.

"You have ten minutes to get to the training field before I drag you there myself.”

Ace groaned. “This is what child labor looks like.”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it twenty minutes with Bakugo as your partner.”

“…Fine.”

As he trudged behind Aizawa toward the training fields, hands in his hoodie pocket and head low, Ace muttered under his breath:

“Stupid school. Stupid ghost stories. Stupid training. Should’ve stayed on the roof.”

Ace followed Aizawa with the energy of a boy being led to execution. The way his sneakers dragged on the polished floor echoed down the hallway like nails on a chalkboard. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and slouched further with every step.

“Do I at least get gloves?” he grumbled. “I’m still healing from that fight, and you want me to train? Isn’t that, like, against labor laws?”

“You punched a teenager in the face,” Aizawa said without looking at him. “Multiple, from what I’ve heard. Training with 1-A is still the lighter punishment.”

Ace huffed. “They were bullying a kid.”

“I didn’t say I was mad.”

They turned a corner. The doors to the training field loomed ahead.

“But rules are rules,” Aizawa added with a sigh. “You can’t just wander the city, Ace. This isn’t a normal school. You know that.”

Ace didn’t reply right away.

“I don’t want to be part of it,” he muttered finally. “The classes. The dorms. The stupid hero rankings. None of it. I didn’t ask to be born to him. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know,” Aizawa said. He finally looked over at him. “But hiding from it doesn’t make it go away. And Nezu thinks you’ll benefit from being around students your age. You’ve isolated yourself long enough.”

“They’re not like me.”

“No,” Aizawa agreed, “they’re not. But you’re not like anyone either, Ace.”

They stopped in front of the door.
Aizawa gave him a tired but patient look.

“You can either keep acting like a ghost, or you can try being a person.”

Ace stared at him for a second, then kicked at the ground and muttered, “Screw you.”

“Language.”

Ace grinned.

“See you out there,” Aizawa said, and walked away.

Ace pushed open the training field doors and immediately regretted it.

The entire class turned to look at him.

Wide eyes. Whispered comments. That one tall guy with the elbows—Shoji?—tilted his head like he was analyzing a new species. Kaminari whispered something to Kirishima, who grinned way too brightly. Todoroki said nothing, just stared with mild interest. Jiro raised an eyebrow. Sato blinked slowly. Uraraka tilted her head. Iida looked like he wanted to recite a welcome speech. And Bakugo looked ready to throw hands.

Ace sighed heavily.

“We were just warming up. You can join the first group.” Yaoyorozu said gently, stepping forward.

“Wonderful,” Ace said flatly.

“You don’t have to fight anyone today,” Midoriya added, trying to be helpful. “It’s just agility drills.”

“Don’t help,” Ace muttered under his breath. “I’m not a cat in a tree.”

Still, he followed them to the field. Half the class kept sneaking glances at him like he might explode or disappear. Hagakure—whom he still thought of as the girl who caught me being dramatic—giggled at something Kaminari said.

Ace cracked his knuckles. The bandages tugged slightly on the healing skin. The ache was a reminder.

He wasn’t a ghost. Not really.

But the idea of being seen by this many people?

He hated it.

The drills started. Ace was fast—faster than most of them expected. Light on his feet, flexible, reactive. He didn’t show off, but he didn’t fall behind either. Bakugo narrowed his eyes at that, clearly filing the data away. Todoroki followed his movements a little too closely. Midoriya took notes in a small notebook.

After the third set, Ace dropped beside Jiro and Asui. He flopped backward onto the grass and closed his eyes.

“I hate this,” he said to no one.

“You’re good at it though,” Jiro offered.

“Still hate it.”

“You’re interesting,” Asui said in her usual calm voice. “Are you going to stay with our class all week?”

“Unfortunately.”

Jiro smirked. “Better get used to the attention.”

Ace opened one eye and stared at the sky.

He muttered, “Stupid mouse,” and put his arm over his face to block the sun.

“Hey, um—Ace?” Midoriya jogged over after the next round of drills ended, notebook already in hand, expression alight with curiosity. “That was amazing! You dodged Bakugo’s attack like you predicted it! Are those reflexes part of your Quirk? Or is it enhanced agility? Do you have an analysis-type Quirk? Wait—maybe something like danger sense?”

Ace was still stretched out on the grass, catching his breath and pretending the sun was more interesting than Midoriya’s rapid-fire enthusiasm. He cracked one eye open, sighed, and muttered, “No Quirk.”

Midoriya blinked. “Huh?”

“I don’t have a Quirk,” Ace said again, louder this time. “Just good instincts and decent training. That’s all.”

Midoriya hesitated, gears visibly turning in his brain. “But—but your movement—”

“I’m a ghost, remember?” Ace smirked at him. “Maybe I just phase through punches.”

Kaminari, who’d wandered over, laughed. “Dude, no way you don’t have a Quirk. I saw you leap like three meters in that one drill. That’s not just muscle.”

Ace sat up and gave him a flat look. “You saying a guy can’t train to jump far?”

“No—well, yeah—but—” Kaminari floundered.

“I don’t have one,” Ace repeated. “End of story.”

“But…” Midoriya started again, brow furrowed as if denying the obvious laws of the world.

Ace stood up quickly, brushing grass from his clothes.

“Look, Midoriya,” he said, tone sharp, “maybe I’m just the local stray dog that Nezu fed one day and couldn’t get rid of. You ever think about that?”

The class quieted.

Midoriya’s mouth opened, then closed again. “I didn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ace said with a shrug. “I’m not a hero student. I’m not a student at all. Just here for the week. That’s it.”

From a little distance, Uraraka frowned. “But if you don’t have a Quirk… does that mean you’re Quirkless?”

“Yup,” Ace replied without hesitation, turning toward the track.

“I don’t believe you,” Bakugo called out, arms crossed. “You move like you’ve been in actual fights.”

Ace didn’t stop walking. “You got something against people who can fight without powers, Pomeranian?”

A few students snorted.

Bakugo snarled. “Say that again, dumbass—!”

“You heard me.”

“Guys,” Yaoyorozu said quickly, stepping between Bakugo and the direction Ace had gone. “Let’s keep things civil. This is a shared training session, remember?”

Ace ignored the rest of the conversation and walked toward the water station at the edge of the field. He splashed some cold water onto his face, letting the chill sting the cut on his cheek. The lie sat like a stone in his stomach—but it was easier than the truth. Always had been.

Behind him, he could still hear the class buzzing, whispering, speculating.

He didn’t care.

Except… he kind of did.

Aizawa found him leaning against the shaded side of the equipment shed after the last bell rang for the end of physical training. Most of the class had gone back to the dorms to shower and eat, but Ace hadn’t moved. He had his head tilted up, eyes shut, letting the breeze cool the sweat clinging to his skin.

“You know,” Aizawa said, voice low and dry, “lying about your Quirk is a new tactic for you.”

Ace’s eyelids lifted lazily. “You’re not mad?”

Aizawa walked over and leaned against the shed next to him, crossing his arms.

“Not surprised. Not mad. But lying never works long-term. Especially not with that group. Midoriya’s going to try and cross-reference everything you do with his notes. Bakugo already wants to fight you. Jiro’s suspicious. And Tokoyami probably thinks you’re some kind of cursed revenant.”

Ace scoffed, pushing off the wall with a sigh. “They don’t need to know. It’s not important.”

“They’re training with you.”

“They’re not my friends,” Ace snapped, spinning to face him. “I’m not staying. I’m not enrolling. I’m not joining the hero course. I’m just here for a damn week, so they don’t need to know anything.”

Aizawa was quiet. His eyes didn’t narrow, didn’t glow. He just watched.

Ace exhaled sharply. His voice dropped. “If I tell them what my Quirk is, they’ll know who I got it from.”

Aizawa didn’t have to ask who.

“They’ll put it together instantly,” Ace went on, tone bitter. “And then it’s all that. Again. ‘How can he have a Quirk like that?’ ‘What school would even take him?’ ‘That monster had a kid?’”

Aizawa didn’t flinch.

Ace turned away again, shoulders tense. “So yeah. I lied. And I’ll keep lying. ‘Cause if they knew the truth, they’d stop looking at me like I’m a puzzle and start looking at me like I’m a threat.”

Aizawa tilted his head. “You think we’d let that happen?”

“I think,” Ace said, “that you don’t control what kids say when teachers aren’t around.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, filled only by the rustling wind and distant voices from the dorms.

“You don’t have to tell them,” Aizawa said at last. “That’s your choice. But if the truth ever comes out, and it probably will… let it come from you. Not from them discovering it on their own. You’ll have more control that way.”

Ace didn't respond. He just looked down at his hands—scarred knuckles, bruised from a fight he wasn’t supposed to be in—and thought about how fast people turned on you when they found out who you were.

“…Thanks,” he muttered.

Aizawa pushed off the wall. “Dinner’s soon. You’ll want to eat something before Nezu finds you and insists you explain yourself over tea.”

Ace groaned. “I hate when he does that smug-tea-face.”

“He invented it.”

Ace cracked a half-smile. “Yeah. I know.”

Aizawa walked away.

Ace didn’t follow, not yet. He stood there a little longer, letting the wind cool him down, wondering if he could make it through the rest of the week without any more questions. Knowing, deep down, he wouldn’t.

Ace remembered the day his Quirk manifested like it had been scorched into his memory—vivid, glowing, and bright. He was four years old, just like the majority of the population when their Quirks bloomed. It had been during one of his tantrums—some stupid argument with the caretaker about going outside. He’d screamed and flailed, and then suddenly, the corner of the room was glowing. The heat surged around his small fists, curling up into delicate patterns like coiling ribbons of flame.

The fire hadn’t spread. Instead, it clung to him, danced with him, moved as he did. When the caretaker finally dared to approach, she didn’t find a frightened child crying over a burn—she found Ace, wide-eyed, laughing with wonder, surrounded by flickers of light.

Nezu had been called in. He always was, when it came to Ace. And he’d knelt beside the boy, tail twitching, offering him a warm smile.

“That’s incredible, Ace,” Nezu had said gently, patting his head. “Your Quirk is truly remarkable. Just like you.”

At the time, Ace had believed him.

He’d thought his power was a miracle. That it made him special in the good way. That it would help him be someone—not just the son of a name everyone whispered.

But things didn’t stay simple for long.

It started with murmurs. Whispers among staff when they thought he wasn’t listening. That name.

Gol D. Roger.

It didn’t mean anything to him at first. Just a string of words adults got tight-lipped about. Until one day, he asked.

And someone showed him a video.

He watched the grainy footage as a man with wild hair and a broad grin laughed in the face of a death sentence. Fire and chaos in the background. He didn’t understand the details, but he could feel it—that man was dangerous. The way people spoke of him. The way they looked at Ace after.

That was when things changed.

He looked at his hands after that—hands that could spark warmth or destruction with a thought—and all he saw was him. That man in the video. That legacy. That danger.

He stopped using his Quirk in front of anyone. Started hiding what he could do. When asked, he said he hadn’t developed anything yet. That maybe he was Quirkless.

No one believed him, but they let it go.

Except Nezu. Nezu never pushed, but he always knew.

When Ace lashed out, Nezu just waited. When Ace refused to speak, Nezu made tea and sat with him in silence. When Ace finally cried—because someone had called him a monster in the hallway, because another school had rejected his application, because he couldn’t stop shaking after accidentally burning through his own shirt—Nezu just held him.

And never once said, “You have to use it.”

But even now, years later, Ace hated it. Hated how it curled inside him, waiting. How it whispered in his ears when he got angry. How it felt too easy to destroy something if he didn’t focus.

He could do amazing things with it.

But all he could see was fire.

And everything fire could take away.

Ace leaned against the wall of the training field, arms crossed, hoodie drawn up just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. His cheek still had a fading bruise from the convenience store incident, and his knuckles—though treated—still throbbed faintly beneath the bandages. He could have stayed in his room, but Nezu had insisted, and after two solid days of avoiding everyone, Aizawa had shown up outside his door with the kind of silence that meant he wasn’t leaving until Ace followed him.

Now here he was, at the edge of the field, posture loose but eyes heavy-lidded with disinterest.

The students were in full swing. A few were mid-air, a mix of explosive movements and high-powered coordination. Bakugo soared above the ground in bursts of thunderous sparks. Todoroki was flanking him with calculated precision, ice skating beneath him in gliding arcs. Kaminari misfired an electric bolt and nearly zapped Sero, who shrieked and rolled out of the way. Uraraka, floating slightly, laughed as she helped Sero regain balance. Midoriya was dashing across the field, muttering tactics to himself as he charged at a training dummy with meticulous intent.

Aizawa stood nearby, scarf swaying slightly in the wind, eyes calmly scanning the group. Occasionally, he murmured things to Ace.

“That angle’s too open. See how Midoriya’s elbow’s exposed? He’ll get caught.”

“He still doesn’t have proper balance on his landings.”

“Kirishima’s overcompensating again.”

Ace grunted once or twice in acknowledgment, but he wasn’t really listening. He didn’t need a lesson in technique. He already knew how to fight. He knew how to win. And he knew how to hurt people when it mattered.

His eyes followed the students halfheartedly. They were laughing, yelling, throwing themselves into training with raw energy and optimism. No fear of the powers they wielded. No shame in showing them. Just a pack of overexcited kids being heroes.

Ace envied them, more than he cared to admit.

He could feel the heat thrumming faintly in his palms, even with no fire in sight. It was always there, just under the surface, waiting. Not active, not visible. But present. Alive.

He pressed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie and looked away.

“Why am I even here?” he muttered, barely audible.

Aizawa didn’t glance at him. “Because you need to be.”

Ace frowned, not answering.

A moment passed before Aizawa added, “Watching others use their Quirks without fear is good for you.”

Ace scoffed under his breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aizawa turned his head slightly. “You’re afraid of yourself.”

“Am not.”

“You’re angry at your Quirk. That’s a form of fear too.”

Ace narrowed his eyes. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re not,” Aizawa said simply. “Unless you try to be.”

The silence between them stretched, broken only by the training chaos in front of them—shouting, the crash of a dummy being obliterated by a combo attack, Kaminari yelping again as Jiro smacked him with her headphone jack.

“They don’t know,” Ace said after a long pause. “About me.”

Aizawa nodded once. “No. They don’t.”

“They’d look at me differently if they did.”

“Probably,” Aizawa said, without sugarcoating it.

Ace didn’t say anything for a while. Then, softly: “I hate that it matters.”

“I know,” Aizawa replied. “But that doesn’t mean you need to hide forever.”

Ace didn’t answer, but he didn’t walk away either. He stayed there until the end of training, hands tucked in his pockets, expression unreadable.

And even though he didn’t admit it—not out loud—somewhere, deep down, a part of him was listening.