Hey There Partner...

The classroom was intensely quiet as students scribbled on their test sheets. You could almost hear their thoughts. Some were ready to rip out their hair, while others marked their papers deliberately. One stood out more than the rest: Shin. 

He had rough brown hair and burning blue eyes locked on his test. His wrist moved indiscriminately and efficiently. 

After some time passed, a blonde-haired boy jumped from his seat. "HA! The first one finished." He exploded forward and smacked his sheet on the teacher's desk. Some of his classmates mumbled but silence covered them. 

Then a few more students trickled to the front of the classroom to hand in their papers. Once nearly everyone had turned their answers in, the teacher announced the time was up. 

"Shin...Shin...hey Shin," a green-haired boy whispered at the blue-eyed boy with his eyelids closed, leaning back with his feet on the desk and snoring quietly. 

"Huh...what?" Shin broke out of his sleeping curse, turning to see the cowering classmate of his. "Midoriya?" 

The shy classmate said, "The finals are over, you should probably turn in your answer sheet." 

Shin sat up and snatched his paper. He walked slowly but his steps had an impact. Students watched as Shin turned in the last test. 

"Expecting another perfect score?" The teacher asked. 

"Well, I ain't expectin' to fail, that's for sure," Shin said. 

A harsh voice interrupted, "Tch, perfect score? Don't make me laugh. You think you're a big shot just 'cause you got lucky once or twice? You're still nothin' compared to me!"

"Cool it Bakugo!" 

"Yeah! Stop antagonizing Shin." 

"You'll never be as smart as him." 

The students defended their classmate from the blonde-haired maniac. Shin turned around and made eye contact with Bakugo. He didn't budge, his pupils were still and invasive. Both boys wouldn't break, the blonde leaned forward and gripped his desk. 

"You might have great test scores, but I've never seen you use your quirk. What's the deal? Maybe you're quirkless, just like Deku."

Izuku grasped onto his book bag and hid behind it.

The teacher got up from his desk and opened his mouth but Shin raised his hand. He responded, "Quirk or no quirk, it don't make a difference to me. Keep runnin' your mouth, and you'll find out real quick what I'm capable of."

"Tch! Keep talkin'. One good blast and I'll send your ass flyin' back to America where you belong!"

"If you're feelin' brave, why don't you take your shot? Just hope you've got more to back it up than hot air and sparks." Shin crossed his arms.

A large vein bulged on Bakugo's head. The desk sizzled where his hands were. He furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his teeth. 

"Stop it, Kacchan! There's no need for this! Shin's right—it's not all about quirks. You don't have to prove anything!"

The class turned their heads toward the voice. 

Bakugo's eyes widened with anger. "Shut up, Deku! You think stickin' up for this guy is gonna change anything?! You better back off before I decide to send you flyin' with him!"

Everyone turned back toward Shin, "Hey now—you're dealin' with me. Don't go spreadin' yourself too thin."

Finally, the teacher had enough, "The three of you stay after!" 

"Come on! These worthless idiots dragged me into this," Bakugo shouted. 

Once the classroom emptied, only the culprits remained. 

"I won't let you disrupt the class any longer," the teacher sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes sweeping across the trio. "You three have so much potential."

He turned to Bakugo, his voice firm. "Bakugo, don't you want to be a hero? A real one?" His gaze then shifted to Shin. "Shin, you've got the brains for anything—a lawyer, a doctor, even a physicist. The sky's the limit for you."

Finally, his eyes landed on Izuku, and his tone faltered. "And Izuku, well… you can be… whatever you want to be." The last part came out awkwardly, a bit unsure.

Izuku tightened his eyes shut and lowered his head as he clenched his fists, "I...I want to be a hero too!" He finally managed to blurt out. 

"HAHAHA!" Bakugo cackled, doubling over as he sneered at his green-haired classmate. "You? A hero?" He shot Izuku a cruel grin. "You couldn't save a drowning ant!"

"Bakugo, that's enough!" the teacher snapped, his gaze shifting to Izuku. He hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. "I'm sure... I'm sure Izuku can become a... a fine hero," he finished.

"Laugh all you want," Shin said, his tone calm but cutting, "but he's got a better shot at being a hero than some hot-headed blonde stick of dynamite."

Izuku's eyes sparkled as he looked at his defender. 

"That's a bold claim coming from you," Bakugo growled, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "You don't have a single ounce of power in you. What could you possibly do to back it up?" He raised his hand, forming a tight fist, as thin wisps of smoke curled ominously from inside.

"I could shove that fist of yours somewhere real uncomfortable," Shin said calmly, letting his hands fall casually to his sides, completely unfazed by Bakugo's display.

The explosion freak lunged at Shin with a feral hatred. His attack halted as he heard a woman's voice behind him. 

"Bakugo! What do you think you're doing!?" 

He slowly rotated his head to the entrance. A similar-looking lady glared at him. She walked up and grabbed him. Bakugo was pulled away like a piece of cloth in the wind. 

"I am deeply sorry for my son's behavior," she said. 

"Thank you for coming Mrs. Katsuki," the teacher said. 

Another woman emerged from the entrance, "Izuku?! Why did they call me? Is everything alright?" She walked up to her son and hugged him. 

A few moments were taken to explain the situation to the newcomers. 

"Thank you for letting him off with a warning." 

"Yes, I will make sure he will get a stern talking to at home." 

The women left with their sons while Shin and the teacher remained. 

"Did the school not contact your guardians?" the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shin inhaled slowly and let out a deep sigh. "Ain't no one to contact. Came to Japan on my own."

"Really?" The teacher blinked in surprise. "How come I never knew about this?"

Shin's tone remained flat, clearly uninterested in the conversation's direction. "Ain't somethin' I like talkin' about."

"Why not?"

Shin's gaze hardened, his voice low and steady. "Because I didn't come here to chat. I came to get into the top hero school, and that's all that matters."

The foreigner left the building and made his way across the parking lot, his boots crunching against the gravel. He approached a sleek motorcycle with high handlebars and a black matte finish, the chrome glinting under the fading sunlight.

When he turned the key, the engine roared to life, a thunderous sound that ripped through the quiet evening air. He revved it a few times, the deep growl echoing around him, before taking off with a swift pull of the throttle.

He weaved through the city streets, the urban sprawl flashing past in a blur of lights and concrete. Soon, the tall buildings gave way to open land as he pushed beyond the outer limits of the city, leaving its noise behind. The air grew cleaner, cooler, and huge swaths of farmland stretched on either side of the road. The golden fields swayed gently in the breeze as he slowed down, finally reaching one of the largest plots of land. He made a right through an iron gateway, the tires kicking up dust as he approached his destination.

At the top of the hill stood a mansion—large, imposing, and distinctly out of place in the rural landscape. Its architecture was bold and foreign, not native to the land, and yet it gleamed as if freshly built, standing as a modern monument against the old-world farmland that surrounded it. He parked his motorcycle at the base of the steps and climbed toward the grand entrance, his footsteps slow and deliberate on the stone path.

At the peak of the steps, a set of massive, ornate doors awaited him, their design intricate and elegant. But what caught his eye was the wooden box sitting on the porch, aged and weathered, starkly contrasting the pristine look of the mansion.

He approached it, lifting the antique package with one hand before unlocking the doors with the other. As he stepped inside, he placed the box on a grand oak table, the sound of wood meeting wood echoing in the vast room.

The interior was spacious, refined—but quiet. Too quiet. The polished furniture, though exquisite, had gathered a thin layer of dust, like remnants of a forgotten past.

He took out a bowie knife and slid it between the lid and body of the box. With a twist, the lid popped off. The contents were revealed when he set the top aside. 

Shin saw a letter, an old revolver, and a pocket watch. 

The letter was written in an elusive style, clearly marked by a pen. He read it. 

Dear Shin,

Well, it's been some time, hasn't it? The family's been wondering about you, son. Haven't heard a peep out of you in a while, and, well, it wasn't easy tracking you down all the way over there. But here you are, hiding behind this little hero game you're playing.

Now, listen. I don't know how long you think you can keep running from who you are, pretending you're something else. But we both know the truth, don't we? You ain't cut from that straight-and-narrow cloth, Shin. The family needs you. I need you. You have duties—obligations that can't be ignored, no matter how far you run.

But if you're still dead-set on staying over there, chasing this little dream of yours, well… just know this. We've found the man responsible for what happened to your parents. The choice is yours, but don't forget where you came from, and what still needs to be done.

We'll be waiting.

Sincerely, Grandpa.

Shin's jaw tightened, his breath hissing out through flared nostrils as his eyes scanned the words. Without a word, he pulled out a lighter, flicking the flame to life. He pressed it to the corner of the letter, watching as the paper curled and blackened. The fire spread slowly, devouring the message until it reached the spot where his thumb and index finger held it firm. With a quiet breath, the flame was snuffed out, leaving only a charred edge.

He let the ashes fall to the floor and turned toward the box. From inside, he drew a revolver, its weight familiar in his hand. Shin spun the cylinder with a flick of his wrist, the metallic clicking sound echoing in the silence. Satisfied, he snapped it back into place with a soft clack and returned it to the box.

His fingers hovered over the next item: a silver pocket watch, hanging from a delicate chain. He picked it up, the cool metal brushing against his skin, and flicked it open.

Suddenly, the air around him shifted.

Shin instinctively stepped back as a floating panel materialized in front of him, hovering just beyond his reach. Its surface resembled aged parchment, the rough texture of a Western map backdrop, with bold ink writing etched across it. The letters seemed to pulse, glowing faintly as if the message itself was alive, waiting for him to read.

Hey There Partner...