Third person pov

The week rolled by in no time at all, and Aizawa found himself faintly impressed with Lillian's ability to not only keep herself going, but to keep her two friends from falling behind as well. He didn't know what she was telling herself to keep her body running, but whatever it was, it was definitely working. He was glad. He really didn't want to see Lillian carted off to Recovery Girl because he accidentally killed her with his deadly workout.

It was Saturday now, and he'd agreed to meet them, against his better judgement. He didn't have much else to do but sleep. However, if they wanted to work out on campus, they'd need a teacher on site. While he did enjoy sleeping, he also liked to watch his student grow and improve, and he supposed those other two idiots were growing on him just a little too. Not much, but he guessed they weren't complete nuisances.

"M-Mr. Aizawa!" Lillian called as she, Hitoshi, and Neito all jogged up. They'd all met up at Hitoshi's house beforehand so they could inhale some of his mother's cooking. Neito's mom was pretty uptight according to the blonde, so they strayed away from his residence. Lillian also didn't want her mom and dad to interrogate her friends about their quirks and how they worked, so Hitoshi's home became their default meeting place. Half because it was technically closest to the school, and half because Mihoko adored and fed them.

Aizawa turned the give greeting back, as was customary when addressed by anyone other than Hizashi, and he promptly froze.

"...What are you wearing?" He asked the trio cautiously. They all wore the smuggest, most shit-eating grins he'd ever seen in his life. It wasn't a look he'd ever seen on Lillian's face, really, but that wasn't what he was primarily focused on at the moment.

The three of them wore matching black T-shirts, which was all well and good, but they had a pair of very familiar goggles plastered on the front.  Printed under it, where perhaps the neck of someone would be in correspondence to the goggles, was very clearly a scarf he found he knew quite well. They all looked incredibly proud to be wearing such attire, their hands on their hips so the whole world could see their shirts.

"It was Lillian's idea." Hitoshi reported in a self-satisfied sort of way. Aizawa couldn't help but feel like she'd been influenced my her friends. The two boys seemed too smug.

"And a brilliant one, at that." Neito seemed to agree. Aizawa really did try to stop his heart from swelling. A part of him wanted to demand they go home and change, but he couldn't bring himself to when his dark eyes met a pair of excited blue ones.

"Th-This isn't even the best part." Lillian spun around, looking over her shoulder as she pulled her ponytail out of the way. Aizawa felt his breath hitch. Oh my God, why did he ever become a teacher?

The words "Team Eraserhead" were printed on the back in bold, golden-yellow letters that matched the goggles on the front. Neito looked amused by the short girls exuberance over the fact, and Hitoshi, a little bashful and possibly slightly embarrassed, but still happy. Aizawa blinked as Lillian spun back around, looking overjoyed. Like this had made her day.

"Look!" She pulled something from her gym bag and thrust it towards him so he could see. "W-We got you one!"

Aizawa felt his lips curl into a smile, because hey, these brat's weren't as bad as he thought. Not that the shirts had really swayed his opinion or anything. That would mean he was soft, and he wasn't, right? Right.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mic didn't like to do work on the weekends, but there were times when it simply piled up, and he was forced to. Normally he was pretty sour about it. He'd groan dramatically to himself and make a big show of dragging his feet as he lumbered onto campus like he was marching off to his death. He loved English, and being a teacher, but trying to read some of these kid's handwriting was like attempting to crack the Da Vinci Code. Impossible.

This time, however, it was worth it. He was damn glad he got out of bed this morning. He'd abandon sleep any day if it meant he got to witness this.

Clad in Team Eraserhead shirts, three first year students sprinted around the track like hell was on their heels. He recognized them as Lillian Faust, aka his favorite, Neito Monoma, who probably had rabies, and Hitoshi Shinso, who he thought may lack the ability to string together a sentence longer than three words just in general. All three of them were grinning, darting along the track with one another, and chattering.

He spotted Aizawa under the shade of a present tree, and even with a all those bandages on his face, Mic could tell he was grinning widely as the kids ran.

Whipping out his smart phone, he was quick to immortalize the moment so he could later sear it into his brain properly by cooing over it for several hours. It was a good shot, so maybe he'd frame it. He was suddenly very glad he'd invested in a phone with one of the top cameras money could possibly buy. Now he could look back on this moment in all its HD glory.

~~~~~~~~~~

Training with Aizawa that day didn't seem as bad as it was the other days, but maybe they were just adjusting to the pain. That, or it could be their shirts. Hitoshi swore up and down he'd never felt more energized. Lillian and Neito let him live in his little wonderland of lies. If he was mentally convinced that the shirt was the thing keeping him from collapsing into a puddle of sweat and tears, then so be it.

Lillian was glad Mr. Aizawa didn't hate the shirts. She hadn't exactly expected him to be all that fond of them, of course, but it was nice to see he hadn't acted negatively towards them. She probably would have cried or something, and that really didn't look good for an up and comer in the hero course. She was really trying to get her emotions under wraps so she could do better.

They'd stopped for a fifteen minute break, and Lillian found her mind wandering back to Hitoshi's first visit to her house. His teasing about not seeing any baby photos of her was all well and good, but she came to a realization that felt rather like a slap in the face. She hadn't seen any baby photos of herself either. She'd never really though about it before. Not before it was brought up, anyway. Now she couldn't get the thought out of her mind.

She'd looked at every photo on their walls. There were baby pictures of some of her cousins, sitting in their aunts arms, but she didn't find any that looked anything like her. She rifled through photo albums, dug out old boxes, and even braved the horror that was her mother's closet. There were so many articles of clothing she was almost drowning in it by the time she finally found the photos in stuffed back there.

Her family was big on documentation. They took pictures of everything, all the time. Her first day at UA was a good example of this. Her mom seemed to think fifty photos was the absolute minimum. They'd taken a photo of her holding the letter, too. They took a picture of her uniform when it came in the mail, of her backpack and the supplies in it, of her filling out her costume form, and even of the letter they were going to send in. They weren't shy about snapping a shot, and they never had been. There were photos dating back to before her time.

That's what made this so... weird. The youngest she could find herself was at three years old. Her parents would have jumped to capture her first steps on camera, and her first words in video. Nothing about it made sense, and the closer she looked... the more the realization settled in. Upon closer inspection, she didn't look anything like her parents.

She did, to an extent. She had blue eyes like her mothers, but they weren't quite the same shade if you really looked at them in the proper lighting. She had freckles, but looking at her relatives, none of them really did. Her dad had black hair, but it was flat and had to volume or wave to it like hers did. Her mom's hair was also straight as a board, and looking back, she couldn't find any relatives with hair quite like hers. Her was a tangly mess she had to brush several times a day. It was thicker than anyone she'd met in the family.

It was... scary to think about the possibilities. She knew what this might mean. Her quirk, which was powerful and had come out of nowhere. In a family that contained solely quirkless people, how was it that she had a power like this? One so useful, and that allowed her to become a pro-hero? To get into the top school in not only Japan, but in the world.

She wanted to ask. Maybe there was some sort of explanation. They categorized their photos by the time they were taken, so maybe a chunk of time was lost in some way. Maybe they'd been ruined in that flood they always talked about, in their first house. Or perhaps they'd been lost when they moved here to this home, when she was younger. 

The facts piled up, one after the other. Her mother was naturally tan, and her father had an almost olive color to his skin. Hers was more on the creamy side, and unlike both her parents, she burned rather than tanned. She also didn't look American in the least if you looked at her bone structure in comparison to her mother's side. 

She wasn't sure if she should be mad, or just confused. Why wouldn't they tell her? Wouldn't they have? There was still a chance that, hey, maybe she wasn't adopted. Maybe she'd hit the recessive gene jackpot and gotten herself a quirk.

On the other hand, if she was adopted, why wouldn't her parents prepare her for the possibility of a quirk? She'd been terrified when it first manifested, and her parents had never once brought up what to do if she were to awaken any sort of ability. If she wasn't there's, they shouldn't have just... assumed she wouldn't have a power because they didn't. They couldn't, right?

That made her hope that maybe she was their biological daughter. Her parents weren't idiots. They'd have prepared her for her quirk, right? They would have done everything they could in an attempt to make her feel more welcome. Even if they didn't want to tell her she was adopted, they still would have mentioned her possibly awakening a quirk if they'd know. They would have.

Right?

If she was adopted, then everything she'd given the school nurse was void. Possible allergies, anything genetic they thought may have been passed down. In this quirk-filled world, medical information had to be precise in order to be valid. Tsuyu, for example, had a toxin in her saliva and blood that reacted badly with some forms of medication. What if she was in danger without knowing it? What if-

"Hey, are you okay?" Hitoshi asked, snapping her from her from her train of thoughts just before they could turn hysterical and panicked. She blinked, loosening her grip on her water bottle. She needed to calm down. Everything was a-okay.

"Yeah, you look like you just got your wig snatched." Neito drawled casually, causing the purple-haired boy to sway at him. Lillian's lips curled up into a smile.

"I-I'm okay." She assured, because she really was. She was... well, terrified, but okay generally speaking. "Ready to start up again?"

Hitoshi groaned dramatically as Neito pushed himself up and to his feet, holding out a hand for Lillian. "What about me?" He whined as the blonde helped the short girl up. Lillian staggered slightly, wiping her sweaty palms on her workout pants. Hitoshi slowly got up, glaring at Neito and Lillian without heat the entire time.

"Put those legs to use, gamer. Not everyone is as tall as you are. You already have the advantage." Lillian punched him in the arm lightly.

"Hey, rude." Neito muttered, earning an eye roll from Hitoshi as they took off running once again, leaving Lillian to stew in her thoughts.