Let me just confirm that Lillian was three years old when her not-parents kidnapped her from the hospital. 

Third person pov

Hitoshi knocked on the frame of the teacher's lounge door, earning the attention of everyone who was inside. Neito took this chance to shove Lillian inside. The girl clutched the papers in her hands tighter, holding them up to her chest like they were a shield. The teacher's blinked curiously at the wide-eyed girl, their chatter ceasing.

Most of them had Lillian, and they knew she was extremely shy. She barely spoke unless it was to Shoji, Koda, Tokoyami (oddly enough), or some of the other girls in class. If not engaged, she remained completely silent and reserved. She was one of the most timid people the hero course had seen since Amajiki Tamaki, the third year who'd only joined due to his friend Mirio Togata. Lillian had joined by herself, though she had reportedly made friends.

Mic tried not to freak out, outwardly. He hadn't said much to Aizawa all day. He had the blurry picture in his back pocket. It felt like it was burning a hole in his jeans. Shota hadn't noticed his avoidance, but he would if Mic dared to keep it up. The blonde didn't know what to do. He'd spent all night trying to hunt down Lillian's mother, but there was no trace of her anymore. She'd dropped off the map after Lillian went missing. As for Lillian, he'd found her missing person's case, but even the police hadn't been able to figure out her real name. It's not like they'd gotten to test her blood to identify her before she was taken from the hospital.

"Lillian?" Aizawa drawled from his place across from Mic. "Did you need something?"

Lillian glanced nervously at the rest of the teachers, who watched with keen eyes. Face burning, she ducked her head and shuffled over. Mic, who'd been acting weird and oddly quiet all day, brightened at her appearance. Aizawa was more curious than excited. Lillian clearly didn't want to walk into a room full of staring pro-heroes, but it must have been important if Neito and Hitoshi were forcing her to.

Lillian stopped in front of her homeroom teacher, shuffling nervously. Aizawa waited patiently as she glanced down at the papers. She looked incredibly unsure of herself, clearly gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she internally debated about god knows what. The papers in her hands crinkled as she carefully pushed them towards him, averting her gaze as she set them on the very edge of the table. He raised an eyebrow.

"C-Can you, u-uh... s-s-sign... f-for..." She trailed off, bringing her hands up to cover her face. Aizawa's eyes trailed towards the papers. He almost dropped his chopsticks in surprise when he saw they were the forms for the sports festival. There were several permission slips that required a 'parental signature' of some sort. He felt a small smile spread across his face under his bandages. Mic stared at them with his lips parted in surprise. He knew Lillian didn't know, and that Aizawa didn't either, but damn.

"I can do that!" Mic chirped decidedly, determination flashing in his eyes as he snatched the papers. He'd need to work twice as hard now that Aizawa really was Lillian's dad. Not that... either of them knew... yet... ugh, this was horrible.

Aizawa's smile dropped into a grimace, and he immediately snatched them back without much thought. "She asked me to." He snapped before he could stop himself. He swiped the papers back with clear annoyance, much to the surprise of everyone present. Nemuri looked ready to whip out her phone and start filming, and Lillian looked like she had no idea what to do.

"I'm her favorite hero." Mic said nonchalantly as he took them back.

"I'm her favorite teacher." Aizawa grumbled back, swiping them again. Mic's smile twitched, and Aizawa glared. The present teachers all looked relatively amused, if not a bit lost, as they watched the interaction. Lillian looked like she may cry. She clearly had no idea what to do in this situation. Midnight felt some pity for the poor girl. She looked paralyzed.

"Lillian, your phone is ringing." Neito called from the doorway, holding up her phone. Sure enough, an unknown number was calling. Lillian's nervous expression dropped into one of surprise, and she rushed to the door. Everyone watched her fumble with her phone, accepting the call with clear haste. Aizawa and Mic shared a look, neither of them letting go of the papers they were now both holding.

"Musutafu Morgue. You stab 'em, we slab 'em. How can I help you today?" Lillian answered politely and levelly. Snipe spit out his drink while Ectoplasm began to choke, and Mic and Midnight both had to slap their hands over their mouths to hold in their laughs. Aizawa tried not to look too taken aback. "Chad? Hey, yeah, just surround his house with it."

Lillian's voice faded as she exited the lounge, following by her two snickering friends. Aizawa swiped the permission forms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lillian's panic attack had helped bond her and The Big Three, whom she was slightly more comfortable around now that they'd seen her cry. Could their opinion of her get any lower? Probably, but she tried not to think about it too much as she, Mirio, and Nejire all discussed the festival. They were doing their best to give her tips.

"If you pretend you're going to die, it's not that bad." Amajiki muttered quietly to her. "It doesn't matter if they're staring at you if you already believe you're going to die."

Lillian took his advice to heart. Amajiki was someone who very clearly had anxiety on par with hers, if not worse. Any advice he had to give was sacred. He'd made it through the festival twice and he'd lived. Anything he said was now law in her book. He was too pure to mislead her, and Mirio had informed her. She took him at his word. 

"We'll be cheering for you the whole time." Nejire assured. Lillian gave a hesitant smile, eyes drifting to Mic. He'd not only been sulking the whole class period, but he'd also been staring at her. Not just some occasional glances in her direction, but full blown,  both eyes on her, staring. And she had no idea why! Was it about the thing in the teacher's lounge? Both Hitoshi and Neito had insisted she do it today.

"You'll do great!" Mirio agreed. "Besides, you'll have your two friends with you, won't you? Tamaki had Nejire and I, and he came out alright."

"Debatable." Amajiki muttered. Lillian couldn't help but smile just a little at that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Lillian had still yet to befriend any other members of class 1-B, but it was still her favorite period. How could it not be, with Neito in there? Today Midnight had partnered them up, instructing them to work together to re-create a historical piece. But with personal twist, of course. She'd kindly put Neito and Lillian together after Mic and Aizawa both subtly threatened to kill her if she did anything she knew would make Lillian uncomfortable for no reason.

The two had retreated to the corner, hiding behind their easel as they worked. Everyone was a little curious as to what was going on over there. Even Midnight was tempted to interrupt just to figure it out. Lillian wasn't very open. She was shy when talked to by anyone else, and never initiated a conversation unless it was with Neito. How she and the blonde were so close, nobody was sure.

"I need Stormy Grey!" Neito said in a frantic tone.

"23 or 24?!" Lillian sounded possibly more panicked. Based on the amount of paint they'd managed to get on the ground, nobody was all that surprised.

"Shit, it's drying! 25!" Neito responded.

"Th-There isn't a 25." Lillian sounded absolutely mortified. Midnight's eyes strayed to the single tube of grey paint on her own desk, and she winced at the panicked shrieks that came from across the room. She momentarily wondered if she should maybe call Aizawa or Mic for help. She decided against it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Aizawa definitely wasn't wearing his Team Eraserhead shirt today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

"Is your tail wagging about the upcoming festival?" Hound Dog asked the girl. He was still under intense scrutiny from Mic and Aizawa as they hunted for a permanent therapist for Lillian. The girl was growing on him more and more by the day. She was just the cutest little pup! He was absolutely determined to become her sole counselor. He didn't want to stop seeing her because they found someone else.

"N-Not exactly... I-I just don't want to let me friends down..." Lillian trailed off, wincing. 

"You? Let them down? Impawsible, pup. You'll do great, and you'll have me barking for you the whole time. You're not the type to just roll over and take defeat snout-down. You may not have much bark, but I can tell you have bite. Seeing you compete will be a real treat." He said, fire in his eyes. She smiled a little, lowering her gaze at his surety. She just... didn't know. Of course she'd do her best! Just... what if her best wasn't enough?

"I-I don't know. I don't want to fail them. We've been training r-really hard, but just... I-I'm afraid. What if I start to cough blood up, like at the USJ? O-Or have a panic attack, a-and can't compete?" She asked nervously. Hound Dog's ears perked up at this. Lillian hadn't mentioned the USJ at all during any of their sessions. 

"Every quirk has their downsides, pup. I've seen some with side-ruff-effects worse than yours. You've been training for a reason, and your endurance is definitely better. You've got an amazing power sitting in your paws. It's useful, and will make fur some interesting matches without a doubt." He assured her. She relaxed only a little, brows still pinched.

"I-I just... I..." She brought her hands up to her face. "E-Every time I feel th-that pain in my stomach, o-or taste blood in the back of my throat... I-I see him."

"The Nomu?" Hound Dog's head tilted. Lillian looked down, clenching her fists.

"N-No..." She looked pain. "I-It's worse... I-I... I see Mr. Aizawa."

This was going to be a ruff session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Lillian shuffled to the training field where her friends and teacher were waiting after her session with Hound Dog, wearing her Team Eraserhead shirt and a pair of shorts. She looked exhausted, her ponytail crooked and her eyes red rimmed from crying. Evidently, her meeting with the guidance counselor had been relatively heavy.

It had been. They'd dove just slightly into the USJ attack, and Lillian had cried the entire time. At one point she even thought Mr. Aizawa had died and Hound Dog had been forced to play Present Mic's radio show opening on full blast in order to snap her out of it. And even that had barely worked.

She walked right past Neito and Hitoshi and up to Aizawa, who was standing by the track looking over their work out plan thoughtfully. He barely had time to look up before Lillian wrapped her arms around his middle with zero traces of hesitation, like she'd been planning and working up to it for the longest. He froze in a complete panic, back going rigid and shoulders tensing. He looked up to Hitoshi and Neito with wide eyes. They both shrugged.

Despite having been rather out of it at the time, Lillian remembered the USJ attack in vivid detail. Especially Mr. Aizawa and his injuries. Every break and drop of blood that had dotted his skin. The expression on his face and the gleam in his eyes. She remembered that his hair had been falling over one of his eyes when he tried to roll over and get up. She recalled the exact shape of the puddle of blood beneath him.

"You're alive." She said simply, letting go of him and looking up at his bandaged face. She checked his arms, and then her hands, and then she nodded to herself. Seeming satisfied, she took a deep breath and turned around. Aizawa watched her dart off full speed down the track without bothering to stretch. The dark-haired man was left there, stunned and mildly confused. And with a shit load of questions. He'd have to ask Hound Dog just what the fuck he'd done.

Not that it had been... unpleasant, per say. That didn't mean he liked it. Or anything. Or that he was glad she was wearing her Team Eraserhead shirt. Because he... definitely wasn't wearing his today... or anything like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Kaminari got home to a horrifying sight. His house was surrounded. Not by people, or villains, or anything of that sort. No, it was something much worse. His home had been surrounded by cans of Cranberry Sprite. They formed a large circle, and he could see them disappear through the gate of the backyard. They trailed through the grass and across his driveway, enclosing his home in some sort of hell trap.

Without a word, he turned around and started to walk away. Because he was not doing this today.