Chapter 1 - A Storm on the Horizon

The rain hammers down in a relentless torrent, its rhythmic patter against the glass creating a soothing symphony. The world outside is a blur of gray and silver, the streets slick with water and the air thick with the scent of petrichor. Inside, the atmosphere is warm and serene, a stark contrast to the storm raging beyond the walls.

By the window, a beautiful woman sits, her presence commanding yet calm. It's you. A steaming cup of tea rests in your hands, its delicate aroma mingling with the earthy scent of the rain. The soft glow of the room's light catches the curve of your smile as you gaze out at the storm, your thoughts as deep and unpredictable as the weather.

On the table beside you lies a newspaper, its pages slightly damp from the humidity. You set your teacup down and pick it up, your fingers brushing over the bold headlines. "Villainous Attacks Disrupt Tatooine Transportation System," one reads. Another details the chaos spreading across the galaxy—political unrest, mysterious disappearances, and whispers of a shadowy organization pulling the strings.

Your eyes scan the articles, absorbing every detail. A smirk plays on your lips, subtle but unmistakable. The world is in turmoil, but to you, it's an opportunity. The pieces are falling into place, and the game is just beginning.

This will be fun, you think, your voice a whisper lost in the sound of the rain. The storm outside mirrors the one brewing in your mind—a tempest of strategy, power, and ambition. You take another sip of tea, your gaze returning to the window. The rain continues to fall, but your focus is elsewhere, already plotting your next move in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

The soft hum of the rain outside is interrupted by the sharp, insistent ring of the phone. Its shrill tone cuts through the tranquility of the room, demanding attention. You set down your teacup with a quiet clink, the porcelain barely audible over the storm's steady drumming. The newspaper lies forgotten on the table as you reach for the phone, your movements deliberate and unhurried.

You bring the receiver to your ear, your voice cool and composed as you speak. "This is Y/N's residence. Who am I speaking to?"

The response is immediate—a high-pitched, almost gleeful voice bursts through the line, brimming with energy. "Oh, my lady Y/N! I didn't think you'd answer! It's me, Nezu! The one who can be a bear, or a mouse, or a dog. The only thing I can't seem to be is boring!"

You pinch the bridge of your nose, a faint sigh escaping your lips. Of course, it's him. The principal of U.A. High, the so-called "smartest creature alive," and, quite possibly, the most eccentric being you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. His voice is as animated as ever, and you can practically picture him bouncing in his seat, his beady eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Yes, yes, I know, sir," you interject, cutting him off before he can launch into another one of his rambling monologues. "Now, what do you want?"

There's a brief pause on the other end, and for a moment, you wonder if he's finally run out of words. But then, with the same cheerful tone, he delivers his request without missing a beat. "Take the entrance exam for my school!"

The words hit you like a thunderclap. Your hand tightens around the receiver, and you nearly choke on the sip of tea you'd just taken. The liquid burns your throat as you sputter, setting the cup down with a loud clatter. "Sir, I—I can't remember? I told you I'd stay off the radar."

Your voice wavers slightly, betraying the calm facade you've worked so hard to maintain. The idea of stepping back into the spotlight, of putting yourself out there again, sends a jolt of unease through you. You've spent years building a quiet life, far from the chaos and expectations that once defined you.

But Nezu, ever the persistent schemer, doesn't seem to care. His voice takes on a sly, almost teasing tone. "Oh, come now, Y/N. You can't hide forever. The world needs someone like you—someone who can adapt, who can be anything the situation demands. And besides," he adds, his tone softening just a fraction, "I think you need this more than you realize."

You lean back in your chair, the rain outside suddenly feeling louder, more oppressive. Your mind races, weighing his words against the life you've carefully constructed. The storm outside mirrors the turmoil within, and for the first time in a long while, you feel the familiar pull of something you thought you'd left behind—purpose.

The silence stretches for a moment, heavy and expectant, as you weigh Nezu's words against the quiet life you've built. The rain continues to drum against the window, its rhythm steady and unrelenting, as if urging you to make a decision. Finally, you exhale, a long, slow breath that carries the weight of resignation.

"Fine," you say, your voice firm but laced with a hint of reluctance. "I'll come. But I don't want to be put in too big of a class, you hear me? Keep it small. Keep it... manageable."

On the other end of the line, Nezu lets out a delighted giggle, high-pitched and almost childlike in its glee. "Yes, yes, ma'am! Thank you! Oh, this is going to be wonderful!" His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can almost see him clapping his tiny paws together in excitement.

Before you can say another word, the line goes dead, the dial tone buzzing in your ear. You stare at the receiver for a moment, your mind still processing the conversation. Slowly, you place the phone back on its cradle, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

Leaning back in your chair, you rub your tired eyes, the weight of the decision settling over you like a heavy blanket. The storm outside seems to grow louder, the rain pounding against the window as if mirroring the chaos now swirling in your mind.

"What have I gotten myself into?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

Your gaze drifts to the newspaper still lying on the table, its headlines screaming of villainy and unrest. For a moment, you consider picking it up again, losing yourself in the familiar distraction of the world's problems. But instead, you turn back to the window, watching as the rain streaks down the glass in rivulets.

The life you've carefully constructed—quiet, unassuming, safe—feels like it's slipping through your fingers. And yet, beneath the unease, there's a flicker of something else. Anticipation, perhaps. Or maybe even excitement.

You take a sip of your tea, now lukewarm, and let out a soft chuckle. "Well," you say to no one in particular, "here's to new beginnings."

The storm rages on, but for the first time in a long while, you feel a spark of something you thought you'd lost—a sense of purpose, of possibility. And as the rain continues to fall, you can't help but wonder if this decision, as reckless as it feels, might just be the start of something extraordinary.

SCENEBREAK

The halls of U.A. High are alive with the usual hum of activity—students bustling to and from classes, the distant echo of training exercises, and the occasional explosion (courtesy of a certain blonde). But in the faculty office, the atmosphere is decidedly different.

Nezu, the ever-energetic principal, is practically bouncing in his chair, his tiny paws clasped together as a high-pitched squeal escapes him. His beady eyes gleam with unrestrained excitement, and his tail swishes back and forth like a metronome set to maximum speed.

Aizawa Shota, perpetually exhausted and draped in his signature yellow sleeping bag, glances up from the stack of papers he's been grading. His dark eyes narrow as he takes in Nezu's uncharacteristically animated demeanor.

"Sir," Aizawa drawls, his voice heavy with fatigue and a hint of irritation, "what is the matter?"

Nezu's laughter is light and airy, almost musical, as he turns to face the disheveled teacher. "Oh, don't worry about me, Aizawa," he says, his tone dripping with mischief. "It's just that we'll have a very, very gracious guest soon, indeed! You'll love her, trust me."

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild concern. "A guest?" he repeats, his voice flat. "You're this excited over a guest?"

Nezu's grin widens, his sharp teeth glinting in the fluorescent light. "Oh, she's not just any guest, Aizawa. She's... special. Unique, you might say. And I have a feeling she's going to shake things up around here in the most delightful way."

Aizawa sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Shake things up, huh? That's exactly what we need—more chaos."

Nezu chuckles again, his tiny frame practically vibrating with anticipation. "Oh, don't be such a pessimist, Aizawa. Change can be a good thing. And trust me, this is going to be very good."

Before Aizawa can respond, Nezu hops down from his chair and scurries toward the door, his excitement palpable. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some preparations to make. We want to make sure our guest feels right at home, don't we?"

And with that, he's gone, leaving Aizawa alone in the office. The tired teacher stares at the door for a moment, then shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "Great. Just what we needed—another wildcard."

He slumps back into his chair, his sleeping bag cocooning him once more. But despite his outward indifference, a small part of him can't help but wonder what—or who—has Nezu so worked up.