The days at UA fell into a rhythm. Classes, training, studying. Hancock kept to herself as always, but she noticed things changing in small, almost imperceptible ways.

  Ashido still tried to talk to her, though less persistently now. "Good morning, Hancock!" became a daily greeting that Hancock had started to acknowledge with a small nod.

  Yaoyorozu, the girl who'd ranked third, occasionally asked her opinion during group discussions. Hancock answered because the questions were logical, not because she wanted conversation.

  And Bakugo...

  Bakugo watched her.

  She'd catch him staring during hero training, his eyes analytical rather than just angry. During Quirk theory class, when she answered a question about hormone-based Quirks, she saw him lean forward slightly, listening.

  It was unsettling.

  Three days after the Battle Trial, during lunch, Hancock sat alone as usual. She'd claimed a table in the corner of the cafeteria where she could observe everyone while remaining separate.

  She was halfway through her meal when a tray slammed down across from her.

  Bakugo dropped into the seat, glaring at her like she'd personally offended him by existing.

  "What—" Hancock started.

  "Shut up. I'm sitting here."

  "I didn't invite you."

  "Don't care." He stabbed at his food aggressively. "Everyone else is annoying. You at least know when to be quiet."

  Hancock stared at him. This was possibly the strangest interaction she'd had in years. "You could sit alone."

  "I am sitting alone. You don't count as company."

  Something about that statement was almost... not insulting. As if he understood that she preferred solitude, that sitting together didn't require conversation or forced friendliness.

  "Fine," Hancock said finally, returning to her own meal.

  They ate in silence for several minutes. It should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn't. It was just... quiet.

  "Your Quirk," Bakugo said abruptly. "The petrification. It only works on living things, right?"

  Hancock's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know?"

  "Because I'm not an idiot. During the entrance exam, you didn't petrify any robots. You had to use physical attacks." He leaned back, arms crossed. "That's a major weakness."

  "I'm aware."

  "So what are you gonna do about it?"

  Hancock set down her chopsticks carefully. "Develop new techniques. Applications of my Quirk that work on non-living targets."

  "Like what?"

  "That's none of your concern."

  Bakugo's eye twitched. "You know what your problem is? You're so busy pushing everyone away that you're making yourself weaker."

  "I don't need anyone's help."

  "That's stupid!" His voice rose, drawing looks from nearby tables. He lowered it to a harsh whisper. "You think All Might got to be number one alone? You think any top hero did? They have sidekicks, support teams, people who cover their weaknesses!"

  "I'm not weak."

  "I didn't say you were! I said you have weaknesses! Everyone does!" He stood abruptly, grabbing his tray. "Whatever. Keep being stubborn. See how far it gets you."

  He stalked off, leaving Hancock alone again.

  She stared at the space he'd vacated, his words echoing in her mind.

  You're making yourself weaker.

  Was she?

  That afternoon, during hero training, they practiced rescue scenarios. Hancock found herself paired with Todoroki—the quiet boy with the ice and fire Quirk.

  They worked efficiently together, mostly because neither felt the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. Todoroki created ice structures to reach trapped dummies, while Hancock used her enhanced strength to move debris.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  "Your physical abilities are impressive," Todoroki commented at one point. "Your Quirk enhances them?"

  "Yes. Hormonal manipulation allows me to temporarily increase strength, speed, and other physical attributes."

  "Versatile." He paused. "But limited against objects."

  Everyone seemed determined to remind her of this today.

  "I'm working on it," Hancock said curtly.

  Todoroki nodded, accepting this without judgment. They completed the scenario in the second-fastest time, after Iida and Ojiro.

  As they walked back, Todoroki spoke again. "Bakugo sat with you at lunch."

  It wasn't a question, but Hancock answered anyway. "He did."

  "He doesn't usually sit with anyone."

  "Neither do I."

  "I noticed." Todoroki glanced at her. "You and I are similar in that way. Preferring solitude."

  Hancock considered this. Todoroki did seem to keep himself separate, though perhaps for different reasons. She'd noticed the way he avoided using his fire side, the coldness in his eyes when he looked at Endeavor during the Sports Festival announcement.

  "Perhaps," she acknowledged.

  They parted ways without another word, and Hancock found herself thinking that if she had to interact with her classmates, at least some of them understood the value of silence.

  A week after the Battle Trial, Aizawa announced they would be electing a class president.

  The room erupted into chaos as nearly everyone raised their hands, shouting about why they should be chosen. Hancock kept her hand down, watching the spectacle with faint distaste.

  "SILENCE!" Iida's voice cut through the noise. He proposed they vote democratically.

  When the votes were tallied, Midoriya somehow got three votes. Yaoyorozu got two. And Hancock...

  "Hancock also has two votes," Aizawa announced in his monotone.

  Hancock's eyes widened fractionally. Who had voted for her? She'd certainly hadn't voted for herself—she'd written Yaoyorozu's name, recognizing the girl's natural leadership qualities.

  "We need a tiebreaker," Iida said. "Between Yaoyorozu and Hancock for vice president."

  "I decline," Hancock said immediately, standing. "Yaoyorozu is better suited for the position."

  "Are you sure?" Yaoyorozu asked, looking surprised. "You received votes for a reason."

  "I'm certain. I have no interest in leadership." Hancock sat back down, ending the discussion.

  Midoriya became president, Yaoyorozu vice president. As the chaos settled, Hancock wondered again who had voted for her.

  She caught Bakugo looking at her with an unreadable expression. Then he scoffed and looked away.

  Surely not, she thought. He hates me.

  But the doubt lingered.

  At lunch that day, Bakugo sat at her table again without asking.

  "You gave up the position," he said without preamble.

  "I didn't want it."

  "Why not? You'd be better than that nervous wreck Deku."

  "Leadership requires trust. Communication. Working with others." Hancock met his gaze. "Those aren't my strengths."

  "They could be. If you tried."

  "I don't want them to be."

  Bakugo was quiet for a moment, unusually thoughtful. "You know what I think? I think you're scared."

  Hancock's expression went cold. "I'm not scared of anything."

  "Not of fighting. Not of training. But of people." He leaned forward. "You're terrified of letting anyone close. That's why you gave up the position. That's why you hold back your Quirk. That's why you sit alone."

  "You're sitting here," Hancock pointed out icily.

  "Because I don't count, remember?" Bakugo smirked, but there was something sharp in his eyes. "I'm not asking to be your friend, Empress. I'm just calling it like I see it."

  "Then perhaps you should look more carefully."

  "Maybe you should too."

  They glared at each other across the table, the air between them charged with tension.

  The alarm suddenly blared, breaking the moment.

  "SECURITY LEVEL 3 HAS BEEN BROKEN! ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE IN AN ORDERLY FASHION!"

  The cafeteria erupted into panic. Students stampeded toward the exits, pushing and shoving. Hancock stood calmly, assessing the situation.

  Through the windows, she could see the cause—press members had broken through the gate. Not villains. Just overeager reporters.

  But the students didn't know that. The crowd was becoming dangerous, people getting crushed against the walls.

  Hancock looked for the teachers but couldn't see them through the chaos. Someone needed to take control.

  Her eyes found Iida, stuck in the crowd. Then Uraraka, looking terrified. Midoriya, trying to calm people down but being ignored.

  Not my problem, she thought automatically. I'm not a leader. I don't—

  A first-year student fell, about to be trampled.

  Hancock moved without thinking. She enhanced her leg strength and leaped onto one of the tables, landing with enough force that the bang cut through some of the noise.

  "EVERYONE STOP!" Her voice, usually so quiet, rang out with surprising authority.

  Some students actually paused, looking up at her.

  "It's just the press at the gate," Hancock continued, pointing at the windows. "Look for yourselves. There's no danger. Return to your classes in an orderly fashion."

  "How do we know you're telling the truth?!" someone shouted.

  Hancock's eyes narrowed. She needed credibility, someone they would listen to.

  Her gaze found Iida still trapped in the crowd. An idea formed.

  She jumped down, pushing through the students with enhanced strength until she reached him. Before he could react, she touched his shoulder, using her emotional manipulation Quirk for the first time on a classmate.

  Not to control him. Just to calm him. To give him the confidence he needed.

  "Iida," she said quietly. "They need someone they trust. Tell them what I told you."

  Iida blinked, the panic fading from his eyes as her Quirk took effect. He looked at her, then at the windows, then nodded.

  Using his Quirk, he propelled himself above the crowd. "EVERYONE! IT'S JUST THE MEDIA! THERE'S NO THREAT! PLEASE CALM DOWN AND RETURN TO YOUR CLASSROOMS!"

  His familiar voice, his obvious authority—it worked. The panic subsided. Students began moving in an orderly fashion again.

  Hancock slipped back through the crowd, heading for the exit. She didn't need recognition. Didn't want it.

  But as she passed, she felt someone grab her wrist.

  Bakugo.

  "That was your Quirk," he said. Not a question. "You used it on Four-Eyes."

  "I helped him calm down. That's all."

  "That's not all. You took charge. You helped people." His grip tightened slightly. "You stopped holding back."

  Hancock pulled her wrist free. "It was necessary. Nothing more."

  "Keep telling yourself that, Empress."

  He let her go, and Hancock disappeared into the hallway, her heart beating faster than it should.

  She'd used her Quirk on someone. Touched them willingly. Influenced their emotions.

  And the world hadn't ended.

  It was just once, she told herself. Just a necessary action. It doesn't mean anything.

  But she could still feel where Bakugo had grabbed her wrist, and she couldn't quite convince herself that nothing had changed.