"Hero names."
"Excuse me, what now?"
"Hero names," he repeats, looking at me like I'm particularly slow. "The alias you'll use as a professional hero. The name civilians will know you by. The name that'll be on merchandise, news reports, and your eventual Wikipedia page."
"Wikipedia's still a thing?" Nejire asks.
"Focus, Hado."
We're in our usual classroom, but instead of desks covered with textbooks, everyone's got tablets and styluses. The assignment is simple in concept, impossible in execution: pick the name that'll define your entire hero career.
No pressure or anything.
"You have until the end of class," Aizawa continues. "Present Mic will be here to help you workshop ideas, since apparently coming up with names is harder than actual hero work."
He slouches out, leaving us with our tablets and our existential dread.
"This is so exciting!" Nejire immediately starts scribbling on her tablet. "I've been thinking about this since I was like seven!"
"Of course you have," I mutter, staring at my blank screen.
Honestly? I've got nothing. In the manga, everyone had these cool, meaningful names that tied into their quirks or personalities. Deku, Ingenium, Uravity—they all made sense.
Me? I'm the guy with stolen powers from a completely different fictional universe who can't even figure out if he wants to be here.
Lightning Boy? Sparky? The Electric Boogaloo?
God, I'm fucked.
"What about you, Tamaki?" Nejire asks. "Any ideas?"
Tamaki looks like he wants to disappear into his desk. "I... don't know. Maybe something with... food?"
"Ooh! Like Suneater! Because you eat things and then manifest their properties!"
"That's... actually not terrible," I admit.
"Right?" Nejire beams. "See, this isn't so hard!"
Says the girl who's been planning this since elementary school.
The door bursts open and Present Mic struts in like he owns the place. Which, I mean, he kind of does.
"HERO NAMES, LISTENERS! THE MOST IMPORTANT DECISION OF YOUR YOUNG LIVES!" He strikes a dramatic pose. "Well, aside from choosing your breakfast cereal, but that's a different kind of life-defining moment!"
"Is he always like this?" Tamaki whispers.
"Unfortunately," I whisper back.
"Alright, let's see what we're working with!" Present Mic starts walking around, looking at tablets. "Hado! What've you got?"
"Nejire Wave!" she announces proudly.
"Simple, effective, ties directly to your quirk! I like it! Though maybe consider variations—Wave Hero: Nejire? Or just Wave?"
"Ooh, I like Wave Hero: Nejire!"
Of course she nails it immediately.
"Amajiki!" Present Mic moves on. "Show me whatcha got!"
"Um... Suneater?"
"EXCELLENT! Mysterious, powerful, ties into your quirk's consumption aspect! Plus it sounds cool as hell!"
Two for two. Meanwhile, my tablet still says "Name ideas:" followed by a lot of white space and one doodle of what might be a lightning bolt or might be a really sad snake.
"Torino!" Present Mic appears behind me like some kind of enthusiasm demon. "Let's see those creative juices flowing!"
I tilt my tablet so he can see my pathetic attempt at brainstorming.
"Ah," he says. "The blank page syndrome. Classic case. What's your quirk again?"
"Electricity manipulation. Lightning generation. That kind of thing."
"And your personality?"
"Sarcastic? Dead inside? Questionable life choices?"
"PERFECT! We're gonna workshop this!" He grabs a marker and starts writing on the board. "Lightning-based names! Bolt! Shock! Thunder! Voltage! Amp!"
Each name is worse than the last.
"Those are all terrible," I say.
"Feedback! I love it! What feels wrong about them?"
"They're too... obvious? Like, 'Oh look, it's the lightning guy named Lightning.'"
"Ah! You want something with layers! Depth! Like how Eraserhead doesn't immediately tell you about quirk cancellation!"
Actually, yeah. That's exactly what I want.
"What about Storm?" Nejire suggests.
"Too broad. And there's already Storm Front as a hero name."
"Thunder?"
"Too loud. I'm more of a precision guy than a 'blow everything up' guy."
"Ooh!" She gets that look in her eyes. The dangerous one. "What about Raiden? Like the thunder god?"
I consider it. "Not bad, but feels like cultural appropriation waiting to happen."
"True. Um... Current?"
"Sounds like a geography term."
"Arc?"
"Arc's actually not terrible," I admit.
Present Mic writes it on the board. "Arc! Short, punchy, works as both a lightning reference and suggests character development! I like where this is going!"
"But?" I can hear the but coming.
"But it might be too simple. What about Arc Hero: something? Or just a different direction entirely?"
I stare at the board, willing inspiration to strike. Literally, in this case.
"What about..." I start writing on my tablet. "What about Tempest?"
"Ooh," Nejire leans over to look. "I like that. It's not just lightning—it's the whole storm."
But all I can think of is a certain blue slime.
"Tempest," Present Mic repeats, testing it. "Storm-themed, suggests power and intensity, not too on-the-nose. Yeah, I can work with that!"
"Tempest it is, I guess."
"Excellent! Next!"
The rest of the class goes by in a blur of name workshopping. Some are great (Kishimoto goes with Crystal Hero: Facet), some are questionable (Yoshida picks Stretch, which sounds like a yoga instructor), but everyone manages to come up with something.
By the end of class, we've all got our provisional hero names locked in.
"Remember," Present Mic says as the bell rings, "these aren't permanent! You can change them as you develop your hero persona! Some pros go through three or four names before finding the right fit!"
Great. No pressure, just the name I'll be known by for the rest of my professional life. Totally casual.
—
"Costume design time!" Midnight announces the next day, way too enthusiastically for someone talking about what amounts to specialized work clothes.
We're in the design lab, surrounded by mannequins, fabric samples, and enough high-tech equipment to outfit a small army. Support Course students bustle around, clearly in their element.
"Your hero costume isn't just about looking cool," Midnight continues. "Though that's important too. It's about functionality, protection, and supporting your quirk's needs."
She gestures to a wall covered with costume designs from famous heroes. "All Might's costume channels and amplifies his strength. Endeavor's regulates his body temperature. Best Jeanist's costume is literally made of fibers he can manipulate."
"What about heroes with less... outfit-dependent quirks?" Tanaka asks.
"Even simple quirks benefit from good design. Enhanced mobility, communication equipment, medical supplies, there's always something that can help."
She starts handing out design packets. "You've got three hours to create your initial design. The Support Course will review feasibility and suggest modifications. Final costumes will be ready next week."
I open my packet and immediately realize I'm screwed.
Because here's the thing, I never thought about this. Like, ever. While everyone else has probably been sketching costume ideas since they were kids, dreaming about what they'd look like as heroes, I was the quirkless kid who knew hero costumes weren't for people like me.
You don't design costumes when you spend your whole life knowing you'll never wear one.
The design sheet stares back at me, full of questions I've never had to consider:
Primary color scheme?Mask or helmet preference?Special equipment needs?Mobility requirements?Protection priorities?
Fuck.
"Having trouble?" Nejire asks. She's already sketching something that looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie, all flowing lines and aerodynamic curves.
"I may have... never thought about it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I was quirkless until three months ago. You don't design hero costumes when you know you'll never get to wear one."
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry, I didn't think—"
"It's fine," I cut her off before she can get all sympathetic. "Just means I get to figure it out now instead of being stuck with something I drew when I was seven."
"Fair point. Okay, let's think practically. What do you need your costume to do?"
I consider this. "Not catch fire when I use my quirk. Allow full range of motion. Maybe some protection against physical attacks?"
"Good start. What about your gauntlets? Do they need to be integrated?"
"Yeah, definitely. They're pretty essential for control."
"Color scheme?"
"I don't know. Black? Black's practical."
"Black's boring."
"Black goes with everything."
"So does navy blue. Or dark gray. Or literally any other color."
I look at her design, which features a lot of blue and white with spiral patterns. "Let me guess—blue and white?"
"With silver accents! And these wave patterns that aren't just decorative—they're actually aerodynamic channels that help direct my quirk!"
Of course they are. She's thought of everything.
"What about you, Tamaki?" I ask.
He holds up his design. It's surprisingly detailed—a dark blue bodysuit with a hood and what looks like utility pouches everywhere.
"Food storage," he explains quietly. "Different pockets for different types. And the hood helps with... people staring."
"That's actually genius," I tell him. "Mobile snack bar."
He almost smiles.
I look back at my blank design sheet. Black bodysuit. Simple mask. Maybe a cape?
Wait, no. Didn't Edna Mode have strong opinions about capes?
Fuck it. I start sketching. Simple black bodysuit, sleek and practical. Half-mask covering the upper half of my face, enough to protect my identity but not so much that it limits vision or breathing. The gauntlets integrated seamlessly into the design.
And yeah, a cape. Because apparently I have no sense of self-preservation.
"Really? A cape?" Nejire peers over my shoulder.
"What's wrong with capes?"
"They're impractical. They get caught on things. They can be grabbed by enemies."
"They look cool."
"That's not a good enough reason to—"
"They look really cool."
She sighs. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'aesthetically committed.'"
I finish the basic design and move on to the detail questions. Black fabric with some kind of insulation for electrical discharge. Reinforced joints for mobility. Communications equipment. Basic first aid supplies.
It's not fancy, but it's functional. And yeah, it looks pretty cool.
"Time!" Midnight calls.
We submit our designs to the Support Course students, who immediately start making notes and suggestions. One of them, a guy with thick glasses and calloused hands, takes my design.
"Interesting choice," he says, examining my sketch. "Very Golden Age hero aesthetic. Though I'd suggest some modifications, maybe electrical conduits woven into the fabric to help channel your quirk? And this cape..."
"What about the cape?"
"Detachable. Magnetic clasps that'll release under pressure. You get the look without the liability."
"That... actually makes sense."
"Safety first, style second. Though in this case, you can have both. Give me a week and I'll have something functional ready for you."
As we leave the design lab, Nejire's still shaking her head at my costume choices.
"I can't believe you went with a cape."
"I can't believe you went with spiral patterns."
"They're functional spirals!"
"All spirals are functional. That's what makes them spirals."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Nothing about this place makes sense. Might as well lean into it."
She laughs, bumping my shoulder. "Fair point. Though I still think you're going to regret the cape."
"Probably. But I'll look cool doing it."
"Your funeral."
"Hey, if I'm gonna die, at least I'll die with style."
We walk toward our next class, still debating costume choices. Around us, other students are doing the same thing—comparing designs, arguing about color schemes, getting excited about finally looking like real heroes.
And for the first time since I got here, I actually feel like I'm part of it. Not just the guy with weird powers trying to figure out how he fits in, but an actual student at an actual hero school, designing an actual hero costume.
It's a good feeling.
Even if I'm definitely going to regret the cape.