MHA - CLASS P-01

The elevator descended far longer than anyone in Class 1-A had expected. “Sensei,” Kaminari began, staring at the illuminated floor numbers, “I'm starting to think you're taking us to a secret villain prison.” “Would you like me to leave you here?” Aizawa asked without looking up from his phone. “Nope. Never mind. Beautiful elevator. Love the architecture.” Mina snorted. “You got scared so fast!” “I'm not scared! I'm just respecting the mysterious underground elevator!” “That's literally what being scared sounds like,” Jiro muttered. Midoriya, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with questions. “A restricted underground facility with independent security systems... Could it be an experimental training zone? Or perhaps a specialized hero program? If it's classified, then maybe the Quirks involved require—” “Deku. Breathe,” Bakugo snapped. Todoroki glanced at the floor display. “If this is a prison, I assume we're the prisoners.” “WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT SO CASUALLY?!” Kaminari shouted. The elevator doors opened. Beyond them lay a wide, pristine corridor illuminated by recessed lights. Reinforced walls stretched in either direction, interrupted by security panels and sealed doors. Despite the depth underground, the air was comfortable, and the facility looked more like an advanced residential complex than a bunker. At the far end stood the entrance to a spacious common room. Aizawa stepped forward. “Welcome to P-01. Before anyone asks, no, this isn't a regular classroom. And no, I don't teach these students.” Iida immediately straightened. “Then who is responsible for their academic and practical supervision, sir?” “They are.” Aizawa pointed at the common room. Inside, seven teenagers were having an argument that sounded considerably less like a classified government-level program and considerably more like seven people who had known each other for too long. “I'm telling you, if you put enough force behind it, the wall is going to move,” Santiago Reyes declared, leaning back against the sofa with an infuriating grin. Across from him, Dmitri Volkov didn't even lift his eyes from the book in his hands. “The wall is reinforced with three separate layers of impact-resistant material.” “Exactly. Three layers. Three things to break.” “You're an idiot.” “An idiot with vision.” Aarav Malhotra sat at the table nearby, scrolling through something on a tablet. “For the record, if you damage another wall, you're paying for the repairs.” Santiago turned toward him. “With what money?” “Your allowance.” “That's financial oppression.” “That's consequences.” Madison Brooks burst out laughing from the armchair. “Oh my God, he's got you there.” “Thank you, Madison. Always a pleasure to have your support.” “I'm not supporting you. I just want to see what happens when Dmitri finally throws you through a wall.” Dmitri turned a page. “I would choose the window. Less resistance.” Rafael Costa, who was sprawled across the sofa with his legs hanging over the armrest, raised a lazy hand. “I volunteer to record it.” “Your enthusiasm for property damage is concerning,” Lin Yue remarked, carefully arranging a cup on the table. “Your enthusiasm for pretending you don't enjoy our company is concerning.” Lin gave him a look. “I can make you regret speaking.” “See? That's friendship.” At the opposite end of the room, Kurose Akari sat in a chair with her chin resting against one hand. She had been listening to the entire conversation without contributing a single word. Finally, she spoke. “If the wall breaks, I'm disabling everyone's Quirks until the repair crew arrives.” Silence. Santiago slowly turned his head toward her. “You wouldn't.” Akari blinked. “Try me.” Madison covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. Aarav returned to his tablet as if the discussion had reached its natural conclusion. Then Santiago noticed the open doorway. His grin widened. “Oh, look. We've got visitors.” The seven turned toward the entrance. Aizawa stood in the doorway with Class 1-A gathered behind him, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the conversation they had just overheard. “Don't mind them,” Aizawa said flatly. “Unfortunately, they're like this every day.” “Sensei,” Iida began, visibly struggling to process the scene, “with all due respect, these are the students from the classified program?” “Yes.” “All seven of them?” Uraraka asked. “Seven are present,” Aarav corrected from his seat. “There are eight members in total.” Midoriya's eyes widened. “Eight? There are only eight students in the entire program?” “Congratulations,” Lin said. “You've successfully counted.” Jiro covered a laugh with her hand. “Okay, I already like her,” Mina whispered. “I heard that,” Lin replied. “THAT WAS THE POINT!” Santiago stood up and stretched, looking over the newcomers with open curiosity. “So, this is Class 1-A? The famous first-years?” Bakugo's expression immediately darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing bad.” Santiago smiled. “I just expected you to be taller.” “YOU WANNA DIE?!” “See? I like this one.” “Bakugo!” Iida barked, chopping the air with both hands. “Please refrain from threatening our hosts!” “They started it!” “They absolutely did,” Todoroki agreed. Aizawa sighed like a man reconsidering every career decision that had led him to this moment. “Enough. Class 1-A, this is P-01. These eight students were selected because their Quirks and combat capabilities place them beyond the usual parameters of hero education. Their potential exceeds that of the Big Three in several measured areas, and their individual abilities can surpass those of professional heroes under the right conditions.” The common room quieted slightly. Even Bakugo stopped arguing long enough to listen. Kirishima stared. “Wait. Stronger than the Big Three?” “That's what he said,” Jiro replied. Midoriya was already mumbling under his breath. “Eight students, international recruitment, individualized facilities, no conventional classroom teacher... That means their Quirks must have extraordinary applications, possibly large-scale destructive capabilities, unusual utility, or—” “Midoriya,” Aizawa warned. “Right! Sorry!” Madison grinned at the newcomers. “Don't look so worried. We don't bite.” Rafael lifted his head from the sofa. “Speak for yourself.” “Rafael.” “What? It's a joke.” “Your jokes are why we have a rule against letting you answer the door.” “That's an unfairly specific rule.” “It was written because of you,” Aarav said. “Details.” Todoroki studied the room, his expression thoughtful. “You really don't have a teacher?” “No assigned classroom teacher,” Dmitri answered. “We manage our own schedules and training.” “And nobody supervises you?” Yaoyorozu asked. “Not in the way you're imagining,” Aarav explained. “We have regulations, medical staff, security protocols, and access to U.A.'s resources. We're not abandoned in a basement.” “That's reassuring,” Uraraka admitted. “Although,” Santiago added, “if you want to see what happens when we ignore the rules—” “You don't,” Lin interrupted. “—you should ask Dmitri about the training room incident.” Dmitri finally closed his book. “Santiago.” “See? He's shy about it.” “I will throw you into the ceiling.” “Love you too, man.” Akari glanced at the doorway, then at Aizawa. “Are you going to introduce the rest of them, or are we supposed to keep entertaining ourselves?” Aizawa's tired eyes shifted toward Class 1-A. “Right. Introductions. Try to behave like functioning human beings for five minutes.” “No promises,” Rafael said. Aizawa ignored him. “Santiago Reyes, from Mexico. Aarav Malhotra, from India. Dmitri Volkov, from Russia. Lin Yue, from China. Madison Brooks, from the United States. Rafael Costa, from Brazil. Kurose Akari, from Japan.” Each student acknowledged the introductions in their own way: Santiago with a two-fingered salute, Aarav with a small nod, Dmitri with a glance, Lin with a polite inclination of her head, Madison with a wave, Rafael with an exaggerated bow from the sofa, and Akari with the barest lift of her hand. “And the eighth member,” Aizawa added, “will introduce themselves when they're ready.” Santiago glanced toward the entrance again, his expression brightening with interest. “Oh, this should be good.” “Don't make it weird,” Madison warned him. “I haven't done anything!” “Yet,” Aarav said. Bakugo folded his arms, visibly irritated by the entire situation. Midoriya looked as if he had a thousand questions prepared. Mina was already whispering to Uraraka about how cool the dormitory looked, while Kirishima seemed torn between wanting to challenge someone to a spar and asking them about their training routine. Todoroki remained quietly observant. And P-01, the supposedly untouchable program hidden beneath U.A., had finally been introduced to Class 1-A.