Capítulo 5: Chapter 5: Class 1-A
**Chapter 5: Class 1-A**
The morning light filtered through the towering glass walls of U.A. Academy, casting bright, clean streaks across the corridors. Gabimaru moved silently through the pristine halls, his footsteps absorbed by the soft hum of the academy's daily rhythm. Clad in U.A.'s uniform, he cut a striking figure against the sleek, modern design of the school—his sharp, golden eyes scanning the surroundings with quiet intensity. The uniform was well-fitted but felt strange on him, a stark contrast to his usual shinobi attire. Yet, he wore it with a quiet dignity, his white hair and intense gaze making him stand out without even trying.
As he neared the door of Class 1-A, he came to a pause, taking a slow, steady breath. Before he could enter, he heard voices behind him.
"Hey, isn't that the guy who hacked the entrance exam?" whispered Mineta to Kaminari, both of them halting mid-step as they noticed Gabimaru standing at the door.
"Yeah, that's him," Kaminari replied, nodding with a hint of amazement. The two gawked, slightly unsure if they should approach or keep their distance.
Gabimaru turned his head to look at them, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Ah, it's you two," he said simply, his voice calm and devoid of any judgment.
Mineta blinked in surprise, then pointed to himself. "Wait—you remember us?"
Gabimaru nodded. "I remember the faces of everyone who took the exam with me. It's part of my training," he replied, his gaze steady, almost clinical.
Kaminari let out a small, awestruck laugh. "What kind of memory do you have, dude? That's… insane!"
With a faint shrug, Gabimaru turned back toward the door, and the three entered the classroom together.
Inside, an animated scene was unfolding. Across the room, Tenya Iida stood rigidly in front of Katsuki Bakugo, who was slouched in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, an insolent smirk on his face. Iida's glasses gleamed with a mix of indignation and frustration as he pointed an accusing finger at Bakugo.
"This is unacceptable behavior!" Iida declared, his voice loud and clear. "This is a prestigious academy, and such conduct is unbecoming of a U.A. student!"
Kaminari chuckled nervously at the sight, scratching his head. "Is this really an elite class? They're fighting on the first day?"
Mineta, however, seemed utterly uninterested in the confrontation. His gaze roamed the classroom, focusing on the various female students. Clutching his chest in mock agony, he sighed. "So many beautiful girls… I think I might have a heart attack."
Gabimaru, meanwhile, took in the scene with quiet observation, his golden eyes moving from one student to the next. He saw in each of them a unique energy, a distinct presence that set them apart. He remained rooted in place, blending into the backdrop of the classroom without losing his own quiet aura, his stillness lending him a presence as powerful as the louder personalities around him.
Just then, a soft, polite voice interrupted his thoughts. "Um, excuse me—could I get through?"
Turning, Gabimaru found himself face-to-face with a young girl. Her brown hair was styled into a short bob, her round eyes warm and friendly. She had an open, approachable smile, her posture relaxed and sincere.
"Of course," Gabimaru replied, stepping aside.
The girl's gaze flickered to someone behind her, and Gabimaru followed her glance to a boy with messy green hair and wide, slightly anxious eyes. He stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as though debating whether to speak.
"See?" the girl said gently to him, smiling encouragingly. "All you have to do is ask."
The boy with the green hair flushed slightly and nodded. "Th-thank you, U-uraraka-san."
Gabimaru's eyes met Midoriya's for a brief moment. The green in Midoriya's gaze was earnest, layered with an almost overwhelming kindness that Gabimaru found… odd, though intriguing. The exchange of glances lasted only a second, yet in that instant, Gabimaru sensed a strange, unspoken understanding. Midoriya had a quiet strength in his eyes, an unfamiliar, resolute spark. For just a heartbeat, they regarded each other—one with golden eyes, calm and unyielding; the other with emerald eyes, soft yet determined. Though fleeting, the connection felt significant, as if it was a prelude to something larger.
Suddenly, Midoriya's expression changed as he noticed Bakugo across the room. His eyes widened in shock. "Kacchan!" he gasped, barely able to keep his surprise in check.
Bakugo shot him a glare, a sneer pulling at his mouth. "Hah? What's that nerd doing here?" he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt.
Before the tension could escalate further, a new voice cut through the air—a low, slightly weary tone. "Why are you all crowding around the doorway?"
All heads turned to see a man standing there, his gaze half-hidden behind a curtain of unruly dark hair. Dressed in a black jumpsuit and with an expression that could only be described as perpetually tired, Shota Aizawa, their homeroom teacher, surveyed the students with an air of resigned authority.
"I'm Aizawa Shota, your homeroom teacher," he announced, his tone flat yet carrying a distinct weight. "There's no need to sit down. Instead, get yourselves to the changing rooms and put on your U.A. training uniforms. We're heading to the training grounds."
Several students exchanged looks of disbelief, the excitement of meeting new classmates mingling with the unexpected command.
"But… aren't we supposed to, you know, introduce ourselves first?" someone muttered from the back.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow. "Here at U.A., we have the freedom to teach you as we see fit. Now, move it. And don't be late," he said, before walking out of the room with an unhurried pace, leaving a wake of stunned silence.
Slowly, the students filed out, their excitement tempered by the sudden change in plans. Gabimaru moved quietly with the rest, his gaze forward, focused but contemplative. He found the changing rooms and slipped into the U.A. training uniform, glancing down at himself as he adjusted the sleeves. The material was sturdy yet flexible, built for rigorous training, though he noted the unfamiliar feel compared to his usual attire. He studied his own form in the mirror, noting the toned muscles beneath the fabric, a reminder of the years he had dedicated to training, to honing himself into a weapon.
Around him, the students chattered eagerly, many of them grinning at the prospect of hands-on training. "Yes! No boring math problems on the first day!" one of them cheered, pumping a fist in the air. There was an infectious energy in their laughter, a thrill that even Gabimaru could feel echoing faintly within himself, stirring something he hadn't felt in years—an almost forgotten sense of belonging.
Together, the students left the changing rooms and began their walk toward the training grounds, the sun now fully risen, casting a warm glow over the campus.
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