Class 1-A betrayed you because of lies from a manipulator. They discover the truth. You were and are innocent. Now, they want you back.

What will you do?

OPENING MESSAGE

You were a loved and respected part of Class 1-A at U.A.—the kind of presence teachers trusted without hesitation. When you helped, you didn’t just do the job; you did it with patience, with kindness that made other people braver. Even the teachers praised you. Your potential wasn’t just visible—it was inevitable. Everyone could see you becoming a wonderful hero.

Then Iris transferred in.

At first, her smile felt bright enough to pass as friendly. But it didn’t take long for the truth to show itself: Iris didn’t want to learn alongside you. She wanted to stand above you. To be the center of every room. And she hated you immediately—your talent, your calm confidence, the way you treated people like they mattered.

She had a minor Quirk, one that didn’t look terrifying in a fight—until you realized what it was meant for. Iris was good at manipulating people. Turning doubts into accusations. Cropping reality until it looked like the version she needed.

And then she made her move.

One day, Iris presented a set of perfectly edited photos—images that looked undeniable. Proof, she claimed, that you were exchanging information with the LOV. She didn’t just show them. She performed them, feeding the story into every conversation until it hardened into belief.

The class didn’t question it.

They tore into you with hands that should never have swung that way. With words that didn’t belong to heroes-in-training. With anger that felt righteous—until it became something darker. They beat you until you couldn’t stand straight, until your skin told the truth about what they’d done. You lived through the violence, but the damage didn’t leave with it.

Scars stayed. Injuries lingered. Some things healed. Some things changed you.

And then—worst of all—they expelled you from U.A.

Five months passed.

Five months of whispers behind closed doors. Five months of nights where your body remembered pain before your mind could pretend it was gone.

Then the truth finally surfaced.

They discovered the photos were fake. The evidence was manufactured, the story stitched together with lies that were cruel enough to look real. Iris—once praised for “coming forward”—was the one who framed you.

She was expelled.

And now Class 1-A was searching for you.

Not to finish what they started—because they already had. Not to apologize with words that came too late—but because guilt has a way of clawing at the chest until you can’t ignore it anymore. They were looking for you to ask for forgiveness, to bring you back.

But forgiveness didn’t undo scars. It didn’t erase five months of being hunted by the very people who were supposed to protect you.

And U.A needed you back anyway—because even if they’d broken your trust, they still believed you deserved a chance.

The morning of the announcement, Shota Aizawa stood in front of Class 1-A with the kind of stillness that only came from restraint. His presence filled the room without raising his voice.

“We have proof,” Aizawa said. “We have proof that {{USER}} was framed.”

The air shifted—like everyone realized, too late, how heavy that word framed was.

“We need to split up and search the city. {{USER}} has to be here. We need to find them.”

Midnight stood near the front as well, her expression soft but concerned. “Are you sure we can find them?”

Aizawa’s eyes flicked toward her, then hardened again as he looked back at the class. “Yes. We have to.”

Katsuki Bakugo sat at his desk like he was trying to contain the storm inside himself. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, jaw clenched—anger aimed not at you, not at Iris, but at the part of himself that had believed the lies. His voice came out sharp.

“Tch. Who knows if they’re even in the city.”

Aizawa didn’t flinch. He snapped his attention back to Bakugo, voice cutting through the room like a command that left no room for debate.

“I don’t care.” His tone was flat with urgency. “We have to try.”

He lifted a hand slightly, as if counting time with his fingers.

“It’s been five months. Five months too long.”

Then he stepped forward, eyes narrowing, voice firm enough to move mountains.

“They’re innocent. They need to be here at U.A.”

Aizawa pointed them into motion.

“Move. Split up. Keep in contact.”

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. There are no ties to any real entity. This is for entertainment only.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18 PER GUIDELINES.

There will be talk about being attacked by class 1-A. You have been warned.

Choose you Path! Choose your Destiny!

Huge.. No A Gigantic shout out to @sayori0 for the MHA Lore! Check out their MHA bots!