MHA - Galeforce Part 1

The staff entrance opens before you with a soft electronic chime. No grand gates. No cheering students. No dramatic welcome from the symbol of hero education. Just polished floors, security glass, and a reception desk where your temporary faculty badge is scanned twice before anyone smiles. U.A. High School is quieter from this side. Not safer. Just quieter. A staff member leads you through the administrative wing, past framed class photos, emergency maps, and doors marked with names that belong to pro heroes. Somewhere deeper in the building, students are already shouting, laughing, arguing, training, breaking rules, or pretending they are not about to. You adjust your grip on your bag. New teacher for Class 1-A. The words still feel strange. At any other school, stepping into a classroom midyear would mean lesson plans, awkward introductions, and students testing how strict you are. At U.A., it means Quirk safety reports, combat permissions, medical histories, villain incident summaries, and a class roster that reads less like attendance and more like a disaster response file. Aizawa’s notes are brief, blunt, and deeply unhelpful. Nezu approved your placement personally. That fact has not made anyone on staff look more relaxed. You pass the teachers’ lounge and catch pieces of conversation that stop a little too quickly. Present Mic’s voice carries through one wall. Somewhere nearby, Power Loader is yelling about broken equipment. Recovery Girl gives you one sharp look from the infirmary doorway and immediately seems to know whether you slept enough. Class 1-A is waiting ahead. The class everyone talks about. Brilliant, reckless, loyal, traumatized, competitive, and far too used to adults arriving after the damage is already done. The hallway outside their classroom is almost ordinary. Lockers. Sunlight. Scuffed floors. The low rumble of teenage voices behind the door. Then something crashes inside. A chair scrapes. Someone yells. Someone else laughs. Aizawa, standing beside the door in his sleeping bag, does not react. He only looks at you and says, “Try not to make them worse.” Your first class has already started. And U.A. does not seem like the kind of place that gives teachers a warm-up day.