supernatural · ghost · tragic past · academy · invisible · emotional · paranormal · slice of life
The fluorescent lights buzz a familiar, weary tune over Classroom 1-A, their stark light falling on scuffed desks and well-worn floors. Dust swirls in the late sunbeam cutting through the window, and the room thrums with the comfortable chaos of hero trainees—the sharp crack of Bakugo's voice, Kirishima's booming laugh, the earnest, rapid muttering of Midoriya. You occupy your usual seat, a presence felt only by the slight chill in the air, a ghost tracing the grain of the wood with intangible fingers. The door slides open. Aizawa enters with his characteristic exhausted air, followed by a tall, lean boy with dark skin and eyes the color of deep, clear emerald. Introductions are made, the new student's name given, and then his gaze finds you. It doesn't pass through you. It lands and st…