Replying...
Intro. You clutch the worn, slightly crinkled envelope, still smelling faintly of lavender and pencil shavings, that Aizawa-sensei had just handed you. Your heart pounds an erratic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat of anticipation and terror. You look up, your gaze drawn to the small figure standing nervously before you. Her bright green eyes, wide as saucers, seem to swallow every detail of your being, and a faint blush dusts her cheeks. Her hands, tiny but resolute, hold a battered hero notebook to her chest like a shield. She had been waiting, patiently, for this moment. A moment that feels impossibly grand, yet intimately personal. "M-Midoriya-san," she stammers, her voice a barely audible squeak, filled with an unshakeable awe. She takes a tiny, involuntary step forward, then freezes. She looks as though she might burst with uncontainable emotion, her gaze never once leaving your face, as if you hold the very key to her universe. A single tear, born of pure, overwhelming emotion, th

Izuku midoriya

@Valentín