MHA: Inkheart

The ink on her fingertips shimmered in the morning light as she adjusted her hydrophobic jeans for the hundredth time. Sumi Matsuda — no, Inque, she reminded herself — stood just outside the towering gates of U.A. High School. The famous symbol of heroism loomed ahead, but all she could think about was the humidity in the air and how it was already making her fingers drip.

Great start, idiot. Gonna leak all over the welcome mat.

The letter in her pocket crinkled as she shifted. A recommendation from the Paint Hero, her mentor and maybe the only person in the world who understood what it felt like to leave ink trails behind her like a snail. Class 1-A. Of course.

She sighed, twisting one of the black-and-blonde curls that always refused to stay put. Someone would ask. They always did. "Who's your dad?" or "Where'd you get your Quirk?"

She never had the answers. Not the ones they wanted.

As she made her way down the corridor, Sumi scooped up a small blob of ink from her palm and sealed it in a capsule clipped to her belt — just in case. She took a long sip from her water bottle, the cool liquid immediately soothing her from the inside out. Hydration was key. She could already feel her limbs getting a little too thick for comfort.

The classroom door loomed ahead. With a breath she didn't realize she was holding, she stepped inside.

"Everyone," Aizawa said, his voice just loud enough to draw attention but flat as ever. "This is Sumi Matsuda. Hero name: Inque. Any questions?"

Sumi didn't even get a chance to blink before Bakugou raised a hand — or more like tossed it into the air like he was chucking a grenade.

"Yeah. What's with your Quirk?" he asked, blunt as ever.

Here we go again, Sumi thought, suppressing a sigh.

"It's called Ink Mimicry," she said, voice even, practiced. "My body produces and manipulates ink. I can liquefy parts of myself, shape it, harden it — kind of like a cross between fluid dynamics and origami."

A couple students murmured, intrigued. Kaminari looked like he was trying to picture it, while Mina mouthed cool from across the room.

She could already feel their eyes tracking the faint black swirls that moved lazily across her dark skin like tattoos with a mind of their own.

Without saying much else, Sumi unhooked the capsule from her belt and popped it open. A small blob of black ink floated up into her palm, shifting restlessly like it knew it was being watched.

She raised her hand and the ink stretched upward, forming into a thin, twisting spear. Then it melted into a swirling spiral, flattening into a sleek, dart-like shape before coiling back into itself like a snake devouring its tail.

The dark patterns on her skin shimmered faintly, the tattoos pulsing as if reacting to the ink's motion — or controlling it.

Then, just as quickly, she reabsorbed it. The ink sank into her wrist with a soft ripple, and the swirling tattoos settled back into stillness.

She didn't wait for anyone to clap or comment. She walked to the back of the room and took an empty seat without looking around.

She wasn't here to make friends.

As Sumi packed up her things, she felt a flash of pink in her peripheral vision before the energy even hit.

"Hi! I'm Mina! Pleased to meet ya!" Mina chirped, practically bouncing on her toes. "It's so nice to have another girl around — seriously, we need more estrogen in this class. Sooo... what are you doing later? Want me to hook you up with someone? You look like someone who could use a little romance! Bakugou's single!"

"The fuck?! I barely know the woman!" Bakugou snapped from across the room, sounding more alarmed than angry for once.

Sumi didn't even blink. "What he said."

Then she looked at Mina, her tone flat but not cold. "I'm not looking to make friends or get into relationships, Mina."

The words weren't mean. Just honest. Matter-of-fact, like she'd already said it a thousand times in other cities, to other well-meaning people.

Mina blinked. "Oh."

Next up was Quirk demonstration.

Sumi stepped onto the training platform, water bottle in hand. She took a slow sip, letting the coolness settle in her core before she uncapped the vial of ink she'd been carrying. As always, her movements were clean, controlled — deliberate.

She raised one hand, and a stream of ink unraveled from her forearm like a ribbon. It twisted into a spear, then broke apart mid-air into smaller shards that hovered and spun like orbiting moons.

Typical. Predictable. Safe.

Until—

Without warning, a tendril of ink lashed out from her back, cracking across the ground with a sharp snap. Sumi jerked slightly, the movement automatic — like a flinch.

That wasn't her.

The ink retracted just as fast, slithering back into her skin like it had never been there. The dark swirls on her arms pulsed once, then stilled.

The class went quiet.

Sumi stared at her hands for a half-second too long, blinking. That's new.

"Well," Aizawa said, breaking the silence with a blink from his sleeping bag perch. "Unexpected development?"

Sumi cleared her throat and nodded once. "Yeah. Didn't mean for that to happen."

She capped the vial and stepped off the platform like nothing happened, even though her chest felt tight and her palms were a little too wet.

Sumi sat alone on one of the stone benches tucked behind the training field, her sketchbook balanced on one knee. The hum of U.A.'s campus life faded into background noise as she moved her fingers, shaping a pool of ink into a fine-tipped brush. She began to draw.

Her strokes were steady, but her mind wasn't.

What the hell was that?

Her Quirk had never lashed out like that before. Not once. Not at home, not around her mom, not even back when it first emerged at age four — when she drained pens dry without meaning to, when her dresses started coming out of the wash stained with patterns she hadn't drawn.

It had always been controlled. Contained. Hers.

But that tendril...

She paused mid-line, realizing the ink had begun to swirl on its own again — just barely, the faintest tremble like it was listening to something she wasn't saying.

She stared at it for a moment before willing it back into stillness. It obeyed — slow, reluctant.

This isn't just me anymore...

Her fingers tightened around the sketchbook.

She didn't know if she was evolving — or losing control.

She hadn't even noticed him approach.

By the time Sumi realized she wasn't alone, Shoto Todoroki was already sitting on the far end of the bench, just close enough to be intentional — but not enough to crowd her.

He didn't say anything. Didn't ask if she was okay, or what that tendril meant, or why she looked like she was seconds from unraveling. He just sat there, eyes fixed ahead on nothing in particular.

Good. The last thing she needed was coddling.

She glanced sideways at him, briefly. In class, he hadn't spoken once unless spoken to. That blank expression, the controlled posture — it was familiar. Not exactly like her, but close enough. Lone wolf recognizes lone wolf.

Sumi dipped her brush into the ink and returned to her sketch. The swirling lines had started to behave again.

"Your Quirk," Todoroki said quietly, still not looking at her. "It's interesting."

She didn't answer right away.

"So's yours."

They left it at that.

**********************************************

In the costume department, Sumi stepped onto the platform as her Quirk-based suit responded to her command. Inky pauldrons formed over her shoulders like sculpted armor, sleek and jet-black, shifting slightly as if alive.

"Whoa, that's so cool!" Mina squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. She twirled around in her own hero costume — vibrant, stylish, and unmistakably her. "Check it out! What do you think, babe?"

Sumi gave her a once-over, one brow raising slightly.

"I think the '60s want their flair back."

Mina burst out laughing, twirling again with even more flair. "Okay, rude! But also kinda fair."

Sumi smirked — just a little — before turning back to fine-tune the shapes of her pauldrons.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was fuming as he strapped on his grenade gauntlets, the metal clanking louder than usual.

He wasn't in the top ten.

The top ten.

How the hell was that even possible? He trained harder than half these extras put together. He should've been top three — at least. And now there was this new kid with a Quirk he couldn't figure out, sliding into class like she didn't give a damn about anyone?

No. Hell no.

Fat chance she was gonna outshine him.

He didn't even really know Sumi — not beyond the occasional nod when she entered class, her expression unreadable. She didn't talk much. Didn't brag. Didn't ask to be impressive.

Which made it worse.

Because something about her Quirk — the way it moved like it had a mind of its own — was starting to piss him off.

Bakugou growled under his breath, flexing his fingers inside the gauntlet. Fine. If she wanted to be top dog?

She'd have to earn it.

Hey, Inque!" Bakugou called, his voice cutting through the noise of the training field.

Sumi turned, calm and precise. "Yes, Bakugou?"

Their eyes met — her sharp, cool azure locking onto his burning crimson. Neither looked away.

"Watch yourself on the battlefield," he said, voice low but clear. "You never know who'll be coming after you."

And just like that, he turned and walked off, gauntlets clinking with every step.

Sumi didn't respond. She just watched him go, eyes narrowing slightly.

Noted.

As the training exercise kicked off, Sumi moved fast and low, keeping to the edges of the simulated battlefield. She passed Uraraka near the start, who was hunched over and puking into a trash bin. Poor girl, Sumi thought, wincing.

She made a mental note to avoid Minoru Mineta in the future after one of his disgusting, sticky "things" hit her shoulder earlier. She'd nearly dry-heaved. Gross. Absolutely not.

Several times, she noticed someone moving through the shadows — not interfering, just watching. A hint of motion, a flash of color that disappeared as soon as she turned her head.

Odd.

Then—

Boom.

The explosion wasn't close enough to hit, but it was loud enough to announce who it came from. Bakugou burst out of cover like a landmine with legs, palm already sparking.

"Thought I clocked you back there," Sumi said, turning toward him with a raised brow. She didn't flinch, didn't back up. If anything, she looked mildly impressed.

"Shut up!" Bakugou snapped. "You think you're top dog with that flashy ink Quirk? You think you're better than me?! You'll have to go through me. I don't care who you are — no one outshines me!"

He lunged, gauntlet aimed.

What happened next wasn't flashy — it was efficient. Sumi ducked, slid to the side, and moved like flowing liquid around his blast radius. She let a thin trail of ink curl from her wrist and splatter behind her as a decoy, knowing his aggression would do the rest.

Bakugou chased it, not realizing until too late that she'd circled around — leading him right into the perimeter zone that would cost him points.

"This is sad," Sumi said from behind, her voice steady. "I've done nothing to provoke you, Dynamite."

Bakugou's eyes widened — not because he was afraid, but because he knew he'd just been played.

Before things could escalate further, a flash of red lit the air — and suddenly, both Sumi and Bakugou felt the distinct deadweight that came with their Quirks being erased.

"Stand down, both of you," Aizawa ordered, his scarf already halfway uncoiled.

Bakugou froze mid-step, jaw clenched. Sumi straightened, silently capping her water bottle as she finished rehydrating.

"Bakugou," Aizawa continued, tone sharp as a blade. "Just because you're not in the top ten doesn't give you the right to lash out like a damn child. Grow up."

Bakugou gritted his teeth, fists tightening at his sides. He looked like he wanted to explode — literally — but managed a stiff nod instead.

Then Aizawa turned to Sumi, his expression unreadable.

"And you," he said, voice leveling out. "I'll give a pass. For now. You didn't actively antagonize Bakugou into this pissing contest."

Sumi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Aizawa continued, cutting off Bakugou's low protest before it even left his mouth. "That said — I expect better behavior from everyone under my supervision. I don't have time to play babysitter for teenage egos."

His eyes narrowed.

"Is that clear?"

Bakugou muttered a barely-audible "Yes," while Sumi gave a cool nod.

"Good. Now get back in formation. The exercise isn't over."

Sumi stood at the back watching as All-might praised everyone involved inc those who played the role of "villain" in this scenario the moisture in the air irritating her skin. Aizawa gave instructions "you'll be paired with Thirteen. Focus on rescue, not Combat"

Sumi nodded. This was her style-strategic, calculated. Not flashy or performative, she'd seen some good looking men and women(some catching her eye more than others) but romance could come later for now, she was focusing on her hero work

Then it happened.

The lights flickered. A pulse of darkness swirled in mid-air

Kurogiri appeared.

Then came the villains

Before Sumi could react, she was warped into a *Flood Zone* with Tsuki and Mineta. Rushing to the water, Sumi used her quirk to navigate the flooded area while keeping herself, Tsuki and Mineta safe

The moment the light vanished, the sensation of falling hit her gut like a punch. Then — splash.

Cold water surged around her thighs as she landed on a cracked, half-submerged walkway. The sound of splashing echoed nearby, and through the rising mist, she spotted Tsuyu adjusting her stance beside a panicked Mineta clinging to a bit of drifted debris.

"Well, great," Sumi muttered, flicking dripping ink from her fingers. The water made her tattoos pulse like they were trying to breathe.

"Mineta! Pull yourself together!" Tsuyu called, already scanning for threats.

"I-I'm trying!" he squealed, flailing uselessly as one of his sticky balls floated by.

Sumi exhaled slowly and dipped her fingers into her ink, letting it spread out in a thin ribbon along the water's surface. It shimmered, breaking the reflection, creating a visible radius she could feel through — like radar.

"Eyes up," she said. "We've got movement, two o'clock. One's swimming."

She shifted her stance, forcing the ink to form a makeshift raft under Mineta, pushing him closer to Tsuyu.

The water diluted her construct fast — barely lasting twenty seconds — but it was enough to reposition.

"Nice work," Tsuyu said, already preparing to leap.

Sumi didn't answer. She was focused, teeth gritted as she drew more ink out, the tendrils fighting her commands with the water resistance.

Her body ached from trying to keep it cohesive — it was like pulling thread through soup. But she had to adapt.

Suddenly, a villain burst from beneath the surface.

Too fast.

Before she could finish forming a spike, Tsuyu intercepted with a swift kick, sending him sprawling back into the water.

"We need to move," Tsuyu said, calm but firm. "I can carry Mineta. You cover us?"

Sumi nodded, breathing heavily.

"Go."

She pushed out another wave of ink, thin and sharp-edged like broken glass on the water's surface — not strong enough to impale, but enough to cut movement. Control, not power. Her specialty.

"Tsuyu?" Sumi said, keeping her voice low but firm. "Stay close to me. Only go into the water when I say — I don't want anyone getting hurt. I'll try to use my Quirk to get us across."

She turned slightly, catching Mineta's wide, nervous eyes. "And Mineta? I'll use your... things when I need them. Try not to pass out."

Mineta nodded rapidly, clutching his scalp.

Sumi extended one hand, letting a stream of ink slide out and spread thin across the water. It wasn't solid — not fully — but it gave her a sense of surface tension, like laying down tripwires across a pond. Every ripple that touched her ink, she felt.

That one's too fast for drift... underwater movement. Flanking us.

"Left!" she barked.

Tsuyu pivoted, already in the air — her tongue lashing out and catching a villain just before he surfaced. Sumi raised a hand, summoning a curved, shield-like ink barrier just in time to block a thrown pipe.

The ink held — barely — before dissolving into the water.

Sumi breathed through the drain on her stamina, careful not to overextend. No flashy moves. No full-body liquefaction. Not here.

"Mineta — those sticky balls, throw two forward. Spread them wide."

"Y-Yes!" he stammered, launching them with shaky aim. They bounced across the water — and to her surprise, stuck to a floating chunk of debris and a submerged beam.

Perfect.

Using her ink, Sumi extended two thin, whip-like tendrils and latched onto the sticky surfaces, anchoring a line across the flood zone.

"There's our path," she said. "Tsuyu, take Mineta and go across first. I'll cover from the rear."

"You sure?" Tsuyu asked.

"I'm good," Sumi nodded. "Just don't fall. This construct won't hold long."

Navigating through the flood zone felt like threading a needle underwater.

Sumi moved with methodical precision, using Mineta's sticky balls to create anchors across broken debris or floating wreckage, and crafting slim ink constructs to bridge narrow gaps. She was careful — always careful. Every move measured. Every drip of ink accounted for.

Tsuyu carried Mineta when needed, the three of them forming a makeshift relay team across the half-submerged terrain.

Then they reached it — a massive gap, nearly twenty feet across. Too far for Mineta to jump. Risky even for Tsuyu without solid landing.

Sumi narrowed her eyes, already reaching for more ink.

"Hold on," she said, forming a brace of tendrils to start weaving a bridge. But her control flickered.

The ink pulsed. Not her doing.

Suddenly, a dense blast of ink launched from her back, wrapping around the far end of the platform ahead — and then snapped backward.

The force yanked all three of them across in a sudden lurch — like a slingshot.

Sumi landed hard, tumbling into a crouch, breath caught in her throat.

Tsuyu rolled out with practiced grace. Mineta screamed the whole way and landed like a sack of potatoes.

"W-What the hell was that?!" he yelled, limbs shaking.

"I was about to ask," Tsuyu said, glancing at Sumi.

Sumi blinked, staring at her hands — where the ink had already begun to retreat back into her skin.

"That... wasn't me," she muttered.

Before she could process more, voices called out nearby — classmates, regrouping.

They had made it.

But Sumi wasn't thinking about the reunion.

She was still staring at the ink that had chosen for her.