Hello!! I'm not claiming this as my work. It's AI generated as I have no writing skills. I only draw stuff but I've had an idea for so long but couldn't write it on my own- I'd love to see people taking this idea and using it in their stories :33 I have been playing Zenless Zone Zero and what if there was thirens in the BNHA universe? I made (y/n) have natural abilities and that thirens were rare in this AU. (Y/N) is a bastard child between endeavor and a random strong thiren mother. This story is gender neutral! Anyway heres the summary of this AI generated story>
(Y/N) spent their whole life trying to stay invisible, but when their hidden Quirk erupts at the U.A. Sports Festival, there’s nowhere left to hide. Now suspended and forced into Quirk training under Endeavor’s watch, they must finally face the power they’ve feared for so long—or risk losing control forever.
Sport Festival—A Secret Unleashed
(Y/N) never wanted to stand out. They had spent their entire life hiding, blending into the background, making themselves small. It was easier that way. It was safer.
The moment he touched them, his smug smirk stretching wide as he activated his Quirk, (Y/N) knew something was wrong. He thought he had copied their agility, their precision—things everyone assumed were their Quirk. But they weren’t. They were just… them.
What he did copy, though—
Brilliant, untamed, and hungry, they erupted from his hands in a violent blue inferno. The heat was suffocating. The air cracked around him. He staggered back, confusion flickering in his wide, terrified eyes before pain overtook him.
The fire consumed his arms instantly. Unlike (Y/N), his body wasn’t immune. His screams echoed through the stadium, raw and agonized, as his own power turned against him.
Their breath hitched. Their limbs locked. They couldn’t move.
The crowd wasn’t cheering. They were silent. Stunned. Horrified.
Monoma collapsed to his knees, desperately trying to put out the flames, but they wouldn’t stop. The smell of burning flesh curled in the air, sharp and nauseating, and something in (Y/N)’s stomach twisted so violently they thought they might be sick.
Not by skill. Not by strategy. But by accident.
Their secret—the thing they had buried, ignored, refused to acknowledge—was out.
The realization hit them in waves, slamming into their chest over and over. They barely heard Present Mic’s panicked shouting, barely saw the pro heroes rushing in, barely noticed the way the entire stadium was now staring at them.
He was standing, hands clenched into fists at his sides, eyes locked onto them with an expression they had never seen before. Shock. Realization. Something else—something unreadable.
Because that fire wasn’t just fire. It was his. Stronger. Wilder. Hotter.
(Y/N) swallowed hard, their hands trembling at their sides.
They never wanted this. Never wanted them to see.
Everyone's thoughts regarding this incident>
For the first time in years, he is completely speechless.
Those flames—his flames—were stronger than his own. That deep blue, raging hotter than anything he could produce, was something he never imagined (Y/N) possessed. And yet, there it was, burning uncontrollably in front of thousands.
He had suspected (Y/N) had a Quirk, but (Y/N) never trained, never showed it. Did (Y/N) know? Did they hide it from him on purpose?
His fists clenched as he stared at (Y/N)’s frozen form. (Y/N) looked horrified by what had happened.
And (Y/N) had just revealed to the world that (Y/N) was more powerful than even him.
Shoto's breath caught in his throat.
For so long, he thought he was the only one left with fire in their bloodline. Toya had been the exception, and he had died for it. But now—(Y/N).
Had (Y/N) been hiding this? Did (Y/N) know how strong (Y/N) was?
His hands curled into fists. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Resentment? Jealousy? Shock? Or was it something worse—guilt? Had he spent so much time treating (Y/N) like an intruder that he failed to see the burden (Y/N) was carrying?
For the first time, he saw (Y/N) not as an annoyance or a reminder of his father—but as something else.
That was all Bakugo could say as he watched Monoma writhe in agony, (Y/N) standing there like a ghost, completely frozen.
This whole time, (Y/N) had been hiding that?
His jaw clenched, his heart pounding. That wasn’t just some weak-ass fire Quirk. That was power. That was destruction.
And the look on (Y/N)’s face—like (Y/N) was about to be sick—
Why? Why the hell was (Y/N) scared?
Did (Y/N) seriously not know (Y/N) had that kind of firepower? Or did (Y/N) know and choose to hide it?
Either way, Bakugo wasn’t sure what pissed him off more.
Izuku’s brain was moving a mile a minute.
(Y/N) had never shown signs of a fire-based Quirk. There had never been any reports of (Y/N) using flames before. And yet—those weren’t just flames.
They were Endeavor’s. No—stronger than Endeavor’s.
His grip tightened on his notebook as he stared at (Y/N), taking in every detail—the way (Y/N)’s hands shook, the way (Y/N)’s breath came too fast, the way (Y/N)’s face had gone pale as if (Y/N) was the one who had been burned.
(Y/N) hadn’t wanted this. (Y/N) hadn’t wanted any of this.
This wasn’t just a fight. This was something else. Something deep. Something painful.
And Izuku couldn’t help but wonder— Just how much had (Y/N) been hiding?
He had always kept an eye on (Y/N). (Y/N) was quiet, avoided conflict, kept to (Y/N)’s self. He thought he had (Y/N) figured out.
(Y/N) had been hiding something—something massive.
His hands gripped the capture weapon around his shoulders. The way (Y/N) stood, locked in place, staring at Monoma’s burns in horror—
This wasn’t a student reveling in victory. This was a student on the edge of breaking.
And that made (Y/N) dangerous.
Toshinori’s fingers tightened into his palm as he stared at the scene before him.
(Y/N)’s flames weren’t just powerful. They were devastating.
And (Y/N) was afraid of them.
(Y/N) looked like a child who had just been caught holding a lit match, realizing too late that (Y/N) had set an entire forest ablaze.
How long had (Y/N) been carrying this? How long had (Y/N) been alone in this?
This wasn’t just another revelation of a powerful Quirk. This was a wound. And it had just been exposed for the whole world to see.
Toshinori swallowed hard.
(Y/N) was about to face a storm. And from the look on (Y/N)’s face…
The silence that followed was deafening.
Even as the medics rushed Monoma off the field, the smell of burnt flesh still lingered. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, voices overlapping with confusion, shock, and something else—fear.
(Y/N) could feel their eyes on them.
Their hands shook at their sides. Their breath came in short, uneven bursts.
They hadn’t meant for this to happen.
They never meant for this to happen.
Their head snapped toward the pro heroes gathered on the sidelines. Aizawa’s gaze was sharp, unreadable. All Might looked tense, his lips pressed into a tight line. Midnight was whispering something to Present Mic, who kept glancing at them like they might explode at any moment.
His eyes were locked onto them, burning just as fiercely as the flames they had unknowingly unleashed. He looked…shocked. Impressed. But also—confused. Like he couldn’t understand how they had made it this far without ever using their flames.
What mattered was that Monoma could have died.
Their stomach twisted, a sickening feeling rising in their throat. They clenched their fists, nails digging into their palms as they forced their voice out—barely above a whisper.
“(Y/N).” Aizawa’s voice cut through the noise like a blade. Calm. Firm. Unrelenting. “We need to talk.”
“I didn’t mean to,” they blurted, their voice shaking. “I never— I didn’t know he would—” They swallowed hard, their pulse hammering in their ears. “I never wanted this.”
Their vision blurred at the edges. They needed air. They needed to leave.
They barely heard the shouts behind them as they tore through the hallways, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Their legs moved on instinct—fast, precise, in ways that had nothing to do with a Quirk and everything to do with them.
They didn’t stop until they found themselves outside the stadium, away from the noise, away from the stares.
Back in the stadium, Endeavor stood rigid, still staring at the spot where (Y/N) had been moments ago.
They had never used their flames before.
That much was clear now. The way they reacted—the horror in their eyes, the way they didn’t even try to control them—(Y/N) had never trained. Never even acknowledged them.
And yet, they had come this far.
Their agility, their precision—it was natural. Something not even a Quirk. And everyone had mistaken it for one.
He let out a slow exhale, realization hitting him harder than he expected.
They had been holding back this entire time.
Shoto, standing nearby, was equally stunned. He had spent his whole life training, honing his skills, using his Quirk. And yet, (Y/N)—someone who had never used their full strength—had fought on their level.
Bakugo scoffed, arms crossed. “Tch. No wonder they’re such a pain in the ass.”
Midoriya, still scribbling furiously in his notebook, muttered under his breath. “How…how is that possible? If Thirens have natural abilities like agility and precision, then that means they’ve been competing with students who use their Quirks—without using theirs.” His eyes darted up, bright with realization. “They’ve been holding back this entire time.”
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s not the issue right now.”
Because the real problem?
(Y/N) curled into themself, arms wrapped around their knees as they sat in the dimly lit classroom. Their breathing was still uneven, hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline crash.
Not just from the stadium. Not just from the heroes.
The flames—those awful, cursed flames—had finally revealed themselves, and now, there was nowhere left to hide.
They stiffened instantly, heart lurching, but they didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
His presence was always quiet, yet somehow suffocating when he wanted it to be.
“You’re coming with me,” he said, voice unreadable.
“I—” their voice cracked. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“I know.” His tone wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t comforting either. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it did.”
They swallowed the lump in their throat. They had no excuses. No arguments.
Slowly, they stood, limbs feeling heavier than ever.
And without another word, they followed him.
The air in the principal’s office was suffocating.
(Y/N) sat stiffly in the chair, head bowed, avoiding their eyes. Across from them, the weight of their stares felt unbearable.
Aizawa. Vlad King. All Might. Endeavor.
All of them watching. Judging.
Principal Nezu sat on his desk, tail flicking slightly, but his usual playful demeanor was absent. His small black eyes locked onto (Y/N) with an unsettling sharpness.
Vlad’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and full of barely restrained anger. “Do you even understand that? Monoma could have died because of your flames, (Y/N).”
“I know,” they whispered, barely able to keep their voice steady.
“Then why,” All Might’s voice, calm but firm, filled the room, “did you never tell anyone about your Quirk?”
“I—” (Y/N) hesitated. Their fingers dug into their sleeves.
They had a thousand reasons.
They were scared. They didn’t want to be like him. They didn’t want to train, didn’t want to acknowledge that part of themself. They had spent years pretending it didn’t exist, hoping it would just go away.
But none of those excuses mattered now.
They gritted their teeth. “I never wanted to use it.”
A heavy silence followed.
Endeavor hadn’t spoken once.
“You went your entire life without using your flames?” His deep voice was quieter than usual, laced with something (Y/N) didn’t recognize.
They glanced up, just for a second, and saw something in his eyes that made their chest tighten.
For not noticing. For not training them. For not realizing that they had been suppressing something so powerful.
Endeavor had spent years pushing Shoto to use his flames. But with (Y/N), he had done nothing.
And now, they had no control over them at all.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you kept it hidden,” Vlad snapped, dragging the conversation back to the real issue. “That was reckless, (Y/N). If Monoma’s injuries had been any worse, we’d be dealing with something a lot more serious right now.”
(Y/N) lowered their gaze again, shame curling in their stomach.
“I’m sorry,” they whispered. “I never meant for this to happen.”
Nezu finally spoke, his voice eerily calm. “Intentions mean little in situations like this, (Y/N).” His small hands folded together. “You may not have meant to harm him, but you did. And more importantly, you put yourself and others at risk by not disclosing the full extent of your abilities.”
(Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut.
They were in trouble. They knew that.
But worse than the punishment was the weight of everything. The weight of Monoma’s screams. The weight of everyone staring at them like they were some kind of monster.
The weight of him looking at them like that.
“Effective immediately,” Nezu continued, “you are banned from participating in any more of the Sports Festival. Furthermore, you will be required to undergo supervised Quirk training to ensure this does not happen again.”
“Training?” they repeated weakly.
“Yes,” Aizawa confirmed, arms crossed. “You clearly don’t have control over your flames, and that makes you dangerous—to yourself and to others.”
A lump formed in their throat.
They had spent years keeping their distance from their Quirk. They had avoided it for so long.
And now, they were going to force them to face it.
They barely noticed the way Endeavor was still staring at them, his gaze heavy with something he wasn’t saying.
For the first time, he was realizing—
They hadn’t just been avoiding him.
They had been avoiding themself.
The silence in the car was unbearable.
(Y/N) sat in the passenger seat, hands clenched in their lap, staring out the window. The city lights blurred as they passed, but they weren’t really seeing them.
Their mind was still back at the stadium.
Still hearing Monoma’s screams.
They swallowed the lump in their throat. How bad were his burns? Would he be okay?
They had been too much of a coward to ask.
Now they were suspended for the rest of the week. Not expelled, not permanently banned—just suspended. That was their punishment for nearly killing a classmate.
Their fingers dug into their sleeves.
“…You haven’t said a word since we left,” Endeavor’s deep voice broke the silence.
(Y/N) stiffened slightly but didn’t look at him.
“…What’s there to say?” they mumbled.
Another silence. But this one was heavier.
Endeavor’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his expression unreadable. “You’re not going to ask about your punishment?”
They shook their head. “Already know it.”
Their voice was flat. Emotionless.
But inside? They were crumbling.
Endeavor exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching. “You should have told someone.”
(Y/N) finally turned their head, their gaze dull. “And what would you have done?”
His hands tensed on the wheel. He didn’t answer immediately.
That was what they thought.
(Y/N) turned back to the window. The streets of Musutafu were quiet this late at night, but their thoughts were anything but.
“I never wanted to use them,” they whispered, barely audible.
Endeavor’s fingers flexed, his flames flickering faintly at his wrists before dying out. “I know.”
They frowned, caught off guard by the quiet way he said it.
For a moment, the tension shifted. Not gone—but different.
Their voice was small, almost fragile.
Endeavor was silent for a beat before answering. “He’s being treated. The burns were serious but not fatal. Recovery Girl is doing everything she can.”
Their grip on their sleeves tightened.
Their throat burned, but they didn’t cry. They just nodded stiffly, eyes glued to the window.
This one lasted the rest of the ride home.
