Story of a shifter
Glitters, Guts, and the Gilded Cage
The training gym of Class 1-B was usually a symphony of clashing metal and Kendo’s sharp instructions, but today, Camie was staring at a piece of paper as if it were a rare, limited-edition designer clutch. Her eyes, usually half-lidded and dreamy, were wide enough to show the faint shimmer of her Quirk dancing in her pupils.
"No way," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and pure excitement. "This is, like, totally major. The vibes are off the charts."
Hanta, who had snuck over to the 1-B side of the building during a break to share some gossip about Bakugo’s latest meltdown, leaned over her shoulder. "What’s the word, Camie? Did you get a sponsorship for that lip gloss you’re always talking about?"
"Better, Hanta-kun. Much better." She turned the paper around. "I got an invite. A work-study! And not just with anyone. It’s with the Fat Gum Agency. Apparently, that Suneater guy—Tamaki Amajiki, the Big Three hottie with the adorable social anxiety—recommended me."
Hanta whistled, his elbows clicking as he folded his arms. "Fat Gum? That’s a heavy-hitter agency. Kirishima from my class is going there too. It’s all about grit and endurance over there. Are you sure you’re ready for the 'blood and sweat' aesthetic? It’s not exactly 'strawberry mist and selfies'."
Camie tucked the paper into her belt, tossing her hair back. "Excuse me? I can be gritty. I can be, like, the grittiest. Plus, I heard Fat Gum is basically a giant marshmallow who loves snacks. We’re going to be a total mood together."
***
The Fat Gum Agency was located in a bustling, salt-of-the-earth district that smelled perpetually of takoyaki and exhaust fumes. When Camie arrived, she found Kirishima already there, looking like a human spark plug, and Tamaki Amajiki, who was currently trying to merge his forehead with the office wall.
"Oh, hey! You’re the girl from the Sports Festival!" Kirishima beamed, his teeth sharp and bright. "The one who turned into a giant All Might and then a steel guy! That was so manly! I’m Eijiro Kirishima, Class 1-A!"
"Camie Utsushimi, 1-B," she replied, giving him a peace sign. "Your hair is such a bold choice, Eijiro-kun. It’s very 'crimson riot' chic. I’m totally digging the energy."
Fat Gum himself waddled into the room, a mountain of a man with a smile that could light up a city block. "Alright! The gang’s all here! We’ve got the Hardened Hero, the Dream-Weaver, and my protégé who is currently trying to become part of the drywall. Welcome to the team!"
Fat Gum clapped a massive hand on Camie’s shoulder. "Amajiki told me about your Quirk, kid. Shapeshifting and illusions? That’s some high-level utility. We’re doing a patrol tonight in the red-light district. Lots of narrow alleys and shady business. Your eyes will be better than any camera we’ve got."
"I’m on it, Fat-san," Camie said, her playful demeanor shifting into something more professional. "I’ll make sure the streets are looking absolutely flawless."
The patrol was a whirlwind. While Fat Gum and Kirishima provided the muscle, Camie acted as the ultimate infiltrator. When they spotted a group of low-level thugs dealing illegal Quirk-boosting drugs in a back alley, Camie didn't wait for a signal.
"Watch this," she whispered to Tamaki, who was shivering slightly behind her.
She blurred. Her form stretched and shifted, her sleek hero suit melting into the baggy hoodies and worn jeans of a local delinquent. She even changed her gait, slouching her shoulders and adopting a bored, street-wise scowl. She walked right past the thugs, dropping a small, shimmering orb of her Illusion Quirk.
Seconds later, the thugs began shouting. To them, the alley had suddenly filled with a dozen Pro Heroes, including a terrifyingly realistic Endeavor. As they panicked and ran blindly into the main street, Fat Gum was waiting to scoop them up in his literal fat.
"Nice work, Utsushimi!" Fat Gum roared, laughing as he tied the villains up. "That was some top-tier misdirection!"
Tamaki looked at her, his eyes wide. "You... you didn't even hesitate. How do you just... become someone else so easily? I have to eat something just to manifest a claw..."
Camie shifted back to her normal self, checking her reflection in a nearby window. "It’s all about the 'vibe,' Tamaki-kun. You have to feel the person’s energy. It’s like putting on a really high-end costume, but on the inside."
***
The lightheartedness of the patrol, however, was short-lived. The atmosphere at the agency shifted within days as the investigation into the Shie Hassaikai—a Yakuza group led by the terrifying Overhaul—intensified.
The morning of the raid, the air was cold and heavy. Camie stood in the briefing room among a sea of Pro Heroes: Nighteye, Ryukyu, Eraserhead, and her friends from 1-A. She saw Hanta across the room—he wasn't part of the raid, but he had sent her a text earlier: *Don't do anything too crazy. Stay safe.*
She didn't reply. She couldn't. This was the real deal.
As they breached the Shie Hassaikai compound, the world turned into a chaotic maze of shifting walls and narrow corridors. Overhaul’s subordinates were everywhere, using their Quirks to distort the very ground they stood on.
"Utsushimi! Amajiki! Kirishima! With me!" Fat Gum ordered as they dove deeper into the subterranean tunnels.
They were suddenly cut off from the main group by a wall of stone that rose from the floor. Three members of the Eight Expendables stood before them—villains who lived only to die for their boss.
"You heroes are so shiny," one of them hissed, a man with a mask that looked like a plague doctor. "Let’s see how you look when you’re broken."
The fight was brutal. Fat Gum and Kirishima took the brunt of the physical attacks, their bodies becoming shields for the younger heroes. Camie knew she couldn't match the villains in raw power, but she was the wild card.
"Tamaki-kun, cover me!" Camie shouted.
She closed her eyes, focusing on a memory. She needed someone fast, someone who could navigate this cramped space. She thought of the boy she’d known since middle school. She thought of the way he moved, the way his elbows functioned like biological grappling hooks.
Her body rippled. Her skin paled, her hair shortened, and her elbows expanded into the familiar, blocky shapes of Hanta Sero’s tape dispensers.
"Whoa! You’re the tape guy!" Kirishima yelled, even as he blocked a crushing blow.
"I’m everyone!" Camie—in Hanta’s voice—shouted.
She fired a line of high-tensile tape, swinging across the ceiling of the shifting tunnel. She wasn't just using the tape to move; she was weaving it into the air. Simultaneously, she activated her Illusion Quirk, filling the room with a thick, confusing fog of glitter and false images of herself.
The villains swung at the illusions, their fists passing through pink smoke, only to find themselves suddenly bound by very real, very sticky tape.
"What is this?!" one of the villains screamed, struggling against the adhesive. "Where is she?!"
"I'm right here, bestie," Camie whispered.
She shifted again. This time, she didn't take a human form. She focused on the sheer concept of 'intimidation.' She didn't have to become a person to use an illusion. She projected a massive, shadowy beast onto the walls of the tunnel, its roar vibrating in the villains' chests.
As they recoiled in terror, Tamaki Amajiki seized the moment. His arm transformed into a massive, shimmering kraken tentacle, sweeping the villains off their feet and slamming them into the stone walls.
"Target... neutralized," Tamaki panted, leaning against the wall.
Camie shifted back to her original form, her breathing ragged. Her skin felt tight, a sign that she was pushing her shapeshifting limits. "That was... like, a total workout. My pores are definitely clogged now."
Fat Gum looked at her, his eyes filled with respect. "You held the line, kid. That tape trick saved us a lot of bruises."
But the raid wasn't over. They pushed forward, reaching the heart of the compound just as the battle between Overhaul and Midoriya reached its fever pitch. The ground shook with the force of 100% One For All. Camie watched from the periphery, her illusions helping to guide the wounded and the non-combatants out of the crumbling ruins.
She saw the look on Midoriya’s face—the raw, agonizing determination. She saw the small girl, Eri, trembling in his arms. It was a side of hero work she hadn't truly grasped until that moment. It wasn't just about looking iconic or having a 'vibe.' It was about being the only thing standing between a child and a nightmare.
***
Days later, the dust had settled. The Shie Hassaikai were in custody, but the cost had been high. Sir Nighteye was gone, and the heroes were left to pick up the pieces.
Camie sat on the steps of the U.A. infirmary, her arm in a light sling. She was staring at her phone, but she wasn't scrolling through social media. She was looking at a photo she’d taken with Fat Gum, Kirishima, and a very reluctant Tamaki right before the raid.
"Hey."
She looked up to see Hanta standing there. He looked worried, his usual laid-back grin nowhere to be found. He sat down next to her, handing her a strawberry-flavored soda.
"I saw the news," Hanta said softly. "You were right in the middle of it."
Camie took the soda, the cold condensation feeling good against her palm. "It was... a lot, Hanta-kun. Like, way more than a zero-star experience. It was a negative-ten-star experience."
Hanta looked at her sling. "Kirishima told me what you did. He said you turned into me to tie up those villains. Said you were 'super manly' about it."
Camie let out a small, tired laugh. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't have a mirror, so I might have made your nose a little too big. Artistic license, you know?"
Hanta chuckled, bumping his shoulder against hers. "As long as you kept the elbows looking good, we’re cool. But seriously, Camie... I was worried. When the news started showing the compound collapsing, I realized I don't know what I’d do if my bestie wasn't around to roast my fashion choices."
Camie leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. The trauma of the raid was still there, a heavy weight in the back of her mind, but the warmth of Hanta’s presence helped dull the edges.
"Don't worry," she murmured. "I’m way too iconic to go out like that. Besides, I still have to show you that new crepe place. And I’m definitely making you pay for it after I saved the world and everything."
"You only saved a small part of it," Hanta teased, though he reached over and squeezed her hand.
"The most important part," Camie corrected him, her voice drifting off into sleep. "The aesthetic part."
Hanta sat with her in the quiet afternoon sun, watching the other students go about their lives. He knew the world was getting darker, and the villains were getting stronger. But as he looked at Camie, he felt a flicker of hope. As long as they had each other, as long as they could turn a nightmare into a dream—even a strawberry-scented one—they would be okay.
"Yeah," Hanta whispered to the empty air. "The most important part."