The admiration on Yu Takeyama's face was plain to see, a clear reflection of the astonishment vibrating through the room. Beside her, Nemuri Kayama smiled, a curve of satisfaction on her lips, as if she had just witnessed the boldest move in a high-stakes game. But it was Detective Tsukauchi who broke the spell. He took a deliberate step forward, his body positioning itself as a barrier of pure logic and procedure. His expression, usually a canvas of impassive professionalism, was tinged with deep and genuine concern.
"Principal, with all due respect," Tsukauchi began, his voice injecting a dose of reality into a room that had strayed into the extraordinary. "This is highly irregular. Exceptionally irregular."
His gaze briefly fell on Inko Midoriya, not with hostility, but with the calculated assessment of a law enforcement officer weighing an incalculable risk factor.
"Midoriya-san is a civilian. She holds no hero license, no formal field training, nor the psychological preparation to face what these kids have faced. To allow her to participate in a high-risk operation—and what's more, to encourage her to use her Quirk in a potential combat scenario… Principal, this isn't just a legal risk; it's an invitation to a catastrophe, both legally and in terms of security. We cannot, under any circumstances, authorize this."
Nezu's smile didn't waver. In fact, it seemed to widen, a small gesture that revealed his anticipation. It was as if the principal had not only expected this objection but had needed it for his plan to unfold perfectly.
"An excellent point, Detective. Entirely predictable and, I must add, absolutely correct from the perspective of standard law," Nezu replied with a calmness that bordered on infuriating. "And that is precisely why I have already solved it."
He moved a small paw, swiveling his leather chair a few degrees.
"Under the authority granted to me by the U.A. Emergency Powers Act, section 7, paragraph 3, subsection B, which addresses the 'mobilization of civilian assets with unique abilities in situations of direct threat to the institution,' I hereby grant Midoriya Inko-san a provisional special escort license, effective immediately."
Tsukauchi blinked. Once. Twice. His mind, trained to process facts and follow protocols, seemed to jam in the face of the maneuver's audacity.
"A provisional license?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "Principal, those statutes are for trained paramedics, for Quirk deactivation specialists, or, in extreme circumstances, for heroes-in-training under direct supervision. She has no formal combat experience. The risk to her is incalculable. The risk to the students she is supposed to protect is even greater. What kind of precedent does this set? Can any concerned parent now demand a spot on the front lines?"
The room fell silent, waiting for Nezu's response. It was then that the atmosphere shifted. The principal's smile vanished completely. It didn't become a frown or an expression of anger, but something far more unsettling: an absolute void. His beady black eyes fixed on the detective, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree.
"Do not mistake a lack of a license for a lack of capability, Detective," Nezu said, his voice becoming cold and sharp. "And certainly do not mistake motherly concern for weakness. Midoriya-san is not as fragile as you assume."
The statement hung in the air, heavy with hidden meaning. All Might, in his skeletal form, shifted uncomfortably. He knew exactly what Nezu was referring to, and the idea of that secret now being in play sent a deep fear through him.
Tsukauchi frowned, his police instinct screaming that he was missing a fundamental piece of the puzzle.
"What do you mean by that, Principal? What information are you withholding from me?"
Nezu turned his back to him, an elegant and definitive gesture that clearly ended the discussion.
"That, Detective, is classified U.A. institutional information, clearance level Alpha. And you, with all due respect, do not possess such a clearance level. Now, if the legalities are, as I've said, resolved, we have the pressing matter of logistics ahead of us."
The principal turned to his number-one hero.
"All Might, you and I need to review every detail of the training camp. Every route, every supplier, every instructor. We will leave no stone unturned."
The order was concise, leaving everyone to process the dizzying cascade of decisions. Inko Midoriya remained standing, her posture still tense from the challenge she had issued minutes earlier. She was slowly absorbing the fact that her ultimatum had not only been accepted but had been celebrated and made law by an enigmatic creature in a necktie. She looked at her son. Izuku's green eyes, so much like her own, watched her with an overwhelming mix of shock, awe, and a pride so deep and pure it almost made her falter. For an instant, she wasn't a "guardian" with a makeshift license; she was just a mother seeing in her son's eyes the validation that she had done the right thing.
It was Yu Takeyama who broke the spell. She approached Inko, her towering height softened by a smile of genuine admiration.
"Midoriya-san," she said, her voice rumbling softly, "I'm not sure if you just signed a contract, declared war on bureaucratic stupidity, or both. Whatever it was, I want a framed copy for my office. That's the most brilliant thing I've seen in years."
Nemuri Kayama let out a throaty, satisfied laugh, moving closer to the group as well.
"I've always said the most terrifying and effective logic on the planet belongs to an angry mother. It's a pleasure to have you aboard, officially. Welcome to the madhouse, Inko-san."
Inko, overwhelmed, could only offer a small, trembling smile.
"I… I just want them to be safe."
"And now you have the authority to make sure of it," Yu concluded, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"This changes things," Detective Tsukauchi said, putting away his notebook with a sigh of resignation. His gaze toward Inko was no longer that of an officer questioning a civilian, but that of a soldier acknowledging a new and formidable ally on the battlefield. "But my immediate concern remains, and is even magnified. Your safety. And that of the students."
Nezu hopped off his chair with an agility that belied his size and landed softly on the floor, his small feet making an almost imperceptible sound on the polished marble.
"Exactly, Detective. And this is where the situation gets complicated. We have confirmed a leak at U.A."
The statement cast a chill over the room. The students' faces tensed.
"A leak?" Tsukauchi asked, his voice strained and formal. "You mean… a traitor?"
"The word is ugly, but the possibility is real," Nezu confirmed, not sugarcoating the truth. "The information about the USJ attack, the location in Hosu during the Nomu incident, and now the attack at the mall. There's a pattern. Someone with access to our intelligence is passing information to the enemy."
Ochako brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. Momo frowned, her analytical mind already working through the implications. Izuku clenched his fists at his sides.
"Therefore," Nezu continued, walking slowly in front of them, "keeping you in the dorms would be tactically unwise. It's the first place the enemy would expect you to be. It would be like painting a target on your backs."
All Might cleared his throat, his skeletal form seeming to shrink even further under the weight of the situation. Guilt was a constant shadow in his eyes.
"So? Where will they go? We can't just send them home. Their homes would be the next logical targets."
"No," Yu interjected, her tone shifting from camaraderie to a steely, professional seriousness. "Of course we won't. They were attacked while under my care. They are still my responsibility. And I don't leave my responsibilities half-finished."
She crossed her arms, her imposing figure radiating an unshakeable authority. Her gaze fixed on Nezu, not as a subordinate, but as an equal proposing a solution.
"Principal, I have a place."
Nezu tilted his head, inviting her to continue.
"It's not a Commission safe house, which could be compromised. It's not a U.A. facility, which clearly has a leak. It's my personal property. Completely secure. Private. Off the radar of U.A. and any potential moles. My penthouse in the city center."
She paused, letting the offer settle.
"No one gets in or out without my biometric authorization and an access code that changes every six hours. The walls are reinforced with a titanium alloy, and the windows are explosion-proof polymer. It has its own air filtration system and an encrypted communication line completely independent of public and hero networks. It's a fortress. They'll all go there. Right now."
The offer hung in the air. It wasn't a suggestion; it was a declaration of intent, an order wrapped in professional courtesy. The students stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Your… your home?" Ochako stammered, her mind trying to process the scale of the generosity and the speed of events. The hero she admired in magazines wasn't just protecting them; she was offering them her personal sanctuary.
Yu gave her a reassuring half-smile.
"It's not a house, it's an eagle's nest with room service and an incredible view. And tonight, and until we leave for the camp, it's your bunker."
Her gaze returned to Nezu, defiant and confident.
"Any objections, Principal?"
The principal gave her a look of pure and absolute approval. A small smile returned to his lips.
"An excellent solution, Mt. Lady. Flawless. It isolates the targets, places them in an environment controlled by one of our most trustworthy assets, and buys us the time and space we need to purge our network and reinforce the camp's security without having to worry about their whereabouts every second."
He turned back to the youths, his expression growing serious once more.
"Good," Nezu said. "Kenji will take you."
The transition was a surreal blur, a scene change so abrupt it was dizzying. One moment they were in the stark, tense U.A. conference room, processing a complete reorganization of their lives, and the next, they were descending in the silent, padded private elevator, its barely audible hum breaking the tense silence.
Kenji stopped in front of a black van. It wasn't an ostentatious limousine, but a functional, anonymous vehicle that nevertheless projected a sense of quiet power. The windows were so heavily tinted they looked like slabs of polished obsidian. There were no logos, no frills; only the promise of safe, discreet transport.
"This way, please," Kenji said, his voice a calm, professional baritone. With a click of a remote, the side door slid back noiselessly, revealing a spacious and luxurious interior that contrasted with the utilitarian exterior.
Yu Takeyama paused before getting in, turning to face the group of teenagers and the woman who had suddenly become her colleague.
"Listen," she said, her tone low and serious. "I know this is a lot to process. Your heads must be spinning. But right now, the only thing you need to do is follow instructions. Get in the vehicle. We won't talk about anything important until we're inside the penthouse. Got it?"
Everyone nodded in silence. Inko was the first to move, taking Izuku's hand for an instant—a quick, reassuring gesture—before climbing in.
As the door slid shut, plunging them into a silent, secure twilight, the outside world—with its leaks, its villains, and its broken rules—seemed to fade away. For now, they were in transit, suspended between the known danger and the promised safety of a sanctuary of steel and glass in the sky.