Nemuri Kayama's phrase, "what an unexpected coincidence," hung in the crisp air of the office, heavy with the weight of a thousand unasked questions. Her smile was a work of art, a perfect mask of professional courtesy that failed to hide the storm of confusion and suspicion swirling in her violet eyes.
Izuku, unlike most who would have shrunk under that intense gaze, simply tilted his head with genuine curiosity. There was no fear in his expression, only the interest of someone watching a chess match suddenly become much more interesting.
"Midnight-san," he said, with a tone of polite recognition. "I didn't expect to see you. Principal Nezu and I were just discussing a potential educational collaboration. It's very exciting."
His enthusiasm was so sincere and so out of place that Nemuri blinked, momentarily thrown off.
Principal Nezu, who had been observing the interaction with the delight of a gourmand about to try an exotic new dish, steepled his paws.
"Ah, Midnight! Just in time," he said, his cheerful voice cutting through the tension. "You've arrived for the most interesting part. Mr. Midoriya has been kind enough to offer us a demonstration of his… peculiar pedagogical talents."
Nemuri composed herself, her professionalism taking over, though her eyes never left Izuku. She approached the desk, her hero costume whispering softly against the plush carpet.
"Principal, with all due respect," she began, her voice melodic but firm, "I just heard 'educational collaboration' and the name of Mt. Lady's assistant in the same sentence. And, while I admire the young man's enthusiasm, the idea of allowing an unlicensed civilian with an unverified Quirk to participate in any of our programs is…"
"A logistical, legal, and insurance nightmare waiting to happen," Nezu finished, with a cheerful smile. "Yes, I know. Your objections are perfectly reasonable, predictable, and, as always, impeccably logical. Which is why his initial plan was so delightfully problematic."
Nemuri stared at him. "His initial plan?"
"Mr. Midoriya proposed a large-scale test during the entrance exam. A field experiment, so to speak. Hundreds of test subjects. Gloriously chaotic!" Nezu explained, his eyes gleaming.
Nemuri paled slightly. The thought of Izuku loose among hundreds of teenagers with unstable Quirks was the stuff of lawyers' nightmares.
"But," Nezu continued, raising a paw to reassure her, "your arrival has reminded me of the importance of prudence. So, I have refined the proposal into something much more… elegant. A single case study."
He leaned back in his chair, now the school principal in complete control of the situation.
"When the list of applicants for the next entrance exam is finalized, Mr. Midoriya will be given access to the profiles. He will choose a single candidate—the one he believes he can 'improve' the most. He will have the weeks leading up to the exam to train that student, and you, Midnight, as a first-year teacher and the hero who has so conveniently appeared, will be his official supervisor. Every session, every method, will be under your watchful eye."
Nemuri processed the information, her mind racing. It wasn't the madness she had imagined, but it was still an enormous risk.
"The test is simple," Nezu concluded. "If Mr. Midoriya's chosen student passes the exam, he passes. If the student fails, we thank him for his time and our fascinating partnership ends. If he succeeds, we will offer him a provisional position as a support teaching assistant, where we can continue to study his… potential."
Silence fell over the office. It was an impossible offer, an opportunity born from a fever dream. The full weight of the decision fell on Izuku. Nezu and Nemuri watched him, waiting for his answer.
Izuku didn't hesitate. There wasn't a trace of doubt on his face. To him, it wasn't a risk; it was a challenge. A goal.
"That's an excellent testing protocol, Principal," he said, his voice clear and filled with a quiet confidence. "A clear objective with a measurable outcome. I accept."
Nemuri released a breath she didn't know she was holding. It was official. She was trapped in this strange boy's orbit.
"Marvelous!" Nezu exclaimed, clapping softly. "Then it's settled. The list won't be ready for a few weeks, we'll let you know. In the meantime, I repeat my request, Midnight. A tour of the facilities for our instructor candidate would be most prudent."
With a dismissive wave, Nezu turned back to his screen, signaling that the audience was over.
The heavy wooden door closed behind them, and the silence of the U.A. hallway felt completely different from that of the office. Nemuri walked a few steps, then stopped and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. She looked him up and down, her expression now a mixture of disbelief and an almost tangible curiosity.
"Alright, clever boy," she said, her voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "You just did the impossible. You won over the rodent with a god complex. Now, you're going to tell me the truth."
Izuku looked at her, tilting his head. "I always tell the truth, Midnight-san. It's more efficient."
She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Don't give me that. I saw your face at the restaurant. The boy who can do that isn't the same one who has a file that reads: 'Notable achievements: 98% success rate in teaching chihuahuas to sit.' So, as we walk, you're going to explain to me how your Quirk really works. Forget the 'potential' talk. Speak plainly. And as your official supervisor, I need to know everything."
She started walking, and he followed, his red sneakers nearly silent on the polished floor.
"I don't know exactly how it works," Izuku admitted, as his eyes drifted to a display case full of old hero costumes. "It's new to me, too. But it's like… like everyone has a latent potential inside them, an internal energy. Most people, even heroes, keep it small, controlled, so they don't overload themselves. My Quirk… I just stir that energy so it burns stronger."
Nemuri listened, weighing his words. It was a simple, almost childish explanation, but there was an intuitive truth to it.
"And your 'first test subject'?" she pressed. "The one with the… 'gluteal epiphany'."
Izuku didn't blush. He considered it seriously. "Ah, yes. She is a fascinating case. Immense power contained by deep insecurity. She demonstrated excellent energy conductivity and a very positive power response, especially… in the hip and gluteal area. Her ability to maintain balance and project force from her core improved markedly after the application."
He said it as naturally as a mechanic would talk about tuning an engine. Nemuri stopped dead and stared at him. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. He was completely unabashed. There wasn't a hint of lewdness in his tone, just a clinical, brutal honesty that was somehow even more disconcerting.
"You're unbelievable," she finally said, shaking her head and resuming her pace. "You really have no filter, do you?"
"Filters reduce communication efficiency," he replied, as if it were obvious. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed to a section of the hallway wall. "Incredible! This is the section that had to be replaced after Thirteen's black hole incident during their first year of teaching. The spatial strain left permanent micro-fissures in the original alloy. Reading about it is one thing, but seeing it…!"
Nemuri sighed. Supervising him was going to be exhausting. And very, very entertaining.
The tour continued that way: a strange mix of a professional interrogation and a sightseeing tour for U.A.'s biggest fan. Izuku pointed out the sites of legendary training battles, recalled obscure anecdotes about the teachers, and generally displayed an encyclopedic and slightly obsessive knowledge of the school. Nemuri, for her part, kept pressing, trying to understand the nature of the boy before her. Slowly, a picture began to form in her mind. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't a manipulator. He was a genuine prodigy with a brilliant and strange mind, completely oblivious to social norms, but with an unshakable conviction in his purpose.
Finally, their journey brought them to one of the most imposing doors in the complex, a massive set of metal gates with a plaque that read "GYM GAMMA."
"And this," Nemuri said, swiping her keycard to open the doors, "is where the magic, or rather, the controlled chaos, happens."
The place was awe-inspiring. An open space as vast as an airplane hangar, silent and cold. The hum of the fluorescent lights in the towering ceiling was the only sound. Cranes, platforms, and all manner of machinery were parked at the edges, a nightmare construction kit for any aspiring hero.
Izuku walked in, his eyes wide. Nemuri let him enjoy the moment before closing the doors behind them, the metallic clang echoing in the silence.
They stopped in the center of the vast space.
"A very educational tour, Midoriya-kun," Nemuri said, her voice now devoid of all mockery. It was purely professional. "You've seen our facilities. You've accepted the principal's proposal. Now for the unofficial part of your evaluation."
Izuku turned to face her, expectant.
"I've heard your explanation. I've heard Nezu.," she said, taking a step toward him. "But words aren't enough. If I'm going to put my reputation on the line supervising your training of one of my future students, I need to understand exactly what you do. I need firsthand data, not anecdotes."
She looked at him intently, her violet eyes shining with an intensity Izuku hadn't seen before.
"So we're going to do a test. Here. Now."
Izuku's heart leaped, not with fear, but with pure, electrifying excitement. This was the real test. The chance to prove his worth to one of the best.
"An excellent idea, Midnight-san!" he said, his enthusiasm genuine. "A controlled test is the next logical step. What variable would you like me to optimize? Explosive strength? Reaction speed? Endurance?"
She smiled. "None of the above. I'm not interested in running faster or hitting harder. My Quirk is my primary weapon. My Quirk, Somnolence. It's an aroma my body emits to put my opponents to sleep. Its effectiveness depends on its concentration."
She looked at him with a clear challenge in her eyes.
"I want you to focus on my Quirk. Not my muscles. I want you to enhance the very manifestation of my power. Make my aroma more… potent. More concentrated."
The proposal fascinated him. It was entirely new territory. His mind raced, not with doubts, but with possibilities. Can I influence the Quirk factor directly? The very biological machinery that produces it? If the body is the engine, the Quirk is the type of fuel it uses. Can I refine the fuel? The idea was revolutionary.
"I've never tried," he admitted, his eyes shining with a feverish light. "But the theory is sound. I want to try."
"Perfect," she said. She adopted a relaxed stance, arms at her sides, completely open and trusting. "I'm all yours, coach. What do you need me to do?"
Izuku moved closer, his mind now completely immersed in the problem. The outside world faded away. There was only him, her, and the scientific question.
"For optimal transfer to your nervous system and the source of your Quirk, a point of contact on the upper back, near the spinal column, should be most efficient," he said, his voice quiet, clinical, yet strangely authoritative. He was no longer the schoolboy; he was the specialist.
He stood behind her and raised his hands. They were steady, without a single tremor.
"Alright, Midnight-sensei," he said, his voice a focused murmur that resonated in the gym's silence. "Inhale deeply and concentrate on the feeling of your Quirk, how it feels right before you release it. I'm going to begin."
His hands descended, about to rest on her shoulder blades. The air seemed to crackle, charged with the promise of an unknown power. For the first time, Izuku wasn't going to enhance the result of a Quirk, but its very source.