The day ended without ceremony.
No alarms. No heroic declarations. Just the final bell echoing through U.A.'s halls and the slow, tired exhale of a school returning to normalcy.
Ren left with the others this time.
He had reached U.A.
He had entered Class 1-A.
He had access to training, structure, and people who would grow faster than anywhere else in the country.
But convenience wasn't the same as efficiency.
And efficiency—real efficiency—was what he needed now.
as he walked back toward the administrative building, footsteps steady, mind clear.
This wasn't impulse.
This was alignment.
Nezu was waiting.
Not literally—he never waited—but when Ren entered the office, the principal looked up as if he had been expecting him at that exact moment.
"Good evening," Nezu said pleasantly. "I trust your classes went smoothly?"
"They did," Ren replied. "That's why I came now."
Nezu gestured to the chair.
"After a normal day," he said approvingly. "That's usually when people decide what they actually want."
Ren sat.
Nezu folded his paws atop the desk, posture relaxed but attentive.
"You mentioned earlier that you wanted to revise your Quirk assessment," Nezu said. "And you hinted at… unconventional training environments."
"I did," Ren said. "And I want to be clear today."
Nezu smiled faintly.
"Please do."
Ren didn't hesitate.
"My Quirk allows me to absorb, store, and manipulate a form of energy generated by strong negative emotional states," he said evenly. "Fear. Hatred. Despair. Hostility."
Nezu didn't react.
"This energy reinforces my body, sharpens output, and can be shaped into physical effects—cutting force, projection, and limited environmental interaction."
"Limited," Nezu echoed.
"Yes," Ren said. "Because my current bottleneck isn't technique. It's supply."
Nezu's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Explain."
"My absorption range is approximately 50 meters," Ren said. "Passive. I don't need focus to collect it, but the density drops sharply outside that radius."
Nezu nodded.
"And that range has increased."
"Yes," Ren replied. "Gradually. Exposure/accumulation of negative energy accelerates it."
Nezu leaned back.
"So peaceful environments starve your growth."
"Not starve," Ren corrected. "Slow it to a crawl."
Nezu chuckled softly.
"Society would consider that a feature."
"I agree," Ren said. "Which is why I'm asking for supervision."
That earned Nezu's full attention.
Ren leaned forward slightly.
"My energy can be converted into elemental effects," he continued. "Cold. Heat. Kinetic pressure. But conversion is inefficient."
"How inefficient?" Nezu asked.
"Wasteful," Ren said plainly. "70 percent loss if I force it. More if I rush."
Nezu's ears twitched.
"So why pursue it?"
"Because once refined," Ren said, "it becomes versatility." the main problem is i do not have enough energy to stably train the elemental conversion and train it till now as i always need to keep backup reserves for future .
He met Nezu's gaze.
"Raw power scales naturally with energy volume. Control doesn't."
Nezu smiled slowly.
"You want to master the shape
"Yes."
Ren continued, voice steady.
"All Might's strength is overwhelming force. Endeavor's is focused application. My Quirk allows for both—if I remove the constraint of constant rationing."
Nezu's tail flicked once.
"You're suggesting a theoretical ceiling comparable to both combined ."
"Potentially," Ren said. "Not guaranteed. But reachable."
Silence settled.
Then Nezu spoke.
"And the cost?"
Ren didn't dodge it.
"Exposure to high-density negativity," he said.
"Prisons," Nezu said.
"Yes," Ren replied. "Facilities where that energy already exists and isn't diminishing."
Nezu watched him carefully.
"You understand how that sounds."
"I do," Ren said. "Which is why I'm telling you directly."
He paused, then added,
"I don't see villains as people to exploit. I see them as unavoidable constants. Right now, they cost society resources while being isolated from consequence beyond containment."
Nezu tilted his head.
"And you propose… efficiency."
"Yes," Ren said. "If my growth accelerates, I reduce future damage. That's a net gain."
Nezu drummed his claws lightly on the desk.
"And what about housing?" he asked suddenly.
Ren blinked once, then nodded.
"Yes," he said. "That too."
Nezu gestured for him to continue.
"I want to stay on campus," Ren said. "If dormitories aren't available, then a spare classroom or unused facility could be converted. Minimal space. I don't need comfort—just proximity."
Nezu raised a brow.
"Convenience?"
"And safety," Ren added. Nezu smiled knowingly.
"Nezu leaned back, thoughtful.
"You're asking for three things," he said. "Housing. Revised Quirk documentation. And exposure to Tartarus-level environments."
Ren nodded.
"All under supervision."
Nezu was quiet for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
Softly. Delightedly.
"You're not ruthless," Nezu said. "You're efficient. That's far more dangerous."
Ren accepted that without comment.
"Very well," Nezu said. "Here's what I'll allow."
Ren's attention sharpened.
"First," Nezu said, "temporary on-campus accommodation. There are unused facilities. We'll convert one."
Ren bowed his head slightly.
"Second," Nezu continued, "your Quirk assessment will be rewritten. Fully classified. Restricted access."
"Understood."
"And third," Nezu said, eyes gleaming, "bi-weekly exposure visits to Tartarus."
Ren didn't breathe.
"Three to six hours per visit," Nezu said. "Depending on schedule. You will be accompanied by a Pro Hero at all times. No direct inmate interaction. Ren nodded immediately.
"Agreed."
Nezu smiled wide.
"If at any point you lose perspective," he added calmly, "this ends."
"I know."
Nezu stood.
"Then let us see," he said, "how far you can go."