Principal Nezu was a small mammal in a large chair, and Rei had never been more intimidated in her life.
"Kazuki Rei," Nezu said, his beady eyes unreadable. "Formerly of Shiketsu High. Expelled, technically, though they called it a 'voluntary transfer.'"
Rei's hands clenched. "I—"
"Discharged your Quirk in a manner that destroyed three training buildings and put seventeen students in the hospital. Including," a pointed look at Midoriya, "the one who tried to save you from yourself."
"It wasn't her fault," Midoriya said immediately. "The simulation was designed to—"
"Be quiet, young Midoriya." Nezu's voice was gentle but absolute. "I am speaking to Rei."
Silence stretched. Rei felt her Quirk stirring, responding to her anxiety. The chair beneath her rattled slightly.
"You have a problem," Nezu continued. "Your Quirk is too powerful for your body to contain. You are a walking kinetic battery with faulty wiring. At Shiketsu, they taught you suppression. Control through restriction." He leaned forward. "That is why you failed. That is why you overflowed."
Rei felt tears prick her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't —
"U.A. will teach you something different," Nezu said. "We will teach you release. Partnership. Trust." His eyes flicked to Midoriya. "Young Midoriya has a similar condition—power that exceeds his body's capacity. He has learned to channel it through others. To trust others to anchor him."
"I don't understand," Rei whispered.
Nezu smiled. It was terrifying on a bear-dog-mouse face. "You will be assigned as Midoriya's permanent training partner. Every exercise. Every mission. You will learn to discharge through him, and he will learn to absorb what you cannot contain."
"That's..." Midoriya's voice was wonderstruck. "That's perfect! Rei, don't you see? Your overflow, my durability—we could—"
"Could what?" Rei interrupted. She was shaking. "Rely on each other? Trust each other?" She laughed, bitter. "I don't know how to do that. At Shiketsu, trust was weakness. Partners were liabilities."
"Then learn," Nezu said. "Or leave. Those are your options."
Rei looked at Midoriya. He was watching her with those eyes—that impossible, terrifying hope. Like she was already someone worth believing in.
"Fine," she said. "I'll try."
But even as she said it, she felt the weight of it. The danger. Because she could already tell: Midoriya Izuku was the kind of person who would throw himself into fire for strangers. Who would break himself against impossible odds and smile through the blood.
And she was the kind of person who would catch him.
Every time.
Whether he asked or not.