The sound of paper flipping finally stopped. Neito's father had finished reading the document—U.A.'s official contract—and he looked up at Nezu with a thoughtful frown. His voice was low, but steady.
"So this contract has two conditions," he began slowly. "If Neito doesn't reach an exceptional level of strength, he'll work for U.A. as a teacher or a researcher. He can still contribute—just not from the front lines."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"But… if he does become strong. Strong like All Might—then after your death, he could rise through the ranks and inherit the title of Principal. He'd be the face of U.A."
Nezu nodded, calm as ever, taking another sip of his tea like the conversation was routine.
"I'm confident your son is capable of great things," he said. "You could call it a judgment made through High Spec. That's why I'm willing to invest in his future now."
Neito's mother frowned, her unease starting to show.
"Excuse me, but while we respect what All Might did, does Neito _have_ to become a hero if he wants to work at U.A.?"
Nezu gave a soft smile, smoothing his fur until it shimmered faintly in the light.
"He doesn't need to be an active hero," he assured her. "Just obtaining a license is enough. U.A. stands where it does today because I proved my worth—intellectually. With proper guidance, Neito-kun could do the same."
He turned back toward Shibasaki Monoma, his tone shifting to something more official.
"As I said before, I want Neito to work for U.A. after graduation. This contract formalizes that arrangement. So…"
His eyes glinted.
"…do we have a deal?"
Shibasaki's frown didn't lift. He held the principal's gaze, then spoke slowly, peeling back the layers of Nezu's offer.
"You're using the principal seat as bait," he said flatly. "So Neito doesn't consider any other group or opportunity. And while he's locked into this path, you'll be guiding him, shaping his thinking, his values…"
He folded his arms.
"You're grooming him into your ideal successor. And this contract? It only takes effect after your death. So you lose nothing. But you gain everything."
Nezu's eyes twinkled, and he let out a pleased chuckle.
"You'd make an excellent lawyer, Mr. Monoma. While I might have chosen softer words… yes, that's the heart of it."
"And," he added lightly, "I plan to make sure my investment pays off. Neito-kun will be publicly announced as my student. The news will air nationwide."
The weight of that statement sank in. Once it was public, there'd be no going back.
Neito wouldn't just be working for U.A.—he'd be _bound_ to it. Branded with a reputation before he'd even stepped through its doors. Expectations would follow him everywhere.
Shibasaki's frown deepened.
"So that's the plan. Package it as a gift, but you're securing your replacement before the world realizes you've been planning your exit."
He leaned back, letting out a slow breath.
"Alright, a salaryman to a businessman—what are the immediate benefits for us? You wouldn't just ask us to gamble on a 'maybe someday.'"
Nezu didn't miss a beat.
"If you agree, Neito will gain access to U.A.'s internal resources immediately. Any faculty quirk he wants to observe or copy, I'll arrange it."
"I'll provide as much support as I can. Any quirk I can get, I'll offer. Think of it as preparation—training for the role I hope he'll eventually grow into."
Shibasaki nodded slowly. On the surface, it all sounded generous.
But in truth, Neito could already accomplish most of this alone. He didn't need Nezu. What Nezu was really offering… was convenience. Legitimacy. And a smoother path.
'Nezu and his High Spec… they're dangerous,' he thought. 'If I didn't have Mockingbird's instincts, I'd have been eaten alive in this discussion.'
Still, he was no fool. He didn't like Nezu—but even he had to admit this was the best deal his son was going to get.
If he could turn back time, maybe he wouldn't have let Neito take any of those tests. Maybe he'd have kept him under the radar, far away from Nezu's gaze. But time travel was off the table. He didn't know anyone with a rewind-type quirk.
He turned toward his wife.
"What do you think?"
Her first instinct was to refuse. This all smelled too much like the hero world's politics.
But she held her tongue. Her husband had worked too hard to keep things under control. This wasn't the time to clash. They needed to decide together—after a full discussion.
Nezu picked up on the silence and gently interjected.
"Mrs. Monoma, there's no need to rush. Take your time. I'm not expecting an answer today. I trust you'll make the right choice, in your own time."
The family gave small, careful nods. For now, they would consider the offer.
Neito, who had remained silent through most of the exchange, finally looked up—mild confusion creasing his brow.
"If we're not signing anything today…" he said slowly, "then why do you keep looking at me like you're waiting for something?"
Nezu's grin widened.
With a quick motion, he plucked a single, gleaming white hair from his fur coat and held it out between his claws. Not a strand out of place, not a ripple in his composure.
"I want you to try and copy _High Spec_," he said, as if offering him a gift.
Neito blinked, surprised.
"…High Spec is a mutant-type."
He didn't say it like it was a problem—just a fact. But his tone was cautious.
"I've never copied one before."
Nezu's expression didn't change, but the glint in his eyes brightened.
"I know," he said. "And that's exactly why I want to see what happens."
Neito stared at the white strand, thoughts racing. His Copy quirk was supposed to work on all types—Emitter, Transformation, even Mutant.
But theory and practice weren't always the same thing. And unlike with emitter quirks, mutant-types had physical attributes. Internal structure. Sometimes even permanent changes.
What would copying something like _High Spec_ feel like? Would it flood his mind? Would it hurt?
He glanced toward his parents. Both had their eyes on him—his father nodding slightly, his mother visibly tense but saying nothing.
Neito looked down at the strand again. That old sensation crept up his spine. Jealousy.
He'd worked hard to suppress it in this feeling. Rewiring his emotions, training his focus, controlling the urges that came with his quirk.
But now?
Now he let it rise.
Because he wanted what Nezu had. That razor-sharp insight. That intellect that bent the rules around him. That terrifying foresight.
Whether it was a mutant-type or not—he wanted that quirk. His lips curled into a distorted smile. And he reached out—to take it.