Itami stared blankly at the chalkboard. His pencil hovered over the page, unmoving, the lead worn dull.
Why does it feel like I'm slipping further behind everyone? Midoriya. Todoroki. Even Kirishima. They were climbing. Pushing. Growing. And me?
Before he could answer, a familiar voice coiled in his ear.
Aika's voice—soft, but sharp enough to cut.
"I see betrayals of betrayal…"
His grip tightened. A flicker of the void. Her face. The Doppler. Flames and blood and—
Snap.
The pencil broke clean in two between his fingers.
The sound yanked him back. The room buzzed with movement—bags zipping, chairs scraping, voices rising. Class was over.
He stared at the jagged pencil in his hand, the tip trembling faintly.
Itami stuffed it into his bag and stood up fast, slipping out before anyone could ask questions.
But just as he crossed the threshold—
"Itami?"
A voice called after him.
He didn't stop walking.
Didn't stop moving.
Didn't stop thinking.
The next day passed in fragments.
Lessons blurred together—history, strategy, support systems.
Names and numbers slipped through his mind like smoke.
Itami sat through them, silent and still, his page often blank. His eyes fixed on nothing.
Until homeroom.
Aizawa stepped up to the front of the class, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded in that usual deadpan way. The murmurs in the room quieted a little.
"Summer vacation's close at hand," he started.
That got everyone's attention.
"Of course," Aizawa continued, "it would be completely irrational to let you all take a whole month off."
The entire class groaned at once.
Itami blinked slowly. The words barely registered. He hadn't even realized what month it was.
"You'll be doing a summer training camp in the woods," Aizawa said flatly.
Kirishima fist-pumped. "I freaking knew it! Nice!"
Mineta screamed "Truth or dare!" while half the class was already shouting about bathhouses and curry and fireworks.
Itami didn't react. The buzz of excitement bounced around him like static he couldn't connect to.
"However—" Aizawa raised his voice slightly, and everyone hushed. "Anyone who doesn't pass the upcoming final exams…"
He let the pause hang.
"…is in for summer school hell, right here."
The class exploded again—some shouting, some panicking.
Itami just stared at the blackboard, eyes dry.
Final exams. A test he wasn't even sure he could pass.
The day dragged on from there as he went through the motions.
The sun was low, casting an amber haze across the city. As Itami slipped into the back of the black SUV, the sky bled orange and red, the last warmth of the day swallowed by clouds.
He barely noticed the driver. Didn't speak. Just leaned his head back and stared out the window as the city blurred past.
Meanwhile—
In a quiet conference room deep within UA, the final exams were being carved into stone.
Aizawa flipped through the files in his hand, his expression unreadable but sharp. "As for the teams…"
He laid the first folder down. "Ashido and Kaminari. Single-minded and action-oriented."
Across the table, Nezu chuckled lightly, pressing his paws together. "Principal, please use your intelligence to put them in their place."
"Okay," the principal said, his smile thin.
The other teachers continued—Present Mic, Cementoss, Ectoplasm—each analyzing strengths, flaws, what needed breaking down. Not just physical, but mental. Tactical. Emotional.
"Next: Midoriya and Bakugo," Aizawa said flatly.
Groans erupted.
"It's only because they're on such bad terms."
"They'll need to learn cooperation or fail trying," Aizawa muttered. "I'm not pairing them based on grades. I'm pairing them based on what will make them uncomfortable."
The room hummed in quiet agreement.
Then the door creaked open.
Three figures stepped into the room without permission. Two wore sharp black suits. The third—Akuma—stood between them in his pro hero attire, posture relaxed but eyes razor-sharp.
Silence gripped the room. The kind that meant something was about to change.
A voice broke the stillness like a blade through silk.
"Good evening, everyone. Apologies for the intrusion, but we have pressing matters to address."
The speaker's tone was smooth. Controlled. The kind of voice trained to command boardrooms, not battlefields, though it held a dangerous edge, like it could pivot either way.
Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his tone flat. "Who are you? This is a closed faculty meeting."
A smile played at the edges of the man's lips—too precise to be warm.
"I'm sorry where are my manners.I am Ryuzo," he said smoothly, adjusting the cufflink of his sleek black suit. "Head of public affairs for Draco Tech Enterprises… and formal representative of the Wyrm-Crest family."
He gestured casually to the man beside him—a towering presence in black with cold, unreadable eyes. "This is security. Irrelevant to this discussion."
Then he placed a hand on Akuma's shoulder. "And I trust you're all familiar with our Pro Hero, FlameBorn Warden. He'll be assisting with today's… proposal."
Akuma gave a faint nod. His mouth didn't move. His eyes were locked on Aizawa.
Principal Nezu tilted his head. "Your scheduled meeting with us is set for next week. You're a little early I should say."
"Exactly why we came now," Ryuzo replied, stepping forward with businesslike precision. "Discussing the final exams without including us would make that meeting pointless, wouldn't it?"
A pause. Silence thickened.
Aizawa's fingers flexed under the table.
Ryuzo's smile didn't fade as he reached into his coat, pulled out a slim yellow envelope, and tossed it across the table. It skidded to a stop in front of Nezu and Aizawa.
"Everything's inside," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "Details, The exam grounds, everything.."
The packet sat like a bomb.
Nezu's eyes narrowed as he lifted it with one paw. Aizawa didn't move.
"Let's not pretend we don't fund your facilities," Ryuzo added calmly. "Or that your little hero program doesn't benefit from our continued support."
His tone never changed. But the room got colder.
"You'll find our request is simple: Itami Wyrm-Crest's final exam will be handled internally. We design how it should be while you sit back."
The room held its breath.
Then the pushback came fast.
Midnight leaned forward, brows furrowed. "What gives you the right to dictate our internal exams? This isn't a corporate playground."
Ectoplasm's voice followed, clipped and stern. "Students' growth is evaluated by trained professionals—not family-appointed watchdogs."
Present Mic scoffed, arms crossed. "And since when does a final exam include threats and surprise appearances? This feels like more than just a 'proposal.'"
Ryuzo let them speak.
Then calmly, deliberately, he took the chair at the end of the table and sat.
"Of course, you're all justified in asking those questions," he said, folding his hands on the table. "And I respect your roles here… deeply."
He glanced down at the yellow folder. "But it's not about what gives us the right—it's about what grants us the power."
His gaze swept the room. "Draco Tech Enterprises provides nearly fifty percent of the support tech and combat robotics for your Hero Department's training infrastructure. We even maintain your holographic projection rigs."
He paused. "If, let's say, we were to… withdraw support—how long before your entire support curriculum collapses?"
No one responded.
Ryuzo smiled wider, voice cooling.
"And what would happen if our business partners—Detnerat, HPSC procurement branches, even the Tokyo arm of the Board of Hero Equipment—were to blacklist UA for being… difficult to work with?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "We'd never say anything publicly, of course. We'd simply let the market decide."
Present Mic clenched his fists under the table. Midnight leaned back, clearly biting her tongue.
"And let's not forget," Ryuzo continued, voice now velvety and thin as a knife edge, "how fragile public opinion has become, post-USJ. It would be deeply unfortunate if the truth about the Hero Killer incident and certain students illegally engaging in vigilante activity were to reach the media."
He turned to Nezu. "We wouldn't want that, of course. And I know you don't."
Then to Aizawa. "And I'm sure no one here wants to see three promising careers dragged through the mud—alongside the Chief of Police, who knowingly lied to the public."
Silence followed.
Thick. Bitter. Heavy with quiet fury.
"So… shall we call this a collaboration,"
Ryuzo said, slowly twisting his chair side to side, "or would you prefer the media to phrase it differently?"
A beat passed.
Midnight's chair scraped back slightly. "You're blackmailing us."
Ryuzo's smile didn't falter. "I'm offering alignment. With interests we already share, no?"
Present Mic leaned forward, voice low and edged. "What kind of 'interest' is forcing a student to take a final exam written by corporate execs?"
"It's mainly a family matter. The corporate part is only on paper." Ryuzo added.
Ectoplasm added flatly, "So is this about DracoTech's board—or just family politics?"
Ryuzo barely looked phased. Instead, he leaned back a bit and continued, his tone now turning cool and clinical. "Let's not pretend Itami isn't the strongest student in your class. You know it. We know it."
He pointed casually around the room.
"He's already outclassed his peers. In a direct fight, he'd walk through most of them. And some of you as well."
He pressed on. "You think a cookie-cutter exam will challenge him? Prepare him? It won't. You'd be doing him a disservice by keeping him tethered to your 'balanced metrics.' Our proposal will push him—truly push him. That's how we forge leaders in the Crest."
He raised a finger—and like on cue, a breeze rustled the room, sliding the yellow packet to his side. He then grabbed it and raised it up a bit. "What you'll find in this packet would be better for Itami. A Challenge designed to scale with his ability. Built to expose his weaknesses. Pressure makes diamonds, yes?"
Nezu's clasped his paws. His gaze didn't shift. "You had no legal need to come here. You wanted us to feel this."
Ryuzo leaned back, spreading his arms slightly. "Perception is everything, Principal. And I wanted the message to be clear."
Aizawa finally spoke. His voice was flat, but the undertone was granite. "And if we refuse?"
Ryuzo stood.
"Then DracoTech respectfully withdraws all technological support from U.A.'s robotics division, research grants, combat testing platform and several other partnerships that will also come with us. Including those with international eyes."
He adjusted his tie. And slid the packet back to Aizawa.
"And I'd strongly suggest checking tomorrow morning's HeroNet trending page—just in case the narrative gets away from you."
A heavy pause followed.
Nezu slowly grabbed the packet.
"Very well," Nezu said quietly. "We'll review your proposal. That's all we're promising."
Ryuzo smiled wide. "Just as I expected. I knew we can see eye to eye. "
He turned, nodding to Akuma and the silent bodyguard.
"Gentlemen."
The three took their exit as the door shut with a soft click. The silence that followed wasn't peaceful—it was radioactive.
Aizawa didn't move right away. But grabbed the packet.
Nezu finally broke the silence. "So," he said, voice light but laced with steel, "What are everyone's thoughts about this?"
Ectoplasm's arms crossed. "They came to gloat. This was always a done deal."
Present Mic paced once, twice, then stopped. "We're really just gonna let them strong-arm us like that? What happens when they want to write the curriculum next?"
Midnight exhaled hard, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They threw the USJ incident in our faces like it was pocket change."
Aizawa opened the packet.
He scanned the first page. Then another.
Didn't blink—but his jaw clenched.
The other teachers watched in silence.
"What's in it?" Present Mic asked, quieter now.
Aizawa's voice was even, but grim. "They're brute forcing his exam. A solo match—Itami against the Flameborn Warden. His only way to pass is to defeat Flameborn Warden."
Midnight brow twitched. "That doesn't sound like a good final Exam. Sounds more like training meant to beat him down."
"No restrictions," Aizawa continued. "They want Warden to go all out. They want to see what he can do against an overwhelming opponent."
"Strength above all," Midnight muttered. "It's not making sense, it doesn't sound like they're testing his progress —they're testing his breaking point."
A pause. Heavy.
Then—
BANG.
The door burst open.
"Apologies, everyone! Got caught up in a meeting with a fellow student." All Might announced, stepping in with a sheepish grin. "What did I miss?"
Aizawa didn't even blink.
Midnight looked at the ceiling annoyed.
Present Mic muttered, "Just the start of a corporate coup."
All Might blinked, then slowly sat down in a seat.
"Ah… so the usual then. Wait what?!"