All Might hadn't been feeling well ever since his bout with Sam—both physically and mentally.
Eating that smoke grenade had been a painful experience. He could hardly breathe normally to begin with, and inhaling a mouthful of smoke had only made things worse. He'd been coughing constantly over the past few days, his chest aching every time he drew in air.
But the worst pain wasn't physical.
It was in his heart.
He felt like he had failed Sam. That was why he had begged Recovery Girl to heal him. After a few days, All Might was relieved to learn that Sam had been transferred to a high-security facility. He sighed in relief—then doubled over, coughing violently.
Sam's eyes haunted him.
When the boy had been about to pull the trigger, his gaze hadn't been filled with hatred—but with mania and fear. A depth of terror All Might had never known.
Now, all he could do was try to help in whatever way he could.
All Might stood before the Hero Public Safety Commission building, determination set in his eyes.
'I will do what I can, young Suzuki. Just wait.'
He stepped inside—after coughing up a storm once more.
⸻
Sam sat in his new room, unmoving.
He hadn't spoken to anyone—not even when guards tried to provoke him. He simply stared forward, eyes empty.
'What's the point of all this?'
The room wasn't anything special. Sterile. Quiet. Cold.
Not much worse than the hell he'd lived in before.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"It's over. I'm free," he muttered bitterly. "Is that what you think, Lieutenant? I'll never be free. This is my world now."
He continued staring at nothing.
A buzzer sounded.
"Suzuki, you have a visitor," the guard said.
Sam rose and followed without protest. He didn't particularly care who it was.
When he entered the visiting room, he saw Principal Nezu—and someone he really hadn't wanted to see.
Eraserhead.
"You… well?" Sam said with mild loathing. "You got what you wanted, right?"
Then the thought crossed his mind.
'What's the fucking point?'
The resentment drained away, leaving only emptiness. He stared down at the table.
"Hello, Sam!" Nezu said cheerfully. "I've come to tell you something. Not too long ago, I struck a deal with the HPSC to keep you away from Tartarus—and even away from this facility."
Sam didn't react.
"You'll be allowed to attend U.A.," Nezu continued. "We won't force you to do hero work. If you wish to simply learn alongside the students, that's perfectly acceptable. I don't expect you to accept—but I do ask that you consider it."
Sam sighed.
"Didn't you hear me?" he said flatly. "Or did you bring this chump just to get a reaction out of me? Not interested."
He stood to leave.
"Sam—" Aizawa said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Sam paused.
"I didn't listen to you. I didn't try to understand. I just tried to arrest you," Aizawa continued, his hands shaking as he bowed his head. "I'm ashamed. You don't deserve to be here."
Sam glanced back at him.
"What makes you think that?"
Nezu and Aizawa froze.
Sam gave an ingenuine smirk.
"I killed a lot of people in Africa. Armed men. Soldiers. People who would've killed me if I hadn't acted first," he said coldly. "Still—there's blood all over my hands. Isn't that supposed to be a big no-no?"
They both looked shaken.
"You survived," Nezu said gently. "And what happened in Africa stays in Africa. You can rest assured."
Sam let out a hollow chuckle.
'I'm so fucking done with this.'
"Listen—fuck the law," Sam said. "Sure, I might get immunity since none of it happened on Japanese soil. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a killer. I did it without hesitation. It was just a job."
He looked at the door.
"This is where I belong. It's where I always belonged. Take your proposal and give it to someone who cares. I sure as hell don't."
He knocked on the door and waited.
"Sam, wait—"
"Piss off," Sam said tiredly. "Thanks, but no thanks."
He left.
Nezu exhaled slowly.
"This is going to be difficult."
"Yeah," Aizawa muttered. "So what do we do now?"
Nezu chuckled softly. "I hoped not to inconvenience him further. He already helped us greatly with the Commission."
"You mean Simmons," Aizawa said.
Nezu nodded.
⸻
Flashback — Days After Sam's Incarceration
"What do you want, Nezu?" the greying woman snapped from behind her desk. Dark circles clung to her eyes. "I already told you—it's not happening."
"Well," Nezu replied pleasantly, "I brought a guest."
She sighed as Lieutenant Donald Simmons stepped forward. He didn't salute. He didn't show respect.
"Ma'am," Simmons said flatly. "Lieutenant Donald Simmons, United States Armed Forces. I'm asking you to agree to what Principal Nezu has proposed."
She rubbed her temples. "Lieutenant, it's not that simple. Hawks is on sabbatical. Endeavor's knees were shattered and his jaw dislocated. Those are two of our greatest assets—besides All Might, who's also recovering thanks to Sam Suzuki."
She looked up sharply.
"So no. It's not happening."
The door opened.
"I'm afraid I must insist as well," All Might said, followed by a harsh cough.
"You should be resting," the woman snapped.
"Not when an innocent young man is in danger," All Might replied. "Throwing him in prison won't help him. There will be no rehabilitation. No hope."
Simmons folded his arms. "And I'm sure a judge would be interested to learn that the memo I sent regarding his mental health was ignored."
The woman scowled. "Is that a threat?"
"No," Simmons said calmly. "It's evidence."
All Might nodded. "Neither am I threatening you. I simply want to save a boy who was wronged. If I must go public with my support, I will."
She sighed heavily.
"Fine. On one condition. He attends U.A. under strict supervision. No public statements. No mention of the memo. We'll label it a rehabilitated youth project."
She rubbed her temples again.
⸻
Back to the Present
"He had to leave after that," Nezu explained. "Deployments don't wait. I expected Sam to reject the offer—but I hoped."
"Now we wait," Aizawa said quietly.
⸻
Weeks passed.
Sam continued to exist—nothing more.
U.A. had already begun its term.
Once again, the buzzer sounded.
"Suzuki, visitor."
Sam sighed.
'Why can't they just leave me alone?'
He followed the guard into the visiting room—and stopped short.
Nezu stood there.
And beside him—
"Lieutenant?" Sam asked. "Shouldn't you be back in Africa?"
"I was," Simmons replied. "But I found the time."
Sam folded his arms. "Why are you really here?"
"I want you to go to U.A."
Sam groaned. "Did he put you up to this?"
"No," Simmons said. "This is me."
He met Sam's eyes.
"You were never meant to be in Africa. You should've lived a peaceful life here. But you didn't."
Sam stayed silent.
"We can't change the past," Simmons continued. "We can't erase it. But we can move forward. I'm not asking you to forget anything. I'm asking you to try."
Sam scoffed. "I'm eighteen. The brats at U.A. are still brats."
"You'd be classified as a student who took time off after middle school due to special circumstances," Nezu chipped in.
Sam sighed again. "And you think I'd fit in? I'm one of the most hated men in the country."
"All I ask is that you try," Simmons said softly. "You're my friend, right?"
Sam hesitated.
"Then don't make me watch my friend spend the rest of his life behind bars."
That hurt.
Simmons had saved his life. Given him a second chance.
Sam buried his face in his hands.
'I'm going to regret this.'
"…Only because I owe you my life, Lieutenant," Sam muttered.
Simmons smiled faintly. "Thank you."
Sam exhaled, exhausted.
"Well," he said dryly, "it looks like I'm going to school."
End of Arc 1