For the next few weeks, Khan juggled his double life carefully. Mornings were for playing the invisible staffer at UA, nodding through admin briefings, quietly building mental dossiers on the students who were about to crack. Evenings were split between two very different girls with two very useful trajectories.
Toga had settled into the apartment. She never unpacked anything, but she eased into living there. Bloody bags in the fridge. Hoodie draped over the kitchen chair. Shoes kicked off by the door, mismatched socks curled beside them. She didn't talk much, unless she wanted something. But when she smiled, that grin hit different. Feral. Too pleased for someone that traumatized.
Sakura was the opposite. Neat. Nervous. All thank-you's and lowered eyes, showing up to Khan's place every other night with a backpack and more guilt than awareness. The first few visits were "just to talk." Then it turned into questions. Financial aid. Campus documents. Job market. By week two, she was asking if she could borrow Khan's laptop to look up internships she had no shot at getting.
Every time she sat across from him, she looked like she wanted to ask more. But she never did. That was fine. Khan knew how this game worked. You don't pressure the tightrope walkers. You let them balance themselves into desperation. Let them pretend they're in control until they need a hand, and don't realize it's a leash.
Toga, though. She was different. She wasn't shy about what she wanted. Blood, mostly. Excitement. Someone who didn't flinch when she told the truth out loud.
The system hadn't rewarded him yet.
Which meant she still had the potential to bolt.
Still hadn't tethered herself fully to him. Still had that restless itch under her skin that said "I could disappear tonight and no one would stop me."
He couldn't let that happen. She couldn't join the League.
So, halfway through week two, he brought her a gift. An injured Pro Hero, trussed up like cattle and dumped in a windowless back room with just enough medical care to keep him alive and juicy.
Guy wasn't famous. Low-tier patrol type. Broad shoulders, broken ribs, healing wrong because Khan wanted it to. Knocked unconscious during a mugging gone wrong. Never made it back to HQ. Because Khan "found him first."
Toga's reaction was immediate.
The second she opened the door and saw him breathing on the floor, IV drip taped to the wall, restraints cut into his wrists, eyes fluttering from whatever sedative cocktail was keeping him quiet, she went still.
Then her face cracked into a smile. So fucking joyful.
Her whole body bounced like her soul left her chest and came back screaming. She clapped her hands together, teeth flashing.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "He's real?"
Khan leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. "Breathes. Twitches. Moans if you kick him."
Toga walked around the guy as if a kid circling a Christmas present. She squatted, tilted her head, and pulled out a syringe.
The second the needle went in, her body language changed. She relaxed. Shoulders uncoiled. Pupils blew wide. She didn't moan, but it was close. When she pulled it out, her hand trembled. Just a little. She licked the needle clean.
"He's type O," she said, breathless. "It tastes plain. But stable."
Khan smiled.
"I can milk him anytime?" she asked, eyes wide. Already planning it. Already naming him in her head.
"Long as you don't kill him," Khan said.
"I won't!" she chirped, already prepping another draw. "I love him!"
Khan grinned as he walked back to the main room.
She wouldn't run for now at least.
**
Khan sat in the staff room. Elbow on the table, bored half to death but doing a damn good job pretending otherwise. Buttoned-up shirt, generic face, enough fake professionalism to pass as furniture. Nobody looked at him twice.
The walls buzzed with fluorescent lighting. Nezu sat perched on his chair. Aizawa looked hungover. Midnight kept shifting in her seat. Vlad King stared at the monitor, sighing every few seconds.
The entrance exam recordings were up on the main screen, looping footage of teenagers having the most important breakdowns of their lives. Tapes rolled, names flashed, points tallied.
"I'm still not sold on the Mineta kid," Vlad muttered, arms crossed. "His capture count's decent, but he spent more time hiding behind rubble than fighting."
Midnight waved him off. "Yeah, but he used the environment. Tactics matter. And he got points for rescues."
"He groped one of the bots to steer it away from that girl," Aizawa said flatly, not even looking up from his files, pointing at the screen.
Khan's brow twitched. That kid was already a walking lawsuit. Perfect material for blackmails. He could use him.
"Let's move on," Nezu said cheerfully, tapping his pen against the table. "Itsuka Kendo. High support count, creative application of her Quirk, minimal wasted motion."
"She's got the potential for leadership," Cementoss offered. "Great strength and strategy."
Midnight raised a brow. "She's eighteen this March. A little younger than our students."
Khan didn't say a word. Just nodded along with the rhythm of their voices, fingers drumming silently against his thigh. Kendo was already on his list.
They cycled through more names.
"Kirishima Eijirou," Vlad read off. "Strong physical showing. Full-on brawler type. Nothing strategic, but he's got the heart."
"Heart doesn't win fights," Aizawa said. "Give him a few weeks. If he doesn't crack, he might survive."
"Still more useful than Sato," Midnight said. "That one powered up, punched a few bots, then passed out face-first in a ditch."
Nezu giggled. "Sugar crash. Literally."
Khan smirked.
Then the screen shifted again.
"Bakugou Katsuki," Vlad announced, already grimacing. "Top combat score. Blew through the robots. Blew through his shoes. Blew through half the arena."
"Yeah," Midnight said dryly. "Also yelled at three students and knocked one into a wall."
"He's dangerous," Aizawa said. "But controllable."
"He's angry," Nezu added. "But focused."
Khan raised his hand. "Sir?"
Heads turned. Nezu paused mid-note. Aizawa looked up through his hair. Midnight arched a brow.
Khan let the blush creep up, shy and twitchy. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes dodging theirs.
"T-t-there are records of him bullying his peers in middle school," he said. Voice soft, like it almost didn't want to get involved. "Another participant, Midoriya Izuku especially. The reports say Midoriya was a late bloomer. Didn't awaken his Quirk until recently. Until then, he was hospitalized. Repeatedly. By Bakugo."
Midnight's smirk dropped. Aizawa straightened. Vlad stopped mid-sip.
Some fool tried to wave it off with, "Yeah, but he's got potential---"
Nezu didn't even look up. "Potential doesn't excuse abuse."
Silence.
"Thank you, Khan," Nezu said. "We'll flag the file for review."
Khan gave a nod, sat back, exhaled like the nerves had finally caught up to him. One long, exhausted sigh. The good kind. The kind that said, I spoke up. I did the right thing.
He kept his face soft.
He watched them run Bakugo's tape again.
A walking concussion machine. Explosion after explosion, movement like a bomb wearing sneakers, shouting the whole time. He'd shredded the arena, ripped his gloves, scorched his boots, and barked at anyone who came too close.
At one point he punted a downed robot's severed head into the sky and screamed something about "All Might-level power."
Another student on the feed flinched hard when he passed. That got noted too.
Then they moved on.
"Next," Vlad muttered.
Ashido Mina.
The screen rolled through her performance. Fast, loose, slippery. Laughing while melting robot faces, backflipping off rubble.
"She's chaos," Aizawa muttered.
"Yeah," Midnight said, leaning forward a bit. "But efficient. Good instincts."
"Overconfidence leads to sloppiness," Vlad argued.
"She scored clean," Cementoss pointed out. "Minimal wasted effort. No casualties."
Khan tilted his head. Mina was a hottie. He wanted that pink skinned pussy. Pinkier it was, better.
Shinsou Hitoshi.
Someone groaned.
"No combat points," Vlad said.
His Quirk made people act against themselves. Dangerous if aimed right. Still. He was the kind of guy who'd sit in a classroom and seethe. Watch the world pass him by. Build resentment by the pound.
Jirou Kyoka.
"She's got good ears," someone said.
"That's not a strategy," Aizawa snapped.
"She used sound mapping to locate enemies. That's strategy."
"She's barely combat ready."
"She's got enough edge to keep up," Midnight said. "Put her with someone more aggressive. Let her learn the rhythm."
They cycled a few more names. Tokoyami. Sero. Kaminari.
Standard comments. Quirk synergy, raw potential, general awareness.
Then they got to Iida Tenya.
"Speed type. Obvious discipline," Cementoss said.
"Hero family background," Midnight added.
"Overdoes it," Aizawa said. "Rules over instinct."
"He tried to stop another student mid-rescue," Vlad said.
"Which one?"
"Uraraka," Midnight said. "She waved him off."
Khan's mouth twitched.
"She's on crutches, by the way," someone noted. "Injury at the end. Zero-Pointer incident."
"She didn't complain once," Nezu said. "Resilient."
They went on.
Hagakure. Ojiro. Sato. Koda.
Background noise. Stats read clean, but none of them had the shine.
When the screen finally went dark, Nezu cleared his throat.
"Well," he said, tail flicking once. "That narrows our options."
Aizawa stood. "Still too many."
"We'll cull the list tomorrow."
Vlad muttered something about coffee.
Khan stood last.
As the others filed out, Midnight gave him a quick glance.
He gave her nothing back.
Khan walked out of the room, hands in his pockets.
**
Bakugo still got in. Of course he did. First in the rankings. Combat score through the roof. Even with the red flags Khan slipped in, the board let him through. Just a note on his file and some fake-ass "monitoring procedure" that meant jackshit.
Khan didn't even try to fake disappointment. Fine. Let the grenade-headed cockroach in. Made it easier. The League was gonna eye-fuck him into a kidnapping within the first few months anyway. And if they didn't move fast enough, well, accidents happened. Especially in places like the USJ.
Hell, Khan could do it himself. Maybe during the villain attack. Maybe just during class. Slipped into the crowd, set off a flashbang, left a corpse that looked close enough in a smoldering mess of ego and sweat.
System rewards would be massive. But it came with splash damage. UA's rep would take a nosedive. And if the wrong students dropped out he'd lose some high-value targets. Not worth it yet.
He needed to think it through.
So for now, Bakugo lived.
For now.
**
The next month went silent.
Khan played the background. Sighed in meetings. Filed reports with the right typos. Wore the mask so tight they forgot he had a face underneath it. Nobody asked questions. Nobody checked his credentials. Staff saw his chair before they saw him.
By the time the term started, he already had the list.
Six new girls from 1-A, and seven from 1-B. Every one of them a cocktail of repressed sex, impossible expectations, and cracks they didn't even know they had yet.
He used Scandal Engine to spread a rumor on the first day of the school. He would collect the fruits of it soon enough.
"Mr. Khan listens."
"Mr. Khan helped me get a bursary."
"Mr. Khan told me I wasn't crazy for feeling like I didn't belong."