Khan made it to the door, opened it and stopped face-to-face with Midnight.
Black leather. Legs for miles. Eyes that said she'd watched your browser history and wasn't mad just disappointed you weren't kinkier.
She blinked. Smirked. One hip tilted.
"Khan," she said.
He offered the polite smile.
"Leaving, Nemuri?"
Midnight nodded. "You?"
"Yeah. I'm done for the day." He matched pace with her, walking side by side. "Survived the meeting. Didn't scream. That's a win."
"Barely counts as survival," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I've been listening to Vlad bitch about caffeine for two hours. I swear, if he says 'espresso shot' one more time, I'm gonna taser his nipples."
Khan laughed. "That's a violation."
She rolled her eyes. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
The hallway stretched quiet for a few steps.
Midnight side-eyed him. "You going straight home?"
"Probably." He shrugged. "Might stop for a drink. File some reports. You know. Pretend I've got a life."
"You don't strike me as the type to pretend."
"That's 'cause I do it really well."
She snorted. "Humble."
"Always."
She slowed near the staff exit. Her fingers tapped the doorframe like she was thinking about something heavier than casual talk should allow.
"You know," she said, voice lower now, "you're weirdly quiet. For a guy who's actually useful."
Khan raised a brow. "Useful?"
Midnight tilted her head, lips twitching. "You keep your head down. Do your work. Don't chase clout or sniff around Nezu's tail like half the admin creeps. That makes you useful."
"Or suspicious."
"Oh, definitely suspicious," she said, stepping out into the cooler air. "But in a good way. Like a knife you keep around just in case."
Khan chuckled. "Thanks. I think."
She paused again. "You ever drink with coworkers?"
"Not on purpose."
Midnight gave him a look. The kind that was halfway between amusement and "try me, bitch."
"Invite's open," she said. "Friday night. Bar three blocks from here. Tell no one, dress nice, and maybe I'll buy the second round."
Then she walked off. Tight hips, long legs, that unmistakable trail of chaos she carried with her like perfume made of tension.
Khan watched her go. Just long enough to appreciate the view.
Then he slipped out the side exit, steps light, smirk blooming again under the city lights.
**
The next day, he got a surprise visit.
Knock on the office door. Loud. Khan glanced up, expecting a clipboard and a headache.
And froze.
All Might. All Fucking Might. Full buffed-up, glory-mode version. Hair defying gravity, suit stretched across muscles that probably had muscles, standing there like someone rolled a statue out of a propaganda poster and gave it a coffee addiction.
For a half-second, Khan thought that was it. The gig was up. Caught. System exposed. Canon shattered, and the Symbol of Peace himself had shown up to personally snap his neck for crimes against narrative flow.
Khan stared for half a second, shock cracking his mask before fixing it.
All Might froze. Blinked. Took one look at Khan's wide-eyed, stunned expression and seemed to relax.
Because to him, that wasn't guilt.
That was awe.
"Oh!" All Might said, voice raspier than the posters gave him credit for. "Forgive the intrusion. I didn't schedule, hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Khan shot up from his seat, putting on the full damn act, smile creeping up slowly, eyes wide like he'd just caught God taking a piss in his bathroom.
"Interrupting? No way," Khan said, already digging for a pen. "Sir, it's, shit, wow, I didn't think, could I get a signature?"
He didn't wait for a reply. Paper appeared like magic. So did the fake fanboy sparkle.
All Might chuckled. That good-natured laugh he probably practiced in the mirror back when he still had a neck worth flexing. He took the pen and scribbled a looping signature.
"Haha! I didn't mean to startle you!" he said, stepping into the office. "I just happened to be on campus and thought I'd introduce myself!"
He passed the paper. "There you go," he said.
Khan nodded like he'd just been knighted. Took the paper back. Set it down. Smiled again.
"All good, sir. Want some coffee?"
All Might gave a tired nod, eased into the guest chair. "That'd be lovely, thank you."
Khan walked to the side table, hit the machine, poured the brew. His brain, meanwhile, was checking exits, reviewing firewall logs, and running a sweep for how the hell this meeting got scheduled without tripping a system ping.
He passed the mug over and sat again, casual as hell.
All Might took a sip, then sighed. "You keep good coffee."
"Better than the teacher's lounge," Khan said with a laugh. "Don't tell anyone"
All Might grinned, gave his signature thumbs up, and set the cup down. He was too big for the chair, shoulders hunched and knees wide.
Then came the fidget. A little shift in his seat. A small tap of the fingers against the armrest. And for someone who carried national pride in his damn smile, that was a tell. The guy wasn't here for coffee. He was warming up to something.
"I've been thinking about one of the new students," he said, casual on the surface. "Bakugo Katsuki."
Khan put on a thoughtful face, listening.
All Might kept going. "I expected the pride. Not the... well, the volatility. He doesn't listen. He shuts down when corrected. I'm not even sure how to approach him without it becoming a fight."
Khan leaned back in his chair, head tilted. "It's the Quirk."
All Might blinked. "Huh?"
"Emitter type Quirks change the personality of the user. His Quirk is literally explosion. It changes his behavior. Straight-forward, violent, destructive. And that kind of output teaches a child, especially one who succeeds early, that aggression is productivity. That dominance equals results."
He tapped the side of his head. "Bakugo didn't just get born with this power. He got hardwired into a feedback loop. Rage equals power. Power equals success. And success makes people look the other way. Reinforces the rage."
All Might frowned, but was listening.
"He's been praised for being strong," Khan said, hands lacing, "He's smart enough to follow instructions, but he's been rewarded for ignoring them."
All Might exhaled slowly. "I figured it was deeper than just 'bad attitude.'"
Khan nodded. "It is. You can't ask someone whose whole identity is tied to detonating things to 'be calm' and expect them to just snap into obedience. His Quirk is his personality."
All Might was quiet again. Looked down at the coffee cup, nodded like he was filing that away.
Khan leaned forward just enough to make it look like something had been sitting heavy on his chest.
"I actually flagged Bakugo before the term started," he said. "I told the principal."
All Might's brow ticked up.
"Not to keep him out. Just... to be careful," Khan said, tone softer now. "There's reports. From his middle school. Repeated aggression. And another participant this year, Midoriya Izuku if I remember correctly, was hospitalized more than once. Same school. Same class."
All Might's face barely shifted, but Khan saw the ripple.
"I think," Khan continued, "and this is just a theory, maybe Midoriya's Quirk didn't awaken until late because of all that. Stress. Fear. Years of suppression. Kids like him, the ones who grow up under someone else's shadow, especially someone violent... sometimes the body just shuts down to protect itself."
He knew it was bullshit. He knew damn well it was all big fat nothing. But watching the faint twitch in All Might's fingers?
Worth it.
"I didn't want to say anything that'd cost either of them a seat," Khan added, quick to cushion it. "But if we don't talk about the root cause, it's gonna explode. Probably literally."
All Might rubbed the back of his neck, expression tight.
"You did the right thing," he said. "Thank you. It helps."
Then came the shift.
It was so subtle most people would've missed it. But Khan didn't miss it. The way All Might's gaze slid across the desk.
"And there is this other student," All Might said, not naming names.
Khan waited, pretending not to track every twitch of All Might's massive thumbs fumbling across each other.
Then the man finally spoke.
"He's going through a hard time," All Might muttered, not quite looking at him. "His dreams were crushed recently. Something he wanted couldn't be met, even though he... he got something else. Something better. But it doesn't feel like a win to him."
Khan stared. Oh.
This wasn't about Bakugo anymore. All Might wasn't here to discuss a file. He was trying to talk about another boy.
Green hair. Broken bones. A heart cracked right down the middle.
Khan set his mug down.
"I shouldn't be saying much without context," he said, walking the line between concern and fake caution. "But if I'm guessing right... you might wanna remind that student that being a hero doesn't come from wearing a jacket with a logo on it."
All Might stared, mouth open.
Khan kept going.
"A hero isn't the course. Or the ranking. Or the license. It's the heart. The choice. Every day. Whether anyone's watching or not."
Silence.
All Might didn't breathe for a second. Just stared. Shocked, then something close to relief. Like someone had opened the exact right window in a suffocating room.
"You---" All Might started, then stopped.
He chuckled. Rubbed the back of his neck like the thought embarrassed him. "You said that a lot better than I could've."