Mitsuki arrived right on time.
The front office buzzed twice. Khan stood, smoothed his shirt, and stepped into the hallway just as the door opened.
Mitsuki Bakugo walked in with her hands in her jacket pockets, shoulders squared, chin up. She wasn't dressed to impress anyone. Jeans. Boots. Tank under a loose jacket. Hair tied back in a way that said she didn't have patience for it falling in her face.
"I don't usually get dragged in unless he's exploded something important," she said, already scanning the room. "So. What's the damage?"
Khan gestured to the seat across from his desk. "Nothing exploded. Promise. This is just a quick talk. Ten minutes, tops."
"Every school says that before dropping a suspension notice." she muttered, sitting hard.
He sat too. Opened the file slowly, not looking at it. Looked at her instead. She was already posturing to defend her son, even though she probably considered him an asshole most days. That's what moms did. They bled internally so their kids could pretend they were fine.
"Katsuki's doing well in class," Khan started. "Top physical score. Passed the entrance with the highest combat record on file."
Her mouth twitched. "Course he did."
"But," Khan said, shifting the file closer, "there's been some friction."
Her eyes narrowed. "You mean attitude."
"I mean the other students flinch when he raises his voice."
"Kid's passionate," she said. "Gets that from me."
He gave her a nod, not agreeing, not disagreeing. "He's also aggressive. Competitive to the point of confrontation."
She shrugged. "You want me to apologize for raising a fighter?"
Khan smiled. "Not at all. I respect fighters. But I'm curious, when did the fighting start?"
She leaned back, arms folding. "Hell if I know. Kid came out throwing hands. Teachers said he had a temper in pre-K. He bit a nurse once. Full teeth."
"You worried about him?"
"Worried he'll end up in cuffs, yeah," she said. "But he's not stupid. He knows how far he can go before it bites him."
Khan tilted his head. "Does he?"
Mitsuki didn't answer.
He waited. Then slid the file closer.
"There's a pattern," he said. "He pushes. Then when someone pushes back, he doubles down. Gets louder. Meaner."
Mitsuki bristled. "So what, you're calling him a bully?"
"I'm saying this started before he got to us," Khan said.
Her mouth opened. Closed again.
Khan softened the delivery.
"I'm not blaming you," he said. "But if he's carrying this much fire, it had to come from somewhere."
"He's always been like this," she said, quieter now. "Katsuki doesn't know how to lose. That's not new."
"But the fear?" Khan asked. "The volume? The need to stomp everyone else just to feel seen?"
She didn't answer.
Khan didn't push.
He sat back. Grabbed his coffee. Took a sip.
"You look tired," he said.
She huffed. "You have a kid?"
"No."
"Then don't try the sympathy line."
He smiled. "Not sympathy. Observation."
She looked away.
"Mom, factory hours, teenage boy with a combat Quirk and a superiority complex. That's not a recipe for peace."
She didn't laugh, but her mouth twitched again.
"Most of the time, you probably do everything you can just to keep things from falling apart," he added. "And when someone tells you it's not enough, you wanna throw a chair."
Mitsuki glanced at him. "You offering me a chair to throw?"
"Nope. Just saying I get it."
She huffed.
"Sometimes he just... looks at me like I'm the problem," she said, voice lower. "Like if I was richer, or smarter, or more like those polished hero moms, he'd be better. He's not wrong. I yelled a lot. Worked too much. Couldn't give him the things other kids had."
Khan didn't fake surprise.
"I've seen patterns," He said. "Kids who explode often come from houses where silence was never an option. Or where it was the only one."
He stood and walked to the cabinet behind his desk. Poured her a tea from the side shelf.
She took it. Sipped. Eyes still on him.
"Listen," Khan said, walking back around. "This isn't about discipline. This isn't a warning. I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to understand why an eighteen-year-old with everything going for him still acts like the world owes him a fight."
She looked down.
He added, "But maybe he learned it by watching you."
The glass clicked against the desk as she set it down. Took one long breath through her nose.
"Shit," she muttered.
"It's very hard to change his behavior now," he said. "It worked him wonders so far."
Mitsuki's eyes flicked up.
"He got rewarded for acting this way over and over again," Khan went on. "Teachers praised him. Kids backed off. Scores went up. And now he's been accepted into the best hero school in the country with the best score, all by doing what he does best. Unleashing his anger on anything in front of him."
She leaned back in the chair. Crossed her arms. Defensive, but still listening.
"Power draws attention," he said. "Not just from heroes. From people who want to use it. Twist it. Point it at something uglier than training bots."
Her jaw tightened.
"I can see through Bakugo," Khan continued. "I know he wants to be a hero. I know his heart's pointed the right way. He's not cruel for the sake of it. He's desperate to win."
She looked away.
"You know there's a Sports Festival coming up," Khan said. "Next week."
"Yeah," she muttered.
"He's opening it," Khan said. "Top of his year. Front and center. Cameras everywhere. Pros watching. Civilians watching. Villains watching."
That pulled her back.
"What about it?"
"He'll give a speech," Khan said. "Short. Probably loud. And if he goes out there breathing fire, snarling at the crowd, treating the whole thing as a personal execution list, that's the version of him the world remembers."
Mitsuki's foot started bouncing.
"Hot-headed," Khan said. "Violent. Unstable. That's the label that sticks. Not 'talented.' Not 'driven.' Just dangerous."
She frowned. "You think people are that stupid?"
"I think people love simple stories," Khan replied. "And villains love shortcuts."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Villains recruit talented students all the time," he said. "Especially the ones who feel misunderstood. Especially the ones who think everyone's against them. Especially the ones who think rage is proof of strength."
Mitsuki's eyes locked onto him with full attention.
"You saying my kid's gonna get recruited?"
"I'm saying he's going to be noticed," Khan said. "And attention doesn't come with labels you can peel off later."
She ran a hand through her hair. Let out a breath through her teeth.
"Shit."
Khan softened his posture. Gave her space.
"My job," he continued, "isn't to punish him. It's to keep him alive long enough to figure out who he wants to be when he's not fighting the whole world."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk.
"If you tell him to calm down, he hears weakness," Khan said. "If you tell him he's wrong, he hears rejection. But if you tell him the truth about how the world sees him, and how that can cost him everything he wants, he might stop and think."
Mitsuki's brow furrowed. "You want me to scare him?"
"I want you to ground him," Khan said. "Remind him that strength without control gets people buried."
She stared at the tea again.
"I yelled a lot," she said. "I didn't have time to hold his hand every time he got pissed."
"You taught him that volume wins arguments," Khan said gently. "That pressure means love. That backing down means losing."
Her jaw clenched.
"And now he's using that lesson everywhere," Khan added. "School. Class. Fights. Relationships."
She swallowed.
"You didn't do this on purpose," Khan said. "But patterns don't care about intent."
Silence again.
She rubbed her temples. "So what, I'm supposed to suddenly be some calm, perfect mom now?"
Khan grinned in his mind, barely keeping his act together.
"You need to show him weakness gets rewards," he said smoothly. "Rash, angry, loud, none of that earns him anything anymore."
Mitsuki's brow ticked.
"He shouts? You stop speaking to him," Khan continued. "Let him stew in the silence. Let him shout at the air. He pops his hands, he doesn't get dinner. You talk with your husband. Get him on the same page. Reward you for calm. When Bakugo watches you get rewarded for silence and submission, he'll learn."
She stared at him, deadpan, and her jaw flexed so hard you could probably hear her teeth grind.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped.
Khan sighed. Folded his hands together over the desk.
"Excuse my language, Miss Bakugo," he said. "But you taught him that anger equals reward. That volume wins. And unless that pattern breaks at home, nothing we do here is gonna stick."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then flared right back into a glare. "I didn't... he didn't... fuck you mean I taught him that?"
"I can see with a glance," he said, still sitting, still composed, "you hold the reins in that house."
Mitsuki narrowed her eyes.
"Your husband's quiet. Soft-spoken. Submissive, if we're being honest. Your son doesn't respect him. He learned early who won the arguments. Who raised their voice and got results. Who backed off when things got loud."
Her leg started bouncing again. She kept her mouth shut. Too smart to shout in a UA staff office. Too proud to leave.
Khan continued like he was reading a weather report.
"Bakugo's strong-willed. Stubborn. Doesn't fold easy. But even strong kids learn patterns. He saw his father cover or disappear when you got mad."
Her arms crossed, tight.
"He doesn't listen to me anymore," she said.
"He's not supposed to," Khan said, almost gently. "That window's closed. Now he's testing what kind of man he wants to be. You can't control that. You can only show him the cost of choosing wrong."
Mitsuki's jaw locked so tight it creaked. You could see it in her temples, that little twitch that meant she was holding herself back from saying something she'd regret and still probably say anyway.
"Then what can I do?" she asked.
Khan stood up to signal that the meeting was already over in his head.
"I already told you, Miss Bakugo," he said, straightening his shirt. "You need to stop rewarding noise. You need to start rewarding submission."
He walked around the desk, calm as hell, fingers brushing the edge of a chair as he passed.
"You can interpret that however you want," he went on. "I'm not here to tell you how to run your home. I'm a school counselor. I care about your son's future. That's it."
He reached the door and opened it.
Cool hallway air rolled in. Mitsuki didn't move right away.
Then she stood slowly, stepping closer, stopping a few feet from him.
Khan stepped aside, clearing the doorway.
Mitsuki stared at the open door, then back at him. She bowed. "Thank you."
Khan bowed too.
"Pleased to meet you," he replied. "You're welcome to visit anytime."
Khan watched her go for half a second. Then he closed the door.