Khan clicked his tongue after Mitsuki left. He had more to say. Plenty. But even he had limits on what left his mouth in this room.
If Mitsuki husband had bent her over the kitchen counter and fucked her in the ass while Katsuki watched from the hallway, that'd probably fix a few things. Hell, if Izuku did it, even better.
Just imagine that, Mitsuki moaning through gritted teeth, knuckles white on the table, while the nerd her son used to bully turned her into a cautionary tale about underestimating late bloomers. Katsuki wouldn't need therapy after that. He'd need a muzzle and a new worldview.
Too bad Khan didn't share.
And that boy couldn't get hard with a naked confession in his lap and two fingers in his mouth. He'd probably cry through foreplay and write an apology letter after.
Mitsuki wouldn't accept it anyway. Too proud. Too loud. She'd punch before she begged, and Khan didn't mind either, but the window wasn't open yet.
Didn't matter.
A month from now, her son would be kidnapped. And she'd learn, finally, if pride could comfort her in the dark. If holding her ground meant jackshit when her baby was bleeding in a villain's warehouse, screaming for heroes who were too late.
That thought cooled him down. Calmed the blood a little. Gave him something to look forward to while the rest of the world pretended UA was bulletproof.
Khan poured another coffee and sat back down, eyes on the door.
[Thread Extended: Mitsuki Bakugo
Resistance Rating: 72%
Emotional Trigger: Son's Safety / Guilt Displacement / Dominance Reversal]
Good. She was a project now. All it'd take was one televised disaster and a little bit of well-timed comfort, and she'd fold harder than a cheap chair under a drunk uncle.
The window was small, but it was there. He could already see it. She'd come back. Rattled. Crying in her voice but pretending she wasn't. Blaming herself. Blaming her husband. Probably screaming in his face. Telling him he never raised the boy right, like she hadn't been the one throwing kitchen utensils when Katsuki was six.
And when she got tired of the yelling? When the shame caught up and the silence finally kicked in? That's when she'd reach for the only number in her phone that hadn't disappointed her lately.
Khan.
He'd answer.
Like a good counselor.
Like someone who cared.
He wouldn't fuck her then. Not yet. That was a win that needed to simmer. Let the cracks widen. Let the guilt curdle. Let her hate herself.
Khan leaned back. Leverage built on someone's worst day. Emotional paperwork filed under "emergency" with invisible ink. One fuck-up away from breaking. One drink away from a mistake. One moment away from crawling back into his office with mascara running and a mouth that forgot how to say no.
Khan cracked his neck and sipped his coffee.
Tomorrow, media would break in to steal the curriculum. The USJ incident was a heartbeat away.
Too early to kill All Might.
Way too early.
He hadn't even met Midoriya yet. Couldn't control someone he hadn't sunk hooks into. Couldn't pull strings if the puppet didn't recognize the hand. Nah. All Might still had a role to play. At least until Khan could turn the big bastard into a tool with teeth.
So All Might lives... For now.
He got up and paced the office.
"Too early to shake UA's reputation," he muttered. "Still needs to look invincible."
Bakugo lives too. The little explosive asshole was valuable. Kidnap him and half the school would lose its shit. Heroes would panic. Students would question their training. Mitsuki would shatter. He needed that.
No need to kill Katsuki yet. Just strip him out of the picture and let the hole widen.
Girls? Obviously, they survive.
He dragged a hand down his face. He needed a few more strings to pull.
He needed to talk to the Symbol again. Drop more breadcrumbs. Maybe convince him to hand over Izuku's trust with a little speech about support systems and second chances.
Or better...
Send Izuku straight to Khan.
A counselor's guidance. A Quirkless success story. A quiet, kind man who never asked for anything and still gave everything. Bullshit sold better when the voice sounded like help.
***
Sakura visited that night, all shy and hesitant.
Khan opened the door halfway, already holding a drink. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
Sakura stood there hugging her bag. Wore a nice new skirt. Clean and ironed blouse. Her smile was weak.
"Hi," she said.
Khan stepped back, waving her in without a word.
She slipped past, quiet as always, glancing at the couch. She sat. Perched, more like. Back stiff, knees tight, bag in her lap.
He sat opposite her. Put his glass down.
She didn't speak for almost a full minute. Just twisted the strap of her bag and stared at her knees.
Then she said it.
"I... um. I was wondering."
Here it comes.
"I know you already helped a lot," she said quickly. "I know that. I'm really, really grateful. I've been using everything carefully and I didn't waste anything, I swear, but... I, uh..."
He didn't rush her. Just picked up the glass again. Sipped slowly.
She swallowed.
"I need new shoes," she said finally, barely audible. "The ones I have are... they broke."
Khan said nothing. Just tilted his head slightly.
"I tried gluing them," she added. "But they're just... They won't last. And there's a thing on campus tomorrow. I can't walk around with holes in the soles. It rains, and I get soaked, and---"
She stopped. Took a breath. Pressed her hands flat on her knees.
"The money you gave... it's gone."
Khan sighed..
Sakura flinched. Just a little. Her hands curled in her lap, expecting to be scolded.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I-- I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
He put the glass down and rubbed his face, dragging his palm down.
"I didn't give that money to get anything back," he said.
She blinked. "I-- I know. That's not..."
"I gave it," he said again, cutting her off, "because your mother's my friend. Because you needed help. That was it. No strings."
She nodded fast. Too fast.
"I can pay it back," she said. "I mean... not now. But I can. With interest. I'll work. I'll find something. Maybe tutoring. Or waitressing. Just until I---"
He waved a hand.
"No," he said. "Don't do that."
"But I can," she said again, softer. "I don't mind. Really."
He stared at her.
"You're missing the point," he said.
Sakura looked confused. Or maybe scared. It was a thin line on her face right now.
"I didn't lend you anything," Khan said, his voice a little lower now. "I gave it. That means it's done. Over. I'm not keeping a tab."
She nodded again, even though she didn't look like she believed it.
"I can't give more like that," Khan said, eyes on the rim of his glass.
Sakura looked up slowly. Her mouth opened halfway like she wanted to ask what he meant, but the words didn't line up. Her hands clenched her bag. Her knees didn't stop pressing together. Ankles twisted tight under the coffee table.
He sat still, patient.
She flushed, shoulders curling in. She swallowed. Her hands twisted tighter in her lap. Her fingers pinched skin.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he added. "But I'm not a loan agency."
She nodded. Too fast. Way too fast. Her chest kept hitching on every inhale.
Khan leaned back, glass resting between his fingers.
"I'm not mad," he said. "Just honest."
Sakura nodded again. Then sat still. Then nodded one more time, as if her body was trying to buy time her brain hadn't figured out how to use.
"I can... I mean," she said, voice cracking around the words. "If there's something I can do."
She didn't look up when she said it. Just stared at the couch cushion, as if the upholstery might save her.
Khan didn't jump in. Didn't say a word. She kept going. Like her soul had already started slipping and her pride hadn't caught up yet.
"I don't want to just take," she said, quieter now. "I'm not... I wasn't raised like that."
Her hands unclenched. Slowly.
"I want to help," she said.
Khan tilted his head, as if curious
"How?"
Sakura flinched. That one question gutted her harder than any scolding ever could.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But... whatever you need."
Still not looking up. But her voice held. Just barely.
Khan took another sip. Then set the glass down on the table between them.
He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs.
"You offering something?" he asked.
"I..."
He waited. Head cocked slightly.
She bit her lip. Her eyes dropped lower, lower, past the floor. Past the carpet. Past her own comfort zone.
"I don't want my mom to suffer for me," she said.
Khan raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I asked."
She looked up then. Just for a second. Just long enough to meet his eyes.
And then she said it.
"Yes," Sakura whispered. "I'm offering."
Khan didn't move.
"What exactly are you offering, Sakura?"
Her mouth worked. No words came out.
"You wanna be useful?" he asked.
She nodded. She pulled the strap over her head, and set it beside her on the couch. Her fingers didn't leave the strap.
"You think I'm asking you to strip?" he asked.
Sakura flinched. "No-- I don't-- I wasn't---"
"Relax," he said, voice dry. "If I wanted that, I'd ask."
Her throat bobbed. Her eyes flicked to the bag, then the door.
"I have time," she said, blurting it out. "I have... my hands. I can clean. I can run errands. I can stay late if you need-"
Khan laughed. "You offering chores?"
"No-- I mean, yes, but---"
"Try again," he said.
Her eyes brimmed. With fear. With shame. With something she didn't want to name but couldn't pretend wasn't there.
She swallowed.
"I have myself," she said.
Khan didn't react. Not visibly.
He didn't reach for her.
He didn't say good girl.
Khan stood.
Sakura flinched again. He didn't touch her. Just walked past her, grabbed a fresh envelope from the drawer, slid it onto the coffee table.
"There," he said. "Enough for shoes. Maybe a coat, if you don't buy something stupid."
She stared at it. Didn't touch it.
"Take it," he said.
She reached out. Picked it up with both hands. Clutched it to her chest.
She then stood. Her legs shook.
She dropped to her knees, the skirt riding up around her thighs, one hand pressing down to keep it from slipping too far, the other bracing on his knee.