He couldn't let his toys get destroyed before he tasted them. Ever since reborning this world, he has been dreaming of Momo's tongue wrapped around his cock. Or Mina's tits bouncing while she moaned his name. Or Jirou, breathless with her earjacks wrapped around her own neck like a leash. That was the goal.
And it was wasted if they died screaming next to Mineta.
So he'd let the trauma hit. Then he'd be there. Soft words. Calm voice. Open door. "It's okay to cry. You're not weak. You're human."
Momo would fold the second she realized her Quirk couldn't fix a bleeding friend. Mina would bounce between jokes and guilt, then land square in his office pretending she was fine while shaking.
Then came the wildcard.
Midoriya fucking Izuku.
Taking Midoriya to USJ would fix a lot.
Too much, maybe. He could see it play out if he let himself. A whisper in All Might's ear. Something gentle. Something wrapped in concern. The kid's struggling. He needs exposure. He needs confidence. He needs to feel included. One field trip. One chance to prove he belongs. All Might would eat that up and thank him for the spoon.
But the spotlight would be brutal. USJ was not a quiet place. Cameras, reports, after-action briefings, medical logs, hero oversight, police statements, villain interrogations if anyone lived long enough to talk. You didn't sneak an extra variable into that mess without someone noticing. One wrong question, one name out of place, and suddenly Khan was explaining why a General Ed student ended up in a combat zone.
Too early.
Way too early.
He shut the tablet off and let it thunk onto the desk.
That rat bastard smiled too much. Smarter than the most staff combined and bored enough to pull threads just to see where they led. Hinting anything to him was suicide dressed up as collaboration. One odd sentence, one sideways glance, and Nezu would start counting steps backward until he found the source.
Nope.
Hard pass.
Nemuri Kayama came to mind. She'd invited him out. That alone was weird.
He hadn't chased her. Hadn't lingered. Hadn't done the usual staff room dance where idiots tried to impress her with bad jokes and worse confidence. He treated her the same way he treated everyone else. Polite. Present. Gone before anyone could build a story about him.
And still she asked.
Could be nothing. Could be boredom. Could be curiosity. His stats had been ticking upward lately, the System nudging numbers in places that changed how people leaned in when he spoke. Allure without effort was dangerous. You didn't notice it until you were already knee-deep in someone else's attention.
Or she wanted something.
He stood, shrugged into his jacket, and checked the time. Plenty of room before the meet. He locked the office and headed out, passing a few teachers packing up. Someone argued about grading. Someone else complained about vending machines eating coins.
**
The bar Nemuri picked sat exactly where she would pick one. Dark wood, low lighting, loud enough to blur conversations but quiet enough to hear. No windows worth looking out of. Three blocks from campus, close enough to be convenient, far enough to feel separate.
She was already there when he walked in, sitting at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, boot hooked on the rung, jacket slung over the back of the stool. She glanced sideways when he came in, eyes dragging over him, then back to her drink.
Khan took the stool beside her and waited. Bartender came fast. Nemuri must've tipped well. Who he was kidding, the man probably looked for an excuse to breathe the same air with her.
"Whiskey," Khan said. "Neat."
Nemuri snorted. "You don't strike me as a whiskey guy."
"You don't strike me as psychic."
She laughed. "Fair."
They clinked glasses then drank.
"You really showed," she said, setting it down with a soft thud. "Didn't think you'd bite."
"You said dress nice," Khan replied, tugging the cuff of his jacket. "This is my version."
She side-eyed his button-up.
"Not bad," she said, smirking. She tipped her glass toward the bartender, who was already eyeing her.
Khan didn't look at him. Kept his eyes on her.
"I thought you were allergic to staff bonding," she said, swirling her drink. "You dodge the lounge like it's got STDs."
"It does. Mostly ego."
She snorted into her glass. "Okay, I'll give you that."
The bartender dropped another round. She didn't thank him. Khan did. That earned him a look.
"Look, I'll be honest," Khan said, putting on that polite mask that always sat too easy on his face. "I don't like talking work when I'm out. It's one of the reasons I avoid the lounge. Gossip, assumptions... makes my job harder than it needs to be."
He sipped his drink.
"I'm sure you don't wanna talk about it either," he added. "So how about we speak about literally anything else?"
Nemuri smiled over her glass. "That's what I was about to say."
He let out a laugh, "Good. Then I'll ask the obvious. Where're you from?"
She raised a brow. "That's your opening?"
He shrugged. Sipped again. "I'd like to know you better. Sue me."
Nemuri leaned an elbow on the bar. "You read people for a living, and that's what you start with?"
"It works better than 'what's your trauma?' and doesn't end with HR on my back."
She laughed.
"I grew up in Hokkaido. Tiny town. One grocery store, two drunks, and a vending machine that sold more cigarettes than snacks."
"That why you grew up hot and pissed off?"
"Damn right." She tossed back her drink and waved for another. "Nothing to do there but fight, fuck, or move."
"Which one were you best at?"
She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "Depends on the decade."
Khan grinned into his glass. "I like that answer."
She took her refill when it came, tapped her nail against the rim, then looked at him again. "Your turn."
"Born in Tokyo. Raised in an apartment that had a front door, a leaking ceiling, and one window that never opened."
"Sounds cozy."
He nodded. "Yeah. The rats were friendly. Family wasn't."
Nemuri didn't ask. Just lifted her glass.
"To bad childhoods," she said.
Khan clinked his to hers. "To profitable damage."
She snorted. "Okay, that's good."
"I'm writing a memoir. Working title's Grew Up Fucked and Made It Someone Else's Problem."
She laughed too hard at that. Almost choked on her drink.
"I'd buy that," she coughed.
"You'd be chapter four."
Nemuri raised an eyebrow. "Only chapter four?"
"Chapter one's a toaster oven catching fire during a domestic. Gotta ease into you."
She tilted her head back, laughed loud enough the bartender peeked up from polishing glasses. She waved him off with a flick.
"Fuck, you're weird."
"Good weird or HR weird?"
"Both. But I'm off the clock, so it's fine."
Khan nodded. "Noted. I'll start recording again tomorrow."
She took another sip, then leaned in slightly.
"You're not what I expected," she said.
"What did you expect?"
"Quiet. Nervous. Sweaty around women."
Khan tilted his head. "You're describing Present Mic."
She almost spat her drink.
"God, don't say that while I'm drinking. I've seen that man try to flirt. It's like watching a karaoke machine get rejected."
Khan chuckled. "I've seen him get shut down by a water fountain."
She smirked. "You ever get shut down?"
"Once," he said. "Turned out the girl was blind and thought I was someone else."
Nemuri choked again.
"You're such an asshole."
"I was polite about it."
"No you weren't."
"No, I wasn't."
The drinks kept coming. She was angled close to him. Shoulders open, leg tucked closer, drink held loose like it might fall if he asked the right question.
Khan stayed where he was. Let her talk.
"You ever sleep with staff?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Never."
"You gonna start?"
He looked at her.
"I'm not in a rush to fuck up a good job," he said. "Even if the scenery's better than most porn sets."
She snorted. "Nice save."
"It's not a save. You're hot, Nemuri. That's not news. But I like the paycheck more than I like the idea of waking up in your apartment with claw marks on my back and a lecture from Nezu."
She smiled. "Claw marks are optional."
"I doubt that."
She leaned in a little more. Her drink was nearly empty. Her hair framed her face in a way that made men lose cars and custody battles.
"You saying no?" she asked, voice lower.
"I'm saying not yet."
She blinked.
Then smirked.
"Smart man."
Khan glanced down at his glass. Then back at her.
"You drink like a pro," he said. "What else are you good at?"
She smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
He nodded. "I would."
Then, straight-faced, "I'm not just into S&M."
Nemuri blinked. Smile hiccuped. "Meh. Boring."
Khan shrugged. "I'm vanilla. Sorry to disappoint."
Her brows lifted. "You say that like you're proud."
He didn't flinch. "I like looking into a woman's eyes when I'm inside her. Feeling the closeness we built. Hormones blowing up. Emotions twisting into each other. The heat. The breath. That second where it's not about dominance or submission, it's about losing yourself in the one person who won't look away."