Enough

The air inside the small udon shop was warm and comforting, the soft chatter of other patrons blending with the clinking of bowls and chopsticks. The smell of rich broth and freshly made noodles filled the space, though Y/N barely noticed. She sat back in her chair, her hands wrapped loosely around the coffee cup she’d been nursing for the better part of an hour. The steam curled up toward her face, fogging her vision as she stared into the dark liquid, her thoughts swirling as aimlessly as the rising vapor.  

Across from her, Izuku was finishing his second bowl of udon, his usual enthusiasm as bright as ever as he shared the latest details about his hero training. Y/N had been quiet for most of the meal, letting him dominate the conversation, which seemed to suit him just fine.  

“And then Yaga-sensei told me to focus on my footwork,” Izuku said between bites, his voice brimming with excitement. “I didn’t realize how important it was until he demonstrated. I mean, he moves so fast you can barely keep up! It’s amazing.”  

Yaga, who sat beside him, gave a small grunt of acknowledgment but otherwise remained focused on his own meal. His presence was quieter than Izuku’s, but no less significant. Every now and then, Y/N could feel his gaze shift to her, observing her with that sharp, calculating look that she was starting to recognize as a habit of his.  

The weight of his attention made her uneasy, but she kept her expression neutral, refusing to let him see just how unsettled she felt. She’d dealt with people like Yaga before—people who noticed too much and said too little. They were dangerous in their own way, though she doubted he had any ill intent.  

Y/N sighed softly, lowering her cup to the table and staring at it for a moment. She didn’t know why she felt the urge to speak, but before she could stop herself, the words spilled out.  

“I moved to a high-rise apartment recently,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. She glanced up, meeting Izuku’s curious eyes before shifting her gaze briefly to Yaga. “My brother and I… had a falling out. Since I’m an adult now, I decided to move out. It just felt like the right thing to do.”  

Her voice faltered slightly as memories surfaced, but she quickly blinked them away, taking another sip of coffee to mask the emotion threatening to creep into her expression. She didn’t want to delve into the details, especially not here, in front of Yaga. It was enough to mention the split and move on.  

Izuku set down his chopsticks, his bright smile fading into a look of concern. “Y/N… I’m really sorry to hear that. But… are you okay? I mean, with everything that’s happened?” His voice was soft, filled with genuine worry, and it made her chest ache.  

Y/N forced a small, tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine,” she replied, her tone calm but distant. “Really. It’s just been… a lot. But I’m handling it.”  

She hoped the answer would be enough to satisfy him. She didn’t want to go deeper, didn’t want to talk about how lonely the apartment felt at night, or how the silence sometimes became so loud that it felt suffocating.  

Izuku hesitated, clearly wanting to press further, but he seemed to sense that she wasn’t ready to talk. Instead, he gave her a small nod, his expression softening into one of quiet support.  

The conversation drifted into silence for a while, the hum of the restaurant filling the space between them. Y/N took the moment to let her mind wander, her thoughts straying to the future. The uncertainty she felt was almost unbearable at times, especially when it came to her next steps.  

She hadn’t received her letter yet. The exam results that would determine whether she’d been accepted into the business school were still hanging in limbo, and the waiting was eating away at her. She’d poured so much of herself into preparing for this opportunity, and the thought of failing was almost too much to bear.  

Yaga’s voice broke through her thoughts, low and steady, with a tone that carried an unexpected certainty. “You got in,” he said simply, as though it were a statement of fact rather than a possibility.  

Y/N blinked, startled. She hadn’t mentioned anything about the letter, nor had she shared her worries with anyone except Izuku. For a moment, she wondered if Yaga had read her mind.  

Her brows furrowed slightly, and she tilted her head in skepticism. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice laced with doubt. “I mean… I haven’t even heard back yet.”  

Yaga met her gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. “You’ll get your letter soon,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Trust me. You’ve already made it.”  

There was something about the way he said it, so calm and assured, that made her pause. She wanted to believe him, but part of her couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so certain. She studied his face for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none.  

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft as she offered him a polite but guarded smile. “Thank you.”  

Yaga gave a small nod, satisfied, and returned to his meal without another word.  

Izuku, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and relief, grinned brightly. “See, Y/N? Yaga-sensei knows what he’s talking about! You’re going to get in—I just know it.”  

Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile at his enthusiasm. She wanted to share his optimism, to believe that everything would fall into place. For now, she decided to let it go, to hold onto the hope that Yaga’s confidence had sparked in her.  

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, with Izuku eagerly recounting another training story while Y/N listened quietly. She wasn’t much of a talker today, but that was fine. Izuku’s voice filled the air, his laughter bubbling up as he described a mishap involving a rogue training robot.  

For a brief moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax, to enjoy the warmth of their company and the comforting atmosphere of the udon shop. The worries that had been weighing her down seemed a little less heavy, and though she still felt the lingering ache of uncertainty, she found solace in the knowledge that she wasn’t alone.  

As the meal wound down, Y/N took one last sip of her now-cold coffee, setting the cup down with a quiet sigh. There was still so much she didn’t know, so much she couldn’t control. But for now, she was surrounded by friends—one who radiated boundless hope and another who offered quiet assurance.  

And for now, that was enough.  

Yagi Toshinori stood outside the warm glow of the udon restaurant, the soft chatter of diners and the clinking of bowls echoing faintly behind him. The crisp evening air brushed against his face as he adjusted his scarf, his tired gaze following the figures of Izuku Midoriya and Y/N as they walked down opposite streets, parting ways. The sight left a bittersweet tug at his chest. There had been something about their interaction—something unspoken yet deeply meaningful—that lingered in his thoughts long after they were out of sight.  

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his fingers briefly grazing the edges of the scarred skin that framed his gaunt face. It had been a brief conversation over bowls of steaming udon, but the implications of what he had learned were enough to leave his mind spinning.  

Midoriya had always had a way of drawing remarkable people toward him, and Y/N was no exception. The quiet but sharp young woman had caught the attention of UA’s principal, Nezu, long before Toshinori had even met her. He’d heard her name murmured in faculty meetings, always accompanied by a sense of awe. Y/N L/N wasn’t a hero in the traditional sense—far from it. She didn’t possess a flashy quirk or physical prowess that could turn the tide in a fight. But her intellect? Her strategic mind? Those were powers in their own right, ones that many underestimated in a world so enamored with physical abilities.  

She was a prodigy, and not just in academics. Y/N had been the first—and only—applicant to score a perfect result on UA’s notoriously grueling business entrance exam. It was a feat so unprecedented that even Nezu, with all his wisdom and eccentricity, had been stunned into silence. On top of that, she was the sole recipient of a letter of recommendation from a hero—a rarity for someone entering the business track instead of the hero course. Toshinori couldn’t help but feel a twinge of respect for her. She had already achieved what most would consider impossible, and she was still at the very beginning of her journey.  

But what truly intrigued him wasn’t her intellect or her accomplishments. It was her connection to Midoriya.  

Toshinori couldn’t deny the bond between the two. Izuku spoke about Y/N with a kind of reverence that was rare, even for him. There was an unmistakable protectiveness in the way he had introduced her earlier that evening, as if she were someone he deeply valued and wanted the world to see as he did. Toshinori chuckled softly at the memory. Midoriya had always had a knack for finding people destined for greatness, and Y/N was no exception.  

Even so, Toshinori couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her story—something she wasn’t sharing. She had been polite, almost guarded, throughout their brief conversation. While her words were thoughtful and measured, there had been a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Was it hesitation? Pain?  

As Toshinori stood there, lost in thought, he replayed her quiet admission in his mind.  

“I moved to a high-rise apartment recently,” she had said, her voice steady but soft. “My brother and I… had a falling out. Since I’m an adult now, I decided to move out. It just felt like the right thing to do.”  

She hadn’t elaborated, but Toshinori didn’t need her to. He could hear the weight behind those words, the strain of someone trying to carry more than they should have to. He wondered what had caused the rift between her and her brother, but he knew better than to pry. Whatever had happened, it had left her standing on her own, charting a path forward with little more than sheer will and determination.  

Toshinori sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. He’d seen that look before—the guarded expression of someone who had been through more than they let on. It was the same look Midoriya had worn during their earliest meetings, back when he was a quirkless boy with dreams too big for his small frame. And just like with Midoriya, Toshinori couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility toward Y/N.  

She wasn’t a hero in the traditional sense, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t change the world.  

The thought lingered in his mind as he started walking, his steps slow and deliberate. Y/N had the kind of mind that could see through chaos and find order. She was the sort of person who could strategize, plan, and execute with precision—a skill that was desperately needed in a world often consumed by flashy battles and public spectacles. Toshinori could already see the potential paths ahead of her, each one brighter than the last.  

She could become a leader, not on the battlefield, but behind the scenes. Heroes, for all their strength and courage, needed people like Y/N—people who could think three steps ahead and find solutions that brute force couldn’t achieve.  

As Toshinori considered the possibilities, an idea began to form. What if he offered her a role in the hero world once she graduated? Not as a hero, but as a strategist, someone who could work with agencies to coordinate operations, manage resources, and even influence policy. It wasn’t the kind of path most people envisioned when they thought of UA graduates, but it was one that could make a profound impact.  

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Y/N didn’t need to be in the spotlight to make a difference. In fact, her talents might shine even brighter in the background, where her intellect could be fully utilized without the distractions of fame or glory.  

Still, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that she was holding something back. There was a shadow of uncertainty in her demeanor, a quiet hesitation that hinted at unresolved struggles. Toshinori wondered if she was running from something—or someone.  

He stopped at the corner of the street, the bustling city lights reflecting in his tired eyes. It wasn’t his place to dig into her past, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought that she might need help, even if she didn’t ask for it.  

“Everyone has their own battles,” he muttered to himself, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets.  

As he resumed walking, a small smile tugged at his lips. The future felt brighter, somehow, with people like Y/N and Midoriya in it. They were two sides of the same coin—one driven by an unyielding heart, the other guided by a brilliant mind.  

Toshinori resolved to keep an eye on Y/N, not out of pity, but out of respect. She didn’t need anyone to save her, but she might need someone to open a door or lend a hand along the way. And if he could be that person, he would gladly do so.  

As he approached his agency, the glow of the city lights illuminating his path, Toshinori felt a renewed sense of purpose. The next generation of heroes—and those who supported them—was already proving to be extraordinary. And Y/N L/N, despite everything she had endured, was bound to be a part of that extraordinary future.  

Y/N pushed open the door to Hawks' apartment, the familiar scent of wood and citrus greeting her senses as she stepped inside. The silence felt oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. Hawks had been away on business, leaving the apartment empty, just as it had been when she left. The place was as tidy as always, the minimalist décor a reflection of his personality—clean lines, soft colors, and subtle hints of his vibrant, chaotic energy hidden in the small details.

She slipped off her shoes, the soft click of them against the floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet space. Her mind was still racing from the events of the day, her thoughts bouncing between Izuku, her brother, and the uncertainty surrounding her future. She needed to ground herself, to refocus. Coffee. A cup of coffee always did the trick. It had become a ritual of sorts for her over the years—her one constant in an otherwise unpredictable life.  

Y/N walked into the kitchen, her footsteps light but purposeful. She reached for the coffee maker, running her fingers over the smooth surface. The sound of the water filling the kettle brought her a sense of calm, the familiar motion soothing her as she worked. The quiet hum of the machine was a stark contrast to the pounding in her chest.  

As the coffee brewed, Y/N let her mind wander to the letter she had received earlier. It had arrived just after she'd stepped out of the train station, tucked under the door, a pristine envelope with the familiar insignia of UA High School embossed on the front. It had been addressed to her—Y/N L/N—and even now, holding it in her hands, the words from the letter seemed to echo in her mind.

The letter had been brief, but its weight carried more significance than anything she had received in a long time.

"Dear Y/N L/N,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for a final interview for the Business Entrance Program at UA. Please join us at 9 AM tomorrow for this interview. We look forward to discussing your future at UA with you.

Sincerely,  
Nezu  
Principal, UA High School."

The words had barely sunk in before her fingers were already tearing open the envelope, the contents spilling out onto the table before her. A small, square device—a tiny, sleek black box—fell out, and she couldn't help but frown as she picked it up. It was an odd thing to include, she thought, but as she held it, the device flickered to life. A hologram of Nezu’s smiling face appeared before her, his warm, welcoming voice filling the room.

“Ah, Y/N! So glad to have you here. Congratulations on making it to this stage,” Nezu’s voice echoed softly, his ever-present cheerfulness seeming to balance out the underlying seriousness of his tone. “We’ve been following your progress with great interest, and we believe you have the potential to excel in our program. Tomorrow at 9 AM, we’ll be holding a final interview to ensure that you’re the perfect fit for the business school. We look forward to seeing you then.”

The hologram flickered out as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the lingering hum of the device in her hand. The apartment was quiet again, the weight of Nezu’s words settling in the space between her and the empty room. 

Y/N stood frozen, the coffee machine now forgotten. Her heart thudded in her chest, an uneasy feeling spreading through her as she processed the implications of what she’d just heard. A final interview. It wasn’t a guarantee of admission; she knew that. But it was one step closer to her goal, one step closer to the future she had worked so hard to build. The idea of UA was still surreal—this institution had been a distant dream for her until recently, but now it was so close. The reality of what lay ahead, however, felt intimidating.

She stared at the spot where the hologram had been, her breath catching in her throat. The idea of an interview was nothing new. She had been through countless interviews before—after all, her life had often revolved around proving herself, carving her own path in a world that didn’t always understand her. But this… this felt different. The scrutiny, the judgment, the questions about her worth—it all loomed over her now.  

Her eyes narrowed as she clenched the letter in her hand. A part of her felt a rush of exhilaration at the opportunity. It had taken years of effort—years of studying, refining, learning everything she could about business, about strategy, about what it meant to navigate a world that placed so much emphasis on quirks. And now, it seemed like that work might finally pay off. She had always known that her intellect was her greatest strength. Yet, the thought of having someone—let alone the entire panel at UA—scrutinize her, measure her against their standards, made her stomach churn. 

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if to dispel the anxiety. No. She wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not when she had come this far. It wasn’t just about the interview or UA anymore; it was about proving to herself that she had what it took, that she belonged in that space.  

The coffee machine let out a final puff, signaling that her drink was ready. She quickly poured the dark liquid into her favorite mug—black, no sugar, no milk, just the way she liked it. The rich aroma filled the air, and for a moment, Y/N let herself sink into the simplicity of the ritual. She took a deep breath, the warmth of the cup in her hands offering a brief moment of comfort. 

“Tomorrow…” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely more than a whisper. The word felt heavy in her mouth, but also brimming with potential. Tomorrow would be the start of something. Tomorrow, she would take the next step.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away with relentless precision. She had only a few hours to prepare, but the weight of the moment made time feel like it was slipping away faster than she could grasp it. The apartment felt smaller somehow, the pressure mounting as the day ahead loomed large.

Y/N took a long sip from her mug, the bitter taste of the coffee grounding her for the moment. She would not let fear control her. She had worked too hard for this opportunity to let self-doubt undermine it now. No matter how intimidating or nerve-wracking the interview would be, she knew one thing for sure—she would give it everything she had.

She placed the mug down and turned her attention back to the letter. Tomorrow wasn’t just another day; it was the beginning of the rest of her life. She had to be ready.

With that thought in mind, Y/N let out a slow, steadying breath. Tomorrow was coming, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

Her eyes hardened with resolve as she picked up her laptop, pulling up her notes and preparing to review everything she could before the interview. It was going to be a long night, but she was ready for it.

Y/N stood in front of the towering, sleek structure of the UA Business School building, the morning sun casting long shadows on the ground. She felt the weight of the moment pressing on her shoulders. It had been a sleepless night, filled with pacing, last-minute preparations, and moments of self-doubt. But today was the day. Today was her final interview for the Business Entrance Program, and she couldn’t afford to be anything less than ready. 

Her stomach growled in protest, but she ignored it. There was no time for food now—not when she had something so important ahead of her. She hadn't eaten since the night before, relying on her usual morning fix: a cup of strong black coffee. That was all she needed to push her through. The caffeine buzz, the sharpness it gave her, would carry her through the next few hours. No distractions. No weaknesses. 

She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. The building stood like a monument to success and prestige, its clean lines and glass windows reflecting the early morning light. The sound of bustling students and staff filled the air as she approached the entrance. The doors were heavy, but she pushed them open with ease, stepping into the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere of the lobby. It was a stark contrast to the sticky heat of the outside world. Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the polished marble floors, following the signs that pointed her toward the interview room. 

The building was immaculate—each hallway a blur of neutral tones and modern artwork on the walls, radiating the sense that this place was designed to impress. Y/N’s stomach clenched again, though this time it was from the weight of the expectation, not hunger. Her path was clear, but the uncertainty of what awaited her in the interview room gnawed at her. She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t have a quirk. She didn’t have a lineage of heroes behind her, or even a natural knack for business. All she had was sheer determination—and that might not be enough.

She arrived at the door of the interview room, its bold sign reading “Business Program Interview Room.” Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a strange combination of fear and anticipation. Her palms were clammy, but she took another deep breath and stepped inside. 

A receptionist sat behind a sleek desk, smiling warmly at her. “Y/N L/N? Please check in, and have a seat. The interview will begin shortly.”

Y/N nodded politely, setting her bag down on a nearby chair. She approached the desk, checking in with her name and confirming the details of the interview. The receptionist gestured toward the waiting area, a quiet space filled with plush chairs. Y/N took a seat, folding her hands in her lap, but her mind was racing. Every moment that passed seemed to drag her deeper into the pit of anxiety. 

The silence in the room was broken only by the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional footsteps from the hallway outside. Y/N forced herself to keep calm, reminding herself that she had prepared for this moment. Her strategy, her ideas, her plan—it had all been rehearsed in her mind a thousand times. She just needed to execute it. 

But there was still a part of her that felt small. Everyone else applying had something she didn’t. A quirk. A connection. A legacy. Yet, she had made it this far. The letter she received from Nezu had been a surprise, but it also gave her a sense of validation. This was her moment to prove herself, to show that she was capable of more than just her limitations. 

She glanced down at the time on her phone. She was early, which gave her a moment to center herself before the inevitable. 

Then the door opened, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. 

Y/N stood up as Principal Nezu entered the room, his presence commanding and sharp despite his diminutive animalistic appearance. The large, round ears atop his head, and his slightly snouted face, seemed almost comical to anyone who didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. But Y/N knew better. Nezu wasn’t just a figurehead; he was an intelligent, strategic force in his own right, and his decisions shaped the future of the institution.

“Ah, Y/N L/N,” Nezu greeted her, his voice warm but precise, as if every word was carefully chosen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I trust you’re ready for the interview?”

Y/N took a steady breath. “Yes, Principal Nezu. I’m ready.”

Nezu’s smile was kind, but there was an edge to it. “Let’s begin, then. We’ll start with something simple. What do you think is the most important aspect of a successful business?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Adaptability. The world of business is ever-changing, and the most successful businesses are the ones that can pivot in response to shifts in the market, consumer behavior, or even societal trends. Innovation and foresight are essential, but adaptability is the foundation of long-term success.”

Nezu nodded, tapping his fingers lightly on the table as he considered her words. “A solid answer. But tell me—how would you handle a situation where your company’s future is at risk? Would you be willing to make sacrifices, perhaps ethical ones, to protect the business?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly, but her expression remained calm. She had expected this. Nezu was known for testing candidates in ways that revealed their true character.

“My integrity is non-negotiable,” Y/N responded, keeping her voice steady. “There are always alternatives, even in the most dire circumstances. Sacrificing ethics for profit may provide short-term relief, but it will ruin a company in the long run.”

Nezu’s gaze shifted, assessing her with an unreadable expression. “Interesting. What if your partners or stakeholders disagree? How would you persuade them to follow your ethical lead when they’re driven by profit?”

“I’d show them the long-term benefits of maintaining strong ethical practices—how it builds trust, loyalty, and a positive reputation. If they refuse to see that, then they’re not the right partners for the business.”

Nezu smiled slightly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Principled. I like that. Now, let’s consider a more practical situation. You have a product that could be extremely profitable, but it could harm your company’s reputation if exposed. What would you do? Continue with the product, or pull it back?”

Y/N didn’t flinch. “I wouldn’t risk my company’s reputation for short-term gain. Trust is everything in business, and once it’s broken, it’s hard to rebuild. I would choose to pull the product.”

Nezu leaned back in his chair, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Very good. Now, tell me, why do you want to pursue a business path, especially when others may choose to follow the traditional path of becoming a hero?”

Y/N met his gaze firmly. “Because the world needs more than just heroes who fight villains. It needs people who understand how to build, lead, and make decisions that create lasting change. I want to be part of that change.”

Nezu’s expression softened, a rare moment of warmth slipping through. “Well said, Y/N. You’ve given me much to think about. You’ll receive our results soon. But I must admit, I’m quite impressed.”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her, though she kept her composure. The interview was over, but she knew it wasn’t just about the answers. It was about how she had handled the pressure—and she had done it. 

As Nezu stood to leave, he glanced back at her one last time. “I expect great things from you, Y/N L/N. Welcome to the future of UA.”

Y/N watched him leave, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. Whatever came next, she had proven herself.

Y/N stretched her arms high above her head as she stepped out of the sleek UA Business Building, the cool morning air filling her lungs. The bright rays of the sun filtered through the leaves of the nearby trees, casting dancing shadows on the sidewalk. Her body felt physically drained after the exhausting interview, but her mind buzzed with thoughts of what had just transpired. The weight of the interview was finally lifted from her shoulders, and she could feel the tension slowly melting away.

She had been running on adrenaline for so long that it seemed surreal to finally be done with it. The entire morning had been a blur—her nervous energy propelling her forward as she made her way into the building. But now, with the last words of the principal still ringing in her ears, she could finally let her guard down, if only for a moment. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling lightly as she walked, the thought of finally being free to focus on her life outside of the business world dancing in her mind.

She had planned on heading back to her apartment to relax for the rest of the day, maybe grab a bite to eat, and finally give herself a much-needed break from the chaos of the past few weeks. But as she rounded the corner near the entrance of the building, her footsteps came to an abrupt halt. A solid figure blocked her path, and she stumbled slightly, her heel catching on a crack in the pavement.

“Ah, sorry!” she blurted instinctively, quickly taking a step back to avoid crashing into the stranger.

The man, tall and broad, didn’t seem to mind the collision. He merely glanced at her with mild amusement. “It’s quite alright,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. His tone was calm, reassuring, but there was an undeniable familiarity in it that made Y/N freeze. She looked up slowly, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes locked onto his face.

Y/N’s mind raced as she searched for the connection. The man’s features were more defined now, and despite his imposing presence, his face was unmistakable. The memory clicked into place with a sharp clarity. This was the same man she had encountered the other day, the one who had been the subject of a strange, cryptic conversation. She had almost forgotten about him in the whirlwind of the interview, but now, standing before him, the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“Wait… you’re the scrawny man from the other day,” she said, blinking in surprise. She quickly corrected herself as she realized the awkwardness of her statement. “Sorry, I mean—you’re a teacher? At UA?”

The man’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile, his eyes softening as he acknowledged her recognition. “Indeed, I am,” he said, his voice carrying a slight chuckle. “I teach the Heroics course, though I suppose my appearance didn’t exactly convey that the other day.”

Y/N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—she had thought he was just some random person passing through, perhaps with ties to the students. But now that she knew he was a teacher, it made sense in a way. His frail appearance might have been misleading, but the aura of authority he carried with him was undeniable.

“I—uh—didn’t expect that,” she admitted, trying to keep the awkwardness from her voice. She opened her mouth to say something else when a sudden, sharp scent reached her nose. It was faint, but unmistakable: the unmistakable, metallic tang of blood. Her eyes shifted instinctively to his face. Sure enough, there was a faint smear of crimson at the corner of his mouth. It didn’t look like a casual accident. Something about it struck her as odd.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing right away. Her instincts kicked in, and without thinking, she reached into her bag and pulled out a handkerchief. It was a small, neatly folded one, embroidered with her initials in one corner. She hesitated briefly, glancing down at it for a moment. This handkerchief had been a gift from her father years ago, something she cherished and rarely let out of her possession. But something about the man’s presence, combined with the blood at his mouth, urged her to act.

“Here,” she said, holding it out toward him. “For… the blood around your mouth.”

Yaga blinked in surprise at her observation. His gaze lingered on the handkerchief for a moment, but he accepted it with a quiet nod, his bony fingers brushing against hers as he took it. “Ah, thank you,” he said softly, dabbing at the corner of his mouth. “I must apologize if I’ve alarmed you. It’s nothing serious, I assure you.”

Despite his reassurance, Y/N couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at her. Something about the situation felt off. The blood wasn’t a mere accident—it had an intentional quality to it. But instead of pressing further, she decided to take him at his word for now. He wasn’t being hostile, after all, and he seemed genuinely grateful for the gesture.

“Just make sure you don’t bleed on anyone else,” she said lightly, though there was an edge of concern in her tone. It wasn’t that she thought he would be dangerous, but the situation was beginning to raise more questions than answers.

Yaga chuckled softly, slipping the handkerchief into his pocket with careful movements. “You’re quite observant,” he remarked, his voice lighter now. “But I suppose that’s fitting, given the business path you’ve chosen. Observation is a critical skill in that field.”

Y/N shrugged, her face neutral as she glanced down at her shoes. “I guess so,” she said nonchalantly, though inwardly she was still focused on the blood she had noticed. “Anyway, I’ll take it back later. Don’t lose it.”

“Of course,” Yaga replied, his tone sincere. “Thank you again, Y/N. And congratulations on completing your interview. I trust you’ll do great things here.”

The conversation ended as quickly as it had started. Yaga gave her a small, respectful nod before turning to walk away. His frail form disappeared down the path toward the side of the building, leaving Y/N standing there, her thoughts swirling. She watched him for a moment, but something deep inside her told her not to linger too long in his presence. The strange, unsettling feeling in her gut refused to fade.

Shaking her head, Y/N sighed, brushing aside the lingering doubts. She couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about strange teachers, especially when there were so many other things on her plate. The interview had been the focus of the day, and now that it was over, she could finally give herself the space to breathe.

Turning on her heel, Y/N began to walk back toward the city. Her mind still buzzed with thoughts of the future, of what would come next. But as her footsteps echoed in the quiet morning, one question lingered: who was Yaga Toshinori, really, and what secrets was he hiding behind that smile?

If I wrote a Yandere!Sugar Daddy/Mommy! Pro Heroes x Reader fanfic, would you read it? Getting the itch to write one.