The staff meeting had started with the usual summer reports and statistics, the kind that blurred together into a monotone drone. Eraserhead felt his eyes growing heavy within minutes. The horribly bright ceiling lights didn’t help, they buzzed faintly, sterile and merciless, like Nezu had installed them personally just to spite his tired nature. He kept shifting in his seat to avoid looking straight up at them.

  Eventually, after the routine slog, Nezu clapped his paws together. The sharp little sound carried across the long conference table and pulled the teachers' attention toward him.

  "I think we need to acknowledge the growing unrest in our hero society ever since Stain’s ideology got published."

  That caused a few of the teachers to stir, posture tightening. Eraserhead’s gaze sharpened despite the fatigue pulling on him.

  "The crime rate in a lot of areas of Japan has increased slightly ever since that day," Nezu continued. "So I ask you all, as a school. What should we do?"

  Across the table, Vlad King raised his hand. "Prepare our newer students quicker," he said in a gruff voice. "Make them start their work studies as first years."

  "I disagree," All Might interjected.

  His voice carried a weight that didn’t match his gaunt frame, pulling every face at the table toward him. He leaned forward on the polished wood, elbows tense. "If anything, we should let the students make the most of this era of peace we're in."

  Vlad scoffed quietly, crossing his arms as he leveled a flat look at All Might. He didn’t need words to make his stance obvious.

  A few teachers nodded, others shook their heads subtly, the room splitting down an invisible ideological seam. Midnight spoke next. "That’s still not how we do things as teachers at U.A., All Might. I know you’re new here, but adapting is one of our strengths." Her sigh softened the words, her tone dim but not accusatory.

  "They’ve already been involved in two villain incidents, and have amassed substantial public attention," he retorted. His voice faltered slightly at the end, and several teachers sent him sharp looks, sensing the personal undertone.

  Eraserhead wasn’t among them. He knew exactly what All Might was getting at, and how close to home those worries hit. He couldn’t judge the man for being protective of his daughter. Still, the idea of becoming complacent with their students didn’t sit well with him.

  Present Mic cleared his throat. It wasn’t his usual volume, it was muted and controlled. Eraserhead recognized that distant look instantly.

  "Work studies do tend to be the most dangerous part of our curriculum," he said, his voice steady but stripped of its usual flamboyance.

  He continued. "It’s not unheard of for unprepared students to get heavily injured during them, or even lose their life."

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  The temperature in Eraserhead’s chest dropped. His eyes widened despite knowing exactly where Yamada was going. Hearing it aloud still froze him in place. His mind shot back to that rainy day, to that collapsed building, to the moment his friend left in an instant.

  Midnight’s eyes snapped toward Present Mic, sharp with warning. Her lip quivered for a second before she got it under control, but the tremor gave her away.

  The chill spreading from the three of them seeped through the room, turning the rest of the staff awkward and quiet. Chairs creaked, someone tapped a pen twice just to break the silence. Nezu ended it with another deliberate clap of his paws.

  "All of your points are valid. And I think acknowledging our past mistakes and tragedies is essential for the school’s success." His voice was calm, but something shifted in his expression, his eyes narrowing with a strangely pointed sharpness.

  "But I agree with All Might. Letting our failures as heroes affect our students' lives is not good. If anything, we should be trying to keep the peace even harder. We’re the face of hero schools in Japan. We can’t show the public that we’re nervous."

  Eraserhead raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t start demanding more of them on-campus, does it?"

  Nezu nodded, pointing between him and Vlad King. "As the first year’s homeroom teachers, I think both of you should focus on their individual growth a bit more. With safety in mind, of course."

  Eraserhead grinned slightly. That was good enough for him. His teaching style always leaned that way anyway, pushing students where it mattered instead of coddling them.

  The meeting ended soon after, chairs scraping back as most of the teachers filtered out in small clusters of tired conversation. In a matter of moments, the room thinned until only All Might and Nezu remained. The overhead lights hummed softly, the long table stretching out in front of them like a battlefield finally gone quiet.

  Nezu stayed perched in his chair beside him, speaking in a low, almost gentle tone. "By the way, how has Robinn been doing recently?"

  All Might let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking as if the weight of the whole room settled on him. "She's been willing to talk to me less and less, and I’ve not been able to really read her recently, but she doesn’t seem to be doing bad. Something changed in her." His hand rose to his forehead, rubbing slow circles as he spoke.

  Nezu’s eyes narrowed. Then he stood up in his chair, tiny but imposing as he pointed at All Might in sharp accusation. "You didn’t take my advice, did you?"

  All Might slumped instantly, gaze dropping to the polished table. "It’s not like I didn’t, it’s just… you try dealing with a teenage girl, especially Robinn. It’s harder than hero work." The sigh that followed was long, weary, and utterly defeated.

  "Didn’t you say you’d talk to her?" All Might asked next, looking up at him with a mix of hope and embarrassment.

  "I did... but I haven’t had the opportunity yet. Do you think she’d be okay coming to U.A. for a talk?" Nezu leaned back against the tall chair’s backrest despite still standing on the seat, posture casual in a way only he could pull off.

  All Might’s expression lifted slightly, a faint spark of confidence returning as he latched onto something concrete. His voice warmed. "She should be doing work in the garden in like thirty minutes. I do know that at least."

  Nezu smiled, a bright little expression full of plans, and jumped down from the chair without making more than a soft tap on the floor. "Great! I’ll have a chat with her there then."

  The small rodent strode confidently out of the meeting room, feet pattering lightly until the door clicked shut behind him.

  All Might was left alone, the silence settling around him like fog.

  "I’m a mess," he muttered, pulling out a new parenting book he’d picked up earlier. He flipped through it with slumped shoulders, scanning useless paragraphs that didn’t offer anything close to a solution for his very specific, very impossible situation.