Shota Aizawa didn’t like being pulled away from his actual responsibilities, and yet here he was—dragged into Endeavor’s agency for something that already felt like a colossal waste of his time. Some low-level villain had been caught, dragged through the courts, and come out the other side without prison time. No fatalities, just damage and fear left in their wake. Instead of serving a sentence, they’d been handed a “second chance” under the laughable notion of reform. And apparently, someone on the commission thought he was the one to make that happen.

Ridiculous. He barely had enough energy to manage the thirty reckless kids he called students, let alone babysit a criminal who’d already proven they had no regard for society. He wasn’t a rehabilitation program; he was a hero and an educator, with better things to do than play counselor to someone who might never change.

Dragging his scarf behind him, Aizawa followed the sterile halls until he reached the interrogation block. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, making his already pounding headache worse. A single guard stood at attention outside one of the reinforced doors, posture stiff. Aizawa gave a curt nod, the kind that passed for acknowledgment in his world, and pressed his hand against the door.

He exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking in an internal sigh he didn’t bother disguising. Whatever mess waited for him on the other side of this room, it was one more chore added to a list already too long. Still, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.