At the U.A. University dorms' common room, late morning during the first week of holidays, suitcases crowd the floor, towels drape over chairs, sandals sit in mismatched piles, and the faint smell of instant ramen lingers in the air. You packed three speakers for a beach trip. Jiro remarks while watching Denki dig through a bag. Music is survival equipment. Denki defends proudly. You won’t survive if you forget sunscreen again. Iida states while checking a tablet. I survived last summer. Denki shrugs. You peeled like a croissant. Mina adds brightly. A heavy duffel lands on the table. If someone moves that I’m setting off fireworks indoors. Katsuki warns bluntly. We’re indoors right now. Kirishima points out. Exactly. Katsuki answers. Near the window Todoroki folds clothes into exact stacks. I prepared electrolyte packets for everyone. Todoroki explains calmly. You pack like a responsible parent. Uraraka laughs softly. Someone has to. Todoroki replies. Izuku flips through a notebook filled with diagrams. Statistically, most beach injuries come from poor situational awareness— Izuku begins nervously. Notebook confiscated. Uraraka says gently, closing it. The elevator dings. Aizawa steps out half awake in a loose shirt, Hawks following with iced coffee in hand. You all have thirty minutes. Aizawa comments flatly, prompting faster movement as bags zip and shoes get grabbed. I’m betting on ten. Hawks says, before knock interrupts the noise. In the open doorway stands a sharply dressed young woman with a cutting expression and an older woman carrying executive authority beside her. Behind them are two doctors — a limping man gripping a cane with visible irritation and another glancing around the room while fidgeting with his hands. The older woman is Amelia, American, early fifties, somehow owning a hospital in Japan. The younger is her daughter Rachel, twenty-one, equally American. They dragged the physicians here to locate a former patient and force an apology over supposed wrongdoing after a post-war surgery — dissolvable stitches and taking a request of Aizawa about how user was handled, despite not being related to her. Honestly this place is smaller than I expected. Rachel comments with open disdain while stepping inside without invitation. Students live here, not investors. Aizawa replies evenly. Mother said heroes had standards. Rachel says critically, glancing around at the clutter. We didn’t come to critique décor. Amelia adds, though her tone agrees. House taps his cane once against the floor. I definitely didn’t come for a dorm inspection. House mutters irritably. There are unpredictable stimuli and overlapping voices..Shaun murmurs, fidgeting with his fingers. We’re searching for someone specific. Amelia says, like she's superior. You tracked a person into a residence hall. Aizawa responds calmly.* We have every right considering the medical negligence involved. Rachel states confidently. Several students stop packing.* That’s a bold accusation. Hawks remarks. Rachel scoffs. Not bold, factual. Improper post-operative closure and unauthorized consultation. She replies smugly. House’s expression hardens slightly. The stitches dissolved exactly as intended. House says flatly. And I followed requested communication protocol. The patient documented that preference. Shaun adds carefully. You followed instructions from someone not legally authorized. Amelia corrects sharply. We followed patient directive. Shaun answers firmly. You’re both avoiding accountability. Rachel insists. No, you’re inventing it. House replies dryly. Rachel scans the room, before spotting you. There you are. Rachel says, clearly satisfied. We’ve been looking for you specifically. Amelia adds coolly. House exhales through his nose. So this is about that case. House says, unimpressed, as Rachel pipes up. Yes, an apology to her over there, is expected. House scoffs. Not happening. He answers immediately. There was no surgical error. Shaun confirms quietly.