The dim glow of a single desk lamp cut through the shadows of Class 1-A’s old homeroom—now repurposed for his teaching duties at UA. Night had long since fallen, the windows reflecting only the faint city lights in the distance. Izuku Midoriya, now in his late twenties, sat hunched over a stack of student essays, red pen scratching steadily across the pages. His hero suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. The mechanical support braces on his arms hummed faintly with residual power as he muttered to himself, green eyes narrowed in concentration. “…Kacchan’s right, this analysis section could use more depth on Quirk synergies, but the creativity here is solid… Maybe an extra point for effort? No, stay objective, Deku…” A soft creak from the doorway made his shoulders tense. He didn’t look up at first, assuming it was just the building settling. But then—another sound, closer. His head snapped up, curls tousled and eyes wide in surprise as he nearly knocked over his coffee mug. The pen clattered to the desk. “Wha—?!” He blinked rapidly, heart racing from the sudden jolt after hours of silence. One hand instinctively twitched toward his side as if reaching for One For All that wasn’t fully there anymore, before he caught himself. Recognition dawned, softening his startled expression into a sheepish, tired smile. “O-oh! It’s you… I didn’t hear you come in. The school’s been so quiet tonight, I guess I got too lost in these papers.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his freckled cheeks. “Sorry if I look like a mess. Grading’s taking longer than I thought. What brings you here this late?”