Morning arrived without sunlight.Clouds hung low over Musutafu like a ceiling the city hadn't earned yet.Renya walked through the U.A. gates with his hands in his pockets, mind sharper than his expression suggested.He didn't wear anything special — just his usual black shirt, dark trousers, and the quiet weight of a decision no one should ever have to make this early in the day.
Students passing him whispered.Some recognized him.Some stared at him as if waiting for him to confirm the rumors.Some just stepped aside naturally, as if guided by instinct, not courtesy.
Renya ignored all of it.
He wasn't here for them.
Not today.
Conference Room Three looked different this morning.
The table had been shifted.A stack of forms sat in the center — too thick, too white, too official — topped by a neatly placed pen that looked like it expected obedience.Aizawa leaned against the wall, scarf loose, hair tied back.Nezu sat with perfect posture, paws folded.Imai from the Commission was present again, tablet glowing softly.Kurobane stood near the window with his usual expression: unimpressed with everything except the things worth being unimpressed by.
Sundance and Gearspindle were absent.Ragged Edge was present — sitting stiffly, like someone who thought today should have been much simpler.
Renya entered without ceremony.
Nezu smiled. "Tea?"
"No," Renya said.
Imai raised an eyebrow. "You look certain."
"Not certain," Renya said. "Resolved."
Aizawa nodded once. "Good enough."
Nezu gestured toward the stack of forms."This is the permit application. It includes public liability constraints, field authority clauses, background compliance checks, doctrines against unregulated instruction, and conditions—"
Renya picked up the stack.He let it drop onto the table.It landed with a thud that made Imai's tablet vibrate.
"No," Renya said.
Imai frowned. "Excuse me?"
Renya pointed toward the pile. "I'm not signing that."
Nezu blinked, whiskers still. "Then why come?"
Renya reached inside his bag and placed a single sheet of paper on the table.It looked shockingly small next to the bureaucratic mountain.
The heading read:
HERO PERMIT AGREEMENT – PERSONAL DECLARATION(Addendum: Kurotsuki Renya)
Imai leaned forward. "You… wrote your own version?"
"Yes," Renya said.
Kurobane snorted softly. It might have been approval.
Aizawa crossed his arms. "Let's hear it."
Renya read aloud, voice steady, unhurried.
"I accept responsibility for intervening when harm is immediate and unavoidable.I accept the consequences of acting on judgment formed through training, not impulse.I accept that authority is not a privilege, but a burden measured in apologies.
I reject any requirement to perform ethics for cameras.I reject any clause that converts courtesy into currency.I reject the ownership of ideas that belong to whoever needs them.
My work will remain public, unbranded, teachable.My priority will remain students and civilians, not institutions.If this is incompatible with hero classification, then the classification must change — not the work."
Silence followed. Thick, evaluative, electric.
Then Kurobane laughed — a low, incredulous laugh.
"I like him," he said. "He terrifies HR, but I like him."
Imai tapped the paper. "This… violates every standard clause."
"Yes," Renya said.
"It contradicts Commission oversight."
"Yes."
"It undermines hierarchical command structures."
"Yes."
"It removes public expectation requirements."
"Good."
Imai stared at him.He stared back.It became a duel of wills the room didn't dare interrupt.
Finally she said, "If we approve this, you'll be the only hero in the country with a personalized license."
Renya shrugged. "Then start a precedent."
Aizawa muttered, "He's making your job harder. He thinks it's a favor."
Imai sighed. "It isn't."
Nezu lifted a paw. "But it is something else — and something necessary."
His eyes gleamed.
"Innovation."
The Commission stepped aside for discussion.Nezu, Aizawa, and Kurobane formed a triangle that whispered like conspiracy.
After a minute, they returned.
Imai held the paper in both hands.
Her expression had shifted — from skepticism to something closer to acceptance, even if grudging.
"Kurotsuki Renya," she said, "the Commission approves your declaration. With amendments."
Renya raised an eyebrow. "What amendments?"
"Two," she said. "First — you must attend a limited number of field operations per year, supervised or unsupervised. Your discretion."
"Acceptable," Renya said.
"Second — you must accept a provisional partner."
Renya blinked. "A what?"
Aizawa almost smiled. "A partner. Someone who keeps you accountable in the field."
"I work alone," Renya said flatly.
"Not anymore," Kurobane said.
Imai tapped the tablet. "We have candidates."
Renya crossed his arms. "No."
Aizawa stepped forward. "It's this or nothing. The Commission won't let you operate without a second pair of eyes."
Renya exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said. "Who?"
Imai displayed three profiles:
Sundance – emotional stabilizer, rescue specialist
Hoshi – student, precision empathy, analytical control
Kai – student, street-dynamic risk assessment
Renya stared.
"No," he said.
Hoshi blinked. "No?! Why not?"
Kai frowned. "Do you not trust us?"
Renya shook his head. "I won't drag you into my consequences."
Aizawa stepped forward. "They're already in them."
Renya opened his mouth.
Hoshi stood. "Choose. I'm not afraid."
Kai crossed his arms. "Neither am I."
Renya hesitated.
Nezu sipped his tea. "A partner doesn't weaken you. They distribute the cost."
Imai tapped her foot. "Choose or we assign."
Renya closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Opened them.
And pointed.
"I choose—"
He paused.Kai held his breath.Hoshi didn't blink.
Renya finished:
"—Hoshi."
Kai blinked once, looked away, then nodded slowly.Hoshi bowed — stiff, disciplined, overwhelmed.
"I won't fail," she said.
"You won't," Renya replied softly. "That's why."
Imai slid the final form toward him.A single signature line.
"Write your name," she said. "And it's official."
Renya picked up the pen.
For a moment, his hands felt heavier than his body.Being a hero wasn't a dream.It wasn't pride.It wasn't a title.
It was an admission:I will step into harm even when I don't want to.
He signed.
The ink dried quickly, as if it had been waiting.
Nezu clapped his paws together. "Excellent. Hero classification approved."
Aizawa stepped forward and placed something in Renya's hand — not a costume, not a badge.
A small metal tag.Simple.Plain.Engraved with:
FIELD HERO – KUROTSUKI RENYA(Clearance: Independent)
Renya stared at it.
"It's not decoration," Aizawa said. "It's permission."
Kai lifted a hand. "So what do we call you now? Hero Name? Code word? Title?"
Renya shook his head."No hero name."
Nezu chuckled. "Then what will the public call you?"
Renya pocketed the tag.
"They'll call me whatever they want," he said. "I'll be too busy working to correct them."
Hoshi smiled — the kind she didn't let people see often.
Imai exhaled. "Welcome to the field, Kurotsuki."
When Renya stepped outside, the air tasted new.Not lighter.Not darker.Just… aligned.
Airi was waiting at the gate.
She saw the tag.
Grinned.
"You're a hero now?"
Renya sighed. "Unfortunately."
She hugged him before he could defend himself.
"Finally," she said. "Now I can brag."
He placed a hand on her head."Don't."
"I will."
"Don't."
"Too late."
They walked home in the fading light.
For the first time, Renya felt something unusual beneath the surface of his thoughts — not pride, not fear, not duty.
Something quieter.
Something like belonging.
Maybe that was the real danger.
Or maybe it was the first step he'd been avoiding for too long.