The tram ride back to U.A. was silent.
Hoshi leaned against the pole, staring out the window at the passing city.Renya sat opposite her, eyes half-lidded, listening to the faint ripples that still lingered after the incident.
The Abyss wasn't dormant anymore.It wasn't aggressive.But it had momentum.
And momentum, in any world, attracted attention.
When they stepped off the tram, the school grounds felt different.
Not physically.Emotionally.
Students paused as they passed.Teachers looked longer than necessary.Not fear.Not admiration.
Calculation.
As if they were assessing something about him they couldn't yet name.
Hoshi murmured, "You feel it too?"
"Yes."
She exhaled through her teeth. "They're trying to figure you out."
"That will take time," Renya said.
"Or it'll take one rumor," she muttered.
Renya didn't respond.
Because she was right.
Inside the main faculty wing, Aizawa leaned against the doorframe of his office, arms folded, waiting.
Never a good sign.
"You caused something today," Aizawa said.
"I resolved something," Renya replied.
"Same difference," Aizawa muttered. "Come in."
Hoshi moved to follow, but Aizawa shook his head.
"Just him."
Hoshi raised a brow, but Renya nodded once.She stepped back.
Inside the office, the curtains were drawn, leaving only the dim lamp on the desk casting soft light across paperwork and exhausted coffee cups.
Aizawa didn't sit.He circled behind the desk and gestured at the opposite side.
"Sit."
Renya did.
Aizawa inhaled through his nose.
"The Public Safety Commission called me," he said. "While you were in transit."
Renya waited.
Aizawa continued."They want a report from you. In writing. About the incident."
"Standard," Renya said.
"No," Aizawa replied flatly. "They want a report specifically on how you handled it."
Renya tilted his head.
Aizawa tapped the desk twice.
"Look. You've been doing something out there. Something effective. Something unique. But the Commission isn't calling because it worked. They're calling because it keeps happening."
Renya remained silent.
Aizawa leaned forward.
"You can't keep pretending you're invisible."
That sentence hung in the air like a noose.
Renya didn't flinch.He only said, "I don't pretend."
Aizawa stared at him for five seconds.
"Fine. Then I'll say it clearly," he said. "You're drawing attention. The wrong kind."
Renya didn't respond.
Because that wasn't news.
Aizawa rubbed his temples, exhausted."You de-escalate situations no one else can even diagnose. The kids imitate your methods. The public is quoting you. And now you're resolving panic chains without using your quirk in any trackable way."
Renya's eyes narrowed. "Is that a problem?"
"Yes," Aizawa said. "For them."
"And for you?"
Aizawa hesitated.
"Not a problem," he said. "A responsibility."
Renya said nothing.
Aizawa continued, voice lowering.
"You're becoming a phenomenon, Renya. And people in positions of power don't like phenomena they can't classify."
"That is not my concern."
"It is now," Aizawa replied. "Because they're going to classify you anyway."
Renya's gaze sharpened.
"How?"
Aizawa dropped a folder onto the desk.
Inside was a printed document:
Subject: Kurotsuki RenyaBehavioral Pattern AnalysisPreliminary Classification: High-Influence Operative / Cognitive-Level Hazard PotentialRecommendation: Observational Oversight
Hoshi would have sworn.
Renya simply blinked, slow and controlled.
"A hazard," he said softly.
Aizawa shrugged. "Don't take it personally. They label anyone they can't predict as a hazard."
"I am predictable."
"No," Aizawa said bluntly. "You're consistent. Not predictable."
Renya studied the file again.
Cognitive-Level Hazard.Not physical.Not quirk-based.Behavior-based.
Influence.Presence.Psychological impact.
They weren't afraid he'd level a city.
They were afraid he'd convince a city.
Aizawa sat finally."You have two choices."
Renya looked up.
"One: You cooperate. You file the reports. You let them observe. You show them that whatever you're doing is just… unusual hero work."
"And the second option?" Renya asked.
Aizawa sighed.
"You scare them by refusing. And they'll push harder."
Renya closed the folder.
"I will not alter my methods," he said.
"I'm not asking you to," Aizawa said. "But you do need to understand the political terrain you're stepping into."
Renya didn't answer.
Because he didn't care about politics.But he understood terrain.
Aizawa leaned back.
"Look. I don't want you to blunt yourself. I don't want you to soften. But I do want you to be strategic."
Renya stood.
"You're saying the Commission is afraid."
Aizawa nodded. "They're afraid of losing control of a narrative. You've become a narrative."
Renya turned toward the door.
Aizawa added quietly:
"Don't let them define you before you define yourself."
Renya paused.
Just once.
Then he left.
Hoshi waited outside, arms crossed.
"What happened?"
"Politics," Renya said.
She grimaced. "Ugh."
They walked down the hall together.
Students whispered behind them.Teachers glanced through open doors.The building felt like a living creature turning all its eyes toward them.
Hoshi nudged him with her elbow.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
"Liar."
He glanced at her.
She didn't push further.
They reached the stairwell leading to the main quad when Hoshi stopped abruptly.
"Look."
In the center of the quad, a group of students sat together on the grass.Not talking.Not laughing.
Meditating.
Not perfectly.Not professionally.
But following Renya's exact posture from the tribunal.
Arms resting.Breath steady.Shoulders lowered.
Hoshi whispered:
"They're practicing your stability."
Renya stared.
Not with pride.Not with satisfaction.
With recognition.
This was no longer imitation.This was no longer curiosity.
It was doctrine.
Growing.Spreading.Shifting.Evolving.
And the Abyss pulsed in answer.
Slow.Soft.Encouraged.
Hoshi touched Renya's shoulder.
"Does it feel like it's getting bigger?" she asked quietly.
Renya didn't turn.
"It is no longer resonance," he said. "It is structure."
"Is that dangerous?" Hoshi asked.
Renya finally looked at her, eyes dark, steady, and unnervingly calm.
"Yes."
He stepped down into the quad.
The shadows followed like a tide.
And somewhere far below the surface of this world, the Abyss leaned closer, listening with increasing fascination.