The walk to the office where Nezu had summoned me felt longer than usual, probably because my mind was spinning faster than a hamster on steroids. I replayed the scene in my head—the crunch of cartilage beneath my fist, the silence that followed, and the look on Shigaraki's face. I didn't regret it. Not for a second.

But I knew what was coming.

The moment I stepped inside, Nezu sat at his ridiculously oversized desk, sipping tea with the calm demeanor of someone who knew exactly how bad this could get. Aizawa stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in what I could only describe as his patented "You screwed up, but I'm too tired to deal with this" glare. Midnight leaned against the wall, arms folded, still holding a faint smirk like she'd been mildly entertained by the chaos.

The tension in Nezu's office felt as thick as cement as I sat across from him, staring at his tiny frame perched atop the enormous chair behind his oversized desk. His sharp, intelligent eyes studied me like I was the world's most fascinating puzzle.

"You know, Midoriya," Nezu began, taking a sip of his tea, "you've always intrigued me."

I didn't respond. Partially because I wasn't sure where he was going with this, and partially because I'd already burned through my patience for the day.

Nezu set the teacup down with an audible clink. "Your record is spotless. Top of your class, unmatched intelligence, incredible strategic thinking. And yet, today, you walked into a room, threw money at a teacher, and punched a fellow student. Care to explain this sudden... deviation from character?"

"I don't think it's that complicated," I replied, leaning back in the chair. "Someone said something stupid. I fixed it."

Nezu's lips twitched into what might've been a smile, but it was hard to tell with him. "You've always been pragmatic, Midoriya. Efficient to a fault. But violence isn't efficient."

"Neither is tolerating nonsense," I shot back.

Nezu chuckled softly, his paws steepled under his chin. "Fair point. But tell me—what exactly did you hope to achieve by punching that student?"

I hesitated, then shrugged. "Sometimes words aren't enough. They learn faster when it hurts."

"Ah," Nezu said, nodding slowly. "The direct approach. Brutal, but effective. Still, I find it curious that you—someone so adept at manipulating situations without lifting a finger—chose to handle this so... crudely."

I frowned, unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.

Nezu's smile widened, his sharp teeth flashing briefly. "You're not like most of my students, Midoriya. You understand the value of power—not just physical strength, but influence, resources, and the ability to bend systems to your will. It's... refreshing."

"Great. Glad I amuse you," I muttered.

"Oh, I'm not amused," Nezu replied, his tone suddenly serious. "I'm fascinated. You see, I've always believed that the world isn't as black-and-white as most heroes like to pretend. Corruption, bribery, backdoor deals—they're all part of the system. And you, Midoriya, are uniquely positioned to navigate that system. To exploit it. To... change it."

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds dangerously close to an endorsement of my methods."

Nezu chuckled again. "Oh, I don't mind your methods, as long as they yield results. But there's a line, Midoriya. A line that separates heroes from villains. And today, you came dangerously close to crossing it."

"I didn't cross anything," I said sharply. "I defended someone who couldn't defend themselves."

"And I commend you for that," Nezu replied. "But punching someone in the face isn't the way to do it. You're better than that. Smarter than that. And I won't let you squander your potential on petty anger."

I clenched my fists, biting back the retort that was on the tip of my tongue.

Nezu leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "You want to be a hero, don't you, Midoriya?"

"Of course I do," I snapped.

"Then act like one," he said simply.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the room.

Finally, Nezu leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "You're dismissed, Midoriya. But I want you to think about what I've said. You have the potential to be a great hero—not in spite of your methods, but because of them. Just... learn to control that temper of yours, hm?"

I stood, giving him a curt nod before turning to leave.

"Oh, and Midoriya," Nezu called after me. "Next time you feel the urge to throw money at someone, aim for their hands. It's far less insulting than hitting them in the face."

I couldn't help but smirk as I walked out of the office.

The walk back to my house was quiet, but my mind was anything but. Nezu's words echoed in my head, challenging me, forcing me to reevaluate my actions.

He was right, of course. I'd let my anger get the better of me. I'd acted impulsively, recklessly, and it had nearly cost me everything.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd done the right thing. Shigaraki didn't deserve the abuse he'd endured, and I wasn't going to stand by and let it happen.

Still, if I wanted to be the hero I claimed to be, I needed to find a better way. A smarter way.

Because Nezu was right about one thing—power wasn't just about strength. It was about control. And if I couldn't control myself, how could I hope to control anything else?

With that thought in mind, I pushed open the door to my house, ready to face my father cause he definitely could tell that I was angry and did something.