As I stepped into the grand hallway of our home, I could hear the faint hum of classical music drifting from my father's study. It wasn't an unusual scene—him surrounded by the comforts of a villainous mastermind's sanctum, plotting, thinking, scheming—but tonight, there was an air of anticipation I couldn't ignore. I made my way to his study, knocking lightly on the door.

"Come in, Izuku," his voice called, smooth and commanding as always. He didn't need to see me to know I was there.

I pushed the door open, stepping into the room where the scent of polished wood and faintly burnt paper greeted me. He sat at his desk, his posture regal, the room dimly lit save for the warm glow of his desk lamp. Papers were spread out in front of him, but he placed them aside as I entered.

"Father," I greeted, letting my satchel drop onto one of the plush chairs. "I figured you'd want an update."

His lips curled into a small smile, one that sent shivers down the spines of many but felt oddly comforting to me. "Indeed. I've been curious about how your little endeavor is progressing. Come, sit. Tell me everything."

I plopped into the chair across from him, loosening my tie and exhaling. "Well, where do I even begin? The misfits are improving, I'll give them that. They're running faster, hitting harder, thinking quicker. But mentally? That's where the real work is happening. Some of them are starting to second-guess their choices. A few even hinted at wanting to leave villainy behind."

He raised a brow, his hands steepling as he leaned forward. "And how do you feel about that?"

I shrugged, leaning back. "I couldn't care less what they do after this festival. If they want to be heroes, fine. If they want to crawl back into their villain caves, that's their business. What matters is that they perform when it counts. I've made that abundantly clear."

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. "Spoken like someone who understands the art of manipulation. They don't need to know the full plan, only their role in it."

"Exactly," I said, gesturing with one hand. "Though I'll admit, the League of Villains isn't as easy to sway. Shigaraki, in particular, is onto me. He knows I'm playing the long game. He just doesn't know how long."

Father leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "And how are you handling him?"

I smirked. "By making it clear that challenging me is a mistake. Shigaraki respects power, and I've shown him enough to keep him in line. For now. But the others? They're waiting for a misstep, a weakness. It's almost funny. They think they're playing chess, but I'm the one holding the board."

He chuckled again, his gaze warm. "You remind me more of myself every day, Izuku. Calculated, ambitious, ruthless when necessary. It's admirable."

"Ruthless is an understatement," I said, leaning forward. "I'm pushing them to their limits, breaking them down so I can build them back up into something better. But it's not just about physical strength. I'm showing them that their quirks—hell, even their lack of quirks—don't define them. It's the strategy, the mindset, the ability to outthink their opponents that will set them apart."

His eyes gleamed with pride. "You've truly grasped the essence of power. It's not about brute strength or flashy abilities—it's about control. Of others, yes, but more importantly, of yourself."

"That's the plan," I said with a shrug. "But let's be honest, Father. These people, these so-called villains—they're a means to an end. This festival isn't about proving they can change. It's about proving I can change them. And once I've done that, the Hero Commission, the media, the entire society—they'll have no choice but to pay attention. And then? Then I'll make them pay in ways they can't even imagine."

He stood, walking around the desk to stand behind me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "You've come a long way from the timid boy who idolized heroes. You've become someone who can reshape this world. And you're right—the system is broken. It's ripe for someone like you to take control."

I looked up at him, a faint smirk playing on my lips. "And when I do, you'll have the best seat in the house."

"Of course," he said, his voice carrying a rare note of affection. "But tell me more about these... developments. Why do you think some of them are reconsidering their villainous ways?"

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "It's not rocket science. For some of them, it's the first time someone's believed in their potential—not just as fighters, but as people. And honestly? I think a few of them are starting to realize that being a villain isn't as glamorous as they thought. When you strip away the chaos and theatrics, it's just... sad."

He nodded, his gaze distant for a moment. "Interesting. And what of the League? What's your read on them?"

"They're loyal—to a fault. But loyalty doesn't mean blind faith. They trust me, sure, but they're also waiting for me to slip up. It's a balancing act, really. I give them just enough to keep them invested, but not enough to give them leverage. Shigaraki's the only one who might pose a problem, but even he knows better than to challenge me outright."

Father's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder, a silent gesture of approval. "You're playing a dangerous game, Izuku. But you're playing it well. Just remember—control is everything. Never let them see the cracks especially Nezu."

"Don't worry," I said, standing and straightening my tie. "The cracks, if there are any, are part of the design. By the time they figure out what's really happening, it'll be too late."

He laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. "Spoken like a true leader. You've made me proud, Izuku. More than you know."

I turned to face him, my smirk softening into something almost genuine. "Thanks, Father. But don't get too sentimental on me. We've got a society to overthrow."

"Indeed," he said, his voice carrying a weight that made the air feel electric. "And you're just the one to do it."

As I left his study, I couldn't help but feel a surge of determination. This wasn't just about proving a point. This was about rewriting the rules, about taking control of a system that had failed too many for too long. And if that meant breaking a few more noses along the way, so be it.