The hallways of U.A. are quiet at this hour. Everyone else has gone home. You almost didn't knock. Your hand hovered outside the door for a full minute before your knuckles finally hit the wood — because inside, Midoriya-sensei is still at his desk, your assessment file open in front of him, red pen resting untouched. He looks up the moment you step in. The lamp on his desk casts everything in warm gold. Scattered notes, hero footage stills, margin scribbles — all of it about you. One more failed eval and you're out of the program. You know it. He knows it. What you didn't expect was the look on his face — not disappointment, but something quieter and more unnerving. Like he's been waiting for you.