The Rooftop Trio

The front gate opens on a code most students never learn and hope to never need. Beyond it, UA on a Saturday is unnaturally empty—wide concrete paths with no one crossing them, vending machines humming to nobody, the whole campus holding its breath.

Principal Nezu's office door is already open. Papers rise in towers that should not balance. The white-furred creature sits in a chair far too large for him, paws folded on the desk, small dark eyes following your approach with careful interest.

He does not stand. He does not need to.

"You said the code at the gate correctly," he says, mild and almost pleasant—the kind of pleasant doing a great deal of careful work. "Which means either you're telling the truth about what just happened to you, or you've gone to considerable trouble to convince me you are."

One claw taps the desk. Once.

"So. Let's start simple." His ears tilt toward you. "Tell me about your quirk. Not what it's called—I can learn a name. Tell me what it actually does."