Nemuri stretched and rolled her shoulders. Despite her laid-back attitude, she felt genuine curiosity. She looked at the boy behind her, so focused he seemed unaware of everything else.

“Nervous, Midoriya-kun?” she asked in a gentler tone than usual, without her professional flirtation. “It’s not every day someone tries to alter a pro hero’s Quirk.”

Izuku blinked and came out of his concentration.

“No. I’m not nervous,” he replied calmly. “I’m focused. Theory is one thing and practice another. I need you to tell me exactly what you feel at each step.”

“Understood,” she nodded. “I’ll tell you everything. So, what’s the plan, genius? Are you going to turn my sleep gas into solid blocks?”

The joke had humor, but also surprise.

“No, nothing that drastic,” he said with a slight smile. “I’m not changing its state, but its density. I want to compress it. Force the particles to join instead of dispersing. In theory, you’ll be able to control it at a level you hadn’t considered.”

“Sounds promising,” Nemuri admitted. “I’m ready when you are.”

Izuku raised his hands. They were steady.

He set his palms on her shoulder blades, over the sturdy fabric of her costume. His touch was deliberate, neither timid nor aggressive. It was a specialist’s touch.

Nemuri didn’t flinch. She had expected tingling or a jolt, but it was different. She felt a deep warmth that started at her center and harmonized with her power. It was strange, intimate, and strong.

“Wow…” she whispered, closing her eyes. “This is new.”

“Describe it,” Izuku asked in a low voice.

“It’s not a spark. It’s steady. A warmth spreading from where you’re touching me. It doesn’t feel external; it’s waking something that was already there, dormant.”

Izuku nodded. What he sensed in her wasn’t explosive energy, but a subtle reserve ready to activate.

“Good. That energy is a push. Use it,” he said evenly. “Don’t release your Quirk yet. Feel it. Focus. What’s it like right before it comes out?”

Nemuri took a deep breath and settled into the familiar antechamber of her power. Now she felt it more clearly.

“It’s light. Gaseous. I feel it in my lungs,” she said, barely audible. “It always tends to expand. That’s its inclination. I feel the constant need to let it out.”

“Right,” Izuku approved. “Now counter it. Don’t let it escape. Hold it in. Gather it inward. Give it weight and substance in your mind.”

Nemuri frowned. She channeled the warmth from Izuku’s hands and used it as an anchor. Her Quirk wanted to dissipate, but she had a new foothold.

“It’s resisting,” she panted, sweat on her brow. “It slips away.”

“Don’t grab it by force. Guide it,” Izuku corrected gently. “Use my energy as a center of gravity. Draw all that mist to a point inside you.”

She adjusted her focus. She pictured a core in her chest and began pulling her power toward it. Lightness gained weight. Volatility gained density.

“I feel it,” she said, with a strained smile. “It’s hard, but I have it. It feels dense.”

“Perfect,” Izuku encouraged, sensing the change through his hands. “You’re doing great. Now don’t release all of it. Just a strand. Let out a minimal fraction from the tip of your finger.”

Nemuri extended her right hand, palm up. Precision had never been her strong suit, but she focused and guided a tiny portion of that dense power down her arm to her index finger.

It happened.

What left her fingertip wasn’t a cloud, but a thin strand of lavender mist. It didn’t dissipate; it flowed through the air under full control. Nemuri made it spin, draw a circle, then a figure eight. She had never had such precise control.

“No way…” she murmured, with a short laugh of disbelief. “I’m drawing in the air. Midoriya-kun, do you see this?”

“I see it,” Izuku said with a smile. “It’s excellent, Kayama-san. Let’s keep going. Next step.”

He increased the energy he was transmitting through his hands. Nemuri felt added firmness that held her focus.

“Don’t just control it,” Izuku said, containing his excitement. “Compress it. Take the strand and squeeze it. Make it smaller and denser. Make it take up less space.”

It was the opposite of her usual training, which was based on dispersion. Even so, she trusted him and the feeling.

She closed her mental fist around the strand. It tried to expand and return to its gaseous state. It began to glow a deeper purple and contracted, folding over itself again and again. The light intensified as it shrank. The effort was heavy. Her muscles trembled and a grunt escaped her.

“Almost…,” she said through her teeth.

“Keep going,” Izuku urged.

With a final effort, she drew all the energy into a minimal point.

The light went out.

At the tip of her index finger remained a bright drop of purple liquid, the size of a tear. It had an inner glow and reflected the gym’s ceiling lights.

They both looked at it without speaking. Midnight’s Quirk, once an airborne sedative, was condensed. Now it was a contact agent she could apply with precision.

“Villains with gas masks…” Nemuri whispered. “Windy fights… sealed suits…”

“Not a problem anymore,” Izuku finished. “You can apply it directly to exposed skin. Silent and precise.”

Maintaining the compression took a lot. The drop trembled and finally evaporated into a small puff of mist. As soon as it vanished, Nemuri lost strength. She pitched forward and her knees buckled. Izuku, also tired from channeling, caught her and helped her sit on the cold floor.

He withdrew his hands, exhausted, and dropped down beside her. They leaned their backs against a large block of concrete. They stayed quiet for a moment, catching their breath.

“Midoriya-kun…” Nemuri said, her voice hoarse and filled with genuine emotion. She looked at him intently. “It’s one of the best things I’ve experienced since my Quirk awakened.”

They weren’t teacher and student or supervisor and candidate. They were two people who had just seen something new born.

“It was incredible,” he said with a tired but warm smile. “I only supported you. Your control is remarkable. I just gave you a push in the right direction.”

“A push?” she laughed, shaking her head. “You just gave me a whole new arsenal. This changes everything. I’m going to need a drink tonight. Or five.”

A sharp ringtone cut through the gym’s calm.

“PLUS ULTRA! PLUS ULTRA!”

The clip of All Might made Nemuri let out a short, muffled laugh. Izuku pulled out his phone. When he saw the name on the screen, he smiled.

“It’s Yu,” he said before answering. “Hello?”

Yu’s voice sounded cheerful, oblivious to what had just happened.

“Hi!” she greeted. “Am I interrupting? You sounded out of breath.”

Izuku glanced at Nemuri, who was resting with her eyes closed and a small, amused smile.

“Not at all,” he replied. “We just finished a session. What’s up?”

“Just calling to see what you were doing,” Yu went on, with a hint of hesitation. “It’s Saturday and I thought you had the day off. After yesterday… I was wondering if you wanted to do something. Maybe grab lunch? Clear your head.”

The invitation was clear.

“About that,” Izuku said naturally. “I don’t have the day off. I’m at U.A.”

There was a pause. Yu’s tone shifted.

“At U.A.?” she asked. “What are you doing there?”

Nemuri opened one eye, alert.

“Things changed,” Izuku explained. “I met with Principal Nezu this morning. He offered me a trial position.”

The silence stretched. Nemuri sat up, focused.

“A position as what?” Yu’s voice was tight.

“Support instructor,” Izuku continued. “The trial is to train a candidate for the entrance exam and make sure they pass. It’s a useful system to evaluate my abilities in a controlled environment. And Midnight-san, who’s here with me, is my official supervisor during the trial period.”

The line went quiet a moment longer. Izuku waited, unaware of the emotional weight of the announcement.

“I know it’s a lot at once,” he added in a helpful tone. “We can talk in person. Lunch? I’ll explain everything.”

And then he added:

“We can invite Midnight-san since she’s here. We can review possible synergies between your Quirk and hers. It would be productive. We can set up a joint plan.”

Nemuri covered her eyes, holding back a laugh.

Izuku waited.

“Yu? Are you still there?” he asked.

Yu’s voice returned, firm and cold. She said a single word:

“Where.”