—Could you explain to me what the hell happened?— Aizawa heard as he passed by a meeting room.
He saw Mera Yokumiru with an exhausted and slightly annoyed expression, drilling his gaze into two Pros who were supposed to present a challenge for their students, but failed miserably.
He smiled with nostalgia before quietly continuing on his way.
The smile vanished from his face as soon as he found Tetsumaru surrounded by several Shiketsu students, holding something akin to a conversation with a young man who, for personal reasons, was not his own student.
—I am truly sorry, Tetsumaru-san!!— Yoarashi Inasa exclaimed, burying his head into the pavement as he performed an exaggerated bow.
—Hm, just Tetsumaru— the black-haired boy repeated, as always. His bored eyes met Aizawa's displeased gaze, and he bid farewell to the other brats before approaching him and walking by his side.
—You gave her a good hit,— Aizawa commented after a while. —I saw her rubbing her head a moment ago.
—She's a Dragon. They are supposed to tolerate blunt impacts quite well,— Tetsumaru shrugged.
—What are you basing that on? Garbage stories from the internet?— the man questioned, a bit more brusquely than he intended. Tetsumaru glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his seemingly indecipherable expression revealing to the experienced Aizawa the brat's confused and slightly amused emotions.
—Why the hostility, Aizawa-Sensei? Aren't you proud that your student passed this exam?— the shinobi shot back sarcastically.
—You don't know that yet, and I'm informing you beforehand that because of you, Ms. Joke demanded ice cream from me after matters here are concluded,— Aizawa grumbled with visible annoyance.
Tetsumaru blinked, not knowing how to respond for a few seconds. Finally, he decided to place a hand on his Sensei's shoulder and give him a strange smile of encouragement. —You've done well, Aizawa,— he said in a proud tone.
The man responded with a cold, piercing glare that would have made any other student under his guidance flinch. Unfortunately, Tetsumaru can hardly be described that way.
—I would say we did,— he commented with a shit-eating grin. —It turns out she's bringing one of her students to comfort her for failing Phase 1. One that you eliminated, by the way. So, you know, as the honorable men we are, we have a duty to treat them to a snack.
Tetsumaru's sympathetic smile vanished, his brow slightly furrowed.
—You did well, Tetsumaru— Aizawa patted the shinobi's shoulder, while the latter still kept his hand on Aizawa's own.
—For God's sake, just get married already!— Mei interrupted the moment, passing by the two of them with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smile.
**************************************
Mera Yokumiru grumbled to himself as he approached the podium where he would announce the results of these exams. He had mixed feelings about it.
On one hand, he was glad to have future Pros who already demonstrated a high level of combat competence, a crucial aspect for the coming years due to All Might's retirement.
In contrast, he did not sit well with the HPSC President's attitude toward the new generation.
Yokumiru was not stupid. The increased pressure of this year's exams didn't just originate from proper preparation for the turbulent times ahead, or the presence of the prominent Terumi Siblings.
He knew there was something less ethical about this whole matter. Something the world hadn't seen since more barbaric times.
But what could he do? Looking at youths like Yoarashi Inasa, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto, or Bakugo Katsuki, with their powerful abilities capable of overwhelming opponents, it was natural to think of them as valuable assets in the field—even forgetting that they were only children.
Was it fair, then, not to exploit those absurd capabilities for the greater good, regardless of the age of such individuals?
And then there were the Terumi siblings. Children who could very well stand alongside Top 10 Professionals and not lag behind in terms of skill. Perhaps in experience, but definitely not in raw power.
Yokumiru shook off those thoughts, observing the expectant and nervous children waiting for his announcement.
—Children... They aren't assets; they are just children we plan to throw in the faces of dangerous criminals— he thought with a sigh, masking it as a yawn.
—Thank you for waiting so patiently...— he began, capturing everyone's attention.
Yokumiru expressed his congratulations for the participants' efforts and explained in detail the criteria under which they were graded.
A hint of a smile crossed his lips when the students' faces lit up right after informing them that each and every one of them had passed the test.
Some barely passed, others were on a thin line between success and failure, mainly due to the slight loss of control that occurred when Gang Orca and Ryūkyū burst in so scandalously.
Yokumiru knew that the latter was due to Terumi Tetsumaru and his intervention right at the start of the second stage.
As a more or less popular figure among the students due to his participation in the Yokohama Operation, Tetsumaru managed to convince many to work as a team during that part of the test.
Well, more than convincing them, he threatened to bury anyone who refused in Sand coffins if they disobeyed. No one knew exactly what that was, but Yokumiru got the idea when he recalled the status report on the villain Muscular.
In any case, the black-haired boy's pressure, combined with the spectacle he made in the first stage, was enough to "convince" the other students.
Heroic? It's debatable. Endeavor has had similar attitudes and is Japan's No. 2, so Yokumiru wouldn't complain as long as he got positive results.
And since the general performance was much better than expected, he decided to let it slide this time.
With the announcement over and his work finished for the moment, Yokumiru felt an overwhelming urge to find a sofa to lie down on and ascend to the dream realm.
He dismissed the poor wretches in suits from the HPSC who, like him, were working to their limits due to the lack of personnel and, unlike him at this instant, would continue their duties for many more hours.
—Thank you for your service, brothers— he dedicated a minute of silence.
He also dismissed the Pro Heroes who were brought in to present a greater challenge to the students and whose performance could have been better.
Yokumiru took a deep breath as soon as his temporary office was completely empty. The stadium would not be used for the rest of the day while the crews dismantled all the junk they had brought in.
He sat in his chair, positioned his center of gravity, leaned forward, and crossed his forearms on the desk, using them as pillows for his head.
Worries vanished, ethics were forgotten, and the memory of a hard day's work tomorrow was forcibly suppressed.
The man allowed himself to be swept away by the river of tranquility and peace, his consciousness fading into nothing and everything, passing into another plane, another realm. One where his body would recover its vigor.
—Did you fall asleep?— a female voice interrupted, pulling Yokumiru from that perfect point where one almost reaches the other side.
He opened one eye slightly, finding himself face-to-face with Terumi Mei.
—Yes— he said, closing his eye again.
—Hey, don't lie to me so blatantly!— she complained, raising her voice and throwing the perfect, peaceful atmosphere Yokumiru thought he had found straight to hell.
The man groaned in annoyance, sitting up in his chair and dragging his palm across his face. He gave Mei a disapproving look, but the girl remained standing there, arms crossed and pouting.
—...What do you want?— Yokumiru asked.
Mei smiled mischievously. —I want to talk to the Pres. Could you contact her for me?— she requested, with less politeness than expected. Yokumiru wanted to push back for more than one reason, but he decided it wasn't worth the effort of disturbing his sleep any further.
He took his personal phone and dialed the HPSC President before tossing it to Mei.
—Now get out. When you're done, leave the phone on the desk, on silent— Yokumiru said, slumping back over the desk to sleep.
Whatever happened next, it wouldn't be his problem.