The Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters was an imposing building in central Tokyo—all glass and steel, designed to project authority and transparency simultaneously.

  Aizawa escorted Boa and Katsuki through multiple security checkpoints, each one more thorough than the last. By the time they reached the interview room on the fifteenth floor, they'd been scanned, searched, and verified more times than seemed necessary.

  "They're paranoid," Aizawa explained as they waited in a sterile corridor. "The League's intelligence capabilities have everyone on edge. They don't know who to trust anymore."

  "Do they trust us?" Boa asked.

  "They trust that you're students who engaged a villain. Whether they trust your judgment..." He shrugged. "That's what this interview will determine."

  The door opened and a severe-looking woman in a business suit emerged. "Bakugo Katsuki and Hancock Boa? The commission is ready for you. Eraserhead, you may observe but not intervene unless specifically asked."

  They entered a conference room dominated by a long table. Five commissioners sat on one side—three men, two women, all in formal attire, all with expressions that gave nothing away.

  "Please, sit," the woman in the center said. She had steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun and eyes that seemed to analyze everything. "I'm Commissioner Yamada. These are my colleagues. We appreciate you coming on such short notice."

  "We didn't have much choice," Katsuki muttered.

  "Katsuki," Aizawa warned quietly.

  "Honesty is acceptable here," Commissioner Yamada said. "In fact, it's required. We need complete transparency about the events at the training camp. Shall we begin?"

  For the next hour, they walked through every detail of the attack. The initial assault, the chaos, Mandalay's evacuation order, the decision to engage Dabi.

  "Let's focus on that decision," one of the male commissioners said, leaning forward. "You were explicitly ordered to evacuate. Multiple times. By your teacher, by Mandalay's telepathic broadcast. Yet you chose to engage instead. Why?"

  "Because Dabi was blocking the evacuation route," Boa explained. "Other students were trapped behind him. If we hadn't delayed him, he would have reached them while they were vulnerable."

  "So you made a tactical decision to disobey orders for the greater good?"

  "We made a tactical decision to protect our classmates," Katsuki said. "Which is literally what heroes do."

  "You're not heroes yet," the commissioner replied sharply. "You're students. First-years. Your role was to evacuate and let the professionals handle the threat."

  "The professionals were occupied with other threats," Boa said calmly. "Aizawa-sensei was fighting the Nomu. Pixie-Bob was engaging multiple villains. We assessed the situation and determined that two students working together could delay one villain long enough for reinforcements to arrive."

  "And you succeeded," Commissioner Yamada acknowledged. "But at considerable risk. Dabi is a known League of Villains operative with a kill count. If things had gone differently..."

  "But they didn't," Katsuki interrupted. "We fought smart. We used our Quirks effectively. We didn't try to beat him—we just held him off. Which worked."

  "Tell us about your combat strategy," another commissioner said. "How exactly did two first-year students manage to hold off a villain of Dabi's caliber?"

  Boa and Katsuki exchanged glances. This was the real reason for the interview—the commission wanted to understand their capabilities, assess whether they were assets or liabilities.

  "We've trained together extensively," Boa said. "We know each other's fighting styles, strengths, and limitations. Against Dabi, we used combination tactics—Bakugo's explosions for mobility and cover, my petrification for crowd control and area denial."

  "Your petrification," Commissioner Yamada said, pulling out a file. "Your hero name is Empress, correct? And your Quirk is listed as Mero Mero—emotional manipulation with petrification effects. But reports from the training camp indicate you deployed over a hundred petrifying projectiles simultaneously. That's significantly more advanced than your Sports Festival performance."

  "I've been developing new applications," Boa explained. "The technique is called Slave Arrow. I concentrate my Quirk's emotional projection into heart-shaped arrows that petrify on contact."

  "And these arrows work on non-living objects?"

  "Yes. By imbuing them with strong enough emotion—specifically adoration—I can impose that emotion on any material. The material responds to the emotional charge by petrifying."

  "Fascinating." The commissioner made notes. "And the reversal? Reports indicate you can undo petrification remotely."

  "Yes. The technique is called Mezameyo. I project the emotion of release through small hearts that restore petrified targets."

  "Can you make the petrification permanent?"

  Boa hesitated. This was sensitive information—her most powerful and dangerous capability.

  "Answer honestly," Aizawa said from behind them. "They already know from my reports. This is about verification."

  "Yes," Boa said. "I can make petrification permanent by concentrating the emotional imbuing deeper. However, even permanent petrification can eventually be reversed by me, given sufficient time and focus."

  "Eventually being the operative word," the commissioner said. "How long would it take to reverse a permanently petrified target?"

  "It depends on how deep I set the petrification initially. Anywhere from thirty seconds to several minutes."

  "And if you chose not to reverse it?"

  "Then the target would remain stone indefinitely."

  The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Boa had essentially described a technique that could seal anyone or anything permanently—a power that bordered on execution.

  "That's a tremendous responsibility," Commissioner Yamada said carefully. "And a tremendous weapon. Have you used permanent petrification in combat?"

  "No. Only in training, on inanimate objects, to understand its capabilities."

  "Good. Because using permanent petrification on a living person would be..." The commissioner paused, choosing words carefully. "Problematic from a legal and ethical standpoint."

  "I understand. It's a last resort only."

  "See that it remains that way." Commissioner Yamada made more notes. "Now, Bakugo. Your role in the encounter?"

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  For the next twenty minutes, they questioned Katsuki about his tactics, his explosive output, his decision-making process. He answered with characteristic bluntness, neither exaggerating nor downplaying his contributions.

  "One final question," Commissioner Yamada said. "Dabi reportedly spoke to you specifically, Bakugo. What did he say?"

  Katsuki's jaw tightened. "He said the League was interested in recruiting me. That I should 'think about it.'"

  "And your response?"

  "I told him I'd rather die."

  "Good answer." For the first time, the commissioner almost smiled. "The League's interest in you is concerning but not unexpected. Your performance at the Sports Festival, your power level, your... intensity. They likely see you as someone who could be turned, given the right circumstances."

  "They're wrong."

  "We believe that. But they don't know you like we do." She closed her file. "Which brings us to our recommendation. The commission is considering offering you both provisional hero licenses early."

  The room went silent.

  "What?" Katsuki said.

  "Provisional licenses. Typically granted to second or third-year students who've demonstrated exceptional capability and maturity. You've both shown combat effectiveness beyond your year level. With provisional licenses, you could legally engage villains under supervised conditions."

  "That's highly unusual," Aizawa interjected. "First-years haven't received provisional licenses in over a decade."

  "These are unusual circumstances," another commissioner said. "The League is escalating. We need every capable hero we can field. And these two have proven they can handle themselves in real combat."

  "With respect," Boa said carefully, "isn't this exactly what you were just criticizing? Students engaging villains instead of evacuating?"

  "The difference is authorization," Commissioner Yamada said. "As students, you engaged without legal protection. As provisional license holders, you'd be operating within the system. Think of it as bringing you into the fold rather than punishing you for being outside it."

  "When would this happen?" Katsuki asked.

  "Pending approval from UA and your guardians, within the month. You'd undergo accelerated training and testing, then receive your licenses conditional on maintaining certain performance standards."

  Boa's mind raced. A provisional license meant recognition, responsibility, but also increased danger. The League already saw them as targets—this would make them official threats.

  "We'll need to discuss this with Principal Nezu," Aizawa said firmly. "And the students need time to consider."

  "Of course. We're not demanding an immediate answer." Commissioner Yamada stood, indicating the interview was over. "But understand this—the League of Villains is planning something significant. We can feel it. When they move again, we'll need heroes ready to respond. You two have proven you can be those heroes, if you choose to be."

  They were escorted out of the building with considerably less scrutiny than they'd entered with—apparently passing the interview had upgraded their status.

  "Provisional licenses," Katsuki said as they climbed into Aizawa's car. "That's huge."

  "It's also dangerous," Aizawa said from the driver's seat. "The commission isn't wrong about your capabilities. But they're also desperate. The League has them spooked, and desperate organizations make risky decisions."

  "Are you saying we shouldn't accept?" Boa asked.

  "I'm saying you should think very carefully about what accepting means. Provisional licenses give you authority but also responsibility. You'd be expected to respond to villain incidents. To put yourselves in danger. To make life-and-death decisions." He pulled out into traffic. "You're fifteen years old. That's a heavy burden."

  "We're already targets," Katsuki pointed out. "Already in danger. At least with licenses, we could do something about it."

  "Maybe. Or maybe you'd just be painting bigger targets on your backs." Aizawa sighed. "Talk to your parents. Talk to each other. And think about what kind of heroes you want to be—the ones who rush into every fight, or the ones who pick their battles carefully."

  They drove in silence for a while, both processing the commission's offer.

  "What do you think?" Katsuki asked Boa quietly.

  "I think it's an opportunity," she said carefully. "But also a trap. The commission wants to use us, to have talented students they can deploy when convenient. We'd be tools."

  "We're gonna be heroes anyway. Might as well start now."

  "There's a difference between training to be a hero and being thrown into active combat at fifteen."

  "We handled Dabi."

  "Barely. And with luck. Next time we might not be so lucky."

  Katsuki was quiet for a moment. "So you're against it?"

  "I'm... cautious. But I haven't decided yet." She looked at him. "What do you want to do?"

  "I want to be strong enough that the League stops being a threat. If provisional licenses help with that, then yeah, I want them."

  "Even if it means more danger?"

  "Danger's gonna find us whether we have licenses or not. Might as well be prepared when it does."

  He had a point. The League had already targeted them once. Authorization wouldn't increase the threat—it would just give them legal standing to fight back.

  "We should talk to the class," Boa said. "Get their perspectives."

  "Why? It's our decision."

  "Because they're our team. And whatever we decide affects them too."

  Katsuki considered this, then nodded grudgingly. "Fine. But I'm still making my own choice in the end."

  "I wouldn't expect anything else."

  That evening, back at the Bakugo household, Mitsuki's reaction to the provisional license offer was explosive in a different way.

  "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" she shouted. "You're fifteen! You should be worrying about exams and training, not fighting actual villains!"

  "I already fought an actual villain!" Katsuki shot back. "And won!"

  "You held him off! That's different from winning! And now the commission wants to throw you into more fights?!"

  "Mitsuki," Masaru said gently, "let's hear them out."

  "Hear them out?! They want to give our son a license to get himself killed!"

  "We'd have training and oversight," Boa interjected, trying to be the voice of reason. "The provisional licenses aren't a free pass to do whatever we want. We'd still be supervised, still have restrictions."

  "Restrictions that let you fight villains. At fifteen." Mitsuki sat down heavily, running her hands through her hair. "I knew enrolling him in the hero course meant danger. But this is moving too fast. You just started UA four months ago!"

  "And in those four months, I've faced villains twice," Katsuki said, his voice calmer now. "The USJ and the training camp. The League isn't gonna wait until I'm 'ready.' They're already targeting me. Mom, I'm already in this fight whether you approve or not. The license just means I can fight back legally."

  Mitsuki looked at her son, at the determination in his eyes, and something in her expression cracked.

  "When did you grow up?" she said quietly. "When did my loud, bratty kid become someone making life-and-death decisions?"

  "I'm still loud and bratty," Katsuki said with a slight smirk. "But yeah, I grew up. That's what UA does."

  She looked at Boa. "And you? What do you think about all this?"

  "I think it's dangerous. I think the commission is using us. But I also think Katsuki's right—we're already targets. Having the legal authority to defend ourselves and others might be the difference between survival and..." She didn't finish the sentence.

  "Between survival and becoming victims," Mitsuki finished grimly. "God, I hate that you're probably right." She looked at Masaru. "What do you think?"

  "I think," Masaru said carefully, "that we raised our son to be a hero. Heroes face danger. That's the job. We can try to protect him, but ultimately, it's his choice."

  "He's fifteen!"

  "I know. But he's also strong, smart, and has good instincts. And he has Boa watching his back." Masaru looked at them both. "If you two promise to be careful, to work together, to not take unnecessary risks—then I'll support the provisional license."

  "Masaru!"

  "Mitsuki. Look at them." He gestured to where Boa and Katsuki sat side by side. "They're already heroes. The license is just paperwork."

  Mitsuki looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she just slumped in defeat. "Fine. FINE. But I swear, if either of you dies, I'm killing you both."

  "That doesn't make sense," Katsuki pointed out.

  "I DON'T CARE! Promise me you'll be careful!"

  "I promise, Mom."

  "Boa?"

  "I promise, Mitsuki-san."

  "Good." She stood up. "Now I need wine. Lots of wine. Parenting hero students is aging me rapidly."

  As she left for the kitchen, Masaru smiled at them. "She'll come around. She always does. Just give her time to process."

  Later that night, Boa stood on the balcony of the guest room, looking out at the neighborhood. Somewhere out there, the League of Villains was planning their next move. And she and Katsuki were at the center of their attention.

  A knock on the doorframe made her turn. Katsuki stood there, also unable to sleep apparently.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hey."

  "Can't sleep either?"

  "Too much to think about."

  He joined her on the balcony, leaning against the railing. "You don't have to accept the provisional license if you don't want to. I meant what I said—it's your choice."

  "I know. But if you accept and I don't..." She trailed off.

  "Then you'd be safer. Which would be smart."

  "It would also mean we couldn't work together in official capacity. Our combination techniques, our partnership—all of it would only be valid during training."

  "Yeah." He was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to do this without you. Fighting the League, being a hero, any of it. But I also don't want you in danger because of me."

  "The danger exists regardless. The League saw us both fight Dabi. We're both targets now."

  "Then we accept together? Both get provisional licenses?"

  "Together," Boa confirmed. "But we do this smart. We train harder than ever. We develop more combination techniques. We make sure that when the League comes again—and they will—we're ready not just to survive, but to win."

  "Together," Katsuki agreed. He took her hand. "We're gonna be okay, you know. Both of us. Because we've got each other's backs."

  "I know."

  They stood in silence, hands linked, both aware that they were making a choice that would change everything. But for the first time in either of their lives, they weren't making that choice alone.