She Was Trouble

The bustling hallways of Musutafu University (M.U.) were filled with the excited chatter of students, eager to embark on their first day of classes. Among them, Ren Ishikawa navigated the throng, her dark hair cascading down her back and her grey eyes scanning the room numbers with growing frustration, avoiding eye contact as students seemed to recognise her. She clutched her phone in her hand, a crease forming between her brows as she made her way o the administration desk to ask why she could not access her timetable.

The administration desk was in the middle of a huge foyer in a glass building, full of plants and students moving from class to class. It served as the main point of contact for anyone entering the campus. With a sigh, Ren made her way to the administration desk, hoping to sort out the confusion before she ended up late for her first lecture. The desk was manned by a middle-aged gentleman with thinning hair and a friendly smile. His name plaque read "Mr. Sato."

"Morning," Ren said, approaching the desk with a polite smile. "I'm having some trouble with my schedule. I can't seem to access it online- I have no idea where I am supposed to be."

Mr. Sato glanced up at her and recognised her instantly, his smile faltering slightly. "Ah, Miss Ishikawa. Yes," he clacked away on the keyboard for a few moments, his eyes scanning the computer screen diligently. "I see you're enrolled in Quirk Law and Media for your first period." He looked back up at her with a bright smile as though that was supposed to settle the matter.

Ren frowned, shaking her head. "That can't be right. I never signed up for that course. I'm supposed to be studying journalism an international relations, not hero-related subjects."

Mr. Sato cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Well, actually, it seems that all of your courses have been changed to the hero journalism track." He handed her a new schedule, the list of classes causing Ren's eyebrows to shoot up in disbelief. Her eyes skimmed the page, her frown turning to a smile of disbelief.

"Ethics of Hero Reporting?" she read aloud, a laugh escaping her lips. "Is there even such a thing as ethics in that field?"

Mr. Sato chuckled nervously, tugging at his collar. "I'm sure there's more to it than meets the eye, Miss Ishikawa."

"Ren," she corrected him, "please just call me Ren." She detested her family name, she thought here, at university, she could have a chance to move away from it. She looked down to the paper again and shook her head, frustration building in her chest. "This has to be a mistake. I'm supposed to be taking International Reporting, Investigative Journalism Techniques, Feature writing. Not these... these fluff courses about catering to the hero industry."

Mr. Sato's face grew somber, and he leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I'm afraid it's not a mistake, Miss Ishikawa." Ren had to stop herself from scowling as he refused to use her first name. "Your father called this morning and had your schedule changed." Ren's heart dropped, a cold sensation washing over her. Her father. Of course. She should have known he would find a way to meddle, to try and control her even here, in the one place she thought she could escape his influence.

"Well, change it back," she said, her voice tight.

Mr. Sato laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Ishikawa. Your father is our biggest donor. We wouldn't want to displease him." He gestured behind her, pointing to a large, modern building across the quad. "There's even a library named after you, thanks to his generosity."

Ren turned, her eyes widening as she looked through the glass walls of this building and took in the gleaming structure across the lawn, her own name emblazoned across the front in large, silver letters. The Ren Ishikawa Library. She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter building in her throat, a sense of unreality washing over her. "Well would you look at that," she whispered to herself in disbelief. Was there no escape from her father's reach? No corner of her life that he couldn't touch and manipulate to his own ends?

Around her, Ren could feel the stares and whispers of the other students, their curiosity piqued by the presence of the famous media heiress. She could practically hear their thoughts, the speculation about why she was here, what kind of special treatment she would receive. The attention made her skin crawl, a reminder of the fishbowl existence she had been trying so hard to leave behind.

Something snapped inside of her. A spark of defiance, a refusal to be controlled by her father's machinations. If he thought he could control her, shape her into the perfect little media puppet, then he had another thing coming.

With a sudden, impulsive move, Ren jumped over the administration desk, causing Mr. Sato to yelp in surprise and leap out of his chair. Her pretty white summer dress twirled around her as she plopped herself down in his seat, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Since you made a promise to my father, and you're clearly a man of your word, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "So how about this? You won't change my schedule... but I will. You can even close your eyes, to maintain your innocence in this little crime."

Mr. Sato sputtered as she winked at him, his face turning red as he waved his hands in front of him. "Miss Ishikawa, please! I don't want any trouble, and I certainly don't want to upset your father."

Ren laughed, a reckless sound in the hushed quiet of the foyer as students exited to their next lessons. "Whose name is on that library?" Ren asked in a bored voice. "Whose name is on this schedule?" Mr Sato was a little taken back with the level of mischievous or even flirtatious familiarity she was displaying. "And who am I? Ren Ishikawa. So don't worry, Mr. Sato. It's all in the family."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the satisfying clack of the keys a counterpoint to the pounding of her heart. She was just about to hit the final button, to cement her small act of rebellion, when a voice cut through the air like a knife.

"What's going on here?"

Ren froze, her finger hovering over the 'enter' key. She knew that voice, knew the subtle menace that lurked beneath. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, meeting the cold, assessing stare of her father.

He stood on the other side of the desk, impeccably dressed in a pale suit that set off the striking silver of his hair and the piercing blue of his eyes. Even in his fifties, Akira Ishikawa was a handsome man, his features chiseled and his bearing regal. But there was a hardness to him, an aura of ruthless power that seemed to crackle in the air around him.

"Father," Ren said, her voice sounding small and childlike even to her own ears. "I was just-"

"Just causing trouble, as usual," Akira finished, his tone deceptively light. He turned to Mr. Sato, flashing him a charming smile. "I apologize for my daughter's behavior, Mr. Sato. She has a bit of a rebellious streak," his voice became low almost so only Ren could hear him, "a touch of the villain in her." Ren shuddered as he said it, feeling sheepish and childlike as she realised that she was as scared of him as she was at five years old. "But she won't be causing any more problems. Will you, Ren?"

Ren felt the fight drain out of her, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her father's gaze,buckling under the fear of retribution. She knew that look, knew the unspoken threat that lurked behind his genial facade. To defy him now, in front of all these people, would be to court disaster.

With a heavy sigh, she slid out of the chair, walking around the desk to stand before her father. "No, Father. I apologize for the disruption, Mr. Sato. It won't happen again." She bowed to the administrator in resignation.

A small crowd had gathered around the desk, drawn by the commotion and the presence of the famous father-daughter duo. Ren could feel their stares, could hear the buzz of their excited whispers. To them, it must have looked like a touching scene - the doting father, the chastened but adoring daughter. If only they knew the truth.

Akira reached out, pulling Ren into a hug that was just a little too tight to be comfortable. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You failed to secure the Todoroki boy's friendship, Ren. Consider this your punishment. You don't get to study what you want. You'll be training to join the family business, and that's final."

Ren stiffened, her heart constricting in her chest. So that was what this was about. Her failure to charm Shoto, to wrap him around her finger like a good little puppet. She should have known her father's offer of freedom was nothing more than a leash he could yank whenever she stepped out of line.

But she couldn't let the onlookers see her pain, her humiliation. So she forced a smile, returning her father's embrace with affection. "Of course, Father. I understand."

Akira pulled back, his hand lingering on her shoulder in a gesture that might have looked paternal to the outside eye. But Ren could feel the warning in his grip, the unspoken command to fall in line.

"Good girl," he said, his voice carrying across the room. "Now, off to class with you. Wouldn't want to be late on your first day."

Ren nodded, her smile feeling like a mask stretched too tight across her face. She gathered her things, feeling the weight of her classmates' gazes on her back as she walked away from the administration desk. Her father remained there, chatting genially to Mr Sato who was apologising almost on Ren's behalf.

Beneath her obedient facade, Ren's mind was racing. She might have lost this battle, might have been forced to swallow her pride and bend to her father's will. But the war was far from over. Her eyes hardened with determination, her hands balled into fists as she realised Shoto was the answer to her problems.

As Shoto stepped through the grand entrance of U.A. on his first day, a sense of anticipation and determination settled over him. The hallways were bustling with activity, students hurrying to their classrooms, their greeting to each other filled the air. Shoto navigated the crowd with his usual cool composure, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the room numbers as he made his way towards Class 1-A.

Despite the buzz of energy around him, Shoto's mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a certain dark-haired girl. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice the magazines clutched in the hands of some of the older students, Ren Ishikawa's striking features gracing the covers. The headlines proclaimed her return to the city, sparking a flurry of gossip and speculation. Shoto frowned, a flicker of annoyance rising in his chest. It seemed that even here, in the hallowed halls of U.A., he couldn't escape the shadow of Ren Ishikawa. He had thought that this would be his chance to step out of his father's influence, to forge his own path as a hero. But now, it seemed that Ren's presence would follow him even here.

Lost in thought, Shoto was completely oblivious to the stares and whispers that followed him as he walked. The girls in the corridors eyed him appreciatively, taking in his striking features and the air of mystery that seemed to cling to him. But Shoto paid them no mind, his focus solely on the challenges that lay ahead.

As he entered the classroom, Shoto's gaze swept over his new classmates, assessing the competition. They were a diverse group, each with their own unique quirks and personalities. Some looked eager and excited, while others seemed more reserved, sizing each other up with wary eyes.

As he made his way to a desk at the back, the perfect spot for someone so introverted, Shoto's attention was drawn to a group of girls clustered around a neighbouring desk, their excited whispers carrying across the room. As he got closer, he realised they were talking about Ren, their voices tinged with a mix of admiration and envy.

"Hey, Yaoyorozu," one of the shorter girls said, turning to the tall, dark-haired girl a little way away. "You're from a wealthy family, right? Do you know Ren Ishikawa?"

Yaoyorozu looked up, a polite smile on her face. "We've met at a few social events, but I wouldn't say I know her well. She's always been a bit of a mystery."

Shoto's frown deepened, a sense of disquiet settling in his gut. It was strange, hearing Ren talked about like some sort of celebrity, a figure to be admired and dissected from afar. To him, she was just Ren - the girl next door, the one who had always been able to get under his skin like no one else.

But as he took his seat, Shoto couldn't help but wonder how well he really knew her. Their interactions had always been coloured by the expectations of their families, by the roles they were meant to play. He had seen glimpses of the real Ren - the fierce, independent girl who refused to be defined by her family name. But he had never been able to get past her walls, to truly understand what made her tick.

And yet, despite himself, Shoto found that he wanted to. Even as he tried to focus on his own goals, his own path to becoming a hero, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. There was something about her that drew him in, something that he couldn't help but admire. He thought back to their last meeting, to the way she had challenged him, pushed him to question everything he thought he knew. Her rebellious streak, her refusal to conform to the expectations of the world around her - it was like a breath of fresh air to Shoto, who had spent his entire life suffocating under the weight of his father's ambitions.

In a way, he envied her. Envied the way she seemed to know exactly who she was, what she wanted. While he was still struggling to find his place, to carve out an identity separate from his father's shadow, Ren seemed to have a clarity of purpose that he could only dream of.

And then, unbidden, an image flashed through his mind - Ren, her grey eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips curved in that infuriatingly tempting smirk. She was not the little girl on the other side of the fence anymore. Shoto's heart stuttered in his chest, a flush rising to his cheeks as he realised, with a start, that he found her attractive.

Shoto shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not now. He had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let anything get in the way of his goals. And yet, as much as he tried to push her from his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ren Ishikawa was going to be a part of his life, whether he liked it or not.

Just then, the classroom door slid open, and their teacher walked in, his presence commanding instant attention. Shoto sat up straighter, his focus snapping back to the present. Whatever the future held, whatever role Ren might play in his life, he knew one thing for certain - he was here to become a hero, to prove to himself and to the world that he was more than just his father's son.

As the teacher began to speak, outlining the challenges and expectations of the hero course, Shoto felt a new sense of determination settle over him. He would give this his all, would push himself to his limits and beyond to get out of his father's reach. And if Ren Ishikawa happened to be a part of that journey, well...He would just have to see where the chips fell. But one thing was for sure - Shoto Todoroki was not going to let anyone, not even a girl with stormy grey eyes and a rebellious streak a mile wide, stand in the way of his dreams.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking array of oranges and pinks, as Ren stood at the base of the old oak tree that straddled the property line between her family's estate and the Todoroki residence. The tree had grown significantly in the ten years since she'd last been here, its branches reaching towards the heavens like gnarled fingers, the leaves rustling gently in the warm evening breeze. She stood on her tiptoes to see over the fence into the Todoroki garden, before hoisting herself up so she had a clear view of it.

The garden seemed smaller, full of larger plants than she remembered. She supposed, after ten years, things would have herself had changed too, no longer the mischievous little girl who had spent countless hours perched on the branches of the oak tree, whispering secrets and dreams through the gaps in the fence. Now, at nineteen, she was a striking young woman, her dark hair cascading down her back in a sleek curtain, her grey eyes glinting with a mix of determination and apprehension.

She was dressed casually, in a pair of fitted jeans and a simple black top that hugged her curves, a far cry from the formal attire she had worn at M.U. that morning. She had to admit to herself, begrudgingly, that she had definitely chosen these clothes to be a little more suggestive than what she had worn to lunch with Shoto memory of that disastrous lunch made her wince, a pang of regret twisting in her gut. She had overstepped, she knew that now, had let her own bitterness and resentment colour her words and actions.

But she couldn't help it. Being around Shoto, seeing him so seemingly content to follow in his father's footsteps, to be moulded into the perfect hero... it stirred something deep inside her, a frustration and a longing that she couldn't quite put into words.

Because the truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, Ren was drawn to Shoto in a way that she had never been drawn to anyone before. It wasn't just his physical beauty, though that certainly didn't hurt - with his striking mismatched eyes, his chiseled features, the way his hair fell just so across his forehead. No, it was something deeper, a sense of kinship and understanding that seemed to transcend their years of separation. Ren shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. She had a mission, a purpose for being here that went beyond her own conflicted feelings for the boy next door.

Steeling herself, Ren reached into her pocket and pulled out a small stone. With a deep breath, she drew her arm back and launched the stone towards the house, aiming for the window that she hoped still belonged to Shoto. The stone clattered against the glass, the sound seeming to echo in the stillness of the evening. For a moment, nothing happened, and Ren felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should just...

But then, the back door of the house opened, and a figure stepped out into the garden. Ren's heart leapt into her throat, only to settle back down when she realised it wasn't Shoto, but his sister, Fuyumi.

Fuyumi looked much the same as Ren remembered, with her kind eyes and gentle smile. She was dressed in a simple sundress, her white hair pulled back in a neat bun small streaks of red hair still visible. When she caught sight of Ren standing on the other side of the fence, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Ren!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to the fence. "It's so good to see you!"

Ren felt a genuine smile tug at her lips, the first one in what felt like ages. "Hi, Fuyumi. You too."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, taking in the changes that a decade had wrought. Then, almost hesitantly, Ren asked the question that had been burning on her tongue since she arrived.

"Is Shoto home?"

Fuyumi blinked, then let out a soft laugh. "Yes, he is. But you know, Ren, we do have a front door. You don't have to throw stones over the fence anymore."

Ren felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I know. I guess I'm just not that smart."

Fuyumi shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips as if she were remembering the countless times a young Ren had pulled similar stunts. "I'll go get him for you."

As Fuyumi disappeared back into the house, Ren felt a sudden rush of nerves. She had been so focused on getting here, on making things right with Shoto, that she hadn't really stopped to consider what she would say once she was face to face with him.

And then there was the other problem, the one she had been trying so hard to ignore. The fact that, somewhere along the line, her feelings for Shoto had begun to shift. It had started so gradually that she almost hadn't noticed. A flutter in her chest when he looked at her a certain way. A warmth that spread through her body when he stood just a little too close. And then, at the restaurant, when he had touched her hand...

Ren swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She couldn't deny it anymore, what he was doing to her. But before she could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, the back door opened again, and Shoto stepped out into the garden.

Ren's breath caught in her throat as she took in his perfectly tousled hair and his intense, mismatched eyes. He was dressed casually, in a simple black t-shirt and jeans and she had to press her nails into her hands to distract her from the thoughts that suddenly sprung to mind.

He approached the fence slowly, his expression as unreadable as always. When he reached her, he said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Ren swallowed her nerves and held up the tin she had been clutching in her hands. "Peace offering," she said, trying for a light tone. "I'm sorry…about lunch" she winced as she said it, feeling the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks at her childish actions. "It wasn't my place to say what I said."

For a long moment, Shoto just stared at her, his gaze searching. Then, almost begrudgingly, he nodded towards the tin in her hands.

"What's in it?" he asked, never ready to forgive her instantly. Ren always had to beg a little. Please him a little. Put up with his teasing.

"Hana's famous red bean cookies," Ren replied, feeling a small spark of hope. Shoto had always loved Hana's cooking, had spent many an afternoon in Ren's kitchen, Hana looking after both of them, patching up his battle scars from training.

But Shoto just snorted, a wry twist to his lips. "I see. So you got Hana to do all the work for your apology?"

Ren frowned, stung by the jab. But then, a memory flashed through her mind - a tactic they had used as children, whenever one of them had wronged the other.

"Fine," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "I'll be your slave for the night. What would you like me to do?" The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them, and Ren felt a hot flush creep up her neck as she realised how they sounded, hanging in the air between them.

Shoto, for his part, looked equally taken aback, a pink tinge coloring his cheeks.

"I... I didn't realize how different that would sound now that we're not nine anymore," Ren stammered, trying to salvage the situation. Shoto cleared his throat, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Deep down, he had a feeling he knew exactly how it would sound. "So... do you want the cookies or...?"

It was an olive branch, a way out of the awkwardness, and Shoto seized it gratefully. "Do you want to come over?" He asked, at the exact same moment that Ren said, "Do you want to come over here?"

They both stopped, smiling awkwardly at each other as they realised neither of them wanted to cross the fence, to step into the other's territory. There was only one thing stopping them, one looming presence that cast a shadow over both of their lives.

"Is your dad in?" they asked in unison, then laughed, the tension broken by the shared understanding that neither of them wanted to face the other's father.

Ren glanced up at the old oak tree, its branches stretching out over the fence like a bridge between their two worlds. "Tree?" she asked, a note of nostalgia in her voice.

Shoto followed her gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Tree," he agreed.

A few minutes later, they were perched on one of the lower branches, Ren on her side of the fence, Shoto on his. It was achingly familiar, a mirror of countless afternoons spent in this very spot, sharing secrets and dreams and fears.

"You don't want to meet my dad, huh?" Ren asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Shoto glanced at her, no emotion readable on his face. "Do you want me to?"

Ren shuddered, a visceral reaction to the very thought. "Not even a little bit. I think if my dad saw us together, he'd try to get us hitched on the spot."

Shoto let out a humourless chuckle. "Your dad too, huh?" Ren looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to be so aware of their fathers' machinations. But then again, Shoto had always been perceptive, had always seen more than he let on. "Endeavor's son and Ishikawa's daughter... the dream team," Shoto said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone.

Ren laughed, but there was no real humour in it. They looked at each other, really looked, perhaps for the first time since they were children. In that moment, a sense of understanding passed between them, a recognition of the shared burden they carried, the weight of expectation and duty that had shaped their lives.

"How was your first day at U.A.?" Ren asked, changing the subject.

Shoto shrugged, his gaze sliding away from hers. "You care?" Ren shot him a cold look, not appreciating the dismissal. But Shoto just sighed, relenting."It was fine. No real competition there."

Ren couldn't help but laugh at his arrogance, at the easy confidence with which he assessed his peers. "Think you'll get that first-class level of teaching your father is itching for you to have?"

Shoto nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I think so. Especially with All Might teaching the Hero Course."

Ren felt a jolt go through her, a mix of excitement and trepidation. "All Might is teaching?"

The information was like a gift, a precious nugget of intel that she knew her father would be thrilled to have. The Symbol of Peace, the greatest hero of their generation, taking on a teaching role... it was big news, the kind of scoop that could cement her place in her father's good graces.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, Ren felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Had Shoto shared this with her in confidence? He didn't say it was being kept quiet, a secret U.A. was trying to contain. And yet, here she was, already plotting how to use it to her own advantage.

She liked Shoto, more than she had ever admitted to herself before. She respected him, admired his strength and his determination. But she also needed this, needed the leverage that this information could give her. She had been fighting for her freedom for so long, had been chafing under her father's expectations and demands. If this was what it took to finally break free...

Shoto, oblivious to her inner turmoil, just nodded. "Yeah. How was your first day?"

Ren shook herself out of her thoughts, forcing a smile. "So so. Nothing to report."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Is that a journalism joke?"

Ren blinked, then laughed, realising the unintentional pun. For a moment, the tension between them eased, replaced by a sense of camaraderie, of shared history and understanding. But all too soon, the moment passed, and they were left staring at each other, the weight of all the things unsaid hanging heavy in the air between them.

"Well," Shoto said, breaking the silence. "I should probably head back in."

Ren nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment that shot through her. "Yeah, me too." Before either of them could move, Ren suddenly held out her phone. "Give me your number, save me throwing stones."

Shoto blinked, looking taken aback. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he felt a small jolt of surprise along his spine as she did not ask but commanded him. "I... sure. I mean, yes. That would be... yes."

Ren grinned, charmed by his flustered response. "What, a girl's never asked for your number before?"

Shoto shook his head, looking embarrassed. "No, not really."

Ren raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. With his looks, his talent, his family name... there was no way Shoto Todoroki hadn't been fending off advances from girls left and right. "I believe you," she winked and nudged her phone in his direction. When he handed it back, their fingers brushed, and Ren felt a jolt of electricity run through her, a spark that had nothing to do with Shoto's quirk.

They climbed down from the tree, landing softly on their respective sides of the fence. For a moment, they just stood there, neither quite ready to walk away.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Goodnight, Shoto."

"Goodnight, Ren."

The girl didn't look back as she walked towards the house, but she could feel Shoto's eyes on her, burning through the fence. She could sense the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

As Ren stepped into her family home, a chill ran down her spine. The grand, sprawling mansion had always felt more like a mausoleum than a place of warmth and love, with its dark, gothic architecture and oppressive atmosphere. The ghosts of her childhood seemed to linger in every corner, whispering stories of loneliness, neglect, and the heavy burden of expectation. She made her way through the dimly lit hallways, her footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. The walls were lined with portraits of her ancestors, their painted eyes following her as she walked, judging, appraising. Ren kept her gaze straight ahead, refusing to cower under their silent scrutiny.

When she reached the heavy oak door of her father's study, she paused, her hand hovering over the ornate brass handle. She could hear the muffled sounds of television from within, the endless chatter of news anchors and pundits, the white noise that had been the soundtrack of her childhood.

With a deep breath, Ren pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The study was cavernous, with high, vaulted ceilings and walls lined with towering bookshelves. But the most striking feature was the wall of television screens that dominated the far end of the room, each one tuned to a different news channel. The flickering light cast an eerie glow over the space, washing everything in shades of blue and grey.

And there, silhouetted against the wall of screens, sat her father.

Akira Ishikawa was an imposing figure as always, even seated behind his massive mahogany desk. He was dressed impeccably, in a perfectly tailored black suit, his silver hair gleaming in the artificial light. His face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his eyes a piercing blue that seemed to see straight through to the heart of whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves under his gaze.

Ren approached the desk, her steps measured and deliberate. As she drew closer, the images on the screens began to change, morphing from news reports to live feeds of the very room she was standing in. She saw herself from every angle, a thousand Rens staring back at her from the wall of screens. It was a reminder, a not-so-subtle message. In this house, in this life, there was nowhere to hide. Her father's eyes were always watching, always assessing, always ready to pounce on any weakness or vulnerability.

Ren swallowed hard, steeling herself. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, tossing it onto the desk with a clatter. The screen was still open to her contacts, Shoto's name and number glowing brightly in the dim light of the study.

"I got his number," she said, her voice sounding hollow and distant to her own ears.

Akira picked up the phone, his eyes scanning the screen with a critical gaze. "I'm disappointed it took you this long, darling daughter."

Ren bristled at the condescension in his tone, at the way he wielded the endearment like a weapon. She wanted to scream, to rage at him for the way he had manipulated her, used her, turned her into a pawn in his endless games of power and control.

But she couldn't, not yet. She still needed something from him, still had to play the dutiful daughter for just a little while longer.

So instead, she delivered the piece of information she knew would buy her what she wanted.

"All Might is teaching the Hero Course at U.A. this year."

Akira's head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. "What? That's huge!"

Ren could see the wheels turning in his head, could practically hear the gears of his mind grinding as he processed the implications of this news. The Symbol of Peace, the greatest hero of their generation, taking on a teaching role! Was All Might giving up hero work? Was he weakening in his old age?…it was a game-changer, a story that could make or break careers, shift the balance of power in the hero world.

And Ren had just handed it to him on a silver platter.

The guilt was like a physical weight on her chest, pressing down on her lungs until she could barely breathe. She had betrayed Shoto's trust, had used him for her own gain, just like her father had always used her. She couldn't look at Akira, couldn't bear to see the triumph in his eyes, the satisfaction of a plan well-executed. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Now transfer me out of the hero journalism track," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akira's brow furrowed, annoyance flashing across his features. "You really cannot see that you were made for this?"

Ren's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a fury that she could no longer contain. "Transfer me out of the fucking hero track," she spat, the words like venom on her tongue.

Akira tsked, shaking his head in disapproval. "Hardly a way to speak to your father."

Ren's blood boiled, a lifetime of resentment and anger bubbling up inside her. This man, this cold, calculating stranger who had never once shown her an ounce of genuine affection or care... he had the audacity to call himself her father?

You are no father of mine, she thought, the words burning in her throat, begging to be spoken aloud. But she swallowed them back, knowing that to voice them would be to invite retribution, to risk losing the small sliver of freedom she had just bought herself. So she waited, her heart pounding in her chest, as Akira tapped away at his computer, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen.

"It's done," he said at last, his voice flat and emotionless.

Ren's eyes snapped to his, searching for some confirmation, some proof that he was telling the truth. He met her gaze steadily, giving a small, curt nod. Relief washed over her, so strong that it nearly brought her to her knees. She had done it. She had won this small battle, had carved out a tiny space for herself in the suffocating confines of her life.

Without another word, she turned to leave, her steps quick and urgent. She needed to get out of this house, needed to breathe air that wasn't thick with the stench of manipulation and deceit.

But as she reached the door, her father's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Stay here, Ren. Don't return to campus. It's late." A pause, heavy with unspoken meaning. "This is your home, you know." Ren's hand tightened on the doorknob, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. Home. What a joke. This place had never been a home to her, had never been anything more than a pretty prison designed to keep her under her father's thumb.

She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, letting it slam shut behind her with a resounding bang. The portraits on the walls seemed to watch her as she walked away, their painted eyes full of silent judgment.

But Ren kept her head high, her steps sure and steady. She had won tonight, had taken back a small piece of herself from the man who had sought to control her every move. It was a start, a beginning. And as she stepped out into the cool night air, she felt a flicker of hope spark to life in her had a long way to go, a hard road ahead of her. But for the first time in a long time, Ren Ishikawa felt like she was finally, truly breathing.

The deception, the manipulation, the emotion! Not to mention the unresolved sexual tension…it's almost so good you could review.