Chapter 3: Adjustments and Realignments

The brisk morning air greeted Jonathan as he stepped outside his apartment, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Kiko stood beside a sleek black sedan, her sharp gray suit as pristine as ever, a tablet clutched in her hand. She gave him a once-over, her expression betraying little, though her eyes lingered on the faint dark circles under his eyes for a moment.

"Good morning, Mr. Goldfield," she said, gesturing toward the open car door. "Get in. We need to talk."

Jonathan complied, sliding into the cool leather seat. The car's interior smelled faintly of citrus, clean and sterile, much like Kiko's demeanor. As the door shut behind her, the vehicle eased into motion, the low hum of the engine filling the silence.

Kiko didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Your performance yesterday was… acceptable," she began, her tone measured. Eight out of ten survivors were rescued in the simulation. That's better than average for a first attempt."

Jonathan tilted his head slightly, detecting the faint note of criticism under her words. "But not good enough."

Kiko glanced at him over the rim of her tablet. "You don't have the luxury of 'average,' Mr. Goldfield. The government monitors this program closely, and your progress is under a microscope. We can't afford mediocrity."

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his seat. "I didn't realize saving eight lives in sixty minutes was mediocre."

Kiko's lips pressed into a thin line, but her tone softened slightly as she tapped at the tablet. "Your dedication is commendable, but it's clear that the current schedule is pushing you too far, too quickly. Your quirk's limitations become apparent under prolonged use. Yesterday, you nearly collapsed. If this continues, you'll burn out before the program can achieve its goals."

Jonathan frowned, his fingers drumming against his knee. He hated appearing weak, but he couldn't deny the truth in her words. "So, what's the plan? More simulations, fewer survivors?"

"Not exactly," Kiko replied, scrolling through her notes. "I've spoken with the instructors and the Help Us coordinators. We're adjusting your schedule to focus on efficiency and recovery. You'll have more targeted exercises that emphasize strategy and pacing rather than brute force. We'll also build in time for physical recovery and quirk optimization."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Quirk optimization?"

Kiko nodded. "You've demonstrated an over-reliance on traditional domesticated animals such as dogs, falcons, and horses. While effective in some scenarios, they drain your energy faster than necessary. Yesterday's switch to mules and donkeys was a step in the right direction, but we must expand your repertoire. Think smaller, less resource-intensive creations."

He considered her words, a flicker of defensiveness rising in his chest. "I was going for reliability. Dogs, falcons, and horses are proven assets in rescue work."

"True," Kiko conceded, her tone patient but firm. "But you're not working with infinite resources, Jonathan. You're working with your own body. Your quirk isn't a limitless well. It would be best if you treated it like a finite resource. The same goes for your time and energy."

Jonathan leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past. He hated the idea of scaling back, of appearing anything less than capable, but he knew Kiko was right. The soreness in his muscles and the exhaustion clouding his mind were proof enough.

"What else?" he asked after a moment. "You said we're adjusting my schedule. How?"

Kiko turned her attention back to the tablet. "You'll still attend your core classes, but we integrate recovery periods and strategy sessions throughout the week. You'll also have access to specialized trainers from the Help Us Company to refine your use of Genesis and Noah's Arc. Think of it as tactical development rather than sheer output."

She paused, her gaze flicking to his face. "And, starting today, we'll monitor your nutrient intake and sleep patterns more closely. You'll have a weekly check-in with a quirk specialist to track any strain on your body."

Jonathan laughed low, though there was no humor in it. "So, basically, I'm a lab rat."

Kiko didn't flinch. "You're an investment. The government has poured significant resources into this program, and they expect results. My job is to ensure you deliver them."

He met her gaze, the weight of her words settling heavily in the car's confined space. "And what happens if I don't?"

Kiko's expression didn't change, but her voice dropped a fraction, carrying a sharper edge. "You already know the answer to that."

The silence followed was thick, punctuated only by the faint hum of the car's engine. Jonathan stared out the window, his jaw clenched. The stakes were clear, and they weren't going away.

As the car approached U.A., Kiko tapped her tablet again and leaned slightly toward him. "Remember, Jonathan. This program isn't just about you. It's about proving that this approach works for international cooperation, specialized training, and resource efficiency. Your success determines not just your future but the future of everyone in this program."

Jonathan exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. "There's so much pressure you guys are putting on me."

Kiko gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Pressure creates diamonds, Mr. Goldfield. Let's see what you're made of."

The car stopped in front of the sleek, glass-paneled building housing the Department of Management. Jonathan adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, his mind already churning with the weight of the day ahead.

"See you at the end of the day," Kiko said as he stepped out, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And don't forget…. you're being watched."

Jonathan nodded, his boots hitting the pavement with a resolute thud as he closed the door behind him. The car pulled away, leaving him at the edge of the bustling U.S. campus. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked toward the building, ready to face whatever came next.

Jonathan Goldfield's boots echoed faintly down the halls as he walked toward his classroom in the Department of Management. His usual stoic demeanor remained intact, though his mind replayed the conversation with Kiko earlier that morning. Balancing a grueling schedule with high expectations was a tightrope act he was still learning to master. He shifted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, silently bracing himself for another day of careful observation and cautious interaction.

When he reached the classroom door, muffled voices and laughter drifted through the thick wood. The sound gave him pause. His classmates were more animated than usual this morning. Curious but guarded, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He first noticed Hiroshi Tanaka, the wiry, bespectacled boy with boundless energy, standing at the center of a small crowd near the back of the room. On the desk before him sat a 3D printer, its clear casing revealing intricate internal mechanisms whirring as they worked. Hiroshi's face was lit up with pride, and he gestured animatedly toward the device as it produced a miniature replica of what looked like a damaged bridge.

"And here it is!" Hiroshi announced with dramatic flair, pointing to the finished product as the printer's arm retracted with a final click. "A scaled model of the Takoba River Bridge after the 2017 quake! Complete with stress fractures and all. Perfect for planning evacuation routes or structural reinforcements. Pretty sweet, huh?"

The small group surrounding him, Ayumi with her impeccable posture, Ren with her quiet intensity, and Sora with his ever-serious expression, leaned in to examine the tiny bridge. Even Ayumi, who often exuded an air of detached professionalism, seemed intrigued.

"It's remarkably detailed," she said, picking it up delicately. "You even accounted for the joint compression caused by aftershocks."

"Exactly!" Hiroshi beamed. "And I can do this for any structure, as long as I have the schematics or a clear mental image. Real-time simulations, scale models, you name it. You've got a disaster? I've got a solution."

Jonathan hesitated in the doorway, the interaction unfolding before him. The camaraderie among his classmates was obvious, and for a moment, he felt like an outsider looking in. Then Hiroshi caught sight of him and waved him over.

"Goldfield!" Hiroshi called out, his grin widening. "Perfect timing! Check this out: I'm revolutionizing disaster planning over here."

Jonathan walked toward the group, his steps measured as always. "Morning, Tanaka," he said, keeping his tone casual. "What've you got?"

"3D printing genius, that's what," Hiroshi replied, holding up the miniature bridge. "With this baby, we can analyze structural damage, plan rescue strategies, and coordinate real-time supply drops. I mean, imagine pairing this with your Genesis quirk. We'd be unstoppable."

Ayumi raised an eyebrow at that. "I don't think his quirk needs any help being impressive."

"Still," Hiroshi countered, his enthusiasm undeterred, "Imagine! He creates the living assets, and I make the models to guide them. Perfect synergy."

Jonathan took the model from Hiroshi's outstretched hand, inspecting it closely. The level of detail was undeniable, down to the tiny cracks and warped edges. It was impressive, even by his high standards. He nodded, handing it back. "Not bad. Though I'm guessing you'll need much more time and power for something larger."

"Oh, definitely," Hiroshi admitted with a sheepish laugh. "But that's why I'm here. To refine the process, reduce time, and make this tech battle-ready."

"You might be onto something," Jonathan said, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. "Could come in handy if you ever need to coordinate a bunch of mules in a disaster zone."

The group chuckled at the quip, and Hiroshi clapped him on the shoulder. "See? Goldfield gets it."

As the chatter continued, Jonathan felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. He wasn't one to dive headfirst into social dynamics, but moments like this reminded him that there was room for camaraderie even in a competitive environment.

Across the room, Ayumi's sharp gaze caught him for a brief moment. Her expression was hard to read assessing, as usual. She tilted her head slightly as if debating whether to say something, but the arrival of Professor Kagemura interrupted the thought. The tall man strode into the classroom with his usual air of authority, and the students quickly returned to their seats, the hum of conversation fading into silence.

Jonathan settled into his chair, adjusting his posture as Kagemura began the lesson. But his mind lingered on the interaction with Hiroshi and the others. For the first time, he felt he wasn't just navigating a battlefield of expectations. He was part of a team, however tentative that might be.

As Professor Kagemura stood at the front of the room, the lights dimmed slightly to emphasize the projection on the screen behind him. A map of a coastal city sprawled across the wall dotted with flashing markers indicating disaster zones. His sharp eyes swept the room, ensuring every student was focused before he began.

"Today's lesson," Kagemura said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had lived what he taught, "is about decision bottlenecks in disaster management. No matter how much planning you do or how many resources you have, you will face moments when time, information, or workforce runs out. In those moments, your leadership will determine success or failure."

He tapped the screen, and the map shifted to show a collapsed bridge with several red markers indicating trapped survivors. "Take this scenario. A massive earthquake has just struck. You have limited personnel and equipment. The bridge is your only route to transport aid, but clearing it will use critical resources. Meanwhile, survivors are scattered in multiple areas, and the aftershocks destabilize the terrain. What do you prioritize?"

Jonathan's hand instinctively gripped his pen tighter. The room buzzed faintly with murmurs as the students absorbed the scenario. Kagemura stepped closer, his gaze locking onto Jonathan for a moment.

"Goldfield," he called out, his voice sharp. "What would you do?"

Jonathan sat straighter, his mind racing. "First, I'd deploy scouting assets falcons or drones to gather as much real-time data as possible. Then, I'd prioritize stabilizing the bridge if it's the only route for aid and evacuation. But I'd also allocate resources to monitor aftershocks and ensure rescue operations don't put more people at risk."

Kagemura nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A strong answer. But remember, Goldfield, in a real-world scenario, you rarely have the luxury of doing everything. Sometimes, you must choose between saving lives now or ensuring you can save more later. The cost of leadership is making those choices and carrying their weight."

The class fell silent, Kagemura's words hanging in the air. Jonathan felt their gravity settle over him, heavier than he'd expected. Leadership wasn't just about strategy or execution. It was about responsibility and living with your decisions, regardless of their outcome.

Kagemura moved to the next part of the lesson, but Jonathan's thoughts lingered on the bridge, the scattered survivors, and the impossible choices. As the lesson continued, he scribbled notes in his notebook, though his mind circled back to Kagemura's challenge.

When the bell finally rang, Jonathan closed his notebook and sat back for a moment, the weight of the lesson still pressing against him. The day was far from over, and he knew this was just the beginning of the responsibilities he'd have to face.

Jonathan emerged from the classroom, the echoes of Kagemura's lesson still fresh. The decision-making exercise weighed on him. Leadership wasn't just about plans and logistics; it was about shouldering the burden of impossible choices. He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, exhaling as he walked down the polished corridors of U.A. toward the school's main entrance.

As he stepped outside, the late afternoon sun bathed the sprawling campus in a golden glow. A familiar black limousine waited at the curb, its polished exterior gleaming. Kiko stood nearby, her ever-pristine gray suit immaculate, her arms crossed as she scanned the passing students. Toru leaned against the limo, his usual scowl in place, arms folded tightly as he exuded his typical no-nonsense demeanor.

"Goldfield," Kiko called her tone as sharp and precise as ever. "You're late."

Jonathan quickened his pace, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Had to stick around for the lecture on impossible decisions. You know, my favorite topic."

Toru snorted but didn't comment, and Kiko arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his sarcasm. She opened the limo door and motioned for him to get in. "We've got a lot to cover. And someone to introduce."

Jonathan hesitated briefly, catching the slight change in Kiko's tone. It wasn't often that she sounded... cautious. He ducked into the limo, settling into the leather seat as Kiko slid beside him. Toru entered last, shutting the door with a firm click.

Jonathan immediately noticed he wasn't alone as the car pulled away from the curb. Across from him sat a young woman, commanding the space without effort. She looked to be in her early twenties, her fiery orange hair cascading over her shoulders like living flames. Her bright, piercing eyes practically glowed with energy, and a warm, infectious smile played on her lips. She wore a sleek, tailored red-and-gold jacket over a black bodysuit, the colors and design evoking the image of a phoenix. Golden earrings shaped like feathers dangled from her ears, catching the sunlight that filtered through the tinted windows.

"Jonathan Goldfield, meet Ignis," Kiko said, her voice cool but laced with an undertone of importance. "Your first sidekick."

"Sidekick?" Jonathan echoed, his brow furrowing as he glanced between Ignis and Kiko. "I thought I wasn't getting a team until later."

"This is different," Kiko replied, her tone firm. "Ignis is here to assist you directly. She's already been through the program and has extensive experience. Consider her both a resource and a partner."

Ignis leaned forward, extending a hand with an easy grin. "Hey, Babylon. Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Jonathan shook her hand, noting the strength behind her grip and the warmth radiating from her skin. "Babylon?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your handlers love codenames," Ignis said with a laugh, leaning back in her seat. "Yours has been floating around for a while. They say it's because of your knack for building things, creating life out of chaos."

Jonathan grimaced faintly. "That sounds a little grandiose."

"Doesn't it?" Ignis teased, her grin widening. "But hey, it's got flair."

Toru cleared his throat, his scowl deepening. "Ignis isn't just anyone, Goldfield. She's one of the most promising candidates this program has ever had. Her quirk, Phoenixfire, is versatile, powerful, and too good to waste. Yet here she is, assigned to you. Think about what that means."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, his curiosity piqued. "Why would someone like you be in this program? You could've made it as a pro hero, easy."

Ignis's smile faltered briefly, but she quickly recovered her light tone. "Let's just say I have my reasons. And besides, I like the idea of being part of something bigger—something that changes the world."

Jonathan didn't miss the way Kiko's gaze flicked toward Ignis, nor the tension that briefly crossed the sidekick's face. There was more to her story, something she wasn't sharing yet. He decided not to push, at least not now.

"So, Phoenixfire," Jonathan said, steering the conversation back. "What exactly can you do?"

Ignis's grin returned, and she raised her hand. Flames ignited in her palm, dancing along her fingers in mesmerizing arcs. "From my mom's side, I inherited this," she said, her voice conveying pride. "I can generate and control fire. But it's not just heat it's alive in a way. It can burn bright enough to light up entire rooms or fine-tuned enough to cut through metal."

The flames dimmed, and she flexed her fingers. "From my dad's side, I got something different. He had an Eagle quirk, sharp vision, heightened reflexes, and those iconic wings. Unfortunately, I didn't get the flying part, but I still have the agility and precision. Add the fire to that, and I'm a pretty decent package."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "You're underselling it. Sounds like you could take on most pro heroes and win."

Ignis shrugged, her expression turning playfully coy. "Maybe. But I'm here to work with you, not steal the spotlight."

The limo hummed softly as it moved through the city, and Jonathan couldn't help but steal another glance at Ignis. Her confidence was magnetic, and her energy was contagious. Yet something was guarded beneath her cheerful exterior, a flicker of something she wasn't ready to share.

As the limo turned toward their destination, Jonathan leaned back in his seat, his gaze flicking between Kiko, Toru, and Ignis. His mind raced with questions, but one lingered above the rest: Why would someone with her talent, charisma, and potential be tied to this program? Whatever the answer, he felt it wouldn't be simple or easy to uncover.

The limousine pulled to a smooth stop in front of a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Its exterior was modest, with warm wooden paneling and a glowing lantern hanging by the door. The name was written in elegant kanji. It didn't scream high-end, but it had a charm that hinted at quality. Jonathan stepped out, adjusting his duffel bag out of habit, and glanced up at the sign.

"A restaurant?" he asked, turning toward Kiko. "Not what I expected."

"You need food, not more punishment," Kiko replied curtly, stepping out behind him. She smoothed the front of her suit and gestured toward the door. "You've been running on fumes. Consider this part of your recovery process."

"Fancy," Ignis said as she hopped out of the limo, her vibrant orange hair catching the lantern's soft glow. She adjusted her jacket, the red and gold threads shimmering faintly. "Hope they've got something spicy."

Jonathan smirked faintly, following Kiko and Toru inside. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with low lighting that bathed the wooden tables in a golden hue. Soft traditional music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the quiet chatter of other diners.

Kiko led them to a private booth tucked in the back. Once seated, Jonathan took a moment to relax into the comfortable cushion. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, though he was keenly aware of Kiko's sharp eyes and Toru's ever-present scowl. Ignis, meanwhile, had already picked up the menu and was scanning it with an easy smile.

After placing their orders, Jonathan chose a hearty rice and grilled fish dish, while Ignis insisted on the spiciest curry on the menu. Kiko set her tablet on the table and leaned forward slightly.

"Let's get to it," she began, her tone as professional as ever. "The next training day is two weeks out, but we'll work daily to prepare for it. The stakes are higher this time. You won't be evaluated individually you'll be tested as a team."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass of water. "A team? It's just the two of us."

"Exactly," Kiko replied. "Which is why these two weeks are critical. You need to figure out how to integrate Ignis into your approach. She's not one of your creations and doesn't rely on your quirk. That gives her strengths you can't replicate."

Ignis leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "So, I'm here to prove I'm not just eye candy, huh?" she said with a teasing grin. "Don't worry, I'll make myself useful."

Jonathan's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You're pretty confident for someone who hasn't taken orders from me yet."

"Oh, I'm used to orders," Ignis shot back, her tone playful but with an underlying seriousness. "But you'd better make them good. I don't waste my time on mediocre leaders."

"Enough," Toru interjected, his gruff voice cutting through their banter. "This isn't a game. You both need to be sharp. The next test is a search-and-rescue scenario with added complications. You'll manage a simulated flood zone with limited resources and unpredictable terrain. There will be evaluators watching every move."

Kiko nodded. "Jonathan, your job will be to direct the entire operation. You'll be responsible for the lives of simulated survivors, coordinating your animals, and effectively utilizing Ignis. Ignis, your role is to assist wherever Jonathan deems necessary, using your quirk to provide support that his animals cannot."

Jonathan's mind whirred, already mapping potential strategies. "What's the terrain like? Are we talking urban, rural ?"

"A mix," Kiko interrupted. "Urban outskirts merging into open flood plains. Some structures, but they'll be compromised. Expect debris, strong currents, and limited visibility."

Ignis leaned back, folding her arms. "Sounds like a mess. Perfect for me."

Jonathan glanced at her, curious. "What's your edge in this kind of scenario?"

Ignis grinned, her confidence radiating. "Heat and light, for starters. I can evaporate smaller pools of water, dry out pathways, or clear fog. And I can handle carrying people if the terrain's too rough. You direct, I deliver."

Jonathan nodded slowly, appreciating the practicality of her abilities. "That could work. If I can pinpoint locations with the falcons and clear paths with the dogs, you can handle extraction in areas the animals can't reach."

Kiko tapped her tablet, bringing up a detailed map of the simulation zone. "Use these two weeks to refine that plan. Work out your communication, timing, and contingency strategies. The evaluators will look for how well you function as a unit, not just how many survivors you save."

The food arrived, interrupting the conversation momentarily as plates were placed in front of them. Jonathan's meal smelled rich and savory, the fish perfectly grilled and paired with a fragrant rice bowl. Ignis's curry, on the other hand, looked like it could set the table on fire. She dug in with gusto, but the heat did not match her quirk.

Jonathan ate his meal, his mind racing through potential scenarios. He glanced at Ignis between bites, noting her ease and energy. She was different from what he'd expected: flashy and confident but undeniably skilled. Whatever her reasons for being in this program, they didn't diminish her capabilities.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "you're okay taking orders from someone younger than you?"

Ignis paused, her fork mid-air. She smirked. "Age doesn't matter. Competence does. Show me you've got what it takes to lead, and I'll follow."

Jonathan met her gaze, his dark eyes steady. "Fair enough. Let's hope I don't disappoint."

Ignis grinned, and for a moment, the weight of the conversation lifted, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. They didn't know each other well yet, but their dynamic felt right. The real test would come in two weeks, and Jonathan knew he couldn't afford to fail.

The limousine pulled to a smooth stop in front of a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Its exterior was modest, with warm wooden paneling and a glowing lantern hanging by the door. The name was written in elegant kanji. It didn't scream high-end, but it had a charm that hinted at quality. Jonathan stepped out, adjusting his duffel bag out of habit, and glanced up at the sign.

"A restaurant?" he asked, turning toward Kiko. "Not what I expected."

"You need food, not more punishment," Kiko replied curtly, stepping out behind him. She smoothed the front of her suit and gestured toward the door. "You've been running on fumes. Consider this part of your recovery process."

"Fancy," Ignis said as she hopped out of the limo, her vibrant orange hair catching the lantern's soft glow. She adjusted her jacket, the red and gold threads shimmering faintly. "Hope they've got something spicy."

Jonathan smirked faintly, following Kiko and Toru inside. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with low lighting that bathed the wooden tables in a golden hue. Soft traditional music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the quiet chatter of other diners.

Kiko led them to a private booth tucked in the back. Once seated, Jonathan took a moment to relax into the comfortable cushion. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, though he was keenly aware of Kiko's sharp eyes and Toru's ever-present scowl. Ignis, meanwhile, had already picked up the menu and was scanning it with an easy smile.

After placing their orders, Jonathan chose a hearty rice and grilled fish dish, while Ignis insisted on the spiciest curry on the menu. Kiko set her tablet on the table and leaned forward slightly.

"Let's get to it," she began, her tone as professional as ever. "The next training day is two weeks out, but we'll work daily to prepare for it. The stakes are higher this time. You won't be evaluated individually you'll be tested as a team."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass of water. "A team? It's just the two of us."

"Exactly," Kiko replied. "Which is why these two weeks are critical. You need to figure out how to integrate Ignis into your approach. She's not one of your creations and doesn't rely on your quirk. That gives her strengths you can't replicate."

Ignis leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "So, I'm here to prove I'm not just eye candy, huh?" she said with a teasing grin. "Don't worry, I'll make myself useful."

Jonathan's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You're pretty confident for someone who hasn't taken orders from me yet."

"Oh, I'm used to orders," Ignis shot back, her tone playful but with an underlying seriousness. "But you'd better make them good. I don't waste my time on mediocre leaders."

"Enough," Toru interjected, his gruff voice cutting through their banter. "This isn't a game. You both need to be sharp. The next test is a search-and-rescue scenario with added complications. You'll manage a simulated flood zone with limited resources and unpredictable terrain. There will be evaluators watching every move."

Kiko nodded. "Jonathan, your job will be to direct the entire operation. You'll be responsible for the lives of simulated survivors, coordinating your animals, and effectively utilizing Ignis. Ignis, your role is to assist wherever Jonathan deems necessary, using your quirk to provide support that his animals cannot."

Jonathan's mind whirred, already mapping potential strategies. "What's the terrain like? Are we talking urban, rural ?"

"A mix," Kiko interrupted. "Urban outskirts merging into open flood plains. Some structures, but they'll be compromised. Expect debris, strong currents, and limited visibility."

Ignis leaned back, folding her arms. "Sounds like a mess. Perfect for me."

Jonathan glanced at her, curious. "What's your edge in this kind of scenario?"

Ignis grinned, her confidence radiating. "Heat and light, for starters. I can evaporate smaller pools of water, dry out pathways, or clear fog. And I can handle carrying people if the terrain's too rough. You direct, I deliver."

Jonathan nodded slowly, appreciating the practicality of her abilities. "That could work. If I can pinpoint locations with the falcons and clear paths with the dogs, you can handle extraction in areas the animals can't reach."

Kiko tapped her tablet, bringing up a detailed map of the simulation zone. "Use these two weeks to refine that plan. Work out your communication, timing, and contingency strategies. The evaluators will look for how well you function as a unit, not just how many survivors you save."

The food arrived, interrupting the conversation momentarily as plates were placed in front of them. Jonathan's meal smelled rich and savory, the fish perfectly grilled and paired with a fragrant rice bowl. Ignis's curry, on the other hand, looked like it could set the table on fire. She dug in with gusto, but the heat was no match for her quirk.

Jonathan ate his meal, his mind racing through potential scenarios. He glanced at Ignis between bites, noting her ease and energy. She was different from what he'd expected: flashy and confident but undeniably skilled. Whatever her reasons for being in this program, they didn't diminish her capabilities.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "you're okay taking orders from someone younger than you?"

Ignis paused, her fork mid-air. She smirked. "Age doesn't matter. Competence does. Show me you've got what it takes to lead, and I'll follow."

Jonathan met her gaze, his dark eyes steady. "Fair enough. Let's hope I don't disappoint."

Ignis grinned, and for a moment, the weight of the conversation lifted, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. They didn't know each other well yet, but their dynamic felt right. The real test would come in two weeks, and Jonathan knew he couldn't afford to fail.