I limped into the debriefing room like I’d survived a car crash. Which, given that Nolan hit with approximately the same force as a sedan doing seventy, wasn’t far off.

Reeves stood at the whiteboard with her arms crossed, still in her hero costume, those ruby eyes tracking my movement across the room. Noel sat in the front row with her portfolio open, posture perfect despite having spent twenty minutes unconscious on concrete. Usagi perched on the edge of her seat, fingers twisting together, looking at me like she wanted to apologize for something that wasn’t her fault.

"Sit," Reeves said.

I dropped into a chair near the back. Everything hurt. The healing was working—I could feel ribs knitting themselves together with that itchy, uncomfortable sensation of accelerated regeneration—but the process took time. More time than I currently had before the rest of my afternoon exploded.

"That," Reeves began, "was the most reckless, poorly coordinated, borderline suicidal team strategy I’ve seen in eight years of teaching."

Usagi’s face went white.

"It was also," Reeves continued, her mouth curving slightly, "one of the most effective."

Noel’s pen stopped moving.

"You exploited every weakness Team One had. Provoked their emotional responses. Created openings where none existed. And most importantly, you won." Reeves tapped the board. "Let’s discuss how you managed that without actually killing yourselves."

She pulled up match footage on the monitor. The recording started at the moment I’d walked into the center of the arena, hands in pockets, completely exposed. Noel made a small noise.

"D’Angelo walked into the open," Reeves narrated. "No cover. No defensive position. From a tactical standpoint, this is suicide."

"He was bait," Noel said quietly.

"Stark?"

Noel rose from her seat. The motion was precise, controlled. "Team One positioned Traore as primary defense with Fitzgerald maintaining ranged pressure. Cross served as mobile assault using spatial manipulation to control engagement distance. Their formation covered standard approach vectors."

She paused, glancing at the frozen footage. "The strategy was structurally sound."

"And Rome broke it by?"

"By being an idiot," Noel said flatly.

I grinned despite the pain. "An effective idiot."

Noel ignored me. "He drew their fire and attention. This allowed me time to scout undetected in astral form while Honjō secured the high ground position. By the time Team One recognized the real threat, we’d already compromised their formation."

Reeves nodded. "And when Fitzgerald knocked Cross out of position?"

"That was my fault," Usagi said, her voice small. "I saw Mera moving toward Noel’s body and I panicked. I should have trusted the strategy."

"Wrong." Reeves pointed at the screen. "You identified the immediate threat and neutralized it. Cross could have ended Stark’s participation permanently. Your shot prevented that. This is called threat assessment and priority targeting. You did exactly what you were trained to do."

Usagi’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

The footage continued. Reeves paused at the moment Nolan’s fist connected with my jaw, freezing the frame on my body ragdolling through the air.

"Traore’s awakening," Reeves said. "Full kinetic discharge. This should have ended the match immediately. Why didn’t it?"

"He tanked it," Noel said. Her voice had gone quiet again. "He shouldn’t have been able to tank it."

"Rubber Body," I said. "Absorbed the impact and distributed it across my entire frame instead of letting it concentrate at the point of contact. Still hurt like hell, but it spread the damage out enough that I didn’t just fold."

Reeves studied me. "That’s not an adaptive-type response. That’s a distinct ability."

"My registration covers it."

"Does it."

She let the silence hang there. I met her stare and held it until she moved on.

The footage showed me draining Nolan, my hand pressed against his forehead, his body going slack. Reeves paused it again.

"This moment," she said. "What happened here?"

"I grabbed his face," I said. "He stopped resisting."

"His Essentia output dropped forty percent in six seconds. That’s documented on the arena sensors." Reeves turned to face me fully. "Explain."

""Contact energy absorption," I said. "My Essentia reacts defensively when threatened. Traore’s overcharge created excess kinetic output that destabilized near his body. I pulled from that discharge to compensate for the damage I’d already taken."

"Kinetic discharge doesn’t travel through bone conduction."

"Maybe his works differently." I kept my tone level, factual. "The sensors would show residual energy around the impact zone. My body processed what was available."

Reeves’ eyes stayed on mine longer than comfortable. "First documented instance of your ability doing anything remotely observable."

"First time I’ve been punched that hard by someone mid-awakening."

She turned back to the screen. The portal sequence played next. My body disappearing through amber rifts, repositioning angles that shouldn’t have been possible, the fire fist combination that dropped Nolan’s guard before the final contact. Reeves let it run through to the horn without pausing again.

"Team Two advances to inter-school exhibition matches next month," she said. "You’ll face Century East’s top team. Their roster includes two Three-Star provisional heroes and a spatial manipulator who can fold buildings in half. You’ll need better coordination than what you showed today."

"We won, didn’t we?" I asked.

"You survived. There’s a difference." Reeves closed her laptop. "Stark, your astral reconnaissance was textbook. Honjō, your gum accuracy improved sixty percent since last week. D’Angelo, you’re a disaster who refuses to die and somehow makes that work."

"Best compliment I’ve gotten all day."

"It wasn’t a compliment." But her mouth twitched. "Dismissed. Medical wants to see all three of you before you leave. D’Angelo, especially you. Try not to collapse before you make it to the nurse’s office."

I stood. My ankle gave out immediately. Usagi caught my elbow, stabilizing me.

"Thanks."

"Are you really okay?" she asked.

"Define okay."

Noel gathered her things without looking at me. When she passed, her shoulder brushed mine. The contact was brief but deliberate. Our Essentia connected for a half-second—that vanilla and frost I’d tasted earlier—before she pulled away.

"Good match," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Don’t let it go to your head." She paused at the door. "And we’re still talking later."

"Looking forward to it, Short Stack."

Her jaw tightened. But she didn’t correct me. Didn’t snap. Just walked out with her chin up and her portfolio clutched against her chest.

Progress.