3rd person POV

A rat-bear-dog thing is seen sitting at a desk. A furrow is present on his face as he reads the reports of one student. Perfectly placed mistakes seemingly invisible to the normal eye litter the test paper. Complicate answers that take up most of the pages turn out to be wrong. It seems like he's trying too hard, too hard to fail. He reads the teacher's notes that seem oblivious to the student's strategy, whatever this 'strategy' actually is. It seems off, he knows something isn't right, but can't quite put his finger on it. He switches to practical fights, recordings of the student's progress to try and confirm his week old suspicion. Nothing at first glance except an average performance. Why is it that when he looks at the class rankings he feels that someone isn't true to themselves? Why is it that he can't understand this kid's motive? The hope in his eyes shines as bright as ever, but how much of that brightness is actually his? Like the saying goes 'The brightest smiles hide the deepest pain.'. The principal sets aside the papers and leans back in his chair, his paws linger on the desk as he thinks. An idea pops in his mind, a way to force him to give up his mask, a risk indeed. A smile creeps up on his face, impressed that someone managed to fool him. He picks up the mouse and lightly taps the keyboard as he writes an email to the other teachers.

'Game on Izuku Midoriya.'