She was home by eight.
The news was already playing the footage. Someone had recorded it on their phone. The explosion. The wall collapsing. Bakugo mid-air, his face caught in that perfect moment of focused violence.
She watched it three times.
Then she opened Twitter.
Mistake.
The Dynamight fan community was having a civil war in the replies of some post about the hottest pro hero. Someone had said it was Shoto. Someone else said Hawks. A third person—bravely, stupidly—said Deku.
She typed: it's literally Bakugo and if u disagree ur lying to urself
The replies came fast.
he's too angry
his face is mean
shoto is RIGHT THERE
bakugo looks like he'd kill me
yeah that's the point???
She kept arguing. She didn't know why. It wasn't like she'd convince anyone. But the wrongness of it made her chest tight. Made her feel defensive in a way that was probably unhealthy.
Someone replied: bakugo stans are so delusional lmao he's not even that attractive
She typed back: ur blind and i hope u recover from ur condition
They blocked her.
"Fuck," she said out loud.
She closed the app.
Opened it again.
Scrolled through pictures of him instead. The official agency photos. The fan-taken candids. The magazine covers.
There was a new one from today. Someone had caught him leaving the scene. His hair was messy. His expression annoyed. He looked perfect.
She saved it.
Her apartment was too quiet. It was always too quiet. One bedroom. Barely affordable. The walls were thin enough that she could hear her neighbor's TV through the plaster. Some drama. Lots of yelling.
She got up.
Changed into a tank top. Underwear. The good ones—the ones with the little grenades printed on them that she'd bought as a joke but wore unironically now because they made her feel... something. Close to him. Connected. Stupid.
She grabbed the plushie off her bed.
It was a limited edition Dynamight plush from three years ago. Officially licensed. She'd paid too much for it. It was worth it.
She curled up on the couch. Hugged it to her chest.
The fabric smelled like her laundry detergent. Not caramel. Not burnt sugar. Just... fabric.
But she closed her eyes and pretended.
Her throat felt tight.
"I love you, Dynamight," she said.
Out loud.
To the plushie.
In her empty apartment.
It sounded worse out loud. More pathetic. But she didn't take it back.
"I—"
"SHUT YOUR BITCH FACE UP!"
The neighbor. Through the wall. Loud enough that she flinched.
She didn't yell back.
Just sat there.
Holding the plushie.
Feeling the heat creep up her neck.
...
She didn't sleep well.
The agency building was taller than she'd expected.
She'd looked it up last night. After the neighbor yelled. After she'd put the plushie back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for two hours trying to figure out if this was real or if she'd imagined the whole thing.
The card was still in her pocket.
Real.
The building was in a good part of town. The kind of area where the rent was triple what she paid. Clean sidewalks. No graffiti. The agency name was on a brushed steel sign near the entrance: DYNAMIGHT AGENCY.
She stood outside for five minutes.
Her hands were sweating.
This was stupid. He probably didn't even remember her. He'd offered her the job because he needed bodies and she'd been there. Convenient. That was all.
She walked in.
The lobby was nice. Too nice. Marble floors. Leather chairs. A reception desk that looked like it cost more than her entire apartment.
There was a man behind the desk. Maybe mid-thirties. Suit. Slicked-back hair. He looked up when she approached.
Looked her up and down.
His expression didn't change but something about it made her feel... small.
"Can I help you?" His tone said he didn't want to help her.
"I'm here to apply. For the open position."
He slid a clipboard across the desk. "Fill this out."
She picked it up. Standard forms. Hero license number. Quirk registration. Emergency contact.
She filled it out standing there because there was nowhere to sit and he didn't offer.
When she finished, she slid it back.
"Dynamight told me about the position," she added. "Yesterday. At the jewelry store incident."
The man stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Not a friendly laugh. A dismissive one.
"Sure he did."
"He gave me his card—"
"Listen." He leaned forward. Elbows on the desk. "I get about twenty people a week coming in here claiming Dynamight personally recruited them. You know how many of those are telling the truth?"
She didn't answer.
"Zero." He picked up her form. Glanced at it. "One hundred and eight? You think Dynamight is personally scouting rank 108 heroes?"
Her face was hot.
"He told me—"
"He didn't tell you shit." The man's voice was flat now. Mean. "And even if he did, you think we're gonna hire some fat-ass hero who can barely crack three digits? We've got standards here."
The words hit like a slap.
Fat-ass.
She wasn't—
She was fine. She was normal. She was—
Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
The man smirked. Started to say something else.
A fist slammed down on the desk.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the lobby like a gunshot.
She jumped.
The man behind the desk went pale.
She looked up.
Red hair. Sharp teeth. Broad shoulders that blocked out the light from the window behind him.
Red Riot.
Kirishima.
He was glaring at the receptionist. His fist was still on the desk—hardened, rock-solid, the surface of the marble cracked in a spiderweb pattern under his knuckles.
"That's not manly," Kirishima said. His voice was low. Dangerous in a way that didn't match his usual PR-friendly persona. "Talking to a woman like that."
The receptionist opened his mouth.
Kirishima's glare sharpened.
The man shut up.
Kirishima turned to her. His expression softened. "Did Bakugo really ask you to come in?"
She nodded. Didn't trust her voice.
"Okay." He straightened. Pulled his fist back. The hardening dissolved, leaving normal skin behind. "Come with me."
He didn't wait for her to respond. Just turned and walked toward the elevator.
She followed.
Her legs felt shaky. Her chest was tight. She didn't look back at the receptionist.
They got in the elevator. Kirishima pressed the button for the top floor.
The doors closed.
"Sorry about that guy," Kirishima said. "He's new. Clearly not a good fit."
She nodded.
The silence stretched.
"Bakugo doesn't usually recruit people personally," Kirishima added. "So if he asked you, that means something."
She didn't know what to say to that.
The elevator dinged.
Top floor.
The hallway was quieter up here. Carpeted. Fewer people. Kirishima led her to the end, to a door with a brushed steel plate: K. BAKUGO - DIRECTOR.
He knocked once.
"Yeah," came the voice from inside. Rough. Impatient.
Kirishima opened the door.
The office was... not what she expected.
Clean. Organized. A massive desk near the window. Shelves lined with binders and case files. A computer. A coffee mug that said #1 HERO in peeling letters.
And Bakugo.
Sitting behind the desk.
No mask.
Reading glasses.
Reading glasses.
Her brain short-circuited.
He looked up. His eyes were sharp even through the lenses. Annoyed at the interruption.
"What."
Kirishima stepped inside. She followed, trying not to stare.
Failing.
"The guy at reception was being a dick to her," Kirishima said. "Told her she was lying about you recruiting her. Called her a fat-ass."
Bakugo's expression darkened.
"She's the one from yesterday?" Kirishima clarified. "The crystal quirk?"
Bakugo's eyes flicked to her. Held for a second.
"Yeah."
He pulled out his phone. Dialed without looking away from her.
Someone answered.
"Fire the receptionist," Bakugo said. "Today. I don't care if we're short-staffed. Replace him."
A pause.
"I don't give a shit. Handle it."
He hung up.
Looked at her.
"Go downstairs. Find Hana at operations. Give her your details. She'll get you set up."
He pulled open a drawer. Took out a keycard and an earpiece. Slid them across the desk.
"Keycard gets you into the building and the locker rooms. Earpiece is for patrols. Don't lose it. They're expensive."
She stepped forward. Took them.
Her fingers brushed the desk.
He was still looking at her.
"That it?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Then get out. I've got work."
Kirishima grinned. "Come on. I'll take you down to Hana."
She turned.
Walked to the door.
Her heart was pounding.
She'd just been in Bakugo's office.
He'd been wearing glasses.
Reading glasses.
She was going to think about that later.
Tonight.
Alone.