One week.
That's how long it had been since she'd joined the agency.
Seven days of small tasks. Patrol routes. Paperwork. Trying not to stare at Bakugo when he walked through the operations floor.
Failing at that last part.
Her job was... fine. It was fine. Mostly perimeter patrols in the lower-risk zones. Backup for senior heroes when they needed an extra body. Incident reports. So many incident reports.
And watching him.
Not officially. Obviously not officially.
But she'd learned his schedule. Knew he came in at six every morning. Left around eight at night unless there was an emergency. Took his coffee black. Yelled at people who interrupted him during case reviews. Wore the reading glasses more often than she'd expected.
She wasn't stalking him.
She was just... aware of where he was. At all times.
That was normal.
Probably.
Right now she was filling out forms. Again. Standard insurance documentation that should've been done on her first day but the system had glitched or someone had fucked up the filing or—whatever. It didn't matter.
Full Legal Name: Amaya Tsukino
Hero Name: Amethyst
Quirk Registration: Crystal Manipulation (Emitter-class)
Emergency Contact:
She paused.
Wrote her mother's number.
Hated how pathetic that felt.
Date of Birth: April 3rd
Blood Type: AB
Known Allergies: None
She signed at the bottom. Slid the form into the tray on Hana's desk.
Hana—the operations coordinator—didn't look up. Just grabbed the form and added it to a stack that looked like it might collapse under its own weight.
"You're on patrol in twenty," Hana said. "Zone 4. You'll have an intern with you."
"An intern?"
"U.A. student. Work-study. She's been here a week longer than you so don't fuck it up and make her look bad."
Great.
Amaya grabbed her gear from her locker. Earpiece. Utility belt. The keycard she definitely hadn't used to sneak into the upper floors after hours to see if Bakugo was still in his office.
Twice.
She'd done that twice.
He had been, both times. She'd left before he noticed.
Probably.
The intern was waiting in the lobby.
Young. Maybe seventeen. U.A. uniform modified into something that looked halfway between school regulation and actual hero gear. Short dark hair. Nervous energy.
Amaya recognized her.
She'd watched the Sports Festival a few weeks ago. Watched all of it, because Bakugo had been a guest commentator for one of the matches and she'd needed to see him in a suit.
The commentary had been... aggressive. He'd called one kid's strategy "fucking braindead" on live television. The commission had fined him. She'd watched the clip fifteen times.
This girl—her quirk was water bubbles. Something about trapping people inside them and controlling the oxygen content. She'd made it to the final round before losing to some kid with a speed quirk.
"Tsukino-san?" The girl bowed. Too formal. Stiff.
"Just Amaya is fine," she said. "What's your name?"
"Nakamura Emi. But—um—you can call me Emi."
They walked out together.
The patrol route was standard. Zone 4 covered six blocks of mixed commercial and residential. Low crime rate. Mostly petty theft and noise complaints.
Boring.
Good for training.
They walked in silence for the first ten minutes.
Then Emi spoke.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why did you join this agency?"
Amaya glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Emi hesitated. Looked like she was choosing her words carefully. "Dynamight Agency isn't exactly known for being... welcoming. The atmosphere here is kind of intense. And Bakugo-san is—"
"The best hero in Japan," Amaya finished.
Emi blinked.
"That's why I joined," Amaya said. "He's the best. If I want to get better, I should learn from the best."
"Oh." Emi looked uncomfortable. "I guess that makes sense."
"Why are you here?"
"I didn't have a choice." Emi's voice went flat. "I wanted to intern at Shoto's agency. I applied six months ago. But they were full and my school coordinator assigned me here instead."
She said it like she'd been sent to prison.
"Shoto's agency," Amaya repeated.
"Yeah." Emi's face lit up. Actually lit up. "He's amazing. Have you seen his new ultimate move? Flashfire Fist: Phosphor? It's beautiful. And he's so calm under pressure. And his quirk control is perfect. And he's—"
"He's not stronger than Dynamight."
Emi stopped walking.
Amaya stopped too.
"What?"
"Shoto's good," Amaya said. "I'm not saying he's not good. But if you're ranking by raw combat ability, Bakugo's better."
"That's not—" Emi frowned. "Shoto is ranked number two."
"Because of public approval and case resolution. Not because he'd win in a fight."
"You can't just measure heroes by who'd win in a fight—"
"Why not?"
"Because that's not what heroism is about!"
"It's part of it," Amaya shot back. "And Bakugo's better at that part. He's faster. More aggressive. Better instincts."
"Shoto is more versatile—"
"Bakugo doesn't need versatility when he can just blow up the problem."
Emi's face was red now. "That's such a reductive way to look at—"
"You're just biased because you have a crush on Shoto."
"I do not—"
"You literally just spent two minutes describing his ultimate move like it was poetry."
"Because it's an objectively impressive technique!"
"So is Howitzer Impact."
"That's just a bigger explosion!"
"Yeah. And it works."
They were almost yelling now. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk. A few civilians were staring.
Amaya opened her mouth to continue the argument.
Glass shattered.
Both of them turned.
A shop. Electronics store. The window was broken. Someone was climbing out—two people, actually. Dressed in black. Bags in their hands.
"Shit," Emi said.
Amaya's hand went to her earpiece. "This is Amethyst. Zone 4, 3rd and Sakura. We've got a 10-31 in progress. Two suspects fleeing eastbound. Requesting backup."
She expected the AI dispatcher. The calm automated voice that usually responded to patrol calls.
Or maybe Hana.
Instead—
"Stall them. Don't engage unless they escalate. I'm three minutes out."
His voice.
Bakugo's voice.
In her ear.
Close. Too close. Like he was standing right next to her. That rough edge. That command that didn't allow for questions.
Her brain stuttered.
Her body didn't.
"Copy," she said.
Her voice sounded normal.
How did her voice sound normal?
She looked at Emi. "You heard that?"
Emi nodded. Looked nervous.
The suspects were running. Not fast. Weighed down by whatever they'd stolen.
Amaya moved.
Emi followed.
They closed the distance. Twenty feet. Fifteen.
"Hero presence!" Amaya called out. Standard protocol. "Stop and surrender!"
The suspects didn't stop.
One of them turned. Threw something.
A phone. Or a tablet. Something electronic.
Amaya's quirk activated. Crystals forming a shield in front of her face. The device bounced off. Clattered to the ground.
"We just want to talk," Emi said. Her hands were up. Non-threatening. "You don't have to make this worse."
"Fuck off!" One of the suspects—male, early twenties maybe—pulled something from his pocket.
A knife.
Small. Probably not even legal to carry.
Amaya's heart rate didn't spike.
She'd seen worse.
"Put it down," she said. Calm. Steady. "You pull that on a hero, it's assault with a deadly weapon. That's five years minimum."
"I said fuck off!"
He lunged.
Not at her.
At Emi.
Amaya moved without thinking. Crystals shot from her hand—not sharp, just a solid bar—and slammed into his wrist. The knife flew out of his grip.
He stumbled back.
The second suspect ran.
Emi sent a bubble after him. It expanded mid-air, caught him around the torso, lifted him off his feet.
He struggled. The bubble held.
The first suspect was on the ground now. Clutching his wrist. Probably sprained.
Amaya stood over him. Her crystals were still active. Coating her forearms like gauntlets.
"Stay down," she said.
He stayed down.
Footsteps behind her.
Fast.
She turned.
Bakugo landed in the street. Boots hitting the pavement hard enough to crack it. Smoke rising from his gauntlets.
He looked at the suspects. At Emi's bubble. At the knife on the ground.
His eyes flicked to Amaya.
"Good work," he said.
Two words.
That was it.
He walked past her. Started securing the first suspect with zip-tie cuffs.
Amaya stood there.
Her hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From the fact that his voice was still echoing in her ears.