Day off.
Technically.
She'd had plans. Nothing big. Sleep past seven. Actual breakfast. Maybe a walk. Something that resembled a normal human life.
Nope.
Kenji had texted at nine AM.
please please please swap with me tonight. Riko finally said yes to dinner and my shift is 10PM-4AM I'm literally begging you amaya please I will owe you forever please
She'd stared at the message for three minutes.
Then typed: fine.
Sent it before she could change her mind.
Kenji had responded with fifteen heart emojis and a voice message of him literally crying with relief.
She'd listened to the first three seconds and closed it.
So now she had twelve hours to kill before her shift started.
Twelve hours.
Alone.
In her apartment.
On what was supposed to be her day off.
She stayed in bed until noon.
Not sleeping. Just existing. Staring at the ceiling. Watching the light change through the curtains. Listening to the neighbor's TV through the wall.
Some game show.
Canned laughter.
Eventually she got up.
Made coffee.
Stood in her kitchen in her underwear. The good set. Black cotton with little explosions and grenades printed on them. She'd ordered them from some hero merchandise site at two in the morning three months ago. They were comfortable.
She wasn't going to apologize for it.
She took her coffee to the couch.
Wrapped herself in the blanket. The big one. The weighted one that made her feel like she was being hugged even when nobody was hugging her.
Which was always.
Nobody was always hugging her.
She opened her phone.
Scrolled through social media.
Nothing interesting.
A video of a cat.
A ranking debate that had devolved into people calling each other idiots.
Someone's hero fashion blog she followed for reasons she couldn't explain.
Photos from some industry event last night. Heroes in suits. Looking uncomfortable.
She saved a photo of Bakugo looking particularly uncomfortable in a black suit.
Moved on.
Scrolled.
Scrolled.
Posted nothing.
Watched a video about deep sea fish that she didn't care about but watched for eleven minutes anyway because her brain needed something meaningless to chew on.
Watched another.
And another.
Before she knew it, it was three PM and she'd watched forty minutes of ocean documentaries and learned nothing because she hadn't been paying attention.
She switched to the fan club chat.
New photos. A few candids from this morning. Bakugo on patrol. Hair messy. Expression aggressive.
She zoomed in.
He had a cut on his jaw.
Small. Healing. Like he'd caught something during a fight.
She wondered when.
She wondered if it hurt.
She saved the photo.
She was so normal.
So incredibly normal.
Her stomach growled.
She hadn't eaten.
She looked toward the kitchen.
Decided against it.
Lay down.
Pulled the blanket over her head.
This was her life now. A blanket burrito on a not-actually-day-off. Eating nothing. Saving photos of a man who didn't know she was in love with him.
Potato.
She was a potato.
Not even a good potato.
A soft, slightly sad potato that lived on coffee and ambient yearning.
She lay there for a while longer.
Then hunger won.
She made toast.
Two slices. Butter. No other effort.
Ate it standing over the sink.
Then she showered. Because it was four PM and she hadn't showered yet and even potatoes had standards.
After that she felt slightly more human.
Sat at her desk. Opened her laptop. Thought about doing something productive.
Watched two more ocean documentaries instead.
At some point she napped.
Not intentionally.
Just... closed her eyes for a second.
Woke up at eight PM.
The blanket was somehow wrapped around her differently. She'd moved in her sleep. The plushie had ended up under her arm.
She lay there for a moment.
Oriented herself.
Night shift.
Right.
She had to be at the agency by ten.
Okay.
She could do that.
She got up. Changed. Not the hero costume yet. Just real clothes for the commute. She'd change at the agency.
Black hoodie. Jeans. Her trainers.
She looked in the mirror.
Fine.
Normal.
Not a potato.
She grabbed her bag.
The city at night was different.
Quieter. But not actually quiet. Just a different kind of noise. Bars. Late convenience stores. Groups of people too young to be tired. The distant sound of trains.
She liked night patrols.
The city felt more honest at night.
Less performance.
The agency was mostly empty when she arrived.
Just the night skeleton crew. Two sidekicks she recognized. A dispatch operator. Hana was gone. Some other coordinator at the desk instead. Younger. Less intimidating.
"Tsukino," the coordinator said. "You're covering Kenji's zone. Zone 2. Standard route. Check in every ninety minutes. Comms on."
"Got it."
She changed in the locker room.
Came back out.
Grabbed her earpiece off the charging rack.
Was about to head for the exit when—
The elevator opened.
Bakugo walked out.
Not in his hero costume.
Training clothes. Dark joggers. A black shirt that was too fitted and too short-sleeved for the temperature outside. Like he'd been in the building the whole time. Working out. Or working.
Probably working.
He never stopped working.
He stopped when he saw her.
"Tsukino."
"Bakugo-san."
His eyes flicked to her costume. To the earpiece in her hand.
"What shift are you on?"
"Covering Kenji's. Ten to four."
Something crossed his face.
Not quite a frown.
"Who approved that?"
"Kenji and I swapped. Coordinator cleared it."
He looked at the coordinator.
The coordinator sat up straighter.
"It was a mutual swap," the coordinator said. "Both parties agreed. I logged it."
Bakugo looked back at Amaya.
"You had the day off."
"I know."
"You're doing a night shift after a day off?"
"Kenji had a date."
A beat.
"Kenji had a date," Bakugo repeated.
"Yeah."
"And you gave up your day off."
"He asked nicely."
Something shifted in Bakugo's expression.
It wasn't quite amusement.
But it was close.
"Idiot," he said.
She couldn't tell if he meant her or Kenji.
Probably her.
"I'm fine," she said. "I slept today."
"You're always fine."
"Because I always am."
He stared at her for a second.
She stared back.
His jaw was doing the thing. The tight thing. Like he was deciding something.
"I'll take Zone 2," he said.
"What?"
"You can take Zone 6. Lighter traffic. Easier route."
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to."
"Zone 2 is fine—"
"Zone 6." His voice was final. "Unless you want to argue with me at ten PM on your day off."
She didn't.
Obviously she didn't.
She wasn't suicidal.
"Zone 6," she said.
"Good."
He grabbed an earpiece from the charging rack.
Which meant—
"You're doing a patrol too?" she asked.
"I'm always doing a patrol."
"It's almost ten at night."
"Crime doesn't stop at ten."
"You're supposed to have tomorrow's briefing at seven AM."
He looked at her.
"How do you know that?"
She panicked.
Internally.
Externally she was very calm.
"Hana mentioned it."
Not entirely a lie. Hana had mentioned it. In passing. Three days ago. And Amaya had remembered because she remembered everything about his schedule.
Completely normal.
Nothing concerning about that.
"Hana talks too much," Bakugo said.
He headed for the exit.
She followed.
They walked out together.
Into the night.
The cold hit her face. Sharp. The temperature had dropped since she'd come in.
Bakugo glanced at her hoodie.
"That's not a hero costume."
"This is my—I have the costume on underneath."
"Why the hoodie?"
"Because it's cold."
"Heroes don't wear hoodies."
"I just told you the costume's underneath."
He looked unimpressed.
But he didn't say anything else.
They walked in silence toward the split point. Where Zone 2 and Zone 6 diverged.
It was two blocks away.
Two blocks of quiet streets and cold air and him walking next to her.
She was very aware of him.
His stride. Long. Unhurried. Like he owned every street he walked down.
His hands in his pockets.
The faint smell of caramel.
"Why did you really swap with Kenji?" he asked.
She looked at him.
His eyes were forward.
"I told you. He asked nicely."
"That's not a good reason."
"It was good enough."
"You gave up a day off."
"I had nothing planned."
"That's the point of a day off. You don't plan anything."
"I was bored."
"So you chose a night shift over being bored."
"Yes."
He glanced at her. Sideways. Brief.
"You're weird," he said.
It didn't sound like an insult.
Just an observation.
"Probably," she said.
They reached the split point.
Zone 2 went left. Zone 6 went right.
They stopped.
He looked at her.
"Check in every ninety minutes. If anything escalates, call it in before you engage. Zone 6 has a spot near the underpass that attracts trouble around 2 AM. Stay out of it unless you've got backup."
"Okay."
"And take the hoodie off. You'll move better without it."
"It's cold—"
"You're a hero."
"Heroes get cold."
He stared at her.
She stared back.
She kept the hoodie on.
Something in his expression shifted.
Almost like he was fighting a smile.
He turned left.
Walked away.
"Stay on comms," he called back without turning.
"Copy," she said.
She watched him for a second.
Just a second.
Then turned right.
Started her patrol.
The earpiece crackled to life.
The coordinator running through standard check-ins. Other heroes reporting in.
She tuned it out.
Focused on the street.
The night.
The cold.
Her brain kept drifting back.
The two blocks.
His voice at ten PM. Rough. Lower than usual. Like the night made everything quieter except him.
The way he'd looked at her hoodie.
The way he'd almost smiled.
Almost.
Ninety minutes later her earpiece clicked.
"Zone 6. Check in."
His voice.
Not the coordinator.
Him.
She pressed her comm. "Zone 6 clear. Nothing to report."
A pause.
"Copy."
Then nothing.
She stood in the middle of a quiet street at midnight.
Smiled.
Small. To herself. In the dark where nobody could see.
...
This was fine.
She was fine.
Everything was fine.
She kept walking.