She didn't sleep.
Obviously she didn't sleep.
She lay in bed cycling through every possible version of the conversation.
About last night—
I'm sorry, I overstepped—
That was inappropriate—
I understand if you need to let me go—
By 4 AM she'd drafted her resignation letter three times in her head.
By 5 AM she was staring at the ceiling wondering if other cities needed heroes. Maybe Osaka. Maybe Kyoto. Somewhere far enough that she'd never accidentally run into him at a hero conference.
By 6 AM she gave up on sleep entirely.
Got up.
Showered.
Stood under the water for twenty minutes trying to drown the mortification.
It didn't work.
She got dressed. The professional version. Not the hoodie. Not the casual clothes. The actual put-together version of herself that said I am a competent adult who makes reasonable decisions.
A lie.
But a well-dressed lie.
She left early. Stopped for coffee she didn't want. Held the cup. Felt the warmth. Didn't drink it.
Arrived at the agency at 7:15.
Fifteen minutes before she needed to be there.
The operations floor was quiet. Early shift just starting. Hana wasn't even at her desk yet.
She went to the locker room.
Changed into her costume with mechanical precision.
Came back out.
Sat at her desk.
Stared at her computer screen.
Didn't turn it on.
Her heart was doing something unpleasant in her chest.
Racing. Stopping. Racing again.
She checked her phone.
No new messages.
Just the one from last night.
Go home. Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.
Tomorrow was today.
Today was now.
She was going to throw up.
She put her phone in her locker.
Came back.
Sat down.
At exactly 7:30 Hana arrived.
Set her bag down. Looked at Amaya.
"You're here early."
"Couldn't sleep."
Hana nodded. Didn't press.
The building woke up around them.
More heroes arriving. Dispatch starting the morning briefings. Coffee brewing in the break room.
Normal.
Everything normal.
Except she'd kissed her boss last night and run away like a character in a bad romcom and now she was sitting here waiting for the professional execution.
At 8:00 her earpiece crackled.
"Tsukino. My office."
His voice.
Flat. Professional.
Giving nothing away.
She stood.
Walked to the elevator.
Pressed the button.
Her hands were steady.
Good.
That was good.
Fake it until you make it and all that.
The elevator opened.
She got in.
Watched the numbers climb.
Top floor.
The doors opened.
She walked down the hallway.
The same hallway as last night.
The same door.
She knocked.
"Yeah."
She opened it.
Stepped inside.
He was at his desk.
Normal position. Coffee. Paperwork. Reading glasses on.
He looked up.
Their eyes met.
She waited for it.
The conversation. The firing. The we-need-to-talk-about-boundaries speech.
"Sit," he said.
She sat.
He took off his glasses.
Looked at her.
She looked back.
Held his gaze even though every part of her wanted to look away.
He opened his mouth.
Here it comes.
"The Lemillion case has three new developments," he said.
She blinked.
"What?"
"The trafficking network. Three new locations flagged. I need you to coordinate with their team. Full debrief. You'll go over this afternoon."
He slid a folder across the desk.
She stared at it.
"That's—"
"Time sensitive," he finished. "So clear your schedule. Take Sero with you. He's good with the data analysis and their tech team likes him."
She looked at the folder.
Looked at him.
He was already putting his glasses back on. Looking at his screen.
"That's it?" she asked.
"What else would there be?"
His voice was completely neutral.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
He glanced at her.
"Something else, Tsukino?"
The challenge was quiet.
Subtle.
But there.
She had two options.
Bring it up. Force the conversation. Make them both sit in the mortifying awkwardness of what she'd done.
Or.
Take the out he was offering.
Pretend it never happened.
Move forward.
Do the work.
"No," she said. "Nothing else."
"Good. Briefing's at nine. Don't be late."
Dismissed.
She stood.
Grabbed the folder.
Walked to the door.
Her hand on the handle.
"Tsukino."
She stopped.
Didn't turn around.
"Your ranking came through. Seventy nine. Officially."
Her chest did something.
"I saw," she said.
"Good work."
Two words.
Delivered the same way he'd deliver any other professional assessment.
But.
She heard something underneath.
Maybe.
Or maybe she was inventing it.
"Thanks," she said.
She left.
Closed the door behind her.
Stood in the hallway.
Breathed.
Okay.
Okay.
They were ignoring it.
They were just—
Ignoring it.
She walked back to the elevator.
Got in.
The doors closed.
She leaned against the wall.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Rank 79.
Coordination assignment with Lemillion Agency.
Working.
Moving forward.
Like nothing had happened.
Because nothing had happened.
She'd had a moment of temporary insanity.
He'd apparently decided to be generous about it.
And now they were both going to pretend her lips had never touched his face.
...
Fine.
She could do that.
She was professional.
She could absolutely do that.
The briefing at nine was standard.
She sat in her usual spot.
Took notes.
Bakugo ran through everything. Cases. Assignments. Logistics.
He looked at her exactly twice.
Both times completely normal. Professional. The way he looked at everyone when he was delegating tasks.
No lingering.
No weight.
Just: You're doing this. Be ready.
She nodded both times.
At the end everyone filtered out.
She packed up her things.
Sero caught up with her in the hallway.
"We're partnering this afternoon?"
"Yeah. Lemillion case."
"Nice. I like their agency. They have good coffee." He grinned. "And Togata's hilarious. You met him before right?"
"Once."
"Cool. It'll be fun."
Fun.
Right.
She spent the rest of the morning preparing.
Going through the files. Cross-referencing the data. Making sure she had everything organized.
Work.
Just work.
She was good at work.
At 1 PM she and Sero left.
The train ride was easy. Sero talked about nothing important. A movie he'd seen. Some restaurant his sister recommended. Normal things.
She half-listened.
Responded when appropriate.
Thought about this morning.
The folder sliding across the desk.
His voice. Completely neutral.
What else would there be?
The challenge underneath.
The out.
Lemillion Agency was the same as before.
Bright. Warm. Plants.
Mirio met them in the lobby.
That enormous grin.
"Tsukino-san! Good to see you again. And Sero! Man it's been a while."
They shook hands. Sero and Mirio fell into easy conversation immediately.
She followed them upstairs.
The briefing took two hours.
Detailed. Technical. Three new locations. Patterns in the movement. Connections they'd mapped.
She asked questions.
Good ones apparently because Mirio kept nodding approvingly.
Tamaki was there again. Quiet. Competent. He walked her through some of the surveillance data.
By 4 PM they had a full operational picture.
"We'll coordinate with Bakugo on timing," Mirio said. "Probably another joint operation. Week or two out."
She nodded.
Made notes.
They wrapped up.
Sero and Mirio were talking about something else now. Some mutual friend. She packed up her things.
Tamaki approached.
"Your analysis was solid," he said quietly.
"Thanks."
"You're getting better. At the work."
"Trying."
He nodded. Looked like he wanted to say something else.
Didn't.
Just nodded again and walked away.
She and Sero left.
Took the train back.
Got to the agency at 5:30.
She went straight to her desk. Wrote up the report. Detailed. Thorough. Exactly what Bakugo would want.
Submitted it at 6:15.
Her earpiece crackled.
"Tsukino. Report received. Good work. Go home."
She looked at the time.
6:16.
He'd read it in one minute.
Or he'd been waiting for it.
"Copy," she said.
She packed up.
Changed.
Left the building.
Walked home through the early evening.
The city was returning to normal.
More people out. More noise. The grief still there but starting to integrate. Becoming part of the background instead of the foreground.
Life continuing.
The way it always did.
She got home.
Made dinner. Real dinner. Rice and vegetables and an egg.
Ate at the table.
Her phone was next to her.
Face up.
No new messages.
She washed her dishes.
Sat on the couch.
The plushie was on the pillow.
She looked at it.
Got up.
Grabbed it.
Sat back down.
"We're not talking about it," she said.
The plushie waited.
"We're just—not. We're ignoring it. Both of us. It never happened."
Silence.
"Which is good. That's good. That's the professional thing to do." She adjusted it in her lap. "I overstepped. He's being generous. We're moving forward."
The embroidered scowl looked unconvinced.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "You're thinking about how his face looked when I pulled back. You're thinking about the surprise. The—"
She stopped.
"We're not thinking about that."
She lay down on the couch.
Held the plushie to her chest.
Stared at the ceiling.
"Rank seventy nine," she said. "Coordinating with Lemillion Agency. Doing good work. Getting better."
All true things.
Good things.
"So what if I kissed him and then we both decided to pretend it never happened. That's—that's fine. That's mature."
The ceiling didn't comment.
"It's fine."
She closed her eyes.
Felt his cheek against her lips.
The warmth. The stubble. The smell of caramel and whiskey.
The look in his eyes.
What else would there be?
"It's fine," she said again.
Quieter.
To herself.
To the plushie.
To the universe that had decided to make her life a continuous exercise in wanting things she couldn't have.
She lay there.
In the dark.
Holding the plushie.
Rank 79.
Professional.
Competent.
Completely fine.
...
The ache in her chest suggested otherwise.
But she was getting very good at ignoring aches.
She'd had practice.
Six years of practice.
What was one more ignored thing?
Just another crystal she was building.
Layer by layer.
Adjusting the density as needed.
Until it either shattered.
Or became something strong enough to last.
...
She was really hoping for the second one.