She woke up at 11 AM.
Late. Really late. But she'd earned it. Post-operation day off. Mandatory rest after a night mission.
She lay there for a moment. Staring at the ceiling. Cataloging the soreness in her muscles. The good kind. The kind that meant she'd worked hard and done well.
The events of last night were hazy. Adrenaline-blurred. The operation. The support call. The aftermath—
Oh god.
The aftermath.
I'm going to marry you.
She'd said that.
Out loud.
After ruffling his hair.
In front of everyone.
She sat up slowly.
Looked down at herself.
Grenade panties. The ones with the little explosions printed all over them. And the tank top. Black with "BOOM" written across the chest in orange letters. Her comfort clothes. The ones she wore when she needed to feel close to—
She grabbed the plushie from where it had fallen on the floor during the night.
Looked at it.
"Morning," she said.
It looked back at her with its embroidered scowl.
She tucked it between her breasts. Right in the center. Where it fit perfectly against the BOOM text.
"We had a day," she told it.
The plushie settled in.
She got up. Shuffled to the kitchen. Made coffee on autopilot.
Brought it back to the couch.
Sat down with the plushie still tucked in her tank top.
Grabbed the remote.
Turned on the TV.
The news was already on. She usually watched the morning hero briefing. Just background noise. Seeing what had happened overnight.
The screen loaded.
TRENDING NOW
She took a sip of coffee.
Number Two: JOINT HERO OPERATION DISMANTLES MAJOR TRAFFICKING NETWORK
Good. They'd made the news. Thirty-four arrests. That was—
Wait.
Number One.
Number One trending.
"I'M GOING TO MARRY YOU" - HERO CONFESSION GOES VIRAL
The coffee cup slipped in her hands.
Didn't fall.
She caught it.
Held it very still.
Stared at the screen.
There was video.
Someone had filmed it.
Of course someone had filmed it.
Everyone had phones. Civilians had been nearby. Someone had—
She watched herself on screen.
Reaching up. Ruffling his hair.
The angle was from the side. You could see both their faces clearly.
Her saying something. The audio was picking it up.
"I'm going to marry you."
His face. Complete shock.
Her continuing. Explaining. Declaring.
"I'm going to keep climbing and getting better and eventually I'm going to be someone you can't ignore."
The video cut off.
But the caption underneath:
RANK 60 HERO AMETHYST DECLARES MARRIAGE INTENTIONS TO DYNAMIGHT AFTER SUCCESSFUL OPERATION
She put the coffee cup down.
Very carefully.
Picked up her phone.
Seventy-three notifications.
She opened social media.
The video had 2.3 million views.
The fan club chat was exploding.
IS THIS REAL
WHO IS SHE
AMETHYST?? THE CRYSTAL HERO??
SHE'S RANK 60
I MEAN RESPECT FOR THE CONFIDENCE
BAKUGO'S FACE IM DYING
SHE REALLY JUST DID THAT
IN PUBLIC
ABSOLUTE MADLAD
She scrolled.
And scrolled.
Her name was everywhere.
Amethyst
Photos from her file. Her official hero profile. People were pulling up her stats. Her quirk registration. Her previous operations.
Someone had made a compilation of every time she'd been in the background of Bakugo's media appearances.
Someone else had created a timeline of her ranking jumps.
108 to 60 in two months - she's actually good
The analysis was everywhere.
And the discourse:
Is she serious?
Obviously serious
He looked shocked
He looked SCARED
No he looked like she hit him with a flashbang
WHICH IS FAIR
I respect the game
I too would declare marriage to Dynamight
But would you do it IN FRONT OF HIM
ABSOLUTELY NOT
She put her phone down.
Face down.
On the couch.
Next to the coffee cup.
The plushie was still tucked in her tank top.
She looked down at it.
"I'm trending," she said.
The plushie was aware.
"Number one trending."
The plushie had no comment.
"Above the actual successful operation."
Silence.
"I'm viral."
She lay back on the couch.
Stared at the ceiling.
The TV was still playing. Some talk show had picked it up. They were discussing it.
"—remarkable display of confidence—"
"—but is it professional—"
"—Dynamight hasn't issued a statement—"
"—Amethyst's agency had no comment—"
She grabbed her phone.
Opened her messages.
Kenji: BRO. BRO. WHAT.
Emi: AMAYA. CALL ME. NOW.
Her mother: Is this real? Are you getting married? Did you eat breakfast?
Kamiko: Turn off your phone. Don't read the comments. I'll see you when you come back.
And then.
Unknown number.
She knew that number.
We need to talk. Come to the agency. 2 PM. Use the side entrance.
Her stomach dropped.
She typed: Understood.
Sent it.
Put her phone down.
Looked at the plushie.
"He wants to talk."
The plushie waited.
"At 2 PM."
More waiting.
"Using the side entrance so I don't get mobbed probably."
The plushie's embroidered scowl seemed to deepen.
"I'm either getting fired or—" She stopped.
Couldn't finish that thought.
"I'm probably getting fired."
She got up.
The plushie stayed tucked in her tank top.
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.
Grenade panties. BOOM tank top. Plushie between her boobs. Hair a mess. Coffee-deprived face.
"I'm a professional hero," she told her reflection.
Her reflection looked unconvinced.
"I'm rank sixty."
Slightly more convinced.
"I'm viral for declaring marriage intentions to my boss."
The conviction died.
She showered. Actually washed her hair. Put on real clothes. Not the grenade underwear—those went in the laundry. Regular black underwear. Jeans. A sweater. Normal human clothes.
She left the plushie on the bed.
Couldn't bring it to this meeting.
That would be too much.
She made more coffee.
Sat on the couch.
Watched the clock.
12 PM.
1 PM.
1:30 PM.
At 1:45 she left.
The side entrance was empty.
No press. No fans. Just a service door that required keycard access.
She went in.
The hallway was quiet.
She took the service elevator.
Top floor.
The hallway.
His office.
She knocked.
"Yeah."
She opened the door.
He was standing by the window again. Same position as yesterday.
Hands in pockets. Looking out at the city.
He turned when she came in.
They looked at each other.
"So," he said.
"So," she echoed.
"You've seen the news."
"Hard to miss."
"2.3 million views last I checked."
"2.7 now."
He exhaled through his nose.
Not quite a laugh.
Not quite frustration.
Something between.
"You ruffled my hair," he said.
"I did."
"In public."
"Yes."
"And declared you were going to marry me."
"Also yes."
"Why."
She looked at him.
"I told you why. I'm going to keep climbing until I'm someone you'd consider."
"That's not—" He ran a hand through his hair. The same hair she'd ruffled. "You can't just—you can't declare that kind of thing in the middle of an operation."
"It was after the operation."
"It was in front of thirty people."
"I'm aware."
"It's trending."
"Very aware."
He stared at her.
She stared back.
"You're insane," he said.
"Probably."
"This is—this is unprofessional."
"I know."
"The commission is going to have questions."
"Let them ask."
"The media—"
"I don't care about the media."
"You should care—"
"I care about getting better," she said. "I care about the work. I care about climbing. And I care about you."
The room went quiet.
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
"Why?" he asked.
The same question from last night.
But quieter now.
More genuine.
She thought about lying. About deflecting.
Decided against it.
She was already viral. Already the topic of national conversation. Might as well be honest.
"Because you're the best," she said simply. "Not just at the work. At—everything. You're dedicated and skilled and you notice things other people miss. You care even when you pretend you don't. You run through the city at night to check on your employees. You leave painkillers on desks. You push people to be better because you know they can be."
She took a breath.
"And you're the standard I measure myself against. Every day. Every operation. Every ranking jump. I'm asking myself: Am I good enough yet? Am I close? And the answer is always no. Not yet. But I'm getting there."
He was very still.
"And you think one day—"
"One day I'll be close enough that you can't dismiss it," she finished. "That you'll have to actually consider it. Not because I declared it publicly. But because I'll have earned it."
Silence.
Long silence.
He turned back to the window.
She waited.
Finally he spoke.
"My mother wants to meet you."
She blinked.
"What?"
"My mother. Mitsuki Bakugo. She saw the video. Called me six times this morning. Wants to meet the girl who's 'bold enough to declare marriage to her brat of a son.'" He said it flatly. "Her words."
Amaya's brain was doing something.
Sparking. Misfiring.
"Your—your mother—"
"Wants to meet you. Today. Now, actually. I told her I'd ask."
"You—"
"If you don't want to, I'll tell her no. She'll be annoying about it but she'll get over it."
"I—"
She didn't know what to say.
Meet his mother.
His actual mother.
The woman who raised Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Today.
Right now.
"Why?" she asked.
He turned back to her.
Something in his expression was—
Resigned. Amused. Exhausted.
"Because apparently I can't ignore you anymore," he said. "You made sure of that."
Her heart did something violent.
"Is that—"
"Get your stuff," he said. "We're leaving in ten minutes."
"We're—"
"My mother's house is thirty minutes away. I said we'd be there by three."
"You already—you told her yes?"
He looked at her.
"You declared you were going to marry me in front of half the hero community," he said. "The least you can do is meet my mother."
Fair point.
Extremely fair point.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Let's—let's go meet your mother."
He nodded once.
"Don't let her intimidate you. She's loud and she'll probably insult me the entire time. Just—" He paused. "Just be yourself."
"Myself."
"The version that declared marriage intentions. She liked that version."
Oh god.
Oh god she was going to meet Mitsuki Bakugo.
The woman who raised this man.
Today.
In thirty minutes.
She was going to die.
"I'll get my stuff," she said.
"Meet me at the side entrance. Five minutes."
She left.
Walked to the elevator in a daze.
Got in.
Pressed the button for her locker.
Retrieved her bag.
Her phone.
Stood there for a second.
Breathing.
She was going to meet his mother.
Because she'd gone viral declaring marriage intentions.
Because she'd ruffled his hair.
Because apparently he couldn't ignore her anymore.
Can't ignore you anymore.
She smiled.
Couldn't help it.
Small. Private. Into her locker.
Then she grabbed her stuff.
And went to meet Katsuki Bakugo.
To drive to his childhood home.
To meet his mother.
On a random Wednesday afternoon.
After going viral.
After declaring marriage.
After two months at his agency.
Rank sixty.
Climbing.
Getting closer.
...
This was insane.
This was completely insane.
But she was doing it anyway.
Because when you declared you were going to marry someone in front of thirty people—
You might as well meet their mother.
Might as well commit.
All the way.
To the end.
...
Plus Ultra, right?
That's what All Might would say.
Go beyond.
So she was going beyond.
Way beyond.
Into territory she had no map for.
But she was going.
And that had to count for something.
...
Right?
Author's Note: Follow me on instagram for exclusive art.
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