Week One
Unknown Number - 11:47 PM
You awake?
She stared at her phone. She'd just gotten home from a late patrol. Was sitting on the couch. Still in her hero costume. Too tired to change.
Yeah. Just got in.
Eat something.
I will.
Now. Not later.
Bossy.
It's literally my job.
She smiled. Got up. Made instant ramen because that's all she had energy for.
Took a photo of it. Sent it.
That's not real food.
It has vegetables.
Freeze-dried corn doesn't count.
It counts.
Get groceries tomorrow.
Yes sir.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Good work today. The rescue on 4th Street. Clean execution.
Her chest did the thing.
You saw that?
I see everything.
That's not creepy at all.
It's thorough.
Still creepy.
Sleep. You have early briefing.
You sleep.
I will.
Liar.
Go to bed, Amaya.
She went to bed.
Smiling at her phone like an idiot.
Week Two
Rank: 56
She checked it in the morning. Before coffee. Before anything.
Two spots in a week.
She texted him.
56.
The response came immediately.
Saw. Told you three months.
Two months.
We'll see.
Week Three - Group Chat: BAKUSQUAD + Amaya
Mina: EMERGENCY
Mina: KAMINARI ATE MY LUNCH
Kaminari: IT DIDN'T HAVE YOUR NAME ON IT
Mina: IT WAS IN THE FRIDGE
Mina: WHERE I PUT IT
Mina: THIS MORNING
Kaminari: the fridge is communal space
Jiro: You're an idiot
Sero: This is the third time this month Denki
Kaminari: I HAVE A PROBLEM
Kirishima: The problem is you don't bring lunch
Kirishima: Just buy food like a normal person
Kaminari: But Mina's mom makes good food
Mina: I'M TELLING HER
Kaminari: WAIT NO
Amaya: I have an extra protein bar if you want it Mina
Mina: YOU'RE MY FAVORITE
Kaminari: what happened to me being your favorite
Mina: You STOLE MY FOOD
Mina: Amaya is my favorite now
Mina: She's marrying Bakugo AND she shares food
Mina: Wife material
Kirishima: Can confirm
Kirishima: Bakugo's been smiling at his phone again
Sero: Gross
Jiro: Cute
Sero: Grossly cute
Kaminari: Are we not going to talk about how she said "marrying Bakugo" like it's a done deal
Mina: It IS a done deal
Mina: Check the spreadsheet
Mina: I updated the probabilities
Mina: 96% chance of engagement within 18 months
Amaya: There's no way it's that high
Mina: DO YOU DOUBT THE SPREADSHEET
Amaya: ...Yes?
Mina: [Image: Extremely detailed spreadsheet with charts and graphs]
Mina: BEHOLD
Kirishima: This is why you don't have a boyfriend Mina
Mina: EXCUSE ME
Mina: I'M FOCUSING ON MY CAREER
Jiro: Sure you are
Kaminari: I'm still hungry
Everyone: NO
Week Four - 2:34 AM
Her phone buzzed.
She'd been asleep. Deeply. The good kind of exhausted from a long patrol.
She grabbed it. Squinted at the screen.
Unknown Number
Can't sleep.
She blinked. Typed back.
Why not?
Tomorrow's the anniversary.
Oh.
All Might.
One month since the funeral.
Do you want to talk about it?
No.
Yes.
I don't know.
She sat up. Turned on the lamp.
I'm here if you need.
The dots appeared. Took a long time.
He used to make terrible jokes. Like genuinely awful puns. Would laugh at his own jokes before delivering the punchline. It was the worst.
She smiled.
Sounds annoying.
It was. I hated it.
I miss it.
Her chest ached.
What was his worst joke?
"Why did the hero cross the road? To save the chicken on the other side." And then he'd laugh for like five minutes straight.
That's terrible.
Told you.
Deku loved them though. Would laugh every time. Genuine laugh. Like they were actually funny.
Maybe they were to him.
Maybe.
Silence for a bit. Just the dots appearing and disappearing.
Thanks.
For what?
Being awake.
Always.
She meant it.
She'd stay awake for him. Anytime. Every time.
Sleep. You have Zone 3 tomorrow.
So do you.
I don't sleep much anyway.
Maybe you should try.
Maybe.
Goodnight, Amaya.
Goodnight, Katsuki.
She used his first name.
She didn't know if she was allowed to.
But he'd been vulnerable.
And it felt right.
He didn't correct her.
Week Five
Rank: 54
54.
Two months. I'm calling it.
One month.
Impossible.
Watch me.
I am watching you. It's concerning how much I'm watching you.
Still creepy.
Still thorough.
Week Six - Coffee Place on 6th Street
"So," Mina said. Leaning forward. Eyes sparkling. "Have you kissed yet?"
Amaya nearly choked on her coffee.
"What?"
"Kissed. Have you. It's a simple question."
"We're—we're waiting—"
"Waiting for official dating, I know. But like. Have you kissed? Accidentally? On purpose? At all?"
"I kissed his cheek once—"
"WE KNOW ABOUT THE CHEEK KISS," Mina practically yelled.
Several people in the coffee shop turned.
Mina didn't care.
"I mean like. Real kiss. Mouth kiss."
"No," Amaya said. "No mouth kiss. We're being professional."
"Professional," Jiro repeated. Skeptical.
"Yes."
"He texts you at 2 AM," Kirishima pointed out.
"That was one time—"
"It was four times," Kaminari said. "I know because he's been distracted during our gaming sessions and I keep winning and it's suspicious."
"We're just—we're talking—"
"About?" Sero asked.
"Work. Cases. His—" She stopped. "Things."
"Things," Mina repeated. "You're talking about things at 2 AM."
"Sometimes."
"And you haven't kissed."
"No."
"But you want to," Jiro said. Not a question.
Amaya looked at her coffee.
"...Yes."
"CALLED IT," Mina said.
She high-fived Kaminari.
"You bet on whether I wanted to kiss him?"
"We bet on everything," Kirishima said apologetically. "It's a problem."
"It's not a problem," Mina corrected. "It's a hobby."
"What's the current bet?" Amaya asked.
She didn't know why she asked.
Morbid curiosity probably.
"First kiss," Mina said immediately. "Kaminari thinks it'll be in the office. Kirishima thinks somewhere public. Jiro thinks private but not office. Sero thinks it'll be during an operation—"
"That's dangerous—"
"—and I think it'll be at his apartment."
Amaya stared at them.
"You've thought about this extensively."
"The spreadsheet has a tab for it," Mina said proudly.
Of course it did.
Week Seven - 6:42 PM
Unknown Number
What are you doing right now?
She looked around her apartment. She was meal prepping. Had containers everywhere. Rice. Vegetables. Protein.
Adulting.
Explain.
Meal prep. For the week.
You're cooking?
Shocking, I know.
I didn't think you knew how.
Rude.
I'm very capable.
You ate instant ramen for three days straight last month.
I was busy.
You need to eat real food.
I'm literally cooking right now.
What are you making?
Chicken. Rice. Vegetables. Very sophisticated.
Seasoning?
...Salt?
Amaya.
And pepper.
Give me your address.
What?
Your address. Now.
Why?
I'm bringing you actual seasoning. You can't eat unseasoned chicken for a week.
You don't have to—
Address.
She sent it.
Thirty minutes later her buzzer rang.
She opened the door.
He was standing there. In civilian clothes. Jeans. Black shirt. Holding a bag.
A grocery bag.
Full of spices.
"You didn't have to come over," she said.
"You were going to eat bland chicken."
"It was seasoned—"
"Salt and pepper isn't seasoning."
He walked past her. Into her apartment.
Stopped.
Looked around.
His eyes went to the wall.
To the poster.
The shirtless one.
The one she'd forgotten was there.
She died.
Actually died.
Right there in her entryway.
"Is that—" He turned to her.
"I can explain—"
"Is that the poster?"
"It's one of them—"
"One of them."
"There are three total but the other two are in the bedroom—"
Why did she say that.
Why.
His expression was doing something complicated.
"You have posters of me in your bedroom."
"I'm going to move them—"
"How long have they been there?"
"...Three years?"
"Three years."
"I bought them when they came out—"
"You bought them."
"Limited edition—"
"You paid money for posters of me."
"Yes?"
He stared at the poster.
Then at her.
Then back at the poster.
"This is insane," he said.
"I know—"
"You're insane."
"I know—"
"I like you anyway."
Her brain short-circuited.
"You—what?"
He walked to her kitchen. Set down the bag. Started unpacking spices.
"Your chicken is over-salted," he said. Like he hadn't just said what he said. "And you don't have garlic powder. Or paprika. Or literally anything useful."
"I—"
"Sit. I'll fix this."
"You don't have to—"
"Sit."
She sat.
Watched him move around her kitchen. Her tiny kitchen. With her mismatched containers and her over-salted chicken.
He fixed it.
Actually fixed it.
Seasoned everything properly. Showed her measurements. Explained flavor profiles like he was teaching a class.
She watched.
Tried to focus on the cooking.
Failed.
Focused on him instead.
In her kitchen. In her apartment. Where her posters were.
"I like you anyway," he'd said.
Casual. Easy.
Like it was just a fact.
Not a big deal.
Except it was a big deal.
It was the biggest deal.
He finished. Packed everything into her containers. Put them in the fridge.
Turned to her.
"You're set for the week."
"Thanks."
"Stop eating instant ramen."
"Okay."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
They looked at each other.
He glanced at the poster again.
"Still weird."
"I know."
"You're keeping it?"
"...Yes?"
Something that might have been a smile crossed his face.
"Good."
He left.
Just—
Left.
She sat there.
In her kitchen.
Where he'd just cooked in.
Where he'd seen her poster and said it was weird and then said "good" when she admitted she was keeping it.
Her phone buzzed.
One month. You're going to hit 50 in one month.
She smiled.
Typed: You think so?
I know so. I'm thorough, remember?
Creepy.
Get used to it.
She was getting used to it.
She was getting used to all of it.
The texting. The coffee dates with his friends. The way he showed up at her apartment with spices. The way he looked at her posters and didn't run screaming.
The way he said "I like you anyway" like it was simple.
Like nine years of pining and three posters and a public declaration and grenade underwear and a plushie tucked between her boobs every morning was all just—
Part of who she was.
And he liked it.
Liked her.
Anyway.
Week Eight
Rank: 52
52.
Three weeks.
Two weeks.
You're impossible.
You like me anyway.
Unfortunately.
Unfortunately?
Yes. Unfortunately. You've ruined my life. I think about you constantly. It's annoying.
She stared at that message for a full minute.
You think about me constantly?
I shouldn't have said that.
But you did.
Forget I said it.
No.
Amaya.
You think about me constantly.
This conversation is over.
Katsuki.
Go to bed.
It's 6 PM.
Then go... do something. Not this.
What are you thinking about right now?
How much I regret this conversation.
Liar.
Fine. I'm thinking about how you looked yesterday when you came out of the locker room and your hair was still wet and you were smiling at something on your phone and I wanted to know what made you smile like that.
Oh.
Oh.
Now I really regret this conversation.
It was a video of a cat.
What?
Yesterday. The smile. It was a video of a cat falling off a couch.
Are you serious.
Very serious. Mina sent it.
I'm going back to work.
Katsuki.
What.
I think about you constantly too.
The dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared.
Disappeared.
Two weeks. Hit 50 in two weeks and we'll talk about that.
Promise?
Promise.
She held her phone.
Smiled at it.
Two weeks.
She could do two weeks.
She'd done nine years.
Two weeks was nothing.
Week Nine - Group Chat
Kirishima: Did Bakugo just WHISTLE
Kirishima: IN THE HALLWAY
Kirishima: WHILE WALKING
Sero: Pictures or it didn't happen
Kirishima: [Image: Blurry photo of Bakugo in the hallway, definitely mid-whistle]
Mina: OH MY GOD
Jiro: That's concerning
Kaminari: Is he okay
Kaminari: Should we call someone
Mina: @Amaya what did you do
Amaya: I didn't do anything???
Mina: Lies
Mina: What did you text him
Amaya: Nothing!
Amaya: Just good morning
Kirishima: He whistled at a GOOD MORNING text
Kirishima: This is serious
Kirishima: He's in deep
Sero: We need to update the spreadsheet
Mina: Already on it
Mina: 98% chance of engagement now
Mina: Possibly higher
Kaminari: How is that possible
Kaminari: It was already 96%
Mina: THE WHISTLING CHANGED THINGS
Jiro: You're all insane
Amaya: Agreed
Kirishima: Says the girl who declared marriage in front of 30 people
Amaya: ...Fair
Week Ten - 11:23 PM
One week.
I know.
Are you nervous?
No.
Liar.
Maybe a little.
Me too.
Why are you nervous?
Because I've wanted this for nine years and now it's actually happening and what if—
What if it's not what I thought it would be?
It won't be.
Her stomach dropped.
Oh.
It'll be better.
Oh.
You think so?
I know so. I'm thorough.
Stop using that line.
It's true every time.
Katsuki.
Amaya.
One week.
One week.
Then we'll see.
Can't wait.
Me neither.
She fell asleep smiling.
Holding her phone.
One week.
Week Eleven - Day One
Rank: 50.
She checked it at 5:47 AM.
Before she was fully awake.
Before coffee.
Before anything.
She'd done it.
Actually done it.
She texted him.
50.
Her phone rang immediately.
She answered.
"Hello?"
"I'm outside your building."
She looked at the window. Drew back the curtain.
His car was parked on the street.
"What are you—"
"Come down. We're getting breakfast."
"It's 5:47—"
"I know what time it is. Get dressed. You have five minutes."
He hung up.
She stared at her phone.
Then scrambled.
Changed. Fixed her hair. Brushed her teeth.
Grabbed her keys.
Was out the door in four minutes.
He was leaning against his car when she came out.
Arms crossed. Waiting.
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"I'm rank fifty."
"I know."
"You said two months."
"I was wrong. You did it in eleven weeks."
"I'm very motivated."
"I've noticed."
They stood there.
On the sidewalk.
At 5:52 AM.
Just looking at each other.
"So," she said.
"So," he echoed.
"We're—we're doing this?"
"Yeah," he said. "We're doing this."
"Officially?"
"Officially."
"Dating."
"Dating."
"As in—"
He stepped forward.
Grabbed her face.
And kissed her.
Right there.
On the sidewalk.
At 5:53 AM.
In front of her building.
His lips were warm.
Slightly chapped.
Perfect.
She kissed him back.
Finally.
After nine years.
After three posters and a calendar and a plushie and grenade underwear and a public declaration and meeting his mother and being adopted by his friends and eleven weeks of texting at 2 AM—
Finally.
He pulled back.
Looked at her.
"Breakfast," he said.
"Okay."
"And then we're telling everyone."
"Everyone?"
"If I don't tell them, Mina will find out and the entire city will know within an hour."
Fair.
Extremely fair.
"Okay."
They got in the car.
He drove.
To a small cafe she'd never been to.
They ordered.
Sat across from each other.
And talked.
Like they'd been doing for weeks.
But different now.
Official.
Real.
He reached across the table.
Took her hand.
Just—
Held it.
"Eleven weeks," he said.
"Told you."
"You're impossible."
"You like me anyway."
"Unfortunately."
"Fortunately," she corrected.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
"Yeah," he said. "Fortunately."
She smiled back.
Fully.
Completely.
Nine years.
Eleven weeks.
Rank fifty.
And now—
Now they'd see.
Officially.
Together.
Finally.