Tsukauchi

I saw him the moment Hawks started descending.

Alive.

Conscious.

Bleeding.

Walking.

For a second, nothing else mattered—not the scattered officers, not the fading chaos, not even the villains slipping away into the city like ghosts.

Just him.

The kid from the café.

The one who made tea like it actually meant something.

The one who had been waiting outside this morning because his delivery didn't arrive.

"...you've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath as I moved forward.

Hawks landed lightly, setting him down with more care than his usual attitude suggested. The moment his feet touched the ground, I closed the distance, eyes already scanning.

Shoulder wound.

Gunshot.

Blood loss—moderate.

Posture—stable, but tense.

Expression—

Calm.

Too calm.

"What were you thinking?" I asked, the question sharper than I usually allowed myself.

He looked at me like I had just asked something obvious.

"That was my delivery guy."

I stared at him.

"...your delivery—"

"My coffee delivery," he clarified.

There was a pause.

A long one.

Because for a second—

I genuinely thought I had misheard him.

"...you started all of this," I said slowly, carefully, "because your delivery didn't arrive."

"I asked him a question."

"You strangled him in a moving vehicle."

"He used his quirk first."

"That does not—"

"Also pulled a gun."

I stopped.

Because—

That tracked.

Unfortunately.

Before I could say anything else, a very specific, very loud sound cut through everything.

"NOOOOO—!"

I turned.

Just in time to see Sansa absolutely lose what little composure he had left.

"Our coffee—!" he shouted, voice breaking in genuine distress as he sprinted past us, straight toward the driver being restrained on the ground.

"...oh no," I muttered.

Too late.

Sansa reached him in seconds.

"You—!" he snapped, grabbing the man by the front of his torn shirt and shaking him once, hard. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

The driver, already shaken and injured, could only stare at him in confusion.

"What—?"

"Our supply!" Sansa snapped. "Our lifeline!"

Then—

Without hesitation—

He reached down, yanked the gun from the driver's hand, and pulled back.

"Hey—!" one of the officers started.

Too slow.

A blur of movement—

And suddenly, Mirko was there, stepping in fast, ready to intercept.

"Oi—!" she snapped, reaching forward.

And then—

Everything froze.

Because in the span of a second—

Every officer nearby reacted.

Training.

Instinct.

Weapons raised.

Guns pointed.

Not at the driver.

At her.

"Stand down!" one of them barked, voice sharp, unwavering.

Mirko stopped.

Not because she was afraid.

But because she understood exactly what that meant.

Her eyes flicked across the group, taking in the number of weapons aimed at her, the tension in their stances.

"...seriously?" she muttered.

Sansa didn't even notice.

Still too focused on the driver, breathing hard, grip tight on the confiscated weapon like it personally offended him.

"You're done," he snapped at the man.

The driver just stared.

Utterly lost.

I exhaled slowly, stepping forward again, raising a hand slightly.

"Everyone," I said calmly, firmly, "lower your weapons."

There was hesitation.

Of course there was.

But slowly—

One by one—

They did.

Mirko huffed, straightening slightly.

"Next time," she muttered, "give a girl a heads-up."

"Noted," I replied dryly.

Then I turned back.

To him.

To Izuku.

Still standing there.

Still bleeding.

Still acting like this was all completely reasonable.

"...we are going to have a conversation," I said.

He shrugged slightly.

"...later."

I narrowed my eyes.

"That was not a suggestion."

He met my gaze.

Unbothered.

"I need to fix my supply chain first."

Behind me, Sansa made a strangled noise.

"...he's right," he muttered.

I closed my eyes for a brief second.

Then opened them again.

Because of course.

Of course this was happening.

"...we'll talk," I said again, more firmly this time.

He didn't argue.

Didn't agree either.

Just—

Stood there.

Like he hadn't just been at the center of the most chaotic incident I'd seen in a long time.

I took a slow breath.

Then another.

Because if I didn't regulate this situation now, it was going to spiral again—and I was not dealing with a second round of this chaos in the same day.

"...you," I said, pointing at one of the officers. "Check the truck."

He nodded immediately and jogged toward the wreckage, stepping carefully over debris and scorched metal. A few others followed, clearing space, making sure nothing else inside posed a threat.

For a moment, I thought—hoped—this would stay normal.

Procedure.

Containment.

Reports.

Then—

"Sir?" the officer called out.

I looked up.

"...yes?"

He stepped out from the side of the wreck, holding something very familiar.

A crate.

Marked.

Intact.

"...we found the cargo."

There was a pause.

"...coffee," he added.

Of course it was.

Behind me, I felt more than heard Sansa straighten instantly.

"...you found it?" he said, voice almost reverent.

The officer nodded.

"Looks untouched."

I exhaled slowly.

"Good. Then we'll—"

"We're confiscating it."

I blinked.

That hadn't come from me.

It came from one of the other officers, already stepping forward, arms crossed, tone firm like he was trying to regain some kind of authority after everything that just happened.

"This is evidence."

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"No."

The response was immediate.

Flat.

And it came from the person I least wanted it to come from.

I turned.

Izuku Midoriya stood there, still bleeding, still too calm, eyes locked directly on the officer who had just spoken.

"That's my delivery."

"It was involved in a criminal incident," the officer shot back. "It's evidence."

"It's coffee."

"It's still—"

"I run a café."

Silence.

Tense.

Uncomfortable.

Then—

"...I'll bring it," another officer cut in suddenly.

Everyone looked at him.

He shrugged slightly, stepping forward.

"I'll transport it," he clarified. "To his café. Securely."

A pause.

"Chain of custody remains intact," he added quickly, glancing at me.

Smart.

Very smart.

Because technically—

That worked.

I looked at him for a moment.

Then nodded once.

"...fine."

Sansa let out a relieved breath behind me.

"Thank god."

Across from us, both Hawks and Mirko were staring.

"...I'm sorry," Hawks said slowly, glancing between the crate, the officers, and Izuku. "Did we just risk half the city for coffee?"

"Yes," I said.

Mirko blinked.

"...you're serious."

"I wish I wasn't."

She looked at Izuku.

Then at the truck.

Then back at me.

"...I fought for this?"

"Yes."

"...I hate today."

"Noted."

Izuku, meanwhile, didn't seem remotely bothered by any of it.

Of course he didn't.

He just shifted slightly, already turning his attention back to me like this was the only part that actually mattered.

"We'll talk at my café," he said.

I narrowed my eyes.

"That was already the plan."

"Bring the coffee."

A pause.

"That's not how—"

"Bring the coffee," he repeated.

Flat.

Unmoving.

Behind me, the officer already had the crate in hand.

Ready.

Waiting.

Sansa looked like he might personally escort it himself if necessary.

I exhaled slowly.

"...fine."

Because at this point?

Arguing about that part wasn't worth it.

"We will talk," I said, more firmly now. "And this time, you don't get to walk away from it."

Izuku shrugged slightly.

"We'll see."

That was not the answer I wanted.

Not even close.