Tsukauchi

I didn't even get the chance to tell him to wait.

One moment we were standing there—barely holding the situation together, officers regrouping, heroes scanning the area, debris still smoking—

And the next—

Izuku Midoriya just... walked off.

Straight past me.

Like this was over.

Like this had always been the plan.

"...where do you think you're going?" I called after him.

He didn't even turn around.

"To my café."

Of course.

Of course that was the answer.

I watched, mildly incredulous, as he headed directly for my car—my car—reached for the passenger door, and opened it like he owned it.

Sansa was already there.

Hand on the handle.

And instead of stopping him—

Instead of questioning it—

He just...

Opened the door wider.

For him.

"...Sansa," I said slowly.

He didn't look at me.

"...he got shot," he muttered, like that explained everything.

Izuku slid into the front seat without hesitation, settling in like this was completely normal.

No concern.

No awkwardness.

Just—

There.

Sansa closed the door carefully, then circled around and got into the back seat without another word.

I stared at the scene for a second.

Then pinched the bridge of my nose.

"...right."

Because clearly—

This was my life now.

I walked over to the driver's side, opened the door, and paused for just a second before getting in. Izuku was already leaning back slightly, one hand pressed against his injured shoulder like it was a minor inconvenience instead of a gunshot wound.

"...you're getting medical attention," I said as I started the engine.

"After coffee."

"That was not a suggestion."

"It wasn't a refusal."

I exhaled slowly.

Progress.

Maybe.

Before I could say anything else—

A shadow dropped beside the car.

I didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"...you've got to be kidding me," I muttered as I glanced up.

Hawks leaned down slightly toward the open window, one wing folding in just enough to avoid blocking half the street.

"Hey," he said casually, like we weren't in the aftermath of complete chaos. "Mind if I tag along?"

I stared at him.

"...this is a police vehicle."

"Yeah."

"You are a pro hero."

"Also yeah."

"You are not part of this investigation."

He smiled.

"This is the investigation."

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Because—

Annoyingly—

He wasn't wrong.

Behind him, Mirko snorted.

"You're seriously asking for a ride?"

"You're welcome to follow," he shot back.

"I'll pass. I've got paperwork to avoid."

"Smart."

She waved a hand dismissively before turning away, already heading off to deal with whatever mess was left behind.

Lucky her.

I looked back at Hawks.

Then at the situation.

Then at the kid sitting in my passenger seat like he hadn't just caused all of this.

"...why," I asked flatly.

Hawks shrugged slightly.

"Because no one is going to believe this story," he said. "And I want to see the coffee that caused it."

Silence.

Sansa leaned forward slightly from the back.

"...it's really good coffee."

I closed my eyes for a brief second.

Then opened them again.

"...get in."

Because at this point?

Why not.

Hawks grinned.

"Knew you'd say that."

He moved fast, slipping into the car with far too much ease for someone with wings, folding them in just enough to not completely take over the back seat.

Sansa shifted slightly to make space, though not without a quiet grumble.

I glanced at the rearview mirror.

At Hawks.

At Sansa.

Then forward.

At Izuku.

"...if anyone asks," I said as I pulled the car into motion, "this never happened."

"Agreed," Hawks said immediately.

"Absolutely," Sansa added.

I glanced at Izuku.

He didn't even look at me.

"...this happened," he said simply.

Of course he did.

I sighed.

And started driving.

Toward the café.

Toward answers.

And, apparently—

Toward the most dangerous cup of coffee in the city.

Hawks

I've been in a lot of weird situations.

High-speed chases.

Undercover operations.

Dinner with people I absolutely should not be having dinner with.

But this?

This ranked high.

The car was quiet.

Unnaturally quiet.

No radio chatter.

No debrief.

No one even trying to make small talk.

Just the low hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal as Naomasa Tsukauchi drove like this was a completely normal day.

Which it wasn't.

Not even close.

I leaned back slightly, wings tucked in tighter than usual to avoid taking up too much space, eyes flicking between the people in the car.

Tsukauchi—focused, but tense.

Sansa—still emotionally recovering from the near loss of his coffee supply.

And then—

The kid.

Izuku Midoriya.

Sitting in the front seat.

Bleeding.

Calm.

Like none of this was out of the ordinary.

"...so," I started, because I physically couldn't sit in silence any longer, "you do this often?"

No response.

Not even a glance.

"...I'm talking about the whole 'jump into moving trucks and start strangling people' thing."

Still nothing.

Tsukauchi shot me a look through the mirror.

"Not helping."

"Just asking questions."

"Not helpful ones."

"Debatable."

Silence again.

I clicked my tongue lightly.

"...tough crowd."

Then—

Finally—

Movement.

Izuku shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting his grip on his shoulder like the pain had just caught up to him a little.

And then he spoke.

"Keigo."

Everything stopped.

Not the car.

Not the movement.

But something else.

Something internal.

Because that—

That was not a name that got used.

Not here.

Not like this.

My posture didn't change.

Didn't react.

Didn't give anything away.

Years of training made sure of that.

But my attention?

Sharp.

Immediate.

Focused entirely on him.

"...that's new," I said lightly, like it didn't matter.

Like it wasn't a problem.

Like I wasn't suddenly very, very interested in how this kid—

This quirkless café owner—

Had just said my real name.

"Most people stick with 'Hawks.'"

"I know," he replied simply.

No hesitation.

No backtracking.

No reaction at all.

Just—

Matter-of-fact.

Tsukauchi's grip on the wheel tightened slightly.

I noticed.

Of course I did.

Sansa shifted in the back.

Tension creeping in.

Good.

So it wasn't just me.

"...you wanna explain that?" I asked, still keeping my tone easy, casual, like this was just another conversation.

Izuku finally turned his head slightly.

Just enough to glance at me.

Green eyes.

Steady.

Unbothered.

"You're not hard to research."

A pause.

"...that name is."

"It's not impossible."

He looked away again.

Conversation over.

Just like that.

I stared at the back of his head for a second.

Then huffed a quiet laugh under my breath.

"...okay."

Because that answer?

Didn't actually answer anything.

Not really.

That wasn't public information.

Not something you just find.

Not without access.

Not without digging in places most people didn't even know existed.

I leaned my head back slightly, eyes drifting to the window for a moment as the city passed by.

Processing.

Re-evaluating.

Because this kid—

This barista—

Had just casually dropped a name that was buried deep enough to make most people uncomfortable just knowing it existed.

And he said it like it didn't matter.

Like it was nothing.

"...you're interesting," I muttered.

No response.

Of course not.

But that was fine.