Tsukauchi

There's a point in every interrogation—

Every conversation—

Where you realize you're not going to get anything else.

Not because the other person has nothing to give.

But because they've already decided exactly how much you're allowed to have.

And no amount of pressure, logic, or patience is going to change that.

I looked at Izuku Midoriya—

Calm.

Collected.

Still bleeding, still sitting there like he had all the time in the world—and understood perfectly what he was doing.

—and I knew.

That point had already passed.

"...we're done here," I said finally.

Sansa looked up immediately.

"...we are?"

"Yes."

Hope.

Visible.

Immediate.

"...coffee?" he asked.

I exhaled slowly.

"...coffee."

Because at this point?

I wasn't even going to pretend I had control over how the rest of this played out.

Izuku stood without hesitation, like he had been waiting for that exact sentence. No hesitation, no stiffness—just a slight adjustment of his sleeve over the wound, like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

That bothered me.

More than anything else today—

That bothered me.

"You're still getting that checked," I added as we moved toward the door.

"After coffee."

"That was not—"

"It wasn't a refusal," he repeated calmly.

I didn't argue this time.

There was no point.

Behind us, Hawks pushed off the wall with a quiet chuckle.

"...I like him," he said again.

"You're part of the problem," I replied.

"Always have been."

At least he was honest.

We stepped out into the hallway, a few officers glancing over as we passed—curiosity obvious, questions unasked. I didn't stop. Didn't explain.

Didn't have the energy.

Not after that.

Sansa was already a step ahead, practically vibrating with anticipation.

"...you think he still has the good beans?" he muttered.

"He just risked half the city for them," Hawks said dryly behind us. "I'm going to assume yes."

"Good," Sansa said, entirely serious.

I rubbed my temple as we reached the exit.

"...this is absurd."

No one disagreed.

Outside, the air felt different.

Quieter.

Like the chaos from earlier had been pushed just far enough away to pretend it hadn't happened.

But it had.

And now—

We were getting back into the same car.

Going to the same café.

Like that was the most natural next step.

Izuku didn't wait.

Of course he didn't.

He headed straight for the passenger seat again, opening the door and getting in like it was already his.

I didn't comment this time.

Didn't even look.

Just walked to the driver's side and got in.

Sansa climbed into the back.

Hawks followed.

And just like that—

We were moving again.

"...you're really not going to tell me anything else, are you," I said after a moment, not expecting an answer.

"I told you enough."

"That's debatable."

"It's not."

I glanced at him briefly.

He wasn't even looking at me.

Just out the window.

Like this was over.

Like the conversation had ended exactly when he decided it had.

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

"I've been told."

"I believe it."

A pause.

Then—

"...your coffee better be worth this," I added.

That—

That got a reaction.

Just a slight one.

The corner of his mouth tilted.

"Don't worry," he said.

"It is."

I sighed.

Hawks

The place looked... normal.

That was the first thing that hit me when we stepped into the café.

After everything—everything—I expected something different. Hidden. Secretive. Maybe even a little ominous.

Instead?

Warm lighting.

Clean tables.

The faint smell of roasted beans lingering in the air like it belonged there.

Like nothing had happened.

Like this place hadn't just been the center of absolute chaos.

"...this is it?" I muttered, glancing around.

"It's a café," Izuku Midoriya replied flatly as he moved past me, already slipping behind the counter like he'd never left.

Fair enough.

Sansa didn't even wait.

He practically ran to the counter, eyes locked in like a man who had just found salvation.

"...please tell me you still have it," he said.

Izuku didn't answer immediately.

He was already moving.

Efficient.

Precise.

Like everything else he did.

He pulled out the beans first.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

Not rushed.

Not casual.

Like they mattered.

I leaned slightly against the counter, watching him work.

"...so this is the stuff," I said.

"The stuff," he echoed.

"Worth a city-wide incident."

He didn't look at me.

"This is a special delivery."

That caught my attention.

"How special are we talking?"

"For months," he said simply. "I've been waiting for this shipment."

I blinked.

"...months?"

He nodded once, already grinding the beans with practiced ease.

"Rare source. Limited yield. Specific roasting conditions."

I glanced at Tsukauchi.

He looked just as done with this as I felt—

But also...

Curious.

Very curious.

"...you're telling me," I said slowly, "we nearly died for rare beans."

"Yes."

"...I respect it."

Tsukauchi sighed.

"I don't."

"You will."

That confidence?

Unshaken.

Annoying.

And somehow—

Convincing.

I watched as Izuku worked.

Every movement had purpose.

Measured.

Controlled.

Water temperature—checked.

Timing—exact.

Extraction—perfect.

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

Even with one arm clearly not at full strength.

"...you've done this a lot," I noted.

"Yes."

"Clearly."

Sansa was practically leaning over the counter at this point.

"...it smells amazing," he whispered.

It did.

I couldn't even deny that.

Rich.

Deep.

Not bitter.

Not harsh.

Just—

Clean.

And then—

He finished.

Three cups.

Set down carefully.

One in front of Tsukauchi.

One for Sansa.

One for me.

I looked at it.

Then at him.

"...this better change my life."

"It will."

Bold.

I liked that.

I picked it up, taking a small sip—

And—

...oh.

Oh.

I froze.

Because that—

That was not coffee.

Not any coffee I had ever had before.

It was smooth.

Ridiculously smooth.

No bitterness.

No edge.

Just this deep, layered flavor that actually made sense.

Like every part of it had a reason to be there.

"...what," I muttered, staring into the cup like it had personally betrayed every other coffee I'd ever tried.

Sansa made a noise.

Not a word.

Just—

A noise.

Pure emotion.

Tsukauchi took a sip.

Paused.

Then another.

Slow.

Measured.

Like he was making sure this was real.

"...you outdid yourself," he said finally.

Izuku shrugged slightly.

"This is the special batch."

I looked at him.

Then back at the coffee.

Then back at him again.

"...okay," I said, setting the cup down carefully like it was suddenly valuable. "I get it now."

"Good."

"No, seriously," I continued, pointing at the cup. "If someone messed with this, I'd also commit crimes."

"I didn't commit a crime."

"Debatable."

"Incorrect."

Tsukauchi didn't even argue.

That was new.

I took another sip.

Slower this time.

Appreciating it.

"...this is the holy grail," I muttered.

Izuku didn't react.

But I could see it—

That tiny shift.

That quiet satisfaction.

Yeah.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

"...you might've been right," Tsukauchi admitted reluctantly.

"I am."

"...don't push it."

Too late.

I leaned back slightly, cup still in hand, wings relaxing just a fraction.

"...okay," I said. "New question."

Izuku didn't look up.

"Ask."

"...what else are you hiding in this place?"

Because after today?

After this?

There was no way this café—

And this kid—

Were as simple as they looked.