A couple of weeks later, the routine had... settled.

Not normal—Izuku wasn't sure his life would ever qualify as normal again—but steady.

Predictable.

Almost peaceful.

The bell above the café door chimed softly as morning sunlight spilled across the floor, warm and golden. Izuku stood behind the counter, tying his apron with practiced ease, already knowing how the day would go.

Morning meant police.

Like clockwork.

Right on cue, the door opened again.

"Good morning, Midoriya."

Izuku didn't even look up from adjusting the display case.

"Morning," he replied easily, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're two minutes early today."

A pause.

"...We are not."

Izuku glanced up, eyes glinting with amusement.

"You are."

The officer hesitated, clearly debating whether this was worth arguing over.

It wasn't.

They stepped inside anyway.

Routine.

Comfortable, in its own strange way.

At first, they had come stiff, cautious, hands hovering just a little too close to their weapons. Eyes scanning every corner like they expected villains to jump out from under the tables.

Now?

Now one of them was already sitting down before even ordering.

Progress.

Izuku hummed to himself as he prepared their usual, movements smooth and automatic.

Coffee. Black.

Toast. Slightly overdone.

They never said it outright, but he'd learned.

He always learned.

"That seat's crooked again," one of them muttered.

Izuku didn't even turn around.

"You kicked it yesterday."

A pause.

"...I did not."

"You did."

"...Oh."

Izuku smiled to himself.

Yeah.

Routine.

By midday, the café shifted.

The sunlight grew brighter, the quiet hum of the morning replaced with something a little more alive.

Lunch crowd.

And, inevitably—

The door opened with a tired creak.

Izuku didn't need to look.

"Welcome back," he called.

A familiar groan answered him.

"I'm only here because Mic dragged me."

Izuku finally glanced up, grin immediate.

There he was.

Messy hair. Half-lidded eyes. Permanent exhaustion etched into his very existence.

"You say that every time," Izuku said lightly.

"And every time it's true."

From behind him, a much louder voice cut in—

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, MIDORIYA, HE LOVES IT HERE—"

"Mic."

"—LIKE, DEEPLY, EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED—"

"Mic."

"—PROBABLY DREAMS ABOUT YOUR CAKE—"

"Mic, I will erase you."

Silence.

Then—

"...Rude."

Izuku laughed, already moving to grab plates.

"You want the usual?"

"Yes," Aizawa answered immediately.

"ABSOLUTELY," Mic added, dramatically throwing himself into a chair. "AND MAKE IT DOUBLE, I'M STARVING—"

"You're always starving."

"IT'S A LIFESTYLE."

Izuku snorted.

"Sure it is."

He worked quickly, placing plates down in front of them with practiced ease.

Aizawa didn't even hesitate—he picked up his fork immediately.

Mic, on the other hand, leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"YOU KNOW," he started, pointing dramatically at Izuku, "THIS IS STILL INSANE."

Izuku raised a brow.

"Is it?"

"YES," Mic insisted. "LIKE—LOOK AROUND."

Izuku did.

Same café.

Same tables.

Same warm light.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

"...I don't see anything weird," he said.

Mic stared at him like he'd just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

"YOU HAVE POLICE IN THE MORNING, HEROES AT LUNCH, AND VILLAINS IN THE EVENING."

Izuku shrugged.

"Good time management?"

Aizawa snorted into his coffee.

Mic looked personally offended.

"I'M SERIOUS."

"So am I."

A pause.

Then Mic leaned back, crossing his arms.

"...You're way too chill about this."

Izuku smiled, resting his chin on his hand.

"Maybe you're just too dramatic."

"I AM NOT—"

"Mic."

"...I am a little dramatic."

Izuku grinned.

"Yeah, I know."

Aizawa glanced up briefly, watching the exchange with quiet observation.

"...No one's reported you."

Izuku blinked.

"...Wow, straight to the point today, huh?"

Aizawa took another sip of his coffee.

"You're not subtle."

"I'm not trying to be."

"That's the problem."

Izuku tilted his head slightly.

"Is it?"

Aizawa didn't answer immediately.

Because... really?

That was the question, wasn't it?

Weeks ago, this place should have been shut down.

At the very least, investigated.

Villains walking in and out freely? Sitting, eating, talking like people?

It didn't make sense.

It shouldn't work.

And yet—

Aizawa glanced around.

At the officers who had long since stopped looking tense.

At Mic, already halfway through his second plate.

At Izuku, standing behind the counter like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"...You're not doing anything wrong," Aizawa muttered finally.

Izuku's smile softened.

"Exactly."

Mic leaned forward again, lowering his voice slightly—though "slightly" for him was still loud.

"OKAY BUT LIKE—WHAT ABOUT THEM?"

He jerked a thumb toward the door, as if the mere concept of villains might be lurking outside, waiting for their cue.

Izuku followed the motion with his eyes.

Evening wasn't here yet.

But it would be.

It always was.

"They're just customers," Izuku said simply.

Mic squinted at him.

"THAT IS NOT A NORMAL SENTENCE."

"It is in this café."

Aizawa exhaled quietly.

"...That's the issue."

Izuku met his gaze.

Calm.

Unbothered.

"Is it really an issue if no one's getting hurt?"

Aizawa didn't answer.

Because—

No.

No one was.

Not here.

Not in this space.

And that... complicated things.

Mic huffed, slumping back in his chair.

"I DON'T LIKE HOW MUCH SENSE THAT MAKES."

Izuku beamed.

"I try."

Aizawa set his cup down with a soft clink.

"...Hawks comes here alone now."

Izuku nodded.

"Yeah."

"He doesn't bring backup."

"Nope."

"...That's concerning."

Izuku laughed.

"Why? You don't trust him?"

"I don't trust you."

"Ouch."

But Izuku was still smiling.

Because he knew Aizawa didn't mean it like that.

Not really.

The bell above the door chimed again.

All three of them glanced over instinctively.

For a split second—

Tension.

Old habits.

Then it passed.

Just a civilian.

Order taken.

Life moved on.

Izuku leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms loosely.

"...It's kind of weird, though."

Mic perked up immediately.

"SEE, I KNEW IT—"

"No, not like that," Izuku cut in, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Just... a few weeks ago, this wasn't my life."

He gestured vaguely around the café.

"Now it is."

Aizawa watched him quietly.

"...You regret it?"

Izuku didn't even hesitate.

"No."

Simple.

Certain.

Mic tilted his head.

"...Not even a little?"

Izuku thought about it.

The chaos.

The weirdness.

The constant balancing act between worlds that weren't supposed to mix.

Then he smiled.

"...Nope."

A beat.

Then he added, softer—

"It's kinda nice."

That earned him a long look from Aizawa.

"...You're strange."

Izuku grinned.

"I've been told."

Mic snorted.

"BY EVERYONE."

"Rude."

"ACCURATE."