Making his way downtown, walking fast as if to avoid as many people as possible, Midoriya was beginning to sweat. Not from overexertion but rather from nervousness. He was running a bit late and, in turn, didn't have time to wrap his wounds sufficiently. Not to mention, he had officially run out of the burn cream plus it was on backorder for quite some time. It also cost quite a pretty penny, he thought bitterly.

The burn cream designated for quirk-caused, third-degree burns was almost 18000 yen and nearly half his rent. He truly couldn't afford it but he also couldn't allow himself to get sick from infections either. The godly cream was made to heal even the worst of burns in less than a week as it was made by a wealthy private company.

But he needed that mineral-infused cream.

God, he wished he had never tried it before. Because after managing to get his dirty hands on a whole bottle, life had been so much easier and so much more simple. But no, that was a fluke, plus he didn't want to annoy anyone to get the cream in his hands again, besides he knew what she would say to him if he asked her for more medical supplies. It didn't matter that her family ran a warehouse and sponsored most companies as they engineered medicinal products. No, she would lay into him for managing to get so banged up.

And he was unwilling to sit through that lecture again.

So instead, Midoriya had spent the morning writhing in pain as he disinfected, scrubbed, and wrapped his burns and scrapes. And since that had taken so long, he was late for work.

It hurt to run, gosh it hurt so bad, but Midoriya found himself unable to stop his legs. His mind was at constant odds with his body in that respect. By the time he turned the corner to the Heroz cafe, his quads were downright burning with lactic acid. The teenager stumbled towards the cafe windows and peered inside.

It was a small establishment, run by the mother of one of the workers who seemed to have a crapload of family recipes. If Midoriya remembered correctly, the cafe was established after the death of their grandmother who had snagged a bunch of family recipes that had been in the line for generations upon generations. And she wanted to share the goodies with the public. Whatever the case was, the food here was godly.

There were, ironically, already a couple of heroes inside the cafe, sipping on their favorite drinks with sour faces.

Aw man, Midoriya thought, a sense of foreboding overcoming his mind, they must have already found out I was gone.

Midoriya was in charge of making drinks as he was considered the resident barista. He had previously been told on multiple occasions that his ability to concoct any type of drink at will was astounding. Especially so when they comment about how tasty his coffees are specifically. He felt as if they were simply appeasing him and wanting to make him feel needed in the cafe, but no matter. Work was work and he felt the nagging sensation of being watched.

Taking in a deep breath, Midoriya pulled air into his lungs and stood up straight. Might as well face the music now.

He opened the door, not even attempting to be silent as the door had bells to alert customers and staff of an incoming consumer. Still, the clanging of metal musical instruments made him flinch lightly. At the moment, he was not incredibly thankful for the warning bells as they felt more like fanfare to his suffering.

Not even a second later, his blonde co-worker spoke up from his spot behind the counter. Midoriya felt as if the blonde had been intentionally hiding behind it until the right opportunity arose so he could pop up and scare the shit out of someone. It seemed like something Monoma would plan.

"You're late." He spoke up, voice flat yet with a small, amused lilt.

"And you're..." Midoriya spoke up, mind working overtime to think of a retort that would keep him from getting further in trouble but also relay his nervous annoyance in this conversation, "A jerk." Almost immediately as the words left his mouth, Midoriya cringed at how lame it sounded.

The blonde barked out a series of laughs, "You're merely jealous that I got Employee of the Month again. And that I take it very seriously." In the last sentence, Monoma had attempted to sound intense as well as force a serious facade over his previous haughty expression. But deep down, Midoriya knew the teen was just itching to both brag and prod at his co-worker.

"The only reason you got Employee of the Month is because you hung your own photo," Midoriya spoke coolly, motioning his hand to the framed face of Monoma behind the counter.
Somewhere to the right of them, a man snorted.

"You're just jealous." Monoma shot back, dropping his attempt at being intimidating and instead going on defense. His gray eyes were narrowed as Midoriya approached the back counter to enter the Employee room.

At this, Midoriya glanced at the Employee of the Month Banister that Monoma had placed behind the counter and in direct sight of anyone ordering. It was essentially a corkboard that had a large photograph pinned to it with a small banner hanging from the top of it as an over-glorified label. Further, and what the real kicker was, the photograph Monoma chose to insert was a professional-grade shoot. So Monoma was clad in a light beige suit that had embroidered deep pink, green, and blue flowers creeping up the right side of the jacket. His undershirt, though it was barely seen since the jacket was buttoned, was a pink that matched the flowers. On top of that, Monoma was sitting down on what seemed to be a boxy bench that blended in with the white background. Further, the camera angle was lower than the horizon by quite a few inches, providing a dynamic pose and giving the illusion of him being some sort of larger-than-life, significant figure. Paired with his relaxed yet angular facial features, the photograph was extremely flattering for the exuberant teenager. Still, though.

"Nope." Midoriya dismissed the accusation of being jealous with one word and finished making his way back to the employee room. From the other side of the room, he heard a round of laughter coming from one of the civilians as they had eavesdropped on the amusing conversation. Knowing Monoma would soon be at his hide for that jab, the shorter teen attempted to speed up as he passed by Monoma. He was almost in the clear when a hand gripped the back of his shirt. The fabric shifted and rubbed against his bandages slightly, causing the teen to wince but he was able to play it off as being caught red-handed.

Monoma dragged the teenager back in front of him, a smirk cascading over his lips as he thought of how to get back at Midoriya. But he was stopped when he actively noticed the appearance of Midoriya himself.

"What the--what the hell are you wearing--" Monoma started, laughter beginning to bubble up in his chest.

Confused at first, Midoriya looked down, hoping he hadn't mixed up his work shirt with his vigilante top. Because honestly, that would look so embarrassing and probably put quite a few heroes onto his trail. He couldn't afford that.

But his vision was assaulted by a regular shirt, not his vigilante top. Even more confused, he pulled the rim of his shirt away from his body and attempted to read the black printed words. It took a moment, and by the time he realized what he had put on, Minoma was laughing so hard that he ended up leaning over the counter and almost smacking his head. For a split second Midoriya thought about how he would laugh if Monoma managed to get a concussion from almost smacking his head on the counter. But even that funny visual was inhibited by his utter embarrassment at having left the house in one of his cheap, scavenged t-shirts.

A year or so ago, Midoriya was scavenging around the prefecture looking for extra clothes for the couple of yen he had garnered. And he had found a small thrift store with a bunch of labeled t-shirts for clearance. No one had previously found the satirical outfits humorous and so when the shop got a new haul, they went up for sale. He had paid hardly anything for the few shirts they had as the owner just wanted them gone.

But he must have grabbed the wrong white shirt this morning and instead of cladding himself in a regular white shirt with black pants, he was in a shirt that was labeled "Professional Attire" instead. His face flushed in pure embarrassment.

He immediately attempted to escape the situation, feeling as though everyone's eyes were on him. He nearly turned his head skywards and prayed for any and every spiritual being to crash down and kill him where he stood. Unfortunately, he was forsaken by the gods he didn't even believe in and was left to awkwardly speed walk to the back room in hopes he didn't lose all the street cred he tried to believe he had obtained. His fast footsteps were nearly completely covered by the cackling of Monoma who was still convulsing over the counter.

Immediately, the teenager went to his work locker and pulled out the Heroz mandatory vest and cap. He slipped them on, though his hair was not liking the hat one bit, and forced it to lay funky on his head. He was never so glad to have the vest zip up to cover his shirt before in his life.

Turning around, Midoriya nearly jumps out of his skin. He had forgotten his other coworker's hiding spot including laying on the top of the opposite lockers. Both sets of lockers ended approximately four feet from the ceiling, allowing for a very determined Shinso to shimmy up and lay down. His gallon large cat mug was right by his side, bendy straw in full use as he drank his heart's content of morning coffee.

Originally it was a Christmas present that Midoriya had gotten him to keep the sleep-deprived human alive--or at least hydrated--so he could survive his shifts. But he had completely ignored the mug's purpose and every day he would come in with it filled to the brim with brewed coffee. And then he would refill it at break time. And again before he left.

Izuku shook his head at the tired teen and chuckled.

Shinso was so unrestrained as himself that he didn't need to act humorous to make Izuku laugh even after being horribly embarrassed just moments ago. Shinso just needed to be himself, with his gallon cat mug, found at random places either passed out from coming off of a caffeine high or exhaustion.

Midoriya watched Shinso as he slurped away at the drink. How he can drink from that bendy straw and manage not to choke, I have no clue, he mused to himself. But almost immediately after, Midoriya felt his mind shift. He felt his smile get a bit tighter as he looked at his friend and co-worker.

And gosh, he wished he was that unbothered, that strong-willed and true to himself. Midoriya felt a sudden wave of bitterness wash over himself and was immediately disgusted at his feelings. Still, he couldn't help but compare himself to the friend in front of him. Shinso never felt obligated to fit into any form of mold to get people to like him--people either did or didn't. Shinso never cared either way.

And yet all Midoriya had was empathy molds of different personalities he had to switch between to feel included with people. He had to be funny and he had to be smart but not so much so that it overshadowed anyone. He had to be there for others but not necessarily present in their ever-developing lives. He had to be around but never quite in the loop. His lips twitched into a frown at the thought.

Midoriya felt the sinking feeling of loneliness grow in the pit of his stomach as the world felt too large and too fast. The air felt too thick and somehow became difficult to breathe. He felt his fingers twitch as the universe expanded around him, leaving him secluded in a multitude of muted colors.

"HEY! Is Brain-Damage in there?" Bellowed Monoma from the front counter, his voice loud yet not shrill.

Immediately Midoriya was snapped out of his head and flicked a smile on his face. "Yeah!" He yelled back, chuckles encasing his reply. And just as quick as the mask dropped, a new one was set in place, cascading around him and covering up his slip. Midoriya felt a pang of internal guilt eat at his nerves, feeling nauseous at the thought of comparing himself with his friends.

"God, Mido, get out here and do your job! Rush hour is coming close." Monoma shouted back again, jolting Midoriya.

Nevertheless, he stole one more glance at the completely relaxed Shinso who hadn't moved from his daydreaming spot on the lockers. Midoriya then patted himself down to get off any invisible dust particles before making his way out of the back room and to the counter where he would place the careful facade of a happy barista on his shoulders.

Unknown to Midoriya, the wandering gaze of Shinso followed his form as he left the back room.

And those purple eyes had seen more than Midoriya thought.

***

Tsukauchi was going insane with the amount of work on his desk. He felt as if the pressure was on for him to solve every single case that he came across. And if he didn't it felt like a personal attack on his abilities as a detective.

From a young age, his family had spoken so highly of his intellect and the phenomenal capabilities of his quirk, forcing his self-assurance to come from not disappointing them. Hence, he delved into the police force with the help of his higher-up father. Sometimes his father would let him help in interrogations and casework, causing the kid to become accustomed to using his quirk at an exceptional rate and inhibiting the usage of criminals finding half-truths between off-handed statements.

By the time he was twelve, Tsukauchi had already helped his father solve quite a few cold cases as well as a murder and theft. During his late teenage years, Tsukauchi was considered an unofficial member of the local police force and was often called in for his abilities as a human lie detector.

It wasn't a surprise to anyone when he was able to receive his official detective license at the earliest age possible and it was even less of a surprise when he was able to solve his first cold case all by himself the first week of official work. He was a prodigy, a young, aspiring crime-fighter who had the world at his hands' thanks to great genetics and his father.

All in all, he was surprised he made it to five years of being a full-time detective before becoming completely burnt out. And yet here he was, sitting in his office chair and looking down at his desk that was riddled with files from both cold and active cases. He stared at them with blank eyes and a desire to just live adjacent to his work without actively doing anything about it. But that was, sadly, not allowed within the confines of his job. He was obligated as a detective to at least try to find out a) what happened and b) who did it.

But gosh, did a nice, long vacation sound nice.

Tsukauchi glared at the papers before him, knowing for a fact his boss would let him go on his first vacation since starting the force. Tsukauchi felt annoyed knowing that his boss would actually be thrilled at the aspect of Tsukauchi getting a break from the overload of work--but the top dog wasn't the problem.

No, the problem was that even though Tsukauchi was burnt out and needed a break, he felt he had to at least finish one more case before taking time to himself. And that was both infuriating and comforting at the same time.

He fingered one of the case packets' edges between his thumb and index finger, flipping the pages and feeling how they one by one fell to the desk. The smallest file at hand was the information regarding a missing child in one of the neighboring prefects. The only reason it was in the hands of Tsukauchi was because of a possible sighting in the local area. So far there were three witnesses and two suspects. He needed to perform a lineup to attempt and narrow down who the kidnapper was. Yuuri Sugawaro was going to be found, Tsukauchi just had to wait until a coworker gathered one of the suspects--they had a warrant out for him to be brought into the agency.

The second, and largest pule was of a recent vigilante that had piled up quite a few complaints, praises, and solved cases. Currently, he was unnamed and unidentifiable via physical appearance. The only sure thing the detective knew was that they were smart but not smart enough to refrain from breaking and entering Endeavor's Agency. And that little stunt had immediately put the previously coined benign vigilante on the police watch list.

And Endeavor's shit list.

Tuskauchi didn't know what else had happened besides the vigilante stirring up a fight, but he knew Endeavor was fuming under tight lips. The fire hero had been taking up more night shifts lately too. Something Tsukauchi was nearly a hundred percent positive about was related to the untitled vigilante.

But alas, there was a more problematic vigilante on the rise too. Stain: The Hero Killer--which was ironic because he had only injured three heroes so far and all were nonfatal. Tsukauchi doubted that they wouldn't make a full recovery though. Then again, the man was said to be downright malicious and vague in his ideals--though perhaps he simply couldn't put them into words quite yet? Some criminals were like that.

Still, both vigilantes were flagged as high priorities, though one was seen taking down criminals the other mauled heroes. So it was pretty easy to see who was wanted off the street first, to say the least. Especially if Stain began fulfilling his self-proclaimed title of a hero killer. Because then he would be pushed to the top case along with Yuuri Sugawaro.

Tuskauchi was nearly ripping off his nails in stress. Ideally, he should take care of the Yuuri case first as it was a kidnapped seven-year-old child. The only thing that could impact his decision is if one of the vigilantes decided to partake in a civilian killing spree. So with a heavy sigh and what felt like even heavier lungs, Tuskauchi slipped the vigilante case packets off his desk and focused in on the Yuuri one.

But first, he might have to see how the search for suspect one is going. He found himself nearly glaring at his phone seconds later, knowing he would have to call in one of his coworkers that was technically on the same level as him but under the Commission. Generally, she seemed nice--but only if you were deaf and blind, therefore unable to see or hear her jackass comments.
Either way, Tsukauchi was not looking forward to speaking to her whatsoever. Honestly, he felt like kicking his Boss for feeling the need to confide in the Commission for police work.

This kidnapping wasn't linked, to their knowledge, with any Slave Trades or Trafficking Rings.
Plus, the suspects at hand had little to no previous records of kidnapping or any other offense.
Therefore, the Commission technically had no right to wiggle its way into the case. And yet his boss let them. Stealing himself, Tsukauchi allowed his fingers to reach forward and grasp his mobile device.

***

As soon as the lunch hour rush was over and most of the customers cleared out, Izuku found himself cleaning up the counters so they weren't as messy. It seemed no matter how gentle or clean they tried to be, rush hour was so frantic that there remained a bunch of small droplets littering the counter. Not to mention the crumbs of freshly baked and packaged pastries. So Midoiya, who was somehow conned into being a barista and main register, was whipping down the drink area and cleaning some of the mugs. He was just about to move onto the display case when a bell rang out and cut through the thick silence.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he realized who was ringing the bell.

Aizawa had the gall to remain completely stoic as his eyes intensely bored into the teenager's head.

Midoriya couldn't help but chuckle awkwardly at the attention, feeling mildly uncomfortable.

"One moment, sir." He spoke thinly. Efficiently, he folded the towel off to the side of the sink, knowing he would return to cleaning right after Aizawa took his order, and washed his hands. Before approaching the underground customer that was at Heroz cafe at what felt like every possible hour, Midoriya slapped on a smile hoping it didn't look watery.

"Hello, sir, what can I get for you?" He asked, fingers flitting across the computer as he input the password. Then, when the computer flickered onto the ordering screen, Midoriya looked up at the customer with a smile.

Aizawa's face held no emotions as he spoke up. "The usual," he said in his signature, raspy albeit exhausted voice.

Midoriya couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips. Especially since he could have sworn he saw the hero at one of the back tables filling out paperwork since he had entered the cafe to start his shift. Not to mention how the man had downright glared at Midoriya after finishing his drink and watching the teen come in late.

Safe to say that Midoriya was not in his good favors.

"Coming right up." He said, manually inserting a discount on the drink so it was nearly forty percent off--the highest allowed discount in the shop. "That'll be 443 yen." He spoke, his gaze returning to Aizawa.

The underground hero looked skeptical and narrowed his eyes. "The price decreased." Midoriya then noticed that the man before him was fidgeting with the exact change of the drink's usual price. He knew it was the exact change because it was an odd amount of yen. Courtesy of Monoma and Shinso who had decided to fuck with the customers by driving everyone financially insane. The problem was: Midoriya was put on the front lines and had to deal with the consequences while the two demons chuckled in the background at his misery.

Midoriya was not a confrontational person when he didn't need to be. And when he deemed the problems annoying or overall simply a nuisance, he found himself more willing to avoid accelerating aggression. As such, he found it easier to blame other people for the price of everything in this cafe.

So when the gruff, albeit inevitable voice spoke up, questioning the teen, Midoriya knew how to respond. "How did the price decrease so suddenly?"

Aizawa's eyes were completely narrowed in suspicion, amusement, and something akin to...scrutiny?

Instead of feeling pressured into saying something lame, Midoriya plastered on his best customer service smile and cleared his throat. "Ah well you see," he begins, leaning forward a bit and cupping a hand over his mouth as if to tell the hero a secret. "My coworkers like to bully me, so when they become too insufferable, I take their staff coupons and help kind customers like yourself." He winks, holding back his laughter, and stands back up.

The sheer monotonous bafflement on Aizawa's face nearly makes Midoriya burst out in hysterical giggles.

By the time Aizawa sighs and recounts 443 yen, a genuine, content smile takes up Midoriya's face as the chuckles reside. Just as his fingers take hold of the yen and are about to open the register to place them in, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Midoriya freezes, suddenly feeling a spike of unease and nervousness prowl in his stomach, causing it to churn. He feels like he is about to throw up when he feels someone so close to him.

He takes a small, brief second to himself to remember his surroundings and somehow manages not to freak out. Hot breath and a warm body are behind him, their proximity very close.

Midoriya deludes himself into internal bargaining for his safety. It's not like anyone can kill me before Aizawa gets his coffee.

One hand presses the button to insert the yen into the register, opening it for Midoriya. The smooth but masculine hand is familiar, especially so since it is clad in infamous skull rings. Midoriya finds himself relaxing microscopically and putting the yen up. He tries to ignore Shinso as the teen hooks his head over Midoriya's shoulder to assess the screen and whisper to the teen, uncaring that he is almost nestling in the green curls and bypassing the ear in general.

The bird's nest that makes up Midoriya's hair is two missing haircuts away from becoming a bush that covers his face completely.

"Monoma isn't going to like your little stunt, bitch." Shinso says, his breathy threat causing Midoriya to falter before pulling away and leaving the teen oddly cold and concerned for his well-being. It had been years since he had been accustomed to familial company, and even longer since he had a friend who comforted him. So he was still getting used to the whole situation.

Seconds pass before Midoriya catches onto what the teen says but by the time he turns around to stop Shinso, Midoriya sees him slip into the kitchen with a scathingly playful smile.

Midoriya can barely get a word in before a resounding screech sounds throughout the Heroz cafe. Burning eyes pop up from behind the window separating the kitchen from the front barista area, their intensity causing Midoriya to flinch slightly. He immediately attempts to move out of Monoma's blazing line of sight and towards the coffee machine in the corner.

Briefly, he flickers his eyes up to the sky in a silent plea of mercy to any being that will listen. And yet all is for naught when he hears a metal utensil slam down on what is assumed to be the counter or stovetop.

"YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING REGRET IT." Monoma screeches and Midoriya doesn't even have time to duck before a still warm oven-mitt smacks him upside the head. Unable to hide his flinch at the impact jolting his body and his precariously bandaged burns, Midoriya lets out a wince. And even though the impact was slightly painful, he can't help but feel grateful that Monoma hadn't thrown a pan like last time.

In the other room, Shinso's ruthless cackling can be heard as the bass to Monoma's heavy metal screeching.

Aizawa watches on as he awaits his coffee with a tired expression and his eyes are slow to take in the whole chaotic scene before him. He just wanted his coffee-the good coffee. He sighed and fought the urge to rub his hands down his face and walk out.