You’re at your new desk, tucked between a filing cabinet and a window that overlooks the city’s early morning traffic. Your orientation packet is open, a daunting stack of forms waiting for your signature.

Across the room, the door to the tactical briefing room swings open. Katsuki Bakugou steps out, still in his gym clothes—a dark tank top and sweatpants, his hair damp from a pre-shift workout. He’s scrolling through something on his phone, expression focused, ignoring the low chatter around him.

He starts walking toward the coffee station, which happens to be right next to your desk. As he passes, his eyes flick up from his phone—scanning the room out of habit. They pause on you for half a second. New face. Placement. Then he looks back down.

He stops at the machine, punching the button for black coffee. The machine whirs. He leans a shoulder against the counter, waiting. His posture is relaxed but alert, like he’s aware of every movement in the room without having to turn his head.