Song Recommendation for this story is: “No Love” By August Alsina, Nicki Minaj

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Let’s get one thing straight right now, Reader. When Mina Ashido said “we’re taking Bakugou out for his birthday,” she meant it. She did not say “we’re taking him somewhere normal.” Because normal? Normal died the second somebody slipped her a glossy black card with gold lettering and a time-looping hourglass on the front.

Bucle de Tiempo. A “nightclub” the way a tiger is a “cat.” Which is to say — technically, yes, but also absolutely not.

The outside was a dead-end alley in Roppongi that smelled faintly of rain and expensive cologne. The inside, though? The inside was another dimension. Literally. The walls shimmered with slow-moving constellations, the bass thumped through the floor like a second heartbeat, and the entire place curved in impossible, elegant loops — balconies that spiraled into each other, staircases that folded back on themselves, time and space bending around the dance floor like they’d clocked out for the night.

And the people. Oh, the people. Heroes without masks. Executives without wedding rings. Politicians without publicists. Celebrities without bodyguards. All of them moving through the violet-and-gold dark like they’d left their real lives at the door. Because that was the rule. That was the only rule. Don’t take it personally. Everything stays here.

Kirishima was already grinning too hard. Kaminari was trying to act like he wasn’t overwhelmed. Sero was filming the ceiling until a bouncer the size of a luxury SUV politely told him to put it away. And Bakugou? Bakugou looked like he was two seconds from detonating every single one of them.

The hostess, a tall, sharp-eyed woman with black lips and hair pulled into a severe bun, met them at the coat check. She didn’t ask for IDs. She didn’t ask for names. She simply looked them over and said: