After completing a refreshing shower, Izuku dried off and donned his SWAT uniform, the fabric moulded to his fit physique—he had gained muscle during his years across the sea. He called his assistant, who promptly arrived with a duffle bag full of his belongings, filling the small apartment with a faint scent of coffee.
"Here you go, Detective Midoriya," she greeted, her tone professional yet friendly. Izuku smiled softly, a subtle hint of warmth breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor.
"Thank you, Yumi. You can head out; I'll be fine from here." He dismissed her with a gentle nod, which she returned with a quick flash of a smile before exiting.
Turning his focus to the paperwork piled on his desk, he continued filling out reports from a plethora of situations he dealt with during the week. The peaceful atmosphere, however, was abruptly disrupted by the crackling of his earpiece. It was his second day back and he was already more popular than he'd thought he'd be.
"Code 217! Hostage situation reported at The Silver Spoon. Requesting immediate backup, over!"
Izuku stood up, adrenaline pulsing through him like fire. The calm veneer shattered in an instant, replaced by focused determination. "Deploying now!" he responded, grabbing his gear and bolting out of the apartment.
The Silver Spoon was a popular restaurant, known for its exquisite cuisine and vibrant atmosphere. Tonight, however, it lay under a cloud of tension. Inside, three masked individuals held six terrified customers at gunpoint, shouting demands filled with desperation and rage.
"Stay down! Nobody moves, or they get it!" barked one of the criminals, waving his gun back and forth across the room.
Izuku arrived at the scene, his heart racing, instincts kicking in. He quickly surveyed the layout of the restaurant, assessing positions and evaluating potential threats. The flickering lights cast ominous shadows as he reached for his earpiece.
"Midoriya reporting in. I'm on the scene with SWAT. What's the current status?" he inquired, his voice steady and level-headed.
"Three armed suspects inside, hostages are mostly unharmed, but fear levels are rising. We need to get you in a position to negotiate without putting anyone at risk. We're covering the exits," the commanding officer instructed.
Izuku nodded, even though they couldn't see him. "On it. I'm moving to the left side of the entrance." He slipped into the shadows to position himself, mentally preparing for the confrontation.
As he stepped into view, one of the suspects caught sight of him, panic etched across his features. "What the—?!" The man barely had time to react before Izuku spoke up, his voice calm and direct.
"Let the hostages go. You won't want to do this. There's still time." He raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat, feeling the weight of the gun strapped to his hip.
"Shut up, hero! Do you think you can just swagger in here and save the day? You've got no idea what we're capable of!" another assailant screamed, pointing the weapon dangerously at one of the frightened patrons.
At that moment, time seemed to slow. Izuku assessed the situation. The tension in the air was thick, possibly hanging on a knife's edge. With a surge of adrenaline, he decided to act. In one seamless motion, he drew his weapon, steadied it, and aimed.
The loud crack of gunfire shattered the standoff as his shot rang true, the weapon flying from the hands of the third assailant. Chaos erupted as Izuku dove in, adrenaline guiding his movements while the SWAT team flooded in behind him.
"Get the hostages out!" he barked over the noise, focusing on neutralizing the second criminal. A scuffle ensued, and in a moment of vulnerability, he felt the bite of a bullet shot his shoulder as he turned and flipped into a backflip behind a counter. Pain flared, but it was nothing compared to the trials he had faced before; he gritted his teeth and pushed through it.
With swift, practiced movements, he quickly looked down and assessed his wound before jumping over the counter. He utilized a combination of martial arts and strategic positioning, managing to pin one of the suspects to the ground while the SWAT team swiftly apprehended the others. The hostages were secured, ushered out of harm's way amidst a flurry of activity.
Once the scene was secured and medical personnel tended to the hostages, Izuku allowed himself a moment to breathe, his pain throbbing.. The adrenaline began to fade, revealing the dull ache radiating from his shoulder. He glanced down, noting the blood seeping through his uniform.
Had he already needed another uniform?
"Hero down?" teased one of the other officers, a smirk on his face as Izuku strolled out of the building.
Izuku smirked and sent a wink before shrugging his shoulders and going over to his police car. "Nah, just a scratch." He rummaged through the department glove before finding the empty report papers.
As the heavy door of the Hero Department swung open, Izuku Midoriya stepped inside, a reliable air of confidence enveloping him. His black hair framed his face, and the tattoos that peaked out underneath his sleeves made ran a different demeanour off of him. What had once rang out with light banter and dotting pencils and pens, now eached with a heavy silence with his presence.
Beside him was Yumi. They walked over to an empty table across from the others, drawing curious glances. Yumi's heart raced not just from being in an unfamiliar environment but from being so close to Izuku, the man who had once been her closest friend and had morphed into someone new—someone captivating.
"Hey Yumi, can you please fetch me—" Before he could finish, her hands lifted palm-up, and a golden glow flashed and disappeared, his normal clothes appearing before him. He smiled, dropping his duffel bag on the table with a thud, and turned to her fully. "You always know what a man wants."
Yumi's cheeks flushed pink as she placed the clothes on the table beside the bag. "Sir, I would appreciate it if you kept focused more on attending to your wound than flirting." She straightened her back, brushing her green hair behind her shoulders, the authority in her voice a stark contrast to her flustered demeanor.
They locked eyes for a fleeting moment, his eyebrows raised in a playful question. "Can't I have a little fun with my favorite girl?" Izuku teased, running a hand through his matted black hair. His grin was mischievous, like a feline that had just caught sight of its prey.
Yumi rolled her eyes good-naturedly but knew how to steer their banter back. "You really need to take care of that shoulder, Izuku. Though I guess it might be a challenge for you now, huh?" She glanced pointedly at the blood-soaked bandage peeking out from beneath his shirt.
Izuku's playful demeanor faded for a moment as he focused on the pain that pulsed beneath the surface of his skin. "Alright. Let's get this taken care of."
As he moved to remove his shirt, he caught glimpses of his former classmates whispering amongst themselves. They were surprised, some too shocked to approach him. He ignored their stares, his focus on Yumi, who found a medical kit in the duffle bag and diligently prepared to dress his wound.
"An extraction kit?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't anyone teach you that pulling a bullet out on your own is not going to end well for your ego?"
Izuku shrugged, a faint humorous glint in his eye. "It was a quick decision. Besides, I had limited access and a few minutes. It was either that or wait and bleed out." He put his hand over the wound, beginning to work at the bandage.
"Are you always this reckless? Do you want to fight the world on your own?" Her eyes narrowed with mild exasperation, mirroring the scars she'd seen left behind by his calls to adventure.
"Getting shot is a part of the job, Yumi. Just like thinking a little further ahead would keep you on your toes." He grimaced, dismissing her concern with a casual wave. She rolled her eyes as he neatly cut the bandage from his shoulder, revealing the wound.
With a calm professionalism that contrasted his previous self, he methodically extracted the bullet. Yumi's breath hitched slightly but she held her ground, not wanting to show her unease. She quickly cleaned the wound and wrapped a fresh bandage around it, hands steady from years of training.
Izuku grunted as he finished wrapping his shoulder, wiping sweat from his brow. In that moment, he traded glances with her, an odd understanding shared between them. There were unsaid words of gratitude and companionship.
Once he was re-dressed, they packed up the medical kit. Just as they gathered themselves to leave, Bakugo aruptly got up from his chair and marched over to them, stepping in front of Izuku's way - blocking the door. "You got a goddamn death wish, Deku?" he snapped, his usual tough edge surfacing. "Ignoring us like you're some hotshot after your little self-extraction operation? You think you're better than us?"
Before Izuku could dismiss his former friend, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fetching it out, he regonized his SWAT team's number and picked up, waving his hand of dismissale to the blonde and turned away.
"Midoriya here."
"Deku! We're hitting up the bar tonight to celebrate you being back in Japan! You in?" came the enthusiastic voice of one of his former SWAT teammates, Roku.
Izuku weighed his options quickly, shooting a knowing glance at Yumi and then back at Bakugo, whose scowl deepened. "Sure, we can have a drink after I handle... some business," he replied, which was more cryptic than any of them would have preferred. He glanced over at Yumi and caught her expression of confusion.
As he hung up the phone, he noticed her facial change—part worry, part intrigue. She tried to protest, "Izuku, you just got back! Should we really be going out and drinking already? You need to rest, especially after..."
"Especially after what?" Izuku interjected smoothly, a sly smirk creeping across his lips as he wrapped his arm around Yumi's shoulders, pulling her close. "Don't sweat it, darling. It's my first night back, and I've got the night off from both divisions. No one wants one of their strongest heroes working while he's recovering from a gunshot wound, right?" He leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a near whisper, "Besides, wouldn't you rather be my date tonight?"
Beneath her feigned shock, Yumi's cheeks flushed, alternating between disbelief and an excited apprehension. The others were equally bewildered by Izuku's demeanor, the transformation stunning and surreal. This was a new Izuku, assured and undeniably charming, without a hint of the introverted nervousness they once knew.
"Wait, are you seriously suggesting going out for drinks?" Bakugo's tone shifted, shifting from anger to incredulity. "You think that's a smart move after getting shot?"
Yumi shot Izuku an appraising glance, her dark brows furrowed. "You're being reckless, Izuku."
Izuku shrugged, a flicker of amusement dancing across his lips. "You say that like it's new information. Besides," he added, lowering his voice, "we both know this job isn't for the faint-hearted." The way he said it held no warmth, just a calculating edge, leaving no room for argument.
Izuku met Bakugo's gaze, half-expecting Bakugo's familiar anger. "I don't think I'm better than you, I just don't have time to be caught up in your melodrama, Bakugo."
Yumi stepped back, giving them some space, her eyes wide, not wanting to interfere but not willing to abandon Izuku either. Bakugo's anger was a palpable force, one that often pushed Izuku into a corner in the past. But things were different now.
Recognition swept over his former classmates like a wave, their expressions a volatile mix of shock, admiration, and lingering disbelief. But they kept their distance, uncertain how to approach the man he had become.
The tension surged as Bakugo stepped closer, his face a storm of anger. "If you really think you can just stroll in here and act like everything's fine while forgetting how you treated us—especially me—you must be delusional. It's as if you've forgotten how things used to be."
"Things have changed," Izuku replied, his voice dripping with authority. "You're not my friend. You're just a hostile acquaintance now, and I'm fine with leaving it like that."
Bakugo's face darkened, fury radiating off him like heat from a flame. "You think you can just walk away from this? From me? You think I won't take your ass down where you stand if you keep acting like a goddamn idiot? Because I will, Deku. I'll kill you before you realize what hit you."
The break room fell silent, eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold. Uraraka, standing a few feet away, gasped softly, her hand shooting up in protest. "Dynamite, you can't just—"
But Izuku cut her off, stepping into Bakugo's personal space with an unsettling calm. "If you're making a threat to a SWAT member, I suggest you rethink that," he said, his voice low and authoritative. "Threatening me could cost you more than just a pride trip—it could put your future on the line."
Bakugo hesitated, the fire in his eyes dimming just a fraction as he searched Izuku's face for any sign of weakness. The reality registered for a split second; he was facing a member of an elite unit, and threatening someone with that kind of power wasn't just unwise—it was reckless.
"I'll be damned if I let you act all high and mighty, not after everything that happened," Bakugo finally muttered, his bravado waning as Izuku's stare pinned him down.
Without breaking their impasse, Izuku turned slightly, addressing the rest of the group who had watched the exchange unfold. Kirishima, ever the peacekeeper, took a step forward. "Izuku, we're not just standing by. We... we want to keep in touch. Maybe we can make plans to hang out like old times?"
Izuku regarded Kirishima for a moment, a flash of something softer fading away quickly. He pulled out a card, emblazoned with his name and number, and slapped it against the table in front of Kirishima with a confident, almost playful grin. "If you want to keep in touch, use this," he shrugged. "I'm not turning my back on friends who actually want to be friends. Just remember—be careful what you wish for."
His gaze turned back to Bakugo, the coldness returning as he continued, "And if you wish to end up in jail because of your pride, that's not my choice to make, Bakugo. Just remember that."
Bakugo's anger simmered, and a new uncertainty flickered in his eyes, visibly taken aback by the stark reality Izuku was presenting. But pride still swirled within him, clashing desperately against the growing sense of vulnerability that fought against his instinct to lash out. "Whatever," Bakugo snarled, turning on his heel, but his voice wavered momentarily. "Just... don't think I'm just gonna stand back and let it go."
As they moved towards the door, Bakugo's voice erupted once more, "If you don't want to walk around acting high and mighty, keep your head down, Deku." He spat the last word as if it were poison on his tongue.
Izuku paused at the exit, turning slightly over his shoulder to appreciate the white-hot anger radiating from Bakugo. "Do you really think this is about pride? I don't fight petty battles anymore." He grinned, a smile laced with an edge. "But I'll be sure to remember that you tried to threaten a member of the elite SWAT. I might just have to add it to my report."
Bakugo tensed, rage still surging under his skin. "You think you can just throw around your badge and assume it'll keep you safe? Get the hell out of my way, Deku!"
"Stop making hogwash threats, and I might just do that." Izuku met him head-on, a mixture of authority and unyielding focus driving his words. "You think you can hurt me? Do you want to try? Because I assure you, I'm not the same coward you used to bully."
The room was weighty with disbelief. Izuku didn't back down; he stood tall and unyielding. He'd fought to regain everything he had lost. "Besides," he continued, taking a breath, "that little stunt could land you in jail, and I'll be the one writing the report."
Just then, a crackling from his walkie-talkie broke the charged silence, and Izuku smirked at the impeccable timing. Locking eyes, he picked up the talkie and pressed the side. "This is Midoriya, reporting for 10/42."
The room fell into a silence.
Izuku felt a surge of satisfaction as the walkie-talkie crackled back with a clear acknowledgment of his status. Bakugo's face was a mask of disbelief, the simmering ire in his eyes revealing just how chaotic the misunderstanding had sent his mind spiraling. A few of Bakugo's colleagues shared hesitant glances, their eyebrows raised, clearly uncertain about what they had just overheard.
"Did... did you just report him?" one of the newer officers stammered, his voice laced with apprehension, glancing between Bakugo and Izuku as if bracing for an explosion.
Izuku rose an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his green eyes. "Gets you to think about threatening an officer, doesn't it?" he quipped, pulling at his charcoal gloves while letting out a controlled sigh. "But no. I was just letting them know I was done for the day."
The tension in the room was palpable, and he could almost smell the confusion mixed with the lingering echoless charge of confrontation. A heartbeat later, the static from the walkie-talkie shifted into confirmation—"Understood. Have a good night, Deku."
Izuku felt the weight of Bakugo's furious gaze, a smirk briefly tugging at the corner of his mouth as he relished the moment. The bromance, or whatever it had been in the past, was a distant memory now, replaced by both of their evolving realities. But he couldn't dwell on that. Now was a time for moving forward.
As he turned, he felt the familiar presence of Yumi beside him, that ever-comforting presence that carried an air of mischief. She leaned in, her voice a whisper against his ear, teasing and light. "We should invite a few of them to join us," she said, her excitement palpable.
Izuku nodded, already scanning the room for familiar faces he wouldn't mind sharing a drink with. "Sure, let me handle it." His demeanor shifted seamlessly from tension to charm as he stepped away from the confrontation. "Hey, everyone!" he called, drawing the attention of the others in the small break room. "We're heading out for drinks. Anyone interested in joining?"
There was a moment of hesitation, then a few eager hands shot up, but he caught Bakugo's scowl lurking in his peripheral vision, a reminder of the brewing storm left unresolved.
"Wait," Bakugo interjected, a challenging glint igniting in his eyes, "you mean I'm not even invited?"
Izuku's laughter rang out, genuine and unrestrained. He relished Bakugo's bewilderment; it had become a source of amusement to him. "Actually, you're not," he said with a playful smirk. "Frankly, I don't tend to hang around someone who doesn't respect me or threatens me."
Bakugo's face flushed redder than the paint on the walls, a mixture of disbelief and fury twisting his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but Izuku cut him off before he could summon his trademark explosions of anger.
"Maybe next time, Bakugo," Izuku added casually, finally making eye contact with Yumi, who was stifling a chuckle. "But for now, I think we'll take our fun somewhere it's not likely to end with someone being thrown through a wall."
Bakugo stood frozen for a moment, fury bubbling beneath his skin. The others around him were increasingly amused, exchanging frivolous glances, and it only amplified his indignation. Izuku turned away with Yumi, the last image of Bakugo's snarl imprinted in his mind.
As they stepped outside, the warm air brushed against Izuku's skin, and he felt the comfort of camaraderie surround him. He hadn't realized how much he missed feeling so "normal" amidst chaos. Yumi was at his side, her vibrant aura lifting his mood further.
Izuku couldn't suppress the smile that broke across his face. He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag, feeling renewed energy coursing through him. Yumi walked closely by his side, radiating excitement, and within moments, they were met by Kirishima, Todoroki, and Uraraka, who had decided to accept his invitation.
"Yo, Izuku!" Kirishima grinned, his energy infectious. "You ready to hit the town?"
"More than ready!" Izuku replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "And I've got the perfect ride."
As they descended the steps of the precinct, Izuku turned toward his police cruiser parked outside, a sleek black vehicle crowned with the emblem that signified SWAT. He could feel the waves of surprise ripple through his friends.
"Wait, that's your car?" Uraraka's eyes widened. "You've seriously got a police car?"
"Of course! Gotta make a statement, right?" Izuku shrugged, a confident grin pulling at his lips. His hand casually adjusted a tattoo sleeve peeking out from under his shirt. Shivers of thrill ran through him as he unlocked the vehicle with a click.
"This is awesome!" Kirishima climbed into the backseat, unable to contain his excitement.
As Todoroki and Uraraka slid in, Yumi hopped into the front passenger seat beside Izuku. She shot him a playful smirk, her amusement evident. "This definitely beats a regular sedan. Let's show these guys a good night."
"Buckle up!" Izuku called back, adjusting the rearview mirror as he revved the engine. With that, he peeled away from the curb, the cruiser's growl filling the air.
The ride was filled with laughter and camaraderie, punctuated by Kirishima's frequent exuberance and Uraraka's playful teasing. Seeing the city pass by in a blur felt invigorating, a world away from the shadows of his past. He skillfully maneuvered through traffic, occasionally glancing toward Yumi, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
When they finally arrived at the bar, Izuku parked with practiced ease, the others clamoring out eagerly. The neon lights spilled onto the sidewalk, a threshold into a world where the strains of laughter and music thrummed in the air.
As they entered, the bar came alive. A bustling atmosphere packed with people vibing to the rhythmic beat of life was all around them. Just as they stepped over the threshold, a boisterous shout rang out from across the room.
"DEKU!" His SWAT team erupted in unison, racing towards him, their faces lighting up with excitement.
Izuku turned, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding through him. He was suddenly engulfed as a couple of his teammates threw an arm around his neck, dragging him into a group embrace, laughter spilling out in unpredictable bursts.
"Look who's back!" one of the officers grinned, holding up his drink in salute. "Thought we lost you to America for good!"
"I'd never leave you guys behind, you know that!" Izuku chuckled, feeling the camaraderie of a family beyond just colleagues. He relished the feeling; it had been a long time since he felt this welcomed and appreciated.
Izuku leaned against the booth, allowing the raucous laughter of his friends to wash over him, a welcome contrast to the tension that had come earlier that day. He took a sip of his drink, glancing over at Yumi, who was deeply engrossed in their animated conversation, her laughter lighting up the room around them. It felt good to be back, to taste freedom and camaraderie again. But the earlier encounter with Bakugo loomed in his mind, dulling the brightness of his surroundings for just a moment.
"Hey," Kirishima called out, still hyped from his arm-wrestling victory over Todoroki. "What was up with you and Bakugo earlier? It was like a scene out of a movie!" He gestured animatedly, earning a few laughs from the others at the table.
Izuku leaned forward, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I swear, I expected him to explode again. He really couldn't handle the fact that I had the nerve to come back and be a part of the team again. It's like he forgot who he was dealing with."
"Oh yeah?" Uraraka teased, "He did threaten to kill you right before you walked up to him! That was scary!"
"True," Izuku replied nonchalantly, but the memory still thrilled him as he recalled closing the distance, being nose-to-nose with Bakugo. The growl in his friend's voice had been serious, but so was his own. "I just told him if he wanted to throw hands, he'd need to think about who was going to get arrested for it. By the way, I wasn't joking when I said I'd handcuff him right there."
"Yeah, and then shot—literally!" Kirishima punctuated, laughing loudly. "You were out there on a SWAT call and you got shot? In our first hangout back together? What kind of drama is this?"
"Just another Tuesday, right?" Izuku mused with an easy smile, though inside he felt the familiar tightening of his instincts. Thanks to Bakugo's short fuse, the tension was simmering just beneath the surface, but it was all external now. He'd trained hard to become calm under pressure—he couldn't let the chaos of his past spill into his present.
Yumi chimed in, laughter bubbling just under her words, "I think he missed you so much he just forgot how to communicate." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Izuku couldn't help but grin back, appreciating her ability to lightened the mood.
"Yeah, about as much as a bomb misses its target," Izuku replied with a chuckle, his gaze wandering to the door, half-expecting Bakugo to burst through at any moment, making a scene. But the only thing that entered was a server bringing their food, steam rising and appetites roaring.
As everyone dove into their meals, Izuku found himself filtering through the banter, occasionally catching Yumi's eye. Their playful exchanges spiraled into a comfortable rhythm, but finally, he caught up with his own thoughts. They were blurred by the drinks and laughter, and when the night wore on, the jokes turned into plans for their next missions together—beyond the teamwork and tactical planning, his partnership with Yumi was something he'd never taken for granted.
Hours later, the sun peeked through the sheer curtains of Yumi's apartment, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. Izuku's eyes fluttered open slowly; his groggy mind wrestled with the remnants of a blurred memory. The previous night returned in flashes—a jumbled series of warmth, laughter, and the unmistakable connection to Yumi that felt deeply familiar yet fragile.
He shifted slightly, expecting to feel the chill of the floor against his feet, but instead, he found himself under a cozy blanket sprawled on her couch. It took him a few seconds to orient himself, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air. The flashes of Yumi shouting at him to calm down mixed with slices of her laughter left him feeling oddly at peace.
As he sat up, a small groan escaped his lips. "Am I gonna regret whatever I did last night?" he muttered, rubbing a hand through his newly dark locks.
"Surprisingly, no," Yumi's voice chimed from the kitchen, baking softly amidst the sound of sizzling. "You were the responsible one. Letting Kirishima and Uraraka make fools of themselves while you kept your cool."
Izuku blinked, confusion etched on his face. "Really? What did I say?"
"Nothing abusive or reckless. You kept the peace after a while—you spent more time being charming than wild, which is... new." She turned around, her teasing smile softening when her eyes met his. "In fact, you might've impressed some of the guys."
He returned her smile with a chuckle, relieved. "Well, I guess that's a win? Maybe I do owe Bakugo a thank you for not killing me after all."
"Don't push your luck," she warned playfully, settling down next to him. The warmth of her presence brought an unexpected comfort. "But really, I'm glad you're back."
"Me too," he replied, just above a whisper, the words carrying a weight he hadn't realized he'd been longing to express. The room felt smaller, and without thinking, he leaned closer, caught between the memories of why he left and the promise of what was to come.
The atmosphere in the hero department was bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet resolve Izuku felt inside. He navigated through the crowd, greeting fellow heroes and officers alike with ease, his calm demeanor turning heads. Whispers followed in his wake; while he had changed in more ways than one, his reputation as "that kid who was bullied" was beginning to fade, replaced by the presence of an undeniable force.
"Hey, Izuku!" shouted Kirishima, who dashed toward him like a burst of energy. "You ready to handle some villains today?" His enthusiastic voice broke through the muffled exchanges of others, catching Izuku's attention.
"Always, but don't forget to watch out for those exploding surprises," Izuku quipped, reminiscent of their friendly banter from UA. They exchanged knuckle bumps, an unspoken acknowledgment of their journeys since their days as fresh heroes.
"Just waiting to catch one on camera—oh, wait, I should have brought my phone!" Kirishima laughed, shaking his head in faux despair.
"Maybe next time, Kiri. Right now, let's focus." Izuku's voice dropped a notch, guiding the conversation into the serious territory as they stepped into the briefing room. The stark whiteboard was filled with maps and notes, a reflection of the chaos outside their walls.
As they settled in, Izuku found himself flanked by Yumi and Kirishima, who were both intently listening to the briefing officer.
Izuku leaned forward slightly, his body poised with an ease that came from years of intensive training. His presence was commanding, a radiating confidence shaped by his time as a SWAT team member in America. He wore a simple tactical uniform that hugged his well-built physique, accentuating his numerous tattoos; swirling black patterns coiling around his arms like a mythological serpent, hinting at his transformation from the timid boy he once was.
As the briefing officer went over the details, Izuku's eyes narrowed and darted across the map sketched on the whiteboard, taking in every detail with surgical precision. Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated, embodying a sense of purpose that was both intimidating and inspiring.
Kirishima leaned in closer, watching as Izuku's fingers danced over the contours of the map. "I can't believe how much you've changed, man... You used to be so..." he trailed off, searching for the right word. "Neurotic."
Izuku smirked, a confident glint in his eye. "Life has a way of forcing growth on you. Besides, I prefer knowing I can handle myself now."
Then, with a swift motion, he rose from his seat, heading toward the marker board to add his insights. As he moved, his gait exhibited a subliminal grace; it was the confidence of someone who knew their body intimately, having spent hours practicing martial arts. He had trained in multiple disciplines—karate, jiu-jitsu, and boxing—merging them into a fluid fighting style that was a spectacle to behold.
Fingers deftly grasping a marker, Izuku sketched out potential paths for a tactical approach, applying what he had learned in the field. "If we flank to the north," he indicated, his tone steady, "we can create a diversion, allowing the SWAT units here and here to initiate a coordinated strike while keeping the civilians' safety in mind. By utilizing mixed martial arts techniques in close quarters, I can subdue any villains without escalating the situation."
The briefing officer nodded, impressed by Izuku's insights. "That's a solid plan. You seem to have adapted your skills nicely."
Izuku shrugged, a casual but confident smile playing on his lips. "Thanks. It's just about staying two steps ahead." His teammates looked at him in awe, but there was no hesitation in his voice—just a steady resolve that inspired confidence.
"Think about how you approached confrontation back in UA," he said, addressing Kirishima and fellow officers. "Remember the importance of angles and positioning. Take charge of your space; fight smart, not just hard."
With that, he demonstrated an elegant jab-and-block combo in the air, the seamless transition between strikes and defensive maneuvers like a flowing dance. He pivoted on the balls of his feet, emphasizing the significance of strong stances that gave him grounding.
Kirishima's eyes widened. "Whoa! I'm honestly jealous! I've always wanted to be able to move like that!"
"Focus and practice—if you're serious about mastering martial arts, just remember the basics. It all builds from there," Izuku encouraged, his tone gentle yet firm as if guiding his friends through the early days of their training back in UA.
The officer's voice reverberated through the room, laying out the day's operations with precise clarity. "We've received reports of a villain group operating in the heart of Shibuya. They've been causing disturbances and are suspected of planning something bigger. Your objective is to gather intel, minimize civilian casualties, and apprehend any targets you come across."
Izuku's sharp gaze focused on the maps as he moved away from the board and allowed the superior officer to engage, mentally strategizing routes and possible outcomes. The adrenaline began to pulse through him, igniting the familiar thrill that accompanied every mission. He glanced sideways at Kirishima, who wore a determined expression, and Yumi, who was jotting down notes with remarkable speed.
"I'll take point," Izuku declared, his voice calm yet authoritative. "We can split into two teams to cover more ground. Kirishima and Yumi, you'll monitor the southwest perimeter. I'll take the northeast with the backup squad." The room fell silent as his words were absorbed, a testament to how much had changed in the way he commanded respect.
Kirishima nodded vigorously. "Got it! We'll make sure to keep the area secure. Just stay alive out there, okay?"
"Always," Izuku replied, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, but the look in his eyes was serious. The weight of past experiences lay heavily on his shoulders, and he was determined not to overlook any potential danger.
Once the briefing was over, the teams moved out, and Izuku found himself slipping into the familiar rhythm of a leader. He strategized quickly. "Once we're on-site, I want constant communication. If you see anything unusual, report it immediately. Don't take unnecessary risks." His tone was level, commanding yet supportive—he had learned to balance both sides over the years.
His team nodded, and they made their way to the designated location. As they arrived, Akihiko, one of the newer officers, looked at him with wide eyes. "How do you stay so calm? Aren't you worried?"
Izuku paused, his brow furrowing for just a moment. "If I let the fear consume me, I won't be able to protect anyone. You learn to compartmentalize," he replied, sounding wiser than his years. "Trust your training."
Izuku took a deep breath, letting the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrap around him like a comforting embrace. The cafe hummed with soft chatter, and the sun pierced through the wide glass windows, casting golden rays across their table. Kirishima animatedly recounted a clumsy tango he had attempted during a recent team-building exercise, while Uraraka laughed, her cheeks flushed with amusement. Yumi, with her usual cleverness, countered with a story about her own experience trying to teach him some stealth techniques—though it eventually ended in comic disaster.
"Honestly, that's amazing! I can't believe you actually tried to tango, Kirishima!" Uraraka exclaimed between giggles.
"Hey, don't knock it until you try it! You never know, I might become the next dance sensation!" Kirishima shot back, puffing out his chest dramatically.
Just as he took a sip of his coffee, the familiar buzz of his walkie-talkie interrupted the lighthearted conversation. "All units, we have a reports of a barricaded subject at the intersection near Shin Tokyo Plaza. Suspect is armed and has taken civilians hostage. Code 136. All available teams, respond."
Izuku stared at the device for a moment, the coffee cup pausing midway to his lips. A flicker of determination flashed in his eyes as he set the cup down. "Guess I'm on duty," he muttered, but his voice was calm, well-practiced.
Yumi snapped her fingers, her quirk working effortlessly as she summoned Izuku's duffle bag from the corner of the cafe, the heavy material appearing in a puff of sparkles. "Get ready! You've got this!"
Izuku quickly stood up, unzipping the bag as he made his way to the bathroom. "I'll be really quick!" he called back, already focused on the task at hand.
As soon as he entered the restroom, it felt like a portal into another world. He stepped into the stall, and with remarkable speed—thanks to his training—he stripped off his casual clothes and slipped into his SWAT armor. Every piece of the gear, from the bulletproof vest to the fitted tactical pants, clicked into place seamlessly, the weight of it now a comfort rather than a hindrance. In under a minute, he was transformed and ready for action, just as he had promised himself.
He burst out of the restroom, his heart racing in sync with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and raced past them with speed, their hair flowing in the wind he left behind.
Kirishima looked on with wide eyes, a mix of admiration and awe etched across his face. "Wow... when he said he could handle it, man was he not lying," he commented, shaking his head.
Izuku didn't hear his friend's words, already outside and darting towards their response vehicles. As he approached the scene in the SWAT van, the world around him became sharper, his focus narrowing down to the task ahead. The streets were cordoned off, police barricades set up, while news reporters and curious onlookers crowded beyond a safe distance.
"Where's the suspect?" he barked to a nearby officer, pulling out his sniper as he expertly moved into position. He quickly absorbed the environment, recognizing potential threats and escape routes before he set his sights on the barricaded location.
"Second floor of that building!" the officer shouted back, pointing towards a nearby structure. "Civilians are still inside. The suspect has a firearm and hasn't made any demands."
Izuku's expression shifted; he focused his breathing, centering his mind as he settled the sniper onto the ledge. He locked onto the second floor window, considering angles and the distance, calculating the risks.
"Communications check. Everyone report status," Izuku commanded through his earpiece, a habit that had become second nature.
"Team A in position, ready for your signal," came the reply from his backup squad.
"Team B is monitoring the area, ready to provide cover if needed," another voice chimed in.
His finger hovered over the trigger, gaze steady. For a moment, everything else faded—the laughter from earlier, the warmth of coffee, the chaos below. It was just him, the sniper, and the responsibility to protect those who hadn't had a choice.
"Hold steady, everyone. We're going to make this right," Izuku said, voice calm yet firm, as he prepared to act, aware that the path before him was fraught with danger but also ripe with opportunity to protect those who needed it most.
His finger hovered over the trigger, gaze steady. For a moment, everything else faded—the laughter from earlier, the warmth of coffee, the chaos below. It was just him, the sniper, and the responsibility to protect those who hadn't had a choice.
"Hold steady, everyone. We're going to make this right," Izuku said, voice calm yet firm, as he prepared to act, aware that the path before him was fraught with danger but also ripe with opportunity to protect those who needed it most.
As he surveyed the commotion below, Izuku's mind worked like a well-oiled machine, every detail captured in his sharp focus. The chaos was almost comforting, a reminder of why he had trained so hard in America. Every muscle in his body was taut with anticipation as he weighed his options.
"Visual confirmation on the suspect?" he queried, his voice steady as he engaged in a quick mental assessment of the situation.
"Negative, Zero," replied a voice through the earpiece, a nickname that had followed him after his tenure in America due to his ability to keep a clear head in emergencies. "We have no eyes inside, but we're seeing movement on the second floor."
"Copy that," he said, inching his way closer to the edge to get a better view of the window. With the sun dipping low, shadows stretched across the building, giving him the perfect cover.
"Switch to thermal. Look for heat signatures," he commanded, tapping his goggles. He watched as the digital display adjusted, revealing hints of movement in the building. Two individuals were huddled in one corner — a hostage, and what seemed to be the suspect pacing just a few feet away, firearm clutched tightly in his hands.
"Visual confirmed — male, late twenties, sporadic movements," he noted, the calmness in his voice belying the tension racing through his veins. "The hostage is a woman, mid-twenties, she appears frightened but unharmed."
"Zero, we recommend a tactical breach—" a voice interrupted, but Izuku cut them off sharply.
"No. Not yet. We can't risk her life."
As he waited, he focused on his breathing—a technique he picked up during countless hours of meditation and mental training. His heart rate slowed as he honed in on the suspect's movements, waiting for the right moment.
"Team A, prepare for an extraction maneuver on my mark. Team B, cover the perimeter for any potential exits," he instructed, each word delivering authority that highlighted his role as the lead operative. "Communications are key. Maintain silence until I give the signal."
He wanted to give the suspect a chance to de-escalate. In his experience, sometimes the best way to handle a hostage situation was not only through force but by offering an out. His jaw clenched slightly as he watched the man pull at his hair, pacing like a caged animal.
"Suspect is agitated," one of his teammates relayed. "He keeps checking the window as if expecting someone."
"I know," Izuku muttered under his breath, keeping his focus. "Stay with me, people. We can handle this."
Just as he was about to switch tactics and try to establish a dialogue from his position, the unexpected happened.
"Look, he's raising the gun!" one officer shouted.
Without a moment to waste, Izuku adjusted his sniper rifle, his breath catching. "Team A—posture to breach; I'm taking the shot if you can't distract him!"
"Copy—" static crackled through the earpiece, but he didn't wait, watching as the man raised the gun and the woman cried out.
Each second stretched, but his training had prepared him for this. He tracked the target, aligning his sights, finger brushing gently against the trigger, ready to pull if the situation went south.
"Hold, hold..." he breathed, time slowing down as everything crystalized around him: the sound of a distant siren wailing, the panic in the woman's eyes, the desperation emanating from the suspect.
Then, in an unexpected twist, the suspect's cellphone rang, startling him. The momentary distraction gave Izuku the time he needed.
"Now!" he called, watching as Team A advanced on the door.
With swift precision, he squeezed the trigger.
The shot rang out, echoing in the streets as the bullet struck the wall behind the suspect's head, a warning shot meant to startle—not harm. The suspect jumped, gun dropping from his hand.
"Now, Team A! Move!"
With adrenaline coursing through him, he kept his eyes trained on the terrified hostage, watching her as rescuers stormed into the building, and relief washed over him when she was quickly ushered to safety.
As the suspect was apprehended, Izuku felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders again.
Deep breath. Mission accomplished.
He disengaged from the weapon, removing his goggles and looking out towards his squad as they secured the scene. "Great job, everyone," he affirmed, the tension from moments ago dissipating as adrenaline began to fade. "Get the medics up here; the hostage needs looking after."
As he descended from his position, he couldn't help but feel the familiar sense of purpose wash over him. This was where he belonged—fighting for others, protecting the innocent—and he was determined to make a difference, no matter the personal cost.
"Welcome back, Zero," one of his teammates smirked, knowing the nickname had a different weight now. And for the first time since his return, Izuku smiled, the cool confidence he had cultivated shining through.
