The grand ballroom of the Musutafu Tower was everything Bakugou expected—and hated. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the polished marble floors. Wealthy elites milled about in their designer gowns and tailored suits, sipping champagne and exchanging empty pleasantries. Everything about the scene was fake, polished to an irritating shine, and reeked of the kind of privilege Bakugou despised.
He clenched his fists, the urge to blast his way out of the suffocating space already clawing at his insides. His instinct was to be on the move, never still for too long, and being forced to stand around and pretend to care about these people grated on every nerve he had.
"Relax," Akiyama's voice cut through his thoughts, low and measured. She stood beside him, her posture as perfect as ever, eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made her look like she belonged. "You're making a scene."
Bakugou shot her a glare. "I'm not making shit."
She gave him a sidelong glance, her lips quirking up in that same infuriating half-smile that made his blood boil. "You're glaring at everyone like you're about to explode. Try not to blow our cover before we even get started."
"Tch." Bakugou resisted the urge to snap back, biting down on his retort. She wasn't wrong, and that only made it worse. He could feel the weight of curious gazes on them already, and he knew his temper wasn't doing them any favors. But dammit, he hated this kind of situation. Hated the waiting, the talking, the pretending.
Akiyama, on the other hand, seemed to slip into her role effortlessly. She greeted the passing elites with polite nods, her sharp eyes never lingering too long on anyone, but taking in everything around them with practiced ease. She's too good at this, Bakugou thought, annoyed that she made it look so easy.
Their mission was simple enough on paper: blend in, gather intel on the potential threats, and identify any suspicious individuals or activities. But it wasn't the mission that bothered Bakugou. It was the idea of having to be something he wasn't—calm, collected, and restrained. All things Akiyama seemed to be without even trying.
"Don't forget to smile," she said quietly, the teasing lilt in her voice setting his teeth on edge. "You'll look less like you're planning to murder someone."
"I'll smile when I feel like it," he growled under his breath, his fists flexing at his sides. "Now shut up and let me do my job."
Akiyama chuckled softly, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned her attention back to the room, her eyes narrowing slightly as she focused on something—or someone—across the ballroom. Bakugou followed her gaze, his own instincts kicking in.
There, near the far side of the room, was a man in a sharp, expensive suit, his posture just a little too stiff, his gaze flickering over the crowd with a predator's precision. He wasn't like the other attendees, who were too busy flashing fake smiles and pretending to care about their conversations. This guy looked like he was hunting for something—or someone.
"That him?" Bakugou muttered, his voice low.
"Possibly," Akiyama replied, her tone thoughtful. "He's been scanning the crowd for the past few minutes. No socializing, no interaction. Just observation."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't look like he's blending in too well."
"No," she agreed, her gaze sharpening. "Let's keep an eye on him."
"Or I could just blow him up now and we'll be done with it," Bakugou suggested, his voice edged with impatience.
Akiyama shot him a look. "We're here to gather intel, not start a scene. Patience."
Patience.
That word again. It was like every person in his life had made it their mission to test how much patience he actually had—and every time, it took everything in him not to explode. But he didn't need anyone telling him how to do his job. He'd figure out the best way to handle this—his way.
Bakugou shifted slightly, positioning himself so he had a clearer view of the target. He could feel the slow burn of adrenaline in his veins, the familiar hum of energy that always came before a fight. His instincts were screaming at him to act, to take this guy out before things got complicated. But Akiyama's earlier warning echoed in his mind, reminding him that this was a different kind of mission.
"So, what's the plan?" Bakugou muttered, his voice low as he continued watching their target.
Akiyama didn't respond immediately, her eyes still locked on the man in the suit. When she finally spoke, her tone was careful, deliberate. "We wait. Let's see who he interacts with. If he's connected to the villains we're tracking, he'll eventually give us something."
Bakugou's jaw clenched. Waiting wasn't exactly his strong suit. But he knew she was right. For now.
Minutes passed, and Bakugou's frustration only grew as they stood there, pretending to be just another pair of guests at the gala. His fingers itched to do something—anything—but he forced himself to stay still, knowing that making a move too early could screw everything up.
"Got eyes on anyone else?" he asked, hoping for some kind of action.
Akiyama's gaze flickered around the room briefly before settling back on their target. "Not yet. But something feels off."
Before Bakugou could ask what she meant, their target shifted, his gaze snapping to someone else across the ballroom. Bakugou's eyes followed the movement, and his irritation flared when he saw who had caught the man's attention.
A woman—elegant, with a sharpness in her movements that didn't quite fit with the rest of the crowd. She was making her way through the guests, a soft smile on her lips, but there was something off about her, something that put Bakugou's senses on high alert.
"Her," Akiyama said quietly. "She's the one."
Bakugou tensed, his body ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He didn't care about playing this undercover game anymore. They had their targets, and now it was time to move.
"Let's go," he muttered, already taking a step forward.
But Akiyama grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He shot her an incredulous look, ready to tell her off, but her expression was serious, her grip firm.
"Not yet," she said, her voice steady. "We need to know what they're after first. If we jump in now, we could lose any leads."
Bakugou glared at her, his frustration reaching its peak. "And if we wait too long, they'll get away."
"We'll act when the time is right," Akiyama insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Trust me on this."
Bakugou's instincts screamed at him to push her aside, to take matters into his own hands. But something in her voice, in the calm confidence she carried, made him pause. He hated it. Hated that she was right, hated that this mission required more finesse than he wanted to give.
He pulled his arm free from her grip, his jaw clenched tight. "Fine. But when this blows up, it's on you."
Akiyama didn't respond, her attention already back on the targets. Bakugou fumed silently, his eyes locked on the man and woman across the room. This waiting was going to drive him insane.
Minutes stretched on, the tension between them thickening as the targets continued to move through the ballroom, never making direct contact, but always aware of each other. It was like a carefully choreographed dance, and Bakugou was getting tired of watching it. He wanted action. Now.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the woman slipped through a side door, the man following closely behind her.
"There," Akiyama whispered, her body tensing beside him. "That's our moment."
Bakugou was already moving before she could finish. He pushed through the crowd with little regard for subtlety, his eyes fixed on the door where their targets had disappeared. Akiyama was right behind him, her movements far more graceful as she navigated the room.
The side door led to a dimly lit hallway, empty except for the soft echoes of footsteps up ahead. Bakugou's senses were on high alert, his heart pounding in his chest as he and Akiyama crept forward, staying close to the wall. This was , they were going to confront these bastards.
Just as they rounded a corner, Bakugou froze. Up ahead, the man and woman stood close together, their voices low but urgent. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but the tension between them was palpable.
Akiyama leaned in close to Bakugou, her voice barely a whisper. "We need to hear what they're talking about."
Bakugou shot her a look, his patience wearing thin. "We don't have time for that. Let's take them out now."
Akiyama shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she formulated a plan. "We can't risk blowing the operation," she whispered back. "We need to get closer without raising suspicion."
Bakugou clenched his fists, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He hated this—hated waiting, hated standing still when he could just take the targets down in a single move. But Akiyama had that look in her eyes, the one that told him she was already three steps ahead.
"What's your bright idea, then?" he growled, his voice barely audible.
Akiyama turned to him, her expression unreadable for a second before a sly smile spread across her lips. "Follow my lead, and don't freak out."
Before Bakugou could respond, Akiyama staggered forward, the elegance she'd maintained all evening suddenly replaced by a clumsy, unsteady walk. She stumbled into Bakugou's side, leaning heavily against him, her arm draped over his shoulders as if she could barely stand. Her entire demeanor shifted, transforming from the calm, composed hero he'd seen earlier to someone who looked like they had too much champagne at the gala.
"What the hell—" Bakugou started, but Akiyama's voice cut him off.
"Ohhh, Katsuki~," she slurred loudly, her voice carrying down the hallway. "I think I had… too much to drink…" She giggled, the sound annoyingly convincing, and leaned her weight fully against him.
Bakugou's eyes widened in disbelief. What the hell is she doing?He stiffened, his instincts screaming at him to shove her off, but before he could move, Akiyama's fingers dug into his shoulder—hard enough to be a warning. She gave him a quick, meaningful glance, her eyes silently telling him to play along.
Bakugou scowled, his body tense as he realized what she was trying to do. This was part of her plan.
"Relax," she whispered under her breath, her voice suddenly steady again. "We're just a pair of drunk partygoers. They'll never suspect us."
He grit his teeth, the whole situation making him feel like an idiot. He hated pretending, hated this whole undercover charade. But if it got them closer to their targets without raising alarms, he'd deal with it.
With a low growl of frustration, Bakugou wrapped an arm around Akiyama's waist, supporting her as she leaned against him. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his side, and the faint scent of something floral drifted off her, mixing with the sharpness of his own adrenaline. The closeness was uncomfortable—intimate in a way he wasn't used to—and it only added to his irritation.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice low and tense. "But if this doesn't work, I'm blowing them to hell."
Akiyama smirked, her head lolling onto his shoulder as they staggered forward. She leaned heavily into him, her voice loud and obnoxious as she continued her drunken act. "Katsuki, you're soooo strong~! I can't even walk straight!"
Bakugou grimaced. This was humiliating.
But as they stumbled closer to their targets, he could hear the man and woman's voices more clearly now. They hadn't noticed them yet, too wrapped up in their hushed conversation. Bakugou focused, trying to pick up on the details through the haze of Akiyama's ridiculous performance.
"They're moving in soon," the man said, his voice sharp and businesslike. "We need to be ready to extract the VIP as soon as the signal is given. No mistakes."
The woman nodded, her voice just as curt. "Understood. Make sure your team is in position. We can't afford any delays."
Bakugou's mind raced. An extraction?It sounded like they were planning to kidnap someone, likely one of the high-profile guests at the gala. This was bigger than they'd thought.
Just as they got close enough to hear more, Akiyama did something Bakugou hadn't anticipated—she let out a loud, exaggerated giggle and stumbled even harder into him, pushing him back against the wall with more force than necessary. Before he could react, she grabbed his collar, yanked him down, and pressed her lips against his.
For a split second, Bakugou's mind went completely blank. The suddenness of it, the feel of her lips on his, the way her body leaned against his—it all hit him at once, a sensory overload that made his usual sharp focus slip. What the hell is she doing now?
But then he heard it. The hushed voices of their targets stopped. They'd noticed them. And now, instead of two heroes sneaking through the hallway, they looked like nothing more than a drunk couple sneaking off for a private moment.
Bakugou's instincts kicked in, and he forced himself to stay in the role. His hands gripped Akiyama's waist, holding her against him, his lips moving instinctively against hers. He could feel the tension in her body, the way her focus remained on their surroundings even though she was pretending to be lost in the kiss. She wasn't making this any easier.
The woman's voice cut through the haze. "Ignore them," she said dismissively. "Just some drunk idiots. We need to move now."
Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest as he kept up the act, his mind racing as he tried to focus on the mission and not the fact that he was currently making out with Akiyama Yui in a dark hallway. The targets were getting away, but they'd heard enough to know what was coming.
After what felt like an eternity, Akiyama finally pulled back, her lips brushing his one last time before she straightened up. Her eyes met his, clear and focused again, and Bakugou could see the faintest hint of amusement in her gaze.
"See?" she whispered, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. "Told you it would work."
Bakugou's grip on her waist tightened for a brief moment, his anger flaring. He wanted to yell at her, to demand what the hell that was about—but he couldn't. Not now.
Instead, he released her and stepped back, his expression dark as he turned his attention to the hallway where their targets had disappeared.
"Next time, warn me before you pull shit like that," he growled under his breath, his voice thick with barely controlled irritation.
Akiyama's smirk returned, that same infuriating confidence in her eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"
Bakugou clenched his fists, resisting the urge to blow something up right there. But there wasn't time to argue. They had a mission to complete, and right now, those targets were getting away.
"Let's move," he barked, already starting down the hallway after them. Akiyama was right behind him, her movements quick and controlled, completely at odds with the drunken act she'd put on just moments ago.
As they approached the next corner, Bakugou's senses were on high alert. They couldn't afford to lose the targets now. They'd gotten what they needed, but there was no way in hell he was letting them slip away without a fight.
"Stay sharp," Akiyama whispered, her tone serious once more. "We're close."
Bakugou nodded, his adrenaline spiking as they rounded the corner, ready for whatever came next.
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Chapter preview:
It was the opening they needed.
Without breaking the kiss, Bakugou reached behind him, his fingers brushing against the hidden compartment in his jacket where he kept a small explosive device. He palmed it quickly, his movements hidden by the way Akiyama's body shielded him from view. She pressed harder against him, her lips moving against his in a way that sent a strange, electric heat coursing through him.
He shoved the feeling aside, focusing on the mission.