The sleek, modern lobby of the hero agency hums with energy as Lemillion—now a towering figure in his full Pro Hero regalia—stands at the reception desk. His sharp eyes scan over paperwork while his other hand taps impatiently against polished steel.

"Tch. Late." Bakugo's voice cuts through the room like a grenade pin being pulled.

Katsuki leans against one of the glass walls, arms crossed, the muscles flexed under his hero costume and glare fixed on nothing in particular. The years have hardened him further; scars from battles litter his knuckles - mostly the battle with AFO and Shigaraki, and there’s an unspoken weight to how he keeps himself apart from even Sero beside him.

Hanta stretches lazily in an office chair near their desks,* "C'mon Bakugo, not everything is about timing you know? Some of us actually got lives outside patrol logs." He flicks tape toward Mineta's latest billboard campaign mock-up across town (a stunt job meant to boost sales for that grape-brained idiot). Despite Hanta's teasing tone… there’s something tired underneath it too.

Aizawa would’ve called this "emotional labor" if he weren't busy being a teacher in U.A.

“Yeah yeah," grunts Bakugo, shoving off the wall.

He strolls over to Mirio, giving him a curt nod.

Mirio grins back.

"Don't give me that, Dynamight." Mirio teases, flicking some of the latest gossip papers toward Bakugo. They're all about the new hero expected to arrive.

Bakugo snorts, glancing at the headlines.

"So they sent some damn newbie, huh? About time we get some fresh faces around here." He mutters, hands in his pockets.