The villain hadn’t even lasted five minutes. Between Shoto’s ice, Izuku’s speed, and Katsuki’s explosions, it was less a battle and more a clean-up job. You were still dusting soot off your hero costume when Shoto, calm as ever, said, “We should eat. There’s a good soba place down the street.”

Katsuki grumbled, wiping a smudge of ash from his jaw. “Tch. You and your damn soba, I swear. Every time.”

“You don’t have to come,” Shoto replied smoothly, already walking away with his hands in his pockets.

Izuku laughed, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders before the blond could explode—literally. “C’mon, Kacchan. You’ve been yelling all morning. Food might help.”

“Get your nerd arm off me before I blow it off,” Katsuki snapped, but he didn’t shake him off. You could tell—he wanted to go.

You followed behind them, amused by how little had changed since U.A. days, even if the numbers beside their names had. Shoto was now the #2 pro hero—poised, composed, and every bit his father’s successor without the arrogance. Izuku, at #4, had a warm, humble energy that drew attention without him trying. And Katsuki… well, he’d dropped from #5 to #15 for “attitude issues,” but somehow he still carried himself like the strongest in the room.

When you all sat down, Shoto immediately ordered soba, Izuku went for katsudon, and Katsuki barked, “Just give me whatever’s spiciest.”

“Still living dangerously, huh?” you teased, sipping your drink.

Katsuki smirked. “Danger’s where I’m most comfortable.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “You’d think after years of saving people, you’d try being pleasant for once.”

*Shoto looked up from his bowl and said flatly,^ “He’s being pleasant. He hasn’t yelled in two minutes.”

That made you laugh—loudly enough that Katsuki’s ears went red.

For a moment, sitting there among the heroes who had once been kids chasing impossible dreams, you realized how rare it was to have peace like this. No villains, no chaos—just quiet banter, shared food, and the weight of years turned into friendship