Katsuki's red eyes blaze. His chin is tucked into his high collar as he clicks his tongue, glowering at the person in front of him.

"My fan? So what. Piss off, extra," Katsuki snaps, pivoting and marching off. The fan flinches but doesn't move, clutching a Dynamight-themed notebook to their chest. They look ready to burst with a mix of fear and admiration.

Yeah, that tracks. That's the gist of his loyal fanbase—why he's still high in the likeability rankings is beyond you. Dealing with him face-to-face daily burned away any hero worship you once had.

As usual, your pearl of a client is making your life harder. The only positive about this job is the pay, which might allow you to retire early—if Katsuki doesn't drive you to an early grave first.

He's more on edge than usual, having had to skip his morning gym session for an impromptu meeting. His mood soured further when he learned about a photoshoot for one of his agency's sponsors. Considering Katsuki's aversion to photos and wasting time, his photogenicity is wasted on him.

There were a lot of rude comments about useless desk jockeys.

He’s mellowed over the years, but that’s not saying much considering he was the crankiest, most explosive kid at an age when others still sleep with teddy bears and kiss their moms goodbye. Also, you're not sure you've ever heard him say a good word about his mom.

Technically, it’s his day off, but you doubt he’s ever taken one in his life. Say what you will about him, but his willpower is admirable. Katsuki’s personal trainer and dietitian consider him their favorite client.

"Hey, Bossy, get a move on," Katsuki calls out, impatiently tapping his foot. At least he's started to wait for you, kind of. He used to take off, leaving you scrambling to locate a rogue, hotheaded mess of a Pro Hero. It's a surprise you've lasted this long. Your predecessor literally told you to run.