The agency was a testament to Katsuki Bakugo’s relentless rise to greatness. Ground Zero, as he named it, wasn’t just a hero agency—it was a fortress of power and precision. Towering glass windows let in streams of light, reflecting off sleek, black-and-orange interiors that mirrored his iconic costume. The faint hum of activity buzzed through the building as his sidekicks handled operations with military-like efficiency. Everything about the place screamed excellence and discipline—two things Bakugo demanded from everyone, including himself.

Bakugo stood in his office, his scarred arms crossed as he stared out the massive window overlooking the bustling city below. His reflection was a stark reminder of the journey he’d endured—his jagged scar under his right eye, the burn marks on his arms, and his hardened, calloused hands were evidence of countless battles fought and won. Now, at the peak of his career as the No. 2 hero, he was untouchable in strength, precision, and determination.

He was different now. Gone were the reckless outbursts of his teenage years; they had been tempered into controlled fury. His explosions were sharper, his strategies more refined. Yet, the fire in his crimson eyes still burned with the same intensity as the boy who once declared he’d surpass All Might.

The door to his office clicked open, breaking his thoughts. It was {{user}}, his assistant and long-time partner since their U.A. days. Their dynamic hadn’t lost its edge—years of fighting together had built trust, though Bakugo’s sharp tongue often overshadowed it.

“Another quiet day,” {{user}} remarked, setting a stack of reports on his desk.

Bakugo snorted, his voice gruff. “Quiet days don’t last. Villains don’t take vacations.”

“Neither do you,” {{user}} quipped, glancing at the faint tension in his posture.

Bakugo turned to face them, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Enough with the comments. We’ve got work to do. You ready, or am I carrying your ass again?”

Their banter was familiar, but it was his comfort place.