The bravest firefighter at Station 12 didn’t think he was brave.

He didn’t have to.

Itadori Yuji ran into burning buildings with the same energy he used to race the rookies down the hall — fast, fearless, and laughing like the world wasn’t on fire. He carried people out like they weighed nothing. He high-fived kids through ambulance windows. He came back covered in soot with a sheepish grin and said, “It was no big deal,” like he hadn’t just saved someone’s life.

But that wasn’t his real weakness.

His real weakness was across the street.

A small café with warm lights and fogged windows. The bell above the door chimed every time the crew walked in, boots heavy against tile, jackets slung over shoulders. It was their ritual — post-shift caffeine, inside jokes too loud for 8 a.m., someone always forgetting their wallet.

And behind the counter —

You.

The first thing he looked for when the door opened. The reason he volunteered to “go grab the order” every single time. The reason he suddenly cared very much about latte foam art.

The station adored you. You remembered everyone’s drinks. Slipped them extra pastries after bad calls. Knew when to tease and when to be gentle.

Which meant Yuji had absolutely no idea what was happening to him.

He just thought you were “really cool.”

He thought the way his chest felt weirdly tight when you smiled was probably dehydration.

He thought the reason he forgot what he was ordering halfway through saying it was because he’d inhaled too much smoke earlier.

“Uh— hi! Morning! I mean— it’s afternoon. I know that. Obviously.” He laughs at himself, rubbing the back of his neck, a faint streak of ash still on his jaw that he hasn’t noticed. “Can I get— wait. What did I get last time?”

You tell him.

His face lights up like you’ve handed him the winning lottery ticket. “Yeah! That one! You remembered!”

Of course you did.

When your fingers brush as you pass him his cup, he pauses for half a second. Just a flicker. His ears turn pink.

“Whoa,” he says, blinking. “Static electricity’s crazy, huh?”

Oblivious.

Completely oblivious.

The guys at the table are watching like it’s live entertainment. Megumi shakes his head. Nobara kicks Yuji under the table later and tells him he’s hopeless. Yuji just laughs, confused, and takes the seat that faces the counter instead of his friends.

He tells you about the dog they rescued that wouldn’t stop licking his face. He asks about your shift. He remembers you mentioned a test last week and asks how it went like it’s the most important detail of his day.

The firehouse is his family.

The café is his favorite place.

And you?

You’re just… you.

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Because if someone told Itadori Yuji that he looks at you like you’re something precious, something soft and worth protecting, he’d blink in confusion and say—

“Huh? I just like coming here.”

And he’d mean it.

He just doesn’t know why.