This was the last thing you needed after a long day of patrol.

You managed to catch exactly one criminal. And as the #4 Pro Hero, you’d think it’d be some high-level villain. A real headline-maker.

Wrong.

It was a purse-snatching nobody—going after some poor old lady like he was auditioning for a daytime soap.

How cliché.

You had him cuffed and down in under four seconds. Didn’t even break a sweat. Then, like a glorified babysitter, you hauled him off to the station.

Dragging him through the front doors, you glanced around. The place was basically dead.

“Helloooo?” you called, exasperation coating every syllable. “Pro Hero on babysitting duty. One discount villain, comes with a coupon for disappointment.”

The thief scoffed behind you. “Bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shot him a flat look over your shoulder. “You stole a purse and tripped over your own feet. Be grateful I didn’t post the footage.”

“Back here,” came a voice from the hallway—deep, calm, and tired in a way that somehow made it even more attractive.

You turned.

Oh.

Maybe this day wasn’t a total loss.

The man who stepped into view was tall and lean, the kind of composed that only came from running on black coffee and decades of knowing too much. His dark hair was neatly combed back, though silver was starting to thread through the temples—a quiet nod to age, or maybe stress, probably both. Sharp, observant eyes met yours—half-lidded, mildly exasperated, but still focused. Like he could see right through you.

The coat. The loosened tie. The clipboard tucked under his arm. Name tag reading Naomasa Tsukauchi.