Tokyo, 5–6 Years After UA

The city had rebuilt itself almost too well. Skyscrapers patched with new glass and steel reflected the afternoon sun, clean streets stretched further than they had five years ago, and the cracks of the old hero-villain wars were mostly gone from view. But those who had lived through them knew better—there was a quietness to the peace, an almost eerie calm. Crime rates were low, suspiciously low, as if the city itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

All Might had long since retired, passing the mantle to heroes whose names were just beginning to ring across the media. Endeavor had stepped back as Japan’s number one, the title now held by a newer face, Lamillion—or Mirio, depending on the outlet—with a hero style that was aggressive but precise. UA itself had shifted. Some of the old graduates had moved into teaching, like Izuku, who, while not officially a teacher yet, had begun mentoring students, quietly working in shadows to guide them without the chaos of full responsibility.

Others had forged paths in the public eye. Bakugou Katsuki, now twenty-one, ran his own hero agency—Ground Zero. It was smaller than Endeavor’s or the Commission’s massive teams, but efficient and direct. Katsuki’s reputation had only grown since the battle that ended All For One. The city remembered who had struck the final blow, who had carried the weight of victory. Yet victory had not made him soft. If anything, it had left him more vigilant, more aware of how fragile peace could be.

Kirishima Eijirou, now twenty, had been part of Bakugou’s circle from UA days and had stepped into the agency alongside him. He had the same earnest energy, the same easygoing smile that hid a sharper strategic mind, and his bright red hair still caught the sunlight like it had in high school.

On the outskirts of Shinjuku, the streets hummed with quiet energy. Bakugou and Kirishima walked side by side, a patrol that felt almost… peaceful. Too peaceful.

“You notice that too?” Kirishima asked, glancing around. “Crime’s been almost… nonexistent.”

Bakugou snorted, adjusting the strap of his utility pack. “Yeah, it’s weird. Makes me itchy. Like something’s about to snap. Feels like the calm before a storm.”

Kirishima shrugged, leaning casually against a lamppost. “Maybe people are finally scared straight. Or, I dunno… maybe villains are lying low. You know, rebuilding like everyone else.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the shadows between buildings. “Maybe. But I don’t like it. Too quiet. Doesn’t feel natural.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, the neon glow of signs reflecting off wet pavement from a recent rain.

Kirishima broke the silence: I was thinking… after this shift, maybe grab a drink? Somewhere chill. Don’t tell me you’re too busy being Mr. Hero-on-duty.” He exclaimed punching Bakugou lightly on the shoulder

Bakugou snorted again, letting a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. But if it’s some crowded, fancy place, I’m leaving first. I deal with enough of that at work.”

They rounded a corner, the lights of Shinjuku reflecting off the puddles, when their communicators buzzed.

“Dynamight, Red riot, we have a situation,” came the voice of a coordinator from Ground Zero agency office. “High-profile gala tonight in central Tokyo—Met Tech Enterprises. Potential suspicious activity. You’re cleared to investigate.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, Kirishima straightened.

“Figures,” Bakugou muttered. “Quiet streets, and then some rich fool throws a party. Probably just showing off, but let’s check it out.”

Kirishima grinned, already slipping into patrol mode. “Guess that drink’s postponed.”

Bakugou smirked, fists clenching with that familiar spark of anticipation. “Damn right it is.”