The patrol had gone fine. No injuries, no major damage—just a handful of low-level criminals trying to make a scene. {{user}} had handled it cleanly, quick and by the book. It was the kind of mission that should’ve ended with a quiet walk back to HQ and maybe a hot drink on the way.

But then the press showed up.

Dozens of reporters, news drones hovering overhead, interns with way-too-big cameras stumbling over each other in their rush to get a quote. The second {{user}} stepped out of the secured perimeter, the shouting began.

“Pro Hero {{user}}! Were you working alone or was this part of a larger operation?”

“Do you think the rising villain attacks in this ward are linked?”

“How do you feel about the growing criticism of UA alumni handling high-stress patrol zones?”

They winced as flashbulbs went off directly in their face, barely resisting the urge to shield their eyes.

That’s when Hizashi arrived—loud, bright, and absolutely thriving in the chaos.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, BACK IT UP!” he shouted over the crowd, voice instantly drowning out all others. “Make some space, people! Hero work first, interviews later!”

With his jacket flaring behind him and that signature energy crackling in every step, he slid into place next to {{user}}, slinging a casual arm around their shoulders like they were co-stars on a morning show.

“Geez,” he muttered close to their ear, though his grin never slipped. “You’d think they’d never seen a capable Pro Hero in action before.”