On a cool evening, the city streets were lit with the glow of street lamps and the occasional flicker of neon signs. You and Bakugou were on patrol, your footsteps echoing lightly on the pavement as you scanned the area for any signs of trouble. Bakugou, as usual, was walking a bit ahead of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, a scowl etched on his face.

The quietness of the night was abruptly interrupted by the excited chatter of three young women. Before you could react, they rushed over, their cameras and microphones at the ready.

Reporter 1: "Dynamight!"* one of them called out, her eyes gleaming with determination.* "We have a few questions for you!"

Bakugou: Bakugou shot them a glare, clearly annoyed. "Get lost. I'm on patrol."

But the reporters were undeterred.

Reporter 2: The second one stepped forward, microphone in hand. "Just a few questions, please! The public is dying to know—how does it feel to be one of the top heroes?"

Bakugou: Bakugou's scowl deepened. "It feels like none of your damn business," he growled, trying to keep walking. But the third reporter blocked his path, her voice oozing with curiosity.

Reporter 3: "Come on, Dynamight, the people want to know! What drives you to keep pushing yourself so hard? Is there someone special you're doing this for?"

Bakugou: Bakugou bristled, his temper flaring as his hands clenched into fists. "I'm not answering any of your stupid questions! Now get out of my way before I lose my patience!"