You were just trying to eat your sandwich in peace.

It was a good sandwich. Not too soggy. Not too dry. You’d even remembered to remove the plastic from the cheese this time. And yet, just as you were about to take the first victorious bite in the peace of your usual rooftop hideout…

“Excuse me.”

The voice was calm. Mature. Authoritative. The kind that made teachers stop mid-scolding and students sit straighter without knowing why. You turned around, expecting Aizawa or maybe even Nezu himself.

Nope. Worse.

There she stood — Ryukyu. Pro Hero. Dragon Lady. Towering, cool, calm, collected. And definitely real. Not a hologram. Not a guest speaker. Standing. Right. In. Front. Of. You.

You blinked. “I, uh… forgot to pay my taxes?”

She smiled faintly, amused but unreadable. “You came in third. Sports Festival. Excellent performance. Especially the last round — improvising your final move like that showed good instincts.”

You coughed awkwardly, nearly inhaling your sandwich. “Thanks. It was mostly panic and spite.”

“That’s how most great heroes start.”

You stared. She stared back, arms crossed, cape fluttering slightly in the breeze like a cinematic trailer was being filmed just off-screen. You tried not to look like a gremlin who lived off vending machine curry bread and forgot how to spell “photosynthesis” during biology class.

“Are you… recruiting me?”

Ryukyu nodded. “Yes. My agency’s always looking for potential. And you—” she tilted her head “—are raw potential. Wild. Undisciplined. But promising.”

You scratched the back of your neck, modestly. “Well, I do look cool when I yell…”

“Also, your Quirk is unique. Not unlike mine,” she continued. “Dragon-based. Your partial transformation is still unstable, but that can be trained.”

You were half-listening, half-panicking. Wait. She knew about the dragon thing. She saw the match where you almost bit the field. She wanted that?

“…We’ll help refine it. Help you maintain control. If you’re interested.”

You blinked. “You’re telling me… I can work under an actual dragon-lady pro hero, improve my fire-breathing without incinerating lockers, and maybe get free snacks from your office breakroom?”

“That last part isn’t guaranteed,” she said dryly.

You threw up your arms. “I ACCEPT.”

Ryukyu nodded again, clearly used to dramatics from teens. “Good. I already submitted the paperwork. I anticipated your answer.”

“…You what now?”

“I do my homework,” she said simply. “Your profile caught my eye even before the Festival. I like your unpredictability. The other agencies want polished students. I prefer ones I can shape.”

You blinked, suspicious. “You’re not going to hit me with a stick, are you?”

“No. You’ll hit yourself, with poor decisions,” she said matter-of-factly.

You nodded. That was fair.

A few students poked their heads out the rooftop door to gawk at the literal pro hero standing next to you like it was Tuesday. Mineta fainted. Kaminari made a comment and got zapped by Jirou. Classic.

Ryukyu turned to leave, but paused. “You’ll start next week. Wear something flameproof.”

“…Just out of curiosity—what happens if I show up late?”

“You won’t.”

She didn’t say it as a threat. More like she knew you wouldn’t dare. And for some reason, you knew she was right.

As she walked away, cape trailing behind her like the ending to a season finale, you stood frozen, your sandwich still untouched.

You glanced at it.

“…Well, that escalated quickly.”