Chapter Text
saeko muzi, your best friend of five years, causally just decided, very calmly and with immense restraint, that you were the most unemployed person she had ever met in her entire life, which was such an impressive lie, considering the fact that you were sitting on her couch with a framed diploma from seiai academy hanging crookedly behind you. the nerve of this girl!
“bro, that’s insane,” you said, scrolling on your phone without looking up, thumbs moving lazily, “i’m literally on my gap year.”
“you graduated two years ago.” saeko deadpanned.
“exactly,” you replied, pleased, as if that had only proven your point, “long gap year. lemme live out my days in peace.” you waved a dismissive hand at saeko as she stared at you, then at the diploma, then back at you, her bioluminescent quirk flickering a faint red along her collarbone in a color that meant she was either annoyed or seriously considering violence. “you told me you applied to every hero agency in the country.”
“i did.”
“every one?”
“yup,” you said, popping the 'p' for emphysis.
she stood up, walked over, and wordlessly plucked your phone from your hands, ignoring your noise of protest as she unlocked it with a muscle memory that said this was not the first time she had done this. seriously, it might be time to changes passcodes. three taps later, she had your sent emails pulled up, then another two taps, and suddenly your entire professional future was laid bare in the most humiliating way possible.
there was a long pause.
“this,” saeko said slowly, scrolling, “is not a resume.”
you leaned over the arm of the couch, squinting. “but it has my name?”
“it has your quirk.”
"yeah," you nod proudly, “very important.”
“it has a photo,” she continued, frowning.
“oouh, i look good in that one!" you point, grinning.
“and then,” she finished, reading aloud with a tone that suggested she was fighting demons, “‘i am worthy of being your sidekick because i just am’??!?”
you smiled. “i only speak the truth, saeko-ko.”she turned to you with the expression of someone deciding whether murder would be legally justified.
“you didn’t list your education.”
you roll your eyes, flopping back onto the couch and stretching like a tired cat, “well, duh, they can google me. only one perfect and talented me out there.”
“oh my god, you didn’t even list experiences!” saeko exclaimed, glaring at you.
“uhhmm... okay, add that i’ve saved lives.”
“okay, but you didn’t list references.”
“hah! i don’t need character witnesses. the big G up there is my spokeslord.”
saeko closed her eyes, rubbed her tempel, inhaled deeply, exhaled, then reopened them, glowing faintly brighter. “you are not mysterious,” she said, very carefully, “you are unemployable. no wonder i saw the reddit app trying to find your emails.”
“yet,” you corrected, before sitting up with a scowl, "as for the reddit thing, you know i use it only to read snark on people!"
she didn't even respond to that, shaking her head with a loud exhale, and scrolled again, faster this time, then stopped. “hmm... did you apply to ground zero?”
you paused a kind that only happened when your brain realized it had made a mistake several months ago and was only now being forced to acknowledge it. you leaned back, staring at the ceiling, mentally replaying your list of agencies, your confident send buttons, the sheer faith you had placed in your own aura.
"uhh... no?"
saeko turned slowly, rising a brow. “you didn’t? jeez, i seriously thought you were an actual lost cause. what are you waiting for, then?"
“lost cause?! and, to be fair,” you said, crossing your arms, “everyone knows that agency—ah, no, hellhole is a nightmare. i've heard people have cried getting rejected from that guy...you'd think he's got the cure to cancer in there...or maybe he's hiding files and—”
"alright, quit it!" saeko grabbed a chair and dragged it over, already opening a new document on her tablet. “you’re applying. and you're making a legit, respectable resume right here, right now.”
"nuh-uh, i don't want to." you shake your head, going back to scrolling on your phone.
"do. it." saeko's voice was final and, frankly, kind of scared you from how her eyes bore holes into your skull.
and, so, three hours later, your resume was immaculate, disgustingly so, polished down to phrasing that made even you pause and go, wow, i sound terrifying... terrifyingly amazing! duh. education listed, quirk description and limitations explained, tactical strengths highlighted, incident reports summarized, all the things you had assumed were optional apparently very much not.
you hit send with a satisfied tap, then leaned back, glowing softly in relief.
that was many, many months ago.
the call came in mid autumn, leaves clogging the gutters outside and the air sharp enough to feel like a warning, and you almost missed it because you were asleep. who calls people at the ass-crack of dawn!?
anyway, it was the ground zero hero agency and you stared at the screen, then at saeko, who looked like she might cry either because your ringtone was a man screaming in some echo-y hallway and woke her up with a start, or because you were about to become employed—who knows with the girl.
“c'mon, bro, this could’ve stayed an email,” you muttered groggily, rubbing your eyes, but answering anyway. it's then your informed that the interview was scheduled for the next morning.
you told yourself you would go to bed early, responsibly, like a functioning adult with a scheduled interview and a future to consider, you even said it out loud as if announcing it made it more likely to happen.
however... you, in fact, did not go to bed early.
you laid down early, which felt close enough, eight thirty-ish. then checked your phone, then checked it again, then remembered something you forgot to check, then stared at the ceiling thinking about how interviews were mostly just vibes anyway, then wondered what bakugou katsuki even looked like in person, then absolutely did not think about that at all, and at some point your brain shut off without consulting you.
the first alarm went off and was immediately silenced.
the second alarm followed it into the void.
by the eighth alarm, saeko had snapped.
you woke up to the sound of violence, specifically pots and pans colliding inches from your face, saeko standing over you like a divine punishment with glowing skin and murder in her eyes.
“BITCH WAKE THE FUCK UP,” she yelled.
you sat up so fast your soul lagged behind. “OKAY, O-OKAY! I’M AWAKE, I’M AWAKE.”
“YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES.”
you sharply gasp, slapping both your hands over your mouth in fear. "..wait, time is a man-made concept, so if this mega-smart dynamight can get that through his brain, maybe—"
saeko started up slamming the pots and pans again, "GET. UP. NO. TALKING. GO. GO."
without another word, you tripped over your own sheets, almost brushed your teeth with saeko's brush, and you barely had time to think before you were pulling your hero costume out from the back of the closet, fingers hesitating on the fabric like it might bite, you hadn’t worn it in ages, long enough that you half expected it not to fit at all, but it slid on easier than you thought, familiar in a way that felt strange rather than comforting, like running into an old version of yourself you weren’t sure you still recognized.
it fit, technically, which was almost worse, the seams sitting where they always had, the weight settling on your shoulders like muscle memory, and you stared at your reflection for a second too long, adjusting straps with hands that suddenly felt very aware of the fact you might actually arrive to your interview late.
after nearly missed the train by a margin that felt personal, sprinting down the platform with saeko shouting advice on the phone that was mostly just insults. you made it with seconds to spare, heart pounding.
the ground zero hero agency looked exactly like you expected it to, all steel and concrete and sharp lines, the kind of building that felt like it would judge you for breathing too loudly. the lobby was spotless in a way that felt aggressive, like someone had scrubbed it with spite, and the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and ozone.
the front desk person looked up when you walked in and smiled, and that was their first mistake.
“hello,” the lady greeted pleasantly and very professional composed, clearly having had a normal morning so far, “welcome to ground zero, how can i help you?”
“hii,” you said back, just as pleasant, “i have an interview with your boss.” you winked.
her smile faltered, but it stayed present, fingers already moving across the keyboard. “name?”
you told them, watching their eyes flick briefly to the screen, then pause, then flick back up to your face with a look that was still polite but noticeably more alert, like they had just been informed they were about to be observed.
“..right,” they said, nodding, “you’re a little early.”
“i respect punctuality,” you replied, trying to not act like you were about to burst into tears of relief. and here you thought you would've been exploded to the edge of the virgo supercluster for being late and wasting dynamight's time.
she hummed in acknowledgment, then gestured to the seating area. “you can take a seat, someone will come get you shortly.” you nodded, then hesitated, hovering in place.
the front desk person glanced up again. “..yes?”
“so, quick question,” you said, leaning slightly on the counter, “how do sick days work here?”
they blinked. once. “sick..days?”
“yeah,” you said, casual, “like how many do i get?”
“that would be covered after hiring.”
“ballpark. two? five? thirty?”
her smile tightened just a little. “it depends.”
“cool, cool, coolio,” you nodded, satisfied, then immediately followed up, “and if, say, someone doesn't plan on using their days off, can they give them away?”
she stopped typing. "excuse me? give them away?” she repeated, glancing around the room.
“yeah,” you said, nodding earnestly, “like if someone doesn't plan on using theirs, can they consent to transferring their days to me?” there was a pause, long enough for the hum of the building to feel louder.
“…yeah, uhm, no,” she said, pursing her lips together. "sorry."
“oh...okay,” you replied, unfazed, “but hypothetically, if everyone involved agreed, like everybody was fine if i took their days off. and i ended up, with like, a hundred days off. also, how many can i cash in a time?”
“also no. and you'd have to ask dynamight about that last one.”
“interesting,” you murmured, thoughtful, “and what if it’s, like, a group vote? like even if dynamight was okay with that.”
the front desk person stared at you, their pleasant expression finally cracking just enough to let exhaustion seep through. “you haven’t even been hired.”
“i know,” you said, “i just like to plan ahead.”
they inhaled, exhaled, then gave you a smile that was still technically a smile but had absolutely no warmth left in it. “please have a seat.”
you turned toward the chairs, then stopped again. slowly turning back to the lady. “oh, yeah! one last thing.”
her eye twitched as she looked up from her computer.
“is there a dress code?” you asked, glancing down at yourself, “or is this a vibes-based environment?”
“sit.” she firmly says.
you smiled, genuinely this time, and went to sit down, hands folding neatly in your lap as you waited, aware that somewhere behind that desk, someone was probably already reconsidering their career choices.
you had been sitting for maybe three minutes when a side door opened and someone stepped out, not loud, not dramatic, just present in a way that made the front desk person straighten immediately.
they were tall, older than you, wearing an jacket that had seen actual use, the kind of wear that couldn’t be faked. their eyes flicked to the tablet in their hand, then up to you.
“you,” they said.
you looked behind you, then back at them pointing to yourself. “me?”
their expression scream who else as they nodded once. “follow me.”
no name, no explanation, already turning away, and you stood without hesitation, because if there was one thing you were good at, it was committing fully to situations you probably shouldn’t be in.
as you followed them through the halls, the agency revealed itself in layers, training rooms you passed by with reinforced glass walls, equipment lockers that looked more like armories, the distant thud of controlled explosions that rattled faintly through the floor like the building’s heartbeat.
“how many people make it past interviews,” you asked conversationally.
the person glanced back at you. “not many.”
...comforting.
they stopped in front of an elevator and swiped a card. the doors slid shut behind you with a quiet finality, and the silence inside was heavy, the kind that made even the hum of the lift feel intrusive.
the doors opened onto a quieter level, offices lining the walls, everything cleaner, sharper, more deliberate, and at the very end of the hall sat a door that didn’t need a nameplate to announce who it belonged to. the person stopped in front of it, turned to you fully now. “don’t waste his time. just answer the questions and do your best.”
you nodded, suddenly ridden with nerves which was weird, because you were fine the whole way here. now you suddenly were hesitant and scared? what's the big idea, body!? they knocked once, sharp and loud, then opened the door without waiting for a response.
“interview’s here,” they said, stepping aside, mouthing a 'good luck' as they walked away.
you slowly walked in, closing the door behind you.
bakugou katsuki’s office was exactly what you expected and still somehow worse, functional to the point of hostility, no personal clutter, no decorations, just a heavy desk, a couple of chairs, and wide windows overlooking the city like it was something he was daring to challenge.
he was already there, seated, arms crossed, posture rigid, red eyes snapping up the second you crossed the threshold, sharp and assessing, like he was already halfway through deciding whether you were worth the oxygen. the first thing you notice was the fact there was... spicy gum on his desk.
oh HELL no. that's a crime against humanity!!!
“sit,” he said, and you did quickly settling into the chair across from him, posture relaxed but attentive, hands folding neatly like you were the one conducting this. he stared at you in silence for a long moment, long enough for most people to start fidgeting.
you didn’t, but your leg was bouncing slightly.
“you’re late,” he said finally, making your tilt your head in confusion.
“huh? i was told i was a bit early,” you replied. his mouth twitched, just barely, then flattened again. choosing to ignore that, he continued “you applied months ago, and you sent a real application,” he continued, eyes narrowing, “after a bunch of bullshit ones.”
you froze for a moment, staring at him, trying to reconstruct what had actually happened, because it didn’t make sense, you could _swear_ you had never sent an application here, not a real one, not anything that would actually reach someone like him. and then it hit you—oh right, the originals.
the ones you had dashed off months ago, the quick “i’m worthy because i am” type submissions that had been… deleted. seako had been furious, scrolling through your inbox, trying to prove a point that never existed, but she couldn’t find them because, well, you had erased them like they were nothing.
basically, there had been no evidence of your careless chaos sent to dynamights agency, yet somehow, somewhere, bakugou katsuki had actually seen it. that fact alone made your stomach twist in an unusual mix of unese, terror, and something like… anticipation.
you opened your mouth to explain, to make a joke, to at least break the tension of the silent, fiery appraisal, but he cut you off, leaning back slightly, eyes still sharp and unyielding, like he was dissecting your aura and every thought before you even had a chance to articulate it.
he didn’t acknowledge your monologue, of course, because bakugou never acknowledged unnecessary chatter. instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp and flat, and said, “i don’t care how many applications you sent, or how many idiots you outsmarted along the way. it doesn’t matter that you’re sitting here. most people like you never even make it this far because they’re too cocky to realize they’re worthless.”
you blinked, swallowing the initial surge of insult. “oh,” you said slowly, “well, i mean… i suppose that’s… one way to put it.” your leg bounced, subtly, because you were 100 percent aware that this was a test and not a personal attack.
he narrowed his eyes. “don’t get smart with me. you look like the type that’s going to waste my time, so let’s just get it out of the way. why should i even consider letting you work here?”
“well,” you said, matching his deadpan tone with your own brand of smug calm, “because i can actually do it. i can survive this, follow instructions, and i’m not afraid to think for myself, and more importantly, i know my quirk better than anyone else who’s tried to apply here in the last year.”
probably, you wanted to add, but you shut your lips in the final second. confidence is key, you remind yourself.
his lips twitched in the barest hint of a sneer, dismissive, like he was preparing to throw you out mid-sentence. “sure. everyone says that. seems like everyone’s some hotshot genius with some weird quirk that’s supposed to make them better than everyone else. so what? why don’t you prove it then?”
“i can’t prove it yet,” you said smoothly, “not here. but i _can_ promise that when it counts, when the actual work starts, i will not lose.”
he scoffed, leaned forward slightly, and his eyes pinched into a sharp line, “you think you’re special? that you’re different?”
you tilted your head, leaning forward now, letting the confidence in your words hit him where it mattered, “yes. yes, i actually do. and not just a little different, i’m completely different. in fact, i think...no, i will beat you if it comes to that, because i don’t have a single chance of losing. i know exactly how to handle my quirk, how to outthink anyone, including you, and i _don’t_ hesitate.”
the room went dead silent. even the hum of the city beyond the window seemed muted. bakugou’s posture stiffened, eyes locking onto yours, red irises sharp like blades, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. he didn’t say a word for a long moment, just stared, weighing, testing, seeing if you were lying.
you stayed perfectly still, hands folded neatly on your lap, legs steady, pulse calm despite the adrenaline humming in your veins. your gaze didn’t waver.
finally, after what felt like forever, he leaned back slightly, just enough to admit the smallest crack of acknowledgment, “hm.”
you let yourself relax a fraction, smirking just slightly, because even though he wouldn’t say it outright, even though the dismissal still lingered in his tone, you knew you had done something the other applicants couldn’t: you made the great explosion murder god himself pause.
he returned to his usual harsh glare, but now it carried a new edge, something like… respect, buried deep and carefully guarded. “don’t screw it up,” he said flatly, arms folding back over his chest, “you get one shot. one mistake, and you’re out. now sit tight, we’ll see if you’re actually capable.”
and that was it, the final dismissal… except it wasn’t a dismissal at all. not really.
you sat, perfectly composed, still letting your mind race, because the game had just begun and, finally, you were exactly where you wanted to be. the first challenge? surviving dynamight—successful.