delusional-through-and-through

[delusional-through-and-through]

A SIP 🎮

(Just a short silly scenario i came up with after seeing several videos on TikTok under that one audio.)

Itsuki stood at the railing, quietly sipping her coffee through a straw. Below, officers were training hard in the courtyard—sparring, shouting, running drills. Her dark eyes stared at them blanky.

Footsteps padded up behind her.

“Yo,” Narumi emerged, yawning dramatically as he joined her at the railing—his jacket halfway on, his hair completely unbrushed, a gaming console still peeking out of his back pocket like an extension of his body.

He leaned his arms against the rail beside her, not even looking before casually reaching out. “Gimme a sip?”

Itsuki didn’t even blink. Wordlessly, she handed over the coffee.

Narumi took it with a grin. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

He placed his lips on the straw and took the biggest, most obnoxiously confident sip imaginable.

His eyes widened.

He froze.

Then his entire soul tried to exit his body through his tongue.

He violently spit the coffee into the ground. “BWAAAGHH—WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

“…Coffee.”

“What did you do to it? Why the hell is it so bitter? Did you brew it with rage? Damn, Itsuki, do you even have taste buds?!”

Itsuki silently took her drink back and just look at him flatly.

“It's been a rough morning.”

Narumi stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “You need therapy. Or sugar. Or both.”

She said nothing and sipped her coffee again without flinching.

Narumi backed away slowly like he’d just seen something truly unholy.

[delusional-through-and-through]

LATE NIGHT 🎮

The First Division headquarters was quiet. Most of the squad members were either deep in slumber or off-shift, leaving the dormitory halls cloaked in hushed stillness. The low hum of the heater and the occasional mechanical whirr were the only signs of life.

In her private quarters, Itsuki sat cross-legged on her bed, propped up against a stack of pillows. The light from her tablet screen softly illuminated her face as her eyes scanned the mission reports. As head of the First Division’s operations team, she had to stay on top of every update—even during downtime.

She didn’t flinch when the door suddenly burst open without so much as a knock. There was only one person who’d barge into her room like he owned the place.

Narumi Gen. Her captain. Her boyfriend. A clingy brat when no one was watching.

“Geez. You didn’t even flinch. What if I were an intruder?” he teased, already kicking off his boots near the door.

“And you didn't even knock, I could’ve been naked, you know,” Itsuki murmured without looking up from her tablet.

“Nope,” Gen replied confidently as he kicked the door shut behind him. “You’re wearing those stupid fluffy socks again. I can feel it in the air.”

He was right. Itsuki wore them every time she planned to stay up late.

Before she could retort, the tablet was swiped cleanly from her hands. “Gen—” she began, only to be cut off when her overgrown menace of a boyfriend flopped straight down on top of her, using her chest like his personal pillow.

With his legs tangled between hers and his weight pressing down slightly, she gave an exasperated grunt but made no move to push him off. Instead, she adjusted a bit, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“You’re heavy.”

“I missed you,” he mumbled into her collarbone, ignoring her complaint entirely. “You’ve been in here for hours. I'm dying out there.”

“You were literally playing a game ten minutes ago. I could hear you yelling across the hallway.”

“Yeah, and I was dying without you.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small tug at the corner of her lips. “You’re a menace.”

“But I’m your menace.”

A silence fell over them, comfortable and grounding. His breathing evened out as he lay there on her quietly, only occasionally rubbing his cheek against her skin like a clingy cat.

Then she suddenly felt it—his lips pressing firmly against her own. Slow and deliberate. No teasing, just the quiet kind of affection that made her chest ache a little.

His hand came up to cradle her jaw gently, tilting her face to deepen the kiss. He tasted like mint and late-night mischief, tongue brushing lightly against hers in a lazy, unhurried motion.

Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his shirt. “Gen…”

He pulled back just enough to breathe before trailing kisses down the side of her jaw. “Hmm?”

Then lower—to her neck. He started soft, almost ghosting over her skin, but each pass of his lips got more insistent. She could feel the heat of his mouth as his tongue slipped out, wet and slow, tracing a line from the base of her neck to just under her ear.

“Gen—” she hissed through her teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t give me hickeys. I have a meeting to attend to tomorrow.”

“Oh?” he said, clearly amused, his lips still brushing against her skin. “I’ll just give it somewhere you can hide, then.”

“Gen.” Her voice was sharp now, but her body betrayed her with the way she shivered under his mouth.

He grinned against her throat and licked a warm stripe across her pulse point just to hear the little sound she made in response. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“You’re impossible.”

He looked up with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming under his tousled hair. “You knew what you signed up for. Admit it. You missed me too.”

“We had a strategy meeting together five hours ago.”

“Yeah, but you were wearing your serious face. I like this one better.” He leaned in and gave her another kiss—this time on the cheek.

“…You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re still dating me, so what does that make you?”

“Exhausted,” she said dryly, her hand brushing his hair.

“Then let me help you unwind.”

“You’re not helping. You’re heavy.”

He only hummed in response, his cheek rested comfortably against her collarbone again, arms curling tighter around her waist. “Just let me stay like this a while.”

“I still need to finish those reports,” she murmured.

“I’ll hold them hostage until you promise to cuddle me.”

“You’re already in my arms.”

“Then promise you won’t push me off when I fall asleep drooling on you.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Fine. Stay. Just… don’t go for my neck again.”

“No promises.”

She exhaled, placing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Good night.”

[delusional-through-and-through]

BRING ME🎮

Sayaka had just finished submitting her round of reports. She's staying at the first division base for a few days to wrap up some business before she returned to her division.

She made her way across the main training yard, her boots clicked softly over gravel dusted by last night’s snow.

There was a commotion up ahead—laughter, cheers, and a crowd of officers gathered in a loose circle—but she didn’t pay it much attention. First Division had always been a rowdy bunch, after all.

..................

Out in the training yard, things were far less peaceful.

A crowd had gathered, First Division officers, a few platoon leaders, and—predictably—Captain Gen Narumi, who stood off to the side with arms crossed, looking irritated but… still present.

He’d initially scoffed at the idea of participating in a silly “Bring Me” game and would rather be laying in his futon grinding that platinum rank.

The game was simple: the host would call out an item, and the first person to return with it won. Winners can chose a prize and were then out of the game. So far, a few had walked off with vouchers, sweets, and even a dinner ticket to a fancy restaurant.

Narumi didn’t care. Until he saw it.

Sitting at the very bottom of the prize table, practically glowing under the morning sun, was the limited-edition game set—a collector’s item he had tried and failed to secure when it dropped on the market. His eyes widened. His competitive fire lit instantly.

Game on.

But it had been several rounds, and Narumi was still empty-handed. He was getting irritated, grumbling to himself as other officers snagged prizes left and right.

Then, the host stepped forward again, smirking.

“Alright! Next round!” he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Bring me… something very pretty!”

The yard burst into chaos as everyone scattered. Some dashed toward the gardens. Others went looking for polished gear, flowers, decorations—whatever they could think of.

Narumi, on the other hand, looked around with growing annoyance.

What’s even considered “very pretty”? Flowers? Jewelry? Sparkling crap?

Then his gaze shifted.

At the edge of the field, walking past the main path with perfect posture and a neutral expression, was Sayaka.

Her silver hair swayed gently with every step, catching the sunlight like strands of moonlight. Her presence alone turned a few heads—even some of the officers running paused for a moment, distracted.

Narumi's brain clicked into place.

“Oh hell yeah,” he muttered—and without thinking twice, sprinted.

...............

Just a few steps more and Sayaka's out of the chaotic zone. But fate had other plans.

A shadow zipped toward her with the speed and recklessness only one man was capable of.

“Gen?”

Before she could even register it, Narumi was suddenly in front of her, crouching low and sweeping her up bridal-style like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Put me down.” Her tone was as neutral as ever, but her narrowed eyes bore silent judgment.

“Nope,” he said, grinning like a madman. “I’m gonna win this time.”

With no further explanation, he dashed back across the field with Sayaka in his arms.

Officers parted like a wave as the infamous captain sprinted back toward the crowd, carrying the living embodiment of the term “very pretty” like a prize.

Then one of the officers whispered, “...Isn’t that Captain Sayaka?”

“HERE!!” Narumi shouted, skidding to a halt with a triumphant grin. “I BROUGHT SOMEONE VERY PRETTY.”

One platoon leader actually dropped the flower arrangement she was about to submit.

The host blinked.

“Well… I mean… you’re not wrong." The host then scratched his head. "Captain Narumi wins this round!”

Narumi smirked, victorious, and finally set Sayaka down with exaggerated care.

She brushed off her uniform, then gave him a long, unreadable look. “Next time, ask.”

Narumi shrugged. “Didn’t have time.”

She looked at his prize and muttered, “All that trouble for a game…”

“Totally worth it,” Narumi added, already reaching out to claim his prize like a victorious gremlin.

Sayaka only sighed.

[delusional-through-and-through]

Thank goodness they fixed his design.

WHY NOT PINK 🎮

8 Years Ago; First Division

The sun was beginning to set over Ariake Maritime Base. The sky blushed in shades of lavender and orange, casting a golden shimmer across the rooftop.

Sayaka sat on the concrete edge of the rooftop. Her silver hair moved softly with the breeze. Then a shuffle of boots behind her drew her eyes back.

Narumi strolled over, a plastic bag swinging from one hand, his console poking out of his back pocket. His usual smug smirk was in place, but it had a lazy tilt to it—he looked too tired to be obnoxious today.

“Oi,” he said, dropping the bag in front of her. “Help me dye my hair.”

Sayaka blinked at the bag. “…Now?”

“I got patrol in the morning. Can’t let the roots show. I have a reputation, y’know?” He crouched beside her, tugging off his jacket and running a hand through his hair pushing it back. “Look. Black’s showing again. It’s tragic.”

Sayaka tilted her head. “Why not ask someone from your platoon?”

He raised a brow. “You think I trust those gremlins with chemicals and my head? Nah. You’re neat and careful and you don’t talk too much. Ideal hairstylist energy.”

Sayaka blinked again. That… almost felt like a compliment?

She nodded once and gestured to the bag. “Okay.”

Together, they moved to the small bench tucked near the rooftop storage shed. Sayaka set up the gloves, comb, clips, and chemical bottle with methodical ease, eyes scanning the labels.

“Where’s the white dye?”

Narumi pointed. “Bottom of the bag.”

As she dug through, her hand brushed something else—a slim bottle with a soft pink-colored label.

She pulled it out.

“…Pink?” she said aloud, voice barely above her breath.

Narumi turned. “Huh? Oh yeah, that came with the shipment. I told the store white, they must have put that in by mistake. Toss it aside.”

Sayaka didn’t.

She stared at the bottle, then slowly looked back at Narumi’s hair.

A long pause.

“…Can we dye it pink instead?” she asked.

Narumi gawked. “What?”

“The white part,” she added. “Just the white part.”

“Are you serious? Pink? Pink!” His voice cracked. “Do I look like a shoujo protagonist to you?!”

Sayaka’s silver eyes didn’t waver.

“It’s cute,” she said simply.

“C-cute?! I’m not trying to be cute, I’m trying to look cool! Scary! Like a dude who murders kaiju for fun!” He said, with his eyes far too wide.

“Pink can be intimidating.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!”

She kept holding the bottle, staring him down without so much as blinking.

Narumi groaned like he was being tortured.

“…Fine! Whatever! But if I get made fun of I’m blaming you,” he muttered, slumping forward.

Sayaka calmly squirted the dye into a bowl and started sectioning his hair. She worked in silence—delicate, precise, fingers threading through the strands like she was painting a canvas.

Narumi grumbled for a while. Then he dozed off halfway through.

When it was done, his head was a striking mix of inky black and soft rose-pink, under the night lights.

He stood in front of the reflective glass of the rooftop door, gawking.

“…I can’t believe I let you do this.”

Sayaka stood behind him, head tilted slightly.

“It suits you.”

“You have a weird sense of aesthetics.”

“You have a weird sense of rebellion.”

“…Touche.”

...................

Present Day

Back at her base at the 10th division, eight years later now, Sayaka sat in her command office reviewing recon footage.

On the side monitor, muted news footage showed Captain Narumi giving a chaotic post-sortie interview—flamboyant as ever, pink streaks still in his hair, like a blazing badge of bad decisions and charm.

Sayaka exhaled softly through her nose.

A smile, faint but genuine, lingered as she turned back to work.

[delusional-through-and-through]

WINDOW 💥

1. 2. 3.

PROJECT → LIBRARY → WINDOW

Kanata and Bakugou grew more closer to each other, even if neither of them openly acknowledged it.

During the weekdays, they balanced their busy schedules with regular classes and internships, they often come back to the dorms too exhausted to do much more than jot down a few notes for their project.

As a result, their weekends became the prime time for focusing on completing their research.

It was a routine they had been following for the past one and a half month, and it had become surprisingly comfortable for both of them.

Mitsuki, of course, adored Kanata’s presence and often took the opportunity to have tea with her. They still always poked fun at old pictures of Bakugou, much to his irritation.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Kanata said, holding up a photo of a younger Bakugou wearing a frilly apron. “What were you doing here, baking cookies?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Bakugou snapped, snatching the photo away.

Mitsuki laughed, sipping her tea. “That was for his kindergarten’s cultural day. He cried when I made him wear that!”

“I DIDN’T CRY!” Bakugou growled, his ears turning red.

Kanata smirked. “Aw, I can almost see the tears from here.”

Bakugou shot her a glare. “Keep running your mouth, Braids, and I’ll throw you out the window.”

“Try me then.” Kanata shot back with a cheeky grin.

................

Later that day, Kanata is working in Bakugou’s room, typing out notes. Before she realized it, her eyelids grew heavy, and she dozed off, her head resting on the table.

When Bakugou returned with a tray of water, Mitsuki was behind him, carrying a tray of snacks. Both of them paused when they saw Kanata sleeping soundly.

Mitsuki grinned mischievously. “You know, Katsuki, I’ve decided, I want her as my daughter-in-law. No one else will do. She's the only one I'll accept."

Bakugou groaned in annoyance, setting the tray on another table. “Shut it, old hag. You’re annoying.”

Mitsuki leaned closer, her grin widening. “You’re my son. Where’s your usual bravado? Grow some guts and ask her out.”

To her surprise, Bakugou whispered under his breath, “I know that already....”

Mitsuki’s eyes gleamed. “What was that? Did my stubborn son just admitted something?”

“Get out!” Bakugou barked, pushing her out of the room as she cackled her way down the hall.

Once she was gone, Bakugou sighed, grabbed a blanket, and draped it over Kanata’s shoulders.

“Tch. Dumbass fell asleep in the middle of work." He sits on his bed pulling out a manga to read while she slept.

..............

The sun was setting when Bakugou glanced at the clock and noticed Kanata was still asleep. He set down his manga and walked over to her.

“Oi, wake up,” he said, poking her shoulder lightly.

Kanata mumbled, “Five more minutes…” and buried her face in her arms.

Bakugo’s brow twitched in irritation. Without a second thought, he grabbed her cheeks and tugged it. “Wake up already, idiot!”

Kanata groaned, blinking her eyes open.

When her gaze landed on Bakugo’s face hovering close to hers, she blinked a few more times before muttering, “I just saw one hell of a nightmare.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What was it?”

Kanata smirked sleepily. “Your face.”

Bakugou scowled. “What the hell did you just say?!”

She stretched lazily, ignoring his reaction. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you don't."

..............

Bakugou packed Kanata’s belongings, carefully placing her notebook and pens into her bag before slinging it over his shoulder. With a sigh, he turned to Kanata, who was still rubbing her eyes and yawning.

He then grabbed her hand to guide her as she sluggishly made her way down the stairs, grumbling under her breath about still being half-asleep. When they reached the living room, she bid farewell to his parents.

“Thank you for having me again.” Kanata said politely, giving Mitsuki and Masaru a slight bow.

Mitsuki’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the fact that Bakugou is holding Kanata’s hand.

She smirked, giving her son a knowing glance that made his scowl deepen.

“Come on, let’s go,” Bakugou grumbled, dragging Kanata toward the door, before his mother could say anything else embarrassing.

...............

As they walked toward the station, Bakugou is still holding her hand, Kanata raised an eyebrow. “You know, this is becoming a habit of yours.” she teased, gesturing toward their joined hands.

“Tch, what are you talking about?” Bakugou grumbled, not letting go.

“I mean, you keep holding my hand.” Kanata pointed out with a sly grin.

Bakugou's face turned into a scowled. “It’s not a habit, dumbass. I’m just making sure you don’t trip or something.”

Kanata laughed softly. “Oh? So you’re saying I’m clumsy now?”

“Yeah, you are,” he shot back, glaring at her. “You nearly faceplanted this morning when you walked into my desk.”

Kanata laughed, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “Fine, fine. Keep making excuses, gentleman.”

He didn’t reply, but his grip on her hand remained firm as they walked.

A few minutes later, Bakugou stopped abruptly, shrugged off his jacket, and threw it at her. “Here, take this. It’s cold.”

Kanata caught the jacket, blinking in surprise. “You’re giving me your jacket? What’s the catch?”

“Just wear it, idiot. I don’t need you whining about freezing to death.” he snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You’re really full of surprises today, huh?” She slipped it on, savoring the warmth. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

He rolled his eyes but grabbed her hand again once she finished adjusting the jacket.

Kanata raised an eyebrow again, unable to resist teasing him. “There you go again. Are you sure it’s not a habit?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and looked straight ahead. “Shut up and keep walking.”

Kanata chuckled softly, feeling a strange sense of comfort as they walked hand in hand toward the station, the silence between them oddly companionable.

................

Kanata arrived at Bakugou's house the next weekend, a little late because she had overslept. As soon as she stepped inside, Bakugou gave her a pointed glare. “Why the hell are you late?” he demanded.

Kanata shrugged, dropping her bag onto the floor. “I overslept,” she admitted. “Our schedule’s been so hectic lately, I barely get enough.”

................

As Kanata skim through the stack of notes, jotting down key points for their research, she couldn’t help but notice Bakugou’s frequent glances in her direction.

“I know I'm a sight to behold, Bakugou, but if you’re not going to say something, I’m going to start getting creeped out.” Bakugou’s pencil stilled.

Kanata asked. “So? Do you have something to say, or are you just practicing your glaring technique?”

After a moment of silence, Bakugou took a deep breath, his voice come out unusually quiet. “Will you go out with me?”

Kanata blinked, looking up from the paper to meet his gaze. She tilted her head innocently and answered. “Sure... but where to?”

Bakugou stared at her, clearly unimpressed by her response. The room fell silent.

Without saying another word, he stood up, towering over her. “Stand up.”

“Why?”

Confused, Kanata complied. But before she could ask further questions, Bakugou, without a warning grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Kanata shrieked, struggling against his grip.

He stomped over to the window, yanked it open, and leaned out.

“You’re going out." Bakugou said nonchalantly, trying to shake her loose.

“Are you insane?! You're seriously throwing me out? I’ll die!” she yelled grabbing onto the window frame to resist.

“With your quirk, you’ll be fine,” Bakugou muttered, still trying to toss her out.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Kanata said, still clinging to the frame for her dear life.

Suddenly, she paused as a realization hit her. “Wait… when you said go out, did you mean like.... be in a relationship?”

Bakugou paused, then sighed. He pulled her back inside and set her down. “Yeah.” His voice was low, almost embarrassed.

Kanata stared at him for a moment before a sly grin spread across her face. "Well, well. It can’t be helped. I mean, look at me. I'm adorable, charming, and downright irresistible!"

She clasped her hands dramatically. "You’ve got excellent taste, Bakugou!"

Her smug monologue was cut short as Bakugou picked her up again and slung her over his shoulder.

“That’s it. I’m throwing you out for real this time.” he grumbled, heading back to the window.

“PUT ME DOWN!” Kanata yelled, kicking her legs.

As the commotion continued, Mitsuki entered the room, raising an eyebrow at the sight of her son trying to toss Kanata out the window.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, amused.

“Auntie! Help me! Your son’s trying to throw me out the window!” Kanata plead dramatically.

Mitsuki chuckled. “Ahh~ young love. You two have so much energy. Carry on!” With that, she walked away, leaving Kanata looking utterly betrayed.

“You’re just going to leave?!” Kanata yelled after her. "Your mom just abandoned me!” she wailed at Bakugou.

Bakugou smirked. “Guess no one’s coming to save you, Braids.”

Kanata glared at him. “Seriously? You literally just confessed a minute ago and now you're trying to toss me out. Is this how you treat the girl you’re asking out?”

“Only because she started spouting nonsense" Bakugou replied, glaring right back.

Kanata, refusing to go down without a fight, grabbed a handful of Bakugou’s hair and yanked it. “Fine! But if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!”

Bakugou winced, trying to pry her hands away. “Let go, you psycho!”

“Not until you put me down!” she retorted.

Their chaotic tug-of-war continued until Mitsuki returned with a camera.

“This is going in the family album.” she declared, snapping pictures while laughing hysterically.

Kanata paused mid-tug as she noticed Mitsuki standing there, camera in hand, grinning like she’d just won the lottery.

Kanata, still slung over Bakugou’s shoulder, hands still on his hair, sighed dramatically. “Well, great. Now this is immortalized."

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Mitsuki said, snapping another picture. "Keep going. Pretend I’m not here.”

Kanata gave up, waving a hand toward Mitsuki. “Fine, take all the pictures you want. But please make sure you capture my good side—I don’t want to look bad in my inevitable humiliation.”

"Don't you worry." She said. “This’ll be perfect for your wedding slideshow.”

Bakugou groaned, his ears turning red. “Old hag, get out of here!”

Mitsuki ignored him and looked directly at Kanata. “So, kid, are you saying yes to this idiot or not? I need to know whether to prepare a wedding album next.”

Kanata chuckled, propping her chin on Bakugou’s shoulder casually. “I don’t know, Auntie. Should I? It’s a big responsibility dating someone with anger management issues.”

Bakugou turned his head, glaring at her. “Oi, I’m right here.”

Kanata looked at him. "But seriously, if this is your idea of a romantic confession, it sucks.”

She then pat his back like she was consoling him. “But, you know what? Sure. Why not?"

Bakugou froze for a moment, his grip on her tightening slightly before he muttered something under his breath, clearly embarrassed.

She turned to Mitsuki. "Auntie! Congratulations on securing me as your daughter-in-law!”

Mitsuki burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “She’s perfect, Katsuki! You finally found someone who can handle your crap!”

Kanata casually shrugged. “What can I say? I’m built different."

Mitsuki smiled. “Oh, I like you more and more, Kanata. Welcome to the family, kid.”

Bakugou, flustered and annoyed, finally put Kanata down. “Shut up, both of you!”

As Mitsuki finally left them alone, muttering something about wedding preparations, Kanata turned back to Bakugou, her tone suddenly softer but still playful. “So, how’s it feel to be stuck with me?”

Bakugou look away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I already regret it.”

Kanata grinned at him. “Liar, now can we get back to work? We still got a project to finish, boyfriend.”

previously¿

[delusional-through-and-through]

LIBRARY 💥

1. 2. 3.

PROJECT → LIBRARY → WINDOW

Kanata stood in front of the Bakugou household, clutching a paper bag containing Bakugou’s freshly washed and folded jacket. With a deep breath, she pressed the doorbell.

The door opened moments later, but instead of Bakugou, it was Mitsuki who greeted her, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Oh, Kanata! You’re here early.” Mitsuki said with a smile. “Looking for Katsuki, I assume?”

Kanata nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. We’re working on our project again today.”

Mitsuki stepped aside to let her in. “Come on in, dear. He’s in his room, but he’ll come down eventually. You might as well wait in the living room.”

Kanata followed her into the cozy space and took a seat on the sofa. She placed the paper bag with Bakugou’s jacket beside her. “Thank you, Mrs. Bakugou.”

Mitsuki waved her hand as she sat down beside her. “None of that ‘Mrs.’ nonsense. Auntie is fine.” Kanata smiled and nodded, feeling at ease.

Mitsuki studied her for a moment, her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “So, Kanata, how do you put up with my son? He’s not exactly the easiest person to work with.”

Kanata laughed nervously. “Well, he definitely has his.... moments. But honestly, I think he means well—most of the time, anyway.”

Mitsuki smirked, leaning back against the sofa. “You’ve got a good sense of humor, kid. I like that. Speaking of Katsuki, want to see something embarrassing?”

Kanata’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Something embarrassing? Absolutely."

Mitsuki smirked and stood, retrieving a photo album on the shelf behind her and flipped it open, revealing a collection of Bakugou’s childhood pictures. “Here. These are from when he was little. Look at this one, he thought wearing an All Might onesie made him invincible.”

Kanata stifled a laugh. “That was his face even back then? I thought the scowling came with puberty!”

Mitsuki chuckled. “Nope, he’s been like that forever. Now, look at this one, he was about three here, trying to make an ‘explosion’ with his toy fireworks.”

Kanata squinted at the photo. “Why does it look like he’s yelling at the toys for not working fast enough?”

“He was! The brat had zero patience, even as a kid.” Mitsuki replied, laughing hard.

“Oh, and this one” Mitsuki said, turning the page. It showed a muddy Bakugou holding a frog with an uncharacteristically bright grin.

Kanata burst out laughing. “He looks like a little gremlin here!”

“That’s exactly what I called him!” Mitsuki laughed, her voice loud and unabashed.

The two continued to laugh and poke fun at the pictures when a voice interrupted them.

“The hell are you two laughing at?”

Kanata and Mitsuki froze, looking up to see Bakugou standing in the doorway, fresh out of the shower, his hair damp and sticking out in all directions a towel sitting on his shoulders.

He was wearing a black skull printed T-shirt and sweatpants, his scowl fierce as ever.

“Oh, Katsuki!” Mitsuki said with a wide grin, holding up the album. “We were just looking at your childhood pictures. Kanata thinks you were cute.”

Kanata, still laughing, greeted him. “Hey there, Katsuki. Nice onesie, by the way.”

Bakugou’s face turned red out of anger. “PUT THAT DAMN THING AWAY!” he roared, stomping toward them.

Bakugou snatched the album from his mother, snapping it shut. “I’m gonna blow this thing to hell.” he growled, storming toward the stairs. “And you!” He pointed at Kanata. “Get to work already! You’re wasting time!”

Kanata chuckled, grabbing the paper bag. “Sure, sure. Lead the way, oh fearless partner.”

As Bakugou stomped back to his room, Mitsuki and Kanata exchanged a conspiratorial grin. “Come by any time, Kanata, I'll show you more of his pictures, I've got a spare album just in case he blows up one.” Mitsuki said, laughing.

“I definitely will, thanks Auntie” Kanata replied laughing too, then followed her still-fuming partner up the stairs.

............

When Kanata entered Bakugou’s room, she found him already seated in front of his laptop, typing furiously. His brows were furrowed in concentration, but he paused briefly when she placed the paper bag on his desk.

“Here,” Kanata said casually, “Your jacket. It’s squeaky clean, just like you demanded.”

Bakugou snorted, grabbing the bag without looking at her. “Good. Would’ve blasted you if you brought it back dirty.”

Kanata rolled her eyes as she took a seat and pulled out her notebook. They resumed their research, skimming over articles and news archives. After a while, Bakugou grunted, breaking the silence.

“We’re gonna need some references from actual books.” he said, scrolling through a page on his laptop. “Not all of his information is online.”

Kanata raised an eyebrow. “So… we’re going to the library?”

“Tch. No choice” he replied with a scowl. “Pack your stuff. Let’s go.”

Kanata sighed, shoving her notes and laptop into her bag. They headed downstairs together, where Mitsuki was waiting in the living room.

“Heading out?” Mitsuki asked, glancing up from her magazine. “Be careful you two, enjoy your date!”

“It’s not a date, old hag!” Bakugou snapped, his voice rising as he glared at his mother. “Stop saying crap like that!”

Mitsuki smirked, entirely unfazed. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” She turned to Kanata, her expression softening. “Kanata, dear, take care of my hotheaded brat for me, will you?”

Kanata grinned. “I’ll do my best, Auntie."

As they stepped outside, Bakugou grumbled under his breath before turning to Kanata. “Since when did you and that old hag get so close?”

Kanata gave him a cheeky smile. “From the moment I stepped into your house.”

Bakugou sneered at her. “That was just yesterday, dumbass.”

Kanata shrugged. “And yet, here we are. Not my fault your mom took a liking to me. Guess I’m just charming and adorable like that.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Tch. Whatever. Just hurry up.”

............

The two of them started walking towards the station, their goal is the bustling city where the National Library stood.

When Kanata and Bakugou reached the station, they immediately noticed the unusual crowd. The platform was bustling with people, a mix of commuters and weekend travelers.

“Ugh, what the hell’s with this crowd?” Bakugou muttered, glaring at the sea of people.

Kanata sighed. “Looks like everyone decided to go out today. Just our luck.”

When the train arrived, the two boarded, only to find themselves packed in with the other passengers, squeezed tightly like sardines in a can.

Kanata stood beside Bakugou, gripping a strap for balance. She was wearing a pair of shorts paired with a white sweater, and the overcrowded space made her aware of how little room there was to move.

Suddenly, Kanata flinched. A man's hand had brushed against her leg, lingering just a little too long to be accidental. Anger bubbled up within her, but before she could react, Bakugou had already noticed.

His face darkened, and without a word, he grabbed Kanata by the arm and pulled her in front of him. Now, she was tucked safely between Bakugou and the wall of the train.

His crimson eyes lock onto the offender, his anger palpable. "Fucking perverted bastard." he spits, his tone dripping with disdain.

The man, intimidated by Bakugou's fierce demeanor, retreats into the crowd, avoiding further confrontation.

Kanata looked up at Bakugou, a mix of gratitude and surprise in her expression. “Thanks.” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the noise of the train.

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, his attention still scanning the crowd for any other threats. “Just stay there.”

Kanata, attempting to lighten the mood, smirks playfully. “Not gonna lecture me about my choice of clothes?”

Bakugou huffed, his eyes briefly flicking down to her shorts before meeting her gaze again. “Your clothes aren’t the problem.” he said gruffly. “It’s the perverts with broken brains that need fixing.”

Kanata couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension of the moment dissolving slightly. “Who knew you could be such a gentleman?” she teased, her tone light and playful.

“Shut up,” he muttered, but his ears turned slightly pink.

Kanata chuckled and leaned slightly against the wall as the train continued its journey. Despite the cramped conditions, the two spent the rest of the ride in that position, with Bakugo acting as a barrier between her and the rest of the crowd.

............

The train screeched to a halt, and the doors slid open to chaos. Passengers pushed and jostled their way out, the crowd surging like a river breaking through a dam.

Kanata is about to take a step, but Bakugou reached out, grabbing her hand firmly.

“Don’t be dumb,” he grumbled, keeping a firm hold. “You’ll probably get lost in this damn crowd.”

Kanata blinked at him, flustered, but didn’t argue. They exited the train still hand in hand, and though Kanata's lips twitched with amusement, she chose not to comment—yet.

Once outside, the noise subsided, replaced by the quieter hum of city life as they walked toward the National Library.

When they reached the grand entrance, Kanata paused, turning to him with grinning. “Hey, remember, no shouting inside. It’s a library, not your personal battleground, so you better keep that temper of yours in check.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She wasn’t done, though. Her grin widened. “Oh, and I see that you’re still holding my hand. Enjoying yourself, Bakugou?”

He glanced down at their intertwined hands, his brows furrowing slightly. But instead of letting go, he tightened his grip, his expression unreadable. “Shut up” he muttered before tugging her forward, pulling her into the library with him.

Once they found a quiet corner and settled into their seats, Bakugou finally released her hand. Kanata chuckled softly but didn’t press further. They unpacked their things, diving into their purpose for the visit, finding books featuring All Might.

As Bakugou scanned the shelves with sharp focus, Kanata stole a glance at him, her grin softening. Despite his rough edges, moments like these revealed a side of him she couldn’t help but appreciate.

..........

When Bakugou returned home from the library, he stepped through the door quietly. Mitsuki greeted him from the living room.

“Oh, you’re back!” she called out, grinning mischievously. “So, did you enjoy your little date today?”

Bakugou froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t a damn date.” he murmured, clicking his tongue stomping past her.

Mitsuki smirked knowingly, watching him retreat to his room. She didn’t miss the faint blush on his ears and nape. Once his door slammed shut, she chuckled to herself.

“Yeah, sure, it wasn’t a date.” she muttered with a wide grin. “But you definitely enjoyed it, didn’t you, brat?”

She didn’t need him to say it out loud. The way he acted, the little things, Mitsuki could tell. Her son had a way of hiding his feelings behind that rough exterior, but she wasn’t fooled.

previously¿

next?

[delusional-through-and-through]

PROJECT 💥

1. 2. 3.

PROJECT → LIBRARY → WINDOW

It was another day in U.A. High School, and Class 2-A was seated in their usual spots, listening to their homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta, also known as Eraserhead, his ever-present sleeping bag draped over his shoulder. His bored expression hadn’t changed, but his voice carried authority as he addressed the class.

"I have an assignment for you," his monotone voice carrying over the classroom.“As your final project for this semester, you will create a Research on a hero who has made a significant impact on society. This will include their contributions, the challenges they faced, and the lessons they’ve left behind."

The announcement sparked immediate chatter among the students. Midoriya's hand shot up, ready to ask a dozen questions, while Kirishima leaned over to whisper something to Kaminari, who is grumbling about the said project.

The sound of their voices filled the air until Aizawa's cold glare froze them in their seats.

“I’m not finished,” he said flatly, his tone sharp enough to cut through steel. The room fell silent, and the students straightened in their chairs.

"You’ll also be working in pairs." Aizawa continued. “And before anyone asks, your partner will be whoever is sitting next to you. No switching."

Kanata felt her stomach drop. She slowly turned her head to her left.

There she saw none other than Bakugou Katsuki, the ever so histeric guy of their class. His arms were crossed, and his crimson eyes were filled with their usual fiery determination.

The explosive blonde leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and a scowl plastered on his face. He noticed her glance and sneered. "What’re you looking at, Braids?"

Braids is the nickname Bakugou gave her when they were in their first year, because she always styles her long hair into Dutch braids.

Kanata groaned inwardly, burying her face in her hands. “Why can’t I catch a break?” she mumbled to herself.

“You will draw lots to determine which hero you’ll study. Come forward when called." Aizawa announced.

When it was Bakugou and Kanata’s turn to draw lots, Bakugo practically snatched the slip from the box.

He opened it and smirked. "All Might," he announced, his tone filled with satisfaction.

Kanata let out a sigh of relief. "At least it's All Might. There's so much material on him, books, news articles, even documentaries. This might actually be manageable."

Bakugou turned to her with a raised brow. “Oi. Don’t get too comfortable, idiot. We’re not slacking off just ‘cause it’s easy.”

Kanata rolled her eyes but decided to keep her comment to herself. “Fine. But can we agree not to argue the whole time? I’d rather not spend my time with a headache.”

Bakugou leaned back in his chair and snorted. “Tch. Don’t give me a reason to argue, and we won’t have a problem.”

...........

The bell rang signaling the end of class, the students of 2-A began packing up their things. The chatter of her friends making weekend plans filled the air.

Kanata was still sitting when a shadow loomed over her desk. She looked up to see Bakugou standing there, his arms crossed and his usual scowl firmly in place.

“Oi, Braids." he began, his voice sharp and impatient. “We’re gonna start tomorrow. At my place.”

Kanata blinked, surprised by the abruptness. “Uh… your place?”

“Yeah, my place,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Since it’s the weekend, we’re not stuck in the dorms. Meet me at the station at 8 a.m. sharp. Got it?”

Kanata opened her mouth to respond, but Bakugou cut her off. “And don’t even think about being late,” he added, his crimson eyes narrowing dangerously. “If you’re not there on time, I’ll drag your sorry ass to my house myself and blow you into pieces.”

She sighed, already feeling the pressure. “Fine, I’ll be there,” she said, trying to sound as motivated as possible.

“Good,” he said, smirking slightly before turning to leave. “Don’t screw it up, Braids.”

As Bakugou stomped away, Kanata rested her head on her palm, groaning softly. “Great. Just great,” she muttered. “Not only do I have to deal with him this weekend, but now I have to deal with him in his natural habitat.”

............

As Kanata walked down the hallway, she couldn’t help but recall the time she and Bakugou were paired together, during the start of the semester.

It was a disaster.

They’d been assigned to create a tactical plan for an urban rescue. Bakugou, still recovering from the injuries he sustained during the war, was already on edge.

His frustration with his limited physical ability boiled over one evening, when Kanata questioned one of his decisions, he completely lost it.

The next thing she knew, an explosion had ripped through part of the dorm kitchen.

While no one was hurt, the cleanup took hours, and Aizawa gave them both a stern warning about their “team dynamics.”

As she reached the dorm common area, Kirishima approached her with his usual cheerful grin.

“Hey, Kanata!” he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You’re paired with Bakugou again. You’ve got this! Just… uh… try not to make him blow anything up this time, yeah?”

Kanata groaned and gave him a thumbs up.

..........

Kanata arrived at the station just as the clock struck 8 a.m. She spotted Bakugou immediately.

He was leaning against the wall near the entrance, arms crossed, and an annoyed scowl already plastered on his face.

“You’re late, Braids” he snapped as soon as she approached.

Kanata frowned, glancing at her phone. “No, I’m not. It’s exactly 8 a.m. Check the time if you don’t believe me.”

“Tch. If you’re not here five minutes early, you’re late.” he retorted, pushing off the wall and walked toward the train without waiting for her.

Kanata huffed but followed him, muttering under her breath, “He’s impossible.”

The train ride was mostly silent, save for the faint sound of Bakugou tapping his fingers impatiently on his knees. Kanata stole a few glances at him, wondering what his home would be like.

She had only ever seen glimpses of his personal side at the dorms, and even then, he mostly kept to himself.

.............

When they finally arrived, Kanata found herself standing in front of a neat, well-maintained house. She blinked in surprise. “This is your place?”

Bakugou turned to her with a raised brow. “Yeah. What, you expect a dump or somethin’?”

“No" she said, then give him a teasing glance, “But it does gives off major nepo baby vibes. Only child, huh? Bet your parents spoils you rotten.”

Bakugou’s eye twitched, his glare intensifying. “You wanna get blown up?”

Kanata laughed, raising her hands in a mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying!”

He didn’t respond, instead he grabbed her arms and drag her. “Shut up and move. We’ve got work to do.”

“You know,” she said, trying to keep up with his brisk pace, “you’re really bad at interacting with girls. Like, seriously bad. How the hell do you even have a fan club at school?”

Bakugou froze mid-step, his grip on her arms tightening slightly as he turned to glare at her. His face flushed faintly, though whether from irritation or embarrassment, Kanata couldn’t tell.

“I didn’t ask for those extras to follow me around like idiots. You think I’ve got time to care about stupid fangirls?” he barked, his voice loud as usual.

“The first years were always gossiping about your ‘cool, bad-boy aura.’ But seriously, with the way you act? It’s a miracle they still like you.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou cut her off, dragging her l again. He unlocked the door with a sharp twist. “Get inside before I leave you out here.”

Kanata chuckled at his threats. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Geez, sensitive much?”

“Damn right I’m sensitive when people talk nonsense!” Bakugou said, stepping further into the house.

...........

Bakugou led Kanata into the living room, muttering under his breath about her unnecessary talking.

Kanata took a seat on the sofa, glancing around the neatly decorated space. It was surprisingly cozy, with framed photos and small trinkets lining the shelves.

Before she could comment, a loud, confident voice echoed from the kitchen. “Katsuki! Is that you?!”

Bakugou Mitsuki appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her resemblance to Bakugou was unmistakable, though her warm smile was far from her son’s usual scowl.

Her sharp eyes flicked over to Kanata and a sly smile spread across her face. “Well, well, what’s this? Did my little Katsuki finally bring home a girlfriend?”

“WHAT THE HELL, OLD HAG?!” Bakugou exploded. “SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!”

“CRAZY?!” Mitsuki snapped back, her hands on her hips. “IS THAT ANY WAY TO TALK TO YOUR MOTHER, YOU LITTLE BRAT?”

Kanata blinked, caught in the crossfire as the two began shouting at each other.

“I BRING A CLASSMATE HOME TO WORK ON A PROJECT, AND YOU START WITH THIS CRAP?!” Bakugou shouted, his hands twitching as if he were holding back from letting off an explosion.

“WELL, EXCUSE ME FOR BEING CURIOUS! YOU’VE NEVER BROUGHT A GIRL HOME BEFORE!” Mitsuki shot back, rolling her eyes.

Kanata watched the spectacle with a mix of amusement and secondhand embarrassment until a calmer, quieter presence entered the room.

“Now, now, you two,” Bakugou Masaru said, stepping in with a nervous smile. “We have a guest. Let’s not scare her off, okay?”

Kanata stood up, bowing slightly. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Kanata, I’m in the same class as Katsuki. We’re partnered for a project, so that’s why I’m here.”

Mitsuki grinned at Kanata. “Ah, nice to meet you, dear! I’m Mitsuki, Katsuki’s mom. Has my son been causing trouble at school?”

Kanata glanced at Bakugou, who was glaring daggers at her. “Oh, he sure does. A lot actually.”

Bakugou groaned. “Oi—”

Ignoring him, Kanata continued, “Like, back when we were first year, he blew up a senior who was playing a villain during a training simulation. Poor guy wasn’t even ready for it.”

“He deserved it for going easy on me, damn him!” Bakugou barked, arms crossed defensively.

“And that’s not all” Kanata added “he also tried to blow up his first-year fan club.”

“Idiots wouldn’t leave me alone!”

“Oh, and there was the time when our class were playing that card game called U.A. Heroes Battle, he got pissed and blew up part of the dorm.” Kanata said with a laugh. “Aizawa-sensei had to ban us from playing card games because of him.”

Mitsuki burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “That sounds exactly like him! I knew he’d be a handful at school too!”

Bakugou groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! YOU’RE JUST MAKING CRAP UP NOW!”

Kanata raised her hands innocently. “I swear I’m not. Ask anyone in our class.”

Masaru chuckled nervously. “Well, it’s good to know that you’re passionate, Katsuki.”

“Passionate my ass,” Mitsuki muttered before clapping her hands. “Alright, enough stalling. You two have a project to work on, don’t you? Go on and get to it.”

Kanata grinned as Bakugou stormed past her toward the stairs, muttering a string of curses. She followed him, still chuckling softly. “Your family’s great, by the way.”

“Shut it,” Bakugou snapped, stomping up the stairs.

...........

Bakugou’s room was surprisingly neat, with shelves lined with books, figurines, and a few All Might posters that Kanata couldn’t help but smile at.

“Focus on the articles about his rise as a hero,” Bakugou muttered, scrolling through a news archive on his laptop.

Kanata leaned over to read. “Wait, don’t skip that one! It talks about his time before becoming the Symbol of Peace.”

“Tch. I know what I’m doing, idiot,” Bakugou snapped, though he didn’t scroll past the article.

“You say that, but half the time you’re yelling instead of working,” Kanata said, jotting notes in her notebook.

“Because you keep distracting me with your dumb questions!”

“Oh, please,” Kanata said, rolling her eyes. “At least I’m trying to keep this organized. Remember earlier? You almost deleted our entire draft because you clicked the wrong button.”

“Shut up before I throw you out the window,” Bakugou growled, though a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

Before the argument could escalate further, Mitsuki popped her head into the room, holding a tray of snacks. “Here you go, kids! Don’t work yourselves too hard.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Bakugou,” Kanata said cheerfully, grabbing a cookie.

“Oi, don’t hog them!” Bakugou growled, snatching one for himself.

Mitsuki grinned. “You’re welcome, Kanata. Don’t let him boss you around too much.”

"I won't." Kanata replied, smiling. Mitsuki winked at her before leaving.

By the time the sun began dipping below the horizon, they called it a day. Kanata stretched and yawned as they descended to the living room, where she bid farewell to Bakugou’s parents.

“Thank you so much for having me! The snacks were delicious.”

Mitsuki waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. You’re welcome here anytime, dear.”

As Kanata slipped on her shoes, Mitsuki turned to her son. “Katsuki, walk her to the station. It’s getting dark, and it’s dangerous for a girl to walk alone.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Tch. If anyone dangerous shows up, they’ll run away from her instead. She’s more of a threat than than they are.”

Kanata gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

“Enough of your whining,” Mitsuki snapped. “Walk her. Now.”

“Fine,” Bakugou muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

As they walked toward the station, the sky darkened, and a chilly breeze picked up.

Kanata hugged herself, shivering slightly, she looks at Bakugou. “Aren’t you gonna offer me your jacket or something? Isn’t that what guys do in movies?”

Bakugou shot her a blank stare. “Why the hell would I do that? I’m not a walking cliché.”

Kanata pouted, faking disappointment. “Wow, no chivalry at all. Figures.”

Bakugou groaned, muttering something under his breath before yanking off his jacket. He tossed it at her face with more force than necessary. “Here. But you better give it back tomorrow. Squeaky clean.”

Kanata laughed, taking the jacket off her face and putting it on. “Thanks, Bakugou. You’re a real gentleman.”

“Keep talking, and I’ll take it back,” he warned, though his tone lacked any real threat.

When they reached the station, Kanata turned to him with a small smile. “Thanks for walking me, and for the jacket."

Bakugou's nodded, his usual scowl softening just slightly. “Tomorrow at my house. 8 a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

Kanata gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir. See you tomorrow!”

As she waved goodbye and headed for her train, Bakugou stood there for a moment, watching her leave.

He turned and began walking back home with a rare smile present on his face, muttering to himself. “Damn annoying.”

Next?

[delusional-through-and-through]

WALK 🥀

The sun hovered high over the town of Asakusa, casting warm light across its bustling streets. Yoru, clad in her usual attire and her sunglasses, trailed beside Captain Shinmon Benimaru.

Though her posture was relaxed, her sharp eyes scanned the streets, curious about her new surroundings.

“This place is livelier than I expected,” Yoru remarked, pulling her cigarette from her lips and exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “I thought it’d be quieter.”

“Quieter?” Benimaru scoffed, hands tucked loosely into his haori. “This is Asakusa. It’s never quiet, especially not this time of day. You’re lucky it’s not a festival or else you’d be drowning in noise.”

"Noted. Anyway, where’s a good place to grab souvenirs? I want to get something for the Company 8 members.” she said while looking at the stalls.

Benimaru side-eyed her. “Didn’t peg you as the cute souvenirs type.”

“Who said I’m getting anything cute? Maybe I’ll bring back a bag of rice or something. Practical. Functional.”

Benimaru chuckled. “Sure, that’ll make you real popular. Come on, follow me. I know a few shops.”

Yoru was about to respond when a group of middle-aged women burst out of a nearby kimono shop, their eyes lighting up as they spotted her.

“Oh, my, look at her!” one of them exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Such striking features! You'll look stunning in a kimono dear.”

Before Yoru could protest, they surrounded her, dragging her toward the shop.

“Wait—hold on—what the hell?!” Yoru shouted, her sunglasses falling abit as she was shoved inside. She shot a helpless look at Benimaru, who stood outside with his arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smirk.

“You're on your own” he called out lazily. “I’ll wait here.”

............

It didn’t take long for the women to dress Yoru in a sleek, dark blue kimono that make her platinum blonde hair pop and brought out the violet undertones in her eyes.

“Damn it, I feel like a doll. I can’t breathe in this thing,” she muttered as she's stepping out of the shop, adjusting the hem of her kimono.

When she finally emerged, her platinum blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her striking bluish-violet eyes were free from the cover of her sunglasses.

Benimaru tilted his head, studying her from head to toe. “Well, I’ll give it to them. They weren’t wrong—you do look good in a kimono.”

"Well, I better be, since they literally wrestled me in to this thing" Spreading her arms she asked. “Do I pass as an Asakusa local now?”

Benimaru gave a lazy shrug. “You’ll turn a few heads, that’s for sure.”

Slipping her hands into her sleeves, she said “Good, now let’s keep moving before they try to slap makeup on me.”

..............

As they resumed strolling to buy souvenirs, Yoru indeed drew a lot of attention from passersby. Suddenly, a high-pitched voice broke through the crowd.

“BENI-CHAN~”

Benimaru froze, a vein twitching in his forehead. Yoru turned to see a large, flamboyant man rushing toward them, tears streaming down his face.

“Beni-chan, how could you?” the man wailed. “Are you cheating on me with her?”

Yoru bit her lip to suppress a laugh. The situation was too absurd. The man, towering and muscular, was bawling like a child.

“Oi,” Benimaru groaned, rubbing his temples. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“But Beni-chan!” the man cried. “You’re walking around with this…. this gorgeous woman! How could you?”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a chuckle. “Relax, big guy. I’m not stealing your boyfriend.”

Benimaru shot her a sideways glare, but she simply grinned, lighting another cigarette.

The man sniffled, glaring at Yoru with a pout. “She’s prettier than me…”

Yoru raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Thanks, I guess?”

Before things could escalate, Benimaru grabbed Yoru's arm and dragged her away, leaving the man sobbing in the middle of the street.

“So...Beni-chan huh?, you’ve got some interesting fans,” She tease him as they walked.

“Don’t start,” Benimaru muttered, his face a mix of irritation and resignation.

................

After they were done buying souvenirs, the sun had already begun to dip below the horizon.

"You look dumb...and downright suspicious." Benimaru suddenly commented.

She looked at him confused, then her attention turned to the full body sized mirror behind him.

There she saw herself, still dress in the kimono but now wearing her sunglasses.

She chuckled. "I look very cool. Thank you very much."

Benimaru shook his head at her antics and led her to a gambling hall tucked away in a quieter part of town.

“This is where the real fun happens,” he said, gesturing to the lively room filled with card tables and dice games.

“Gambling, huh? I really do look suspicious now." Yoru muttered as she surveyed the area.

“Yo, Beni-chan, here again, eh?” a man greeted Benimaru.

“So, who’s the young lady? Your lover?” the man whispered with a knowing grin.

Benimaru gave him a blank stare. “Piss off.” Then he walks towards her.

“Didn’t take you as the type who likes gambling.” Yoru remarked after observing the lively scene.

Benimaru smirked. “Just watch and learn.”

Benimaru sat at a table, quickly diving into a game of dice. Yoru observed, her sharp eyes catching the patterns of the game.

“You know this isn’t setting a good example for the Fire Force, right?” she joked.

“It’s better than whatever bad habits you’re hiding,” he shot back, placing another bet.

After watching a few rounds, Yoru decided to join in, surprising everyone by winning several rounds in a row.

“Not bad for a first-timer.” Benimaru admitted grudgingly.

“Looks like I’m better at this than you.” she teased. “What do you think Captain Obi will say if he hears about this?”

Benimaru gave her a sidelong glance. “You gonna start moralizing now?” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“Hell no” she said with a laugh, gathering her winnings.

.........

By the time they left the gambling hall , the streets of Asakusa is already bathed in the warm glow of lanterns. Yoru carried a bag of food she’d bought while they are walking side by side.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” she said, taking a drag from her cigarette.

Benimaru smirked. “You’re still tagging along.”

Yoru chuckled, shaking her head. “Fair enough. Thanks, tour guide.”

............

They returned to Company 7’s quarters, where the three younger members of Company 8 were sprawled out, still recovering from the intense training they suffered yesterday.

“You two have fun?” Shinra asked them groggily.

Yoru put the bag of food onto the table. “Brought dinner. You can thank me later.”

As the group dug into the food, Yoru leaned back, glancing at Benimaru. Despite the chaos of the day, she had to admit it had been… entertaining.

And as for Benimaru? He couldn’t help but think the same about her.

[delusional-through-and-through]

HANDMADE 💥

It was nearly Christmas, and Class 1A dorm were buzzing with excitement. The class decided to host a Christmas party, complete with a exchange gift event. The rule was simple, draw a name and keep it a secret until the party.

Akira sighed deeply as she looked at the name she had drawn.

“Of course, it’s you,” she muttered, glaring at the name 'Bakugou Katsuki' .

The girls noticed her expression. “Hey, Akira, you good?” Mina asked, bouncing up to her.

“Yeah, fine,” Akira replied, stuffing the paper in her pocket.

“Wanna come shopping with us next week? We’re getting gifts,” Jirou offered.

“Sure,” Akira said with a shrug. She figured she might as well find something fitting for the exploding guy.

...........

A week later, the girls found their selves on the mall shopping for their gifts. As they browsed the stores, the girls chatted about their gift ideas.

“I think I’ll get some accessories,” Yaoyorozu said.

“I’m going for something fun, maybe snacks,” Mina added. “What about you, Akira?”

Akira smirked. “I’m gonna go with a plushie.”

“A plushie?” Ochaco asked, curious.

“Yeah, I’ll make a handmade plushie. Oh, and I’m throwing in some recorders too". She said holding up the recorder she just bought.

“The person I’m giving it to is gonna love it.” Her sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, but the girls just giggled, assuming it was her way of showing care.

..........

After a good night's sleep, she began crafting the plushie with utmost concentration. The winter break gave her plenty of time to perfect it. Once it was done, she installed a recorder inside and loaded it with a snippet of a song.

“Perfect,” she muttered, smirking at her creation.

...........

Finally, Christmas arrived. The dorm were decorated in Christmas decors all over, and all the students were dressed in Santa costumes.

Akira helped prepare the food, skillfully dodging Mineta's attempts to sneak snacks and perverted attacks.

When the time came for the gift exchange, everyone gathered around the tree. It was Akira’s turn to reveal who she had drawn.

She stood up, holding a neatly wrapped box. “Alright, I got Bakugou,” she announced.

Akira handed him the gift, smirking. “Merry Christmas”

The room collectively “oohed” and turned to Bakugou, who rolled his eyes. “Tch, this better not be stupid.”

He tore open the wrapping, revealing an angry pomeranian plushie in his hero costume. The plushie's expression almost a mirror of his own.

Bakugou's eye twitched as the class burst into laughter.

“YOU MADE ME A DAMN DOG?!” Bakugou growled, his voice rising.

He clenched the plushie tightly, activating the recorder, then the plushie began to sing in a tinny but loud voice.

“I’M T.N.T., I’M DYNAMITE!

T.N.T., AND I’LL WIN THE FIGHT!

T.N.T., I’M A POWER LOAD!

T.N.T., WATCH ME EXPLODE!”

The class burst out laughing again, with Kirishima and Kaminari holding their stomach and Mina smacking the table. Even Todoroki cracked a smile.

"That’s perfect!" Kaminari said enjoying the show.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, EXTRA?!” Bakugou yelled, his face bright red clearly from annoyance.

His grip on the plushie tightened more as he shouted, “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, HUH?!”

“Hilarious, actually. You’re welcome.” She crossed her arms, grinning. “What?You don’t like it? I thought it suited you.”

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

“Relax, it’s Christmas. Besides, it’s handmade. You should be grateful.”

The class laughed harder as Bakugou glared at her, his face a mix of annoyance and reluctant appreciation.

Finally, after the teasing died down, Bakugou muttered, “Tch. Thanks, I guess.”

“Wow, you actually said thank you. Guess it’s a Christmas miracle.” Akira said dramatically wiping away her non-existent tears.

“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, turning away, but he didn’t throw the plushie. Instead, he tucked it under his arm, grumbling as the next person took their turn.

..............

The party continued in full swing after the gift exchange, with blasting music and everyone enjoying the food and little activities.

Akira found herself leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of hot cocoa, watching the chaos from a distance.

“Oi,” a familiar gruff voice called out.

She turned her head to see Bakugou standing there, the angry pomeranian plushie still tucked under his arm. His face was as stormy as ever, but there was an almost unnoticeable awkwardness to his posture.

“What’s up, Kacchan?” Akira asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

He clicked his tongue. “You really thought that thing was funny, huh?”

Akira chuckled, setting her cup down. “I mean, yeah. The whole class thought so too. Admit it, it’s the perfect gift for you.”

She pointed at the plushie. “That little guy? He’s you in every way.”

“It’s not me,” Bakugou snapped, though his grip on the plushie tightened slightly. “You’re just an idiot with too much free time.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Akira teased, leaning closer with a grin. “You like it, don’t you? I caught you carrying it around. Pretty sure you’ve already named it.”

“What?!” Bakugou glared at her. “Why the hell would I name some stupid plushie?”

“I dunno,” Akira said, crossing her arms and pretending to think. “Hmm....maybe something like… Mini-Me? Or Boomie? Oh! What about Pomsplosion?”

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou barked, his voice cracking slightly as he turned away.

Akira couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, so you do like it!”

“I don’t like it!” Bakugou growled, but he didn’t let go of the plushie, which only made Akira laugh harder.

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now.”

He glanced at her, his scowl softening for just a second. “Tch. Whatever. Just don’t expect me to do somethin’ like this for you next year.”

“Noted,” Akira said, her smirk turning into a genuine smile. “But hey, I’m glad you didn’t throw it out or set it on fire. That’s basically a compliment coming from you.”

“Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, turning on his heel.

As he walked off, Akira called after him, “Merry Christmas, Bakugou!”

He raised a hand in response but didn’t look back. The faint redness in his ears didn’t go unnoticed by Akira, who couldn’t help but grin.

“Well, that went better than expected,” she murmured to herself, sipping her cocoa.

[delusional-through-and-through]

Fire Force 🥀

(All of these are Benimuru's fic, because apparently, he lives rent-free in my head.)

• HER

• UNEXPECTED

• SPARKS?

• WALK

My Hero Academia 💥

(While these are all Bakugou's fic, they're neighbors.)

• EXCHANGE

• HANDMADE

• PROJECT

• LIBRARY

• WINDOW

KAIJU NO. 8 🎮

(These are narumi's fic, he's the raccoon who crawled his way in)

• WHY NOT PINK

• BRING ME

• LATE NIGHT

• A SIP

[delusional-through-and-through]

SPARKS? 🥀

previously?

⚠️

Yoru sat back against the floor of the rooftop of the 7th Company’s guardhouse, watching the town, the glow of Asakusa’s lanterns casting a warm light over her face.

She took a slow drag from her cigarette, flicking the ash away with practiced ease, and glanced over at Benimaru, who sat cross-legged beside her sipping his tea, looking as relaxed as ever.

He had just finished calming the twins down for the night, it was the end of second day of their arrival.

"Still can’t believe those brats came from us," Yoru said, breaking the quiet as she tapped ash into a tray. “How’d we even get married in the future? Can you imagine us, of all people, being tied down?”

Benimaru snorted softly, his eyes fixed on the street below. “ You’re loud, bossy, and curse too much. Not exactly my type.”

Yoru smirked, brushing a stray strand of her platinum blonde hair away from her face. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Broody-and-silent. You’re not my type either, so what gives?”

Benimaru shrugged, his usual nonchalance intact. “Guess we both just got desperate. Or maybe you forced me into it.”

She laughed, the sound low and throaty. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Maybe I blackmailed you or something.”

There was a moment of silence as they both stared out at the quiet town, the cool night air settling around them. Yoru tilted her head, her glasses catching the light.

“Hey, Captain,” she said suddenly, her tone casual.

“What?” he replied without looking at her.

“Wanna kiss?”

He stared at her, unsure if she was joking or just plain crazy. “You serious?”

She shrugged, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world. “You know, just to see if there’s a spark or whatever. Might explain how we ended up with those kids.”

Benimaru let out a low sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re insane.”

“And yet you’re still sitting there,” she countered, leaning in slightly. “C’mon, Captain. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and challenging. “Fine. But don’t blame me if it doesn’t live up to your imagination.”

Yoru smiled as she leaned closer, their faces just inches apart. Her voice dropped into a playful whisper. “Oh, I won’t.”

Without further ado, Yoru leaned in, giving him a quick testing peck that left neither of them impressed. They pulled back, both staring at each other blankly.

“Well?” Yoru asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Felt like kissing a wall,” Benimaru muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Rude, but same,” she replied. “Maybe we’re doing it wrong. One more try?”

Yoru leaned again, but this time the kiss was different. Their lips moved slowly, testing the waters, and the hesitant pressure deepened as they grew more comfortable.

Benimaru break the kiss for a moment. "This thing is on the way" he said as he yank the glasses out of her face, then tilt his head to go for a deeper kiss.

Yoru’s hands found their way to Benimaru’s shoulders, her fingers brushing the fabric of his haori. At some point, Yoru found herself straddling his lap, her body and lips pressed firmly against his.

His hand came up to her waist, steadying her as the kiss became heated. Their mouths opened slightly, and their tongues dance with each other, sucking and lapping as if they were hungry for each other, sending a shiver down to her spine.

Benimaru’s free hand tangled in her platinum blonde hair, pulling her closer, Yoru let out a soft hum against his mouth, while her fingers instinctively found their way into his dark hair.

The kiss grew more intense, a clash of heat and desire that neither of them seemed willing to stop—until Yoru suddenly yanked on his hair, breaking the kiss with a sharp pull.

Benimaru looks up to her, his lips were slightly swollen, his eyes half-lidded with a flicker of something unreadable.

“Let a girl breathe, will you?” Yoru said panting, she grabbed her glasses on the ground and put it back on her face.

He blinked at her, his face neutral despite the slight pink in his ears. “You’re the one who started it.”

“And you didn’t exactly stop it,” she shot back, brushing a hand through her messy hair.

Benimaru smirked, his eyes hooded as he leaned back slightly. “Tastes like cigarettes.”

She rolled her eyes, sliding off his lap and standing. “And yours tastes like sarcasm.”

Dusting herself off, she grabbed her cigarette pack and lit another one, as if nothing had happened. “Well, that was... something. Your thoughts?”

Benimaru leaned his head back against a wall, exhaling slowly. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“Yeah, you want me to grade it or something?” he replied casually, reaching for his tea as though they hadn’t just been devouring each other moments ago.

“Well that wasn’t terrible. Could be why the kids exist.” she said casually.

“Guess so.” Benimaru said, his smirk barely noticeable.

Yoru glanced at him, an amused glint in her eye. “So? Feel anything now?”

He shrugged. “Annoyed.”

She chuckled. “Good. Means we’re still us.”

The conversation shifted seamlessly to the twins. As they converse like nothing had happened, the tension lingered subtly in the air, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

Neither of them said it, but they both knew, the spark wasn’t just hypothetical anymore.

previously¿

[delusional-through-and-through]

EXCHANGE 💥

For a whole month, Akihira Shion and Inasa Yoarashi from Shiketsu High were to stay at UA High School as part of an exchange program.

In return, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure represented Class 1-A at Shiketsu. This program aimed to strengthen bonds between the schools, share unique hero techniques, and challenge students to grow.

...........

Akihira slid open the door, revealing Class 1-A. Aizawa-sensei, ever the composed and really tired-looking teacher, barely glanced up from his sleeping bag as he addressed the class. “Listen up. We’ve got two exchange students from Shiketsu joining us for a while. Behave.”

“HELLO, EVERYONE!” Inasa declared, bowing deeply and dramatically. “I AM YOARASHI INASA!, ALSO KNOWN AS THE GALE FORCE!, I’M HONORED TO BE HERE AT U.A.! I’VE ALWAYS ADMIRED THIS SCHOOL AND ITS STUDENTS, I HOPE WE CAN WORK TOGETHER AND BECOME BETTER HEROES!" as he straightened his body there's blood flowing from his head but he seems not bothered by it.

"TODOROKI! BAKUGOU! LONG TIME NO SEE! LET’S WORK HARD TOGETHER!”

Todoroki gave a polite nod, while Bakugou muttered, “baldy.”

"THAT'S ALL FOR MY INTRODUCTION AND I'M NOT BALD"

“Yoarashi, you’re at UA, not a campaign rally,” akihira said dryly before stepping forward. “I’m Akihira Shion, Class 1-A president at Shiketsu. My quirk allows me to create and manipulate weapons. I can also disintegrate into particles and reassemble at will. Looking forward to spend my time with you guys.”

The class whispered among themselves.

“She’s so cool!” Mina said, her eyes sparkling.

“Another class president! This will be interesting,” Iida muttered, adjusting his glasses.

“Nice to meet you,” Midoriya said, scribbling notes in his hero analysis notebook.

“Take your seats,” Aizawa instructed.

Inasa chose the seat beside Todoroki, whom he already admired, while Akihira sat directly in front of Bakugou.

As the lesson began, Bakugou leaned forward, his intense stare boring into Akihira’s back. “Hey, Shiketsu. Don’t think you can slack off just because you’re from another school.”

Akihira turned slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a smirk. “I won't, so you better not blow a fuse on me, angry pomeranian.”

The class burst into laughter, and Bakugou’s face turned red. “WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

“I said what I said,” Akihira replied, turning back around.

............

The month-long exchange program between Shiketsu and UA had barely started, but it was already shaping up to be an unforgettable experience for both Akihira and Class 1-A.

While Akihira admired the liveliness of the UA students compared to Shiketsu’s rigid atmosphere, there was one person who seemed determined to make her life...entertaining, Bakugou Katsuki.

From the first day she sat in front of him, their interactions had become the highlight—and occasionally, the chaos—of Class 1-A’s daily routine.

.........

Akihira was an early riser, used to Shiketsu’s strict schedule. On her second morning at UA, she entered the common room to find Bakugou in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast with surprising skill.

“You cook?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugou didn’t look up. “What’s it to you, Shiketsu?”

“Just didn’t expect someone with your personality to have culinary skills. You’re full of surprises.”

He glanced at her, scowling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked, leaning against the counter. “Just that you seem more like the ‘blow up the kitchen’ type.”

“Listen, you—”

“GOOD MORNING!” Inasa’s booming voice interrupted them as he entered the room. “WOW, BAKUGOU! THAT SMELLS AMAZING!”

“Shut up and sit down, Baldy.”

" I'M NOT BALD"

Akihira chuckled, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter. “Thanks for breakfast, chef.”

Bakugou’s glare could have set the toast on fire, but he said nothing.

..........

During a training exercise later that week, the students were tasked with capturing a mock villain in a simulated urban environment. Akihira was paired with Bakugou, much to his dismay.

“Why do I have to team up with you?” he grumbled.

“Because Aizawa-sensei said so" she replied smoothly.

They moved through the training grounds, Bakugou blasting through obstacles. When they reached the mock villain—a mechanical construct controlled by the teachers—Bakugou lunged forward with a massive explosion.

“Subtle,” Akihira deadpanned, disintegrating into particles to avoid the shockwave before reforming behind the villain and delivering the finishing blow with a spear she’d created.

“Hey! That was my win!” Bakugou yelled.

“Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

Despite their constant bickering, they managed to complete the exercise with a perfect score.

Later, in the cafeteria, Bakugou growled as Akihira took the last serving of katsudon.

“Hey! That’s mine!” he snapped.

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

“You wanna die?”

“Do you ever say anything original?” she retorted, taking a bite while ignoring his glare.

........

Bakugou and Akihira couldn’t seem to go a day without exchanging sharp words.

One afternoon during a math lesson, Bakugou was particularly irritated by Akihira’s habit of answering questions before him.

“Damn know-it-all,” he muttered under his breath after she solved a problem on the board.

Akihira turned, smirking. “Jealous?”

“Of you? Keep dreaming, Shiketsu!”

“Then stop whining and catch up, UA.”

The class chuckled at their back-and-forth, with Kaminari whispering to Kirishima, “They argue like an old married couple.”

“Do they ever stop fighting?” Jirou asked.

“Fighting? That is flirting,” Kaminari whispered. “Don’t let Bakugou hear you say that,” Kirishima replied, grinning.

..........

One evening, the class decided to host a movie night in the dorms. Akihira joined reluctantly, finding a seat near the back. Bakugou, as expected, sat with his arms crossed, glaring at the screen.

When a particularly cheesy romantic scene played, Akihira leaned over and whispered, “Enjoying yourself, angry pomeranian?”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. “I swear, if you call me that one more time—”

“What? It suits you. Small, loud, and always ready to bite.”

The others overheard and burst into laughter, much to Bakugou’s annoyance.

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

“Shh, Bakugou! Some of us are trying to watch!” Mina scolded playfully.

............

Despite their constant bickering, Akihira and Bakugou occasionally showed glimpses of mutual respect.

During a particularly grueling training session, Akihira noticed Bakugou struggling against a mechanical opponent that had countered his explosions.

Without hesitation, she disintegrated into particles and reassembled beside him, creating a shield to block an incoming attack.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” he snapped, blasting the enemy with renewed force.

"Yeah you didn't, but just a reminder though, free will exist, moron" she retorted, smirking.

Later, as they walked back to the dorms, Bakugou muttered, “You’re not half bad...for a Shiketsu student.”

Akihira raised an eyebrow, her smirk softening. “Was that a compliment, Bakugou?”

“Shut up before I take it back.”

............

As the month drew to a close, the final training exercise involved an all-out battle between Class 1-A students. Akihira and Bakugou ended up on opposing teams.

The battlefield turned into a chaotic spectacle as Akihira wielded a set of dual blades, parrying attacks from Kaminari and Sero before facing off against Bakugou.

“You’re in my way, Shiketsu!” he growled, launching an explosion.

Akihira disintegrated just in time, reforming behind him. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Their fight became the centerpiece of the exercise, each pushing the other to their limits. In the end, Bakugou managed to overpower her with a well-placed explosion, but not before she landed a solid hit with a throwing dagger.

As the exercise ended, Bakugo smirked down at her. “Not bad...for a loser.”

Akihira just laugh at his comment.

..........

When the month ended, Akihira stood before the class, her usual composed demeanor slightly softer.

“Thank you for having me,” she said. “You’ve taught me more than I expected. I’ll admit, I might even miss some of you.”

Bakugou scoffed from the back. “Don’t get all sentimental, Shiketsu.”

She smirked. “Don’t worry, Bakugou. I’ll never forget you...or your cooking.”

The class burst into laughter as Bakugou's ears turned red, yelling, “GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY!”

She chuckled at his reaction and as she turned to leave, Akihira glanced over her shoulder. “See you around, Bakugou. Try not to miss me too much.” she gave him a teasing smile, earning another reaction from the class.

"GET OUT!"

[delusional-through-and-through]

UNEXPECTED 🥀

next?

The Fire Force guardhouse of Company 7 was bustling as usual, but today's commotion wasn’t because of some Infernal outbreak or training gone wrong—it was because of a meeting.

The combined forces of Companies 7 and 8 had gathered for a strategy discussion that so far, progressing . Captain Shinmon Benimaru sat with his trademark scowl plastered across his face, while the ever-so-serious members of both brigades nodded along to Obi’s usual speeches about teamwork.

Then, the unexpected happened.

The door creaked open, and one of Company 7’s brigade members poked his head inside, looking like he’d just stumbled into a bizarre dream.

“Uh, Captain… we’ve got a situation.”

Before Benimaru could grumble out his usual “Deal with it yourself", the brigade member stepped aside, revealing two pint-sized intruders—a pair of five-year-old, a girl and a boy.

The little girl stood meekly behind his brother, clutching the hem of his shirt. The other had his arms crossed, a sour expression plastered on his face that mirrored Benimaru’s scowl so perfectly it might as well have been photocopied.

The room fell silent as the twins marched up to Benimaru.

“Shinmon Benimaru,” the bold one declared, his voice small but firm, “we’re your kids.”

For a full five seconds, nobody moved. Then, like a dam breaking, the room erupted into chaos.

“What the—?!” Maki shrieked, her drink spilling onto the table.

“Wait, does this mean you…?!” Obi tried to say something authoritative but failed miserably.

Arthur, meanwhile, squinted at the twins. “Which one of you is stronger?” he asked, ignoring the bigger picture entirely.

Benimaru’s face twitched as his brain tried to process the absurdity. “You’ve got the wrong guy, brats. I don’t even—wait, Konro! Why the hell are you laughing?!”

Indeed, Konro, Benimaru’s ever-loyal second-in-command, was stifling chuckles behind his hand. “Sorry, Captain,” Konro said, eyes darting between the twins. “But… don’t you think they look a little too much like you? Red eyes, tick-tack-toe marks on them… and that one even got your entire personality.”

“Yeah, but the hair?” Benimaru protested, gesturing to the twins’ platinum blond locks.

“Recessive genes?” Licht offered, unhelpfully.

The scowling one huffed. "Mom had this hair color. She was way cooler than you!”

The little girl looked like she wanted to vanish. “Um....so....this might sound weird, but.... both of us doesn't exist in this timeline....yet, we are actually from the future....and you are Dad. Can you... please help us?"

“Future kids?!” Iris whispered, her hands clasped together in disbelief. "Latom"

Obi, ever the responsible leader, cleared his throat. “Alright, kids. If you’re really from the future, who's your mother?”

At this, both kids brightened momentarily. “Uncle Obi! Our mom is the best!” the shy girl gushed. “She’s so pretty, and cool, and strong—”

“But she's dead" the boy interrupted, and just like that, both kids burst into tears so violently it was like a faucet had been turned on.

“W-Wait, don’t cry!” Maki tried to soothe them, flailing awkwardly.

As everyone panicked over the sobbing children, the door opened again, and in walked Izanami Yoru, the 8th Company’s doctor.

Cigarette in hand, her platinum blonde hair fluttering as she strolled into the chaos, completely unbothered. “What’s all the racket? You’re supposed to be having a meeting.”

“Yoru!” Obi said, relieved. “Perfect timing—”

Before anyone could explain, the twins let out a gasps and launched themselves at Yoru, and tackled her to the ground, sobbing into her lab coat.

"FUCK!"

“MOM!”

“MAMA!”

Yoru froze, her cigarette dangling from her lips. “...Huh?”

“Mama, we missed you so much!” the shy girl wailed.

“You’re alive! And younger! But you’re still smoking, dammit!” The boy yelled through his tears.

Flat on her back, Yoru blinked up at the ceiling. “Mom?.... Me?..... Wait, I haven’t done the deed yet! Hell, I don't even have a boyfriend!”

The room erupted into laughter. Shinra flashing his shark like grin, Tamaki was wheezing, and Arthur was convinced this was somehow related to a knightly prophecy.

Benimaru muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First, I’ve got kids I didn’t ask for. Now, they’re clinging to her?”

........

Finally, with the twins still stuck to her, Yoru sat up and gave everyone her trademark deadpan stare. “Alright, what’s going on?”

Konro crouched beside her, looking almost sympathetic. “We were just about to figure that out. But, uh… congrats, Yoru. Seems like you’ve got two future kids.”

"Uhm....what the fuck?"

The meek girl sniffed and wiped her nose on her jacket. “Mom, don’t say bad words!”

The twins, still sniffling, immediately switched gears. “You need to stop smoking too!” the little boy scolded. “It’s bad for you! You’re a doctor! How do you not know this?!”

“I know that brat, stop with the nagging.” Yoru muttered, flicking her cigarette away. “Doesn’t mean I care.”

After a second Yoru asked, "So.... if I'm your mother, who's your father? or did i just miraculously undergo a virgin birth? without a partner?" Yoru paused to think for a moment "that's kinda pathetic honestly."

Both twins pointed to none other than Benimaru. There was a brief pause as Yoru turned her gaze to him, eyebrow raised. “Are you... their father?”

Benimaru stared back at Yoru like she had just asked him the most stupidest question ever. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I don't know them.”

Yoru raised an eyebrow, leaned down and whispered to the twins, "Are you sure that’s your dad?” though the entire room overheard it. There was a burst of laughter from the other members, causing Benimaru to scowl. "What’s so funny?" he asked.

Yoru raised her hands in mock surrender. "Just asking."

“What are your names, anyway?” Yoru asked the twins.

The bold twin puffed out his chest. “I’m Shinmon Akito!”

“And I’m Shinmon Akari.” The girl said, still clinging to her.

“Well… I guess nice to meet you, Akito, Akari. Uh, sorry about the whole dying thing?”

The room erupted into chaos again.

“Beni, you and Yoru have been holding out on us!” one brigade member cackled.

“You make such a cute family,” another teased.

“I don’t have kids!” Benimaru snapped.

“Well, looks like Benimaru’s the least favorite parent! they didn't even hug you.”

Benimaru’s eye twitched. “Shut it.”

“Dad,” Akito said, smirking. “You’re okay, but mom is way cooler.”

The teasing only got worse from there, as the company members took turns interrogating and embarrassing both Benimaru and Yoru.

Maki wanted to know how they will end up together. Vulcan and Licht started theorizing about the exact mechanics of their apparent time travel. Even Iris tried to make Benimaru admit he likes Yoru (he didn’t, obviously).

Meanwhile, the twins clung to their “mother” refusing to leave her side. After much arguing and laughter, Obi finally suggested they spend time with the kids until they figured out how to send them back.

...........

Yoru sat in the clinic, her glasses slipping down her nose as she glared at the DNA test results in her hand.

The twins sat on a nearby bench, swinging their legs innocently, while Benimaru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking as uninterested as ever.

Despite her initial disbelief, the results were undeniable: a 99.9% match for both parents. She slapped the paper onto the desk and let out a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Well, congratulations, Captain," she muttered dryly, flicking her eyes up at him. "We're officially responsible for these little gremlins."

Benimaru’s eyes twitched, while Akito and Akira exchanged a triumphant look before launching into a chorus of "Told you so!"

The next few hours were chaos: Akito insisted on sparring with Benimaru, Akira made Yoru promise to eat healthier, and the companies couldn’t stop cracking jokes at their expense.

By the end of the day, Yoru looked ready to combust, and Benimaru was debating setting something on fire—preferably whoever started this madness.

..........

The room was quiet, save for the soft breathing of the twins as they slept soundly on the couch. Yoru leaned back on her chair, her arms crossed, while Benimaru sat opposite her, his head tilted against the wall.

Yoru broke the silence first, her tone teasing as she smirked at him. "So, Captain Shinmon, you sure you don’t have a little secret crush on me or something? You know, since apparently, we’re married and made those two in the future?"

Benimaru scoffed, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "You? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not even my type."

Yoru chuckled, flicking a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. "Right back at you, hotshot. I mean, come on—how did these two even become possible? We’re not really compatible. No way this happens naturally."

Benimaru shrugged, finally glancing at her. "Maybe you lose a bet or something. Or you get tired of scaring off everyone else with your attitude."

"Oh, please. You’d be lucky to have me. I’m the full package—brains, brawn, and charm. What’ve you got? A bad temper and a perpetual scowl?" Yoru snorted.

"But honestly, I'm still hung up at the thought that I'll die in the future." She continued as she glanced up the ceiling.

Silence...

After the pause, she glanced at him again, her voice quieter but teasing. "Just to make sure again....no secret little crush on me? None? Really?"

Benimaru rolled his eyes, settling his head back against the wall. "Shut up and go to sleep, woman."

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Sure thing… future hubby."

next?

[delusional-through-and-through]

HER 🥀

After the intense infernal outbreak and the explosive battle between Captain Shinmon Benimaru and the demon infernal, the once-lively streets of Asakusa were left battered. Homes were reduced to rubble, the air was heavy with the acrid stench of charred wood, and the cries of the injured echoed through the district. Asakusa’s resilient people, though accustomed to such chaos, were in desperate need of medical attention.

Amid the aftermath, Benimaru sat cross-legged on the ground, looking grumpy as usual, while Konro tried to keep his coughing at bay. The members of Company 8 stood around them awkwardly, with Captain Obi attempting to mend fences.

“Alright, let’s just clear the air here,” Obi said, clapping his hands together. “We’re not here to invade Asakusa, alright? We’re all on the same side.”

Benimaru raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Sure, but you lot have a knack for showing up right when things go to hell. Coincidence?”

“Yeah, that’s just our luck,” Maki muttered under her breath, earning a nudge from Hinawa.

“We came to help,” Obi insisted, his tone earnest. “And speaking of help, I’m calling in our resident doctor. The people here need treatment ASAP.”

Benimaru leaned back, his expression skeptical. “Your doctor better not be some quack.”

“She’s good,” Obi said confidently. “Bit of a character, though.”

.......

Izanami Yoru, Company 8’s nicotine-loving doctor. Walking with her platinum blonde hair styled in a regal crown braid and her long bangs framing her face, she looked like she’d strolled straight out of a fashion magazine. She wore her signature sunglasses—not for style, but because her eyes were fucking dry, and staring at anything too long made her feel like she was being punished by the sun itself.

Yoru was a picture of nonchalance as she lit a cigarette and surveyed the unfamiliar streets of Asakusa. She exhaled a plume of smoke, muttering to herself, “Great. First time in this place, and I’m already lost. Damn Obi and his vague directions.”

Spotting a group of locals huddled near the remains of a shrine, she approached with her usual unhurried swagger. “Hey, you lot,” she called out, startling them. “Seen a bunch of uniformed weirdos around here? Big guy, military posture, looks like he spends more time in the gym than at his desk?”

One of the older men pointed toward a side street where Company 7 guard house is located. Yoru gave a mock salute and headed off, cigarette dangling from her lips.

.......

When Yoru arrived, she was greeted by the full cast of Company 8, most of whom looked relieved.

“Finally,” Obi said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoru replied, brushing him off. “Next time, drop a pin or something, Captain Lost-and-Found.”

Benimaru stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the newcomer. “This is your doctor? She doesn’t exactly scream ‘medical professional.’”

“Don’t worry,” Yoru said, smirking. “I scream plenty when I need to.”

Konro, ever the peacemaker, chuckled softly. “If she’s from Company 8, I’m sure she’s capable.”

“Damn right,” Yoru said, flicking her cigarette away. “Now, point me to the clinic. I’ve got miracles to work.”

......

The local clinic in Asakusa was crowded, with injured residents filling every available space. Yoru surveyed the scene, cracking her knuckles. “Alright, people, let’s get this shit on the road.”

With a flick of her wrist, a swarm of shimmering blue flames in the shape of butterflies materialized around her. They danced through the air, their glow filling the room with an ethereal light. The injured gasped as the butterflies landed on them, the blue flames engulfing their wounds. Within moments, cuts sealed, burns faded, and broken bones knitted back together.

One particularly skeptical old man muttered, “What kind of witchcraft is this?”

“Relax, gramps,” Yoru said, smirking. “It’s not witchcraft—it’s top-tier medical care.”

......

As the night wore on, Yoru continued her work, occasionally pausing to light another cigarette and complain about the sheer number of patients. At one point, Benimaru walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re good,” he admitted grudgingly.

Yoru glanced at him over her sunglasses, her smirk returning. “Good? Try amazing. But hey, I’ll take the compliment, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

Benimaru frowned. “What did you just call me?”

Konro chuckled from behind him. “I think she’s warming up to you, Benimaru.”

By the end of the night, Asakusa’s injured were on the mend, and Yoru had cemented her place as the unusual, chain-smoking savior of the day.

As she packed up her gear, she muttered to herself, “Obi owes me extra coffee for this. And maybe next time a damn GPS.”