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chapter 6

❝ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 ❞

↳ The meeting, which took two hours, was about a terrorist group being sent from China. Or what seems to be a terrorist group. Daisuke, a member of the JCG, found an encrypted letter and translated it, announcing that China is preparing to send bombers to the Japanese capital. Further evidence supports the claim that the letter wasn't fake.

It's a sign of war, and the president demanded everyone prevent it.

You know what this means: arduous work and more investigations.

"And traumatizing more people..."

"(y/n)?"

Akira pushes a cup of water by your cheek and sets it down at your desk. Feeling the warmth on your face, you look up and her and smile.

"Akira-san."

"You don't look so well, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired because Kenji-san woke me up early in the morning." You playfully glare at the said man.

"You would have been reprimanded if it wasn't for me," he mutters.

"I feel like my sleep should be more important than this stupid work," you grumble as you lay your head on the piles of papers scattered on your desk. Then you notice Bakugou's jacket on your lap.

"(y/n)," Kenji calls out. "who's jacket is that?"

"Eh?" you lift up your head and stare at him before looking back at the pullover. "Oh, my friend let me borrow his jacket this morning."

"Ooh, a boy?" Akira sneers.

"...yes?" you answer, unsure of why she's grinning weirdly. "Ah, but we're just friends."

"Just a friend?"

"Akira-san," you huff and she laughs.

"(y/n), you know the rules," Kenji mutters, and you roll your eyes.

"Yes, yes. No romantic relationships. But we're really just friends. We met like less than a week ago," you explain.

"Wait a second. It's been less than a week? Why does it feel like it's been months?"

Confused, you look back down at the jacket and fiddle with the zipper.

"(y/n), please get to work," a deep voice monotonously requests from behind you. You straighten your posture and nod at the stoic man, Yoshiro, and quickly get back to reading the files. He's known for his huge sense of justice and for keeping everyone on track with his few spoken words. Everybody respects him, so his advice is usually followed without delay.

You try to go back to the documents, but a yawn escapes your lips. Suddenly, you feel a giant hand on your head.

It's Yoshiro.

Even though his eyes are closed, you know he can see you. Like you, he has a mental type quirk. The 35-year-old has the ability to see bits of what every one has seen through his own eyes with just a glance. That's why he closes his eyes; it overwhelms him, and he feels like it invades people's privacy. It's quite sad that people find him scary for his tall and giant build.

"(y/n)," he says. "you may leave early as long as you finish half of your tasks."

"Seriously?" you cheer. Then you realize he would stay overtime to finish your work. Grinning, you shake your head, and he takes his hand off. "Actually, I don't have anything to do anyway. I'll stay!"

You didn't want them to have more work just because of your tiredness. This team may not be as close as a group of high school friends, but the sense of comfort and trust is like no other.