"Shit," you cursed, withdrawing your hand from the coffee pot with a soft hiss. Wincing, you quickly stuck the burnt part of your palm against your mouth, trying to soothe it with your tongue as you walked towards the sink to run it under cold water. It wasn't the first time you'd burned yourself, but it had been quite a while since you had been this distracted. With the way your mind had been running, it was only a matter of time before you hurt yourself.
"Are you okay over there, Y/N?" Your coworker called over to you, and you let out a sigh in response. Were you okay? If you were honest with yourself, you weren't entirely sure. You had just done something incredibly impulsive, to the point that if your mom still talked to you, she might disown you again. Who in their right mind signs up to basically marry a stranger and have a couple of kids?
You clenched your jaw as the answer bitterly popped into your mind. You were the person who signed up for things like this because you needed the stability and the income that came with hero work. This was your chance to make things right, to get her back. You had been trying for a long time, but without decent work, it was impossible. You needed money to start that fight, money for a lawyer, for a decent home, for everything you might need to provide the life she deserved.
It was a bit selfish, you knew that. But arranged marriages had been a thing for a long time, right? Besides, once the Commission paid off your debt, as they promised, you could actually try to have a relationship with the person they had matched you with.
You were genuinely excited to try to find love again. Your ex had fucked with you for so long that you began to think love was just a myth. So, this arrangement felt perfect. Getting married would be nice, having kids with someone who might actually care for them, and this came with the added perk of wiping out your debt. It was honestly the easiest way to accomplish all three things at once, the jackpot of life, so to speak.
Plus, it was entirely possible that this could actually end in love. How could it not? The Commission promised a decent match. You would date for a while before moving in together and getting married. For fuck's sake, at some point you were supposed to have sex with this person. It had to end in love, right?
"Hello, Earth to Y/N!" She said, brushing past you to grab the coffee pot, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Are you still with us?"
"Yes, sorry!" You called out, turning off the water and shaking your hand dry. You hesitated for a second, wondering if it was worth it to reveal everything that was going on. As far as friends went, she was nice, always there to listen, and honestly the closest thing you've had to a best friend since high school. You knew you would have to tell her everything, but for now, it was probably best to be vague about it.
"Just waiting to hear about an opportunity I applied for. It's been a few days since my interview, and they said I was selected, but I haven't heard anything."
"You're quitting?" She asked you with a frown, putting down the coffee pot and turning to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me you applied somewhere else?"
"It's not really a job, per se - hold on," you said, pausing to pull out your phone. Glancing down at the number, you couldn't help the nervous swallow. The Commission was finally reaching out. You looked up at your coworker, and she sighed.
"Just like you to speak it into existence. It's fine. I'll cover the front, so answer and get your new job so you can abandon me here," she said dramatically, covering her chest with her hands with a dramatic flare. You chuckled, mouthing a quick thank you before rushing into the break room. You shut the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath before hitting the little green answer button and bringing the phone to your ear.
"Hello?" You said shakily, trying to stop your hands from trembling.
"Hi! Is this Mrs. L/N?" The voice asked, causing you to narrow your eyes. You recognized that voice, but you were struggling to remember which person it belonged to.
"Yes," you answered, and the voice on the other end of the line chuckled.
"Good, this is Jiro, the Vice President of the Commission. I was just calling to see if you would be available today to come in and review your match's profile."
"Oh! Yes, um, I could be there by..." you trailed off, checking your watch. "Like 5:30? It'll take a bit for the train-"
"No need for that," the Vice President responded quickly. "We will provide transportation. I'll just give you a text so you have my cellphone number, and you can text me the address and the time you need to be picked up."
"Oh, um, thank you," you murmured back, and he chuckled again.
"It's my absolute pleasure. After all, I have a feeling you'll be doing us a huge favor," he said, the amusement obvious in his voice, and you couldn't help the anxiety that suddenly twisted your gut. What was that supposed to mean?
Before you could even ask, the line clicked, the dial tone ringing in your ear. You pulled the phone away from your face, a text message lighting up the screen. You glanced down, quickly reading it and letting out a long sigh. When they say the Commission is efficient, they mean it.
You swiftly texted back, providing the Vice President with the cafe's address and the time you'd finish your shift. Then you took a deep breath. Whatever he meant by his statement would have to wait; for now, work was more important. There would be time for questions at this meeting.
The rest of your shift went by fairly quickly. The cafe seemed to be decently busy today, a welcome change of pace from the usual lackluster crowd. You hardly had time to fix your hair and change out of your uniform before the Commission car pulled up to your job. Your coworker glanced at you in confusion, her mouth opening, and you took that as your cue. The last thing you needed was to answer her questions about this now. It would be better to fill her in on everything once you had all the information yourself.
Dashing out the door, you gave her a swift wave goodbye, ignoring the angry stare she gave you in return. You were certain you'd have several nasty messages from her later, but that was a later problem. You climbed into the car, the driver silent as you were driven away from the cafe. You sighed, leaning your head against the window as you drove through the city, trying to ease your nerves. This was a good thing; this was your only chance now. If this didn't work, then you would lose everything forever.
It didn't take long for the car to pull up at the back of the building. A worker opened the car door and assisted you out, which left you blinking in confusion. Why were they treating you as if you were someone important? You opened your mouth to ask but were quickly silenced by the worker walking away, gesturing for you to follow. They led you into the building and into an elevator. It dinged as you reached the top floor, the worker holding out his hands to allow you to go first. You nodded in thanks before entering the private conference room.
The room wasn't large, but it was undeniably breathtaking. The wall that housed the elevator was painted a pale blue, while the other three walls of the room were made of glass, allowing you to see right out into the open sky. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and you walked toward one of the glass walls, leaning forward to press yourself against it. You were sure that if you could reach outside, you'd be able to touch the clouds. What must that feel like?
"Enjoying yourself?" A stern, feminine voice broke the silence, making you jump. You turned around, blinking in surprise at the sight of both the President and Vice President seated at the round table before you. How had you missed them when you walked into the room?
"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, quickly bowing before straightening up. Your fingers fidgeted as you looked at them, your face flushed with embarrassment, until the Vice President suddenly chuckled, breaking the tense atmosphere.
"Now, now, Madam President," the Vice President said, his voice filled with amusement as he glanced at her. "Be nice. She's the one who's going to help us with our problem."
"Nobody has been able to solve it yet," she replied, rubbing her temples with a resigned sigh. "You would think he should know better. We trained him better than this."
"That's besides the point now," he said, turning his gaze back to you with a smile. "Come have a seat so we can discuss your match."
You quickly complied, taking a seat across from them. You couldn't help but notice the President's wary look and the Vice President's excitement. The Vice President swiftly reached down, opening the bag at his feet and pulling out a thick file, pushing it over towards you with a smile. You stared at the sizable file, surprised by its thickness, before looking back up at him.
"Go ahead, open it, and don't be too overwhelmed, okay? Heroes are just people too," he said with a friendly smile. You couldn't help but return it before reaching for the file and pulling it closer. You took a deep breath and opened the folder, only to freeze at the headshot. Your head shot back up, your eyes wide with shock as you stared at them.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, looking back down at the picture before you. The messy blonde hair, striking amber eyes, and the sharp markings surrounding them. His gaze was intense even in the picture, a stark contrast to the personality you had seen on television countless times. You would have had to live under a rock not to recognize him. Out of all the Commission employees, they had matched you with the number two hero in all of Japan?
"You don't have anyone else? Someone lower in the rankings?" You asked, unable to stop yourself. This was far too much, too quickly. You were so plain, so ordinary, and he was Hawks, a literal fucking model. There was no way this was going to work, no way he would like you.
"I'm afraid this is the match that was made," the President said with a grimace. "Is there a specific reason you'd like to be matched with someone else? Most girls would jump at the chance to even talk to him. He's the most eligible bachelor in all of Japan."
"I understand," you replied with a sigh. "But that's precisely why I'm skeptical. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me when he can have anyone he wants?"
The Vice President leaned forward, offering a reassuring smile. "You see, we've worked with Hawks for years, trained him, and we know him inside out. That's why I insisted on this match. I believe you're precisely his type. In that folder, you'll find his own survey of interests and other classified information. Everything in there is strictly confidential; that's why you signed an NDA. None of this is meant to reach the public. Are we clear?"
You nodded, a bit surprised, and examined the page with Hawks' headshot. It contained basic information, like his blood type and birthday, but interestingly, there was no name.
"Doesn't he have a real name?" you asked, scanning the pages for any hidden details.
The President's response was quick and stern. "No, he does not." It seemed like there was more to that story, but the Vice President refrained from elaborating. "You can take this file home to study. We'll also be providing your information to Hawks, and someone will reach out to you for your first date."
You nodded, and both of them stood. You quickly gathered the file into your arms, bowing respectfully before they dismissed you. As you headed into the elevator, your heart pounded, and your mind raced during the descent.
Just as you were about to step into the waiting car, a voice called out, halting your movements.
"Y/N!" You turned, surprised to see the Vice President racing toward you. You bowed, but he quickly grabbed your arm, preventing you from getting into the car.
"None of that, no need to be so formal with me," he said with a smile, then sighed. "I wanted to talk to you, away from the President for just a moment."
You blinked, and your stomach twisted with anxiety, much like when you had spoken on the phone earlier. "Uh, sure, Mr. Vice President," you replied, your grip on Hawks' folder tightening as you stood before him.
"Just Jiro, please," he insisted, then sighed and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "I want to be honest with you about something. You're not the first person Hawks has been matched with, but I certainly want you to be the last."
"Oh," you said in surprise, blinking blankly. Why was he telling you this?
"You seem to have something the others lacked—determination. I can already tell you won't fawn over him like some lovesick schoolgirl. He needs that, a healthy dose of reality. Listen to me, he's going to try his fucking hardest to run you off, but you're not going to give up, right?"
You couldn't help it; your brain automatically flashed an image of her and the mountain of bills on your table right now. You couldn't afford to let Hawks run you off, not with everything on the line like this.
"Of course not, sir," you said firmly, and he smiled brightly, clasping your shoulder.
"I knew you'd be perfect for this. Thank you, and good luck," he said before turning and walking away without another word. You watched him reenter the building, the wind blowing past you roughly as you stared at the door, trying to process everything that had just happened.
This wasn't going to be easy, was it? Well, no matter, you could handle a good challenge. You quickly climbed into the car, opening the file again. After all, he was just a person, as Mr. Jiro had said.