Y u i l h a n

Aizawa rose from his seat, posture slouched. His eyes skimmed the remaining competitors out on the field once more. "Also, do you honestly think Itou would give it her all unless there was some form of incentive driving her forwards?"

"Oh," Nanako breathed, realisation dawning on her features. "You're a sadist, aren't you?"

"Personally, I think Midnight better fits that description," said Aizawa, head tilted to indicate the announcer's box where Present Mic and Midnight were chatting up a storm. "I'm overly fond of mind games though."

"I can't throw a decent punch," Hajime said around a mouthful of a breakfast pastry from a selection Manual had brought with him to their flat above Ensō one morning, in the following week from her and Suge's conversation. She coughed and dislodged a few scraps of flaky pastry from the corner of her mouth with the pad of her index finger. "I can't punch someone, but my legs are pretty strong."

Manual picked at his own croissant; he'd barely taken a bite of the thing, though he'd sliced it in half and placed some freshly chopped fruit inside. Likely because he was transfixed watching Hajime devour pastry after pastry with terrifying ease. "We can work with that."

At the head of the table, Miwa leant back in her seat with satisfaction and took a sip from her coffee cup. "We should do this more often. It's nice to have someone join us for breakfast."

"Been there, tried that, saved you from a messy divorce," Hajime quipped, wiping her mouth again and then her chest as more crumbs had accumulated below the neck of her t-shirt.

"I was talking about Mister Manual," said Miwa.

Hajime ran her tongue over her teeth, searching out pieces of pastry and the seeds from the jam she knew were stuck against her gums. "Pretty sure Mister Manual has better Hero-y things to do than sit with us every morning."

"Not at all!" Manual blustered. He swallowed, looking at Hajime directly. "It's… I, ah, I don't mind at all."

Hajime blinked and eyed up another pastry. "Sure. Are you going to eat that?"

Wordlessly, Manual handed over the untouched half of his croissant.