The smell hit him first—charred meat, sesame oil, and something sweet that made his mouth water against his will.
Plates of half-eaten grilled chicken, pork ramen, thick-cut fries and dumplings sat scattered across the wide table, the combination of scents bombarding his nose immediately. The restaurant hummed with voices, clinking dishes, and the sizzle of the open kitchen—too much life, too much noise after weeks of sterile Academy silence.
"Ah, Mateo, never thought you'd make it," Amaya said snarkily as she stuffed her face with dumplings, her hero suit shifting as she made room for him to sit. Her costume was pitch-black skin-tight material that accentuated her slender curves, punctuated by gold plates protecting vital organs. Mateo had learned her quirk was 'Solar Power'—absorbing solar energy to release as lasers or heat. Maybe that explained the black suit, designed to drink in every photon.
"Weren't you taught that talking with your mouth full is bad manners?" Mateo shot back, and Amaya threw her head back and laughed. At the beginning, he'd just absorbed her teasing. Now he threw barbs back, which seemed to please her immensely.
"I feel like I'm going to pop," Anon groaned, forcing another piece of chicken into his mouth. "But this is too good! I can't stop eating!"
"Even at the cost of your well-being, your gluttony knows no bounds. How truly sinful of you, Anon," Switch sighed, taking another bite of his burrito as Marina and Seraphine laughed.
Mateo found himself chuckling—actually chuckling—until his eyes landed on Henrik's plate.
A bowl overflowing with golden strands of spaghetti, drowning in steaming red sauce with meatballs the size of a baby's fists. Mateo couldn't finish that if three people helped him, yet the wire-framed boy was inhaling it with mechanical efficiency.
"Surprised?" Akira asked, catching his stare. "You should be. His bowl was twice that size when you came in."
Alex stared at Henrik in weird awe. "That should not be humanly possible, dude."
Akira smirked, a little prouder than before. "Told you. My dad doesn't play around."
Henrik didn't respond, focused entirely on shoveling more pasta into his mouth. He swallowed a whole meatball without chewing.
Maybe that'll put some muscle on him, Mateo thought. Even after seven days of intense training, Henrik still looked malnourished—ribs visible through his shirt, gaunt eyes, hollow cheeks. In one of their few conversations, Mateo had learned Henrik came from the outskirts too, after hearing Eliza's EP17 call to enlist heroes. At least Henrik was letting himself indulge now.
Which brought Mateo to his steaming monster burger.
He picked it up—juice dripped onto the plate the moment he lifted it. He thought about savoring it, then shook his head and took a bite.
The taste overwhelmed him. Savory and charred, the bun soft but not soggy, the meat cooked perfectly. Some mystery sauce made his tongue sing with salt, sugar, and fat in perfect harmony.
"Mmm," he muttered as sauce dripped down his chin. He didn't care. He chewed through the delicious mix while conversations flowed around him.
This is what normal tastes like, he realized. This is what I've been fighting for without knowing it.
The thought should have comforted him. Instead, it made his chest tight.
Minutes passed. Conversations died down as everyone reached their limits, stomachs full for the first time in weeks.
It must have been ten PM by now—the streets outside dark except for commercial lights. Most customers had left, except for a couple in the booth behind him.
"So how's the job search going?" a man's voice drifted over.
"Horrible," a woman sighed. "There aren't many jobs left, and the ones that exist pay peanuts."
She shot a scathing glance toward the workers near the kitchen counter, cleaning up for closing. "And it's all because of those damn refugees rushing in here like moths to a flame. They're taking jobs and accepting lower wages!"
"You're right. They need to leave," the man agreed. "But where? I heard the fighting isn't slowing down like the news says. Five new cities fell this week."
"I don't care. They just have to go. The government and heroes should do their fucking job." She spat the words, then shot a nasty look at their table. "Let's go."
As the couple left, the woman's glare lingered on the rising heroes. Like we're not doing our job.
Mateo was the only one that heard, his jaw tense and clenched.
This is what we're protecting, Mateo thought bitterly. People who hate the very ones we're trying to save.
Reeves sat at the bar nearby, sipping her soju, watching them with something that might have been pride. Not the warm, fuzzy kind—the reserved satisfaction of a drill sergeant seeing recruits finally measure up.
"Looks like you've satisfied yourselves," she said finally, walking over as they managed weak chuckles.
The group filtered out into the night as Alex shoved one more spiced cinnamon bun into her mouth and Reeves went to settle the bill with Hayato.
Hayato waved them off with two fingers and a heartfelt, "Come back alive, yeah?"
Akira lingered as the others stepped outside.
"Promise me you'll be safe," Hayato said, pulling her into a hug. His voice dropped to a whisper, but Mateo caught fragments: "Promise you won't leave like she did."
She hugged him tighter, eyelids squeezed shut. "I promise."
"We'll keep her safe," Reeves said. "All of them."
Hayato looked at her, eyes sharp behind the warmth, tension bleeding through his careful composure. "You'd better."
There's history there, Mateo realized. Reeves had called him 'veteran' earlier, and they looked about the same age. Academy classmates, maybe?
Hayato kissed his daughter's forehead as she rejoined her classmates.
They walked out into the night, wind picking up as faint clouds drifted across the black sky.
"Go on, kids," Hayato called after them. "Go save the world."
The weight of those words followed them down the street.
Their hotel was built into a refurbished bank tower—not extravagant, but clean and functional. Reeves handled check-in while they waited in the sterile lobby, fluorescent lights humming overhead.
Once they reached their floor, Reeves stopped and turned on her heel, military bearing intact.
"Here's what happens now," she spoke in her usual cadence. "You sleep until morning. After that, we deploy to an affected city on the outskirts, where the war has started creeping in.
"The cities have been evacuated. Heroes are holding the front lines, but our job is to neutralize villains who've slipped through the boundaries. Think of it as cleanup duty."
Stragglers, Mateo thought. We get the ones trying to escape. Part of him wanted to hunt down every villain alive, especially the one who'd taken his family. Being farther from the main combat zones felt like safety he didn't deserve.
"We rest tonight," Reeves continued. "Full briefing tomorrow when we reach the site—a small town called Ashdrift."
Mateo's mouth went dry. Ashdrift. He'd left that dump to train at the Academy, never expecting to see it again.
Full circle, he thought. Everything comes back to where it started.
"Team assignments," Reeves concluded. "B-1, B-2, B-3. Formation."
They arranged themselves from weeks of drill: B-1: Inferno, Anon, Switch, and Maya B-2: Mateo, Alex, Henrik, and Akira
B-3: Amaya, Seraphine, Marina, and Ben
Three squares of four, ready for war.
She handed out room keys and left them to find their own rest.
Mateo walked into the room and surveyed the space. The interior had been redone for comfort—dim lights, warm carpeting, clean sheets. There was just one problem.
Three beds for four people.
Henrik immediately flopped onto his bed, sprawled flat on his chest. The pasta coma hit him like a brick wall.
The moment the door closed, Akira collapsed onto her bed like a dying woman. Her hero costume—black hakama pants and emerald green wushu top with a butter-yellow sash—made her look like a modern warrior. Now she was just a tired girl who'd said goodbye to her father, possibly for the last time.
Mateo nudged Henrik's shoulder, trying to get him to move over. The boy was completely unresponsive, breathing deep and even. Mateo didn't want to wake him.
Alex lay on her own bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Akira, can I—"
"No. That's too weird."
She was already half-asleep, Dong curled like an emerald snake around her neck.
That left Alex's bed. It was barely wide enough for one person, let alone two. They'd have to press together to fit, and neither of them was ready for that kind of intimacy.
Over the past week, the sharp tension between them had dulled to something manageable. They'd learned to cooperate during training exercises, preparing for real combat. But they still weren't friends—just two people learning to trust each other with their lives.
He slid to the floor, resting his back against Alex's bed and stretching his legs toward Henrik's. Not comfortable, but workable. The whole situation felt surreal—back at the Academy, male and female dorms were strictly separated.
With lights off and city glow filtering through the blinds, melancholy settled over him like a blanket.
This would be his last normal night. After today, he couldn't guarantee seeing another sunrise. The thought filled him with wistfulness for something that had never really existed. Even before the war claimed his family, his life hadn't been normal. His mother worked two jobs just to keep them fed. At twelve, he'd been working day shifts. His only real connection had been Alec, his older brother, in their shared room in their dead-end apartment.
This night. This dinner. This had become his core memory of what peace could feel like.
"Do you think we'll ever be this happy again?"
The question came from Akira, who he'd assumed was asleep.
No one answered. Maybe they were already unconscious. Maybe they were afraid of the truth.
Mateo fell into the latter category, so he pretended to be the former. When her question hung unanswered, Akira's breathing deepened into sleep's rhythm. Soon his own eyelids grew heavy.
Only when all three were asleep did Alex murmur under her breath:
"I never said you couldn't sleep with me, dumbass."
Tomorrow they would face war. Tonight, for just a moment, they had this.