BNHA: I am Reiji Toga

The room was almost completely dark, with only the flickering light of a faulty streetlight outside filtering through the curtain. The ceiling fan turned slowly, emitting a monotonous hum that seemed to mark time in a night that never quite moved.

Reiji was awake, lying on the bed, one leg off the mattress and his arms crossed behind his head. He had been staring at the ceiling for over an hour, not moving a single muscle except for the occasional slight blink. He wasn't even trying to sleep.

The phone on his desk vibrated once.

Reiji sat up with measured slowness. His movements were precise, as if he knew exactly what he would do even before he did it. He walked barefoot across the creaking wood and picked up the phone. As he swiped his finger across the screen, there was no greeting. Only the distorted voice on the other end.

"Training agent number 087. Mission assigned. Intervention level: zero. Risk level: moderate. Objective: Surveillance of a criminal organization with possible ties to a professional hero. Departure required at 9:00 p.m. Estimated duration: six hours. Remote monitoring."

Reiji gritted his teeth in silence. Not so much because of the mission, but because of the detail that slipped between the lines.

"Roger," was his only reply, his voice barely a murmur in the stillness.

The call was cut off immediately, as if it had never existed. Reiji left the phone on the desk and stared at it for a few seconds. Then he slowly turned his gaze toward the window.

The city was still out there. Asleep, peaceful, ignorant.

And he, trapped in the shadows.

He walked back to the bed, but didn't lie down. He crouched down next to a ledge and peeled a sheet of paper off the floor with his fingernail. Beneath it, a hidden compartment held a small notebook stamped with the Commission's emblem. He opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until he stopped at a blank sheet of paper. He wrote a line in pencil:

"Mission 003: Hero-patron contact. Confirm bond. Evaluate patterns. Observe without intervening."

He stared at those words. The writing was firm, but his stomach was churning. He closed the notebook and returned it to its hiding place.

When he looked at the clock again, it read 1:18.

The soft sound of a door making him tense. He turned his head toward the hallway. Nothing. Silence.

He crept to the door of his room and opened it a crack. The house was dark, but a small shadow moved at the end of the corridor: Himiko, sleepily walking toward the bathroom, wrapped in a blanket.

Reiji stepped back quietly and closed the door slowly. He leaned his back against it and sighed.

***

The night air was thick, almost sticky, as if the residual heat of the day had mixed with the urban stench of the industrial zone. Reiji crouched on a fifth-floor ledge, his hands sheathed in gloves, his body hidden beneath a light-absorbing black cloak.

In front of him, a complex of worn-out buildings served as a front for a group the Commission said trafficked more than just illegal goods. In internal documents, they were known as Kuraoku, and were linked to the distribution of modified technology, extortion, and alleged ties to one or more corrupt pro heroes.

The earpiece in his ear was barely buzzing with static when a neutral, methodical female voice broke the silence.

"Contact confirmed. Man in gray trench coat entering through side entrance. Hero mark visible on the inside of the coat." Pause. "Observation mode, kid. No interference."

"Understood," he whispered, barely moving his lips.

He didn't know who the voice was. For weeks, he'd been guided by various anonymous supervisors, depending on the operation. Only Hawks had a direct line to him, but in the field, he wouldn't always have his mentor.

Through long-range binoculars, Reiji spotted a tall, upright figure with confident movements. His face was hidden beneath the shadow of a hood, but the metallic reflection on his chest left no doubt: he was a registered hero.

'Who the hell are you?'

The hero shook hands with one of the group members. They chatted briefly. Then the dealer took out a tablet and showed it to him. The hero nodded. An exchange of glances. Then a laugh. The atmosphere wasn't tense. It was routine.

"This isn't the first time," Reiji muttered instinctively.

"Correct," the voice in the receiver replied. And nothing more.

An hour later, when the contact had withdrawn and the rest of the group returned to the building, Reiji packed his gear and walked away, like a shadow slipping through the cracks.

He wasn't given permission to intervene. Not to confront. Just to watch.

'My mission is over, they'll probably mark him... What classification will they give him? I don't think it'll be enough to kill him,'

I uttered, just a miserable internal dialogue with no response.

***

The sound of the coffee maker in the background, the customers' whispers, and the soft background music were the last things Reiji expected after a mission. But there he was, sitting in front of a cup of coffee he'd barely touched, watching Hawks devour a fruit cake with childlike enthusiasm.

"You really asked me to meet you at a coffee shop for this?" Reiji asked, swirling his spoon in a still-steaming cup.

Hawks shrugged, his mouth full. "You know, a relaxed atmosphere. Gotta take care of the stress of a hero-in-training."

Reiji rested his chin on his hand, staring out the window. "This is all so weird. I spend days in underground facilities monitoring criminals, and now they're taking me out to eat cake like it's a school field trip."

"So? How did I do it?" he asked after a long sip.

Hawks put down his fork and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. His expression changed slightly, more serious. "Not bad. You knew when to keep your distance, when to hide, and when not to stare too hard... important."

"But."

"But you still lack the experience to interpret what you see." He leaned back in his chair. "That gang wasn't just a group of thugs. The tall guy with the glasses... He's the cousin of a pro hero. They meet every now and then to trade things. Information, favors, illegal items. Nothing you can prove without a full investigation."

Reiji frowned. "And what does the Commission do?"

"Exactly what you did. Observe. Take notes. Wait for the right moment." Hawks lowered his voice. "One wrong move and the whole system breaks down. Sometimes you have to let the pigs wallow in the mud a little longer before you catch them."

Reiji looked more closely at his coffee. He sank into the seat across from him without saying anything.

Hawks put down his fork and interlaced his fingers on the table. His relaxed smile disappeared.

"Now, seriously... you're going to start receiving more missions."

Reiji raised an eyebrow. "So soon?"

"Yes. I also have my duties as a pro hero to attend to. The agency, the press, events... And I won't always be able to be on your toes like before." He lowered his voice slightly. "You're going to be more alone in this."

"Was that a formal farewell?" Reiji said, tilting his head with feigned indifference.

"More like a change of pace," Hawks leaned forward. "And that's why I want you to be careful. You have to find a way to keep your family from suspecting anything. Not your sister, not your parents. They can't know what you're doing."

Reiji looked down at his still-full cup. "Mom and Dad have already distanced themselves without me doing anything... What would happen if they found out I was part of this? What would they think if they knew I was being trained to kill?"

"I understand. I'm supposed to be at a friend's house today. I'll be fine." That was all he said, his voice low but firm.

Hawks watched him for a few seconds. Then he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head, as if nothing had happened.

"By the way..." he said in a more cheerful tone, as if wanting to change the heavy atmosphere.

"Someone curious came to my agency today. An intern. They say she's rising quickly in popularity. Her name is Mt. Lady."

Reiji raised an eyebrow. "Mt. Lady?"

"Uh-huh. Tall, blonde, self-centered like a commercial model. She has potential, though. She was assigned to me for supervision. You know... public relations, damage control. She's talented, but she's a walking mess."

Reiji was silent for a few seconds. His brow furrowed slightly. The name was more than familiar, of course. In his past life, Mt. Lady was one of the first heroes to go viral. She appeared in the first chapters, at the height of her fame. But... her with Hawks? That didn't quite fit.

'Events are changing too much. She wasn't supposed to take off as soon as Hawks did... Well, she's barely an intern, but it's definitely a change. Himiko's absence in her villainous role was supposed to affect the plot later on, but it seems I underestimated my presence.' She decided to ignore him for now and continue with her conversation. She liked being with Hawks and could relax more than she should have.

"Yeah, right. They send you to monitor an influencer with ego problems and call it strategic work." Reiji chuckled as he sipped his cup. "And she asked you for an autograph? Or a photo together for her social media?"

"She doesn't even act like she's her superior; most of the time she's worried about herself," Hawks laughed casually. Reiji snorted in derision.

"Little buffoon, eat something. I can't be the only one enjoying this place."

"The thing is, you invited me, and when someone invites you to a cafe with an expensive cake, you assume something's fishy. Are you projecting me as your intern?"

"Hey?!"

"Just kidding..."

They both laughed. A scene that might have seemed simple from the outside. But for Reiji, it was a pause. A respite before he plunged back into the shadows where true justice was decided.