𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐒: bnha x atla

⌞#𝟎𝟎𝟒⌝

𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆 and Iluliaq emerged from the confines of his classroom, the chatter of students fading behind him as he navigated his way through the bustling streets.

The crisp air held a hint of coming winter as he made his way to the quaint coffee shop where he moonlighted as a barista.

Upon arrival, he slipped seamlessly through the back door, discarding the trappings of his middle school uniform for the more casual work attire. His long, white hair, was gathered and secured into an elegant ponytail that cascaded down his back, and swayed with an air of regality as he moved.

As he secured his belongings in the employee locker, he mentally prepared himself for another afternoon of steaming brews and muffled cafe chatter.

Stepping onto the shop's floor, his ocean eyes scanned the room, immediately recognizing the slumped figure at the counter.

It was Aizawa Shota, a man who frequented the shop enough to be considered a regular. Today, shadows clung to Aizawa like cobwebs, his usual exhausted demeanor seeming even more pronounced.

The air between them was filled with the subtle dance of their routine interaction. Iluliaq's voice was devoid of warmth, yet not unkind, as he addressed the tired hero before him.

"You look like you're on the brink of collapse, Aizawa. Your usual jolt of caffeine?" Iluliaq inquired, his fingers already tapping over the register keys, a mechanical habit born from many such encounters.

Aizawa managed a nod. "You know it. Make it strong enough to revive the dead." He murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper worn from a day of lecturing and heroics.

Iluliaq's expression remained impassive as he accepted the card from Aizawa's outstretched hand, the transaction completed with a swift exchange of plastic and paper.

"Strong enough to wake the dead is our standard, isn't it?" He quipped dryly, his tone betraying no hint of genuine curiosity or concern.

Aizawa grunted in agreement, retreating to his usual spot with the receipt clutched in his hand. Iluliaq watched him go, the slightest of smirks fleeting across his features before he turned his attention to the task at hand.

The coffee machine hissed and steamed under his expert manipulation, the bitter aroma of the shop's strongest blend filling the space as he worked. Iluliaq poured the dark liquid with precision, his mind wandering to the mysteries of his new world, thoughts occasionally punctuated by customers' requests and the clink of coins.

As he set the steaming cup on the counter, Aizawa approached with the slow gait of the overworked. "Thanks." He said, voice still laced with exhaustion. "You know, if you put half as much effort into pretending to care as you do making coffee, you might actually fool someone someday."

Iluliaq's eyes narrowed slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the jest. "If I ever find someone worth the effort, I'll consider it." He replied, the words cold yet coated with the faintest veneer of humor.

Aizawa chuckled, the sound raspy but genuine. "I'll hold you to that." He said before taking a long, appreciative sip of the life-giving brew.

"You look more dead than usual." Iluliaq remarked. "Another rough night playing hero?"

Aizawa's gaze flickered up, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Something like that." He replied, his voice rough like gravel. "The life of a Pro Hero isn't as glamorous as the kids think."