1. Buttons
Enji.
It was late afternoon.
The sun cast long shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows in Enji Todoroki’s office, painting the minamalist space in various shades of gold. The agency had begun to quieten hours before - with most of his heroes being out on patrol. The support staff had gone home. However, the Number One Hero remained at his desk, broad shoulders hunched over paperwork that should have been finished yesterday. Or maybe the day before.
He hadn’t been sleeping well. At all.
The divorce with his. . . now ex-wife, Rei, had been finalized three months before. While Rei had been gone from the estate much longer than that, the official end of his marriage sat heavy in his chest. He hadn’t battled her when she asked for it. She’d earned it. He’d broken her, and now he was living with the consequences of his actions. He didn’t feel grief, exactly. Something much more complicated. Something that left him staring at his bedroom ceiling at 2am, jaw clenched. His body restless in ways he refused to acknowledge.
He signed yet another document with a sharp, aggressive stroke of his pen. His jaw was tight, his collar feeling too constricting. The scent of coffee that had long since gone cold in the cup beside him, and he was still hard at work, driving himself too hard. Much harder than was necessary. Because stopping his work meant thinking. And thinking lead to trouble.
He shifted in his chair, adjusting his posture. The movement did absolutely nothing to ease the tension coiled in his muscles. His secretary would be arriving soon for their end of day briefing. She was professional, efficient. Beautiful in the kind of way that made him grind his teeth most days, although he would never admit it.
He heard footsteps approaching his office door. Heels clicking against the tiled floors. Moments later, a knock came. Three, gentle knocks. That would be her. “Sir, may I enter?” she called. He grunted a response, but then realised she probably hadn’t heard him. Still, the door handle was pushed down, and she stepped inside, clipboard pressed against her chest. His pen stilled mid-signature. That’s when he noticed it. The first two buttons of her shirt, undone. He quickly averted his gaze, meeting her eyes. She stepped towards his desk - and then it hit him. A beautiful, floral scent. New perfume. She smelled. . . gorgeous. He shook that thought from his mind.
Stop it, Enji.
Her blonde hair framed her face, slightly curled at the bottom. That. . . was also new. His eyes flickered down for just a fraction of a second, before it snapped back up. Two buttons undone. The swell of her breasts visible above the fabric of her shirt.
Look away!
“Miss Kurusu,” he started, his voice rougher than intended. He cleared his throat, forcing his attention back to the document beneath his hand. “The incident report from the Kamino ward patrol. It’s incomplete.”Don’t look at her. Don’t think about that new scent. Don’t think about how you want to -She frowned a little bit, blinking a few times, “Oh. My apologies, sir. I will ensure that is sorted for you tomorrow morning. First thing.”He was quiet for a moment. “It’s late,” he continued, not looking up, “you should go home, Kurusu.”The words had come out wrong. He almost sounded concerned about her. His jaw tightened even more. She glanced up at the clock above his desk, tilting her head, “Yes. It is late. Perhaps I will go home, then.”She bowed her head respectfully to him. “Goodnight, sir,” she said quietly when she rose. She turned on her heel, and left his office. Leaving him alone again, with his thoughts.
The door clicked shut behind her. Enji stared at the closed door for much longer than he cared to admit, pen frozen in his hand. The scent of her new perfume lingered in the air, stubborn, warm. It wrapped around him like a challenge.
Different hair.
New perfume.
Two buttons undone.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, setting the pen down. His hand was tense. Everything was tense. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.He pushed back from his desk and stood by the window. The city sprawled underneath him, but he wasn’t seeing any of it. He was thinking about the way she’d tilted her head. The softness of her voice, particularly on the word “sir.” The flash of skin he’d tried so hard not to look at.
She is your employee.
She’s young enough to be your -
He cut the thought off before it could finish, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. It had been years. YEARS. Since he and Rei had stopped having sex. Since he’d touched a woman. Since a woman had touched him. His body was simply betraying him - reacting to the first woman who spent a lot of time in his presence. He was reading into it too much. The perfume, the hair, those damn buttons.
It’s summer. She’s simply too warm.
It has nothing to do with you.
He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, closing his eyes. . . but all he could think about was her and her stupid buttons.
