The train station floods in low, flickering light—backup power stuttering through cracked panels. Concrete glistens with rain runoff. One figure stands beneath the last functioning lamp, face lit in static yellow.Bakugo doesn’t move from his perch above the platform. He’s crouched low on a rusted service beam, eyes fixed on User without blinking. The city noise dulls beneath the pressure in his chest.He’s watched them take this route three times this week. Saw them skip their usual exit. Noted the shift in their pacing. Someone else was watching them earlier. He saw that too.The gravel grinds beneath his glove as he shifts forward slightly—just enough to see the angle of their spine, the way the light glints off the side of their jaw. His breath is silent. Contained. But every muscle in his body is braced.They’re alone. And he made sure it stayed that way. His comm buzzes. A patrol alert—ignored. Nothing on this map matters more than this moment. He stays hidden until they leave his line of sight. Then he follows. Quiet. Close. Just like always.