Chapter Text
You sighed as you stood outside the towering building before you. The sunshine glinted off the windows, causing you to squint as you glanced upwards. Like most of the buildings in the city, it seemed to stretch endlessly towards the sky. You found comfort in this, a good reminder of how small you were in the grand scheme of everything.
Taking another deep breath, you refocused your attention on the paper clutched tightly in your hand. It had arrived in the mail a few days ago, a letter from the Hero Commission. You treated it like all your mail, sitting at the table, sipping on your tea as you sorted through letters, distinguishing between bills that were long overdue and other miscellaneous pieces.
Frowning at the return address, you realized it wasn't an everyday occurrence for the Hero Commission to send letters, especially not to someone like you. You opened it without hesitation, your eyes widening at the text on the paper. You glanced over at the stack of bills on the table, filled with overdue notices and cutoff warnings. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, yet doubt still gnawed at your stomach. Sighing, you placed the letter back on the table, your face in your hands. Your current income wouldn't be able to pay any of the bills staring you in the face. This might be your chance to escape the clutches of debt and start fresh.
Gathering your courage, you folded the paper and stashed it back into your pocket as you strode through the shiny glass doors of the Commission office. The lobby was abuzz with activity, people coming and going, heroes rushing to and from elevators, and men and women in suits engaged in animated conversations. Ignoring the distractions, you made a beeline for the front desk.
Behind the desk sat a woman, busy typing on her computer. She appeared mature, somewhere in her mid-thirties, her sleek black hair combed into a tidy bun. Warm brown eyes turned toward you as you approached, and she greeted you with a friendly smile.
“Welcome to the HPSC. How can I assist you today?” she inquired sweetly. Nervously, you reached into your pocket and retrieved the letter, placing it on her desk and sliding it over to her.
“I'm here about this letter... I'm interested in signing up,” you stated, your voice revealing your unease. She promptly picked up the paper, adjusting her glasses that dangled around her neck, emitting a soft hum as she began to read.
"Alright, let me make a quick call and inform them. Someone will be down to escort you shortly, okay?" she said, returning the letter to you with another friendly smile. She reached for the phone and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs that lined the lobby. You sat down with a soft sigh, your nerves churning in your stomach. Fidgeting with your fingers, you couldn't help but question if all this was really worth it. Maybe you should just go back home and consider taking on a second job.
"Excuse me?" a voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to turn your attention to the speaker before you could collect your belongings and leave. "You're the one interested in our Future Securement Project, correct?"
You nodded, scrutinizing the man in front of you. He was attired in a black suit, white dress shirt, and a crimson tie. His hair appeared slightly disheveled, though you suspected it might be more due to genetics than a lack of grooming. It was worth noting that he looked utterly drained, evident from the dark circles under his eyes.
"Perfect, right this way. We just need to get some paperwork filled out, run some background checks, and the President would like to conduct a brief interview," he explained. Your eyes widened with anxiety at the mention of an interview, and the man seemed to sense your unease, hastily raising his hands. "Oh no, no, don't worry. It's nothing daunting. She interviews everyone, just looking for something very specific related to one of our candidates."
Before you knew it, he was leading you upstairs to a small conference room. The man who guided you upstairs offered a warm smile, opened the door, and gave a little wave to the individuals already inside.
"I would love to stay, but unfortunately, your “star” is off making my job difficult again. I trust your judgment here," he said quickly to the man and the woman in the room before hurrying back down the hallway with an audible groan as he scrolled through his phone.
Turning your attention back into the room, your eyes widened. You recognized the woman instantly; after all, she had just spoken at the Hero Billboard Chart a few weeks ago. She was the President of the HPSC, her ash blonde hair slicked back, and her dress suit impeccably neat. It didn’t take long to figure out that the man next to her must be the Vice President. You bowed respectfully before quickly taking a seat.
"Well, I believe introductions are in order," the president said softly. "I am Koharu Suzuki, but I would prefer it if you just called me Madam President. The man next to me is the Vice President of the Commission, Jiro Hayashi. What might we call you?"
"Y/N L/N," you answered softly, and the President gave you a stern nod in return.
"Alright, before we proceed with any paperwork, we're going to start with a brief interview to get to know you better, okay?" You nodded in response, watching as she picked up a clipboard, clicked open a pen, and cleared her throat slightly.
"Age?"
"Twenty-two."
"Profession?" She asked, and you nervously fidgeted with your hands before sighing.
"I work in a coffee shop," you replied, observing her pen as it scratched over the paper in front of her.
“Very good. Now, what about alcohol and drug use?”
“I drink occasionally when I’m out with friends, but never use drugs,” you answered, and she nodded, making notes with a soft sigh.
“Any current partners?” She asked, and you couldn't help the flush that spread across your face.
“Um, no. I had a boyfriend, but we broke up a few months ago,” you admitted with a sigh.
“Very well. You'll have to undergo a medical check regardless, so no worries there. Now, we have some open-ended questions for you to answer. Are you ready?” She asked, shifting in her chair. You took a moment, took a deep breath, and then nodded.
“How would you handle a bad press moment?” She asked, and you blinked as you considered the question. You weren't naive; you knew the press often sought to sensationalize stories, no matter how you responded.
“I would honestly try to keep my composure, making sure not to provide them with anything they could twist to make the situation worse. I would avoid responding with 'no comment' because that would only fuel speculation. The approach would depend on the situation, but it would definitely require a degree of tact-”
“Something he seems to lack,” the man beside the President muttered, earning a glare from her as he nonchalantly shrugged. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
“Tell me Y/N, what steps do you take to stay committed to a long-term goal, especially with a partner?” He asked, raising a hand to silence the President's objections to his questioning. You blinked in interest, surprised that the President would allow someone under her to stop her, but it wasn’t your place to figure out the dynamic. Instead you turned your attention to the question, thinking back on your relationship with your ex.
You had been together since high school, you thought you were in love. He was the man you were going to marry, you knew it deep down in your soul. You thought he felt the same way, offering you a place to stay when your parents finally kicked you out. He seemed to support you, you thought things were going great, until they weren’t.
“Well, I believe it's essential to create a plan together, break things down, and communicate openly. Maintaining a positive attitude is crucial-”
“Do you understand the nature of this program?” He inquired, and you nodded.
“Would you give up as soon as things get tough? We need to ensure that selected applicants won't bail at the first sign of trouble.”
“Oh, no, sir,” you replied with a shake of your head. “I wasn't raised to give up. I only ended my previous relationship because my partner cheated on me. I tried everything to improve our communication. Once I set my mind on something, I follow through.” It was the truth, a value instilled in you by your parents from an early age. You'd realized early that nobody was going to hold your hand in life; you had to carve your own path. They had made it clear when they kicked you out of the house. They'd been disappointed, wanting you to pursue a prestigious career like becoming a doctor, lawyer, or even a police officer. However, you had always aspired to be an artist.
Art had been your passion since you could first grasp a crayon. Painting, in particular, had captured your heart. You could spend hours in front of a canvas, the gentle swish of the brush against the fabric soothing your soul in ways you couldn't fully explain. Your parents, on the other hand, had handed you a bag and wished you luck, leaving you to find your own way. You had scrambled to get any job you could and had been fortunate when the owner of the coffee shop, where you frequented while browsing help wanted ads, took pity on you. Since then, you had worked hard, struggling to make ends meet, but never giving up on your dream of becoming an artist.
“Ah, so would you say you’re stubborn?” he inquired.
“If that is what you want to call it,” you shrugged, turning towards the President as she cleared her throat.
“Let me break this down for you,” she said firmly. “You seem like a good candidate, so I am going to go ahead and tell you that you’ve been selected now. I am going to hand you some forms to sign, background checks, medical forms, things to that degree. I am also going to give you a questionnaire to fill out, so we can match you with one of our heroes. From there, you’ll progress through various stages until we are sure the match will work. Are you okay with that?”
You nodded, grabbing the forms she slid to you. They were basic, requiring a few signatures and your initials in various spaces. You signed the forms fairly quickly before moving on to the questionnaire. It took a few minutes, answering various questions about your aspirations, your motivations for joining the project, how you handled stress, and various inquiries about your personal hobbies and activities.
The vice president smiled as he went over your answers, casting a glance at the President who was quick to shake her head at him. You weren't quite sure what was going on, but it wasn't your place to ask. The President stood, giving you a small smile before walking you towards the door.
“Thank you for coming today, Y/N,” she said, opening the door. “We will be in touch soon.”
Before the door could close fully, you just managed to hear the Vice President chuckle. “She’s perfect for him, and you know it.” The President let out a small tut, just as the door clicked closed. You blinked, trying to process everything that just happened, and as you made your way back towards the elevator, you couldn’t help but wonder who the "him" they were referring to was.