Chapter Text
They say cops are only as good as the heroes who support them.
Which is unfortunately true, as without heroes, plenty of crimes would go unsolved. Plenty of villains would go free. Such is the way of the world after heroes came along, becoming the faces that civilians want to see whenever a crime takes place. Cops are just the backup.
How you wish you could be backup, even to a sidekick.
The police box you work at is a far cry from the stations in the big city, and it's not even one of the more active boxes in Tokyo. On the contrary, you haven't had any crimes to deal with since ... What? A month ago? Two? You're much more likely to talk and help one of the locals than chase a criminal, but the locals are nice people. Most of them, at least.
You know you shouldn't be complaining. Many other officers would kill (not literally!) to be in your box, where they can take it easy, not having to worry about criminals on a daily basis. Barely any ever show their face around here, and that makes for a safer community for the families who live here.
But that also makes for long days of doing absolutely nothing.
Out the window you stare at the blue sky, barely a cloud drifting across it. Sometimes you'll see a plane on its flight path away from the airport. Usually though, you'll just see birds. The box is their favorite hangout, apparently. Not good for the police car parked below them, but they're harmless otherwise.
You yawn, not even thinking about stifling it. You don't know how much more you can take of this mundane life, but certainly not another year.
Being a community police officer is beyond boring.
"Here. Maybe this'll help."
You whirl around in your chair, startled to see your fellow officer, Officer Isobe, holding out a drink for you. It's one he knows you like that can be found in any drink vending machine.
"Isobe-san, thanks." You take the drink, open it, and the cool taste is refreshing.
Isobe waits until you're done before saying, "Bet you can't wait to get out of here, huh?"
Had you still been drinking, you would've choked hearing that.
"Oh, I ..." You don't know what to say without sounding like a jerk.
"It's okay. I know you're still waiting on your transfer, but I have a good feeling it'll be approved soon." Isobe sits down in his chair–everyone at the box has their own chair including you–and opens the drink he bought for himself.
A moment passes before you say quietly, "I hope so. It's not that I hate working here, but ..."
"You want to be where the heroes are."
He hits the nail on the head. "Yeah, I want to work with as many of them as I can."
"And you will," Isobe encourages. He sighs then, taking a moment to look out the window you were just looking out yourself. "This koban ... It's good for an old man like me, but for a youngster like you, it's not where all the action is." He shakes his head. "No, that would be deep in the city."
Not on the outskirts of it. This box is too far away.
"You're not an old man, Isobe-san." He's only forty-three, still a long way to go before being at death's door.
But then again, didn't you think the same thing about Tsunagu before?
You're fresh off duty when a scream pierces the air, shrill and loud. It startles you, but then instincts kick in, and you do what you were trained to do.
Help people.
Since you're already outside, you immediately scan your surroundings for where the scream came from. There's a young woman standing by herself on the sidewalk, a horrified expression on her face.
You don't need an explanation for it, spotting a man running off with a bright yellow purse.
It's obvious what happened: He snatched her purse.
He's wearing no disguise and keeps frantically looking behind him, so this is probably a random snatching, but a snatching all the time.
You run after the purse snatcher, flashing your badge and yelling, "Police! Stop!"
Of course, he doesn't actually stop, but you have to yell that at him anyway. Not stopping as ordered by an officer? Gives you another reason to arrest him.
"No way! This is mine!" he yells back, having the audacity to wave the purse at you while he's running ahead.
He tries to lose you by knocking objects like a parked scooter and outdoor chairs in your way, but you avoid or jump over them. You can feel yourself gaining on him enough to tackle him when suddenly a large shadow overtakes you.
You look up, shocked to find none other than the No. 3 Wing Hero: Hawks flying right above your head. You catch his eye, and he winks, pointing to the purse snatcher with a single finger.
He wants to help, you realize, and a few feathers from his wings jump out, tripping the man until he falls face-first on the sidewalk. You don't hesitate to restrain him, taking out the handcuffs you keep on you.
Hawks lands. Another feather whacks the man on the hand, forcing him to let go of the purse, and then deliver that same purse to Hawks.
"I'm guessing this isn't yours," he teases.
You don't want to be teased, but you keep your cool. "No, it belongs to the woman who he stole it from."
"Good teamwork, by the way. You an officer or detective?"
For a second, you feel flattered to be mistaken for a detective. Maybe one day you will be. But an officer is all you are in the force right now, and you're not a liar.
"Officer Hakamada," you say as you cuff the man. "Thanks for your help."
"Hakamada?" Hawks studies your face, like he's looking at you for the first time ever. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a certain hero, would you?"
You swallow, not wanting to say anything. What if he opens his mouth and tells the world who you are? But if you stay silent, then he can just dig out the truth. It's not hard to find.
"... I'm exactly who you think I am," you finally answer, wary of the purse snatcher's presence.
Hawks whistles. "I almost can't believe it."
Yeah? Not your problem if he can't.
"What the fuck are you guys talking about?!?" yells the still struggling man you've cuffed, clearly confused.
"Nothing that concerns you." You pull the man up, making sure he's standing in front of you, back facing toward you. Now you can lead him to the box for further punishment for his crime.
Click, click, click.
You hear the clicks of shutters as people pull out their phones and take pictures of you, the handcuffed purse snatcher, and Hawks together. Though it makes you uncomfortable, you can't order them to put their phones away–or to stop clapping.
"That was amazing, Hawks!" one boy cheers.
"Hawks is really here!" one girl says.
"He's so cool!" says another boy. "He stopped the purse snatcher!"
"Thanks everyone," Hawks says to them before looking at you again. "But I wouldn't have been able to do it without the help of Officer Hakamada here."
"You don't have to–"
"Hawks, can you sign my hat?" a boy asks, holding out his hat and a pen for him to take.
The interruption prevents you from finishing, but you don't care. At least it takes Hawks's attention away. You want to leave him here to sign autographs for his fans, but he stops you with his words before you can go.
"See you later, Officer."
The way he says it, it's not a question. It's a promise. And you don't like it one bit.