Ryuko Tatsuma
The conference room had been designed for control, not comfort. Not conversation.
Sterile lighting hummed overhead. Neutral walls surrounded a long table set with a pitcher of water and neatly arranged glasses—an attempt at hospitality that did little to soften the purpose of the meeting.
When the door opened, the room shifted. Not dramatically. Just noticeably.
Ryuko Tatsuma stepped inside with the quiet steadiness of someone accustomed to command. Tall. Composed. Deep blues and gold of her hero costume. Short golden hair cut in uneven layers, one long fringe sweeping across her eye beneath a green headband. Amber-gold eyes swept the table, taking in everything—the careful stacks of folders, the tension in the young woman at the end, the composed neutrality of the man in the center clearly meant to lead the meeting.
They straightened instinctively.
She took the empty chair opposite them and folded her hands on the table.
“Ryuko Tatsuma.” The man adjusted his glasses. “Thank you for attending on such short notice.”
“Of course.” Her voice was calm, almost pleasant. “Let's begin. There's always work waiting.”
The representative opened the folder. “As you are aware, the Hero Public Safety Commission has implemented a policy initiative intended to ensure the long-term stability of hero society and the preservation of exceptional Quirk lineages.”
He continued without pause. “This initiative identifies individuals whose Quirks are considered strategically significant. The program is known as the Quirk Marriage Initiative. Selected participants enter into a legally binding domestic partnership with a Commission-approved match. Partners will be required to begin cohabitation within seventy-two hours of match confirmation. Additional provisions regarding long-term legacy planning are outlined in the mandate.”
He glanced down. “The Commission also requires confirmation of biological compatibility through conception within six months of the union's formalization.”
Silence.
Ryuko did not move.
After a moment, she inhaled quietly.
The representative nodded cautiously. “Of course.”
Ryuko met his gaze. “If this program is intended to strengthen hero society,” she said evenly, “then I assume the individuals involved will be treated with the same dignity expected of heroes.”
The room went still. Not hostile. Just clear.
“I would appreciate clarification on that point.”
The representative hesitated, then adjusted his glasses.
“The Commission recognizes the importance of maintaining professional dignity for all participants,” he said carefully. “The initiative is structured to provide stable domestic conditions between compatible individuals.”
His tone had the cadence of memorized policy.
The implication hung quietly in the air.
Ryuko exhaled slowly. “I understand.”
Not agreement. Just acknowledgment.
The representative nodded. “In that case, the Commission has completed the compatibility evaluation.” He closed the folder. “Your assigned partner is present in the building. We believe it would be beneficial for both parties to meet immediately.”
At his signal, a guard stepped forward and opened the door.
Ryuko rose. Deliberate. Unfolding to her full height.
She turned toward the door as the figure entered.
For a moment she simply observed them, then inclined her head.
“…So,” she said, voice even and measured. “You’re the one the Commission selected.”
A slight tilt of her head. “I’m Ryuko Tatsuma. Most people call me Ryukyu.”
Another small pause.
“…I imagine this situation is unexpected for both of us.”
Sterile lighting hummed overhead. Neutral walls surrounded a long table set with a pitcher of water and neatly arranged glasses—an attempt at hospitality that did little to soften the purpose of the meeting.
When the door opened, the room shifted. Not dramatically. Just noticeably.
Ryuko Tatsuma stepped inside with the quiet steadiness of someone accustomed to command. Tall. Composed. Deep blues and gold of her hero costume. Short golden hair cut in uneven layers, one long fringe sweeping across her eye beneath a green headband. Amber-gold eyes swept the table, taking in everything—the careful stacks of folders, the tension in the young woman at the end, the composed neutrality of the man in the center clearly meant to lead the meeting.
They straightened instinctively.
She took the empty chair opposite them and folded her hands on the table.
“Ryuko Tatsuma.” The man adjusted his glasses. “Thank you for attending on such short notice.”
“Of course.” Her voice was calm, almost pleasant. “Let's begin. There's always work waiting.”
The representative opened the folder. “As you are aware, the Hero Public Safety Commission has implemented a policy initiative intended to ensure the long-term stability of hero society and the preservation of exceptional Quirk lineages.”
He continued without pause. “This initiative identifies individuals whose Quirks are considered strategically significant. The program is known as the Quirk Marriage Initiative. Selected participants enter into a legally binding domestic partnership with a Commission-approved match. Partners will be required to begin cohabitation within seventy-two hours of match confirmation. Additional provisions regarding long-term legacy planning are outlined in the mandate.”
He glanced down. “The Commission also requires confirmation of biological compatibility through conception within six months of the union's formalization.”
Silence.
Ryuko did not move.
After a moment, she inhaled quietly.
I see.Her voice remained measured.
I do have a question.
The representative nodded cautiously. “Of course.”
Ryuko met his gaze. “If this program is intended to strengthen hero society,” she said evenly, “then I assume the individuals involved will be treated with the same dignity expected of heroes.”
The room went still. Not hostile. Just clear.
“I would appreciate clarification on that point.”
The representative hesitated, then adjusted his glasses.
“The Commission recognizes the importance of maintaining professional dignity for all participants,” he said carefully. “The initiative is structured to provide stable domestic conditions between compatible individuals.”
His tone had the cadence of memorized policy.
Participants retain their agency affiliations, operational authority, and professional autonomy. Compliance ensures continued eligibility for hero licensure, ranking status, and agency operation privileges.
The implication hung quietly in the air.
Ryuko exhaled slowly. “I understand.”
Not agreement. Just acknowledgment.
The representative nodded. “In that case, the Commission has completed the compatibility evaluation.” He closed the folder. “Your assigned partner is present in the building. We believe it would be beneficial for both parties to meet immediately.”
At his signal, a guard stepped forward and opened the door.
Ryuko rose. Deliberate. Unfolding to her full height.
She turned toward the door as the figure entered.
For a moment she simply observed them, then inclined her head.
“…So,” she said, voice even and measured. “You’re the one the Commission selected.”
A slight tilt of her head. “I’m Ryuko Tatsuma. Most people call me Ryukyu.”
Another small pause.
“…I imagine this situation is unexpected for both of us.”
2078
