Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

 “It’s not fair. It’s not our fault. We have no say in our own lives. We’re living a fairy tale someone else wrote.”

― Melissa de la Cruz, The Isle of the Lost

 We’re sorry…

Midoriya crumples up the letter, his fists clenching.

How many times did he hear those words? Everyone’s oh so sorry around him. They’re so sorry he failed Yuuei’s practical exam. They’re so sorry he’s Quirkless. They’re sorry he can never become a Hero.

“Izuku…” His mum’s voice is filtered through the door, as well as her distress.

He throws the letter away. It’s over. He eyes the shelf on which his twelve completed notebooks on Hero data were aligned, the thirteenth one lying on his desk. He wants to burn them.

“Izuku, open the door please.”

She’s crying, now. She’s always been quick to cry and he, as her son, has inherited this trait from her. He should be crying but he isn’t.

“Izuku, I’m so—”

He opens the door, startling her. Midoriya Inko is kneeling on the ground, her hands wiping the rivers leaking from her eyes. He puts a hand on her shoulder, crouching.

“It’s alright.” I should’ve expected it. “Guess there was never a chance for me in the first place.” But I refuse to believe this.

She sniffles, “But you wanted to be a Pro Hero so bad…”

“I know.” You’re wrong. I still want to be a Pro Hero.

She chokes up and embraces him. He returns the hug and rubs her back, but his eyes are hard and dry. When she speaks, her voice is muffled by his shirt on which she was clinging to.

“What are you going to do, Izuku?”

For once, he voices his thoughts aloud. “I don’t know.”

Attending Yuuei is over. He can try the entrance General Department exams and be put on a waiting list, but he knows he would never truly attend Yuuei. The academy’s famous for its Heroic Department and it’s the only place where he could picture himself. Being in any other department would mean betraying himself. On the other hand, he doesn’t know what he wants to do as a normal job because he doesn’t want to have a normal job.

As foolish as it’s been, he never entertained the option he would be rejected and thus, never prepared a Plan B.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Midoriya disentangles himself from her arms, refusing to meet her eyes as he heads towards the door. As soon as his feet cross the threshold, he dashes in the streets, his destination clear in his mind. The Dagobah Municipal Beach Park is as empty as ever, except for the columns of trash piling up the entire shoreline. He cleared a spot where he had trained for a year in preparation for Yuuei’s entrance exams. It had been futile, in the end.

My dream’s futile in the end.

He punches himself. Hard. The shock sends him reeling, falling on the rubbish heap. He refuses to think such things. His dream isn’t futile. It can’t be. Saving people, protecting them, helping them can’t be futile, but why are people sorry when he’s telling them he wants do so? Midoriya may not have a Quirk but he possesses determination and zeal. Can’t he save people just with this, just by being himself?

Just by smiling, like All Might.

He refuses to shed the tears gathering in his eyes. He stands on his feet and begins climbing the trash mountain. He loses count of the times he slips and falls but he always gets back. When he reaches the top, he doesn’t know what he expected. Unimaginable rage or a breakdown, perhaps. All he feels is hollowness as he watches the sun sinking in the ocean’s depths.

“Why am I not enough?”

The wind whistling in his ear drowns his voice.

4 years later

Midoriya Izuku shoves his badge under the man’s nose, his expression blank.

“I’m part of the Police Force.”

He doesn’t wait for the man’s answer and bypasses him, ducking under the yellow tape. There are a few police officers lingering around the bound villain lying on his side, a muzzle-like device clamped around his mouth. Midoriya strides towards him, unsure of what he would do once he’ll reach him.

He never finds out because someone grabs his shoulder, halting him.

“Midoriya-kun, you shouldn’t be here. You don’t have the authorisation.”

Midoriya glances over his shoulder to see Tsukauchi Naomasa. The detective’s features are kind although his eyes are stern. His grip is like steel but Midoriya refuses to crumble.

“I finished my duties, sir.”

Tsukauchi sighs, “It’s nice to hear you finished the reports but your presence isn’t requested. Besides, you don’t have the skills to handle the current situation.”

“If I may, sir, I expressed many times my desire to learn those skills and I reiterate—”

“Don’t use formality to get your way, Midoriya-kun. I already told you that starting in the office is the first step to everyone working in the Police Force.”

Midoriya flinches, fighting against the urge to take a step back. Tsukauchi was already looking away, moving on to another police officer who surely had the necessary authorisation and skills to be on the field. Midoriya watches them discuss near the villain, occasionally eyeing the villain. He grits his teeth and swallows back any protest on the tip of his tongue. He’s aware, more than anyone else in the Police Force, about his situation as useless — or Quirkless, they’d rather say. They accepted him in their ranks but he never truly belonged.

Upon learning that most members of the Police Force didn’t have Quirks, Midoriya steered his career towards becoming a detective to take down villains and help Pro Heroes. What he didn’t know, however, was that those members did menial tasks and were forever glued to their desks since the Police Force didn’t want them to endanger their lives. Because of his Quirkless, Midoriya can’t be a Pro Hero and can’t be a true detective. Is there anything he can do or is he doomed to futility?

“Tsukauchi, look out!”

Midoriya snaps out of his thoughts just in time to see Tsukauchi bolting towards him, dragging the bound villain along with him. Next thing he knows, a laser strikes the ground where Tsukauchi had been standing, leaving an impressive dent on the cement. Midoriya observes the crater, numb, and merely blinks when the detective jostles against him.

“Get cover, Midoriya-kun!”

This time, the laser beam slices the air just in front of Midoriya and Tsukauchi. Midoriya shakes his head, staring next to him only to find the spot devoid of the detective. Tsukauchi was handing the villain to another officer, barking orders at the cordon of police officers that broke the formation. Midoriya sprints to take cover as instructed, nearly getting hit as countless red beam shoot in his direction.

It’s chaos. People were screaming, arms raised above their head in a desperate manner to shield themselves, and rushing away from the scene. The laser keeps on decimating the asphalt, targeting police officers and even civilians. Every Police Force member’s looking heavenwards, seeking the attacker. Their eyes are sweeping the buildings too fast, Midoriya notices, and not observing enough. They need to think. Where would a sniper hide?

A girl cried out for her mother, making Midoriya whirl around. She can’t be older than five and can’t reach higher than his waist. She’s clutching a bunny plush, her tiny legs shaking. She’s crying out but nobody hears. Nobody but Midoriya.

He doesn’t think. He moves.

“Midoriya, what are you doing?” Tsukauchi shouts.

Midoriya doesn’t listen. He moves.

He takes the girl in his arms, clutching her as tight as she does with her bunny, and dashes. He avoids every beam aimed at him, zigzagging in the street like a drunkard. It was going well until one of them hits him square in the back.

Midoriya gasps as his skin is set afire. He stumbles, muscles twitching as if electricity’s overriding him. The girl in his arm whimpers, her hands fisting his shirt. She’s afraid he’ll drop her. He understands her fear but it’s irrational. A Hero doesn’t drop someone he rescues until they’re safe.

Drawing a shaky breath, Midoriya wills himself to stumble under a stone archway, scrambling to hide. Leaning leaned against the cool wall, he watches tears trailing down the girl’s cheek.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe now.”

“I want my mummy. Where’s my mummy?”

Midoriya rubs her back, whispering, “We’ll find your mummy once the Police Force secures the area. I’ll help you look for your mummy, how does that sound?”

She perks up, a shadow of smile appearing on her lips. “Pinky promise?”

Midoriya shows his fifth finger to seal their promise, grinning at her encouragingly. Neither have time to curl their finger around the other when the earth rumbles beneath them. The girl squeaks, burying her face in his shirt. Midoriya hushes her and can’t help but peeking out. His jaw drops.

All Might was standing a few meters away from them. In one hand he was grasping the unconscious attacker by the collar.

Tsukauchi was talking to the Pro Hero while the police officers were spreading around, helping the ones who had been hit. Some people were coming back to the scene, still a little startled. Midoriya rises and heads towards them, guiding the girl with one hand.

“Do you see your mummy anywhere?”

She shakes her head, sniffling. Midoriya kneels and musters his brightest smile.

Just like All Might.

“It’s alright, we’ll find her.”

“Midoriya-kun, are you alright?”

Tsukauchi was jogging up to him, All Might following suit. Midoriya almost chokes in his own saliva as he gazes towards the Pro Hero.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammers, averting his eyes from All Might.

But All Might was still looking at him. “Who’s that little girl beside you, Midoriya-shonen?”

Midoriya doesn’t have to answer because the girl disentangles herself from Midoriya’s arms and hurries towards a lady. The three men watch the mother embrace her daughter tightly and giving her kisses on the forehead.

Midoriya smiles. He isn’t futile.

“Midoriya-kun,” the detective’s voice calls, “you do know you were reckless back then?”

“Maybe I was but I don’t regret it. This little girl was crying—”

“You should’ve let us handle this. You don’t have the skills—”

“I don’t have the skills but I’m the only one who did something,” Midoriya replies, aware that he’s bordering insolence by interrupting his superior. “I couldn’t let her there, could I?”

“There’s a reason to why rookies are kept in the office.” Tsukauchi’s voice has turned colder, his eyes narrowing. “They don’t have the skills.”

All Might doesn’t lose his smile but its shine does falter. “Naomasa, aren’t you—?”

But the detective hammers, “Go back to the office, Midoriya-kun.”

Where you belong.

Midoriya bites his lower lip and bows his head. He doesn’t look back at the little girl, at Tsukauchi or at All Might.

When he was young, Midoriya pictured his encounter with the Symbol of Peace as a glorious moment where the Pro Hero would see him commit an admirable deed and tell him he could become a Hero as well. Instead he’s been admonished by his superior as if he’s nothing but a child. It’s been far from glorious.

He doesn’t understand why Tsukauchi is irritated by the fact that he saved someone. Isn’t that what society expects of them, to reach out for others and help them?

My dream’s not futile.

Of course it’s not. Saving people is what Pro Heroes do. Saving people like he did, only a few minutes ago, by sheltering this little girl and taking the blow for her.

I’m enough.

Is he? Luck’s been on his side. It was one girl and not an entire population to save. Midoriya’s far from enough. He’s Quirkless. He’s alone. He’s stuck in an office.

Why am I not enough?

The bitterness making his blood boil drowns his inner voice.

I’ll be enough.

I’ll make sure of it.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

Selected

 “The question is not ‘Who is going to let me?’ It’s ‘Who is going to stop me?’”

— Juggernaut

Congratulations! You’ve been selected!

“What does this even mean,” Shimomura Kai frowns.

As a Pro Hero, he receives two kinds of missive: his sidekicks’ business reports or any articles related to him. What he was holding in his hands, however, was neither. He considers throwing it away without even opening it but curiosity gets the best of him. It’s addressed, after all, not to the man Shimomura Kai but to the Pro Hero since it’s his Hero alias that’s scribbled in cursive letters on the front of the envelope.

Shimomura tears it opens and takes the letter. He unfolds the paper, its grainy texture rough under his fingertips, and his eyes narrow as they struggle to read the message.

Dear Elemental Armor,
Congratulations! You’ve been selected!
One of our agents will come and collect your soul within twenty-four hours.
Make sure your last day count.

Shimomura blinks then bursts in laughter, one hand clutching his chest. He should’ve known it’s a prank but this funny, this unoriginal? Kids these days had little to no imagination. It seems like they were trying to replicate the menacing mood of an old yakuza movie or those shinigami ones. Your soul, of all things, will be collected. Kids these days sure had a lot of time to waste if they went as far as sending him this letter.

Shimomura crumples the letter, wiping the tears in his eyes.

It’s too funny, he thinks as he tosses the letter in the trash bin.

“We have a case, Midoriya-kun.”

Midoriya startles as Tsukauchi drops a binder on his desk. Skittish, Midoriya hovers on the edge of his desk, looking down at the name written along the spine.

Elemental Armor. Shimomura Kai.

“What crime?”

“Homicide.”

Midoriya’s mouth spasms. “He killed someone?”

“No,” Tsukauchi replies, his features drawn, “he was killed.”

Midoriya gapes down at the binder. With trembling fingers, he opens it and comes face to face with a picture of Shimomura Kai’s round face. The picture is cropped at the shoulders but Midoriya has no trouble recognising the messy buzzcut hairstyle, the scar starting from his right ear and following his jawline down to his chin and the two pugnacious eyes glaring at him.

They did it.

“It’s your first murder case, isn’t it, Midoriya-kun?”

Tsukauchi’s staring at him, a benevolent smile curling his lips. He must mistake Midoriya’s jitteriness for apprehension, perhaps even raw fear, but the detective is wrong. Midoriya feels nothing but a strange exhilaration as he studies the Hero’s picture.

“Yes, sir,” he manages to croak.

“You don’t have to be afraid. We won’t send you on the field.”

Midoriya resists the urge to snort. He knows that already.

Instead he bows his head, murmuring, “Thank you, Tsukauchi-sensei.”

“You’ll still be on the case by being our informant. I want you to come up with everything you can on Elemental Armor and when I say everything, I mean everything. His cases, the criminal he arrested, his family, his background, his favourite anime, everything.”

“Yes, sir,” Midoriya nods but doesn’t mention he already did the research. He has to be thorough when finding his candidates, after all. “I’ll start now.”

Tsukauchi’s smile widens as he hands another binder to Midoriya. Unlike Shimomura Kai’s, this one’s empty except for a few loose sheets. It doesn’t even have an identification.

“What’s this, sir?”

“This will be our goal,” Tsukauchi declares as he writes down something on a strip of paper that he slides along the binder’s spine. “This is the criminal’s file.”

In other words, Midoriya’s goal is to ensure it stays empty. It’s an innocent black binder but the longer Midoriya stares at it, the faster his blood pumps. If Shimomura Kai’s picture is on the victims binder, then Midoriya’s belongs to the criminals’, according to Tsukauchi and the Police Force. But Midoriya knows it’s not supposed to be this way. Shimomura Kai doesn’t deserve to be called a victim as much as he doesn’t deserve to be a called a Pro Hero.

Beside him, Tsukauchi’s waiting for his response.

“It’s ingenious, sir,” is all Midoriya answers.

It hopefully satisfies his superior who pats Midoriya’s shoulder. “We’ll catch him together.”

Midoriya would rather not.

“Tell me, Midoriya-kun, what do you know about Elemental Armor?”

He wants to tense but knows Tsukauchi would notice it. Midoriya forces himself to relax and releases a feeble laugh, closing his eyes in false cheer as he looks at the the detective. He’s so glad Tsukauchi’s Quirk isn’t mind-reading.

“Why are you asking me of all people, sir?”

“When I did your first interview you told me you had numerous entries on Pro Heroes so I was wondering if you had one concerning Elemental Armor.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Uhm, Elemental Armor’s Quirk is Elemental Exoskeleton, which allows him to create an armour around his body and shape it at will using elemental forces at hand. He’s able to deflect attacks but also to absorb them if they’re made of elements and send them back. Depending of the element composing his armour, Elemental Armor can have enhanced strength, speed, and durability. His weaknesses are numerous, such as reverting back to original form if knocked unconscious or being limited to elements from already existing sources.”

“You sound like a textbook,” Tsukauchi chuckles.

Midoriya turns red but he himself doesn’t know if it’s from pride or embarrassment.

“You’re a hard worker,” the detective continues, “and I’m sure one day I’ll have the pleasure of working with you on the field.”

Tsukauchi leaves before he can see Midoriya’s crooked smile.

Tsukauchi’s team comes back a little after seven in the evening. Midoriya’s still sitting in front of his computer, browsing through lots of websites to look for information he already knows. His research is deliberately slow so he wouldn’t arise suspicion, so he only amassed half of the data he’s aware of.

“Here, Midoriya-kun, we got you dinner,” Tamakawa Sansa tells him as he gives him a sushi package. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful,” he confesses, then indicates Shimomura’s binder. “I have some information.”

Tsukauchi grabs the binder and sits at his desk, rummaging through it. The rest of the team settles around the round table where they held their usual morning prep talk, unwrapping their sushi assortment. Despite their joyful facade, they’re slouching on their seats and their eyes are glum.

Midoriya remains silent but listens to their conversation. Early in the morning, Tsukauchi and his team were dispatched to Shimomura Kai’s house to investigate the circumstances revolving the Pro Hero’s murder. In a way, it was better that Midoriya remains at the office. With Tsukauchi’s Quirk to detect when someone’s lying, he could’ve slipped without realising his mistake before it’s too late.

“Did you learn anything new?” Midoriya asks the officers.

“Not much,” one whose name escapes Midoriya shrugs. “Elemental Armor looked like he struggled quite a bit before his death. Only further analysis will tell us where exactly he died because there were bloodstains in every room.”

“Look, the killer was kind enough to leave a message.”

Tamakawa shows Midoriya one of the snaps he took. It’s a beige wall devoid of any frames and in the middle, written in capital letters dripping of crimson is the word ‘guilty’.

“We took a sample of blood in every room but we doubt we’ll find the killer’s among them.”

“It would be too easy, right?” Midoriya replies.

Tamakawa lets him look through the snaps although his eyes trail on him. The elder officer probably expects Midoriya to be sickened by the bloodstains, the crimson trails, the puddles, the handprint and the few scattered droplets, but Midoriya doesn’t as much as twitch as he examines them, going as far as eating his meal without feeling any nausea. He was studying one shot of Shimomura’s back, apparently slashed with blades, when Tsukauchi spoke.

“Midoriya-kun… What is this?”

Midoriya stills, one sushi halfway through his mouth. He puts his chopsticks down, already knowing what Tsukauchi was talking about in the report’s outline. Papers shuffle as the detective uncovers the truth about Shimomura Kai, page after page. The detective’s team is quiet, waiting for their leader’s next call.

“Where did you find this?”

“On a website I occasionally consult for my reports in case something like this occurs,” Midoriya reveals. “It delves around unsolved cases surrounding Pro Heroes. Most of them are rumours but a rumour’s root always is near the truth.”

“But it’s still a rumour. We’re police officers and detectives. We need facts.”

“We can investigate. What if what happened is true?”

“I don’t think you understand.”

The detective’s chilly tone makes him shiver. Midoriya swivels on his chair, realising that everyone’s staring at him solemnly, as if he’s committed the gravest offence.

“You’re sullying Shimomura’s name by bringing up these rumours.”

“You told me to search for everything. I did what you asked.”

“Everything factual,” Tsukauchi sighs through his nose. “I thought you’d understand something so simple and logical.”

“But sir, what if—?”

“We don’t solve crimes with assumptions. Besides, Shimomura-san was a Pro Hero. He knows the law almost better than us.”

Midoriya watches the ground, clenching his jaw.

“With all due respect to Pro Heroes, sir, they’re still humans.”

They still sin, is what he wants to add but he fears that defending his way further would only increase his in-office stay. He’s learned it the hard way that once the Police Force judges you acted out of line, you regress back to working in office. In Midoriya’s case, six supplementary months had been judged as necessary for him to understand his wrongs.

“If any Pro Hero acts out of line, I’ll know it.”

Arrogant, Midoriya seethes inwardly. Tsukauchi’s Quirk, while incredibly useful for his profession, doesn’t give him clairvoyance or an all-seeing telepathy. He can sense when one person’s lying to him. Midoriya bets Tsukauchi and Shimomura had only talked once and not because they wanted to meet but because they had to. Once a Pro Hero receives his permanent license, he has to meet the Police Force’s board.

Tsukauchi can’t talk to every Pro Hero in Japan once in a month to control corruption within their ranks. It’s unrealisable. Still, they have to cleanse Japan of monsters parading with a Hero license, monsters like Shimomura Kai, or else the core of Japan itself would be rotten. The Law system would crumble, no matter how steadfast Tsukauchi would fight to maintain it.

You can talk about justice all you want but if no one listens to you, you’re wasting your time.

Tsukauchi was wasting his time. The Police Force was wasting their time.

“Redo your report, Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi orders. “I want facts.”

Midoriya himself was wasting his time.

But he rises soundlessly, grabs the white binder and sits back in front of his computer. He doesn’t complain as he rips the pages from the binder and tosses them all in the recycle bin. He would’ve preferred watching them being shred one by one, perhaps for more dramatics. They should know he spent the entire day working on this report, polishing his language, piling up footnotes and references just to have it rejected because the report lacks of facts.

And here lies my hard work. In the trash.

Tsukauchi’s unspoken words ring in his head. Where you belong.

Midoriya snatches what’s left of his sushi and shoves it in his bag, bowing stiffly.

“Thank you for dinner. I’ll take my leave.”

He doesn’t wait for their answer since he shuts the door behind him, hands curled into fists.

Midoriya opens a new tab, clicking on the all-too familiar hyperlink. He occasionally consults the website for his reports for the Police Force, it’s the truth. What he omitted to Tsukauchi, however, was that he’s the one who created the website.

Shimomura Kai

Pro Hero name: Elemental Armor

Quirk: Elemental Exoskeleton (allows user to shape an armour around body using elemental forces)

Crime: Duty to rescue

Explanation: As a Pro Hero, Shimomura Kai known as Elemental Armor is bound to rescue people in need (Click link for definition). On April 4 2007, Shimomura Kai neglected to rescue Yamane Eri who was calling for help from villain Reaper. She succumbed to her wounds inflicted by Reaper at the hospital on the same day.

Since the Law states that the most effective rescues are made by people with skills, Shimomura, by his profession as Pro Hero, was bound to help Yamane. His profession as Pro Hero also entails that he can endanger his life rescuing civilians thus invalidating any excuse of protecting his own life.

What happened is even more tragic since Yamane died from her injuries due to no aid having been provided by Shimomura Kai.

Verdict: Guilty

Status: Alive

He hasn’t touched Shimomura Kai’s page since its creation. He never thought the day would come he could update it. Midoriya’s fingers slam on the keyboard at the speed of lightning, his heart thumping against his ribcage.

Status: Eliminated

Shimomura Kai’s body has turned cold now. Yamane Eri’s soul has been avenged, and whoever Elemental Armor could’ve also failed in the past. He wouldn’t neglect his duty anymore.

“He didn’t deserve to be a Pro Hero,” Midoriya chirps. “Now, who else doesn’t?”

“Many don’t.”

Midoriya glances over his shoulder, staring at the scrawny man who spoke behind him. He’s not accustomed yet to working with partners who have a similar goal as his. Similar doesn’t mean the same, for Tomura Shigaraki had been quite clear on what his ultimate goal was. Killing All Might certainly wasn’t Midoriya Izuku’s ultimate goal.

“Many don’t, I agree. Should we wait a week before the next operation?”

“You’re the one who tells us about our next target,” Kurogiri notes, “and the one working in the Police Force. What have they said of Elemental Armor’s death? Are they suspecting us?”

“They don’t let me near anything too important. Remember, I’m lacking the skills,” Midoriya chuckles mirthlessly. “But I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“I think we should and I am,” Tomura drawls from the couch. “You’re on Tsukauchi’s team. His Quirk’s all about unraveling lies and deceit. What if you get caught?”

Midoriya beams at him, head tilting on the side, “I assure you I won’t.”

“Remember our agreement,” Tomura merely replies before rising and leaving the room.

Midoriya’s eyes shift to Kurogiri who was wiping the bar counter. “You’re not following him?”

“He can take care of himself.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Midoriya scoffs before turning to his computer.

He spent the last six months gathering data. Six gruelling months where he did nothing but obeying like a dog to the Police Force’s orders. Six abhorring months where he sat on the same seat every day in front of the same computer screen. Six tedious months where he was constantly reminded of his own Quirklessness as everyone around him evolved towards something greater while he was at the same place as the first day he entered the Police Force.

Today was different. Today was the end of those six powerless months. Today was the beginning of Midoriya Izuku’s usefulness, the realisation of his dreams, the fruits of his determination.

Today, I’m enough.

Midoriya lets his website chooses a page randomly. Every entry, after all, is about a Pro Hero who failed, who neglected, who sinned, and they’re all undeserving of their title. Once a new name appears, Midoriya leans back on his seat, steepling his hands under his chin.

“Congratulations, Native, you’ve been selected.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO

Acknowledged

“By judging others we blind ourselves to our own evil and to the grace which others are just as entitled to as we are.”
― Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

“Shimomura Kai going by Elemental Armor was found dead yesterday in his residence.”

Midoriya jolts when a photographer takes a shot, the flash blinding him. He edges closer to the wall, rising his notebook as if to shield himself from the throng of journalists listening to the Police Force’s statement. In front of him are Tsukauchi, delivering the press conference, along with Tamakawa and Tsuragamae, the Chief of the Police Force.

“According to forensics, he was murdered between two to three in the morning. The cause of death appears to be the multiples hits to his head.”

Midoriya scribbles down Tsukauchi’s account of events, wondering why the detective wasn’t specifying the cause of death or even talking about the other injuries. Was it to comfort the population, to instil confidence in the Police Force, to make believe they were handling the situation? Tsukauchi should’ve used the right terms.

He should’ve told the truth.

A reporter raised his hand, “Do you have any lead concerning the criminal?”

Midoriya almost breaks his pen by holding it too hard. He nevertheless writes the man’s question as his duty instructs him. Contrarily to Shimomura Kai, he executes what his profession, no matter how despicably boring it is, entails.

Still, they aren’t asking the good question. Who cares who murdered him? What they should question is the motive. Anyone can kill but without motive, there’s no murder.

“We’re beginning our investigation but for the moment, we have no lead. We assure you we’ll do everything possible to find him.”

Midoriya’s nose wrinkles. Why add such a comment at the end? Everyone knows the Police Force would do everything possible to catch the killer; it’s part of their job. If they didn’t, then they were failing their duty. If they didn’t, then Midoriya would have no choice but to add them to his list of candidates.

“Do you think the killer will strike again?”

Midoriya’s close to yanking his hair now. He doesn’t understand why no one’s questioning the motive. Are they all clueless? Isn’t it their very job to ask the right questions? Tsukauchi, however, doesn’t call them idiots and answers to the question with professional poise.

“As I mentioned before, this investigation just started and we’re still assembling data therefore I can’t say for certain that this case is a single occurrence.”

Detective Tsukauchi can’t say for certain but rookie Midoriya who doesn’t have the skills can.

He guarantees that Shimomura Kai’s murder won’t be a single occurrence.

“One of the pictures taken on the crime scene was leaked,” a reporter declares. “It showed the word ‘guilty’ written in what looked like Elemental Armor’s blood. Do you have any idea what the Pro Hero could be guilty of?”

Midoriya perks up, interested. He isn’t the one who leaked the picture, even if he entertained the idea more than once. In his opinion, he didn’t have much to gain from making accessible to the public. Also he wouldn’t have chosen this picture if given the choice. His favourite one was Tamakawa’s last picture, one that the police officer sometimes had trouble looking at because it showed Shimomura’s bashed head with fragments of skull and brain scattered around it like a halo.

Tsukauchi was recovering from his initial shock and about to answer when Chief Tsuragamae leaned over, his deep voice more assertive than the detective’s.

“Where did you find this picture? What’s your source?”

“If I disclose my source, will you take down the picture?”

“This picture’s part of a Police Force private investigation that isn’t meant to be publicised in any media without proper authorisation. To publish it on any platform is illegal so to answer your question, yes, I will take it down.”

“I will tell you my source once the press conference is over but you still haven’t answered my question. Do you have any idea why the word ‘guilty’ would be found on the crime scene?”

“Perhaps it’s because he is.”

Midoriya’s cheeks flame red once he realises he spoke aloud. Tsukauchi’s sending him a look that wavers between horror and irritation while Chief Tsuragamae’s eyes speak of punishing him with more in-office time. Much to Midoriya’s dismay, the cameras also flicker in his direction and he can see his wide eyes and gaping mouth in the lens’s reflection.

“What did you say?” The reporter pressures, rising to take a better look. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m nobody!” He splutters and takes a step back only for his back to meet the wall.

“He is no one of importance,” Tsukauchi intervenes and although it’s to save Midoriya from public humiliation, Midoriya considers wringing his superior’s neck. “He’s on my team to solve this case but like every other officer, he can only speculate.”

“I want to hear him speculate,” the reporter insists.

She crosses the distance before anyone can react, her cameraman hot on her trail, and shoves her microphone in front of Midoriya. He suppresses a yelp, fingers digging in his black notebook that he clasps close to his chest. Both his superiors rise, ready to grab the journalist by the shoulders and drag her out of the room, while Tamakawa simply shakes his head. Midoriya wants to duck and hide as he watches the camera zooming on him, taking in his unruly curls, his pale freckled face and the dark circles he never manages to conceal despite makeup weighing down his eyes.

He knows the Police Force wants him to stay silent but he also knows that it’s his greatest opportunity. Nobody listening to him knows he’s Quirkless. Nobody will shrug his opinion aside because of it, or laugh at him, or sneer when he’ll open his mouth.

So he speaks.

“I-It’s not a certainty, of course. As Detective Tsukauchi said, it’s too early to be sure of anything but the only reason I see why anyone would write ‘guilty’ on someone’s wall is because they believe this someone is guilty. Of what, I don’t know.”

“But do you think this can be the criminal’s motive?”

Midoriya’s eyes flutter to the gleaming name tag pinned on her blazer. Maki Yukiko, it says, and somehow Midoriya knows it won’t be the last time he’ll see her.

“I assume it can. The criminal judged his victim guilty of something and… killed him.”

“That’s enough!” Tsuragamae barks, wrenching Midoriya out of the reporter’s grasp. “This press conference is over. We won’t take any more questions. Thank you for coming here.”

Midoriya’s like a puppy being hauled by the neck as the Police Force Chiefs storms out of the room, Tsukauchi and Tamakawa following him. They march in the narrow corridor until they arrive to an empty room where he’s released, all but thrown on the floor. Midoriya winces, massaging the back of his neck, and Tamakawa slides the door shut behind them.

“What was this, Midoriya Izuku?” Tsuragamae growls. “What did you do?”

Midoriya feels like shrinking on himself, scrambling to stand up. Even with his full height, Tsuragamae’s a giant towering above him, eyes brewing a storm.

“I-I answered the journalist’s questions, sir…”

“You don’t have the position to answer them. Are you Chief of the Police Force?”

Midoriya can see where it’s leading so he answers through ground teeth, “No, sir.”

“Are you the one leading the team charged with solving Elemental Armor’s case?”

Redo your report, Midoriya-kun. I want facts.

“No, sir.”

“Are you even close to being a police officer with the skills required to be sent on the field?”

You don’t have to be afraid. We won’t send you on the field.

“No, sir.”

“Then tell me, did you have the permission to speak like you just did?”

Midoriya shuts his eyes tight. “No, sir.”

No, sir, but I’m enough.

“I’ll be honest with you. If you continue like this, then you’ll never be sent on the field. I know it’s what you want. Tsukauchi told me about it, tried to convince me to put you in early classes, but I refused because I sensed you weren’t ready. You still aren’t. Let’s hope you’ll be, one day.”

Tsuragamae frowns at him and Midoriya meets his eyes. The Police Chief Force doesn’t add anything and leaves the room. Tsukauchi sighs, leaning against the wall.

“Midoriya-kun, I know you wanted to help but you didn’t.”

“I just think, sir, that we’re bound to answer the questions to the best of our ability.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You have a good heart and good intentions and you want to help people but your ways are… unorthodox. By working with the Police Force, you accept to rely on others and your teammates will also rely on you. However, you’re acting solitarily and you don’t listen to us, you don’t trust us. We can’t trust you either because of that.”

Midoriya doesn’t answer, his eyes riveted to the ground. He doesn’t trust his tongue not to betray him if he dares to open his mouth.

“I want to believe you, I really do, but trust goes both ways. What can we do for you trust us?”

Midoriya himself doesn’t know if it’s realisable. In another world where he’s born with a Quirk, in another life where he gets his chance at Yuuei, in another dimension where Quirkless people aren’t unconsciously shunned, maybe he would be able to trust.

“Midoriya-kun,” Tamakawa whispers, “did you leak the picture?”

Maybe he, too, would be trusted.

“I didn’t leak it. You’re looking for the wrong person.”

Midoriya doesn’t miss Tamakawa’s glance towards Tsukauchi who nods imperceptibly. Of course, they have to verify if Midoriya’s telling the truth or not.

“I’d be glad to help you find who did it though.”

“Your help will be of great assistance, Midoriya-kun.” Tsukauchi must’ve caught Midoriya’s eye roll because he keeps going, “I’m serious. There’s a reason why I requested you on my team. You have an uncanny astuteness. Did anyone ever tell you that before?”

“No, sir, I’m not… the type to be complimented.”

“Does this have to do with you being Quirkless?”

Midoriya chuckles, folding his arms. Is there anything that doesn’t have to do with him being Quirkless? His whole life revolves around being Quirkless.

“Tamakawa, wait for me outside. Midoriya-kun, look at me.”

He’s not sure why but he complies as Tamakawa leaves. Tsukauchi is staring at him, hands clasped. He looks weary, suddenly, and perhaps it’s in the way the neon lights illuminate his face.

“I’m not Quirkless so I can’t say I understand everything you’ve been through but I do have some friends who are Quirkless. I saw them struggle against prejudices, against society and against themselves, mainly. ‘It’s like I’m not enough,’ my friend would say. Do you know what I’d tell him?”

Midoriya shakes his head. He doesn’t need to hear anything the detective has to say because he knows he’s already enough. He made sure of it when he built his network of Pro Heroes who had sinned, when he selected Elemental Armor, when contacted the League, when he orchestrated Shimomura Kai’s murder, when—

Tsukauchi walks up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders, and somehow Midoriya can’t swallow the lump constricting his throat.

“You are enough. I know you don’t think so. I know you think, ‘How can I be enough when others around me have the power to save people?’ Saving people isn’t about bending metal or having super strength. Saving people is about your selflessness and courage. You have what it takes to save people. The only one stopping you to save people is yourself by limiting your vision. Midoriya-kun, you are enough.”

Midoriya observes Tsukauchi, smiling sadly and thinking, If only you’ve told me this sooner. Instead, he settles on a neutral question.

“To whom did you say that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“Trust goes both ways.”

The detective chuckles at the retort he himself has said earlier. “Yes, you’re right, but I’m sworn to secrecy. If I could I’d tell you.”

Midoriya assumes it’s only fair he has secrets. He himself has a chest of them, after all.

“You’ve got yourself a name, kozo,” Tomura drawls. “The Judge.”

Midoriya fumbles to catch the newspapers thrown in his direction. The caption underneath the headline displays a picture of the three Police Force members, but what catches Midoriya’s interest is the a title in bold, capital letters that makes his heart skip a beat.

ELEMENTAL ARMOR JUDGED GUILTY BY KILLER

“Have you seen it? The press conference?”

“We watched everything,” Kurogiri confirms.

Midoriya isn’t shocked to see Maki Yukiko’s name figuring on the byline. As he reads the article, he realises the journalist refers to him as a ‘Police Force rookie who seems more willing than Chief Tsuragamae Kenji to investigate’.

“Do you like it?” Tomura asks. “The attention you’ve got?”

Midoriya scowls as he reads the concluding paragraph of Maki’s article.

While it’s unsure why Pro Hero Elemental Armor was killed, his murderer had no doubts in his mind when he committed the act. Whether it’s for revenge or for another cause still unknown, Shimomura Kai was found guilty and judged for his crime. His murder consists of, bluntly put, his sentence. Detective Tsukauchi was adamant on saying the investigation is young and thus unable to determine if Elemental Armor will be the only one judged, but if the Police Force’s facing an avenger killing for a justice that only he understands, then it won’t be case closed before a while.

“A justice that only he understands,” Midoriya repeats, hands shaking. “Only he understands.”

“She’s right. Even I don’t understand your motivation.”

Midoriya spins around to face Tomura. “Then why did you accept to work with me?”

“Because killing Heroes is fun.”

Tomura’s red eyes were glimmering with malevolence between one of his hands’ grey fingers. He slouches on the couch, arms spreading open in flourish.

“You came here telling me you had information on how to kill Heroes. I’d be a fool to refuse. It’s like I levelled up.”

Midoriya slams one hand on the table, the glasses jerking at the impact. One of them topples over and spills its fruit punch on the ground. The scarlet liquid reminds him vaguely of Shimomura Kai’s blood. The League of Villains’ headquarter falls silent.

“This isn’t a game.”

Tomura sniggers, “Isn’t it?”

“Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “Don’t provoke our guest.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like he can fight back. He’s Quirkless after all.”

Midoriya’s vision grows hazy before focusing on Tomura. He knows he’s in no position to fight, not only because of his lack of power, but because if he attacks then the contract he struck with the League would be voided. He doesn’t have time to find other henchmen.

“Bastard…”

“What are you gonna do? Write a file about me on your website?”

Midoriya could out of spite but what would it do? He could tell Tsukauchi that the League of Villains murdered Shimomura but doubts the detective would believe him. Besides, the killing method didn’t fit Tomura Shigaraki’s and his peculiar albeit destructive Quirk, Decay.

“There’s the truth, kozo. You act so powerful and mighty when you select those Heroes but really what you’re doing is useless. One, you can’t even kill them yourselves and two, Heroes will always sin no matter how efficient your pest control could be.”

“It’s not useless. The Heroes I select are those who didn’t enact their duties but some do and have no reasons to be killed.”

“Don’t tell me you actually believe what you say,” Tomura snarls. “All Heroes are meant to be eradicated. You think your dear All Might never sinned?”

“I don’t think it. I’m sure of it.”

Midoriya barely has the time to dodge when Tomura lunges at him. He steps on the fruit punch glass, losing his footing, and holds his breath as one of the villain’s hands reaches for his forearm. Midoriya knows it isn’t to catch him before he falls, rather seeking to disintegrate him before he touches the ground instead. Just as Tomura’s fingertips are about to graze his skin, a portal swallows Tomura’s hand.

Midoriya falls on his rear, wide eyes never leaving Tomura who hovers above him. The latter’s glaring at Kurogiri.

“Let go,” he hisses.

“I won’t let you harm our guest.”

A few moments of silence pass where Midoriya expects Tomura to grab him with his other hand but the villain pulls back. He retracts his hand from Kurogiri’s portal, groaning in dissatisfaction. He’s not looking at Midoriya who’s still sprawled on the floor and breathing heavily.

“The Judge, uh? A judge has to be impartial.”

Midoriya bites his lower lips as he watches Tomura claim his place back on the couch as if nothing happened. Midoriya scrambles to his feet and rushes out of the underground headquarter, the two villains immobile behind him and not searching to make him stay.

All three know Midoriya’s going to come back sooner or later.

When Midoriya comes back to the office, he isn’t surprised to find Chief Tsuragamae sitting at their conference table, gazing over documents. He supposes he owes him an apology for overstepping his bounds, even if he doesn’t feel sorry in the slightest. Suppressing his pride, he musters his best humble face and steps forwards only to be whisked away by Tsukauchi.

“Midoriya-kun.” The detective’s voice is alarmed, his stance too stiff. “Have you heard the news?”

“No, but I saw today’s headline about—”

“Forget all about that. You were right.”

Midoriya blinks, incredulous. “What did you say?”

Tsukauchi brings him to the conference table. Midoriya recognises the pictures taken at Shimomura’s house, the familiar blood splatters he etched in his memory and the ‘GUILTY’ painted on the wall. But beside them are new pictures, unreleased to the public, even more gruesome. Even with the camera directly angled towards the victim’s face, it’s burnt beyond recognition.

“Who’s that?”

“That used to be Pro Hero Native, Yamazaki Hayato.”

Midoriya notices another picture. On the wall, just above Native’s corpse, the word ‘GUILTY’ is written using blood tainted with soot and ashes.

“Yamazaki Hayato, 27, found dead in his home a few hours ago,” Tsuragamae informs them.

So soon?

Midoriya looks to Tsukauchi, stuttering, “S-So this is the work of a… of a…?”

“Of a serial killer, I’m afraid,” his superior completes, rubbing his chin. He grabs the photograph where the word seems to smirk at them, his hand shaking. “Dammit.”

Midoriya realises their office is cramped with people, police officers whispering nervously, detectives shaking their head with closed eyes, clerks covering their mouth in horror. He feels out of place as he takes in their expression, all grim and aghast, while he feels nothing but numbness. Where did his previous elation go? Perhaps Tomura’s words impacted him more than Midoriya would like to admit.

“We must stay calm,” the Chief announces to all of them. “What we’re going through is troubling. It’s normal to be shaken at first but we mustn’t let it destroy us. This isn’t the first case we encountered involving Pro Heroes being targeted. If we must, then I’ll assign another team to assist Tsukauchi’s to solve this case but we’re definitely going to solve it and put this criminal behind bars.”

His speech was rewarded with vigorous nods and a few bashful claps. Most of the crowd dissipate, their mind a little more at ease and their resolve strengthened, while Tsukauchi’s team lingers. Tsuragamae doesn’t offer them any more word of advice before leaving but he did nod at them. Whether it’s to encourage them or it holds another meaning, Midoriya doesn’t know.

Tsukauchi puts the picture back on the table, inspecting his members. His eyes settle on Midoriya last and Midoriya wonders what he sees. A Quirkless, naive rookie, surely. Then again, it was the detective who told him the words he longed to hear, although they were a few years late and lacked the promise of becoming a true Pro Hero. If anyone had faith in his potential, no matter how limited because of his Quirklessness, and trusted his observation skills, then it was Tsukauchi Naomasa.

“Everyone, you heard Chief Tsuragamae. I won’t hide that it will be tough. This office will become our second home for the next days, weeks or months depending of how long it’ll take to solve these murders. Can I count on you?”

Everyone nods, Midoriya’s nod being the shyest. Still, Tsukauchi doesn’t point it out and organises the photographs on the table. The two pictures that caused the most controversy were in the middle, surrounded by the other images.

“Our criminal even received his baptism by the media because of these two pictures you see. The Judge, he’s called. He may judge Elemental Armor and Native guilty, but he, too, will have to be judged once we’ll catch him.”

The police officers return to their desk and Midoriya’s about to follow suit when Tsukauchi beckons him to come over. Midoriya obeys, wondering if Tsukauchi’s Quirk had activated with that shy nod. Can it be that Tsukauchi’s Quirk allows him to tell when someone’s lying even when said someone doesn’t open the mouth and speak?

“Midoriya, among us you’re the most knowledgeable concerning Pro Heroes. I want you to make a list of Heroes with fire-related Quirks and narrow it down to a list of possible suspects.”

Midoriya hides his relief by a curt nod. “Yes sir but if I may, that concerns only Native’s murder. Shimomura’s didn’t involve fire.”

“Everyone can kill someone using a knife and a good swing of baseball bat. Fire, however, is another matter. A fire expert will come tomorrow to inspect the crime scene.”

“Fire expert?”

Tsukauchi leans closer, whispering, “Do you know Pro Hero Endeavor, Midoriya-kun?”

Midoriya’s brain reels. Todoroki Enji known as Pro Hero Endeavor corresponds to Entry # 5 in his first notebook. While he’s heard lots about the Hero’s rather gruff nature, Endeavor’s still the one who arrested the most criminals. He also doesn’t have any page on Midoriya’s website since his services towards society are welcomed, having saved countless lives.

“He’s going to come here?”

Tsukauchi’s conspiratorial smile droops. “Well he… He can make a detour to the office for you.”

Midoriya’s lips draw a thin line. He should know better than to expect Endeavor to visit a silly office for a rookie who isn’t even fit to be sent on the field. According to interviews and articles on the Pro Hero, he isn’t one to please fans by popping up to surprise them. Instead, he’d rather say they have to work harder if they want to be worthy of his presence.

“That’s alright, sir. I don’t mind.”

“You’re lying, Midoriya-kun.”

Midoriya looks away, grumbling, “My apologies, sir.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault, really, I should’ve thought about that…”

Their conversation dwindles down, silenced by both men’s uneasiness. Midoriya eventually clears his throat, eyes darting on anything that isn’t his superior.

“I’ll go work on that list, sir.”

“Midoriya-kun...”

There’s remorse in that voice but Midoriya ignores him and goes to his desk. His computer background of a plain black colour stares back at him. He feels like he’s staring at an abyss.

The Judge, uh?

Midoriya shakes his head and gets to work.

“The Judge claimed two victims—”

“Chief Tsuragamae Kenji of the Police Force stated that—”

“—unknown who are the Judge’s targets—”

“Is there a channel that doesn’t talk about the Judge?” Midoriya Inko sighs, pressing once more on the television remote. “It’s all we hear nowadays.”

She ends up muting the television still playing a news channel, busying herself with slicing cabbage. Midoriya watches what became in a matter of hours one of Japan’s most viewed pictures, the one throning on Tsukauchi’s mind map in the office, pinned against the board just above the coffee machine. Midoriya sees it every day when he pours himself coffee. To be honest, it hasn’t changed must since its creation.

“I don’t mind hearing about it.”

Inko looks up to the bloody inscription and shivers, her mouth twisting in a grimace of disgust. Midoriya knows his mother doesn’t like the sight of blood although she can tolerate it. He’s come back home multiple times with scrapes on the knees or cuts on his face that needed bandages. She always tended to them, always asking the same question of who hurt him and always receiving the same answer that Midoriya fell like the clumsy, Quirkless being he was.

“Izuku, you spent the entire week cloistered in your office cramming your head with information on this Judge. A little change shouldn’t hurt.”

As if to prove her point, she takes the remote and switches channel, falling on a cooking contest already halfway finished. She doesn’t seem to mind as she increases the volume, listening with one ear at the master chiefs commenting on the participants’ mistakes, their critics more and more severe the longer the show runs.

“This isn’t much different than work,” Midoriya mumbles to himself.

He resumes to watching the episode, almost as bored as when he works in the office. The contestants present their plate to the chiefs, a little fidgety as they indicate their main course and their dessert. Once every plate was tasted, the judges head back to their room and sit down, discussing the lack of balance in their flavours, the dullness of some meals, the undercooked meat and even the desserts’ unoriginality.

“His meal lacked of salt,” one of the chiefs declares, to which the two others nod their agreement.

“They’re looking for salt? Well they can find their salt in the contestants’ tears.”

“Izuku,” his mother gasps.

“Look at them,” Midoriya urges, pointing at the screen that now shows the participants’ room where some of them are panicking and crying. “There’s their salt.”

Inko doesn’t counter him, putting the shredded cabbage in silence. Midoriya keeps watching but doesn’t feel any excitement in learning who in the participants will be spared and who will have to pack their bags and leave. He wonders if any of them are Quirkless.

“Did something happen at work?”

“No, everything’s fine.” I’m just making sure not to get caught by my coworkers because I’m the killer they’re searching for, the usual, you know. “Why are you asking me this?”

“You seem a little off. Not a lot but enough for me to notice. It must be that Judge case stressing you. It’d stress me as well. If you feel that your work’s straining you, perhaps you should—”

“I’m fine, okaasan.” Perhaps his answer is a little harsher than usual. It can’t be helped, so he sighs and rises. “How about I cook the pork tonight?”

“Izuku, you don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Did you prepare the panko?”

She appears flustered but steps asides, “I did.”

They switch places, Inko going to sit on the couch while Midoriya proceeds to cutting the extra fat on their piece of meat. He slits the remaining fat layer, knowing the pork would shrink and curl up without them. Midoriya wonders if slashing Shimomura’s back had been as easy as cutting the meat like he’s doing, the knife sinking as if into butter.

“If anything happened, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Midoriya looks up from the pork, frowning at his mother’s question. “Of course.”

“Because I feel like you’re distancing yourself from me. I know you’re busy with the Police Force and all but I… I worry about you constantly.”

“I know, okaasan, but you don’t have to worry,” Midoriya assures as he grabs the meat pounder.

I’m enough.

He brings down the instrument on the pork.

He wonders if that’s the sound Shimomura’s skull made when it got fractured.

He’s not sure he wants to know.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE

Hunted

“A man cannot always be estimated by what he does. He may keep the law, and yet be worthless. He may break the law, and yet be fine. He may be bad, without ever doing anything bad. He may commit a sin against society, and yet realise through that sin his true perfection.”
— Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism

He doesn’t understand why Kurogiri’s Warp Gate appears in front of his bed at two in the morning but it wakes up Midoriya immediately. He gapes at the portal before snapping out of his shock, picking random clothes and dressing up quickly. Once he’s engulfed in the dark, swirling fog, he’s teleported in the League of Villains’ headquarters.

He stumbles out of the Warp Gate, glad he had time to digest his dinner or else it would’ve come out of his mouth. A little green, he looks up to Kurogiri who’s bowing his head.

“Greetings, Midoriya.”

“Greetings, Kurogiri,” he answers, uncertain. He doesn’t see Tomura anywhere which alerts him. Does the League’s leader even know Midoriya’s here? “Why the sudden rush?”

“It’s time for you to meet your agents.”

Agents. So Shimomura and Native were killed by two different people.

It’s a formidable revelation but was expected. One murder was too gory while the other lacked of any blood. It’s too bad Midoriya isn’t as loyal as Tsukauchi towards the Police Force.

Agents. Does this mean they answer to me before the League?

Well, Kurogiri merely employed the term Midoriya himself uses when he sends his death sentence to the selected Heroes. He calls them ‘agents’, although he never met them in person and doesn’t even know their name or their Quirk. He assumes they have a Quirk.

Across from him, Kurogiri’s expression is as inscrutable as always, his yellow, unblinking eyes waiting for his reaction.

“I’m ready,” Midoriya tells him.

Kurogiri nods, his Warp Gate materialising a few feet away from Midoriya. The latter curses himself for choosing random clothes, wondering what his agents would think of someone wearing an All Might hoodies and baggy grey shorts along with mismatched neon-coloured socks. He gulps, discerning two silhouettes ambling in his direction, one of the two taller than the other, taller than Midoriya now that he thinks about it.

He doesn’t what to expect. The tall one is male, with spiky jet black hair and most peculiar purple marks around his neck, following his jawline to his mouth, his arms down to his wrists and also weighing down his half-lidded eyes. The other is female, with blond hair styled into messy buns, flushed cheeks and wearing an oversized cardigan covering a typical Japanese sailor uniform.

“Oh, is that him, the Judge?” She squeals, bouncing over to Midoriya who fights against the urge to step back. Up close, he notices her amber eyes are like a cat’s with vertical pupils. “Isn’t he just—?”

“Ordinary,” her companion notes, also approaching Midoriya but slower, his steps measured and his eyes scrutinising him. “We were told you’re the Judge.”

“I am.”

The words are out of his mouth without any hesitation. Midoriya’s surprised to see how easy it is to recognise himself as responsible for two Pro Heroes’ murder. He can in the man’s eyes that he too is impressed by Midoriya’s assurance. The girl, however, leaps on him and catches his neck around her arms, making them twirl around.

“Tell me, Judge, did you like my artwork? I painted the entire house with his blood!”

“Your work lacked of finesse,” the man comments before Midoriya can answer.

“What was that? Because a charred body’s much more beautiful than crimson flowers?”

“At least my kill didn’t leave me covered in blood.”

“That’s why I don’t like you. You never want to dirty your hands.”

The man’s orbs light up with a dangerous glint. “You little—”

“You two did an excellent job.”

They freeze, turning to face him. Midoriya meets their gaze without flinching. In fact, he feels like swelling in pride for having agents. He’ll have to thank Kurogiri for providing him these two. Although they seem like polar opposites, they’re able to carry out Midoriya’s plans and that’s all it really matters in the end.

“The name’s Dabi,” the man breaks the silence, extending a slender hand.

His nails are crusted with a black substance, maybe ashes. Midoriya tries not to stare too much at the rudimentary stitches separating the wrinkled skin from the smooth. Before he can properly take Dabi’s hand, the girl grabs Midoriya’s and shakes it with zeal, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m Toga Himiko. I hope we’ll able to kill someone together one day.”

Her shaking is so eager that Midoriya’s convinced she’ll tear his entire arm off. “Y-Yeah.”

“Dabi, Toga,” Kurogiri’s deep voice calls them, “this is—”

“They don’t need to know my real name. The Judge will suffice.”

He’s conscious the ones who kill for him and in his stead deserve to know his name but Midoriya doesn’t trust either of them. He can’t trust them before he knows why they accepted to kill the selected Pro Heroes.

Trust goes both ways.

Midoriya’s well aware of that. He doesn’t need an inner Tsukauchi to tell him this.

“Why the Judge?”

While hiding his identity doesn’t seem to bother Toga, Dabi’s scrutinising him as if trying to find the breach Midoriya’s barriers. He’s one to talk. Midoriya’s certain ‘Dabi’ isn’t his real name but he knows better than to prod. If one hides his identity, it’s rarely only for aesthetic purposes.

“Are you asking me why I’m the Judge or why I judge Pro Heroes?”

“It’s the same thing, really,” Dabi notes.

Midoriya allows himself to smirk. “You’re right. I judge Heroes when they failed to accomplish their duty. Shimomura Kai because he failed his duty to rescue and Yamazaki Hayato because he failed his duty to act. To be worthy to call yourself a Hero, then you must act like one.”

“So you say not all Heroes have to be culled?”

“That’s Tomura’s way. Although lots of Heroes nowadays appear to take their responsibilities lightly, some show devotion and selflessness.”

“How noble of you to burden yourself with such a task.”

Midoriya isn’t sure what Dabi meant, or perhaps he chooses to ignore it. Dabi’s testing him, taunting him with an implicit provocation: Who is he, Midoriya Izuku, to question Pro Heroes? As someone’s who Quirkless yet dreams of becoming a Pro Hero, he knows more than anyone that life is ironic. Giving powers to those who aren’t worthy of them while stripping people who deserve recognition from any is the greatest lesson Midoriya learned from life’s cruelty.

If no ones does anything, then the cycle will never be broken.

Next to them, Toga rolls her eyes as she flops on Tomura’s couch. “You guys are so serious. It’s all too complicated, really. I know a way to relax—”

“It surely involves some massacre,” Dabi snorts.

The two began bickering on which way was the best to kill someone but Midoriya didn’t listen to their chatter. He wrote multiple books about Pro Heroes, their Quirk, their strengths and weaknesses, even some information on their costume. He was praising them in those notebooks, but this time’s ended. He’s the Judge now. Shouldn’t he write down what defines a Pro Hero?

“Judge,” Dabi calls once more. “Who’s next?”

“Never mind who’s next. When’s next? I wanna spill some blood,” Toga whines.

“If I may, I have a request.”

Dabi’s face is closed but his eyes are smouldering. Midoriya’s glad he’s on his side even if their alliance is fragile. Still, as the Judge and even more aware of his own responsibilities, he can’t make exceptions for everyone.

Tomura said it himself. A judge must be impartial.

“If he failed his duty, then yes.”

The villain sneered, visibly unsatisfied by his answer, “You keep on talking about this Pro Hero’s duty but what is it, really? Do you even have a plan?”

Midoriya doesn’t miss a beat although his heart does. “Of course.”

“And what is it?”

“I’ll… judge them all.”

“So Tomura was right. It is pest control.”

“You spoke to Tomura?”

“A few words only. He warned me about your utopian views. You have no plan, Judge, no control. Can you even perform the duty you charged yourself with if you were alone?”

Midoriya refuses to fall in such a blatant trap, retorting, “But I have you.”

“No, you don’t. I won’t kill for someone who has no idea where he’s going.”

Dabi turns away, hands tucked in his pockets. Midoriya feels like his very being’s slipping. He hates to admit it but Dabi’s right. Without agents, he’s back to being useless.
“I know exactly where I’m going,” he shouts, cursing himself for his outburst that shows anything but a cool leader’s behaviour. “I—”

“If you want me to work with you, you’ll have to prove yourself. You judge Pro Heroes and all that, but who judges you in the end?”

Dabi doesn’t look back as he leaves, everyone staring at him until the door clicks shut. Midoriya looks at Toga, praying that she wouldn’t abandon him. Her smile hasn’t faded, but her expression’s calculating, a light dancing in his eyes. Midoriya doesn’t have any trouble imagining her grinning like this in front of Shimomura Kai’s body.

“Don’t tell me you never had a corpse party.”

“I…”

She shoots forward, her nails raking Midoriya’s left cheek. It isn’t a slap, much more a scratching gesture that leaves three brilliant cuts on his flesh, thin rivulets dripping from the injury. Midoriya’s too shaken to move as Toga brings her bloodied fingers to her lips. Now that he watches her tongue swiping the blood, he realises he has no idea what her Quirk is.

“You taste good,” she lets out after a moment, “but it’s too sweet.”

She trots to the exit, still licking her fingertips. Midoriya brings a hesitant hand to cup his cheek, stopping the blood from dripping on his shirt. Toga doesn’t seem any different from before she tasted his blood and Midoriya doesn’t feel any change either. Perhaps her Quirk acts after a certain period of time, or perhaps she didn’t get enough blood for her Quirk to activate?

Whatever it is, she flashes a toothy grin, waving her hand.

“See ya later, Judge.”

Then she’s gone.

“So they rejected you.”

Midoriya whips around, noticing Tomura’s shadowed silhouette leaning against the wall. Behind the bar counter, Kurogiri’s shaking his head.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see your career as Judge coming to an end sooner than you expected.”

“It’s not over yet,” Midoriya growls.

“Oh?” Tomura walks out of the shadow in his direction, his head tilted on the side. “So you’ll kill your victims yourself?”

“They’re not victims. They’re the guilty.”

“You’re evading the question, kozo. Who’s going to kill your guilty, then?”

“I’ll find a way.”

He has to. He can’t let blundering fools call themselves Pro Heroes when it’s so obvious they’re disregarding civilians. He can’t let them be Heroes when he himself can’t. However, finding villains who agree with his perspective isn’t an easy task. Midoriya needs a tribune. He needs to call them, to invite them, to pull them towards him since they won’t come by themselves.

“You’re running away. No one’s going to respect a leader who doesn’t understand their struggles.”

Midoriya ignores Tomura’s comment, rather focusing on Kurogiri. “Take me back home, Kurogiri.”

“As you wish.”

Before Midoriya can step inside the Warp Gate, Tomura’s bony fingers curl around his hood.

“Kozo, you have blood on your shirt.”

Before he knows it, Tomura’s Quick activates. Midoriya tenses, convinced Tomura’s had enough and decided to kill him, but his Decay only eats away All Might’s grinning face, disintegrating the whole hoodie and leaving Midoriya’s torso bare.

“It had a horrible design anyway,” Tomura grumbles, shooing Midoriya away.

The billboard in Tsukauchi’s team’s office is already drowned under papers even if the investigation started only a few days ago. Midoriya’s eyes roam over the mind map, memorising every single detail found about the two murders.

Shimomura Kai died of blood loss, although what really killed him like Tsukauchi told the medias is the repetitive blows to the head from the back resulting in a skull fracture. His back was slashed so much it was a mess of crisscrossing lines, blood seeping from the gashes to pool around his torso. His eyes were open, glassy, and his mouth agape as if in a silent scream.

As for Yamazaki Hayato, there isn’t much to recognise him. With his dental records, the Police Force was able to identify him as Pro Hero Native. His entire body was charred and devoured by the flames, revealing a few bones where the fire intensely damaged the body. Pictures of Yamazaki’s house were also pinned to the board, with overturn furniture, soot blackening the walls and the front door with the knob busted, spitting volutes of smoke.

Tsukauchi had added post-its above some photographs, asking questions to ponder on and things amiss with the scenes. The two ‘guilty’ pictures linking the murders were surrounded by post-its, the detective’s scribbling almost undecipherable.

Criminal’s motive?

Guilty of what?

Pro Heroes = victims?

“We’re back, Midoriya-kun,” Tamakawa’s voice calls from afar, startling him.

Midoriya hurries back to his seat, taking a deep breath. Even if there’s nothing wrong with checking the mind map, Midoriya doesn’t want to face Tsukauchi who’ll probably ask him what he thinks about the case and with his Quirk, one misstep and it can be all over.

Tsukauchi and the rest of the team enter, looking quite grim. Grim’s become the default expression in the office.

“What happened? Did Endeavor find anything?”

“Endeavor didn’t come,” Tsukauchi sighs, stopping in front the mind map and glaring daggers at it. “He got another case.”

“More important than ours?” Midoriya murmurs, irritation threatening to betray his reserved facade. Is the Judge case, his case, so petty that it can be shrugged aside? “But what about the fire expert’s consultation?”

One of the police officers eyes Tsukauchi, answering, “We’ll contact him tomorrow.”

“So we wasted a day?”

“We did not.”

The detective rips the two photographs from the mind map, holding each of them in his hands. Even from afar, Midoriya can see they’re shaking.

“Endeavor can’t come tomorrow either, Watanabe. His case might take a week or more and we can’t afford to wait.”

“There’s his son,” Tamakawa points out.

Tsukauchi stills. “His son. Why didn’t I think about this before? Watanabe, contact Endeavor’s son. Ask him to come now.”

“Now? But chief, the day’s over—”

“Yes, the day’s over but not our case. Overtime never killed anyone.”

Watanabe hesitates, glancing at his colleagues around him. It’s evident that they’re all tired and want nothing more than going home, take a shower, eat food and then head to bed to drop asleep on it. Even Tamakawa who normally seconds Tsukauchi’s words remains silent.

“What Tsukauchi-san wants to say,” Midoriya intervenes, “is that your participation is welcomed. He understands, however, that you have a family, a wife and perhaps children to go home to. If you want to go to them, it’s alright for tonight, but you should warn them about overtime. If you’re not ready to make this sacrifice, then I suggest that you remove yourself from the investigation team.”

The officers look relieved as they exit one by one, wishing them good evening and luck for the investigation. Only Tamakawa stayed behind along with Midoriya, both of them avoiding Tsukauchi’s irate expression.

“Tell me, Midoriya-kun, do you want this investigation to fail?”

“Sir, Midoriya-kun only wanted to help. Everyone was tired and since they know how hard it’ll be, we’ll be able to gather a smaller team, yes, but more devoted to the case than before. I’m not even sure Todoroki will be available at this hour.”

“It can’t be this late,” Tsukauchi snaps.

“It’s ten thirty-five, sir,” Midoriya whispers.

“Call him anyway, Midoriya-kun,” Tamakawa tells him. “Tsukauchi won’t stop.”

Said detective’s pinning the photographs back on the board, grabbing a stack of post-its and tearing the first on top. He sticks with so much force that the entire map trembled. Midoriya edges away from his superior, grasping the phone as Tamakawa hands him a phone number.

“I didn’t know he was so accessible.”

“He isn’t. That’s his Hero Office’s number.”

The numbers are ones he doesn’t recognise. He thought it’d be natural that Endeavor’s son would work with his father, but Midoriya has memorised Endeavor Hero Office’s number and the one on the sheet doesn’t correspond. Perhaps even Endeavor’s son himself can’t tolerate the Pro Hero’s rumoured abruptness?

Midoriya dials the number, sensing both Tamakawa and Tsukauchi staring at him. He knows he can’t make a mistake, not now that he sent everyone home and that Tsukauchi’s about to get him off the case because of it. Midoriya half-expects the call to redirect him to an automatic voicemail but instead a husky voice answers him.

“Yes?”

For a second, Midoriya isn’t sure he got the right number. Perhaps his thumb slipped and hit a wrong button? He stares at the glowing screen and yet it seems he didn’t make.
The man on the other line clears his throat and asks a very forced, “How may I help you?”

“Am I talking to Todoroki...?”

Midoriya realises he doesn’t even know his first name. He glances sideways at his superiors, seeking their help, but they both shrug. How can they all call themselves police officers if they don’t even know a person’s full name?

“Depends,” the voice rumbles. “Which one you want?”

“The son.”

“Then you’re talking to the good person. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Midoriya Izuku. I’m working with the Police Force concerning the Judge’s case.” The line stays silent so Midoriya continues, “As you may know, one of the Judge’s two victims was burned alive. We’re currently looking for a fire expert to examine the victim’s body and to draw their conclusion on the circumstances surrounding the victim’s death.”

Midoriya can feel Todoroki musing on the other side, considering the opportunity.

“And my father refused such a case?”

“H-He accepted another one before…”

“I see.” Tsukauchi’s eyebrows are rising, inquisitive, and Midoriya shrugs. “I accept your proposition. When do you want me to come?”

“Is right now possible? If not, then you can—”

Midoriya yelps when Tsukauchi wrestles the phone out of his hands, bringing it to his ear. “If not, come anyway. Go to the crime scene directly. I’ll tell you the address.”

Midoriya rises from his seat, giving the detective more space. The latter doesn’t waste time and settle on the vacant seat, giving directions to the Pro Hero. When Tsukauchi hangs up, he grins at them, half of his face catching the light and giving him a manic expression.

“We got ourselves a fire expert.”

“Then let’s go,” Tamakawa declares.

Midoriya watches them gathering their pad and coat. He sinks on his seat, clenching his jaw, and swivels to face his computer so his superiors can’t catch a glimpse of his wishfulness. The clock at the bottom of his screen indicates it’s near eleven o’clock. Somehow, Midoriya doesn’t feel any fatigue.

“Midoriya-kun,” Tamakawa calls, “aren’t you coming?”

He spins around instantly. They’re standing on the threshold, Tsukauchi adjusting his hat as Tamakawa slips in his boots. Midoriya blinks but none of them are telling him it’s a joke and chortling because he fell for it. It looks like asking him to go to the crime scene’s the most natural thing to do.

“I’m allowed to?”

The police officer elbows Tsukauchi, “He can come, can’t he?”

The detective doesn’t even glance at Midoriya, rather leaving the room as he declares, “Make up your mind, Midoriya-kun, because we’re leaving now.”

Midoriya’s never bolted out of his seat towards the exit this fast.

When they reach the crime scene, Todoroki is already present. He’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of Yamazaki’s house, hands tucked in his pockets and his hood shadowing his face. He perks up when the three of them approach him.

“Good evening Todoroki-san and thank you for your receptivity.”

“No problem.”

They duck under the yellow tapes surrounding the house, walking to the door that isn’t a door, really, but a plank of wood to replace the gaping hole. The house’s plunged in darkness and Midoriya’s hands follow the wall, searching for a switch. Tsukauchi, however, takes out his phone and uses his flashlight.

“The power’s off,” he explains. “We found the wires completely melted.”

“May I see them?”

“Of course.”

Tsukauchi leads them all to the next room, as dark as the other. He holds his phone above an opened grey power panel box displaying wires of red, blue and green welded in the metal in a tight knot. Todoroki reaches for them but Tamakawa catches his hand.

“Gloves first. We don’t want to contaminate possible evidence.”

The Hero nods, putting the latex gloves the police officer was handing to him. As he brings his hand closer to the wires, his flames flare to life. Midoriya squints at the sudden light, watching as the fire disintegrates the latex gloves and curls around the wires.

“Todoroki-san!” Tsukauchi gasps, aghast.

But Todoroki doesn’t pull away, his eyes narrowing down. He controls his flames with a surgical precision, cutting the wires without creating wild sparks that would set the other circuits and fuses afire. He tears them out, examining the smoking wires in his palm.

“Show me where he was killed.” Tsukauchi has the time to take one step before Todoroki adds, “You can save your battery, Detective.”

Fireballs erupt from the Hero’s left palm, swirling and floating in the air. One of them hovers near Midoriya, its warmth caressing his face. He looks back at Todoroki whose face glows in his fire’s light. Somehow, Midoriya’s gaze always strays to his eyes, not because of the scar marring his left side but because of his heterochromia that makes one orb blue and the other, grey. The Pro Hero doesn’t meet his eyes.

In fact, he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

They move back to the hallway and this time, Midoriya notices the chalk outline symbolising Yamazaki’s dead body. Todoroki crouches down, hands clasped together.

“Who found him?”

“His neighbour, a woman in her thirties. Married, one child, working as a secretary,” Tsukauchi recites. “It was around nine in the morning. According to our analysis, Yamazaki died between six and seven o’clock in the morning. We questioned if she…”

Tsukauchi’s voice falters as Todoroki holds his hand in the air. His eyes are sweeping the ground, halting on every corner, taking in every detail.

“What was the victim’s Quirk?”

“Ecological Empathy,” Midoriya answers instantly. “Yamazaki was in sync with his immediate environment. He had a psychic bond with nature physically as well as emotionally.”

Todoroki hums, one of his fire orbs hovering right above the floor to give him more light. His fingers graze the ashes and tentatively, he brings them to his nose.

“Was he able to use nature to defend himself?”

“According to my data, he couldn’t. He could only sense the overall wellbeing and conditions of all biomes yet couldn’t ask them for help. His natural affinity was so strong that natural disasters could affect his health negatively.”

Todoroki glances over his shoulder and Midoriya freezes and burns at the same time. The eye contact breaks as soon as it’s started, Todoroki staring at the ground once more.

“You’re the one who called, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know a lot about the victim.”

Midoriya tenses, letting out a nervous chuckle. “It’s my job.”

“I see.”

Todoroki spends a few more minutes exploring the house, Tsukauchi trailing after him like an overprotective mother hen while Midoriya and Tamakawa follow from a respectable distance. It’s almost past midnight when Todoroki declares he’s seen enough.

“I’ll send you my report tomorrow, Detective.”

“Please come to the office, Todoroki-san. I’d like to talk to you also about Shimomura’s murder.”

Todoroki remains emotionless although his tone has a hint of confusion. “I don’t see how I can help you.”

“I heard a lot about you. From All Might.”

At the Pro Hero’s mention, Todoroki straightens. Something sparks in his eyes, giving them the light they were missing earlier as he surveyed the crime scene.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow then.”

Tsukauchi bows, thanking him, and Midoriya and Tamakawa mirror him. While the police officers get in Tsukauchi’s car, Todoroki declines their offer to lift him and walks away.

“You seem satisfied, Tsukauchi,” Tamakawa notes.

“The hunt’s begun, Tamakawa. It’s only a matter of time.”

Midoriya assumes if he should be concerned but he feels nothing but numbness. In the rearview he catches Todoroki’s silhouette fading as they drive away.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR

Trusted

“When there is evil in this world that justice cannot defeat, would you taint your hands with evil to defeat evil? Or would you remain steadfast and righteous even if it means surrendering to evil?”
— Lelouch Lamperouge, Code Geass
 

Midoriya didn’t waste time and researched Todoroki Shouto once he got home. While his father was notorious and its accomplishments, numerous, there wasn’t much about the younger Todoroki. One article mentioned he denied Endeavor’s request to work as his sidekick and created his own office. The other information about the Pro Hero was on Yuuei’s website in the alumni section: Todoroki Shouto, graduation from Yuuei one year ago.

Midoriya couldn’t help but think he could’ve graduated from Yuuei at the same time if life had blessed him with a Quirk. Who knows, maybe they could’ve been classmates?

“You’re distracted today, Midoriya-kun,” Tamakawa notes, elbowing him in the back with so much force that Midoriya drops the files he was holding.

“I’m sorry, Tamakawa-san. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Tsukauchi bends down to help him gather the papers and while his help is welcomed, his comment makes Midoriya bristle. “That’s why we shouldn’t have brought you at Yamazaki’s yesterday.”

“Detective Tsukauchi.”

Midoriya looks up to Todoroki knocking on the threshold. He shoots up on his feet, almost dropping his files once more, as Tsukauchi approaches their new collaborator.

“Todoroki-san, thank you for coming.”

Todoroki doesn’t answer, his eyes roaming in their office. Even if Midoriya doesn’t have anything to do with the decoration, he feels self-conscious. Still, the walls are barren safe for Tsukauchi’s growing mind map and their furniture’s bulky, making it hard to move around. There isn’t much personality that can be seen through pictures in frames, post-its from loved ones or homemade bentos lingering in their office.

Midoriya just watches his own desk and feels his cheeks burning. Beside piles of documents he has yet to classify and analyse is a dried plant. Its leaves are brown, shrivelled, curving towards the ground. The solid earth’s fissured and if anyone touches it, it’d crumble down. Even if Midoriya gave it nutrients, the plant wouldn’t survive. It’s far too gone.

Just like the Judge.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you for the first time, Todoroki-san. All Might told me a lot about you.”

“Did he?” Unlike yesterday, nothing flickers in his eyes. “What did he say?”

“Lots of compliments. That reminds me…” Tsukauchi takes out a letter from his trench coat’s pocket, handing it to the Pro Hero. “He wants you to have this.”

If Midoriya had been the one receiving such a treasure, he would’ve framed it in his bedroom and worshipped it. Instead, Todoroki stares at it with an inscrutable expression. Midoriya almost winces as he observes him folding the letter in four, then burying it in his pockets.

Even Tsukauchi seems uneasy, asking, “You’re not reading it?”

“I came here to deliver my report. His letter will wait.”

His report consists of a single page devoid of any heading or signature. Tsukauchi takes the sheet, frowning, and Todoroki spins on his heels. Instinctively, the detective grasps his shoulder before he can take a step towards the exit.

“Todoroki-san, where you are going?”

“I gave you my report as planned so I’m leaving.”

“But All Might—”

“I don’t care about All Might,” Todoroki snaps.

There’s something wrong, so wrong that even a so-called detective like Tsukauchi could notice it. The detective, however, doesn’t let go of Todoroki’s coat. Midoriya eyes them both carefully, remarking the tension building in the Pro Hero’s shoulders and how Tsukauchi’s fingers curl more tightly around the fabric, unyielding.

“I’m sorry, Todoroki-san, but I told him you were coming.”

Todoroki’s eyes flare. “You what?”

He yanks himself free and takes out All Might’s letter. Everyone pretends not to listen but Midoriya can see the glances they sneak in their direction. Not much is known about Todoroki Shouto except that he’s Endeavor’s son, but everyone assumes that as Endeavor’s son he possesses the same intense rivalry his father has with the Number One Hero, All Might.

“You see this letter?” Todoroki waits for Tsukauchi’s nod before activating his Quirk, the flames engulfing the paper. He lets the ashes fall on the floor, reminiscent of those powdering Yamazaki’s house. “Whatever he wants to tell me, I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s a lie.”

The sentence doesn’t come out from Tsukauchi’s mouth but Midoriya’s. Todoroki’s smouldering eyes dart on him, and it reminds him of Tomura’s eyes glaring from a distance.
“What did you say?”

Midoriya shudders at the threatening tone and swallows. “You didn’t want to come at the office yesterday, but when Tsukauchi-san mentioned All Might you changed your mind. You want to meet All Might, or rather you wanted to. What changed overnight?”

This time, Todoroki’s eyes are sweeping the room as if looking for an exit. They stop their shifting all of sudden, fixing themselves on a spot behind Midoriya. The latter turns around to see All Might himself. His smile’s plastered on his lips, but after countless hours of watching every video related to the Symbol of Peace, Midoriya knows its light is dimmed.

“Todoroki-shonen.”

Todoroki doesn’t meet his gaze, his voice barely a whisper as he replies, “Sensei.”

All Might lets out a hearty laugh but it sounds false to Midoriya’s ears. “I’m not your sensei anymore, Todoroki-shonen, but I’m glad to see you still respect me.”

Todoroki, however, adjusts his coat and heads towards the Pro Hero while avoiding any eye contact with All Might. “I was about to leave.”

“Did you read my letter?”

But Todoroki already slipped away, like shadows running away from the light. Midoriya, for once, isn’t captivated by All Might. His mind’s churning, trying to piece Todoroki’s actions together in a coherent string. He’s missing data.

He hates missing data.

“Midoriya-shonen, wasn’t it?”

His attention’s drawn to the Symbol of Peace. The Hero remembers his name? It’s too real to be true. Tsukauchi must’ve complained to All Might about Midoriya’s incompetency. There’s no way he’d be remembered as something other than trivial, than expendable, than—

“You were the one who saved the little girl back then.”

Midoriya blinks. “I… was.”

“Our paths never crossed afterwards, so I never had time to give you this.”

He hands him a tiny handmade drawing. The word ‘arigatou’ is written in shaky hiragana characters, obviously dictated, and covered with glitters. There are two stick figures holding hands: one with messy green hair that looks more like a horn’s nest that surely represents Midoriya’s and the other with a pink triangle as a dress. What strikes him is the words ‘watashi no hiiro’ with an arrow pointing to his figure.

“I met her a few days after. She was on her way to the precinct, actually.”

“What’s her name?”

“Nishimura Saki. She’s six years old and because of you, she’ll live for many other years.”

Midoriya eyes Tsukauchi, almost daring him to say Midoriya’s been rash when he saved the girl and that his action was praised by All Might. The detective doesn’t meet his gaze and remains silent. It’s childish, really, to be so smug about something like this. No one should brag about saving a life. It’s logic to save a life. It shouldn’t even require thinking. Those who save for something else than this should… be judged.

“Did Todoroki-shonen read the letter?”

Tsukuchi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “He burned it.”

“I see. It’s better this way. I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the way it turned out.”

The detective shakes his head, inquiring, “How many drafts this time?”

“Seven.”

Midoriya almost chokes in his own saliva. He never would’ve thought that All Might, the All Might who always smiles and saves the day, would feel this insecure when writing to someone. One or two drafts might be alright, healthy, but seven?

“You’re desperate, Toshinori,” Tsukauchi chuckles, voicing Midoriya’s thoughts. “Now do you have anything new to tell me?”

“Nothing for now. I’ll keep you updated.”

The Pro Hero leaves as unexpectedly as he’s come inside, flashing one last smile to the police officers before vanishing. Midoriya glues Nishimura’s drawing next to his computer, smiling at how bright his desk has become. On the other side, his dried plant loses another leaf.

“Did you finish that list, Midoriya-kun?”

He turns around to see Tsukauchi’s heading towards him and freezes. “I-I almost finished it.”

The detective scowls. “Really?” Midoriya’s answer must’ve messed up his Quirk because he was telling a half truth. He finished listing the fire users but it wasn’t for Tsukauchi but for the Judge. “As soon as you’re done, I have another task for you. It’s concerning Todoroki.”

“Todoroki the son?”

“Yes, the son. I wouldn’t send you to his father because he’d eat you whole. Toshinori plans on writing another letter soon, or rather seven more at this rate. I’ll arrange a meeting with Todoroki where you’ll go and give it to Todoroki. You’ll have to make sure he reads it.”

“What’s so important that All Might wants to tell him?”

The question slips out of his mouth before he realises it. Tsukauchi, however, doesn’t glare at him or admonish him for sticking his nose where he shouldn’t. Instead he sighs, leaning on Midoriya’s desk and almost knocking off his dried plant.

“Toshinori and Todoroki, not only the son but also the father, have a rocky relationship. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that: this letter’s trying to clear things between them.”

Midoriya nods, thoughtful, “Alright, but why are you designing me to give the letter? Todoroki already met me and he knows I work with you, Tsukauchi-san. He’ll know it’s from All Might.”

“Perhaps but you caught his interest. Didn’t you see? Todoroki never opens his mouth unless he’s intrigued,” Tsukauchi reveals. “You’ll have more chance convincing him than us.”

He pats his shoulder before going back to his desk, the promise of meeting Todoroki once more tasting sweet in his mouth.

 “Too slow.”

Tsukauchi hits him in the abdomen in a chopping motion, expelling any air in Midoriya’s lung. The latter stumbles back, falling on his rear, as Tsukauchi grabs his collar, rising one fist in the air as if ready to collide it with his face.

“In a real fight, you wouldn’t last a minute. Now get up, we start over.”

Midoriya lets out a shuddering breath and forces his tired legs to support him. Grabbing his water bottle, he gulps it down, wiping his brow covered in sweat. He’s been training with Tsukauchi for hours, polishing his hand-to-hand fighting skills. Apparently, his footing and reflexes are good but he needs to work on his strength. His punches are weak, barely leaving a bruise wherever he hits, although he targets strategic areas.

“You start, Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi declares, his feet shifting in a stance now familiar to Midoriya. “Remember, use your surroundings as well.”

“We’re in a gymnasium. There’s nothing that can be used here.”

“There’s always something that can advantage you, but if your opponent seizes it before you do you’re falling behind. What you have to do is to notice it before they do.”

He’s always been observant but this was clairvoyance. “While fighting?”

“While fighting. Whenever you’re ready.”

Tsukauchi’s weakness is his speed. While the blows he delivers are devastating, it takes energy that needs to be recharged. Once he lunges, he lets himself practically unguarded and that’s when Midoriya needs to attack. Since Midoriya’s own strength is seemingly laughable, he needs to strike fast and relentlessly to tire him out. The trick’s that Midoriya mustn’t tire himself out before Tsukauchi and if the detective has one strong trait, it’s his endurance.

Midoriya sprints at Tsukauchi, his hands curling into fists. Tsukauchi dodges the first blow almost nonchalantly, both of his arms clasped in his back as he seems to dance as he evades Midoriya’s attacks. The latter only manages to graze Tsukauchi’s skin, not enough to leave a scratch.

“Concentrate, Midoriya-kun, concentrate.”

“I am,” he grumbles, his fist kicking the air where the detective was a moment ago.

“Elbow,” is the only warning he gets before Tsukauchi elbows him in the nose.

Midoriya shouts in both surprise and pain, hands flying to clutch his nose. He struggles to see Tsukauchi’s movements, his kicks coming faster to exploit Midoriya’s confused state. It’s only thanks to Midoriya’s reflexes that he manages to duck and sometimes ward off his superior’s punches. However, he’s swept off his feet by a well-aimed kick in the ankles.

“Use your knees.”

Midoriya brings them up instinctively, cutting Tsukauchi’s momentum as he lunges at him. He narrowly dodges the detective’s fist coming down towards his face.

“You have to get up.”

Tsukauchi’s leaning forwards as he speaks, challenging. Midoriya’s knees are shaking as they fight against the weight crushing them.

“But you’re pinning me—”

“You didn’t understand. Get up.”

Midoriya grits his teeth as he unfurls his legs, pushing Tsukauchi away. He scrambles to his feet, stumbling to the wall on which he leans on. He’s panting, eyeing his opponent who’s cracking his knuckles.

“You won’t always have breaks during a fight,” Tsukauchi warns him.

Midoriya sighs, straightening. That’s when he sees it. The light switch is a few inches away from his hands, an innocuous little thing that can tip the balance on his side if he uses it well.

Use your surroundings.

“It’s a double-edged sword.”

So Tsukauchi saw it too. Midoriya smiles, “I’m not planning on cutting myself.”

He flips it off. The gymnasium is plunged in darkness. Midoriya kicks his shoes off, knowing any squeaking sound can give away his location. He listens as he trails along the wall, one hand never leaving the wall. He knows Tsukauchi will either come forward or on the sides but not stab him in the back.

Midoriya blinks, hoping that his eyes accustom themselves to the darkness soon. He can’t distinguish anything in the gymnasium, not even a shade a little lighter than the surrounding pitch black. But seeing isn’t enough. He doubts he’ll be able to navigate in the darkness without any problems. He has to trust his instincts and to—

He misses Tsukauchi’s fist by a hair. He crouches down, grabbing the detective’s legs and pushing him down. They both stumble on the ground, Tsukauchi’s trapped legs kicking Midoriya’s chin. Midoriya has no choice but to release him, wincing as the detective’s feet connect with his stomach. He staggers backwards, arms spread wide and searching his opponent, his own breathing sounding laboured to his ears.

The lights flare to life, blinding both men. Midoriya rubs his eyes, squinting at Tamakawa who’s staring at them, his cat ears twitching atop his head.

“My apologies for interrupting your training session but you should see what we received.”

“Is about the Judge?”

“We’re not sure but we think so.”

Midoriya’s mouth is agape, his feet rooted where he is, while Tsukauchi hurries to the exit, disappearing with Tamakawa. His legs buckle underneath him and Midoriya sits down, wheezing. He’s alone, alone with his reflection in the mirror, both of them incredulous.

When Midoriya looks up, he doesn’t recognise the man sitting across him. Isn’t he supposed to be a deadly avenger? Then why is he sitting in a gymnasium, looking like the world just ended? Why isn’t he defending his values, defending his modus operandi, defending his name?

I am the Judge. No one else.

He joins Tsukauchi a few minutes later but everyone’s gathered in a circle around the conference table. Midoriya doesn’t dare peek around, rather sticking close to Tsukauchi’s gigantic mind map taking half of the wall, extending over the billboard.

“Someone go search Tsuragamae.”

Tamakawa nods and leaves the room. The other officers exchange concerned glances as they mumble to themselves, glaring at what lays on the table.

“It might be trapped.”

“Do you think it’s fake?”

“I wonder what’s written inside…”

“What’s going on here?” Tsuragamae barks as he barges inside.

Tsukauchi shows the letter with a gloved hand. The Chief edges closer and remains quiet for a moment before nodding. The detective takes the envelope, tearing it open cautiously, his eyes narrowing down as he rubs his fingertips against the paper. He brings it to his nose, sniffing, then shakes his head.

“It doesn’t seem drugged.”

“Continue, Tsukauchi,” Tsuragamae orders.

Tsukauchi unfolds the letter, reading in silence. Midoriya wants to rip the letter from his hands but contains himself, careful to hide his frustration. He rather transforms it into apprehension, nibbling his lower lip for good measure, and sending fleeting glances to his superiors.

“Apparently we’ve been selected.”

Midoriya’s blood turns cold.

“Selected?” Tsuragamae repeats. “What does it say?”

“Congratulations, Police Officers, you’ve been selected. Make sure your last days count.”

Tamakawa blinks, murmuring, “That’s all?”

That’s more than enough.

“Is it signed by the Judge?”

“No but...”

He flips the letter so it faces them. The two sentences are written in the middle of the page, centred, and typed with a cursive font. Below stands a smiley face painted with dried blood, a rivulet streaming from the curve of its smile rolling down to the edge of the paper.

“It isn’t ‘guilty’ but it’s blood. I want it analysed.”

“I’ll do it,” Midoriya shouts, one arm shooting in the air. “I’ll do it now.”

Before anyone can rebuke him, he grasps the letter from Tsukauchi’s hands and leaves the room. He doesn’t take the elevator, preferring to climb down the emergency stairs to reach the basement where the laboratories are located. He barges inside, ignoring some people’s protests about not wearing any safety goggles, gloves or a white laboratory coat.

He grabs a few instruments, sweeping away one corner of a table to settle down. His hands are trembling as he puts on gloves, breathing through his nose. This smiley face is nothing but a provocation to him, the true Judge. Did the writer target the ones in charge of the investigation knowing the Judge was hiding among them? He flinches, his fingers releasing the vial he’s holding, and he watches it shatter on the floor.

Almost on cue, Tsukauchi barges inside.

“Midoriya-kun, don’t run off like that with critical proof. You’re not even wearing gloves.”

It hasn’t escaped his attention. Grasping the letter without anything to cover his fingers had been deliberate. If the sender knows he’s the Judge, then perhaps Midoriya’s fingerprints are already covering the letter. Now that Midoriya touched the paper, the Police Force wouldn’t be able to disassociate the fingerprints and think of him as the killer.

Putting on the most sheepish expression he can muster, Midoriya bows his head as an apology, not piping a word that would betray him. Tsukauchi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know you want to help and that you want to find that bastard but there’s protocol. You mustn’t forget that.”

Midoriya nods, inquiring, “How much time will it take?”

“Analysing DNA is a complex process. I’d give it around two days, so in the meantime you can finish that fire Quirks list.”

In the meantime, I’ll find who sent this letter.

“Is it you?” Midoriya shouts as he storms inside the League’s headquarters.

“Pleasant evening to you as well,” Tomura drawls. “I’m going well, thank you for your concern.”

Midoriya stalks up to him, planting himself in front of the villain with stiff shoulders and trembling fists. “Is it you who sent the letter to the Police Force?”

His casual demeanour changes instantly, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Oh? So it worked?”

Midoriya takes a step back as if slapped. He was already aware that the League of Villains is a fickle ally, but Midoriya didn’t do anything to provoke such a betrayal. He searches in Tomura’s eyes for any explanation but he finds only amusement.

“Why did you do this?”

“Why, I wonder?” Tomura whispers, looking at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. “Perhaps because I want to help you?”

“Help?” Midoriya chokes. “Don’t make me laugh. You made things worse.”

“On the contrary, I did. You call yourself Judge even if you’re just a novice. I’m helping you to gain experience and level up on your own. All you needed was a little push and so I gave it to you.”

“What is this...?” Midoriya whispers, blood roaring in his ears. “I am the Judge.”

“You are but you’re not a villain.”

“Of course I’m not!”

The very notion makes him sick. He’s avenging wrong deaths caused by Heroes, deaths that should’ve never happened in the first place. He can’t be a villain if he’s rendering justice.

“Oh? But you need to be one. Aren’t you ordering people to kill for you? Isn’t murder a crime?”

“A villain is a person who uses his skills to disrupt the civilians’ peace for their own selfish desires. I’m acting for society, unlike you.”

It isn’t the wisest idea to insult one of the few people who know his double identity, but Midoriya knows where he stands. There are four types of people: the Pro Heroes, the Heroes, the civilians and the villains. Pro Heroes are those who learned how to use their skills to protect, rescue and tend to civilians according to high values and ideals that befit the profession, such as selflessness, justice, attention to others or generosity. The difference with Heroes is that they use their skills for the same goal but not for the same reason. Instead, they act for their own personal values or goal, such as power, fame or money.

His logic isn’t flawed, he’s convinced of it, and following the definitions he established then that makes him a Pro Hero. They use skills, and skills aren’t necessarily Quirks. Midoriya might not have a powerful Quirk or a lot of influence over the media or the Police Force, but he’s using his intellect to serve the civilians who have been wronged. He does it not because he’s lusting for blood but for justice. He can’t be a villain, can he?

“That’s no good, kozo. Your agents won’t follow a leader who’s never killed himself.”

“Villains are the ones reaping lives while the Heroes save them.”

“Who said villains are the only ones who kill? Didn’t Shimomura kill when he ignored that girl who asked for his help? Didn’t Yamazaki kill when he ran away and left the civilians? You can be a villain as much as a Hero and kill. It all depends of your motive. If it’s noble, then why would you call yourself a villain?”

Midoriya’s eyes widen. He’s never thought about it from this perspective. He remembers himself grumbling about reporters not focusing on the motive, and here he was doing the same mistake. A villain disrupts civilians’ peace. A Pro Hero protects civilians for noble reasons.

It’s all so clear now.

“Never lose sight of your objective.”

Still, the thought of taking a life makes Midoriya queasy. Can he retrieve the letter and dispose of it without hurting anyone? The more he thinks about it, the more it seems impossible. Whether it’s fake or not, Tsukauchi will want to keep the letter intact and close to him. There’s no doubts that security’s been increased in the laboratories to prevent anyone from destroying evidence. Besides, the letter’s located at the core of the Police Force building.

“If you want, then Kurogiri can teleport you inside the lab without setting any alarms.”

Midoriya blinks, shocked at Tomura’s gracious offer. Even the concerned villain rises his head when his head’s mentioned, his amber eyes narrowing.

“So you genuinely want to help me?”

Tomura shrugs, “Is that so hard to believe?”

Midoriya doesn’t rise to the bait, preferring to settle a specific time for Kurogiri to bring him to the laboratories. When he leaves, Tomura turns around to the computer, watching its pitch black screen flicker to life.

“What did you think, Sensei?”

“I have high expectations for the Judge.”

Tomura snorts, “That much? I don’t know what you see in him.”

“Let’s say I trust his potential.”

Tomura scratches his neck, sneering, “Potential. Tch.”

“Good morning, Izuku.”

“G’mornin’,” Midoriya answers groggily, knuckles rubbing his eyes to clear away sleep’s fog.

His mother’s finishing to cook breakfast, humming to herself some jingle. Two bowls of rice along with two smaller ones of miso settle on the counter, both Midoriyas joining their hands and bowing before digging in. Inko opens the television, the usual news channel being broadcast. The weather forecast predicts showers along with cold temperature for the entire week.

“How’s work going, Izuku?” His mother asks between two mouthfuls. “Tsukauchi isn’t too strict?”

“He’s alright. He still trains me.”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

The news seems to fill her with joy. Midoriya doesn’t know what to think of it. The only reason she’s so cheerful is because she thinks her son is powerless when he’s all but that. It’s only a matter of time before the journalists cover— Ah, there it goes.

“Izuku, isn’t that where you work?”

He feigns ignorance, perking up on his seat, “Uh? What do they say? Turn the volume up.”

The screen shows the Police Force building engulfed in smoke. From times to times, the windows would burst and spit a deluge of glass on the sidewalks. The reporter flinches at each explosion but her voice doesn’t quiver when she speaks.

“… seems to have started in the lower floor around four in the morning. The Pro Hero Manual and his sidekicks are currently tackling down the fire but it’s still roaring—”

“How horrible,” Inko whispers. “Did your boss call you to inform you about your job?”

“I’ll check.”

He realises his mother’s right. His cellphone indicates he’s missed a phone call from Tsukauchi, labelled as ‘The Tyrant’, and that he left a message. Apparently Midoriya isn’t off work because the detective wants his list before the end of the day.

“The Police Force didn’t make any statement for now, but the main theory is that this fire wasn’t an incidence. According to a source who wishes to remain confidential, the Judge case concerning the deaths of Pro Heroes Elemental Armor and Native has been progressing and critical evidence has been gathered in the laboratories, where the fire first started.”

“A source who wishes to remain confidential?” Inko repeats. “I’m sure that if your boss kept this information secret, than he didn’t want the media to be informed. Who could’ve done that?”

“I wonder…”

“They’re going to catch him, right, Izuku? You’re going to catch the Judge.”

“I assume we will…”

Midoriya’s glad his mother doesn’t possess Tsukauchi’s Quirk, or else he would’ve been caught.

Thankfully, everyone trusts him.

Chapter Text

 CHAPTER FIVE

Suffocated

“Human relationships are chemical reactions. If you have a reaction then you can never return back to your previous state of being.”
— Kaneki Ken, Tokyo Ghoul

Tsukauchi grasps Midoriya’s hand and flexes his fingers over the envelope. Midoriya examines it but both sides are blank. He doesn’t dare holding it against the light to read what’s inside with Tsukauchi still present and breathing down his neck.

“Tsukauchi-san, is this All Might’s letter?”

The detective nods, solemn, “I arranged a meeting with Todoroki. It’ll be in the cafe down the street.”

Midoriya’s nose wrinkles. Such proximity won’t only set Todoroki on edge but himself as well. Will one of Tsukauchi’s men spy on them with an expert in lips reading to ensure Midoriya doesn’t mess up? Tsukauchi’s all talk, it seems, with his ‘Trust goes both ways’ philosophy.

“What did you tell Todoroki-san about the reason of this meeting?”

Tsukauchi hands him another envelope. “It’s to thank him for his collaboration.”

Midoriya doesn’t have to try looking inside to know it’s full of yen bills. He takes the second envelope, noticing this one’s identified.

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he warns his superior. “I don’t have an hypnotising Quirk or anything similar to make sure he’ll read the letter.”

“You have something much more compelling, Midoriya-kun.”

“A-Ah?” He gets the feeling he’s being mocked. “What is it?”

Tsukauchi nudges him almost playfully, saying, “Your innocence.”

Midoriya resists the urge to burst in laughter. He can’t bear the risk of having to explain himself to Tsukauchi and his damned Quirk. He muffles his laughter, making it appear like a withdrawn chuckle and his face, red as he refrains himself, can easily pass for a blushing one.

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“Of course I do,” Tsukauchi smiles.

Neither for the first nor the last time, Midoriya wishes he possesses Tsukauchi’s Quirk to assess the truth of his affirmation.

The cafe across the street is a small establishment huddled between huge city buildings, but it has a warm glow the entire street lacks. It may be because of its orange hues that create a stark contrast with the greyness of cement or because of the aroma of ground beans floating out of its windows but it always drew Midoriya. He never had time to enter, though, with his load of work increasing the more they were working on the Judge case. Thus his experience with the cafe’s a deep longing each time he hovers near the printer located next to a window and gazes down to the tiny splash of colours in a world so dull.

Midoriya arrives thirty minutes before the time and settles in the very back. If his decision displeases Tsukauchi, then it’s one more good reason to lounge there and relax. He’s almost being swallowed by the sagging sofa like into quicksands but he willingly sinks into it rather than escaping its hold. The last few days have been hectic at the Police Force as well as in his persona as Judge. He deserves to relish this fleeting peacefulness.

Hands cupping his mug, he sips the coffee and shudders when the liquid warms his throat. He always drinks coffee at the office, which is a matter of survival and not of taste, and he never particularly liked the beverage. This one isn’t as bitter as the one he downs in the morning. Plus, it has cream that melts on his tongue instead of bland coffee scorching it. He lets his mind be drowned by the other customers’ idle chatter, the whirring of coffee machines and the background music. If, for one second, he can let go…

“Midoriya-san.”

Midoriya’s eyes snap open and he jolts so abruptly that half of his drink spills on the floor. In front of him stands Todoroki who meets his eyes with a steely edge.

“Todoroki-san,” Midoriya answers back breathlessly. “I apologise, I didn’t see you—”

“I don’t have much time. What is it Tsukauchi wanted to tell me?”

He blinks, taken aback by such harshness, but composes himself. He hands over Tsukauchi’s envelope with a small bow.

“Tsukauchi-san wanted you to receive this to express his gratitude for your help,” Midoriya informs, although Todoroki already tore down the letter and took out the bills.

“I assume you have another envelope on you, don’t you?”

“What if I have?”

Todoroki extends one hand, ordering, “Give it to me.”

“You’d just burn it.”

“What if I do? This letter’s addressed to me, so I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Your sensei took his time to write this letter and even drafted it several times,” Midoriya protests. “You may be crossed with him, but you have to recognise his efforts. Reading it would be respectful.”

“I never asked him to write a letter. If that’s all, I’m leaving.”

Midoriya jumps out of his seat to grasp Todoroki’s sleeve. Even if it infuriates him to be retrograded as a mere messenger by Tsukauchi, there’s no way that Midoriya won’t accomplish his mission. He can’t afford returning to the Police Force with his head bowed in defeat.

“What are you doing?” Todoroki asks with a hint of menace.

“If you don’t read it now I’ll read it aloud.”

“I’ll just walk away.”

“Try me,” Midoriya retorts, his hold tightening. “And if you leave, I’ll follow you and keep reading.”

Todoroki’s eyes broaden almost imperceptibly, his lips parting without a sound. His eyes shift to Midoriya’s hand, then close in resignation. His voice lacks of any venom when he speaks.

“Why are you siding with him? You don’t know even what’s going on between All Might and I.”

“You’re right but I don’t like conflict. If I have the power to make things right, I’ll use it.”

“No wonder you’re in the Police Force then. It’s fine. You can let me go, I won’t run.”

Midoriya hesitates but there’s no trace of deceit on the man’s face. Actually, there’s never been much emotion in the first place. Still, Midoriya’s grip loosens and he takes his cup of coffee back. There’s nothing but dark residues staining the white cup, not even enough to take a small sip.

“I’ll pay for another one.”

Todoroki’s gaze is riveted on his cup that he’s clutching close to him. Midoriya reckons the Pro Hero caught his saddened expression of having no more drink before he could school his features.

“Todoroki-san, you don’t have to—”

“It’s partly my fault you emptied your cup. What do you want?”

“Ah… I don’t quite know what I ordered. I think it was a latte?”

Todoroki doesn’t pipe any more words and heads towards the counter. Midoriya breathes a sigh and collapses on his sofa, lying spreadeagled. Todoroki’s easy to spot with half of his hair white like an apparition and the other, red like blood. Midoriya watches him come back and accepts the cup Todoroki’s offering him, one of his hands holding a cup of his own. Unlike Midoriya’s, the beverage is of a lighter colour and tinged orange, similarly to the cafe’s walls. The bag soaking in the boiling water indicates it’s a sort of tea Midoriya’s not familiar with.

“Thank you, Todoroki-san.” He takes the cup like one receives a laurel branch, like a token of Todoroki’s goodwill. “I’ll give you the letter now.”

“I didn’t say I’d read it without any condition,” he replies.

Midoriya’s teeth clench. “I’m listening.”

“Tell me about you.”

He almost drops his second cup. “What?”

But Todoroki doesn’t as much as twitch, which means Midoriya heard right. He shifts on the sofa but it only makes him sink deeper. The self-consciousness he feels isn’t fake this time.

“Why would you want to hear anything about me?”

“Do you want the truth or the lie?”

Midoriya’s already shocked enough to be given a choice. “The truth.”

“I see.” Todoroki removes his teabag from his drink, putting it down on a bundle of napkins. “You don’t look like much. Pardon me if I offended you but you agreed to hear the truth,” he adds when Midoriya frowns.

“There’s a difference between being smooth and being blunt.”

“The point is,” Todoroki continues, “that you’re more than what you seem. Detective Tsukauchi may not see it. It’s obvious by the way he treats you as his errand boy. Yet there’s more. I want you to tell me what it is.”

He doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows.

“I… I don’t have… I’m just being me.”

“Then who are you, Midoriya Izuku?”

Midoriya himself would like to know. He feels like he’s hovering between two polar personalities, both screaming for justice yet acting so differently. Even as Todoroki scrutinises him, his heart’s so muddled that nothing can be discerned.

“I’m not sure I can tell you about who I am, but I can tell you about who I want to be.”

Todoroki quirks an eyebrow. “The second option reveals as much as the first.”

“Then after you can tell me who I am.”

He doesn’t miss a beat as he nods, “Deal.”

Midoriya straightens, sitting up instead of slouching. He can’t quite explain why his heart picks up and why he’s burning up as he tries to arrange the thoughts in his head. He’s closer to the person he wants to become with every day that the Judge case gains importance.

“I want to be a Pro Hero.”

Todoroki waits for more but facing silence, he insists, “Is that it?”

“That’s all I can think of right now.”

“So you want to be a Pro Hero. Why is that? Is it for money? For fame?”

“No, of course not,” he replies, vehement. “I want to save people, nothing more.”

“To save people? Have they done anything for you?”

“They don’t need to do anything for me to save to save them. I’m doing it because it’s just.”

“So you’re doing it for justice?”

Midoriya falters before confirming, “Yes. People shouldn’t get hurt for others’ sake.”

Todoroki’s eyes are unnerving, the grey one glaring at him as the blue one, contemplating. How can someone display two different emotions in one face that never shows any feeling to begin with? Todoroki doesn’t elaborate, sipping his tea. Midoriya mirrors him with his latte, but even the comforting drink can’t ease him.

“From what I learned about you, Midoriya-san, you don’t really want to be a Pro Hero.”

“What are you—?”

“You say you want to be a Pro Hero to save people. Most of them didn’t even think about saving people in the first place. They were inspired by a hero first. The need to save people develops afterwards. I’m sure it applies to you as well. What happened to the Pro Hero who inspired you, Midoriya-san? Did he fail you? Did he ignore you?”

“Get to the point,” Midoriya growls, fists curling.

“So now you want bluntness? I’ll tell you, Midoriya-san. I recognise the look in your eyes. It’s anger. You’re burning from within with anger, with frustration. I don’t know what happened because I don’t have a mind-reading Quirk, but I can tell something happened and you snapped.”

Midoriya shoots on his feet, staring at the ground. Todoroki remains silent, no doubt analysing his reaction while sipping his seemingly endless tea. His comment hit home too close for Midoriya’s liking but he refuses to be shaken. He knows where he stands. A Pro Hero uses his skills to protect civilians for noble causes, just like he does. 

“Thank you for the coffee.”

He moves to leave when Todoroki speaks, “You’re not going to ask me why I became a Pro Hero?”

“You’re Endeavor’s son. I got my answer.”

Midoriya hears Todoroki’s scowl in his voice as he demands for his letter. Midoriya rather throws it at his face and leaves before Todoroki can talk again. He doesn’t even look back to verify if the Pro Hero read the letter. To hell with Tsukauchi’s mission. He doesn’t care.

He’s had enough.

The list thuds on Tsukauchi’s desk, the detective’s head rising at the sound. Midoriya manages a smile as he gestures towards his work.

“The fire Quirk users list, as you asked.”

Tsukauchi rummages through the document, humming in approval as his eyes sweep across one profile. Midoriya prides himself on his ability to organises data by using the most optimal classification. Methodology, after all, is primordial when the Judge has to select a new victim.

“You took it seriously.”

Count on Tsukauchi to reduce Midoriya’s work to nothing. He even has the gall to sound impressed as if Midoriya’s never given him anything but disappointing results.

“Even if you missed your deadline, I can’t refuse such a detailed work.”

“Tsukauchi-san, if I may, you never gave me a deadline.”

“Midoriya-kun, there’s always a deadline.”

“Then what’s our deadline to solve the Judge’s case?”

Tsukauchi’s smile fades away, shaking his head with a sigh. “Before he takes another life.”

Midoriya can’t help but see it as a challenge.

“You arrived late this morning so you missed our briefing. The laboratories are irrecoverable but thankfully the fire stayed located in this area and didn’t spread on the higher levels. The camera tapes were erased so we have no idea who could’ve done it. Still, Watanabe will look for the criminal while we continue on the Judge case.”

“Watanabe left the team?”

Tsukauchi’s gaze darkens. “Among others. After your little speech, I received six demission letters.”

Inwardly Midoriya rejoices. Tsukauchi doesn’t notice it but his ways are similar to those of a dictator’s. He orders them around from eight thirty to five… technically. Most of the times, they finish around ten in the evening, nine if they’re lucky. Sometimes they skip lunch since Tsukauchi wants his analyses as soon as possible and chains them to the office, though Tamakawa became their spokesperson in terms of healthiness. He’s always the one reminding the detective that they need to eat, to drink water instead of coffee and to go home and sleep. Without him, Tsukauchi’s team would’ve crumbled a while ago.

Although Midoriya’s glad as the Judge, he’s also glad as their coworker. The brave men he’s got to know will be able to see their family and enjoy themselves a little.

“So now we’re six. Tamakawa, Yoshida, Katsuo, Subaru, you and me.”

But you don’t really have me, do you?

“I’m surprised Subaru-san stayed,” Midoriya admits. “Doesn’t he have a family as well?”

“A younger sister, yes, but his choices are his alone.”

Midoriya nods. He can’t refute this when he alone made his choice to become the Judge.

“I also want to congratulate you, Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi keeps going, this time with a smile. “I heard that Todoroki-san finally read Toshinori’s letter.”

Did he, now? It’s fair enough since Midoriya complied with his demand by telling him about his Pro Hero aspiration. Although Todoroki crushed them without remorse, he did uphold his part of the bargain.

“Then I assume we won’t collaborate with Todoroki-san anymore?”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know what you told him but he decided to work with us to solve the Judge case.”

Did he, now? Midoriya struggles to hide his annoyance but Tsukauchi’s eyes study his face.

“You don’t look pleased. I thought you of all people would be overjoyed knowing that such a renowned Pro Hero works with us.”

“We didn’t leave on excellent terms,” Midoriya confesses, avoiding the detective’s eyes.

“I’m sure you two are going to make up. You have to because I’m not letting any awkwardness grow between my teammates. How about I put his desk next to yours?”

“I don’t—”

“Then that’s settled.”

Midoriya’s convinced Tsukauchi’s doing it to spite him. The office has now six free desks but Tsukauchi chose Ishimura’s that’s right next to him. Since day one his superior’s always been on his case and today even more.

But the longer he watches, Tsukauchi’s mischievous smile morphs into a familiar expression, one that first appeared when he saved that little girl whose drawing now adorns Midoriya’s working space. It combines the heaviness of disappointment in the way his mouth turns downwards, a sigh raking his frame, but also signs of concern as he bits his lips, his forehead creasing.

“In all seriousness, Midoriya-kun, what happened with Todoroki-san? Normally you have no trouble communicating with people. I think you’re the most sociable out of us.”

“It’ll pass.” I don’t want to think about it. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Is it a crime to be worried about you?”

Midoriya almost laughs but realises Tsukauchi’s not joking. He’s scrutinising him like the investigator he is during questioning sessions, trying to find the flaw in his armour. Midoriya hopes he’ll never see this expression again because if he does, it’ll be when the Judge will be caught.

Instead he scoffs, folding his arms as he looks away, “You make it seem like it is.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. “Midoriya-kun...”

He can count on one hand the times he struck the detective speechless. Midoriya expected to enjoy having the power of shocking him, for once to be the one superior. However, as he meets his eyes, he never expected the colour drain of Tsukauchi’s face and to his lips part even more in something akin to distress.

“Ah, Todoroki-san, welcome.”

Both Midoriya and Tsukauchi turn to the entrance to see Tamakawa greeting the Pro Hero. Tsukauchi rises, smoothening invisible wrinkles on his shirt, before stepping towards the latter. Midoriya isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light but it appears to him that the detective’s hands are trembling, even clasped tightly in his back.

“Todoroki-san, welcome to the team.”

“Thank you, Detective. Just Todoroki is fine.”

“Alright, Todoroki. You can take the desk you prefer.”

Midoriya’s eyebrows almost shoot up to his hairline. Wasn’t it Tsukauchi who insisted that the Pro Hero sit besides him so they could strengthen their quite inexistent bond in the first place? Midoriya refrains a grimace before indicating Ishimura’s vacant desk.

“Here, Todoroki. Take this one.”

He swears he’s never seen Tsukauchi’s eyes widen this much. He looks like he’s about to protest when Todoroki dumps his bag on the desk, already beginning to sort through his belongings. The detective clears his throat, spinning on his heels as if to leave.

“Midoriya-kun, a word with you.”

In fact, they do leave the office. Tsukauchi leads him to the cafeteria which the team never uses, but it’s enough for Midoriya to understand they’re standing on a neutral ground. To make-believe his own pretence, Tsukauchi orders the week’s special while Midoriya follows him in the line without taking anything.

The wait is interminable. Tsukauchi folds his napkin as if it’s a masterpiece that should be handled with delicacy and puts his tie away with such cautiousness, like he’s afraid it’s a bomb about to explode in his face. He then fumbles to snap his chopsticks in two, his mouth twisted in fake concentration. Midoriya observes him through his struggle, impassible. Tsukauchi’s never had any trouble breaking them in two, his motions usually sharp and certain.

“You know I can detect when someone’s lying to me,” the detective declares, putting down his chopsticks still stuck together. “I would’ve liked to hear you lie back then but your answer was full of honesty. So much that it was disarming.”

Midoriya keeps his mouth shut, watching Tsukauchi’s meal as it cools down from being untouched. He has an inkling it’ll remain as such.

“My Quirk doesn’t allow me to feel emotions,” the detective continues, “but please tell me I’m wrong that I felt under your layer of sarcasm a deep hatred.”

Midoriya leans back on his seat, clenching his jaw. He thought he did a good job concealing his feelings but it seems he was an open book. Now he’s trapped on an uncomfortable cafeteria seat and pinned under his superior’s pleading gaze. Yet Midoriya can’t give him the salvation he seeks.

“If I do, I’ll tell you a lie.”

Tsukauchi sighs, his shoulders slouching. “I see. Midoriya-kun, I’m going to ask you a question and I don’t want you to lie to me. Forget that I’m your superior if it makes it easier. You won’t be punished for whatever you’ll say and this conversation will stay between us. I want to know what I did to make you feel this way.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Tsukauchi opens his mouth then closes it. Midoriya fights against a smile. He bets that he wanted to say he’s the one asking the questions but they’re not talking as detective to a versatile clerk, or even as equal colleagues. He willingly abandoned his advantage as his superior, then he has to face the reality Midoriya’s always been confronted to.

“Communication—”

He scoffs, folding his arms. “Don’t talk to me about good relationships. You can easily ask for another person who has the necessary skills to go on the field instead of the burden I represent. You’re wasting a spot on your team. Why are you keeping me instead of downgrading me? Why are you keeping someone as useless as I am?”

Midoriya wants to kick something, mostly Tsukauchi’s face. His fists do curl but he keeps them on his knees, his knuckles white. He’s tempted to snatch the chopsticks and snap them in two, four, maybe even six, to grind them into fine grains.

“You’re believing it…” Tsukauchi’s staring at him, incredulous. “You’re believing you’re useless.”

“I’m not. I’m enough.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Midoriya repeats with a steady voice, his nails burying themselves in his palms to form crescent-shaped scars. “I’m enough.”

“My Quirk—”

“Who cares about your Quirk? I don’t have any but I’m enough!”

He’s standing on his feet, his chair overturned behind him, and his head bowed to hide the hurricane brewing in his eyes. It’s silent in the whole refectory, but Midoriya’s head is roaring. He can’t focus on any of the thoughts crisscrossing in his mind, fighting for dominance, submerging the facade he’s trying so hard to maintain.

He sees Tsukauchi rising as if behind a veil, words obscuring his vision. He recognises some of them but doesn’t heed them. He knows they’ll eat him alive if he does. They’ll devour his eyes first, then follow the optic nerve up to his brain to override it. So he blinks them away, striding across the cafeteria until he reaches the door.

Then he breaks in a sprint. He’s suffocating in this building, in this position, in this life. There’s not enough air for someone like him. It shouldn’t be wasted on someone like him, some think. Oxygen goes first to the Pro Heroes who gulp it down, who take so much place in the media, who are almost worshipped by some civilians. They’re taking it for granted, aren’t they, the constant oxygen surrounding them? Midoriya knows better.

He had to fight to be where he is today, and where he is today is a police officer who’s more of a stay-at-home receptionist who keeps making lists and staring at a dried plant. It’s far from satisfactory. It’s far from enough. He still has to fight, to carve his place, even if he’s aware he’ll never be completely accepted. There’s not enough air in this world for seven billion people.

He’s overloading. He can’t stop thinking about Tsukauchi’s last expression. It was but a fleeting glance in his direction before he stormed away but he saw gestures he shouldn’t have seen. He saw one hand outstretched as if to cup his cheek instead of slapping him, to reach out for him instead of rejecting him. He saw the creases on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows, the parting of his lips as Tsukauchi called his name using not a saccharine tone but one of the softest voices, like speaking to a stranded child or a wounded animal.

Midoriya’s nothing of the sort. Or perhaps he is.

The Judge, though, is nothing of the sort.

“Oi.”

He whips around, ready to punch a possible assailant, but his fist gets stuck in Todoroki’s crushing hold, stopping his momentum. He cocks an eyebrow, taking in Midoriya’s frenzied state.

“Where you are you going?”

“Let go.”

The man in front of him is a Pro Hero, or rather he calls himself a Pro Hero but Midoriya can’t be sure before he witnesses Todoroki in action. A diploma isn’t enough for a person to be called a Pro Hero, more of a free ticket to privileges most don’t deserve but abuse of.

“You have to show me around.”

“I don’t want to. Ask Tamakawa.”

Todoroki doesn’t even budge. “It’s a direct order from T

Instead of motivating Midoriya, it causes the opposite reaction. He wants to leave although he has no clear destination in mind. There’s the League’s headquarters but he doubts he can keep calm if he encounters Tomura and his uncanny ability of prodding where it itches the most. There’s his house but what will he do if he goes there? Weep? Tear down his bed sheets? Set the couch on fire? He can’t bear having to lie to his mother.

Todoroki lifts one hand to his chin, rubbing it as his eyes narrow down.

“He didn’t say when you had to,” he admits. “You can show me around another time.”

“What’s your condition?”

He knows Pro Heroes are greedy creatures, attracted to money, power and fame that their rank instantly procures them. He isn’t remotely surprised to see Todoroki’s the same.

“Allow me to finish your character analysis.”

Midoriya waves one hand, not planning on listening. If he has to play interested for the sake of being left alone with any consequences, he’ll do it without hesitation.

“Something happened and on the day you snapped, there was no one there to save you.”

Midoriya jerks so abruptly that he assumes it can’t be much different than whiplash. He takes a sharp intake of breath but remains gasping for it, the air never reaching his lungs. Todoroki keeps talking, his eyes inspecting him.

“I don’t know what happened and I won’t try to guess it. In all honesty, it’s pointless to dwell on the past. We have to consider the future to the best of our abilities. If the rage in your eyes is anything to go by, then you’re dooming yourself.”

Todoroki shows him his hand, splayed fingers seeking his to curl around them. Midoriya watches them with bulging eyes.

“I don’t know your past, but I’ll be alongside you in the present. You may not care about your future, but since we’re a team we’re heading in the same direction. I refuse defeat caused by someone else than me, so I offer you my best partnership wishes.”

But Midoriya shakes his head, inquiring, “What are you playing at?”

“On the contrary, I think you’re the one playing around. I can’t give you redemption but I can pave your path.”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

“You don’t?”

He hates it that Todoroki isn’t fazed at all. He hates it that Todoroki’s hand doesn’t waver and doesn’t retract, as if his hand holds every answer in the universe and shaking it will solve all his problems. He hates it that Todoroki’s eyes are piercing his very being and penetrating his core as if the barriers he spent years building are transparent. He hates it that Todoroki’s voice has no room for insecurity, that he’s Confidence incarnate, that he has no reason to feel inferior.

“So you don’t want to be saved from the hatred gnawing your soul?”

He hates it that Todoroki’s words get to him.

“Why are you doing this?”

He hates it that Todoroki’s smile’s full of empathy.

“I know what it does. I don’t wish it to anyone.”

He hates it that Todoroki’s intentions are so pure.

“Anyone? Not even to the person who made you feel this anger?”

He hates it that Todoroki’s shrug’s so earnest, as if the past’s an obstacle he surmounted.

“There’s nothing to be gained from wishing it since it won’t happen. I’m calling a truce, Midoriya. We didn’t have the best beginnings and I don’t want our mutual first impressions to poison our partnership. Let’s do our best to catch the Judge.”

He hates it that Todoroki’s a Pro Hero.

But he hates himself even more for shaking Todoroki’s hand.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX

Confronted

“Men often mistake killing and revenge for justice. They seldom have the stomach for justice.”
— Robert Jordan

“And here’s my favourite spot.”

Midoriya gestures towards the printer and photocopier that stand side by side, pressed against the wall and next to the window. Todoroki stares at them blankly, his fingers trailing on one of the purring machines.

“Is there anything special about it?”

“Look at the window.”

Todoroki complies, detaching himself from them to hover around the window, hands gripping the frame. His eyes light up in recognition when they land on the cafe below.

“That’s where we first met.”

“Actually, we first me in front of Yamazaki’s house but you can say it was in this cafe.”

Todoroki glances at him from over his shoulder. “I’m not surprised you’re corrected me.”

“What is this supposed to mean?”

“It fits your character to be precise.”

Midoriya wonders if it’s meant as a fact, a compliment or an insult. With Todoroki’s neutral tone, he’ll probably never know.

“The only floor I didn’t show you is the lower one because it’s still under construction.”

“I heard about the news, yes. Quite regrettable.”

Again, Midoriya doesn’t know if it’s sarcastic or genuine. As a test, he makes Todoroki lead them back to the office. He’s quick to realise that the Pro Hero has already memorised the building’s layout, navigating easily through the right corridors even if they all look the same, or perhaps he’s orienting himself by spotting the rare frames on the walls. They reach the office in a record time, Todoroki’s quick pace almost forcing Midoriya to jog behind him.

The other five team members are already there, greeting them as they enter. While Tamakawa whisks Todoroki away, Midoriya settles at his desk and rummages through the tasks Tsukauchi gave him. It’s redundant to see the word ‘list’ on each bullet point, but one of them piques his interest.

List of The Judge’s Identity Suspects

It’s entertaining enough to list people to frame for his own crimes.

To be honest, Midoriya never thought about framing someone, not because he never thought about getting caught, but because he never thought so far in his schemes.

It’s time to get to work, then.

He didn’t even have time to open his browser when an unwanted detective drifts his way.

“Todoroki’s fitting well, don’t you think?”

Midoriya hums in approval, not missing a beat as he types on the keyboard. It’s most impolite but Tsukauchi doesn’t mention it, rather insisting on conversing.

“What do you think about him? Will he make a good detective?”

“I assume he will. His mind’s very logical,” Midoriya states, and that’s as close as Todoroki will get as compliment from him.

“I’m glad you two made up. I think you’ll make a great team.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Todoroki’s a Pro Hero first and foremost, so he’s specialised in catching criminals and villains. You, on the other hand, have the brain to identify and corner them.”

There’s a second of silence before Midoriya’s typing resumes. “I didn’t know you were thinking so highly of me.”

Tsukauchi sighs, “We didn’t mention the conversation we had before you left but we can’t act as if it didn’t happen. Midoriya-kun, I apologise if I made you think I hated you or that I looked down on you. The Judge case takes a lot of my energy and leaves me short on patience, but it’s not a reason to ignore or belittle you.”

Midoriya expects more but it has to be wishful thinking since the detective doesn’t utter a sound. Midoriya swivels on his chair and takes in Tsukauchi’s downcast eyes.

“I apologise as well for stepping over my bounds and interrupting you.”

Tsukauchi bows his head in gratitude, asking, “You will tell me if something bothers you from now on, won’t you?” Midoriya’s mouth keeps closed and he concedes, “I guess you don’t have to tell me because I have to regain your trust, but you’ll tell someone, right? You can’t keep everything on your chest, Midoriya-kun. You have to tell someone.”

“I will.” I can always tell Tomura.

Tsukauchi beams at him, “I’m relieved.”

But his smile was shaky, already crumbling around the edges like a castle made of cards. Midoriya doesn’t point it out and rather focuses on finishing his document. Demotivated by his lack of talk, Tsukauchi leaves him to hover around Tamakawa before they both walk out of the office.

“The relationship you have with Tsukauchi seems strenuous.”

Midoriya isn’t even startled by Todoroki’s straightforwardness and his sudden presence by his side. It’s frightening how fast he got accustomed to the Pro Hero’s unexpectedness.

“It doesn’t seem. It is.”

“I see.”

Todoroki sees a lot of things Midoriya doesn’t.

“You don’t have to be on guard around me,” he continues. “We’re colleagues now.”

Despite this, Midoriya finds it impossible to loosen his body. Instead it winds up even more, now aware that his stiffness has been pinpointed. Todoroki shrugs as he slumps on his chair on which he pivots using his feet to move.

“Do as you wish. You won’t see any objection if I do relax, will you?”

“I don’t,” Midoriya answers but it’s tainted with uncertainty.

“I hear judgment in your voice.”

“I didn’t think you’d be capable of relaxing.”

Todoroki snorts, “I’d say the same about you. I still don’t, in fact, unless you prove to me that you can by showing it to me.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes and opens a new tab on his computer, aware of Todoroki’s eyes fixed on him, waiting. At first it doesn’t make any difference but gradually Midoriya’s nerves fray and he turns around entirely from Todoroki.

“I’m working. You should too.”

“I am. Tsukauchi told me to observe you.”

“I’m not a child or a lab rat,” Midoriya hisses. “I don’t need people looking after me.”

“If you want my opinion, he considers you more like a slumbering volcano about to explode.” He shrugs when he meets Midoriya’s glare. “A volcano’s more dangerous than a child.”

“You’re much more different than how I imagined you to be.”

Todoroki blinks, skepticism flickering across his face. “You imagined me?”

“Not like that,” Midoriya’s quick to reply. “As a partner. I mean, work partner. Colleague.”

“I see.”

And that’s why Midoriya doesn’t particularly like interacting with his species.

Todoroki clears his throats, asking, “How far are you concerning the Judge case?”

“Didn’t Tsukauchi-san tell you?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you.”

“It’s simple, really. We conducted some standard analysis, consulted you concerning Yamazaki’s murder and I think Tsukauchi and Tamakawa met Shimomura’s girlfriend. Oh, and we received a threat we think is from the Judge but our labs got incinerated before we could analyse them. As you can see, we’re open to new ideas.”

“What about the motive?”

Midoriya points Tsukauchi’s mind map. “It has something to do with the ‘guilty’ signs. He accused his victims of something and killed them for it.”

“Men often mistake killing and revenge for justice. They seldom have the stomach for justice.”

“What did you say?”

“I said—”

“So if your mother’s murdered and nobody does a thing for her when they could, you wouldn’t do anything for her as well?”

Midoriya didn’t expect Todoroki’s face to darken, his eyes dulling as if they’re looking at something near yet too far away to lock onto. He runs one hand through his hair, his motion mixing white strands with crimson.

“I wouldn’t,” he whispers.

Midoriya digests the answer and replies coldly, “Yes, you’re much more different than I imagined.”

“You must understand that quenching your thirst for vengeance by killing doesn’t do anything but encourage more violence,” the Pro Hero sighs. “There’s a reason why the law forbids killing and—”

“But it’s your mother.”

He’s convinced this argument will convince him but finds himself shut down as he watches Todoroki’s passive demeanour switches to simmering. It’s so abrupt that Midoriya physically feels a door being slammed in his face.

“I would ask of you to please refrain mentioning my mother.”

“Oh, are you suddenly realising your cowardice?”

“There’s no cowardice in resisting the urge to kill. I prefer acting like a human being, not like an inconsiderate beast.”

“So you have no feelings. You’re like an ice king.”

Todoroki glares at him, straightening on his seat. “Don’t call me that.”

“Did I hit a nerve?”

The Pro Hero refuses to take the bait, turning to the computer he installed on his desk. He’s intent on ignoring Midoriya but the latter leans forward in his direction, arms thrown haphazardly on his chair’s backrest. The tables have flipped, and Midoriya will exploit this opportunity to its maximum.

“It’s true that the nickname Ice King’s about half of your personality. How should I call the other?”

“Don’t call me anything.”

“I should call you Shouto. It’s your Pro Hero name after all, so you should recognise yourself when I call you that. Still, it’s your first name. Isn’t that a bit arrogant?”

“Are you looking for a confrontation? Because that’s where we’re heading.”

Midoriya shrugs, ignoring Todoroki’s warning, “At least you didn’t call yourself Endeavor Junior.”

Todoroki’s chair screeches as he stands, fists curled by his sides. He doesn’t glance at Midoriya as he gathers some papers next to his computer, wholly focused on his task. Instead of putting them down gently, he rather slams them on the desk, the sound resounding like a whip.

“This conversation’s over.”

“I was starting to have fun.”

Todoroki stops and whirls around, stomping back to him. Midoriya contemplates his face in fascination. Everything about Todoroki’s optimised so that every action produces minimal reaction. He shows anger by the simplest twitch of the lips, frustration by the way his eyes flash, interest by the tilt of his chin, peacefulness by the slope of his shoulders… but here’s a pulsing vein that appeared on his left temple, his jaw clenched as he suppressed his thoughts, his body taunt as he plants himself in front of Midoriya.

“So this is your idea of fun? Toying with people?”

His eyes are narrowed down, glowering. Midoriya’s already seen his eyes like this but never lit with such emotion. They were molten by irritation, but even then Midoriya bet his comments didn’t unleash his full wrath. If Todoroki once knew the frustration coursing through Midoriya’s veins, then Midoriya is certain what he witnesses here and now is a graze on the surface.

Is it bad that he seeks for more?

“It’s entertaining to see your face looking so alive,” Midoriya admits. “It’s refreshing.”

“Is this how you treat your colleagues? If so, I understand why Detective Tsukauchi has trouble dealing with you.”

“He doesn’t have any trouble dealing with me.”

“Of course. Don’t go around looking for trouble. You don’t have the strength to fight back.”

Just like that, Midoriya’s fantasy shatters. It’s been a chimera, of course, to imagine Todoroki understands what he’s going through. There’s anger bubbling within him, Midoriya can’t deny it, but its roots don’t find their source at the same place. How can it be, when Todoroki’s the very picture of everything Midoriya desires to be?

As he stares at him, he’s seized once more by poisonous envy to switch places with the Pro Hero in front of him, by overwhelming hatred not towards Todoroki but towards himself.

Todoroki snarls, “I thought we had a truce, but if you’re always this annoying I’m afraid we’ll have some difficulties being civil to each other.”

“This is me,” Midoriya counters, arms spread open. “This is my true self. I wonder, beneath that icy personality of yours, who are you hiding?”

Todoroki’s lips purse, eyes shadowed by his furrowed eyebrows. Midoriya’s disappointed to see them lifeless. Silent, the Pro Hero ambles away without glimpsing back at him.

Midoriya leans back on his chair, fingers laced together. The way people work is simple: their every action is done for a motive, to achieve their dreams. Once this motive’s discovered, every movement becomes predictable and one can understand the other’s personality. Todoroki is a character all in layers and subtleties, and Midoriya can’t wait to unravel him.

When Midoriya arrives at the League’s headquarters, there’s no one in sight. Strangely enough, even if Midoriya rarely comes, he’s become accustomed to seeing Kurogiri behind the counter and Tomura gaming on the couch. Midoriya settles down on the opposite couch, drawing his knees close to his chest.

He thought a lot about his next action as the Judge. He feels as if he let it down lately, that he pushed it aside to favour his fake police officer persona. Yet by shaking Todoroki’s hand and hearing him choose idleness instead of action, Midoriya realised that he couldn’t abandon. A Pro Hero’s nemesis is apathy. Midoriya refuses to succumb to the disease that plagues almost every Pro Hero nowadays. He refuses to let them get away with failing their duty without any consequences.

The current situation, however, is far from perfect. Murder demands a motive, and Midoriya’s certain he has the noblest. It also demands a victim, and he has plenty of names stocked in his mind. What he needs, however, is both an alibi and the courage of carrying out the deed.

Midoriya jolts when someone sits beside, the couch dipping under his weight. He’s careful to avoid Tomura’s arms as the villain spreads them wide to lay them on the couch’s cushions standing against the frame.

“If you want to kill, you should shut up. It gives away your position.”

“I didn’t notice I was mumbling.”

“You never do. You should stop this habit, or else you might slip up around the police.”

Midoriya unfolds his legs, facing Tomura. He can’t convey through a gaze every thought swarming his mind, but the villain meets his eyes as if he already knows what’s brewing within him.

“What is it? I know you’re dying to tell me something.”

Midoriya takes a deep breath, observing his hands. Their pallor screams of a recluse who spent his inside gazing at a computer screen. His torn nails tell the story of distress and insecurity permeating his mind. Numerous contusions mar his skin and although most of them faded with time, it looks to Midoriya that they’re as blotted with purple as the days where he came back from school.

And soon, these same hands would be killing.

“I’m ready. Tell me what to do.”

“Tell you what?” Tomura insists.

“Tell me how to prove myself.”

If he knew better, Midoriya would swear he saw a smile behind Tomura’s hand covering his visage.

“Send your letter. You seem to enjoy toying with your preys, so at least have fun while you’re at it. If the two morons you killed before are anything to go by, your victim will think it’s a joke.”

And it gives me a chance not to kill, Midoriya ponders.

“The way you kill is very personal. Everyone has their own method. For example, Toga’s all about blood and guts while Dabi prefers smoking out his prey then burning him until nothing remains.”

“That’s because they use their Quirk,” Midoriya notes, unable not to spit it out in envy.

“You may not have a Quirk but that doesn’t mean you can’t do a thing. I’m sure you were trained by the Police Force to incapacitate your enemy, so you do as you learned and then that’s where the fun starts.”

Midoriya frowns but doesn’t add anything. He devoured books on the matter, or rather on self-defence since there’s no textbook on how to murder someone. Hands can kill, if warped around the neck to either break it or strangle the person. Kicks using his fists, his elbows, his knees, his legs or even his head can stun his target for a few seconds at most. Areas to aim at consist of head, neck, stomach, ankles—

“The best advice I can give you, kozo, is to let go.”

“Let go?”

Tomura grips his wrist, Midoriya reeling back against the couch’s arm. He expects his flesh to crumble into peppery flakes but Tomura’s Quirk doesn’t activate. Still, Midoriya knows that when the villain will pull away, red marks will be etched on his skin.

Tomura leans forward, whispering, “Can you hear it?”

But Midoriya can’t hear anything but his stuttering breathing as he shakes his head. Tomura’s hold tightens, making him wince.

“This is your pulse. Can you hear it beat?”

It’s hard not to feel his heart threatening to burst both inside his chest and his wrist. As if to make his point clearer, Tomura brings his wrist close to Midoriya’s ear.

“Can your hear it race, kozo?”

“Y-Yes,” Midoriya nods, still trying to crawl away from Tomura. “What does it have to do with—?”

“It has everything to do with killing. You have to see it as a communion. Both your heartbeats will race but only one will cross the finish line. What you have to do is to make sure you’re the winner, or else I can’t guarantee that your pulse will be as vigorous as it is now.”

Tomura releases him so suddenly that Midoriya almost tumbling down the couch. He scrambles to sit properly as Tomura rises, heading to the counter. He pours down water in two glasses, handing one to Midoriya.

“Have you decided who’s going to be your victim?”

“You’ll see it in the news tomorrow,” Midoriya replies, grabbing the glass.

The villain smirks, rising his own. “Kampai.”

Midoriya stays silent as he downs his water.

Tozawa Anri

Pro Hero name: Knowledge

Quirk: Panmnesia (remembers absolutely everything one feels, encounters and experiences)

Crime: Duty to honour

Explanation: As a Pro Hero, Tozawa Anri known as Knowledge is bound to honour her profession by being transparent and committing no crimes. (Click link for crimes exhaustive list). From December 2011 to this day, Tozawa Anri has used her Quirk not to serve the civilians as she’s bound to but to harm them through drug dealing and weapon trafficking.

The Law is impartial and states that every person, whether Pro Hero or civilian, shouldn’t partake in these illegal activities. Through thorough research, there’s no mistaking that Tozawa’s affiliated with the yakuza as an informant broker, using her Quirk to exchange information and administer complex trafficking systems (Click link for references).

Therefore, not only she sullies the profession’s reputation, but she chooses her own selfish needs before the civilians’, which is inexcusable.

Verdict: Guilty

Status: Alive

Midoriya swallows, burying his phone in his pocket. Even if Tomura told him not to think too much, he can’t ignore his logical mind begging to devise a plan. Entrusting the task to locate Tozawa Anri’s house to Kurogiri, he’s now lingering in front of her residence. It’s trickier than he thought since she lives in an apartment block. The initial plan was to set her house afire but Midoriya doesn’t want to kill the people around her as well.

His target’s one particular person, and so it will remain.

Still, if I can’t burn her house what should I do?

He swears under his breath and adjusts his hood so it covers his face. He keeps stealing glances at the left window on the higher floor but the lights are off. He has no idea if Tozawa’s even in her house. He knows nothing.

What can I do if I don’t know anything? How should I proceed?

He was supposed to prove himself, to kill a Pro Hero by his own hands, to show everyone that the Judge’s strong. Yet here he is, sitting on a park bench, mumbling to himself like the idiot he is, and he can’t stop his knees from jerking. His lips twitch as well as his teeth gnaw at his knuckles.

Tozawa’s memory is her greatest weapon and her greatest flaw. If she sees through me like Todoroki, she can easily manipulate my emotions and neutralise me. However, if I find what ticks her off, I can flip the tables and kill her when she’s unstable.

Midoriya buries his head in his palms, groaning. His knees jerk once more, but now even his arms tremble and his fingers twitch, nails tearing at his skin.

It’s never gonna work.

“Just breathe.”

Midoriya strengthens, gasping. His vision’s blurry but he sees long blond locks framing a heart-shaped face. When she speaks, she has Tsukauchi’s authority but also Midoriya Inko’s gentleness.

“Head between your knees, hands in my hands.”

He startles when warm hands take his. He wants to pull away but the woman’s grip’s unyielding, reminding him of Tomura’s.

“Head between your knees,” she repeats, her voice sterner.

He obeys, bending down as he struggles for air. He remembers his mother’s voice whispering in his ears the numbers one to three, patting her head and holding him tight even if he shakes like a leaf. She tells him to think about All Might. She insists that he has nothing to fear, nothing to worry about, because if she ever disappears then All Might will come to save him because that’s his duty as a Pro Hero.

Midoriya knows his mother meant well when she lied to him about Pro Heroes, that she doesn’t know the world as he does.

“There, there,” the woman chirps as she wipes her thumbs on his cheeks. “You’re all better.”

He blinks, observing her. She’s a petite woman wrapped in a white fur coat, a green beret nestled atop her curls. Her green eyes are brimming with compassion as she sizes him up as well. Recognition hits Midoriya like a ton of bricks.

“Y-You are—”

“Ssh!” She interrupts, one finger pressed against his lips. “I know you know who I am, but just for once let me introduce myself. I’m Tozawa Anri. You can call me Anri.”

“Toza— uhm, Anri-san—”

“You sound so formal. You have to loosen up.”

She punches his elbow with little strength, not even enough to make him budge. Midoriya isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.

“You look like you’re cold. I can make you hot cocoa if you want? I live next door.”

She points the building in front of them, her smile so bright it almost pulverises Midoriya’s resolve. Yes, he’s cold. Yes, he knows she lives next door. However, it doesn’t negate the fact that yes, she’s a Pro Hero who sinned and that yes, she’s been selected by a letter he sent a few hours ago.

“You know what? I’ve seen this expression many times before and as you know, I remember everything I see. What you have on your face screams that you need some hot cocoa.”

“That’s not really an expression,” Midoriya feebly chuckles.

“Alright, if you want me to act like the walking encyclopaedia I am, then the expression you’re wearing is called hopelessness.”

He would’ve never believed that he could fool Knowledge herself.

Tozawa’s hand still holding his, she pulls him off the bench with bouncy steps. He lets himself be dragged across the street than into the building, noting carefully the cameras’ whereabouts.

It could be so simple to burn it down, he finds himself wishfully thinking.

Tozawa Anri’s apartment airy. The few pieces of furniture are scattered as if to fill up the place randomly. Midoriya removes his shoes, one hand on the wall so he maintains his equilibrium. Tozawa leaps out of her boots like a jack-in-the-box, peals of giggles escaping her cherry-coloured lips.

“You never told me your name.”

“It’s Mido… Midozaki Jun.”

“Jun it is then!”

She flops on the couch, the numerous pillows shuddering beside her. She pats the empty space next to her, her sincere smile as beckoning as the gesture.

“Come sit next to me.”

Midoriya doesn’t sense any treachery from her but he’s still cautious when he threads her way. Her legs are swinging back and forth in a childish manner, fingers thrumming against a pillow. Midoriya sits on the very edge of the couch, as far as he can for her, but as soon as he’s settled Tozawa reaches for him, arms embracing him. She isn’t comforting him like before, more like she’s caging him.

“Say, Jun, the expression you’re making right now is familiar.”

Midoriya finds it hard to swallow as if Tozawa’s hands are clamped around his neck instead of around his forearms. She clings to him not like a sister holds his brother with affection but like a mermaid seeking to drag him out in the ocean’s depths.

“I’ve seen it many times on the face of a contractor about to betray me.”

He tenses but Tozawa’s fingers curl around even more, nails like needles driving into his skin. He tests her strength, squirming a little, and winces as it feels like he’s stuck in iron.

“I assure you—”

“Be careful with your next words.”

“I assure you,” Midoriya repeats, “that I have no intention of betraying you. Betraying means you know a person close to you is breaking you trust and as far as I’m aware, we’re neither far nor loyal to each other.”

“I see I’ve brought a stray dictionary home,” she laughs, disentangling herself, drawing her arms sagely by her sides and smiling innocently. “Then if you’re not betraying me, pray tell what are you planning to do?”

He can’t say he’s about to kill her, can he? Yet as he opens his mouth the words spill out.

“I’m planning to kill you.”

He expects her to recoil, to have her features distort with horror or at least disbelief, for her to tense. When someone announces he’s planning to kill the other, surely a sane reaction wouldn’t be to laugh out loud, clutching ribs and wiping teary eyes.

“What are you talking about? You, kill me?”

Midoriya flushes, retorting, “You don’t think I’m able of killing?”

“I’ve seen the face of many killers, so much that I’m able to pinpoint characteristics. Yours doesn’t have any of them. If even, you look like you’re about to be sick,” she snickers.

She’s wrong. He’s already sick.

Sick of everything.

Before she can react, Midoriya takes out the scissors from his pocket, driving the sharp edge in her thigh. He draws it out as soon as it pierced her skin, drops of blood pearling on the blades. Tozawa’s shrieking, rising from the couch and limping away from him.

But Midoriya isn’t looking at her. He’s transfixed by the bloodied scissors in his hands.

“You bastard,” she growls under her breath. “I will—”

She stops when she meets Midoriya’s eyes. “And now, what expression am I wearing, Anri-san?”

She’s not answering, much to his annoyance, but he does enjoy the shock etched on her face.

Before she can flee, his hands close around her neck. The skin beneath his fingers is soft, malleable, crinkling as he applies more pressure. He feels her pulse racing under his palm, exactly like Tomura told him. It reminds him of horse hooves thundering in the wild, a blond mane floating around the head, eyes locked on a faraway point. It’s beating so fast, so close, that he has the impression he’s holding her heart in his hands.

“You didn’t answer me, Anri-san,” he murmurs, breathless. “What’s my expression?”

Her tiny hands are scratching at him, legs kicking, but Midoriya doesn’t feel a thing. He’s been pummelled by harsher blows in the past, whether from bullies laughing at him or from Tsukauchi’s rough training. Her punches may leave marks but it’s nothing makeup can’t hide. Where did her strength go? Is she even realising Midoriya will kill her even if she keeps on resisting so little?

Her Quirk may be formidable but she isn’t much when it comes down to her personal strength.

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m so intent on killing you when I don’t even know you? Doesn’t it frustrate you not to know a thing about me, the man who’ll take your life?”

Tozawa splutters what seems like the beginning of a negative answer but Midoriya’s hands are merciless. She’s wheezing and now her tears aren’t from laughter but from distress.

“You don’t know me, Anri-san, but I know you. You are guilty.”

He sees her coming before he feels the pain in his left arm. She’s grabbing the scissors lying beside them, digging it in his upperarm. He yells as the scissors cut through his arm, blood seeping on his hoodie and dyeing Tozawa’s fur coat scarlet.

“That… wasn’t nice… you know?” Midoriya gasps.

He read about strangling. He already knew what it was beforehand: it consists of blocking one’s airway or interfering with the flow of blood in the neck, or a combination of the two. When he read it, he winced and even touched his own neck in self-consciousness. He crossed the idea of strangling someone to death because it seemed burdensome.

He didn’t know it could be so intoxicating.

“Do you know… what expression you’re making… Anri-san?” The woman beneath her is silent, so he leans forward, whispering, “It’s terror.”

The hand holding the scissors falls limp. Her struggling seizes gradually, hands stilling around his. Her breathing erratic dying out as if someone turned down its sound. Her lips are parted yet she remains silent.

Midoriya stumbles on the side, panting. The scissors are planted just above his elbow, crimson rivulets streaming down his arm and following his fingers’ shape. It ripped open his hoodie’s sleeve, now showing a gaping hole where his upperarm stands. It’s a shame because it was his last hoodie; the other one that was adorned with All Might’s colours was crumbled to ashes by Tomura.

There’s too much blood — too much of his blood as proof on the floor. He should burn the apartment block in the end, to ensure no one can retrace him. On the other hand, he has to put his mark somewhere, to tell the world Tozawa Anri is guilty, and he doubts he can control the fire’s spreading like Dabi.

So what choice do I have left?

The best advice I can give you, kozo, is to let go.

Midoriya ruffles his hair, letting out a nervous laugh as he walks away from the corpse. “I guess I’ll make some hot cocoa. You invited me here for this, right?”

Tozawa Anri can’t answer.

Midoriya finds half of a milk carton in the refrigerator, enough to fill up a cup. He’s saddened to realise there’s no real chocolate ready to be melt, simply a cheap mixture.

Ah well, there’s nothing stopping me from burning it down then.

Setting a house afire is surprisingly easy. The smoke engulfing Tozawa Anri’s apartment activates the detectors and soon, Midoriya’s barging out of the apartment building along with its inhabitants. No one sees the dark stains on his hoodie or the white gauze on his upperarm. Everyone’s focused on getting out. No one questions him his hurry to distance himself from the column of fire. No one realises he’s responsible as he sits down on his park bench, knees jolting, lips twitching, teeth gnawing his knuckles.

This time, there’s no one to tell him to put his head between his knees and to hold his hands.

It’s alright.

He’s not sure he deserves it.

 Status: Eliminated

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Tormented

“Sometimes it’s not the strength but gentleness that cracks the hardest shells.”
― Richard Paul Evans, Lost December

 
There’s a knock at his door before it creaks open, light filtering in the darkness. Blankets rustle at the intrusion but no more sound is made.

“I cooked your favourite meal, Izuku,” his mother’s soft voice fills the silence. “I’ll put it down on your desk, alright?”

Midoriya Inko places the katsudon bowl and chopsticks beside his computer. She lingers on the threshold in hopes of receiving an answer but her son doesn’t react. From what she can discern in the darkness, he’s underneath the huddle of blankets in the corner of his room. He doesn’t seem bothered by the hard ground or by the fact that he didn’t move from his room for an entire day.

“If you need anything, just call. I’ll be on the other side and I’m here if you want to talk.”

The door clicks shut behind her, plunging the bedroom in complete pitch black. Midoriya tightens the blankets around him, lips biting his lower lip enough to draw pearls of blood.

Midoriya doesn’t need to talk. He doesn’t need to eat. He doesn’t need to go out.

He doesn’t need anything.

He doesn’t deserve anything.

“What do you mean he’s not feeling well?”

Tsukauchi shrugs, “Apparently he’s ill and refuses to get out of his room.”

Todoroki scoffs, stapling his report with more force than necessary, “Of course he decided to take a break on such a critical day.”

They’re alone in the office, the other members scattered to accomplish diverse tasks all related to investigating the apparent murder of Tozawa Anri. The story that came out in the press in the morning goes like this: her apartment block was set afire as a distraction so the Judge wouldn’t be disturbed as he killed Pro Hero Knowledge. The media, of course, didn’t mention the lack of ‘guilty’ signs on the crime scene, now nothing more than fuming ruins.

“He couldn’t have known there’d be another murder today.”

“Why are you defending him, Detective Tsukauchi?” Todoroki’s face is severe as he gazes at the older man, eyes narrowed down. “He’s the one who made that little speech on devoting oneself to solving the case.”

“I’d rather have my men take care of themselves at home than die in the office because they neglected their health.”

“Strange how this perspective of yours changed in so little time.”

“We don’t give enough credit to Midoriya-kun. Like everyone on the team, he deserves to be heard and I realised recently that we hurt him with our ignorance. If he has to take time for himself, then I’ll give it to him.”

Todoroki stares at him, emotionless. “How kind of you.”

Tsukauchi kneads his forehead, sighing trough his nose. He remains standing for a few moments before sitting on the chair beside Todoroki, examining him.

“You don’t approve of him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Tsukauchi doesn’t seem fazed by his words, as if he expected them. “Is it because he acts like All Might sometimes?”

None of the Pro Hero’s muscles shudder and betray him, but Tsukauchi’s living consists of remarking body language and inferring using what sparse information he can find.

“Midoriya-kun is not All Might.”

“I know.”

But the detective notes the acerbic undertone tainting Todoroki’s voice before his Quirk even warns him of a lie being spoken to him.

“Todoroki-san, Midoriya-kun isn’t your sensei. Both have qualities they share like selflessness and perseverance but they’re their own unique being.”

“I know,” Todoroki replies, and had it not been Tsukauchi he was talking to then there isn’t a doubt Todoroki would’ve snapped.

“It’s not his fault.”

Todoroki doesn’t have to ask the detective who he was talking about between the Symbol of Peace and their colleague.

“If he knew about your situation, what would he have done?”

Todoroki’s temper’s slipping up, Tsukauchi remarks as he catches the tremor in his fingers. It’s no coincidence that his left side’s trembling more.

“Todoroki-san, I’m not asking you to forgive All Might or to erase your part. I’m asking you to accept it.”

“Did you know Midoriya asked me if I would avenge my mother if I had the power to? I said no but I’m not sure I really believed it.”

Tsukauchi offers him a lopsided smile, “The challenge isn’t to refuse to acknowledge our desires but not to yield to them.”

Todoroki’s sigh reminds him how young the Pro Hero is. Yet the scar marring his face, the heavy bags under his eyes and the lines wrinkling his forehead don’t belong to a young man. Tsukauchi’s seen them on hardened police officers and even if Todoroki’s half his age, he can’t help but considering the Pro Hero as his equal.

“You should reserve this speech for Midoriya,” Todoroki mutters. “I’m not sure he understands the difference between justice and revenge.”

“I’ll tell him if it can ease your mind but don’t change the subject. We were talking about you.”

“We’re not anymore,” Todoroki declares, rolling his eyes, and Tsukauchi can almost believe he’s twenty. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine on my own.”

“You’re not on your own.”

This time Todoroki looks like he’s a seasoned enforcer of the law who’s always been a lone wolf, surprised to be offered partnership. According to All Might, the Pro Hero’s a solo player capable of holding his own, but he can cooperate with others if needed. Otherwise, Tsukauchi doesn’t know much about the Pro Hero. There’s an entire file on Todoroki, about his skills, his education, his past, but it lies untouched in one of Tsukauchi’s shelves.

It’s one of the lines Tsukauchi doesn’t dare to cross.

Todoroki doesn’t answer him, his back facing him. Tsukauchi’s head pounding and he fights back against reaching out for him, rather sinking in his chair. If Todoroki’s a seasoned enforcer, then what does it make him? A century-old disillusioned and weary investigator? He can’t be far from the truth since he feels like one when he speaks.

“Don’t let the past swallow you.”

“I won’t.”

Tsukauchi’s nose is tingling. He’s not being lied to, but he wonders if Todoroki’s lying to himself. He watches the Pro Hero walking away, somehow also distinguishing Midoriya’s form running away from him in the cafeteria. Their silhouettes merge together as they leave him alone, the door shutting behind the both of them.

Tsukauchi sighs, allowing himself to bend forward, elbows on his knees and clasped hands placed above his head. He’s slipping up, or perhaps it’s always been this way and he’s been ignoring it. As a leader, he’s supposed to unite his teammates and guide them on the perilous path they took. It appears to him that he did a poor job since the youngest distance themselves from him and that they didn’t budge from square one with the Judge case.

He glances at the documents on his desk. They know Tozawa Anri’s death wasn’t accidental, but they can’t be certain that her murderer’s the Judge. The lack of ‘guilty’ sign which links the previous murders infuriates him. Why would the Judge, if the Judge it was, change his pattern all of sudden?

Tsukauchi groans, straightening. An empty office stares back at him. In the very back, on Midoriya’s desk, the dried plant loses a leaf. Tsukauchi’s eyes follow its fall as if hypnotised. It drifts in the air before touching the desk, stilling. It’s alone since it’s detached from the stem yet it’s so near and once belonged there.

Is that how Midoriya-kun felt?

No, he’s not asking the good question: Is this how Midoriya-kun feels, right now?

With a heavy heart, Tsukauchi picks the leaf and sticks it back to the stem using tape. It’s messy. It doesn’t remove the fact that the leaf once fell, abandoned.

But now Tsukauchi knows what to do.

The newspaper rustles before crumbling to dust, Tomura’s fingers opening and closing sporadically. He watches the headline disintegrate, pages about Pro Hero Knowledge’s murder and the whole apartment block that flared like a gigantic bonfire in the middle of Shibuya decaying.

“You’re cleaning the mess,” Kurogiri calls from the counter.

“Of all the Heroes to root out, he had to kill one we were dealing with,” Tomura growls, ignoring the other villain’s comment. “That brat’s nothing but trouble…”

“So he killed Tozawa?”

As an answer Tomura kicks the table with his foot, sending it careening across the room. Kurogiri sighs yet doesn’t move from his spot. As long as Tomura doesn’t calm down, he’s bound to lash at more furniture and create a bigger mess.

“But Tomura-san, aren’t you happy that Midoriya did his first kill?”

“He didn’t. He may have killed Tozawa but he didn’t accept it and we had to act as the cleaning crew. This kill’s worth nothing.”

“Why are you complaining about cleaning when I was the only one who did it?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s glowering the computer at the back of the room, as if his glare can make it light up. It remains idle, pitch black, and Tomura eventually abandons his staring contest.

“I don’t understand why Sensei’s going to such lengths to watch the brat.”

“He has resolve,” Kurogiri notes. “Just like you.”

He shouldn’t have spoken because the other villain grabs a cushion, activating his Quirk until nothing’s left in his hand. Kurogiri shakes his head, estimating this action as Tomura’s hundredth aggressive incident for the current month. And they’re not even halfway through October.

“Tomura-san, please refrain from destroying more furniture. At this rate, we’ll have to buy another couch and we’ve yet to pay Giran for his services.”

“And what sort of services was it? That blond brat and the rude guy are a downgrade. They piss me off.”

“They share an ideal similar to ours and Midoriya’s. We already saw what they were capable of when they killed Midoriya’s first victims. It would be absurd to let them go now.”

“Why don’t you become the leader since you’re so knowledgeable?” Tomura snarls.

Kurogiri watches his comrade storm out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Tomura may rant about how he dislikes brats but he acts like one himself. Numb, Kurogiri observes the damages left in Tomura’s wake, as if a hurricane had wrecked the room.

Perhaps he should call him like this. Hurricane Tomura.

Kurogiri sighs and prepares himself for another cleaning session.

There’s a knock at his door before it creaks open, light filtering in the darkness. Midoriya expects his mother to check the food he didn’t touch and take the bowl back but instead she remains outside.

“Izuku, Tsukauchi-san’s here to check up on you.”

What...? His mind goes blank for a blessed instant where he even forgets about Tozawa’s murder but soon he remembers why he’s secluded in his room, quaking under blankets.

“He’s waiting in the living room, but I’m sure it won’t bother him to come in your room if you don’t feel well enough to move...”

Tsukauchi shouldn’t be here. Tsukauchi can’t be here. He forces himself to breathe but any protestations he has die in his throat.

“I’ll tell him to come.”

As simple as that, his mother sealed his fate. She scurries away, leaving his door open for everyone to see his pitiful state. There may be only two people in the house other than him, but Midoriya feels like he’s being watched. He’s being glared at by Todoroki’s smouldering eyes, challenged by Tomura’s arrogant ones and observed by Tozawa’s lifeless orbs.

There’s a knock at his door, but it’s already open and Tsukauchi’s tall shadow looms over him. The detective shuts the door behind him and crouched, keeping his distance. Midoriya distinguishes his silhouette in the darkness, alert.

But Midoriya would be even more grateful if Tsukauchi disappeared.

“Midoriya-kun, it’s me.”

I know. I’m not stupid.

“If you’re anything like me, you probably don’t want me to see you like this but I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say.”

What are you talking about? Is this a joke? You’re wasting my time.

“I’m aware that trust goes both ways, so I’m ready to answer your questions beforehand to make you at ease.”

This time, Midoriya’s interest is piqued. Apart from Tsukauchi’s academic accomplishments and the notable criminal cases he solved, Midoriya has little to no information on his superior. Still, he doesn’t know why he’s so excited. It’s not like Tsukauchi has something to be ashamed of, is it? After all, he’s the perfect, selfless detective who will save the day.

Tsukauchi shifts and Midoriya tenses, ready to bolt out of the room, but the detective simply changes position to be more comfortable. He sits across Midoriya, crossed-legged, hands wrapped around his knees.

“You wanted to know why I kept you in my team. In my opinion, your observing and deducting skills are unmatched in the Police Force, making you a crucial member to uncover and stop the Judge. With your astuteness, you’re able to predict what will happen and to decide which course of action is preferable. I respect those skills, Midoriya-kun, and this is one of the many reasons I chose you. I see myself in you, sometimes.”

Midoriya wants to laugh. This situation he’s been thrust into is most ridiculous. He doesn’t mind being compared to Tsukauchi since it’s been like this since he discovered he doesn’t have a Quirk, but Tsukauchi comparing himself to him? Doesn’t the detective have a shred of self-consciousness? The two of them evolved in different universe even if they both live in the same town, and Midoriya knows their paths will continue diverging.

Hasn’t it already started with Tozawa’s murder?

Midoriya clutches his stomach, grimacing. As annoying as Tsukauchi is, he managed to clear Midoriya’s mind for a few seconds. However, the image of Tozawa’s doll-like body, so easily crushed despite having a Quirk, invades his mind twice forcefully. Midoriya clasps one hand in front of his mouth as he resists the urge to vomit, the bile scorching his throat.

“My Quirk is subtle. I can detect when I’m being lied to, and if I concentrate I can use my Quirk to analyse a nearby conversation. Still, I thought it was an instinct, a gut feeling, and I considered myself Quirkless. I listened to my childhood friends boasting about their abilities and showing off at every opportunity. I remember dreaming of having a Quirk like them, but at the age of seven I was too old to dream. I didn’t understand I had a Quirk until I first attended Yuuei.”

But you have a Quirk and went to Yuuei, two things I can only dream of realising.

“I didn’t enrol in the Hero program. I didn’t think I’d be useful there. After all, my Quirk’s nothing fantastic compared to the other students who possess enhanced speed, endurance, resilience, strength… I was known as the Bullshit Detector among my comrades, which isn’t glorifying. It isn’t until I met Toshinori, that you know as All Might, that I realised I was more than what I thought.”

Midoriya curls on himself, screwing his eyes shut. The very bedroom in which they were standing had once been filled with All Might paraphernalia. He once had every collection figurine, once memorised every interview in which the Pro Hero participated, once spent his time dreaming that he would fight alongside him, that he could fight alongside him.

Yet when he met All Might, he realised he’s less than what he thought in society’s eyes.

“Toshinori was Yuuei’s greatest expectation and he carried his role superbly. He’s everything a Hero has to be: he’s benevolent, charismatic, confident and strong. When I met him, I wondered how such a being can exist. When he was standing next to me, I was an insect staring at a god. But that’s because I was staring at the Hero and not at the man. I admit both are extremely close, almost impossible to dissociate, but they’re not the same.”

What are you trying to tell me? What does All Might have to do with this?

“All Might always smiles, even in the darkest of times. He laughs and jokes when he rescues citizens. On the other side, Toshinori has a drooping posture and sighs a lot. He thinks a lot about the people he couldn’t save. It doesn’t make him any less admirable. It makes him human.” Tsukauchi pauses, releasing a nervous laugh. “This is getting long, isn’t it? What I want to say is that you may see me as your superior, Midoriya-kun, as the flawless detective who can’t err, but I’m human as well. I have my bad days too.”

Can this consider as one of my bad days? Midoriya wonders.

“You may have the greatest Quirk like All Might, or a boring one like mine, or none at all, it doesn’t make you less human. It doesn’t make you less… anything.”

It seems even Tsukauchi’s eloquence has its limit.

“Tsukauchi-san.”

The detective perks up at hearing his name, trying not to look too eager but utterly failing. Midoriya doesn’t remove the blankets but lets them fall on his shoulders. He has no idea if Tsukauchi can see his features so he sets them in stone.

“How many people have you killed?”

Tsukauchi’s straight posture crumbles in surprise. “I… Thirteen people.”

“Were they all guilty?”

“I presume they were. They either refused to be arrested or ignored our orders not to stand down, so we had to incapacitate them. I always target their legs first, but sometimes I have to shoot to kill.”

“So you decided to kill them?”

“It’s not an easy decision to make. Taking a life is horrible, even in the name of justice. It may be a small consolation that they were criminals but it doesn’t erase the fact that you killed someone who may have people caring for them.”

“And what about the people who were killed by this criminal? Would you spare the criminal because people care for him and ignore the victims’ relatives?”

“I can’t kill someone who surrenders. Some may wish I kill but it isn’t my duty. It isn’t justice.”

“Then what is?”

Silence, than a sigh.

“Everyone has rights we have to abide with. Respecting them is justice. Violating them is a crime. Condemning those who violated them is justice when it’s proven they were responsible. However, killing the criminal isn’t justice since one violates the criminal’s own rights. This is revenge.”

“I understand,” Midoriya whispers.

And he does. He has proofs Tozawa Anri sold information to the yakuza and participated in many illegal trades. Through her actions at the top of the chain, Tozawa violated many people’s rights who got involved with the yakuza. Condemning her therefore was justice.

“Is there something on your mind, Midoriya-kun.”

Midoriya has no trouble reading between the lines Tsukauchi’s true interrogation: Why would you ask me those questions? For once, Midoriya settles for the truth.

“Killing will be part of my routine. I wanted to know about your experiences.”

“Let’s no hope it doesn’t become a routine because these experiences aren’t pleasant.”

As a police officer, let’s hope not, but I wasn’t talking as a police officer…

“Midoriya-kun, did you understand what I said? I’m human and so are you. You can blunder, hesitate, refuse. Don’t believe I’ll demote you because of this. You gave me no reason to.”

Midoriya tightens the blankets around himself, sniffing. Tsukauchi’s words mean that he either doesn’t know about Midoriya’s involvement with Tozawa’s murder or tries to make him spit out a confession.

“According to your mother, you didn’t eat since you came back yesterday. How about I treat you to lunch? There’s an udon food stall a few streets from here that’s quite good.”

“I have to decline, Tsukauchi-san. You spent enough time talking to me—”

“What did I tell you, Midoriya-kun? Spending time with you isn’t a waste. Now get up, I decided we’re going to eat dinner together.”

Tsukauchi opens the door, light blinding him. Midoriya squints, blinking to find the detective extending his hand. He shrugs himself out of his cocoon without taking it, standing firm. He didn’t think there’d be a time where he would stand up beside the detective and feel steady on his feet instead of on his knees.

His mother is so overjoyed to see him out of his room that she melts in a puddle of tears, clinging to Midoriya’s shirt. He’s sheepish as he apologies for worrying her. He should know, now, that even criminals have people who care for them. His mother’s a prime example.

The walk to the udon place takes less than ten minutes but it’s enough for the sky to cloud and for rain to pour. The street clears of any lingering pedestrians, and soon Tsukauchi and Midoriya find themselves alone outside, running to their destination although mindful of slipping. The food stall’s located in a perpendicular lane from the main street, an entrance to a maze of crisscrossing alleys leading to the neighbourhood’s next suburb. The two of them sit at the counter that can welcome up to five customers, thankful for the small roof sheltering them from the rain.

“Hey,” an elderly man greets them, his smile sincere even if it’s a missing a few teeth. “What do I get for ya two?”

“You should be hungry, Midoriya-kun. How about we take the bucket for two?”

The man’s grin widens, “Ya ain’t the first to try to empty it, lads. Let’s see if ya can do it.”

Midoriya jolts when the man puts a bucket overflowing with udon pasta in front of the two, the rim reaching Midoriya’s nose from where he sits. They’re given chopsticks, bowls and a handful of napkins, the cook’s eyes twinkling as he retreats inside the kitchen. Midoriya eyes the udon, unsure. Beside him, Tsukauchi’s laughing, ready to dig in. As soon as they attack the mountain of pasta, both men fall quiet.

It’s strangely peaceful, Midoriya realises as he slurps his noodles, listening to the rainfall.

“You know, Midoriya-kun, you’re a little like my son.”

Midoriya startles, almost choking on his mouthful. After swallowing, he examines at Tsukauchi’s open face. He’s smiling but his eyes are full of fog threatening to crash down and submerge him.

“I know you have a father but… as your mentor, I feel like you’re the son I never had.”

Midoriya wipes the corners of his mouth, silent. He rises to serve himself in the bucket. It’s three quarters done, but Tsukauchi’s stopped eating for a moment now.

“I’ve known you since you applied to the Police Force. It’s been four years, hasn’t it?”

Midoriya nods, busying himself with eating. His stomach’s crying at him to stop, threatening to burst, but eating’s the sole way he found not to answer the detective.

“You’ve grown, Midoriya-kun. You may not see it but I do. I’m proud of you.”

Tsukauchi’s hand finds its way through his curls, patting his head. Midoriya’s paralysed at the foreign sensation. He’s seen many fathers doing the same gesture with their children, or even friends with friends. Midoriya would’ve thought they were both too far old for this, but perhaps Tsukauchi didn’t find another way to express his…

Fatherly affection.

“Tsukauchi-san…?” Midoriya asks as the detective removes his hand.

“Don’t mention this to anyone. I might be accused of favouritism,” he jokes.

It’s Tsukauchi to eat even if he’s already full, avoiding any questions Midoriya wants to bombard him with. His throat constricted, Midoriya also reaches for the bucket and eats.

They end up finishing the bucket, earning the cook’s praise and a free meal to his food stall the next time they come around. They linger under the shelter, watching the rain fall.

“Should I walk you back home?” The detective whispers just above the rain’s patter.

“I’m fine.”

Tsukauchi removes his detective coat in three wide gestures, handing it to him. “Use this to protect yourself from the rain.”

“It’s just rain,” Midoriya replies but he takes it nonetheless.

“I want you in top shape tomorrow at the office, so that means no cold caught from that rain.”

Midoriya nods and for a second, he’s convinced Tsukauchi will pat his head again. Instead, the detective waves at him before dashing under the rain. Midoriya remains for an entire minute near the food stall, his superior’s coat wrapped around him. He’s forgotten something, much to his shock.

He doesn’t remember when he stopped thinking about Tozawa’s murder.

(He knows exactly when he stopped thinking about her because his head’s still tingling.)

Chapter Text

 CHAPTER EIGHT

Interrogated

“I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me.”
― Katie McGarry, Take Me On

  
Something is different with his desk. As he inspects it, Midoriya reaches the conclusion that something’s missing and something’s not quite there.

“I bought you a new plant,” Tsukauchi tells him from behind him. “It’s a tillandsia called Medusa’s Head. You have to water once a week and soak it entirely once a month.”

Midoriya blinks, taking in the strange plant with snake-like leaves mounted on a wooden branch. It doesn’t look like a plant, more like an awkward cactus reaching out in every direction.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of taking care of it, Tsukauchi-san,” he admits. “The previous plant I had was supposed to be easy to take care of and it died under my care.”

“That’s why I won’t only be your plant but also Todoroki-san’s.”

From the other side of the desk, Todoroki glares at them. “What did you say?”

“You heard them. You two are going to work together taking care of this plant. Friendship’s born from striving for a common objective. Here’s your goal.”

Tsukauchi gives one of the leaves a small pat before taking off, his steps a little too springy that betray his amusement. Both Midoriya and Todoroki are left alone in the office to stare at each other, nonplussed.

“I say we let it die,” the Pro Hero declares.

Midoriya stares at the plant, then back at his partner. “No.”

He caresses one of the unfurling leaves, surprised to find it so soft despite its rough appearance. He’s not sure if the plant received the name ‘Medusa’ for the mythological woman or for the jellyfish.

“It’s a burden,” Todoroki grumbles.

“It’s still life.”

“So you want to take care of it?”

“With your help, of course.” Todoroki doesn’t answer, even avoiding looking at Midoriya. “You were the one who called a truce when we first became colleagues.”

“You were the one who destroyed it when you called me Ice King.”

Midoriya bites his lower lip, bowing his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored your request. Still, Ice King sounds impressive, no?”

Todoroki swirls around, facing him with cold eyes. “Midoriya, do you really want me to hate you?”

“Because you don’t already?”

Before Todoroki could answer, a shrill ringing comes from Tsukauchi’s desk. They turn to stare at the black phone across from them, paralysed. They didn’t even know it could work. After all, as far as they know, important calls are always transmitted on Tsukauchi’s personal phone.

“We should answer,” Midoriya hears himself saying.

“Then go pick it up,” Todoroki evenly replies.

The two don’t move until the ringing stops. When they do rise, however, their motions are synchronised as they rush towards the phone, a red light flashing beside the caption ‘Voicemail’. Todoroki doesn’t hesitate as he presses the button, Tsuragamae’s voice filling the silence.

“Tsukauchi, we have someone claiming to have information Tozawa’s murder waiting in Interrogation Room 4. I want you to go there as soon as you can.”

Midoriya blanches but next to him, Todoroki looks rejuvenated. Midoriya doesn’t like the zealous gaze he receives from him.

“Do you want to conduct an interrogation?”

Midoriya shakes his head vigorously. “T-That’s a bad idea, Todoroki-san. If Tsuragamae wanted Tsukauchi-san to do it, then we shouldn’t interfere.”

Besides, if this person has an inkling on who killed Tozawa, I may be recognised.

“That’s odd. I thought you would jump on the occasion.”

“And face Tsukauchi-san’s wrath? That’s a no.”

Todoroki shrugs. “It’s your loss.”

He rises, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles on his white shirt. His gait is confident as he strides to the door, leaving Midoriya behind him, still battling with his conscience. The fight is short.

“Wait!”

He’s standing on his feet before he realises it, one hand reaching out to Todoroki’s receding figure. Moving on instincts, he jogs up to the Pro Hero.

“I’m coming with you.”

Todoroki glances over his shoulder, offering him a wry smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Rooms dedicated to interrogation are usually located in the lower floor, but since the fire some dusty rooms on the first floor were cleaned and replaced the original ones. Number Four used to be a storage room, a maze of crisscrossing lines consisting of shelves going up to the ceiling. Now it’s devoid of its ancient police records, the few pieces of furniture inside being three chairs, one currently occupied, and a table.

The woman sitting inside straightens as the two men enter, eyes making a beeline on Midoriya. The latter swallows down his uneasiness as he settles down on the left chair. Her gaze shifts on Todoroki a second after without her piping a word. Midoriya’s glad his partner is such an eye-catcher with his hair, his eyes and his impressive demeanour.

“Liliana Schmidt?”

She nods and answers in a chopped Japanese, “Yes. You must be Detective Tsukauchi.”

It has to be a miracle that she doesn’t recognise Todoroki’s two-toned hair and heterochromatic eyes. However, the main concerned doesn’t miss a beat as he settles on one of the interrogator’s chairs, offering the woman a courteous smile.

“Yes, I am. This is my partner, Midoriya Izuku.”

Of course, Todoroki can’t lie for him and had to tell her his true name.

“Before we start, I have you to confirm that you came here willingly.”

“I did.”

“Excellent. This meeting is recorded by two cameras. One here and the other one, here,” Todoroki indicates the device behind Schmidt and the one in his own back, “There’s nobody on the one-way mirror’s other side. You have the right to remain silent. Is this clear?”

“Yes, Detective.”

Midoriya’s mouth twists, bordering on a grimace. Impersonating one of the Police Force’s most reputed detectives is almost synonym with instant demission but Todoroki’s nonchalant, as if he doesn’t realise what consequences their fraud could have.

“We heard you had information concerning Tozawa Anri’s murder.”

“Y-Yes, I’m her neighbour. I’m living at number 709, or rather I was living there.”

“Where are you living now?”

The address she gives them is an hotel room in Chiyoda. Todoroki nods, as if he already knew the information and sought for validation.

“When are you going back to England?”

Midoriya startles, eyes shifting to the two of them. It’s like Todoroki’s privy to something he doesn’t know. The Pro Hero must’ve done intensive research, beyond the frame of Tozawa Anri’s murder, when Midoriya was wallowing in his bedroom.

“Next week. I already bought my tickets.”

Todoroki cocks an eyebrow. “Tickets?” He repeats.

“I’m leaving with my fiancé.”

“His name?”

“Natsuhiko Arata.”

“Was number 709 under his name?”

“Yes. We’re going back to my family’s house in Devonshire.”

“Why the sudden need to go back to England? I’m sure your building was insured and offered you some compensation. I understand the transition to the hotel as necessary, but there are nice apartment blocks near where you lived that could fit.”

“Todo– Tsukauchi-san,” Midoriya intervenes, “I think we should focus on Tozawa’s murder.”

“I first want to solve our guest’s case.”

“I’m not involved in a case, Detective Tsukauchi,” Schmidt laughs nervously. “I’m going to England with my fiancé. Is that a crime?”

Todoroki’s eyes narrow down. Midoriya’s convinced he’s not going to let go but instead, Todoroki leans back on his chair, folding his arms.

“What was your relationship with Tozawa Anri?”

“We were neighbours. She was living down the corridor. On each Wednesdays, we saw each other at the embroidery workshops on the first floor. She was quite talented.”

“Talk to me about her personality. Was she a person who could cause trouble?”

“Not at all. She was very kind. She helped me during our first workshop because I kept on sticking my needle the wrong way. Besides, as Pro Hero, she always looked for others before herself.”

Midoriya’s fists curl. Wrong, he thinks, or perhaps his body language broadcast it because Todoroki turns to him.

“It seems that my colleague is opposed to your statement.”

Schmidt’s hazelnut eyes settle on him, judgmental. “He has no reason to. Mrs Tozawa was a benevolent person, I tell you.”

“Allegations of weapon trafficking have been made against Tozawa,” Midoriya retorts. “Do you wish to change your opinion?”

“I know who Tozawa was,” the Englishwoman replies, eyes spitting venom. “I have no doubts concerning her kindness and her integrity.”

“No need to anger ourselves,” Todoroki sighs. “I think none of us knew Tozawa Anri very well if we were unable to prevent her murder.”

Schmidt pales, stuttering, “M-Murder? So it’s official? She’s been killed by the Judge?”

Todoroki learns forward, unmovable. “I think you’re the one who’s going to tell us about it, Mrs Schmidt. After all, we already collected testimonies from the residents, including yours. If you came here today, it means you have information you didn’t want to disclose, information that would’ve put you in the spotlight, information, perhaps, that is crucial for this case.”

Schmidt’s lower lip wobbles, her eyes riveted to the floor. Midoriya notices her hands, laying on the table, trembling ever so slightly. The gleam of a silver ring on her fourth finger catches the light.

“I assume you came here to talk to us about Tozawa’s own crimes.”

Midoriya’s eyes go wide in shock. How does he know…?

“Crimes?” Schmidt gasps. “What crimes?”

“It’s useless to lie.”

Todoroki’s leg twitches, clearing every suspicion in Midoriya’s mind. The Pro Hero’s bluff a double-edged sword. If Schmidt knows, then she might succumb to the pressure of Todoroki’s cold eyes and reveal everything. However, if her words are sincere, then Schmidt would know the man interrogating her isn’t True Man, Tsukauchi Naomasa, but an impostor who’s as guilty as herself.

Schmidt refuses to meet their eyes, her breath hitching ever so slightly.

“I don’t… I don’t want my fiancé to be involved.”

“Of course,” Todoroki almost purrs. If Midoriya knew better, he would think he was trying to seduce her. “We’re ready for your confession, Mrs Schmidt.”

She draws a shaky breath before whispering, “I’m working in an art gallery in Ueno but he doesn’t know that I’m… that I’m selling the paintings on the black market.”

The truth spills out of her mouth like a cascade, in a rush barely comprehensible. Midoriya’s mind spins. Was this the link connecting Tozawa and Schmidt, their involvement with the criminal world? They may be working together, heading towards the same goal, or perhaps they never meddled with each other’s illegal business.

“Money laundering. How unoriginal,” Todoroki mumbles, receiving confused glances from both Midoriya and Schmidt. “I assume your husband— oh, pardon me, your fiancé doesn’t know about it.”

“I started before I met him,” Schmidt admits, shoulders shaking as she suppresses sobs. “He doesn’t know anything. I didn’t… I didn’t have the courage to tell him.”

“So you’re a coward.” Todoroki leans forward, resembling to a wolf in his predatory stance and his smile full of canines. “How about you start being brave for once?”

“I just— I didn’t want to tell you all this. This old life of mine is done. I’m done telling lies to Natsuhiko, I’m done being scared of the police knocking on my door to arrest me, I’m done… I just wanted to tell you about the night Tozawa was murdered.”

“Then tell—”

“Was Tozawa forcing you?”

Todoroki glances at him in anger, Midoriya cutting short his question streak. The latter has to give it to him: Todoroki’s an investigator who has no qualms exploiting weaknesses and twisting the knife in fresh wounds. However, ‘playing bad cop’ can’t solve everything, as useful as it is to pry out information.

“What are you—?” Todoroki hisses under his breath but Midoriya cuts him off again.

“Mrs Schmidt, what I’m about to tell you is secret information not yet revealed to the public, but we recently have been investigating Pro Hero Knowledge. We discovered she might be involved with the yakuza in weapon trafficking as well as money laundering. That’s why I’m asking you, in the light of what you confessed to us, if Tozawa Anri forced you in this business.”

Silent tears stream from her eyes. Not a hiccup escapes her throat as she speaks.

“I came to Japan as an artist, not as a business manager, but I didn’t… it didn’t work. I had no money and my parents had cut ties with me since I’ve failed. I was about to get kicked out of my apartment. That’s when Tozawa came to me. She offered me work. I didn’t know what it entailed, only that I was well paid to work in an art gallery. It was a miracle. I must’ve known it was too good to be true…”

“When did you start working at the gallery?”

“It was six years ago. I don’t know what position Tozawa holds but she was high in the hierarchy. With her death, the system didn’t crumble but it offered me enough time to slip away. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, the opportunity to disappear. I know I’m never going to escape my past but it’s my only chance.”

“Your tickets are next week?” Schmidt nods, wiping her tears, and Midoriya tells her, “Cancel them. You won’t be leaving Japan.”

“Midoriya?” Todoroki whispers in disbelief.

Even Schmidt doesn’t believe it. “Mister?”

“If everything you told us is true, and I believe it to be true, then you’re next on this organisation’s killing list. Fleeing to England seems reasonable but you’re a witness now.”

“Midoriya, a word with you.”

Todoroki’s chair screeches as the Pro Hero rises, grabbing Midoriya by the sleeve and dragging him out of the room. As soon as the door shuts, Todoroki bends over until they’re face to face, one hand gripping Midoriya’s tie knot.

“What are you babbling about? We’re not qualified to make this sort of statement.”

Midoriya pushes Todoroki away, scoffing, “And do you think we’re qualified to make this interrogation when Tsuragamae requested Tsukauchi?”

“I had it under control until you butted in. Schmidt was about to—”

A stifled scream startles them, their head whipping towards the room. Neither loses time to barge inside, ice already creeping on Todoroki’s right arm. They both stop in their tracks when they realise Schmidt isn’t alone, or rather what’s left of Schmidt. Her neck is crumbling, then the curve of her mouth falls prey to the disease-like Quirk until there’s nothing left. Her eyes roll in their orbit and mere seconds after, Schmidt’s entire face has disappeared.

Tomura glances over his shoulder. “Oh, it’s you,” is all he says.

Midoriya remains frozen on the threshold. The villain didn’t specify who he was talking to, but his gaze is crushing Midoriya. Next to him, Todoroki doesn’t waste time and lunges at Tomura. For a second, Midoriya believes his attack will connect, but Todoroki’s arm is swallowed by one of Kurogiri’s Warp Gate. His attack does connect, in the end, for Midoriya feels a cold sensation down his chest, prickling him. He looks down and finds the end of Todoroki’s hand outstretched in front of him, emerging from the gate’s other end, and ice piercing his chest.

Immediately, Todoroki removes his hand, snarling, but his eyes never waver from Tomura. The villain is waving at them, stepping back in another portal that materialised behind him.

“Stop!” Todoroki shouts, hurtling ice spikes.

“We’ll see each other soon,” Tomura declares before the portal vanishes, the spikes embedding themselves in the wall.

Deafening silence fills the room. Todoroki yells in frustration, kicking down the chairs. Midoriya stares at Schmidt, who is nothing more than a pile of dust.

“Todoroki...”

The Pro Hero whirls around, growling, “What do you want?”

His eyes are brimming with rage but they lose some intensity when they take in the ice protruding from his chest. Midoriya opens his mouth but he’s not sure if he speaks. He can’t hear his voice above the thundering of his heart. When he next opens his eyes, the ground is far too close to him and Todoroki looks alarmed.

Midoriya doesn’t know what he’s telling him and frankly, he’s not sure he cares. It hurts when his chest expands to take air and its contracts as he breathes out. It must be the ice.

When he next opens his eyes, he realises Tsukauchi is there as well. He looks furious, as he’s supposed to be, but he’s also worried if the lines wrinkling his forehead are anything to go by. Both Todoroki and him owe him explanations and perhaps apologies. Liliana Schmidt did die during an interrogation they were conducting, after all.

Let Todoroki do the explaining. It was his idea, after all.

Midoriya closes his eyes.

“So let me start again,” Tsukauchi sighs through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “You decided it would be intelligent to usurp my identity and my authority for an interrogation concerning a case I’m supervising and during said interrogation, a key witness was killed by Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the League of Villains, because you were busy bickering outside. Did I get everything right?”

Midoriya and Todoroki glance at each other, daring the other to say something.

“It was his idea,” Midoriya mumbles.

“It was his fault,” Todoroki grunts at the same time.

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes. “I guess I was living in utopia to think you two would bond over a plant.”

Midoriya stares down at his lap, cheeks burning in embarrassment. His chest’s a reminder of their relatively failed interrogation with Schmidt, the wound he got now cleaned, stitched and bandaged in white gauze. Gingerly, he brings his fingers to the strips, rubbing at its faint crimson spots.

“You two are grown men and should recognise that both of you were wrong in your actions, Todoroki-san for instigating the action and Midoriya-kun, for going along with it. Prove to me that I’m dealing with adults and not children.”

Todoroki doesn’t hesitate falling in a low bow. “I apologise for my irrationality, Detective Tsukauchi. It shall not happen again.”

“I’m sorry, Tsukauchi-san,” Midoriya adds from his hospital bed.

Tsukauchi must’ve felt with his Quirk the sincerity of their excuses because he breaks into a smile. “Good. Even if I can’t praise your action, I must recognise your interrogation skills. You still managed to uncover an illegal business and find what Tozawa was guilty of. We finally have a lead.”

And what a lead it is, given by the Judge himself, Midoriya growls inwardly.

“Are you sure that it’s the Judge’s motive?” He asks, feigning ignorance. “After all, the League of Villains intervened, not the Judge.”

“Who’s to say the Judge doesn’t work with the League?” Todoroki replies.

Shut up, wouldn’t you?

“I don’t think so. The League and the Judge have different views on Heroes,” Midoriya insists.

“And how do you know that?”

Because I’m the Judge and if you don’t stop acting so arrogant you’ll be next on my list.

“I’ve studied the League’s motives before. They want to annihilate all Heroes, regardless of their past, their accomplishments and their Quirks. From what we’ve seen with the Judge, he chooses them using a principle only he knows.”

“Alliances exist for this reason, Midoriya,” Todoroki ripostes. “Are you familiar with this concept? Or perhaps it’s just like truces, you don’t understand anything at all?”

“Todoroki-san, that’s enough.”

It doesn’t come from Tsukauchi but from a lower, gruffer voice coming from the entrance. Chief Tsuragamae enters, taking a chair and sitting beside Tsukauchi, on Midoriya’s left side. His wrath oozes out of him in the form of a menacing aura. As much as he refuses to be intimidated, Midoriya shrinks against his pillows.

“Here they are. Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto. Tsukauchi told me about your potential but it seems you both decided to waste it.”

The comment stings but Midoriya’s had worse, as sad as it is for him to say it. He eyes Todoroki, expecting a flicker of emotion, but instead meets a stoical face.

“Midoriya, you and I had our disagreement in the past, so I wasn’t surprised when your name came up in the disaster that you called interrogation. Todoroki, however, I expected much more from a Pro Hero. Didn’t your father teach you to know your place?”

“He tried.”

Tsuragamae’s eyes darken. “He didn’t try enough, it seems. Even if you’re a Pro Hero, you’re not in charge here. If you think you can make reckless decisions without consequences then you’re mistaken. What you did won’t be left unpunished.”

“I understand, sir.”

Todoroki’s eyes were glassy, his lips moving as if he had prerecorded the sentence. Perhaps interpreting Todoroki’s passiveness as submission, Tsuragamae turns to Tsukauchi.

“We’ll have to talk about your recruits. You seem to be starting a troublemakers streak.”

“Chief, I believe in their potential. You have to understand youths tend to be hotheaded.”

“There’s a difference between impetuosity and stupidity. I want you to report before six.”

“Understood, Chief,” Tsukauchi nods but the man’s already left the room.

The detective sighs, turning to Midoriya and Todoroki. “Don’t worry too much about the punishment Tsuragamae was talking about. He’ll have to understand that you couldn’t predict Tomura’s intervention and that it isn’t your fault Schmidt died.”

A lump’s stuck in Midoriya’s throat as he hears his superior’s words. As much as he’s right, because for once Midoriya’s not responsible for a disaster befalling the Police Force, Midoriya can’t shake the feeling it was his fault — their fault — Schmidt was murdered.

“But if you were there instead of us, Tsukauchi-san, you wouldn’t have left her alone.”

“Tomura might’ve appeared anyway. He has no way of knowing when Schmidt would be left alone. It was sheer bad luck that he had to appear when she was alone.”

“But you would’ve done something, you would’ve protected her.”

“You did something. You two rushed inside without thinking to defend her. That was the right thing to do given the circumstances.”

“Perhaps you are right…”

Midoriya doesn’t understand how Tsukauchi can smile so easily when trying to convince him he didn’t kill this woman.

“Did you get your hospital leave, Midoriya-kun?”

“Yes, an hour ago. The doctor told me I was lucky the ice didn’t hit vital organs.”

“You two can go home. I’ll settle things with Tsuragamae.”

Tsukauchi rises, patting Midoriya’s head before leaving. Midoriya touches his hair, unsure, and swings his legs over the bed’s edge. He’ll have to ask a nurse for his clothes before leaving. He resigns himself to put on slippers, adjusting his hospital gown.

He made a few steps towards the exit before realising Todoroki hasn’t moved from his spot since Tsuragamae left. He’s staring off into space, his back stiff and his jaw locked.

“Todoroki?” Midoriya calls, backtracking to him. “Did you hear Tsukauchi-san? We can go back home.”

Todoroki doesn’t react. Midoriya frowns, waving one hand in front of his face yet it doesn’t elicit any response. Definitely not feeling concerned, Midoriya moves to put one hand on his shoulder. As soon as his fingers brush Todoroki, the Pro Hero recoils from him.

Midoriya equally jumps back, asking, “T-Todoroki-san?”

“I’m fine,” he replies but once again, it’s like his answer was already rehearsed.

Midoriya’s lips purse but he doesn’t say anything. He watches Todoroki standing up, eyes burning with new resolve focused on him. They’re different from when they shine with irritation, the glow less aggressive. It’s only when his gaze settles on the gauze wrapping his chest that Midoriya understands.

“I’m sorry for your wound,” Todoroki murmurs. “I didn’t pay attention to the surroundings or else I would’ve sensed the other villain nearby.”

“He wasn’t nearby,” Midoriya hears himself answer. “This villain possesses impressive teleportation powers that don’t always demand his presence. He can create a warp gate here but stand miles away.”

“Why are you telling me this? Is it to ease my conscience?”

“We both blame ourselves for what happened. Yours is double since I was injured. I just wanted to lessen your burden.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Excellent because I’m not pitying you. What I’m offering you is camaraderie.”

Todoroki seems to consider it before inquiring, “What’s there to gain from such a fickle partner?”

“Tsukauchi-san already paired us together so we’re probably stuck together. I know I wasn’t the nicest when I talked to you but here we are, both fighting for justice.”

Midoriya extends his hand, remembering how a few days ago it was the opposite. Todoroki stares down on it but ends up shaking with reluctance written across his face.

“You better do something with that attitude of yours.”

So do you, Midoriya thinks, or you’ll be the Hero I’ll frame for the Judge’s crimes.

Of course the thought is farfetched and will need intricate manipulation, but for now Todoroki proved himself to be smart, capable of leading and ruthless as shown during the interrogation. It fits how the Judge’s portrayed by the Police Force. Midoriya thinks it’d be a shame not to exploit this.

Todoroki’s about to leave when Midoriya realises something. He calls after him, the Pro Hero glaring at him yet stopping in his tracks.

“What is it again?”

“I know you’re going back to the office, so don’t forget to take care of Medusa.”

“Medusa?” Todoroki repeats, puzzled. “There’s no one in the Police Force answering to this name or to this alias, no organisation using this acronym and no—”

“The plant, Todoroki, the plant. Don’t forget to spray water on our plant.”

He spins on his heels and exits, but Midoriya considers his quietness as a small victory. Todoroki didn’t correct him on the plant’s name or that it’s their plant.

Maybe they do live in utopia after all.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE

Tested

“After all, what can a first impression tell us about someone we’ve just met for a minute in the lobby of a hotel? For that matter, what can a first impression tell us about anyone? […] By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.”
― Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

Midoriya tries to ignore his pounding head and his heart’s sinking sensation as soon as his eyes flicker open. His white, immaculate ceiling stares back at him.

Raising one arm in the air, Midoriya examines how his fingers flex, the motion prudent and slow. To think this hand killed someone sounds like a dream. Yet this hand grabbed a doorknob that led him out of the interrogation room, leaving a witness defenceless. This hand wasn’t fast enough to reach out for Schmidt as she became dust in front of his eyes. This hand was unable to stop Tomura.

But isn’t Tomura your ally?

Midoriya curls on himself, staring this time at his desk a few feet away from him. He assumed Tomura and the Judge have an alliance. What he forgot was that he wasn’t interrogating Schmidt as the Judge but as the fervent policeman. Thus the attack wasn’t against the Judge but against this weaker side of him he desperately wants to abandon. Why couldn’t he shed this skin he was born with for a stronger, better one?

Midoriya scratches his wrist. The skin turns a light shade of pink before darkening as his scratching turns to scrubbing. Although his nerves scream at him to stop as pain kicks in, Midoriya keeps on rubbing the same spot. His wrist is raw red but the colour doesn’t disturb him as it should. If he keeps on scrubbing, perhaps his skin will peel away and reveal what lies beneath? He doesn’t want to see muscles and blood; he wants to see fire and metal.

He’s beginning to see the first pearls of blood leaking from his scratch when his cellphone rings. He should change the melody, as outdated as it is. He remembers stumbling upon it and being filled with elation; it’s been the perfect ringing, back then, since it’s a fanmade composition titled ‘I’m here!’ to honour All Might.

Midoriya fumbles around in his sheets, the vague memory of falling asleep in front of his phone’s screen coming back to him. Listening to the sound, he finds it in a precarious position on the edge of his bed. He stretches to take it and almost drops it when he sees Tsukauchi’s name.

“Hello, Tsukauchi-san?” His voice’s hoarse as he answers and he curses himself for not clearing his throat beforehand.

The detective doesn’t seem to mind as he goes straight to the subject. “Midoriya-kun, did I wake you? I texted you an hour ago but I don’t know if you saw it.”

With eyes still blurry with sleepiness, Midoriya realises it’s ten in the morning. Checking the text message, he feels chills rolling down his spine even if the location Tsukauchi sent him is unfamiliar.

“I apologise, I didn’t see it but I’m leaving now. Should I bring anything in particular?”

“No, it’s alright. Think you can make it in thirty minutes?”

“Of course sir.”

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence that the detective hangs up. Midoriya listens to the disconnected line emitting a dull, repetitive noise. It’s similar to a heart that stopped beating. He looks down at his chest, putting one hand above his own heart to feel it pulse. He blocks everything out, focusing on its rhythm. He can almost convince himself he’s fine.

Breathing out a sigh, Midoriya gets out of his bedroom. His mother’s cooking fills the house, sweet spices tickling his nose.

“Good morning Izuku,” she calls from the kitchen.

He trudges up to the table, seeing her face light up. He returns her smile even if his lacks of luster.

“How’s your injury today?”

“It stings a little when I stretch but I won’t do any abrupt movements. I have to meet with Tsukauchi-san in an hour though.”

“Ah?” Worry makes his mother’s face go colourless. “I thought you didn’t have work.”

“I don’t. I have to meet him somewhere in Chiyoda.”

“I guess it can’t be helped… Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

“Yes, okaasan,” he promises, kissing her on the cheek.

He takes a banana from the fruits basket and a drinking yogurt from the refrigerator before heading to the door. Inko follows him, her hands curled around her apron. Midoriya slips in his shoes, grabbing his coat and burying the food in his pockets.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back so don’t wait for me for lunch.”

“Be careful,” is the last thing he hears before he shuts the door behind him.

It takes him forty-five minutes and two shinkansen transfers before he reaches the address. He stares at Tsukauchi’s message, then back at the building in front of him. It’s a hotel, a luxurious one on top of it. With his salary as as policeman, he’s not even sure he could afford one night in the cheapest bedroom without blowing a hole in his budget.

With no sign of Tsukauchi, Midoriya enters in the lobby. It reminds him of Tozawa Anri’s apartment because of its vastness but this time there are couches and tables to fill up the space. Chandeliers dangles from the ceiling, figuring more as decorations than sources of light. His eyes sweep the lobby but don’t catch sight of the detective. Midoriya lingers near the entrance and does his best to ignore the clerk keeping on glancing his way with distrust.

Fortunately, Midoriya doesn’t have to wait for a while. One or two minutes later, the doors open once more and he’s face to face with the detective.

“Ah, Midoriya-kun, right on time.”

“Tsukauchi-san,” Midoriya greets with a bow, “… and Todoroki-san.”

Todoroki offers him a polite nod. “No need to add a honorific. It’s rather strange, to be honest.”

So much for this truce.

“Todoroki-san, Midoriya-kun, please follow me.”

They skip the lobby, going straight to the elevator. The numbers indicating the floors light up as the machine transports them higher, silence reigning.

“Chief Tsuragamae has decided to suspend you for a week,” Tsukauchi declares. “He also wants you to announce to Natsuhiko Arata, Schmidt’s fiancé, that she died under your watch.”

Midoriya’s eyes close as the judgment falls. As light as as it seems, the sentence has to be one of the worst Midoriya can think of. If the guilt isn’t gnawing his soul right now it will definitely devour it whole once he faces her betrothed.

“Will this be the first time you’ll announce someone’s death?”

Their silence suffices as an answer. The elevator dings once they reach the fifteenth floor, the doors sliding open. The corridors follow the lobby’s aesthetic, spacious with monochrome colours. Their footsteps are muted against the carpeted floor leading them deeper in the building’s core.

“You introduce yourselves, confirm Natsuhiko’s identity and then announce the news. I’ll have a few questions to ask afterwards and I’ll ask for you to wait outside. Tsuragamae’s orders.”

Todoroki leans down, whispering, “You should announce the news. After all, it’s because of you that we left Mrs Schmidt alone.”

“And whose idea was it that we interrogated her?”

“Boys, please.”

Their discussion is cut short by Tsukauchi’s knocks on the door. Midoriya stiffens and instinctively moves behind the detective. Todoroki, however, remains immobile by Tsukauchi’s side. The door swings open, revealing a tall man with short, spiky black hair with a huge smile that fades away once his eyes fall on Tsukauchi’s police badge.

“Yes, sirs, what can I do for you?” His tremulous voice can’t conceal his worry, eyes darting on the three of them before settling back on Tsukauchi.

“Are you Natsuhiko Arata?”

This time it was Todoroki who spoke. Natsuhiko’s focus shifts to him, blinking out his confusion.

“Yes. Did something to Liliana? She’s my fiancée and she was supposed to come back yesterday but she hasn’t…” His face blanches. “Don’t tell me…”

“Your fiancée, Liliana Schmidt, was killed during an interrogation. We’re terribly sorry.”

Todoroki bows to a full ninety degree, hands shaking by his side. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, hiding whatever expression he’s making. Tsukauchi glances over his shoulder, eyebrows rising as he notices Midoriya’s frozen, eyes unable to look away from Natsuhiko’s face.

His mouth is slack, as if the muscles holding his jaw had melted. An earthquake’s raking his body, making his legs quiver until he crumbles down, his foundations gone. One hand’s clamping his mouth yet isn’t enough to mute the sobs bubbling in his throat. When his head snaps up, there’s enough water streaming down his eyes to water Medusa for an entire month.

“During an interrogation…? Why were you interrogating her?”

Todoroki seeks approval from Tsukauchi who nods before answering, “She came to us willingly. She had information concerning Tozawa Anri’s death.”

“They were close but I didn’t know… We always promised we would tell each other everything.”

“She didn’t.”

Midoriya doesn’t know why he talked. Natsuhiko’s distraught expression morphs into rage, mouth curling in a snarl and his body regaining enough energy to make him stand up. He’s taller than Midoriya but to the latter, he seems small because of the vulnerability shining in his eyes.

“I want to know.”

“It was Mrs Schmidt’s wish not to divulge anything to you. She didn’t want you to be involved,” Todoroki clarifies.

Natsuhiko’s demeanour changes like flipping a switch, his ferociousness ebbing away. “Please, I want to know what Lili told you before she died.”

What were her last words? Midoriya can’t remember but he remembers his own. He told her she couldn’t leave Japan since she was a witness but truly, he wanted Schmidt to stay to ask her more personally about Tozawa and her role with the yakuza. Maybe Schmidt knew if others Heroes collaborated with Schmidt, maybe the network ran deeper and corrupted more souls who pledged to protect innocents yet condemned them with the implication with the mafia.

But Tomura had to kill her. Now that he thinks of it, Midoriya can’t fathom how the League of villains can benefit from removing her from the map.

“Todoroki-san, Midoriya-kun, wait for me in the lobby.”

The last thing Midoriya sees from Natsuhiko is his tear-stained face and his slumping figure receding inside his hotel room.

 “I’m hungry. Want to grab a bite somewhere afterwards?”

Todoroki doesn’t even glance at him, staying focused on his clasped hands. They’re sitting on a couch, far from apart from each other, and while Todoroki looks glum Midoriya only feels the ache in his stomach as it demands to be fed.

“What’s wrong with you, Midoriya?”

He frowns, wondering why it was wrong to be hungry. “I didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

“Dammit, Midoriya, I’m not talking about this. I’m talking about your stoicism.”

Stoicism? He’s not stoic, far from it. In his eyes, Todoroki’s the one lacking emotions with his expression always set in marble. The few times where he sparks to life are provoked by intense moments, often when Midoriya pushes him too far. He’s quite his opposite. While Todoroki remains impassive, the slightest things upset Midoriya.

“That’s the problem with you.”

Midoriya’s eyes dart on Todoroki, bemused. The Pro Hero’s still looking down but his eyes are glowing coals of amber.

“Tsukauchi can be fooled but I’m not. ”

“What are you talking about?” Midoriya smiles.

Todoroki straightens, eyes flaring. “There. Your smile can’t conceal what’s beneath it. I’ve seen enough of them to know.”

Midoriya doesn’t know where this conversation’s heading but forces himself to shrug nonchalantly. “Then please enlighten me.”

“You provoke me and find it entertaining. You interrogate a woman and remove her freedom. You see a man crumbling down and you shrug it aside because you’re hungry.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“The last time you urged me to be blunt you didn’t like it and this time again I can’t guarantee you’ll like what you’ll hear. You seem to derive a certain satisfaction from seeing others powerless.”

Midoriya stares at Todoroki but the latter doesn’t move. He’s serious. Midoriya chuckles and soon it escalates to full laughter, loud enough to attract the clerk’s disapproving gaze. He can’t care less. Todoroki’s so far from the truth it makes his ribs and cheeks ache.

“What is this? You’re a psychologist now?”

“I’m a man of logic. I gather facts and I make deductions. From what I saw, you—”

“I don’t want to hear your diagnosis, I’m perfectly fine,” Midoriya cuts him off, one hand waving in the air in dismissal. “But seriously, do you want to eat once Tsukauchi-san is done? Since we’re partners we should at least try to get to know each other?”

Todoroki grunts but doesn’t reject his offer. His head jerks up, his attention riveted to the elevator. Tsukauchi was walking towards them, eyes downcast.

“How was it?” Todoroki inquires.

“It wasn’t anything,” the detective sighs, one head holding his forehead. “Natsuhiko doesn’t want anyone to know about Schmidt’s involvement with the criminal world. However, her connection with Tozawa makes her tangled in the Judge’s web. I feel like the closer we’re getting to catching that bastard, the farther we are from unravelling the truth.”

“We’ll catch him.” Todoroki’s voice is unequivocal and his eyes, unmerciful. “We always do.”

Midoriya nods slowly, lips twitching. We’ll see about that.

“I have to go back to the office now. You two…”

“Todoroki and I are going to eat.”

“Oh?” Tsukauchi’s broad smile implies he’s pleased with the news. “Where are you going?”

“We didn’t talk about—”

“We’re going to my house. We didn’t get to talk about what we’re going to eat though. It’ll depend of what my mother will cook but no worries, she’s an amazing chef. Maybe we can request your favourite dish, Todoroki-kun. What is it?”

The main concerned has trouble hiding his surprise, eyes going wide of a fraction. His lips even part as he struggles for half a second too late to come up with an answer. Midoriya can’t be sure what shocked him most between his eating suggestion or the new honorific.

“Soba noodles. The cold one.”

“You have good taste. I don’t think we have some so let’s go to the supermarket first.”

“Alright.”

Even if Todoroki’s answer is dull, Tsukauchi looks overjoyed. “I’m glad to see you two are bonding.”

They part ways at the train station, the detective going northeast while they head towards the south. The subway ride is silent, Midoriya not even trying to strike a conversation. With Tsukauchi gone, there’s no pressure to act friendly.

Of course it’s an act. As Todoroki worded it so eloquently before, there’s not much to gain from this partnership but to accumulate enough information to frame him in a believable way. To know everything about him, to know what saddens him, to know what ticks him off, to know the deep darkness in his soul… and to unleash it.

When they reach the supermarket, he lets Todoroki choose the soba noodles, watching from afar. It’s unreal to see him standing in the middle of an aisle, fingers lodged under his chin in a pensive position, contemplating the many variations of noodles. The Pro Hero belongs to a dimension superior than his, or so Midoriya thought. Both Pro Heroes and Quirkless people live in the same world although the number of privileges they’re given are far from being similar.

“Who’s going to pay?”

Midoriya blinks, grinning, “It’s my treat. Next time you can pay.”

“So you’re entailing I’ll have to treat you as well.”

“Of course. Aren’t you the type to prone equality and justice? It’d be just to return the favour, no?”

“Indeed,” Todoroki murmurs but it’s devoid of any conviction. “How about this one?”

He holds up a brand Midoriya’s never tried before so he shrugs with a vigorous nod.

“Sure, why not? You call the shots.”

If Todoroki’s weirded out by Midoriya’s familiarity he doesn’t utter a sound.

By the time they walk home it’s already eleven thirty. The neighbourhood is bustling with life, business men hurrying to cross the street, a jogger making his daily race with his dog, a group of friends lazing around, tourists taking snaps at the trees coloured with red, orange and yellow hues. If Midoriya forgets he’s actually a murderer and hanging with Todoroki of all people he can almost fit in this idyllic life.

Midoriya’s apartment is empty when they enter, no shoes to be seen on the carpet in the entrance. Todoroki is quick to point it out as he removes his own shoes.

“Your mother isn’t there.”

“Maybe she’s eating at her job. It doesn’t bother you, does it, Todoroki-kun?”

He shakes his head, waiting for Midoriya to lead him further into his home. Since his mother’s the one who tends to the house, the main room is clean and the scent of laundry detergent lingers in the air. While Midoriya’s bedroom isn’t chaotic with clothes strewn on the floor and a desk drowning under papers, it’s still much messier than the other rooms in the apartment.

The soba is ready in about fifteen minutes, Midoriya sliding two plates on the table. It’s silent as he pours two glasses of water and then sits in front of Todoroki.

“Itadakimasu,” Midoriya murmurs before digging in.

Todoroki repeats the word with a slight bow of the head and then begins eating as well. Midoriya watches him from the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. No emotions cross Todoroki’s face as he hums, nodding while slurping his noodles.

“It’s good,” he declares, as if surprised.

“My mum’s training me to be a good cook. If you find this good, you’re going to find hers heavenly.”

Todoroki’s too busy devouring the noodles to answer. Midoriya waits for him to talk, for Todoroki must be asking himself why Midoriya dragged him in his house, but the Pro Hero only opens his mouth to shovel more food in it.

“How about we ask each other questions,” Midoriya offers.

Todoroki looks up from his plate, frowning. “Questions?”

He nods, “To get to know each other, yes.”

“I don’t see any point in doing this.”

“If we’re to become partners, then I want to know who I’ll be fighting with and fighting for. Tsukauchi-san keeps on saying trust goes both ways and I’m willing. Are you?”

Todoroki’s quietness seems to go on forever before his cool voice asks, “Who starts?”

“Since I made the suggestion, I’ll do.” Midoriya feigns deep thinking although he’s stringing questions one after the other, weaving the crucial ones with the innocuous once. “Are you a cat or dog person?”

He wouldn’t have thought that with this first question already Todoroki would be tilting his head to one side, puzzled. “Are you asking me if I’m more like Tamakawa-san or Tsuragamae-san?”

“What? No, I’m asking you if you’re more like a cat or a dog according to your personality.”

It looks like Todoroki’s never heard of the expression because he keeps on sending him unsure glances. Midoriya sighs.

“For example, I’m more of a cat person. I value my independence and sometimes prefer solitude to people’s company, I’m sensitive and kind of neurotic.”

“I assume I’m a cat person as well.”

Midoriya expects Todoroki to elaborate but it’s wishful thinking. He’s starting to get used to this feeling, the expectation of nothingness. Todoroki’s already moving on to his first question.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“I like grey.”

“Grey?” Todoroki repeats. “I’d thought it’d be something much livelier, like green or yellow.”

“It’s a neutral colour. It can either tend towards black’s mysteriousness or silver’s redemption yet it stays in the middle, balanced, in control.”

“A statu quo,” Todoroki murmurs. “I see.”

Midoriya’s starting to be annoyed by what Todoroki can see. “What about yours?”

“Blue.”

“It fits you. It’s better than red.”

He catches Todoroki straightening, as if attacked by the comment. “Why would the second colour coming to your mind be red?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Red may be a colour for some, but for Todoroki it may symbolise the Quirk he half inherited from his father. Blue, on the other hand, represents his mother’s. By using colour psychology and a tad of extrapolation, Midoriya’s discovered more about his relationship with his family than any words coming out of Todoroki’s mouth.

Midoriya sees as well.

“It’s my turn to ask a question. If you get a tattoo, what would it be?”

One of Todoroki’s eyebrows rise but it settles back quickly to its relaxed position. “I considered getting a tattoo once.”

“Really? What kind? Where?”

“A snake curling around my left wrist.”

Midoriya will have to look for more symbolism after that because it’s not like Todoroki to get something meaningless inked permanently on his skin.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“I overcame it.”

Somehow Midoriya knows that Todoroki’s not talking about the tattoo but about something bigger, deeper, something he can’t wait to discover.

“What’s your favourite…” Todoroki stops, pondering, “…sound?”

“Sound? Are you serious?”

“It’s a valid question.”

It is. Most sounds in his life are aggressive: his alarm clock blaring at five thirty in the morning, subway brakes screeching, police sirens growing louder as he approaches the office, harsh keyboard smashing as he edits reports… Otherwise, there are the background noises he doesn’t pay attention to, like people’s mindless chatter or his mother’s cooking sounds as she chops vegetables, stirs sauces and grills fish. Even when he lies down to sleep, he’s not alone because he can hear his mother’s snores from the room next to him and sometimes crickets or laughter drifting to his window.

But the noise he always hears and can never stop is own voice soughing in his ears.

“Silence.”

Todoroki does the eyebrow thing once more. “Silence?”

“Yes.” Realising how contradictory he is, he adds, “Like the silence when you pray in a shrine or when you’re on top of a mountain and gazing down at the clouds.”

“I’ve never experienced either of those but I understand.”

“You’ve never prayed in a shrine? Not even on New Year?”

“I don’t see why I’d pray for a God who doesn’t listen.”

“Maybe you didn’t pray enough,” Midoriya shoots him, shrugging.

“Did He listen to you when you prayed for a Quirk?”

Midoriya is too surprised by Todoroki’s counter to be offended. He prefers not answering, rather skipping to the next question.

“Now that we’re talking about New Year, did you ever keep a New Year’s resolution?”

“Yes.”

Midoriya nods encouragingly, “So? What was it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

It’s not like Midoriya feels like he’s being slapped but he leans back, lips pursing. It appears he’ll have to reveal more about himself if he wants Todoroki to do the same. Trust truly goes both ways.

“Alright. I never did. Keep a resolution, I mean. It’s not that I lack the will to do it, it’s just that I don’t really take this thing seriously. New Year may be the beginning of a new year but you can create resolutions and change your life whenever you want.”

Todoroki doesn’t seem moved by his thought. Midoriya interprets his silence as a polite manner to tell him he’s already aware of that.

“Are there any bad habits you want to break?”

“Well, I mumble a lot when I’m anxious.” This one’s such a easy question it’s laughable. It’s almost a miracle Todoroki has yet to witness his infamous mumbling. “I don’t always realise I’m doing it so feel free to tell me to shut up. I won’t take it personally.”

“Are you prone to mumbling a lot?”

“Yes,” Midoriya admits with a sheepish chuckle. “I told you I’m kind of neurotic.”

“Does it reduce your stress when you mumble?”

“I never thought about it but I think it does. It’s like repressed energy bursting out, you know?”

“Then people shouldn’t tell you to shut up.”

There are definitely many sides to Todoroki Midoriya isn’t familiar with. To see him… perhaps caring isn’t the most suitable word but it’s the only one popping in Midoriya’s mind for the moment. To see him caring, or perhaps it’s his logic speaking, is surprising yet there’s no denying the respect instilling in Midoriya’s mind.

“Who would help you hide a body and why?”

“Yaoyorozu. She’s one of my old classmates and honestly the only one I can think of. Still, I can’t guarantee that she won’t bury my body after that.”

“She sounds formidable.”

A hint of a fleeting smile curls Todoroki’s lips as he whispers, “She is.”

“It’s your turn,” Midoriya reminds him as the silence between them stretches.

“How would you describe the person you’d like to spend your life with?”

Midoriya isn’t sure if there’s a link with that Yayorozu girl and the current question.

“They have to be kind, compassionate, patient. Loving me for who I am, not who I could be.”

“You’d be ready to bare your soul to this person?”

“Of course. If they accept to do the same with me.”

The condition’s always the same. It’s equivalent exchange. If one does something, the other must reciprocate in a certain way. If one gives and the other receives, then the latter must return the favour to fulfil this unspoken debt.

If a Pro Hero takes a life, then the Judge must take his.

“What’s the one thing you’d change in society?”

I’d change the way our society judges people.

“One-sided perspectives.” Todoroki announces after a few seconds of silence. “Society is based on communication. What we know and how we’re shaped is because of our family, friends, teachers, colleagues and other people we’re interacting with. We’re always in contact with someone through the news, the social networks and even the food we buy at the supermarket. Yet we’re not able to communicate properly because we can never know what the others think, how they feel, what they lived through, how they perceive the world and their impression of people.”

“So you’d… like us to be all linked telepathically?”

“I want more understanding, more empathy, more wondering, more trying. I know it’s impossible to fully comprehend what goes through someone’s mind but we should make the effort to acknowledge their opinion and consider their perspective.”

“Did you acknowledge the Judge’s opinion?”

“It’s hard not to so he imposed it by killing three people. However, we’re missing pieces. Even if it’s clear that he committed crimes and that he’ll probably be incarcerated, I want to know what pushed him to go this far, to grasp his character.”

“There’s not much to see,” Midoriya smiles mirthlessly.

“Perhaps, but I want to see what there is. I want to understand.”

“Don’t we all? The thirst for knowledge sometimes is bigger than the one for money or power.”

“And you, Midoriya, I assume the one you’d change in society is how the majority of people are blessed with a Quirk but others like you are not.”

The conversation has shifted to him before he realises it. He underestimated Todoroki, after all. He may not be a person who talks a lot but when he does, he knows how to.

“I never said—”

“So answer my question,” Todoroki continues, “what Quirk would you want to have?”

Midoriya’s never thought about it. He dreamed of having one, yes, but he didn’t have a definite idea. He desires the essence, what it entails to have a Quirk, the sense of belonging it procures. Stripped bare, a Quirk’s but a power you’re born with. You don’t get to choose it. You have it or you don’t, it’s that simple. It’s a bit like talent. Some are talented singers while others can never hit the right notes, no matter how hard they tried.

A tone deaf person wouldn’t know what to answer if asked what song they’d like to sing if they suddenly possessed a musical ear.

“I’d take anything,” Midoriya confesses. “It goes without saying that I’d like to have a Quirk like All Might or like yours but that’s not the point. It’s the wielder who brings out the best of his Quirk, not the other way around. So I’d take anything and I’d work with it to help people.”

“That’s a good answer.”

It never occurred to Midoriya before this precise instant that Todoroki could also be testing him. The man’s smart, a frighteningly rational smart type, who occasionally trials him.

Midoriya smiles. He’s starting to like this.

“My turn,” he declares, bubbling with zeal. “Who’s the person who influenced you the most?”

“What do you mean by ‘influence’?”

“The one person who had the most impact on your life, whether positively or negatively, and who shaped you the way you are.”

Midoriya marvels at the brooding expression overtaking his features. His entire body is like a coiled spring, tense, and his jaw is clenched hard enough to crack nuts. Shadows catch his face, highlighting his turquoise eye’s gleam in contrast with his scarred, purplish skin.

“Following this definition, I’ll have to say my father.”

Midoriya keeps on pushing, “It must’ve been intense to have Endeavor as a father, no?”

“Intense is the right word.”

“After all, you possess his Quirk on top of your mother’s. I guess he trained you to become a Hero even before Yuuei, so you must be thankful for his teachings.”

Todoroki’s eyes darken. “It is true he did train me.”

“The world of Pro Heroes was already yours the second you were born. It’s like a dream, isn’t it?”

“I also thought it was too unreal to be true.”

“But it is true and that’s why it’s amazing. You owe your father a lot. I hope you realise it.”

This time, Todoroki doesn’t answer. He rises, taking the now empty plates in his hands, and carries them to the kitchen. Instead of coming back, he remains planted where he is and turns the faucet, hot water gushing out in the sink where he dumps the dishes. He fumbles with the drawers, looking for the liquid dish detergent and the sponge.

“I can wash them later, Todoroki-kun. Besides, it’s my job since you’re my guest.”

“How do you judge people, Midoriya?”

Midoriya’s smile is frozen as he hesitates. Perhaps he misheard. That must be it. Todoroki’s causing a ruckus by grabbing more cookware and tossing it along with the plates.

“Todoroki-kun?”

“Please answer the question.”

The sound of flowing water fills the room. The friendly atmosphere has soured. Midoriya senses it, like the clouds covering a clear sky a little too fast, or the slight breeze picking up speed and blowing through the fields. Even if seeing Todoroki washing his dishes in his own kitchen makes him want to laugh, he feels nothing but skyrocketing dread.

“I wouldn’t change how some people have Quirk while others don’t. That’s not the root of the problem. What bothers me with society is the way to judge, the criteria with which we determine a person’s worth. According to them, I’m more of a liability than anything since I’m Quirkless. That’s something I was led to believe and that I believed until very recently.”

Todoroki’s listening attentively, even if he’s drowning the dishes with soap and scrubbing them clean. Midoriya’s grateful he doesn’t have to stare at Todoroki’s face and unblinking eyes. His back’s much more welcoming.

“I also concede that one sided perspectives plague our society, and that makes it even harder to judge a person. There’s no correct way to judge a person without being omniscient. I think there’ll always be a slight margin of error that can be fatal in condemning people or letting them roam free. However, there are actions that differentiate people. Your helpfulness, for example.”

Todoroki stills for a second, grunting, “What do you mean?”

“You cleaning the dishes while you’re the guest demonstrate that you’re a generous nature. Most people would shrug it off, saying that since they’re the guest they shouldn’t help. It’s a sign of benevolence and of a polite behaviour.”

“This is nonsense.”

“It’s not. You’d be surprised how much we learn about someone just by observing their actions and reactions. It still baffles me, to be honest.”

Todoroki puts a plate on the dish rack, watching his work. His hands are red, glistening with water, and foam coats his knuckles.

“Why didn’t you put the rubber gloves? They were right next to the dish detergent.”

“It’s your turn,” Todoroki tells him, ignoring him.

“What did you first think of me when we met and has your view changed?”

The Pro Hero meets his eyes. “What I first thought of you?”

“Be honest,” Midoriya confirms, although Todoroki’s always been honest with him.

“I thought you didn’t quite fit in. You don’t have the body, the eyes, the presence of a police officer. Despite having none of these attributes, I think I know why Tsukauchi keeps you around. You’re perspicacious and astute but you’re a loose one. The second he looks away, you’ll be gone.”

“And now?”

“And now, nothing. I don’t know enough about you to add anything more.” Todoroki turns to him, bowing. “Today was insightful. Thank you.”

Midoriya stares, then reveals, “I thought you were giving yourself mysterious airs when we first met. On the phone, you sounded half-asleep, as if you didn’t care much about your Hero Office. Then we… disagreed on many things but you always were so composed. I wanted to break what I thought was a facade but it seems you really always are silent and poised.”

Todoroki sits back in front of him, again proving Midoriya right by expressing no emotion whatsoever. There’s a pause, as if Todoroki’s bracing himself, then he offers him a smile. It’s more a line with its edges pointing upwards than a natural curve but Midoriya appreciates the effort.

“Actually, I was sleeping when you called me. My Hero Office’s my apartment.”

Midoriya would’ve thought a Pro Hero as powerful and experienced as Todoroki would be working in a building twice the size of the Police Force’s with a horde of sidekicks.

“If I gave you the impression that I was arrogant, I apologise. I don’t consider myself arrogant but I believe in my abilities. I also may appear standoffish since I’m not used to working with people.”

“But didn’t you have teamwork assignments at Yuuei?”

It’s a false question because Midoriya knows exactly what the lucky Yuuei students learn. Once in a lifetime, when he believed he had a chance of passing the exams, he devoured the academic pamphlet talking about the numerous classes offered to those in the Heroic program. It’s more demanding since a supplementary class is added at the end of the day and on top of homework, students go through simulations and summer camps, but in Midoriya’s eyes it was paradise.

Teamwork is one of the basics of Yuuei’s Heroic program. Pro Heroes have to help each other since they’re striving towards the same goal. Yuuei teaches its students how fundamental it is to put aside any animosity or competition between Pro Heroes when lives are at stake. If Todoroki says he’s not used to it, does it mean he focuses on himself?

“I prefer battling one on one while others rescue civilians. Yaoyorozu berated me when I acted like that. ‘Trust your comrades’, she always told me.”

Midoriya chews his lower lip, cursing himself for thinking so fast, for judging so fast. With Todoroki’s terrific power, Midoriya has no doubts that he can fend for himself just fine but this Yaoyorozu is right. Pro Heroes have to collaborate. There may be situations where his Quirk will be handier to save civilians instead of fighting, thus Todoroki must have faith in his comrades’ skills and and accept his position.

Of course, in their situation, Todoroki will most likely distract criminals while Midoriya sneaks around and sabotages. But should come a time when the roles are reversed…

“You can trust me, Todoroki-kun. I may not look like much but I—”

Midoriya jolts, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He’s ready to mute it when he catches the name on the screen: Moonstone. He excuses himself to Todoroki and doesn’t wait for his answer, slipping away and locking himself in his bedroom.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Oh, so you’re done weeping? I need you to come at headquarters now.”

“I’ll gladly come later because we have to clear some things but right now I’m—”

“Kozo, don’t force me to drag you here by myself. That Hero you’re with doesn’t stand a chance. Do you want a second round of our last encounter?”

His breath hitches, his hand unconsciously moving to where his injury’s healing, fingers ghosting over his shirt. It’s not that he worries about Todoroki but it would be hard to explain to his mother that a Pro Hero was murdered in her house.

“It won’t be necessary. Give me five minutes.”

“Make it two. Kurogiri’s contacting your agents and then it’s your turn.”

Midoriya storms out of his room to see Todoroki already in the entrance, putting on his shoes. The latter perks up, offering him once more his strained smile.

“I figured my presence has become an inconvenience.”

“What are you saying? I enjoyed this conversation.”

It’s the truth. Todoroki isn’t a bad guy, not even a bad Pro Hero. His silence may be intimidating but once it’s broken, despite his curt answers, he’s pleasant to talk to. He doesn’t have his mother’s overprotective nature or Tsukauchi’s awkward boss-trying-to-be-friendly attitude. While they might not entirely be equals, it’s refreshing to feel like they are. Todoroki doesn’t belittle him, doesn’t walk on eggshells and doesn’t worry too much as if Midoriya’s a helpless child.

“I didn’t expect it but I enjoyed it as well.”

As blunt as ever. He walks out with Todoroki up to the stairs, leaning on the banister as he watches the Pro Hero leaving.

“We’ll see each other in a week at the office?”

Todoroki looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t I have to treat you as well?”

“It doesn’t have to be in the same week, you know.”

“I insist.” Midoriya can’t fathom how he can remain so calm while asking this. “I’ll text you the date and location.”

Midoriya nods distractedly before shaking his head in realisation.

“Wait, how come you have my phone number?”

But Todoroki’s already left the building, the door closing noiselessly behind him. Midoriya sighs, retreating inside his apartment. He falters when he sees Kurogiri’s putting away the plates Todoroki washed in his kitchen. Midoriya doesn’t what’s worse between the fact that Kurogiri’s acting like his mother or that he knows exactly where the plates go.

“Midoriya,” the villain bows once he notices him. “It’s time.”

“Are you sure it’s alright that I’m wearing my police uniform?”

“I don’t see any problem. Now, step forward. Tomura’s impatient.”

Midoriya complies, the gut-twisting sensation he feels each time he’s stepping through Kurogiri’s warp gates almost makes him puke his lunch. His entrance isn’t very dignified, with one hand over his mouth and the other clutching his stomach, his face turning as green as his hair. Dabi’s snickering while Toga lunges at Midoriya, a wide grin splitting her face.

“Congratulations on your first kill!”

“T-Thanks,” he manages to choke, asking Tomura for help by sending him a desperate glance.

The villain wrenches him from Toga, growling, “It’s enough.”

As soon as he’s free, Tomura wraps a arm around his neck like a wrestling headlock. Midoriya winces at the harsh grip but doesn’t try to pull free since any resistance could result in his neck being disintegrated by Tomura’s Quirk.

“What’s this little tryst about with Endeavor Number Two?”

“It wasn’t anything romantic. We were discussing. I want to frame him for the Judge’s crimes.”

Tomura breaks into a grin, swirling around to face the other villains.

“Attention, gentlemen, lady,” he adds as he snorts towards Toga. “I present you… the Judge.”

Toga claps excitedly, her shrill peals of laughter as painful as Tomura’s hold. Dabi rolls his eyes, clearly questioning himself why he’s here, and Kurogiri blinks in silence. Tomura releases Midoriya, then pushes him forward. He stumbles and almost falls flat in his face but catches himself on the sofa. He looks up to ravenous eyes, a bored moue and a stoical expression.

Midoriya’s aware he’s supposed to make a speech but his lips are sealed, no words coming in his mind. He startles when Tomura’s hand falls on his shoulder.
“The first blood has been spilled by the disciples, proving their worth. Now that the Judge himself has bitten the sweetest fruit, the forbidden one of murder, the ball is officially open. Tell me, Judge, have you chosen your next victim?”

“I…” The list was long and cleansing would take time but… he doesn’t know. “I made categories. There are three infractions that can be done and for now, I’ve… we’ve selected people who broke all of them. I call them the duties”

“You did mention on your website the type of crime the Pro Heroes you selected committed,” Kurogiri notes.

“Yes. There are three duties: duty to act, to rescue and to honour. The duty to act urges Pro Heroes to take action when they witness villainy. If they think their being alone won’t suffice, then they’re bound to call for reinforcements and evacuate the civilians present.

“The duty to rescue entails that they have to save and protect civilians who call for help and those they find on their path. If Pro Heroes face the choice of pursuing a villain or saving a life, they must choose the latter.

“Finally, the duty to honour consists of being transparent and committing no crimes, whether it corresponds to violating the duties mentioned above or to crimes related to their personal life. Pro Heroes mustn’t get involved with any crimes of any kinds and of any gravity.

“I was thinking we could all strike in one night with a few hours between each crime, targeting one who failed in each category. It would reinforce the message that Pro Heroes who are guilty must be judged and will be judged.”

The reactions he receives aren’t the most enthusiastic but it also isn’t plain rejection. There’s hope.

“I’ll select the victims this week,” Midoriya declares, pouring authority in his voice. “Let’s meet here around ten in the evening and I’ll tell you the plan.”

“Because there’s a plan?” Dabi interjects. “Didn’t know we were following one.”

“This is so exciting, I can’t wait!” Toga cackles.

Yes, there is hope.

“If you may, I shall take you back to where I picked you.”

Toga’s the first to leave after sending a butterfly kiss in Midoriya’s direction, hopping in Kurogiri’s portal without hesitation. Dabi’s slower as he approaches the swirling gate, glancing over his shoulder to glare at Midoriya.

“I don’t know why I bothered coming here.”

He disappears with one last snort, leaving Midoriya alone with the League’s members. Tomura’s quick to drop on the couch at his usual spot, sprawling his legs on the table before him. It’s a new one, Midoriya notices, not made of glass like the previous one but of sturdy metal.

“The brat will come back,” Tomura assures him. “He would’ve left before if he wasn’t interested.”

“What was your agreement with Tozawa?”

The villain isn’t fazed by Midoriya’s abruptness, rather nodding pensively as he scratches his neck.

“Ah, yes, you killed her. A regrettable choice and a poor execution. Tozawa was our information broker, providing us with some Heroes’ whereabouts and future meetings. But we don’t need her anymore since we have you, do we?”

“Why did you kill Liliana Schmidt?”

Tomura’s smile doesn’t waver. “Because Liliana Schmidt knew who you were.”

Midoriya’s heart skips a beat. It can’t be. She would’ve recognised him when he entered with Todoroki. She would’ve said something.

“She saw you getting out of Tozawa’s apartment. I assumed she wanted to tell the police but when she realised one of her interrogators was in the room… well, her hands were tied. When you left her alone, it was evident Todoroki was about to send you away while he would resume the interrogation and she would’ve told him. So I killed her.”

Something’s wrong.

“You know too much.”

“You are right, my dear Judge.”

Midoriya stiffens, moving into a defensive stance. The voice came from behind Tomura but there’s nothing there except for a computer. Midoriya’s never seen it active, for not even Tomura touches it, even if he likes to play video games on any type of console he can find. He classified it as a forgotten object gathering dust in the corner. He should’ve known the League disposes of anything that doesn’t fulfil a specific goal.

“I say he fails, Sensei,” Tomura declares, his attention fixed on Midoriya.

“He doesn’t, on the contrary.”

Midoriya’s convinced now that the voice comes from the computer. He lowers his fists but can’t shake the tension out of his body. For someone as childish and stubborn as Tomura to call a man his sensei, a revered master, he must be the true League of Villain’s leader.

“I’ve been observing you from afar,” the voice continues, addressing himself to Midoriya. “Schmidt was endangering your position so I asked Tomura to neutralise her. It would’ve been a shame for your journey to be cut so short. I’ve seen everything there is to be seen from the birth of your concept, its realisation, your doubts, your fear, your awakening…”

A shiver rakes Midoriya’s body. “Pardon me but who are you?”

“You may know me as All for One but if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’ll learn soon enough who I am.”

“Sensei, he’s not worth it,” Tomura growls. “His plans don’t make sense.”

“Hush, Tomura. The Judge has exceeded his first impression and passed the test.”

Midoriya feels like he’s intruding, like he’s eavesdropping a secret conversation he shouldn’t be hearing, and Tomura’s glower doesn’t help. He considers asking Kurogiri to take him home when the voice — All for One — speaks again.

“Midoriya Izuku, it’s time for society to consider you seriously.”

Midoriya has trouble breathing. He wonders if it’s his imagination or if the temperature climbed of a few degrees, making his palms clammy and his clothes stick to his skin.

“How about I grant you your deepest wish and give you a Quirk?” 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN

 Entrusted

“Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.”
― Khalil Gibran
 

He knows he must be very still while he waits.

“Don’t move from your room, Shouto.” Her words had been very clear despite the strain in her voice. “Don’t make a sound. Mummy will come back.”

She still isn’t back. The room’s cold, plunged in darkness, and he’s huddled in a corner with his hands rubbing his forearms. Only his left side can provide him with warmth but this isn’t the warmth he was seeking. He wants his mummy’s. Still, he doesn’t dare defying her orders by searching for her in the vast house. She ever so rarely demands something, but when she does, there’s always a definite purpose. If she wants him not to move, then there’s a reason.

Shouto jolts when he hears the distant sound of something shattering. Their house’s devoid of any knickknacks or heirloom vases. Either someone crashed in a mirror or dropped a glass. He can’t be sure which one was preferable.

The doorknob twists but the door doesn’t budge. He curls around himself, his breath quivering. His mother’s back but she isn’t alone. Shouto buries his face in the hollow between his knees and his chest, wincing as his father kicks the door once, twice, thrice.

“Where’s the key?”

“He’s not in his room, I told you.”

“And I tell you where’s the key?”

“Are you deaf? He’s not in his room.”

A terrible sound echoes, like lightning hitting a tree and shattering its trunk. His mother cries out. Shouto screws his eyes shut.

“I’m going to burn this door down if I have to.”

“He’s only five…”

Shouto doesn’t like the sound of her voice. It’s still gentle — he rarely ever hears his mummy rising her voice — but instead of conveying comfort it’s fraying, defeated. A lump’s stuck in his throat and even if he tries, he’s unable to swallow it down. He’s the reason of her despair.

“He’s been ready since he was four.”

Then the door explodes. Shouto shields his face as splinters hurtle in his direction. Some prick him and get stuck in his skin, but it hurts less than the look on his mother’s face. In front of her stands his father, towering, clad in flames. His expression’s austere as he gazes down on him.

“Get up,” he growls.

Shouto glances at his mother. She’s hiding her face in her hands, her body half-turned away as if she’s about to leave. Even from afar, he can catch her shoulders trembling in silence.

“Don’t be childish, Shouto.”

He himself is quaking in fear, but he remembers his mummy telling him not to move. He won’t move until she tells him he can. Thus Shouto shakes his head, pressing his back against the wall as if he can glue himself to it.

His father glares, “Stupid boy.”

He takes one step forward. It happens faster than Shouto can comprehend. A barrier of ice is separating him from his father, spikes ready to skewer Endeavor if he dares advancing. Behind him, Shouto’s mother breathes deeply, one arm outstretched, fingers splayed.

“You won’t touch him.”

His father snickers at her words and puts one hand on the barrier. Flames engulf her creation, melting it. Shouto can’t see his parents’ face because of the evaporating water creating a curtain of steam between them.

“Why are you so protective? I would never hurt him.”

“As if I can believe it.”

“Let’s ask Shouto then. Would I hurt you?”

His mummy was caressing his cheeks, whispering, Don’t make a sound.

Silence is his answer and it doesn’t please his father.

“Is this entire family against me?”

“Maybe if you acted like a father, your family as you say wouldn’t hate you.”

His father whirls around, one hand slapping her face. The impact’s so violent she collapses on the ground, her begging to leave Shouto alone interlacing her own pleas not to hurt her. Shouto wants to reach out, to wipe her eyes, to stand tall between her and his father but he’s paralysed.

It’s not because of his mummy’s order, this time.

Shouto watches in horror as his father proceeds to drag her out of the room by her hair. She isn’t protesting, this time. She’s like a limp doll cast away without any regrets. The door slams. Shouto wants to shrink on himself as his father’s attention darts on him.

“Now that your mother won’t interfere, let’s have some quality time together, son.”

Mummy will come back.

But she didn’t.

Todoroki wakes up to his smoke detector ringing. He groans and buries his head under his pillow, trying to muffle his ears. It’s the third time this week. If it continues like this, he wonders if he’ll get kicked out of the apartment block for disturbing the residents’ peace.

Taking a deep breath and searching for motivation, he rises from his futon and glances up at the detector, squinting. In an outburst of annoyance, he throws a spike of ice that pierces through the batteries and englobes the entire detector. The machine lets out a faint whistle before before shattering in tiny shards that rain on him. He doesn’t feel any better as a dozen tiny fractured reflections stare back at him.

Todoroki sighs and turns on the radio, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s seven o’clock sharp and you’re listening to Hero News!”

He opens the fridge, staring at the few items on his otherwise empty shelves. He’ll have to replenish his food stock… or he can order takeout like yesterday, and the day before that as well, or the entire previous week. He’s not sure his wallet will cooperate, though.

“Today we’re reviewing our Heroes’ last feats and we’re receiving in our studio Pro Hero Number Four, Bean Jeanist. However, before that, I have an important announcement.”

Todoroki stifles a yawn and folds his futon, storing it in one of the numerous cardboards lingering in his small living room. It’s been close to a month he got this apartment but he has yet to unpack. To be honest, he doesn’t think he’ll stay here for long with his smoke detector always ringing.

“We learned that a Pro Hero was hired by the Police Force to work alongside Detective Tsukauchi to solve the Judge case that began a three weeks ago.”

He stills, turning around to look at the radio.

“To refresh your mind, the Judge already claimed three victims, all Pro Heroes. The Police Force prioritises this case above all others and offers a bounty on his head. If you have any information, please contact them or Pro Hero Shouto.”

As if on cue his cellphone buzzes, drawing his attention. He winces as he catches the ID and answers after turning off the radio.

“Yes?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“Explain.”

Todoroki grimaces and sits down, leaning against a cardboard box. “I was about to tell you, I swear, but I’ve been busy with the case and all...”

“How much are they paying you?”

“That’s why you’re calling me?”

“Todoroki, I’m serious.” He grimaces at her voice’s seriousness. “How much are they paying you?”

He struggles to find a plausible lie. “Enough.”

“You paused before you answered.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. It’s not enough.”

He sighs, his head hanging low. “Yaoyorozu, I don’t need your charity.”

“It isn’t your charity because I’m not giving you money, I’m lending you money. Also, I wouldn’t lend it to anyone but since you’re my friend, I’m doing it with pleasure. If I were you, I’d be glad I have such caring friends.”

Todoroki chuckles, one hand kneading his forehead. He can’t rival with Yaoyorozu’s implacable morality and ingeniousness. Leave it to her to switch the tables and change your perspective.

“I’m glad, trust me. I’m thankful.”

“Then I’m sending you the same amount as last time?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He’s not sure where he would be without her help. Stranded on the streets, perhaps, in an igloo he would’ve created with his Quirk. Still, he has to swallow his pride and accepts help given so generously by one of his few friends. He has to trust his comrades, like she always told him.

“How is it with the Police Force? You’re not overworking, right? Wait, I’m talking to Todoroki Shouto. Of course you’ll overwork.”

“I’m trying not to but it’s hard when you have to catch such a dangerous criminal.”

“Any leads?”

“Midoriya thinks the Judge’s targeting Pro Heroes guilty of specific crimes, not just because they’re Pro Heroes. To be honest, this hypothesis seems most reasonable.”

“Midoriya? Is he your new friend?”

Friend? More like reluctant partner whom Todoroki doesn’t trust.

“Colleague,” he rectifies but the damage is done.

“I have to meet him.”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs.

“Is he free today? Ask him if we can go eat.”

“Yaoyorozu—”

“I’ll be paying. How about we go to the new soba noodles restaurant that opened near Yuuei? You told me you wanted to go.”

“I already ate soba with Midoriya, thank you very much—”

“So you two had a date?”

Todoroki is grateful they’re not having a face to face conversation or else she would’ve caught his cheeks flushing with embarrassing scarlet.

“We talked about work,” he corrects but it sounds fake even to his own ears.

“Call him.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then you leave me no choice. I’m going to come at your office and borrow him for a while.”

Todoroki wouldn’t believe any other girl but since it’s her, he can never be sure of anything.

“Yaoyorozu, that’s not—”

“I’ll come on Monday then. See you there.”

Even if she hung up on those words, he can’t bring himself to dislike her for a second.

“Welcome back, troublemaker.”

A week has passed and the office hasn’t changed since Midoriya last stood here. Medusa, the cactus, plant, or whatever it really is, is as healthy as ever. Apparently Tamakawa took care of it when they were gone. His colleagues all look weary, shoulders drooping as they stare at files or at their computer screen. On the wall Tsukauchi’s mind map hasn’t expanded. All signs point to stagnation.

“Where’s Todoroki-san?”

Midoriya shrugs at Tsukauchi’s question. How should he know? One lunch didn’t miraculously change their relationship. Todoroki didn’t even keep his word of texting him for another lunch in the same week. To think Midoriya was glued to his phone waiting for that message like a fool makes him disgusted with himself.

“Maybe he took a day off.”

The detective’s pensive expression doesn’t change but he moves on. “Midoriya-kun, I want you in the archives today. Subaru drew a list of potential criminals who could be the Judge and I’d like you to find their files.”

Why did I bother coming here today again?

The archives, located in the basement, have been spared from the fire. It’s a room all in white, with immaculate walls, ceiling and floor, the shelves filled with binders all neatly organised by chronological order.

Midoriya spends the next five hours searching for files he doesn’t care about, knowing how useless his work is since his mind’s already set to frame someone in particular. Todoroki isn’t the perfect candidate and no one will be, but he’s the closest he’s going to get.

When the clock nears noon, Midoriya trudges back to the office. To his surprise, none of the senior members are present. Instead, Todoroki’s lounging at his desk and opposite him is a woman in a chic suit, sitting on Midoriya’s chair. She turns to him, her mouth shaped like a perfect ‘o’ as she watches him like one of the world wonders.

“Is this him?”

“Yes, he’s my partner, Midoriya Izuku.”

Midoriya doesn’t understand why Todoroki’s emphasising the word. Perhaps the Pro Hero has trouble admitting it, his tone full of disinclination. But what strikes Midoriya is how the constant tenseness in Todoroki’s shoulders has vanished and the fire lighting up in his normally dull eyes.

The woman, however, leaps on his feet and bows, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Midoriya. I’m Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki’s friend.”

That’s when Midoriya remembers. Todoroki mentioned her when they were discussing. Plus, Midoriya searched all of Todoroki’s old classmates and listed down their name, their Quirk and analysed their strength. Yaoyorozu Momo was one of the names figuring on his list as a redoubtable opponent with her Creation Quirk, allowing her to create any non-living material, and her intelligence ranked as outstanding.

Todoroki sighs and then, abruptly, he’s back to being the Todoroki Midoriya knows. “Yaoyorozu was about to leave.”

“What are you saying, Todoroki? I’m enchanted to meet one of your friends.”

Surprisingly, Todoroki doesn’t deny it. Midoriya’s ready to bet his money that an alien replaced his partner, but then again perhaps that’s how Todoroki perceives him. Midoriya shakes his head. The idea’s inconceivable. Perhaps that’s what Todoroki told Yaoyorozu about their relationship to appear more admirable.

“You were on your way to eat, right, Midoriya? How about we lunch together? Todoroki told me he had to treat you this week but he had so many calls at his Hero Office that he was forced to postpone his plans with you.”

Midoriya’s narrowed eyes flicker to Todoroki, searching for any deceit. He can’t say if it’s the truth or a lie since he has no information on his doings as Pro Hero. It’s logical that Todoroki was busy as a Pro Hero since it’s his primary job. Helping Tsukauchi catch him the Judge is secondary, and Midoriya agrees with this way of thinking. Pro Heroes should focus on saving citizens, not on catching someone who’s judging them like they should be.

Yaoyorozu gasps, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Midoriya frowns as she elbows Todoroki as if she wants him to say something. It comes out as quite unconvincing, Todoroki’s eyes avoiding his.

“I was busy,” he mumbles.

“Just forget about him, Midoriya. Todoroki, you don’t mind if we lunch together, do you?”

Todoroki looks like he does mind, his whole face paling and his lips parting to say something, but Yaoyorozu’s arm has already snaked around his neck and she’s dragging him out of the room. Midoriya feels anxiety rising within him like the tide; he knows little to nothing about her except for her status as Pro Hero. He also has no anecdotes to share about Todoroki to entertain her.

It’s just lunch.

Yes, just lunch. There’s nothing to fear. If anything, he can try to gain more information about Todoroki from her. Taking a deep breath, Midoriya struggles to steady his breathing as his mind spins. Did Todoroki tell her about his Quirklessness? What if she has no idea? Would she be repulsed when she’ll learn about his state?

It’s just lunch.

But the words blurt out of his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t mind a person like me?”

Midoriya hates the insecurity leaking through his words, but Yaoyorozu pats his shoulder with a wink. “Todoroki’s friends are my friends.”

The reply’s immediate, shoulders hunching down a little. “I’m not his friend.”

“You lasted two week, right? That’s enough proof for me.”

Unsure of how to feel, Midoriya replies with a nod. He doesn’t even know if she knows and frankly, he assumes it doesn’t matter.

Yaoyorozu leads him to a small restaurant. It looks charming, with frames depicting harbours and boats in the raging sea. Plants are bathing in sunlight near the windows, reminding him of Medusa. There aren’t a lot of tables but they’re the only customers. They sit at a table near the window and Midoriya’s attention latches on the people strolling outside.

“It’ll be on my bill,” Yaoyorozu told the waiter as soon as they entered.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Midoriya whispers, cheeks rosy.

“You brought yourself. I think that’s the greatest gift you can give someone.”

Midoriya observes him, realising she’s honest. Her eyes shine with gentleness, a smile brightening her countenance. Midoriya forces himself to slacken his stiff posture, to adapt to this casual setting.

“Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san.”

She winks at him, leaning closer to him as he’s about to tell her a secret.

“So, why are you here?”

Midoriya hesitates, “I’m sorry if I misheard but I thought you–”

“Midoriya, let’s face it: we’re strangers. Nothing forced you to accept my proposition. Surely you had a reason to come here?”

He smiles shakily as he clasps his hands together. “You insisted so I wouldn’t hold a grudge against Todoroki. You do have his interests at heart.”

Yaoyorozu swats an imaginary fly. “That was an excuse. What’s your real reason?”

“I...” He falters, wondering what her reaction would be. “I want to know more about him.”

“I can’t tell you anything about him,” is her reply after a short moment of silence, “but I can show you the way. Todoroki’s a tough nut to crack but I’m sure that after this, you’ll know how to approach him.”

Midoriya feels like an invisible burden was lifted off his shoulders. That’s all he needs, really. By gaining her trust, he can gain his. He’s able to smile at her, completely at ease.

“It would be most appreciated.”

“So, are you good at hand-to-hand combat?”

The question’s so unexpected that he has to think not to stutter like a beginner. In all humility, he considers himself skilled. With Tsukauchi mentoring him and his own personal daily training, he has sharp reflexes and endurance.

“I manage,” is all he can think of. “How did you know about that?”

“Just a gut feeling, that’s all. How about with guns? Sniping?”

“I manage,” he repeats, but this time he’s closer to the truth.

“Tell me, why did you accept to be on the Judge’s case? If you only manage as you say yourself, shouldn’t you let the experts catch the big fish?”

Yaoyorozu, despite her carefree air and friendliness, is a clever one. Even if she’s subtly pointing out his Quirklessness, Midoriya doesn’t feel as attacked as usual. She suspects him of something but what scares him most is that he has no data on her, no inkling of what he’s being suspected of.

“I’m Tsukauchi-san’s protégé, so the decision isn’t mine.”

“He must really like you then,” she answers back, “or you’re better than you let on.” Midoriya’s beginning to feel uneasy when Yaoyorozu pulls back, sheepish. “I apologise.”

“… there’s no need to.”

The awkward situation dies when a waiter comes to take their orders, and since Midoriya didn’t even open his menu he orders the same thing as Yaoyorozu. When the waiter is gone, he turns to her and almost startles back in fear. Her eyes have grown cold and he feels crucified under her gaze. She hasn’t moved from her seat but she looks taller, bigger, her presence crushing him.

“Did the Judge hire you to kill Todoroki?” Midoriya almost chokes but the woman’s terrifying eyes stops him. “Don’t even think of lying to me, Midoriya.”

“I swear I’m not. I’m working with Todoroki, not against him.”

His answer is relatively calm even if he doesn’t feel so confident. Yaoyorozu’s eyes don’t waver from him. They’re unmoving, lacking of the warmth they showed earlier, and Midoriya fleetingly thinks that she might have suspected him to be an enemy the second they met, that she invited him here to isolate him and conduct this interrogation. He’s been so focused on watching Todoroki acting unlike himself that he forgot to assess her. It could’ve been a mistake costing him his life, but then again he isn’t lying.

As long as Todoroki acts like a worthy Pro Hero, the Judge won’t kill him.

“Alright. What about his father?”

“His father?”

“Did Endeavor hire you to spy on Todoroki?”

“What?” What does Endeavor have to do with anything? “The hell, no.”

Yaoyorozu relaxes, leaning on the back of the seat. Even if remnants of suspicion are visible in his orbs, she regains his amiability.

“Good. I hate threatening people. I know you think I’m crazy with this interrogation, but I’d rather not take any risk.”

Midoriya, still shaken, stares at her, immobile. “I understand.”

“I know how irritating he can be, how he prefers to be alone and isn’t the best to express his emotions. I have no objection that you think of killing him, really. Even I do sometimes. As long as you don’t do anything, of course.”

“Sure?”

Yaoyorozu’s face is tinged pink. “I’m not always like that. I just worry about him. I don’t see him very often so... would you mind informing me?”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Wait, I’m having a hard time following you. One second ago you were threatening me if I worked for someone and now you want me to work for you?”

“It’s nothing like that. I just want to make sure he’s alright, so you don’t have to tell me everyday. Once in a while’s enough. I can even pay you if you want.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Midoriya feels like he’s the one in control. He doesn’t understand how Todoroki of all people managed to befriend someone as dedicated as Yaoyorozu but he can use her concern to his advantage.

“Since we’re partners, I think it’s my duty to make sure he’s alright. His wellbeing will affect our work, after all. You mentioned his father before. What did he do?”

She frowns, shifting on her seat. “I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you.”

“Yaoyorozu-san, you know how reserved Todoroki is. I have to know what I’m looking for if I want to have a chance to understand him.”

After a second of silence she yields, sighing, “Alright, I’ll tell you.”

Midoriya has to grab his napkin and wipe his lips to hide his grin. Right into my hands.

“Todoroki and his father have a rocky past. I won’t tell you all the details but I can tell you that the simple mention of Endeavor puts him on edge. If Todoroki stays silent for too long it’s not a good sign. He also may try to leave the room or if he can’t, avoid eye contact and recoil from touch.”

The signs are familiar. Todoroki was lost in his world after Chief Tsuragamae had mentioned his father and when Midoriya touched him to pull him out of his thoughts, he had jerked away like he’d been burned. Plus, the question Midoriya asked about the person who influenced him the most… Todoroki had busied himself with washing dishes, hiding from him.

“Alright but what did his father do?”

“He… He didn’t act like a father.”

It’s as far as Yaoyorozu’s willing to go. She’s fidgeting, perhaps wondering if she betrayed Todoroki by making Midoriya privy to his situation. Too bad for her if she regrets or doubts her decision. Midoriya, however, is truly grateful.

“I’ll make sure that what you told me won’t go to waste.”

“Can I count on you to stop him from doing anything stupid?”

Midoriya never would’ve dreamed of hearing ‘Todoroki’ and ‘stupid’ in the same sentence, but Yaoyorozu’s looking at him intently.

“Please, it’s important. I need to know if you’ll look after him.”

“I’m sure he can look after himself in a fight, so I’ll look after him… in the aftermath.”

“I thank you.”

She bows her head so low it almost hits the table. It’s so solemn that Midoriya’s sure he’s about to receive a certificate proclaiming him as Todoroki’s personal bodyguard. Then the sensation flies away as Yaoyorozu’s smile effortlessly curls his lips. She enthusiastically catches her glass in one hand, the water almost spilling out.

“Let’s cheer to your friendship with Todoroki.”

Midoriya copies his movement, smiling. “Cheers.”

He downs his glass, beaming at her.

Too bad it won’t last long.

“Judge, are you alright? You look pale suddenly.”

Midoriya blinks, his breathing short. His eyes dart all on Tomura and Kurogiri’s impassive expressions before focusing on the computer screen. He’s not seeing anything but he feels how imposing All for One is, how overwhelming he is.

“I... I think I should sit down.”

Midoriya almost collapses on the couch, not even waiting All for One’s answer. The world’s spinning slowly and he blinks again to clear the haze.

“I wasn’t tempting you, Judge. What I’m saying about giving you a Quirk is the truth. You proved your loyalty, so the least I can do is repay you in any way possible.”

“Please stop talking.” Midoriya startles at his insolence, noticing how Tomura’s about to tear him to pieces. “My apologies, I shouldn’t act like this when you show me kindness."

“It’s quite normal to feel emotions. I personally think that if channelled correctly they can act as a catalyst for awakening or strengthening your power. I’m wondering about yours.”

“You must’ve realised I don’t have any kind of power. I’m a waste of time.”

“You’re not a waste of time. Never say that again.”

Midoriya’s taken aback by the gentleness in his tone. Had All for One been present, he pictures him approaching silently like a predator cornering his prey.

“Besides, you do have some powers. I feel strong emotions burning deep through your soul. You don’t have a Quirk but you have potential. I sense something extraordinary about you.”

Midoriya wonders if the villain truly believes his own words or if it’s a joke all along. “Surely you must be mistaken... There’s nothing special about me.”

“We both know it’s a lie. Didn’t you orchestrate three murders?”

Midoriya has to agree with him. He’s Quirkless yet rallied two villains to work for him. He should be proud of his accomplishments yet he feels like something’s lacking. He may have killed Tozawa but what about Liliana Schmidt, what about Natsuhiko Arata? Collateral damage, his mind whispers, but did he ruin those lives by avenging dead ones? Should he focus on saving the living or avenging the dead?

“I know how you feel,” All for One tells him, his honeyed words bringing him back to reality. “Such power is dangerous.”

“I don’t need more power,” Midoriya declares although he’s torn. If he has a Quirk, he knows he won’t be able to back down but why is he even considering backing down? “I’m fine how I am.”

“Who is it?”

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“There must be a person who sparked your thirst for justice?”

The only name that comes to his mind is All Might, but All Might is a noble Hero whom he respects, whom the Judge will never select. Yet there was no Hero who prompted him to be the Judge. He can’t think of anyone but himself.

“Who is it that sparked your desire?” Midoriya counters.

“No one in particular, but I admit I don’t deal well with anyone who acts against peace and justice.”

“And what are you willing to give for peace and justice?”

“No one gives something to gain something; he sacrifices it. I would sacrifice myself for both.”

But where are you? Don’t tell me this society’s justice system isn’t flawed. “Would you... act against peace and justice to gain them once and for all?” Midoriya inquires, though already knowing the answer.

“If ultimate peace and justice is the result, then yes.”

“I dreamed of having a Quirk when I was younger but today my dream’s changed,” he whispers. His conscience’s still debating if it’s a good decision to confess this to a person he doesn’t truly know. “I’m not at peace myself and I’ll surely never be but… that’s who I am. I want to be a Hero but at first the Judge, this person I’ve created, exists to to redefine what it means to be a Hero.”

“But are you powerful enough to do so?”

Midoriya breathes out, knowing that this was a trapped question. By admitting his weaknesses and destroying his foundations, All for One might seek to replace them with his own. His words are precise double-edged swords and his sentences, carefully crafted.

“I’m going to get stronger with my own abilities.”

“Two is stronger than one. Let me help you, Midoriya, to accomplish your dream. I’m ready to entrust you with a Quirk because I believe in your strength, in your passion, in your dream.”

“Thank you, All for One.” He bows his head in respect and he almost feel a man’s hands settling down on his shoulders with the grip of a father with his son.

“Don’t bow your head, Judge. We’re equals.”

“But I’m rejecting your offer.”

Midoriya ignores Tomura’s derisive snort, rather focusing on steadying his breathing. It’s unsettling not to see the villain’s face and knowing that his own, however, is being examined. Is this how it feels when a criminal is being interrogated, knowing that two inspectors stand on the other side of the one-way mirror?

“If it’s your choice then I won’t insist.”

Midoriya nods, his heart knotted. He’s the one who said that it’s the wielder who brings out the best of his Quirk. Quirks are amazing but they aren’t what a person is about. He of all people knows that one shouldn’t be judged on the greatness of one’s Quirk.

He’s enough.

And just like that, he hears Todoroki’s voice whispering in his ears, That’s a good answer.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Targeted

“You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

The week’s nearing its end, and the Judge has to select his candidates but there are so many of them that he’s having trouble selecting them. The crimes are numerous, ranging from cowardice to deliberate action. He doesn’t know what sickens him more between the two of them. While scrolling down the list, he wonders if there’s a Hero beside All Might that is worthy of being a hero. Vaguely, his mind conjures a man his age with two-toned hair and eyes of different colours.

Todoroki Shouto has committed no crimes, not that he’s aware of, therefore he isn’t listed. He’s a blank page with no history.

He didn’t act like a father.

Midoriya moves his cursor and with a few clicks a new page is created. It’s a big catch. It’s a gamble. He’s not sure either Dabi or Toga, or even the both of them fighting like two oiled cogs, are capable of defeating him. If he selects Endeavor, then he has to find a stronger agent to confront the Hero but does one even exist? There’s a reason why Endeavor is the Number Two Hero.

Midoriya doesn’t have to search for information on the Hero. Beside his All Might figurines, he did own one of the Flame Hero. He didn’t worship it as much as the Number One but Endeavor had his respect for becoming what Midoriya couldn’t be.

He was working on assumption since Yaoyorozu didn’t explicitly told him what Endeavor did or didn’t do, but Midoriya trusts his intuition. The relationship between the two Heroes has never been the best and it’s never been a secret. But people never dig deeper, never ask the good questions. They don’t question why the gap between the two Todoroki is widening. But Midoriya is different. The Judge is different. They see and they listen and they always remember.

Midoriya’s phone buzzes against the table, breaking his concentration. He glances at it and frowns at the message. It’s certainly Tomura’s style to call him at such a late hour, but the sender is Tsukauchi Naomasa, convoking him for an impromptu reunion taking place in a most odd location: Sunshine Aquarium in Ikebukuro. The message is curt and imperious, specifying that he mustn’t tell anyone of this meeting. Why would they go at a facility that closes at eight o’clock around midnight?

It feels as shady as when the League of Villains contacts him.

Curiosity piqued although remaining wary, Midoriya hops off his chair and gets out of his room. He’s surprised to see his mother awake and watching some popular drama in front of their kotatsu. Midoriya feel waves of warmth drifting his way as he approaches her. He realises she’s dozing, one hand clutching the telly remote while the other supports her chin, her arm propped on the kotatsu.

He closes the television, plunging the apartment in silence. Grabbing a sticky note, Midoriya puts it on the table and scrawls that he’s out but that he’ll come back soon. He hopes it’s the truth. He has to select his candidates, after all.

He’s never been to Sunshine Aquarium before and if he had the choice, he wouldn’t go there at night. Instead of meeting a security guard and a locked door, he has no trouble entering the building. It’s not as dark as he thought it would be, for the direct elevator linking the first floor to the aquarium is illuminated like a beacon. The ride to the rooftop is silent and Midoriya keeps checking his phone, somehow hoping to receive a message from Tsukauchi saying it was a prank.

The elevator doors open with a ding, revealing a waterfall screen. Stepping out, Midoriya inspects his surroundings. He’s standing alone near the ticket counter and except for the sound of water rushing down, it’s eerily quiet. He ambles to the welcome centre before faltering. The message didn’t specify where he has to go. According to the plan, there are two floors plus an open area with a café. He decides to head to the café since it’s the most suitable meeting place there is.

He’s never been to Sunshine Aquarium before but he’s definitely returning. An elevated system of rings filled with water shows sea lions and penguins swimming. They’re evidently in separate systems, or else the water would be coloured red in no time. The moonlight going through the rings casts ethereal shadows on the ground and they dance following the water’s flow. The entire rooftop seems to shimmer in a silver glow.

As beautiful as it is, some places aren’t meant to be empty and this is one of them.

“Midoriya?”

Clouds obscure the sky, swallowing the moon and dimming its light, but Midoriya instantly recognises the voice calling him.

“Todoroki-kun? What are you doing here?”

“I received a message from Detective Tsukauchi.” Todoroki’s phone lights up the darkness, making Midoriya squint. “I assume you’re here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I am but I didn’t see Tsukauchi-san yet.”

“Neither did I.”

The clouds are swept away, the light bathing the rooftop. Todoroki’s standing a few feet away, a frown on his face. Midoriya checks his own phone but there’s no new message notification. Is this one of the detective’s strategies to make them grow closer? It’s futile since none of them trust the other enough.

“Have you seen anyone else?” Todoroki asks him.

Midoriya shakes his head, a frown of his own starting to appear. “No. I think we’re the only ones.”

“The Judge first appeared in late September.”

Both Midoriya and Todoroki’s eyes dart on the entrance of the outdoor area. A silhouette’s shrouded in darkness, observing them from afar, but there’s no doubt that the voice belongs to Tsukauchi. He removes his hat, indeed revealing his gentle albeit worn features.

“On September twenty-ninth, to be precise. What date are we today?” He inquires.

“October twenty-third,” Todoroki replies without hesitation. “Soon October twenty-fourth.”

“And how many victims has he claimed?”

The question’s directed to Midoriya, this time, and he has trouble answering with Tsukauchi’s eyes locked on him. “Three.”

“Ten. Lesson number two: a victim is a person who suffered from another. It’s true that the Judge murdered three Pro Heroes but he also hurt Shimomura’s girlfriend and his parents, Yamazaki’s sister, killed Lilian Schmidt and destroyed Natsuhiko’s life.”

Midoriya experiences a pang in his chest that has nothing to do with his healing wound.

“Lesson number two?” Todoroki repeats. “What’s lesson number one?”

“Lesson number one: everyone lies.”

Midoriya’s too shocked to react, the detective still examining him.

“Tsukauchi, why did you ask for the two of us to come here?”

Tsukauchi’s focus finally shifts and Midoriya has to stifle a sigh of relief. He’s never been more thankful for Todoroki’s presence.

“The Judge kills Pro Heroes he considers guilty. Except for their profession, they didn’t seem to be related in another way. However, I’ve discovered they are connected. Midoriya-kun, do you remember the website you first showed me?”

He straightens at his name, stuttering, “T-The website, sir?”

“Yes. You showed me a website. Shimomura Kai was guilty of failing his duty to rescue. Do you remember, Midoriya-kun?”

He nods, clenching his hands so they stop shaking. “Yes sir, I remember. What of it?”

“I dismissed its relevance when I first heard it but upon thinking about it, I decided it could be useful. I decided to copy the website’s data on a USB key, one of my old detective habits, and what a surprise it was when I showed up at the office next morning to find it deleted.”

“The page was deleted?”

“Not just the page. The USB key was empty and the original website, entirely deleted. Do you understand what it means?”

Midoriya’s breath hitches as he gasps, “Someone’s working with the Judge.”

“Or worse,” Todoroki mutters, “someone is the Judge.”

Impossible. Midoriya staggers backwards, catching himself on one of the café’s chairs. What happened that he didn’t notice? If Tsukauchi had full access to the website’s data, he could’ve seen the Judge’s potential candidates. While it may be troublesome during the execution, it wouldn’t jeopardise his position within the Police Force.

Is this a trap? His heart’s thundering so loud he fears his bones will shatter. Even with his hands fisted, he can’t control their shaking and he also has no say over the chills rolling down his back.

“The reason why you two are present tonight is because you weren’t there when I decided to copy the data. Midoriya, you were already home and Todoroki, you weren’t on the team yet. Everyone else, however, saw it.”

Midoriya’s head snaps up, eyes wide. Does it mean he’s cleared of doubts, or is Tsukauchi toying with him to evaluate his reaction?

“Why did you wait before telling us?” He whispers.

“I thought I could find the traitor by myself. Aside from Tamakawa, the men who were assigned to me were recommendations from Chief Tsuragamae so I could be objective without any difficulty. But… I was a fool to think so and because of my arrogance, the Judge made three more victims.”

“There are three investigators aside from the three of us and Tamakawa,” Todoroki points out. “Yoshida, Katsuo and Subaru.”

“We were more when we first started. Some members abandoned because the task was deemed too much. I’ve investigated them as well and found nothing.”

Todoroki rubs his chin, asking, “And what is your instinct telling you?”

The detective sighs, “That I’m not searching at the right place even if the signs all point in this direction. I fear I’ve met a dead end.”

“So what do we do now?”

Tsukauchi doesn’t answer, rather sitting down beside Midoriya and beckoning Todoroki over. Once the Pro Hero is seated, the three of them mull over, silent, as the penguins and sea lions go back and forth their exhibits and the rings.

“Midoriya-kun, you’ve been silent.”

He avoids Tsukauchi’s eyes, murmuring, “I’m worried, that’s all.”

“I know. So am I. We have to catch him before he makes another victim. The leads we have are thin but I’m convinced this website is the key to find who the Judge targets.”

“Pro Heroes who failed to rescue civilians like Shimomura, who ran away from a scene like Yamazaki or who were involved with illegal business like Tozawa,” Todoroki deduces. “They were all unbecoming of a Pro Hero.”

“We’re not facing a bloodthirsty killer but the worst kind of them.”

Midoriya doesn’t like his foreboding tone. “Tsukauchi-san, what do you mean?”

“We’re facing someone who believes that his murders are righteous. He’ll be relentless like a bloodthirsty killer, but he’s not going to get bored or slip up intentionally to toy with the Police Force. He’s going to act rationally and efficiently with firm conviction that he’s doing good.”

He’s not going to, Midoriya thinks. He already is.

“What if we trick him?” Todoroki offers.

“Trick him?” Tsukauchi echoes, thoughtful.

“We can pull his strings now that we know his motive. We can fake a scandal that will be so shocking he won’t be able to look away. Lets’ be creative: failure to save civilians, ignoring calls from his Hero Office, weapon trafficking. When the Judge will move that’s when you will strike.”

The detective shakes his head even before Todoroki’s finished. “As tempting as it is, I refuse to endanger a Pro Hero’s life.”

“I knew what I got myself into when I joined your team and if I suggested this stratagem, then it means I’m volunteering. Let me be the bait.”

“But you’re innocent,” Midoriya protests. “It’s not only the Judge who will focus on you but the medias. They’ll destroy your reputation.”

Todoroki shrugs, not even meeting his eyes. “It’s for a good cause.”

“If the Judge kills you—”

“Then he’ll kill me but in the end you’ll catch him, won’t you?”

Midoriya can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What are you saying?” He hisses. “Don’t act like your life’s worth nothing.”

“You know nothing about my life.”

“Maybe but that’s not a reason to throw it away,” he shouts, one fist slamming on the table.

“Boys.”

Midoriya seethes and pulls back, forcing himself to stay seated and not to jump at Todoroki to grab him by the collar. Todoroki looks away but there’s no trace of regret or reflection on his face. Tsukauchi sighs, one hand brushing through his hair.

“Todoroki, I’m afraid Midoriya-kun’s right. We’ll know you’re innocent but the Judge and the medias won’t know it. I refuse to drag your name in the mud for this criminal.”

“We can’t achieve anything without taking risks. If we don’t do something — anything — soon, then with our current situation we won’t be able to prevent a fourth murder.”

“Let me think…”

“We don’t have time to think,” Todoroki insists, standing up. “We have to act before he does. Midoriya.” The main concerned glares at him, still bitter. “Any ideas?”

“I’m not an instruction manual,” he snaps back as he rises as well, heading towards the exit. “You figure it out.”

“Midoriya-kun, wait!” Tsukauchi exclaims but he pointedly ignores him.

He gets into the elevator and punches the first floor button, cursing as pain blooms on his knuckles. The doors close noiselessly, sealing him off the world. The tension in his shoulders eases as he breathes out, leaning against the wall. He didn’t act like himself back then. Tsukauchi will definitely question him the next time they’ll be alone and Todoroki...

What a fool. Does he have to be so infuriating? Doesn’t he understand that he’s worth something, no matter how shitty his life may have been? Talk about shitty, yes, because he was born with a wonderful Quirk and accepted in one of the most prestigious Hero programs only to congratulate with near top marks and possessing a Hero Office at such a young age.

A wheezing sound fills the elevator, the lights flickering above him. Midoriya yelps as the metallic cage begins jolting, his hands searching for nonexistent handles. He hears ominous cracking noises from above him and a second later, the main cables snap, the elevator plunging down. Midoriya screams as he feels himself flying, hitting the ceiling as unmerciful gravity sends him towards the ground. The fall must’ve lasted a few seconds before meeting the first floor. He collides against the floor, wincing as the impact resounds in his head.

Everything is still. He gathers his senses, flexing his fingers tentatively. The lights have dimmed but he can discern the closed elevator doors in front of him. He props himself on his elbows slowly but the world still lurches. Groaning, he lets his head hang low, shutting his eyes.

A minor concussion. No broken bones.

He rises on shaky legs, using the walls as support. There’s not even a dent on the doors or a fissure so he can pry them open, not that he has enough strength to do so to begin with. Stumbling to them, he bangs on the doors. It’s pointless, really. As far as he knows, Tsukauchi and Todoroki are the only ones in the entire building and when they’ll leave, they’ll realise the elevator doesn’t function. He simply has to send the detective a message.

He’s taking out his phone when a hole starts taking shape in the middle of the doors. The dust gives away his saviour’s identity, for there’s no one else capable of decaying metal.

“Tomura?” As glad as he is to be freed, he’s also nervous. “Tomura, Tsukauchi-san and Pro Hero Shouto are in this building. We have to leave before we get caught. Where’s Kurogiri?” 

The villain doesn’t answer, his hand still splayed in front of him. Midoriya scowls at his silence but doesn’t waste time walking out of the elevator. The other villain or his warp gate are nowhere to be seen. They shine by their absence since they always seem to linger near the League’s leader… or rather the leader designated by All for One in his stead.

“Tomura, we should go.”

“Yes, you should go.”

Midoriya takes a step back when he catches Tomura’s face. He’s grinning, red eyes gleaming with malevolence. He’s practically oozing killing intent but it must be a mistake…

He’s been asking himself the question for a while now: Isn’t Tomura my ally?

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“You have to go,” he tells him.

Midoriya catches a glimpse of Tomura’s hand closing in and he ducks, distancing himself from the villain. As long as he stays out of range, he might have a chance to— He startles when Tomura sprints towards him, so fast he barely has time to dodge. He tries to deliver a kick with his knee in the villain’s stomach but Tomura catches it. Midoriya blanches and squirms to get away but Tomura’s fingers grip his knee firmly, making the fabric of his pants crumbles to bits.

“I knew you were nothing but trouble when we first me, kozo.”

Midoriya hisses as his skin fissures and peels away but he keeps on watching Tomura. “I thought we were starting to understand each other.”

“Only one person will succeed to Sensei and it’s going to be me.”

“I never thought about stealing your place, I swear.”

He swings one fist to punch his face but Tomura grabs it in midair effortlessly. Only four of his fingers touch his skin but Midoriya doesn’t know if it’s deliberate or not.

“It doesn’t matter if you did or not.” The fifth finger connects with his skin, his Quirk immediately activating. “I can’t risk it.”

Midoriya clenches his teeth and twists his body in the air to free himself from Tomura’s grip but he’s unyielding. The two of them tumble down, Midoriya struggling to punch him while Tomura has abandoned his fist to focus on holding his knee. His skin’s searing now, or rather his muscles since the skin’s gone. He witnessed the danger of Tomura’s Quirk countless times but he’s never experienced its devastating effects before.

Abruptly the pain diminishes. It doesn’t cease entirely but Midoriya feels like he can finally breathe, as if he’s been submerged under water this whole time. His breathing coming out in pants, he looks up to see Tomura staggering backwards, holding his shoulder.

“Todoroki!” Tsukauchi yells from behind Midoriya and as if on cue, spikes of ice hurtle towards the villain at such speed that Midoriya has trouble seeing them. “Midoriya-kun, are you alright?”

Tsukauchi kneels next to him, taking in his ruined knee. Midoriya stares down as well, noticing that Tomura’s Decay had begun to eat his muscles but Tsukauchi had intervened before it could disintegrate them.

“Put your arm around my neck, I’ll get you out of here.”

“But Todoroki—”

“Todoroki can handle this.”

And he was. Todoroki was using his ice Quirk to keep Tomura away but still could be on the offensive by flinging spikes. They’re like dancers twirling on their own axis and seeking to topple the other without leaving their spot. Midoriya can’t tear his eyes away from the fight, glancing over his shoulder as Tsukauchi leads him away.

“Tsukauchi-san,” he murmurs once they’re out of the building. “Please go help Todoroki-kun.”

“There’s no need to.” Both of them turn around to see Todoroki standing on the threshold, scowling. “His chauffeur came to pick him up before I could finish him off.”

“It’s the second time he attacks us,” Tsukauchi notes. “I can believe that he’s linked to the Judge but how did he know we were having a meeting? I only told you two.”

“There are two options,” Midoriya declares. “Either the Judge’s tracking one of us and sent Tomura or it’s a coincidence.”

“What do you think is most plausible?” Todoroki asks, addressing himself to the detective.

“It’s been an eventful night and I think we should all head home. We can think about Todoroki’s plan and Tomura Shigaraki’s involvement with the Judge tomorrow.”

After calling for a taxi for Midoriya, Tsukauchi hands him a few bills, for which Midoriya’s grateful because in his hurry to reach Sunshine Aquarium he didn’t even grab any IDs or money. He’s hesitant to leave his two protégés alone, though, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe, Tsukauchi,” Todoroki intervenes, already swapping places with the detective as Midoriya’s support. “He has nothing to fear with me.”

“Thank you, boys,” Tsukauchi tells them but Midoriya has no idea why they’re being thanked. “I’ll see you tomorrow at one.”

“One?” Midoriya repeats.

“I made you work late, so make sure you get rest.”

On these parting words, Tsukauchi fades away in the darkness, his hat back on his head and hiding his features. The two younger men sit down on a nearby bench, Todoroki helping Midoriya not to hurt his knee furthermore, as they wait for the taxi. The silence, however, is broken fast.

“You forgot an option back then. One of us may be the Judge,” Todoroki whispers, and even if his tone isn’t accusatory, Midoriya knows he’s being targeted.

“It’s an option,” he admits, grimacing inwardly.

He stares heavenward at the moon partially hidden by clouds breezing by. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves and carrying some of them far from the trees. One of them falls on Midoriya’s lap and he picks up. He feels compelled to crumple it.

“Midoriya, are you the Judge?”

He’s been waiting for this question for a while now. Of course, it had to be Todoroki asking him. It could’ve been worse, like Tsukauchi and his damn Quirk, but confronting Todoroki seemed worse. Midoriya’s never been as confident as when he fools his colleagues and his superior with Todoroki. The latter belongs to another realm, one that Midoriya admires, and for now Todoroki has been nothing but honourable as a Pro Hero despite his cold demeanour. He isn’t All Might but somehow he inspires equivalent respect.

Midoriya throws his head back and laughs. It’s hearty, originating deep from his ribcage, and he can’t remember the last time he laughed this much. It’s the stress crashing down, for there’s nothing funny in this situation. Had he been less tired, he would’ve cried. Is this it? The end of his three-week long career as murderer and his four-year long career as a pathetic excuse of a ‘police officer’?

Todoroki waits for him to calm down before repeating his question. “Midoriya, I’m serious. Are you the Judge?”

Sobering down, he wipes the corner of his eyes. “I’m not.” The Hero’s eyes narrow and Midoriya scoffs, “Why are you asking if you don’t believe me?”

“I’m asking you because I wanted to hear the truth but I believe you didn’t.”

“Don’t act like Tsukauchi-san, Todoroki-kun. It doesn’t fit you.”

“The Judge doesn’t fit you either.”

“I said I wasn’t the Judge,” Midoriya insists.

“The taxi’s arrived.”

A black car’s indeed heading their way and stops in front of them. Todoroki helps Midoriya to get inside before shutting the door, remaining outside. Midoriya grabs his arm before he can leave.

“You’re not coming?”

“No, I’ll walk.”

Or perhaps he doesn’t trust Midoriya not to kill him during the cab ride. It’s a ridiculous thought. Not only it would be messy but he wouldn’t be subtle at all. Midoriya’s about to let him go when he notices frost on Todoroki’s forearm. The Hero jerks his arm away, glowering.

“Why don’t you melt it? Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you use your fire.”

“You should get going. It’s almost one in the morning.”

“But seriously, melt it. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Midoriya shrugs, “Well, stay frostbitten, like I care. I think it’s a little pretentious to refuse something you’re born with. Some would die to have such a power and you just reject it.”

Todoroki ground his teeth as he growls, “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe but I know what it is to be born with nothing. When I see people like you refusing their Quirk I wonder why you got one if you don’t plan using it. You should just be Quirkless and offer your power to people who are ready to use it.”

The cab honks, the driver irritated as he asks them if they’re going to spend the night talking. Midoriya glares at Todoroki. Oh, how unfair it is and what he would do to have such an amazing Quirk like him. 

“It’s people like you the Judge targets.”

Before Todoroki could answer, the taxi’s driving away, leaving him standing alone in front of the building. Midoriya closes the window, folding his arms. Tsukauchi advised them to think about what happened in the morning but it’s a half past twelve so technically it already is morning.

Midoriya’s not sure he understands everything that happened but he has a bad feeling.
 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE

Trapped

 “No matter how bad things are, you can always make things worse.”
― Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

Dammit.

Midoriya watches the taxi drive away, his good leg wobbly as it supports his entire weight. He had made a makeshift bandage with his scarf, wrapping it crudely against his knee, but it was useless. Sighing, he sits down on the sidewalk, burying his head in his hands. With the adrenaline crashing down, his knee was starting to hurt.

Dammit.

He’s threading his way on thin, thin ice. Tsukauchi doesn’t suspect him at all, at least he’s certain of that but what about the others? Todoroki exposed his doubts and will certainly never trust him because of the weak answer Midoriya gave him. Tomura tried to kill him since he feels threatened by how All for One favours the Judge. Does it mean his alliance with the League of Villains, on which he relied on, is now broken?

Dammit.

“Izuku!” Midoriya turns around to see his mother running towards him in a dressing gown, her face flushed in the cold. “Izuku, where have you been? I woke up and found the house empty, how do you think I felt? I was worried about you. I spent the next hour watching outside the window and waiting for you to come back. Oh, Izuku, what if something happened to you and I wasn’t there?”

“Okaasan,” he whispers, relaxing as she embraces him. “Actually... something happened.”

He gestures towards his knee, lowering his head in shame. She doesn’t pull away, rather tightens her hug and kiss his forehead.

“That’s your second injury in two weeks. You have to take care of yourself, Izuku, you have to be careful. But for tonight it’s alright because I’m here.”

He yearned to hear those last words when he was younger, expecting All Might to come and save the day since it’s his signature sentence. Tonight, it isn’t All Might saying it but his mother, but it sparks the same overwhelming wave of relief. He thought he was alone, betraying Tsukauchi, suspected by Todoroki and abandoned by Tomura, but his mother was here for him.

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya hiccups. He’s powerless as the first tears gather in his eyes and begin streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

She rubs his back as she holds him. “Hush, hush. I’m going to call an ambulance, alright?”

“Okaasan?” He sniffles, his voice hoarse.

“I’m not a very good nurse, Izuku. They’ll take care of you there.”

“But Tsukauchi-san said—”

Upon hearing his name, her expression turns sours and and grumbles, “I’ll have to speak with that Tsukauchi-san. He can’t send me back my child hurt like this.”

Midoriya’s spent enough time around Tsukauchi to know how the detective thinks. Their meeting was supposed to be a secret but Tomura stumbled upon it and attacked Midoriya, which ended in a fight against Todoroki. Convinced that the Judge’s hiding among the team, Tsukauchi wants to pressure him by showing up the next day, unscratched by the attack possibly sponsored by the Judge. It’s a technique aiming to reduce one’s confidence. It could’ve worked, if the Judge hadn’t been Midoriya, if Tomura hadn’t acted on his own volition and if his mother hadn’t called an ambulance that will keep at least an entire day at the hospital.

“Okaasan, will you... come with me at the hospital?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’ll come with you. I’m not letting you go that easily.” He chuckles despite himself while she wipes his eyes, her fingers warming his cold face. “I’ll take care of things now. Just rest.”

He nods and nestles his head in the crook of her neck, closing his eyes as an ambulance’s sirens echo in the night.

Midoriya would lie to himself if he says he doesn’t find it satisfying to hear his mother berate Tsukauchi on the phone just across his room.

“You listen to me, Mister Detective,” she growls like a lioness. “I encouraged my son to become a police man despite knowing the risks of him getting hurt because I believed people like you, his superiors, would make sure to protect him or at least tend to him if he ever got injured. Yesterday Izuku arrived— Don’t you interrupt me when I’m talking!”

Midoriya crosses his arms behind his head and sinks back in his bed, losing his fight against the smile curling his lips. The pain was gone now that the nurse had injected him morphine, and his knee was cleanly bandaged. It would be treated as soon as a doctor with a powerful Healing Quirk would be available, which should be in the next twenty-four hours according to that same nurse. He doesn’t know if it’s the morphine messing up with his head or the sudden break from both his police officer and Judge’s duties, but he derives a certain pleasure from doing absolutely nothing.

“Yesterday, Izuku arrived home unable to walk by himself. Don’t tell me you expected him to go to the hospital on his own, Mister Detective, because he told me you wanted him to show up at the office in the afternoon and my son doesn’t lie… What are you…? I don’t care if you had someone ready to heal him in your office! Who knows, he could’ve bled out during the night and died. What he needed that you failed to give him was immediate treatment. I can’t believe I trusted you to look after my son. You should be ashamed!”

Midoriya begins humming a tune as his mother’s volume increases the more enraged she becomes. Even the nurses hushing her in the corridors, telling her she distresses some patients, are unable to stop her. She may annoy some patients but Midoriya could listen to her tirade directed at Tsukauchi for hours without growing tired of it.

“No, he didn’t tell me what happened and he doesn’t have to because I already know what happened: my son got hurt. Izuku’s working with you to solve the Judge’s case and his injury surely had something to do with it. I hope you remember that your top priority’s protecting citizens and as far as I know, my son’s still a citizen despite being a police officer. So if you have to choose him between catching that Judge and rescuing him, your choice should be easy.”

Ah, how Midoriya loves his mother despite the contradiction she just unknowingly said.

“Now, Mister Detective, I refuse to let you visit Izuku and give him paperwork. He’s going to rest for the first time in months since he was already overworking before the Judge case happened. I’ll also ask the nurse to block your phone number. If I ever find out you contacted my son… I’ll let you imagine what will happen.”

His mother’s sudden silence indicated she hung up without letting Tsukauchi add a word. When she entered his room and sat next to his hospital bed, her fierceness was replaced with utmost tenderness.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Better now that I know Tsukauchi-san won’t hold it against me for not coming to the office.”

“He can’t hold it against you because he’s the one who failed you. It shocked me since he appeared caring when he came to our house to comfort you. Even I couldn’t talk to you yet he managed to… but now with what I saw of him yesterday, he probably thought that comforting you would bring you back to the office faster. Are you sure you want to stay on his team?”

It wasn’t such a bad idea. With what transpired with Tomura, he can’t be sure of his status in the League of Villains anymore. If he has no more support, then being the Judge will be a tenfold difficult. Not having to worry about Tsukauchi breathing down his neck was a pleasant idea.

“I’ll think about it, okaasan,” he settles on telling her.

Her hands cup his face as she kisses his forehead, her nose nuzzling his hair. Midoriya would’ve purred if he could, smiling in contentedness.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own? I can call sick.”

“I’ll be fine. All I can do is wait until the doctor comes.”

His answer isn’t what she wanted to hear because she insists, “I’m sure my boss would understand if I told her my son’s at the hospital. She herself is a mother of three children. All I have to do is to call her. I don’t even have to leave your side.”

“Okaasan,” he chuckles, being the one this time who gives a kiss meant to be reassuring, “you don’t have to worry. I’m safe now.”

Her concerned expression doesn’t relax despite his words. “My job’s to be worried all the time. I can’t help it. You’re my precious son, the person I love the most. If I ever lose you…”

Midoriya’s throat is knotted as he recalls the night before. He could’ve died yesterday. Tomura was toying with him like he always does, the villain always fond of a little chaos before giving the coup de grace, but had Todoroki and Tsukauchi not intervened… Perhaps Midoriya Inko would’ve waited all night for a person who would’ve come home in a hearse.

How could he have forgotten that he can’t be so careless? He’s so accustomed to working alone in complete secrecy that he forgot he’s not. His mother waits for him at home, cooks him meals, asks how his day has been and worries so much about him. Purging Pro Heroes from slugs and scum is important, yes, but his mother’s wellbeing tops it.

As the Judge, he pledges never to get caught. His mother wouldn’t bear it.

“You won’t lose me. I won’t disappear.” Not like my father.

She embraces him, holding him delicately like he would break if she dares tightening her hug. His shoulder is damp when she pulls backs, tears still shining in her eyes. Midoriya hates how his powerlessness against Tomura led her to be so upset. He’s still unable to swallow without it hurting as he fights against tears of his own. Of all the things he inherited from her, crying at the slightest event comes first. Both Midoriyas stare at each other, taking in their pitiful state, and giggle.

“Alright, I’ll be going. If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“I won’t. Have a good day, okaasan.”

She kisses one last time on the cheek before scurrying to the exit.

Suddenly Midoriya finds himself with something he never would’ve dreamed of having: time to think.

There are many topics demanding his attention and among them, the feasibility of continuing his role as Judge. There were many variables that became unscrewed, his original plan falling in pieces. He’s being confronted, challenged, but that’s alright. He never expected his fantasies to become reality this fast and this smoothly. It’s been almost like a fairy tale, with his reluctant fairy godmother being Tomura and his pumpkin cart, Kurogiri. He’s been Cinderella for three weeks but midnight was striking soon. Two clock hands were nearing the truth, ticking closer to his identity: Tsukauchi and Todoroki.

Both men are blunt in their own manners; Tsukauchi’s instincts are blunted while Todoroki’s tongue never ceases to be blunt. Midoriya can handle the detective but the other one… If Midoriya’s the villains’ joker, then Todoroki’s the Police Force’s very one wild card. As much as the Police Force can’t predict the Judge’s move, Midoriya’s always surprised by what Todoroki has to say. As much as he enjoys being a joker, without two decks of cards pitting themselves against each other, he can’t do much. But with the League’s few members slipping out of his grasp…

I need more cards.

He presses the buzzer next to his bed, signalling he was requesting his nurse. He waited for a few seconds before she arrives, a polite smile plastered on her lips.

“Can I make a call?”

“Of course. Your mother, I assume?”

Midoriya nods, “You assume well.”

But the person he has in mind is far from being Midoriya Inko. As soon as she gets out of the room after handing him the phone, he dials the number he memorised for emergencies a while ago for the first time. He’s convinced that no one will answer and since they don’t have a voicemail, leaving a message isn’t an option. He sighs, about to hang up, when he hears a rumbling voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you much.”

“Kurogiri,” Midoriya can’t help but smiling, “I only want two things.”

The villain is quiet for a few seconds, pondering over the implication of helping a now persona non grata. “I can’t guarantee anything.”

“I’d like to know how to contact Toga and Dabi. They’re my agents, after all.” Taking Kurogiri’s silence as a good sign, Midoriya continues, “Also, I’d like to talk to All for One.”

“I can send you the coordinates for Toga and Dabi without any trouble. For All for One, however, I have neither the authorisation nor the access to contact him.”

“That’s alright.” It was wishful thinking to imagine Kurogiri disclosing him anything. “I under—”

“Still, All for One watches over you. He might not hear what you say but he can see.”

Midoriya’s about to thank him when he catches the nurse hovering on the threshold. He blanches, wondering if she heard everything. Uttering a rapid goodbye and apologising inwardly to Kurogiri, Midoriya hangs up and feigns innocence.

“Thank you,” he tells her, handing her back the phone.

“It was my pleasure, Midoriya-san. How are you feeling now?”

He offers his best mellowed smile at his nurse, “Better, but may I ask when a doctor will come see me? As you surely know, I’m working with the Police Force and I have to go back as soon as I can.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for tomorrow.”

“I guess it can’t be helped…”

More time to think about depressing things…

“But I have a visitor for you.” She turns towards the door, smiling, “You can come inside.”

Midoriya blinks, surprised to see he didn’t notice Todoroki waiting. The latter glides towards him, eyes riveted to him yet without seeing him. Midoriya swallows as the nurse lets the two of them alone after reminding him not to exert himself. Todoroki sits on the very edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. His back’s facing him and Midoriya feels the irresistible urge to grab his shoulder and turn him around.

“There’s a question that’s been nagging me,” he murmurs. “Do you hate me?”

The question drifts off in silence. Glancing over his shoulder, Todoroki stares at him for a few seconds before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. His bangs sway from right to left.

The corner of Midoriya’s lips twitch. “Alright. That’s good. I need you.”

“When do you not?” Todoroki’s voice’s devoid of any emotion, robotic. “You can’t do much.”

Perhaps it’s the morphine coursing through his veins but Midoriya isn’t even offended. Instead he chuckles at the jab, shrugging, “Of course I am. Should’ve figured it out a while ago.”

Todoroki sighs, eyes now focusing on the floor. His voice’s but a whisper as he comments, “I wonder what goes through your head sometimes.”

“I can say the same about you.”

“I don’t think you misunderstood me. I don’t wonder what’s going through Midoriya Izuku’s head but through the Judge’s.”

“Still focused on that?” He snorts.

“You didn’t prove me wrong yet.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? As long as you have no proof that I did something wrong, you have to consider me innocent.”

Todoroki closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I want to. That’s why I came here with a proposition.”

Midoriya can’t help but prop himself straighter, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“I’ll stay with you. If you’re not the Judge, then he should strike again.”

“So you want me to be under a twenty-four hour watch?”

Midoriya stares at him, incredulous. Neither of their gaze wavers, and he realises Todoroki might be serious. Even if they wanted to, striking such a deal is bound to be a disaster. Their relationship is already strained and their conversations become catastrophes ninety-nine percent of the time. Although Todoroki’s the one who makes this suggestion, Midoriya would be that he’d be the first one to give up.

Todoroki’s nose wrinkles as he grimaces, “It’s the only solution I found.”

And Midoriya was bound to accept this offer, the both of them know as much, or else he just had to share his suspicion with Tsukauchi. An interrogation led by the Bullshit Detector would uncover whatever secrets he has. Besides, if he’s supposed to have nothing to hide, then he should laugh and accept Todoroki’s proposition.

“Alright. But give me a break when I go to the bathroom, right?”

“Of course. May I have your phone?”

Midoriya stills, his fake smile frozen in place, “What?”

“Your phone,” Todoroki repeats as he extends one hand imperiously. “I have to check if any of your contacts are suspicious, right?”

“Y-Yeah, sure, but I don’t have it with me.” He never would thank his mother enough for confiscating it. “The hospital took away my things, you know.”

“I see.” Todoroki pauses, his lips pursing as he mutters. “I’ll need to clean my apartment if I want a second futon to fit in.”

Midoriya’s eyes widen, his jaw slackening. “What are you—? Are you implying—?”

“I did say twenty-four hour. Since I unfortunately can’t trust your mother not to be a part of your scheme, you’ll have to sleep in my house.”

The very thought of spending the night alongside Todoroki was unconceivable. He already knows he’s not going to get a wink of sleep because he’ll be too tense, expecting the Pro Hero to kill him once he’s unconscious. Besides, with such proximity, it’ll be impossible to slip out of his grasp to devise a plan with his agents.

Midoriya barks with laughter, “She’s not just going to let me go after I got hurt. You should know how mothers are and stuff.”

“I should know,” Todoroki mumbles, a fleeting shadow darkening his face.

“Good luck convincing her,” he bluffs, lounging on his bed.

“That might not be such a bad idea!”

His plan took every turn it shouldn’t take. His mother accepted with overflowing gratitude that a Pro Hero as skilled as Shouto looks after his son. She also perceived him as Midoriya’s first ‘true’ friend after the devastating experience of his childhood friend turned bully. In her eyes, it was the perfect occasion to keep her son safe as well as happy. It’s no secret to her that Midoriya invited Todoroki in their apartment without her presence, and she was always so eager to meet him.

“You must be Todoroki Shouto,” she practically squealed like a fan as she shook his hand with enough enthusiasm to tear his arm away. “I’m glad you’re friends with my son.”

And of course, before Midoriya could deny it, Todoroki stepped in and revealed a side of him Midoriya didn’t know he had. While he was cold and all scowls with his coworkers, he appeared like a godsend angel with his chivalrous attitude and soft smiles.

Midoriya would’ve liked to say it was all fake but he couldn’t be sure. He witnessed this same behaviour when Todoroki was around Yaoyorozu, and perhaps this facade’s Todoroki’s true one behind those frigid walls he barricaded around himself. Nevertheless, Midoriya was powerless as Todoroki proceeded to convince his mother of an extended sleepover.

“I want you to call me every day,” she told Midoriya.

And, of course, before Midoriya could ask for his phone, Todoroki stepped in and claimed it. There could be, after all, evil people who track Midoriya’s phone and we wouldn’t want that, would we? It was a load of bullshit to Midoriya, but Todoroki didn’t meet any resistance as Inko relinquished the phone without any hesitation. His plans were crumbling and Todoroki would be his new caretaker, but his mother merely patted his shoulders with a grin.

“You can call using Todoroki’s phone. I know you’re in good hands. You and Todoroki are always welcomed in my house.”

And so when he finds himself discharged out of the hospital a few days after with strict orders not to exert himself, Todoroki’s the one waiting for him instead of his mother. Apparently, she already brought a whole suitcase of his belongings to his new prison. Midoriya refuses to call it a temporary home, or even Todoroki’s house.

Todoroki rises from his seat as he notices Midoriya heading his way with a small limp, his skin paler than before he’s been admitted and dark bags marring his eyes.

“How are you?” Todoroki asks out of politeness, for he surely knows that Midoriya’s feeling horrid because of the haggard appearance he displays.

“You don’t have to try and make small talk,” Midoriya grumbles.

“You should try sleeping.”

He shoots him a fierce glare. “You should try shutting your mouth.”

Todoroki falters, taken aback, and if he’s being honest with himself, Midoriya is too.

The hospital was disgustingly full of Halloween decorations, the month nearing to an end. Some windows sported stickers of pumpkins and black cats. Ghosts cut out of orange and black cardboard were hanging from the ceiling and a few cheap, plastic skeletons were dangling alongside billboards. Midoriya finds it rather odd, even inappropriate, to have such reminders of death in a hospital. If they wanted to be serious about their decorations, they could’ve just drawn a tombstone with a R.I.P inscription on each patient’s door they thought wouldn’t survive the night.

It’s been a while since he went outside and he missed a cool temperature making him feel alive and a panorama other than various machines showing his vitals. He looks towards the heavens, observing the murky sky darkened by ominous clouds. Gusts of wind sweep the ground, blowing so much that the parked cars in the entrance were shaking, almost swaying. Although the brisk air sets his lungs afire, Midoriya inhales deeply.

“You know the air here is much more polluted.”

Midoriya doesn’t even snap at him, rather taking a larger gulp of air.

“Sometimes I enjoy a little toxic air.”

With his eyes closed, he can’t see Todoroki’s expression but he figures it’s for the better. He now has to control his urges to plot against the man since they’ll be living — chained — to each other. He shouldn’t make it too obvious he wants to frame him.

“Do you feel well enough to take the subway?” Todoroki asks him.

“Of course I feel well enough,” he replies, glancing at the Pro Hero with a smirk. He’s adamant on showing no weakness whatsoever, even if it means worsening the state of his knee. “I’m out of the hospital, am I not?”

Todoroki frowns, holding his gaze, then beckons a cab. Midoriya’s cheeks flare red at the blatant rejection and he glowers at the ground, hands curled into fists. Todoroki signals again for a taxi and Midoriya stifles a yawn, rising to his full height. He always thought they were the same height but now he realises with a strange satisfaction that he’s a tad taller than the Pro Hero.

“I’m not doing this to spite you, Midoriya,” Todoroki declares. “I promised to your mother I’d take care of you.”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You’re not. I consulted your nurse and even if she told me your chest wound was healing fine, she also told me you had a gash in your right arm with a slight infection.” Midoriya’s petrified as Todoroki’s cold eyes land on him. “Care to tell me when you received this particular injury?”

“I…”

He can’t speak. His tongue feels like sandpaper as he struggles to open his mouth. When he does it, he remains silent with his mouth agape like a fish out of the water. Todoroki’s not staring at him anymore, rather glaring the parking lot and clicking his tongue in annoyance as no taxi heeds him.

“According to her, the injury is recent,” he keeps on. “She gave it a little more than a week, perhaps two to a stretch. Do you know what happened almost two weeks ago?”

“It’s a coincidence.”

“The fact that you thought about Tozawa’s murder doesn’t make it seem like a coincidence.”

Midoriya’s feeling breathless, his arm, his chest and his knee aching. “You don’t have any proof.”

“Maybe, but all the hints I gathered are not in your favour.”

“You don’t even know when the Judge will strike, or if he will strike,” Midoriya retorts, brimming with frustration. “What if Tozawa’s the last he decides of killing? You have no way of knowing.”

“I don’t but I know one thing. You’re not getting away, Midoriya.”

Dread seeps through his bones as he realises he might not, indeed, get away this time. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Pressured

“True character is revealed in the choices a human being makes under pressure - the greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation, the truer the choice to the character’s essential nature.”
― Robert McKee, Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting

If Midoriya has one word to describe Todoroki’s apartment, it would be messy. He never would’ve guessed that the man who always looks so formal and efficient in public actually is disorganised at home. Todoroki throws his coat haphazardly on the pile of other clothes submerging a stool in the entrance, kicking his shoes off as if in hurry.

Midoriya removes his own much neatly, arranging them parallel to each other on the rug. Todoroki’s apartment is small, the visit during less than a minute. The bathroom is on the right directly at the entrance and a narrow corridor devoid of any pictures leads to a square room acting as living room, kitchen and bedroom. Cardboard boxes almost pile up to the ceiling and dirty bowls and plates fill up the sink. The single clean spot of the apartment actually is outside: there’s a balcony but instead of having a nice, little comfy set of chair and table the entire space’s taken by a huge cooler.

Midoriya doubts there’s enough space for a second futon. Perhaps he’ll sleep on the roof.

“I’m afraid it’s rather small but I’m sure we can both fit.”

Not only is Todoroki messy but he’s also able to effortlessly lie to himself. Where’s the Pro Hero Midoriya’s got to know? The image he built of Todoroki is being smashed to bits and somehow, he knows it’s only the beginning.

“I welcome you to my house and I do apologise for the mess. I want you to be comfortable and I’ll respect your privacy as much as I can.”

How can I be comfortable? Respect my privacy, my ass.

“I have a few points to facilitate our cohabitation. First, shut the lights when you leave a room and no more than seven minutes in the shower since I’m paying for the bill. Second, I’ll clear a spot in the cooler for you, so you’ll have your space and I’ll have mine. We don’t take each other’s food and we wash our dishes afterwards. Third, I do the laundry on Fridays. If you want to wash something before, you do it yourself. Finally, don’t wake me up.”

The last statement is unexpected but Midoriya nods. If Todoroki’s not a morning person, then he can be a monster to deal as soon as he wakes up. Midoriya’s fine with not intervening.

“Is there anything you wish to discuss with me?”

“I have the rights to make rules?”

Todoroki clears his throat, rectifying, “Suggestions.”

“Well, when I’m in the bathroom please don’t come in.”

“That’s evident. Is that all?” He replies, clicking his tongue.

“I don’t know… I’ll think about it.”

The Pro Hero nods, indicating one of the boxes at the base of the mountain. “Here’s your stuff. I think your mother packed only clothes but I’m not sure. I didn’t browse through it.”

“Thank you,” Midoriya tells him, rolling his eyes.

The box is full to the brim and he recognises one of his shirts peeking through the cardboard. He takes a step back and his legs flex. Todoroki’s hand shoots faster than his eyes can follow, catching his shoulder and straightening him immediately. Midoriya jerks away, glaring at him. He doesn’t say anything, merely taking the box and placing it on the kitchen counter. However, he makes no move to open it, rather picking an uncomfortable-looking metallic chair that was tucked in a corner and unfolding it. With eyes watching him with expectation, he places it in front of the counter.

“What was that?”

Todoroki’s puzzled expression is disarming, similar to a child who is told he did wrong when he’s convinced of the opposite. “I set a chair for you.”

“I got that,” Midoriya cuts in impatiently, “but why did you—?”

“You were about to kneel on the floor. You can’t do that.”

Midoriya feels his cheeks redden. He doesn’t know if it’s because of humiliation caused by his own forgetfulness or that he misjudged Todoroki’s intention. The Pro Hero gestures towards the chair once more and this time, Midoriya complies. He does wince when he bends his knees, stretching his legs as soon as he sits down. He startles when Todoroki kneels beside him, one hand hovering above the injury.

Midoriya shies away instantly, squeaking, “What are you doing?”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Todoroki whispers, holding his gaze, his palm immobile above his knee. Midoriya’s the one who turns away, preferring to stare at his hands gripping the edge of his seat. “You don’t have to tell me. I recognise pain when I see it.”

Midoriya hates to admit it but his knee does throb even when he’s sitting. It’s pathetic, really. It’s been less than an hour that he’s out of the hospital yet he feels pain rippling through his leg, pressuring the injured joint. The doctor’s been adamant that Midoriya takes painkillers if it becomes unbearable but he refuses to do so. Those little pills dull reality as well as his senses and he needs them now more than ever.

Distracted, Midoriya reaches out to scratch his knee only to have Todoroki grab him again, catching his hand this time with his own.

“Will you let me put some ice on your knee?”

He’s too surprised by this sudden willingness to help him to answer. Todoroki takes his silence as an approval and places his outstretched palm on his knee. Midoriya’s breath catches in his throat as he wonders if Todoroki will betray him, freeze him on the spot and deliver him in Tsukauchi’s office wrapped in a bow. A shiver seizes his body as a cold sensation seeps through his clothes and reach his skin. It’s not first time Midoriya thinks about how Todoroki’s Quirk is astonishing, but it’s the first time he realises that it can be used for something else than fighting.

Todoroki’s hand stays on his knee for a few seconds before he removes it, observing Midoriya with impenetrable eyes, “Better?”

“Y-Yes.”

He sounds breathless when he speaks but he shouldn’t be. What Todoroki did is nothing new since it represents a Pro Hero’s duty. They have to tend to injured civilians, and Midoriya’s still a civilian despite being a little… lawless. So why does it feel like a deep connection run between them? Todoroki could’ve tossed him the painkillers instead of taking care of his injury himself.

It’s his guilty conscience. If he arrived earlier, he could’ve stopped Tomura.

It’s plausible, and Midoriya doesn’t understand why he’d be disappointed if that’d be the case.

Todoroki’s pocket vibrates, his cellphone demanding his attention. He pulls away, rising to face the balcony. Midoriya sigh and pokes at the box’s contents. Half of his closet is tucked neatly in the box with a lingering scent of laundry detergent. In his pair of wool socks he discovers one of his All Might figurines. Even if his obsession with the Number One Hero is far outdated, a smile still curls his lips as he contemplates the figurine, his thumb brushing the Pro Hero’s V-shaped blond hair.

Behind him Todoroki’s conversing in a hushed tone as if he doesn’t want to be heard. He keeps on sending glances over his shoulder, and although Midoriya can’t see them he can sense cold eyes drilling a hole in his head.

“I told you I can’t,” Midoriya catches him repeating. “I’m busy.”

He wishes he can listen to what the person answers on the phone, but the volume is so low that all he hears is silence. Putting the All Might figurine aside, he digs deeper in the box. He snorts at the sight of a bentō box storing his toothbrush and other toiletries.

“Call someone else.” Midoriya turns around, giving in to his curiosity. Todoroki’s now turned towards the mountain of boxes, his answer calm and devoid of any stings, but a frown creases his forehead and his right foot’s stomping a steady rhythm on the ground. “I’m looking after a friend.”

Midoriya almost snickers aloud but muffles the noise by plastering a hand against his mouth. He didn’t know that friendship has to be cemented by incarcerating one in the other’s apartment, completely cut off from the world. If this is Todoroki’s idea of friendship, he doesn’t want to know what his concept of enemies entails.

“Yes, it’s him.” Midoriya perks up. The only person who knows him as well as Todoroki is Yaoyorozu. “No, you can’t talk to him. Right now he’s... sleeping.”

This time Midoriya sniggers, cocking an eyebrow, at the same time as Todoroki lets out a strangled noise. The Pro Hero’s cheeks are growing scarlet, eyes darting on the floor.

“It’s not like that…! Yes you’re— No, you’re wrong... I don’t need your advice because he’s—” He stops abruptly as he notices Midoriya watching him. Clearing his throat, he regains his composure but his face retains its crimson. “I failed him twice. I won’t do it again.”

Midoriya can only see one thing that can count as failing: the failure to protect him from harm and, coincidentally, twice from Tomura. He may be Quirkless but he’s no damsel in distress. He chose to be a police man aware of the danger lurking around. He doesn’t mind Death breathing down his neck as long as justice prevails.

“Fine, fine,” Todoroki grumbles and all but shoves the phone in his face. “Tell her we’re busy.”

Midoriya presses the device against his ear, grinning, “We’re so not busy so what can I do for you?”

Yaoyorozu’s laughter is so loud that Midoriya winces, eyes screwed shut. When he opens them, Todoroki’s glaring at him, shaking his head.

“We need him in Chuo, near Tsukiji Fish Market. We’re having trouble containing an attack so we need every free Pro Heroes when the police officers evacuate the people.”

“Who’s attacking?”

“We don’t know but there are six individuals who look nothing like humans.”

Midoriya scowls, looking at Todoroki, “We have to go.”

“You can’t,” he retorts. “You’re in no condition to move, certainly not in a fight zone.”

“But people need you. You have to go.”

“And leave you alone?”

Midoriya slams the phone one the counter and stands on his feet, not even twitching when pain sears through his knee. Todoroki doesn’t step back, even when Midoriya grabs him by the collar.

“Are you kidding me? Who cares if I’m the Judge when people are injured right now? You’re a Pro Hero so you have to go and save them.”

Todoroki gently removes Midoriya’s hands curled around his shirt but instead of letting them go, he rather tightens his grip around them.

“You should sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Midoriya hisses.

Todoroki drops his hands, gripping the phone. “Yaoyorozu, are you still there? Send us Iida.”

Midoriya remembers stumbling across this last name in the students who graduated with Todoroki. It also rings a bell in his large database of Heroes he memorised, Iida Tensei also known as Pro Hero Ingenium.

Todoroki hangs up, crouching down in front of a lone box and taking out a blue bundle. He unfurls it, shaking it a little as if hoping the wrinkles would smooth themselves. He ends up giving up, tossing the clothes on one shoulder, and heads to the bathroom under Midoriya’s gaping mouth.

“Is that…? Are we…?”

“Yes. He should be here in seven minutes.”

“So I’m coming as well?”

“I hate,” Todoroki mumbles as he gets inside the bathroom, “repeating myself. Take a painkiller, you’ll need it.”

Midoriya can’t help but whooping, Todoroki rolling his eyes and slamming the door.

Iida Tenya, similarly to his older brother, has a Quirk related to speed. While he runs at a frightening speed with Midoriya in his arms as if the latter’s a bride late to her wedding, Todoroki surfs on ice above their head without breaking a sweat. He has no trouble matching Iida’s speed, and Midoriya even has the feeling they’re competing to see who’s going to reach Chuo first.

Midoriya catches a glimpse of ambulances’ sirens and familiar yellow tape meant to keep people away from the scene. Todoroki flies above the secured area, heading straight in the thick of the fray, but Iida comes to an halt. He settles Midoriya down on a stretcher, making sure he shows no signs of discomforts before nodding to himself. The police officer swallows his pride as he’s handled with care, a Hero with a Healing Quirk already trotting his way.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Midoriya. I’m normally against bringing more civilians in a fight but if Todoroki deemed you strong enough to be here, than so do I,” Iida tells him before speeding away, a cloud of dust being the only hint of his presence.

Midoriya wants to latch onto him so he can, too, get closer to the heart of the battle. He might have gotten outside but he’s still too far. The ground trembles from explosions, sounding like ominous thunder in a clear, blue sky. Around him, people flinch at the sudden noises, whimpering.

I don’t belong here.

“Where are you hurt, sir?” The Hero inquires.

“My pride,” he mutters before giving himself a swing off the stretcher. He almost crumbles down as his bad leg takes the brunt of the impact but catches himself on the stretcher, hauling himself straighter.

“Sir, you shouldn’t do this,” the healer warns, hovering around him. “It’s clear you’re hurt.”

“Then heal me, don’t just stand there,” Midoriya snaps, gesturing towards his knee.

The healer gapes at him before shaking his head, mouth closed. With one hand he pinpoints the pain’s source. His hand hovers above his knee similarly to Todoroki earlier that day but nothing happens. Instead, the healer’s shaking his head once more.

“I’m afraid this surpasses my Quirk... The wound is too deep.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Go heal someone else.”

The healer doesn’t have to be told twice as he stiffens, reddening. Just as he’s about to snap back at Midoriya, their attention’s drawn to a dark form hurtling towards them. As soon as it enters the wounded civilians’ perimeter, the shadow slows down, stopping in front of them. Midoriya gasps as he stares at the shadow shaped like a bird and holding gingerly in its claw a young girl who can’t be older than seven years old.

“Take care of her,” the shadow orders in a guttural voice before leaving.

The healer props the girl on the stretcher, Midoriya all but forgotten. It’s fine by him and if you’d ask him, it’s better that way. With the Hero’s attention on someone else, he can slip away. It was easy it was laughable. He thought the current fighting Heroes would’ve had the brilliant idea of sending someone to watch over the wounded, someone competent enough to hold their own against a villain. The civilians are all vulnerable targets who need healing, yes, but also reassuring. Only the presence of a worthy Pro Hero can quash their qualms.

Did no else but him ever learn from All Might?

He soon realised there’s nothing worse than jogging with a leg unwilling to support your weight. Despite the exercises he did before leaving the hospital and a skin-mending Quirk, his muscles are still sore and in a desperate need of a break. Midoriya pushes forward, however, alert as he watches his surroundings. Both the inside and outside market were empty, which is quite a feat. Everyone fled to safety while the Heroes were battling on the other side, near Sumida River.

As he nears the action, various voices yelling warnings to fellow Heroes and threats to the villains reach his ears, filling his entire being with excitement he hasn’t felt for a long time. He limps before leaning down against a building, feeling like a child witnessing things he shouldn’t. The Heroes have forced the enemies to retreat further on Kachidoki Bridge but they didn’t seem to be winning. From what Midoriya could see, their Hero costumes were scratched, showing the bruises blooming on their skin, and their stance, tense albeit drooping in exhaustion. Midoriya’s eyes land on the enemies.

His jaw drops. “What the…?”

They are the most peculiar and ugliest creatures he’s ever seen. Picture a blue agglomeration of disorganised muscles standing on two hind legs with bulging and unblinking eyes as well as beaks instead of mouth. What disturbs him the most, however, is the top of their head where half of their brain is exposed. There are five of them, three human-looking, one with a lizard tail whipping the air and the last, winged and possessing claws that look so sharp they can rip anything off.

Just as Midoriya decides he can’t handle this kind of villains, a pair of bulging eyes settle on him. If the monster had a mouth, Midoriya swears it’d be grinning, showing a rank of shark-like teeth.

He stumbles back, not daring turning away from the creature but it’s lunging at him almost faster than he can blink. The world spins around like a whirligig as it crashes against him, Midoriya wincing as the asphalt scrapes his back. He struggles to get free but its claws curl around his shoulders, trapping him. The monstrosity leans down closer to his face, saliva dripping from its open beak.

“Civilian!” A faraway voice screams, and the next second something’s colliding against the creature and toppling it.

Midoriya groans as the monster’s torn away from, its claws leaving superficial gashes on his skin. Clenching his teeth, he props himself on one elbow, his hand settling on his heart wildly hammering in his chest. His head throbs painfully. He must’ve hit it. As closes his eyes, even the darkness in his sight swirls uncontrollably.

“Midoriya, what are you doing here?”

He’s never seen Todoroki’s face so cold before. The Pro Hero points an accusing forefinger encased in ice in his direction and for a moment, Midoriya’s convinced he’s going to attack him.

“Do you think I wanted to bring you here? I knew it was dangerous, so I left you with healers for your own safety. I trusted you not to do anything stupid.”

Midoriya doesn’t know why he rises to the bait so quickly given the circumstances but his mouth opens on its own. “Perhaps you shouldn’t trust me. Have you thought about it?”

“Shouto! Is he alright?” A female voice shouts, drawing their attention. Yaoyorozu’s jogging up to them, a worried expression painted across her face that morphs in shock as she recognises him. “Midoriya, why are you…? Well, it doesn’t matter. You have to leave immediately. Can you get up?”

Midoriya nods, his legs quivering as Yaoyorozu helps him standing on his feet. Todoroki glares at him one last time before spinning on his heels and throwing himself in the fight.

Midoriya wishes he could do the same.

“What are those… atrocities?” He whispers instead.

“We don’t know but they are strong opponents. We asked for more reinforcements since we failed to beat at least one of them,” Yaoyorozu confesses, obviously dejected.

Midoriya doesn’t answer, eyes riveted to Todoroki’s ice trapping one of his enemies’ leg. There’s no doubt that the Pro Hero can do the same thing to him if given enough incentive.

“But you are holding up, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are. We’re Pro Heroes,” she replies, beaming at him. It would be more credible if her hair wasn’t in a disarray and if she didn’t have a bleeding lip. “Now move, no time to lose.”

The second they step forward one of the creatures makes a beeline for them. He daresay that there’s a predatory gleam in its orbs, as if targeting them on purpose. Yaoyorozu has enough reflexes to sidestep the creature but Midoriya’s feet trip over rubble, sending him down on his rear. A shield emerges from her forearm and she grabs it with by hands, positioning herself between the monster and Midoriya.

“Midoriya, run!”

The monster rams into her shield, her petite frame quivering as the impact resounds through her bones. Midoriya can’t run, not when someone’s putting their life on the line for him. Standing up, he removes one shoe then runs behind the monster. He doesn’t have to distract it by throwing the shoe because its eyes follow him as he moves around, almost rolling back in their orbit. Hitting Yaoyorozu with a forceful backhand, it turns around to face Midoriya.

The latter forces his voice to speak despite his gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

The creature opens its beak but instead of speaking, it screeches. Midoriya covers his ears, grimacing, but it keeps on shrieking until ice covers its face, keeping him frozen. Todoroki is a few meters away, frostbite crusting his right hand that is still outstretched in the monster’s direction.

“You should use your flames.” Midoriya should learn how to keep his mouth shut but seeing Todoroki in this state, he isn’t telling him to spite him. “You can’t keep going much longer.”

He glowers and breathes out, volutes of air swirl out of his mouth. “Just watch me.”

“No, I don’t want to watch. You have to thaw your ice or you’ll lose your limb.”

He’s certain Todoroki understood his point since his eyes widen, but then the Hero’s hand shoots in the air once more, ice materialising from his palm to hit the monster standing behind Midoriya. The ice was flung with enough force to embed themselves in his eyes and on his chest, but the monster doesn’t even wail, merely removing the spikes from its orbs, unfazed. It keeps advancing towards them in a slow pace. Knowing it can reach them in a second but that it chooses to take its times, Midoriya knows it’s toying with them.

He scrambles backwards, soon catching up with Todoroki. “Use your flames, Todoroki.” Answered with silence, he whips his around, yelling, “Use your goddamn flames, Todoroki!”

But Todoroki isn’t listening. He’s bent over, hands on his knees, visibly trying to fend off the consequences of frostbite. Midoriya grabs his hands in his own, bumping their forehead together.

“Get your shit together or we’ll die,” he hisses, pouring all his frustration and despair in his voice. “I don’t know about you but I’m not going to die here and today, hear me?”

Todoroki shakes his head but his eyes are sharp, proving he’s listening. “I hear you. Just run, Midoriya. Don’t care about—”

He punches him. He doesn’t have enough strength to floor him but Todoroki still staggers back. Midoriya’s knuckles are burning but pays them no mind.

“I don’t care about you, idiot. I can’t do shit here because I’m Quirkless but you’re not, so you’ll use your Quirk and burn that chicken to a crisp.”

Todoroki stares at him as if Midoriya asked of him to pole dance. “But these flames—”

“Yeah, yeah, you got them from your father but who cares? Didn’t I tell you that it’s the wielder who uses their Quirk and decide to do whatever they want with them?”

“But this Quirk is my father’s. I’m not—”

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to be Endeavor’s carbon copy if you don’t want to!” Midoriya very much wants to punch him again but calms himself down. “Listen, you’re Todoroki Shouto and you can manipulate fire, so do it. That’s enough reason to blast that thing, right? You’re enough.”

If it doesn’t pull Todoroki out of his angsty teenage stew, then Midoriya will just give the Hero as sacrifice to the beast and run for his life. Todoroki raises his head, eyes flashing in determination.

Midoriya hides his relief by grumbling, “It’s about time. Now go—”

Before he can finish his sentence, an enormous explosion detonates behind them, waves of heat unfurling towards them. Midoriya shields his face with his arms, head turned away, waiting for the creature to strike him before understanding the attack didn’t come from it. Peeking through his arms, he realises they’re shrouded in a curtain of smoke. He can barely see Todoroki beside him, but as the smoke fades he remarks how tense he is.

“The fuck you’re doing, just standing here doing nothing, fucking half and half,” someone bellows, and Midoriya freezes when he notices a silhouette marching towards them cleaving through the veil. “I ain’t got time to save your pathetic ass.”

“So conscientious of you,” Todoroki replies, deadpan, as the figure emerges completely from the smoke, blond hair as spiky as Midoriya remembers and his eyes, still brewing with his constantly enraged look. “Bakugou.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bested

“A fool with a plan can outsmart a genius with no plan.”
― Thomas B. Pickens

How...?

He didn’t see Bakugou for a good seven years, but apart from his attitude he didn’t change much. He’s as robust as ever, and his Hero costume makes him appear bulkier and even more provocative. His almost villain-like mask covering his eyes highlight their fury, but somehow it’s subdued as his gaze roams over Midoriya, as if not quite believing his presence.

...could someone...?

“Ah?” Bakugou snarls at Todoroki, eyes still riveted to Midoriya. “You’re babysitting now?”

“I’m going to escort this civilian to safety,” Todoroki declares, roughly grabbing Midoriya’s arm. “Come, Midoriya, and don’t think of getting away.”

For a foolish moment he believed Bakugou forgot about this Quirkless boy who wanted to be his friend but a hand grips his other forearm, stopping him. “Wait, you really think I’ll let you go...?”

...like him...?

“...Deku?” He cackles, pulling Midoriya so harshly that he tears him away from Todoroki’s grip. Bakugou smiles as if in triumph, exclaiming, “Quirkless Deku, it’s really you.”

...be a Hero?

“I thought you’d jump off a bridge when you realised how useless you fucking are.”

Midoriya tugs at Bakugou’s steel hold on his arm but it doesn’t budge, so he resumes to nodding grimly, mumbling, “You must’ve been disappointed.”

“Well, it’s not like I cared what happened to you, Deku.”

Todoroki’s eyes narrow as he watches their conversation, his gaze shifting on both Bakugou and Midoriya. He opens his mouth to speak when the monster wails. Now that the smoke dissipated, they notice it standing a mere few meters away, already coiling its body and ready to leap on them.

Bakugou doesn’t give it time to reach out for them as he jumps forward, blasting the creature in the face. Midoriya flinches at the explosion, ears ringing and eyes assaulted with memories he’d rather bury deep down in his mind. It’s a sound and a sight he didn’t miss.

“Midoriya.” Even Todoroki’s voice can’t calm him. Old scars on his arms and on his back, are stinging, as if activated now that the source of their pain is so near. “Midoriya, you have to rest.”

“I have to...”

His voice fails him, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He can’t focus on anything but Bakugou, now an angry blur of orange as he fights against the monster. A faint whistling sound escapes his lips and Midoriya clasps a hand over his mouth. He bends over as the churning of his stomach intensifies and all he hears is the blood rushing to his head.

“Midoriya!”

He rationally knows that it’s Todoroki’s hand that brush his shoulder but he slaps it all the same. He remembers a similar hand closing on him, tiny red explosions cracking off like fireworks before fading away and drawing marks across his back, gripping his shirt by the collar and throwing him on the ground like he weighs nothing. He remembers the pain blooming from the back his neck and following his spine, the dull pounding of his head and the cold tears leaking from his eyes. He’s always been such a weakling. The canvas of scars etched across his body proves it.

He urges himself to breathe, to stand up, to appear somewhat dignified despite his misty eyes and his ashen face. As he scrambles to his feet, he notices how quiet it is. The sounds of battle have faded away like a dream, leaving him disoriented. He whirls around and his heart lurches in sync with the motion, frantic eyes searching for Bakugou. There’s no one standing near him except for Todoroki who’s watching him, aware that his help would be denied if he as much makes a move. The Heroes are agglomerated near the bridge, as if to give them some space, or perhaps Todoroki insisted they retreat further since the fight agitates ‘the lost civilian’.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki begins, but Midoriya doesn’t want to contempt or even worse, pity dripping from a voice he’s known to be impassive. He doesn’t need anyone else telling him he’s weak.

“Kac—” He catches himself, eyes wide as his own mind betrays him. He hates Bakugou. He hates Bakugou Katsuki with vicious passion, he tells himself, yet here he goes using the same nickname that always earned him two or three blasts in the face. “Bakugou. What’s he doing here?”

“He’s a Pro Hero. He’s helping,” Todoroki answers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world but it’s not. It’s the most outrageous, the most horrendous thing if someone would ask Midoriya.

“He’s not helping. He’s destroying.”

“Perhaps, but as long as he doesn’t hurt civilians, he’s helping.”

“He hurt me!”

Midoriya slams one hand on his chest with such strength he feels the recoil in his bones. Todoroki meets his gaze without giving away what he thinks, half-turned from him. His eyes measure him, pondering, before settling on the brawl.

“Did he now?”

Midoriya lets out a shaky breath, his hand fisting his shirt as he feels his heart drumming under his fingers. “More than you know.”

The smile Todoroki gives him is mirthless. “Believe me, I know.” His inner turmoil vanishing like a bubble that just burst, he stares at Todoroki who shrugs, “I did my research before inviting you in my house. So did you, I assume.”

“Invited? More like coerced.”

Todoroki sighs, stepping forward. “I thought we were past this.”

“We’re still in the middle of it. Wait, what are you doing?” Todoroki was kneeling in front of him but his back was facing him. It was almost like... “A-Are you expecting me to climb on your back?”

“You’re too exhausted to go on like this. Besides, I don’t want your mother to kill me when she finds out I didn’t exactly treat her son right.”

Midoriya’s tempted to accept. He’s aware of his own limits and he’s nearing them faster than he’d like to admit but his pride ties him to the ground, so he snorts.

“That won’t be necessary, Todoroki-kun. I’m Quirkless, not completely disabled.”

Todoroki starts, eyes widening of a fraction. “This isn’t what I—”

“I’ll go first,” he cuts him, ignoring the stabbing pain in his knee, spreading up in his thigh. “I need a head start, right?”

He doesn’t expect Todoroki to reach for him and the Pro Hero proves him right. He stays behind, watching Midoriya limp away. This stubbornness of his won’t cure his knee; on the contrary, his case will worsen. Todoroki closes his eyes as he musters his resolve to get Midoriya on his back, no matter what, and only had time to step forward before the winged creature dashes above him, claws extended.

“Midoriya!” He warns, his right hand instinctively shooting forward with crystals materialising on his fingertips. “Midoriya, watch—”

The wave of ice he hurled in the creature’s direction hits the creature’s wing before instead of paralysing it as planned, the attack rebounds effortlessly. Todoroki relies once more on his ice Quirk but it refuses to respond to his call, his body staggering as the frostbite roots itself in his legs.

He clenches his teeth, punching his legs as if they would react immediately. He feels his muscles tightening but they’re like a rusty machine unable to function with its rattling engine on the verge of collapsing. The creature’s claws curl around Midoriya’s armpits and take him off the ground under his very eyes. Midoriya trashes instantly and his legs kick in the air. He reminds Todoroki of a fish dragged out of the water, struggling for air.

“Civilian!” Todoroki screams, the familiar Hero code acting like a call for help, but he’s too far from the scuffle, and his voice’s drowned in screeching, lightning bolts and explosions. “Dammit...”

He tears his eyes away from his useless limbs, rather squinting as he looks up to the monster flying away with Midoriya in his grasp.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

He’s supposed to observe Midoriya in his apartment, in control of the variables influencing the latter. With close to no contact with outside and limited information from the radio, Midoriya wouldn’t be able to contact anyone to do his bidding if the Judge he is, and if Todoroki’s gut instincts are right then Midoriya would snap one day or another. But instead he was being taken away and Todoroki can’t move.

Like hell he’s getting away. He’s my prey.

Even during a most dire situation, Midoriya doesn’t ask for his help. He’s still resisting since his entire body squirms and flails around but he’s obviously failing to free himself. He isn’t asking for help and he doesn’t need to. Todoroki’s a Pro Hero. It’s his job to rescue civilians.

Todoroki breathes out, eyeing his left arm already aiming at the creature. There should be no doubt clouding his mind. He should fire, thaw himself out, and attack the beast without showing any mercy. He should take Midoriya back to a healer and make sure he rests properly this time. Should is all but a pretty word that gets no actions done, in the end. Todoroki knows he should do it, but should doesn’t actually compel him to do so.

Listen, you’re Todoroki Shouto and you can manipulate fire, so do it.

Manipulate is a generous word. He’s not even sure he can find the source of his fire after so many attempts to quell it. Besides, he also has no idea if his flames can even reach the creature. With each ticking second, the distance between them grows at an alarming speed, reducing his chances to get a hit, or even a graze. He readjusts his aim but he can’t stop his arm from quivering like a leaf caught in the gale.

That’s enough reason to blast that thing, right?

It should be. It should be.

You’re enough.

It has to be.

A stream of flames gush out of his entire left side, swallowing him in fire. Todoroki feels like a powder keg that’s been sparked. He has little to no control on his Quirk’s fierceness. After being confined for so long, the fire wants to consume everything on his path, perhaps even its own wielder. The recoil from the shot is so intense that Todoroki stumbles, falling on his knees.

The fire hits the target and, unlike the ice so easily reflected, actually damages the creature by burning its wing’s thin membrane. Even far away Todoroki can hear its shriek of pain, losing altitude as smoke spirals around it. With the fire reducing the ice covering his right side to small puddles of water at his feet, he’s regained his motion. He would’ve liked to use his flames to propel himself forward but trusting a power he hasn’t used in ages could kill him. He opts for familiar ice surfing while keeping his body temperature at a healthy level.

The creature may be having trouble flying but it can still endanger Midoriya. A crash from this height would be deadly to anyone without a skin-strengthening Quirk like Kirishima or being completely free from the laws of gravity like Uraraka.

And Todoroki refuses to see Midoriya plunging to his death.

Not on my watch.

 When Midoriya was a child, he dreamed countless times about his Quirk. When each of his friends, though he later learned that no one was his but actually Kacchan’s, all began having their Quirk, Midoriya wasn’t jealous in the slightest. He’d have his later, and although it was rare to receive a Quirk at the old age of five, it wasn’t impossible. When fire burst like petards in Kacchan’s sweaty palms, Midoriya was the first who smiled at the sight and told him how amazing his Quirk was while dreaming of his own, how his absent father’s fire Quirk could match Kacchan’s.

Around him, one by one, people were blessed with a Quirk. It would sometimes create chaos in the class, such as the girl able to accelerate vegetation’s growth and who ended up growing the plants sitting idly on the window sills until their roots popped out of their pot. Midoriya got a scar that day on his chin, barely noticeable since it was hidden by the shade of his mouth, but he didn’t even notice he was bleeding until he was ushered to the infirmary. All he could think of was how this Quirk was interesting, how happy his mother would be if he’d be able to resurrect the dead plant in their living room if he had a similar Quirk.

Around him, everyone got their Quirk. Recess consisted of showing Quirks, building castles in the air using leaves and dead branches, drawing bullseyes on trees and practising their aim, sometimes even fighting with their Quirk activated, which always occurred with a detention to the brawlers. Midoriya watched it all in wonder. His classroom was like a huge laboratory where dangerous chemical reactions could happen all of sudden. The children were learning to tame their powers and by observing them, Midoriya was convinced he was ready for whatever Quirk he would be bestowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The first one who told him was the doctor, his professionalism fading for a few seconds as he stared at Midoriya with compassion. The second was his mother, hugging him firmly from behind, tears streaming down her face. He half expected his classmates to be sorry too but he was wrong.

“Hey? You don’t have a Quirk?”

“Have you heard? Midoriya Izuku from Class B doesn’t have a Quirk.”

“Woah, people like that really exist?”

The whispers weren’t quiet enough not to reach Midoriya. Even if they were, Midoriya was telling himself the very same things.

He was hanging out with Kacchan and his friends when someone he’s never talked to came and apologised to him.

“What’s he talking about?” Kacchan asked when the unknown student was out of earshot. “You two had a fight or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kacchan,” Midoriya chuckled, telling himself his shoulders were shaking from laughter and not from nervousness. “It’s just... Haven’t you heard about my... situation?”

But Kacchan hadn’t been in the mood to guess, his features twisting in a scowl Midoriya’s been accustomed to by now. “Are you gonna spit it out or what?”

“W-Well, I’m...” He glanced to the other boys he knew less, wondering if he should tell them as well. With Kacchan it was different but them... He swallowed the lump in his throat. He doesn’t mind not hanging out with them; it’s Kacchan who’s amazing. “I don’t have a Quirk.”

The blond boy growls, “Yeah, we know that. If you’d have one, you’d tell us.”

“No, I mean... I don’t have a Quirk and I will never have one. I’m Quirkless.”

There, he said it. He closed his eyes, releasing the breath he’s been holding.

“Is that true?”

Kacchan looks downright furious, so much that Midoriya takes a step back. He’s never seen his friend so angry before, not even when his mother refused to buy him the console he wanted for his birthday. Also, Midoriya’s witnessed his rage countless times but it’s never been directed to him. What he earned were glares and snarky comments, yes, but they didn’t possess the contempt shining in Kacchan’s red eyes.

“I can’t believe it,” he spits, and had Midoriya been closer, he would’ve received it in his face. “I spent my time with you, a Quirkless.”

Something sinks within Midoriya at the harsh words but he offers a tentative smile. “K-Kacchan, I’m still the same as before. I’m me and you’re still your friend...”

“Hey? That’s a load of bullshit. It’s simple. If you don’t have a Quirk, then that means you’re nothing, and I’m not wasting my time with someone like you.”

His chest is aching, as if someone had plunged a knife in his heart and kept on twisting it. He didn’t care about the other boys’ snickers since they were never that important to begin with but Kacchan... He was his first friend and while intimidating, Midoriya knew that Kacchan was a good guy. If he lets the other boys tease Midoriya, that’s because stopping them would only create conflict. If he always refuses his help, that’s because he didn’t want to burden Midoriya. If he laughs at Midoriya, that’s because there’s something funny Midoriya didn’t quite catch, and he admits his behaviour can be ridiculous at times.

But this... This was plain rejection, and as he searched for any sign of regret in these crimson orbs Midoriya realised he might have been wrong all along. Perhaps there’s a logical reason to Kacchan’s indifference and mocking attitude and Midoriya had simply refused to consider it until now.

“Now stop following me like a fucking kicked puppy or I’ll blast you to hell.”

Kacchan spun on his heels after that, accepting the boys’ encouraging pats on his back and their approving nods, not sparing a glance at Midoriya. The latter didn’t move until recess is over, and even then he got inside the building at a snail pace.

A chemical reaction had happened. A loose variable had tipped his entire world, and now he was incompatible with any of his classmates. He was the anomaly mothers would warn their kids about if they don’t eat their vegetable or go to sleep at eight.

“You’ll be Quirkless if you don’t do as I say,” they’d threaten.

Midoriya doesn’t understand. He always did everything his mother would ask him and sometimes it didn’t even bother him because he loves his mother too much to make her anything but happy. Yet after striving so hard to be a good son, dreaming so much about becoming Symbol of Peace, that was what he got? A bunch of shattered hopes, tears spilt on notebooks, burns from the one person he called his friend and a mother who blamed herself for what befell him?

What a shitty reward.

Midoriya stares at the sky clear of any clouds and sighs. If he had Quirk, he could soar to join its vastness. If he had a Quirk, he could make its weather bend to his will. If he had a Quirk, he could be so much more.

He tenses as crunching noises grow louder behind him. Kicking the rubble, hands tucked in his pants, posture casual as if it’s nothing but a walk in the park, a person’s walking towards him. After skirting around the creature’s motionless body sprawled a few meters from Midoriya, they stop, they stop only mere feet away from him, licking their parched lips.

Midoriya lets his eyes fall shut.

There was smoke billowing around the place where the beast had crashed, Midoriya still in its claws. It’s in these situations that Todoroki finds himself wishing to have a Quirk that could save people, not only destroy them. His fire would do nothing but scorch Midoriya’s skin and his ice as a cushion would break his back.

Todoroki isn’t sure what he expects to find. He lost sight of the creature when he turned right to avoid colliding into a building, but this slight moment of inattention was enough to make him lose sight of it. He followed the sounds of explosions reminiscent of Bakugou’s, wondering if his colleague was somehow successful where Todoroki was bound to fail, but then again Bakugou’s Quirk wasn’t meant to protect either. Therefore he came to the conclusion that amidst this ocean of smoke he would stumble upon Midoriya’s broken corpse.

The thought makes him queasy. He didn’t know Midoriya a lot and from what he knew of him, he could be the criminal the Police Force spent the last month searching for. However, he has no desire to see Midoriya dead. He has no reason to yet, anyways.

The ground rumbles as another detonation erupts, much closer to Todoroki now. He tenses, whirling around but he’s blinded by the smoke. Shaking his head, he reminds himself that relying on sight is a weakness he overcame. He’s been trained with an opaque mask covering his entire face, pushed into an arena and left fending for himself. He can do this.

He musters his most menacing voice, peering through the smoke. “Who goes there?”

He stiffens, listening to the most subtle of sounds, but he doesn’t have to try hard since the sound coming from his left is all but subtle.

“Oh, it’s you, candy cane fucker.”

Todoroki sighs through his nose. “Bakugou.”

He waits for his fellow Hero to approach him but instead, thrown out of the smoke like a wild apparition and crumbling on the ground like a sack of flour, there’s Midoriya. Todoroki kneels instinctively, one hand reaching for his vitals.

“Seems I found your fucking pet.”

He’s only unconscious, even if his breathing is a little shallow. As Todoroki hauls him on one shoulder, he notices the blood trickling down his face.

“Did you do this?” He asks, gesturing the injury.

“Me? Why would I waste my time on fucking Deku?”

“Time spent harassing him is never wasted with you, Bakugou,” Todoroki replies crisply. “You still appear to enjoy picking on him, even after all this time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean ‘even after all this time’? It’s not like that loser got a Quirk, right? He’s still as fucking useless as before.”

“He’s not a loser.”

Bakugou snorts, “Yeah, right, that’s shit. Only a loser would recognise another.”

Todoroki clicks his tongue, looking away and readjusting Midoriya on his shoulder. He’s in no mood to fight against Bakugou whose energy never runs out, rather intensifies the longer the argument stretches. It’s one of the many reasons Todoroki doesn’t interact with the explosive Hero.

“I can’t believe Deku’s still alive.”

“And I can’t believe you’re still so close-minded.”

“Ah?” Bakugou shouts, closing the distance between them and grabbing his shoulder. Todoroki snarls, elbowing Bakugou away. “The fuck you’re saying? Like you’re any better when you don’t use your fucking flames.”

“I used them,” Todoroki weakly defends himself, feeling his left hand shaking as if reminded of the sensation. “Times are changing, Bakugou, and with your attitude you might not make it.”

“Is that a fucking threat? Thought you were smarter than this.”

“With the Judge on the prowl, no one is safe.”

“Ah! As if that amateur can actually harm me.”

Todoroki doesn’t bother delving further into the subject. With his motions stiff so he wouldn’t jostle Midoriya, he strides towards the civilians’ zone. Bakugou doesn’t follow him, preferring to head towards the action. Once he’s certain he’s alone, he stops, looking down at Midoriya’s face.

“He’s not here anymore.”

Midoriya cracks one eye open, immediately fixing itself on Todoroki. “When did you know...?”

“I’m afraid you make a poor impression of an unconscious person.”

“But I was really unconscious before,” he protests, sliding off Todoroki although the latter doesn’t let go of him, acting as his support. “It’s just that when I heard Bakugou...”

“I know. You tensed.”

Midoriya lets out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his head. Todoroki doesn’t understand why. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He didn’t learn much when he talked to Midoriya Inko since she herself had trouble talking about this dark period of her son’s childhood. What he was told, however, was that Katsuki Bakugou was like an indelible spot of ink staining Midoriya’s memories, darkening what was supposed to be pages of white.

“How did you do it?” Midoriya startles, frowning, and Todoroki beckons his state. Beside the bruises colouring his body and his knee as bad as before, he has no broken bones and he’s still very much alive. “You didn’t hurt yourself in your fall.”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember...”

Todoroki assumes a hit to the head does that to people, but he’s learned not to trust everything Midoriya tells him. He might look innocent yet he’s anything but.

“You can take your time remembering. I won’t leave your side.”

Midoriya was still bound, after all, to stay with him. He offers him a dry smile, which Todoroki reciprocates. Any hint of seriousness vanishes from Midoriya’s face in an instant, his eyes growing wide. Todoroki watches his gawking, suddenly self-conscious.

“What?” He snaps, a little harsher than intended.

“You smiled. Well, it wasn’t a real smile but it was one nonetheless.”

Todoroki’s smile drops, his face darkening. He’s aware he isn’t the person who has the most welcoming personality but is this really how people see him?

“I’m not the heartless monster you think I am.”

Midoriya blinks. “I never thought you were a monster.” He sounds sincere and Todoroki truly wants to believe he is but he knows better. As if hearing his thoughts, Midoriya limps forward, eyes glimmering with conviction. “I just think you’re a little too stiff. You don’t... You’re so formal. So aloof. Would you like to befriend a block of ice?”

Todoroki gapes at the comparison and opens his mouth to reply but Midoriya beats him to it.

“But that’s alright. I mean, you already improved since you used your fire.”

Todoroki feels his cheeks burning yet it has nothing to do with his Quirk. “About that, I—”

“No need to thank me. You always had it in you but you were too stupid not to use it.”

Todoroki can’t help but scoffing at being called stupid but perhaps he needed it. Arguing won’t get them anywhere, so instead he bends over, taking Midoriya’s arm and wrapping it around his neck. Ignoring his yelp of indignation, Todoroki starts walking, pulling Midoriya with him.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers, and Midoriya simply accepts to lean on him, murmuring a ‘Thank you’ lost in the sounds of explosions.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Reminded

 “Sometimes you can’t let go of the past without facing it again.”
― Gail Tsukiyama, The Samurai’s Garden

Midoriya was sleeping when Todoroki got home, curled into a foetal position on the Hero’s futon and his soft breathing filling the entire apartment. Todoroki feels as if he entered in a sauna, the cold he’s grown accustomed to changing to the warmth he always unknowingly searched for, now suddenly within reach.

He manoeuvres around the boxes still crowding the space before putting the groceries on the counter, almost wincing as the carton of milk thuds against the surface. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighs as he notices Midoriya merely shifting, burrowing his face deeper in the sheets. From this angle, he looked like a child, still unscarred, still believing.

Todoroki wonders when exactly Midoriya stopped believing.

Probably when he realised the Quirk he was waiting for would never come.

Todoroki sighs, taking the radio lying on the kitchen table and moving to the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bath tub, he turns the device on, the sound so low he has to strain his ears to hear something.

“...not been heard of since. We now have three possibilities. One, the Judge’s waiting for the right time to kill. Second, he’s currently planning to kill. Three, he still hasn’t chosen his victim.”

“You’re not considering the possibility the Judge stopped spilling blood?”

“That would be rather nice, wouldn’t it? I’m afraid this world is not nice, Miss, far from it. The Judge hasn’t stopped killing. Do you know why he’s been dubbed ‘The Judge’? The marks he leaves on the crime scenes are the same: guilty. Who are the victims he targets? Pro Heroes. I can’t say for certain that the Judge targets all Pro Heroes since we’re not sure what he accused them of, but there are still many Pro Heroes roaming free in Japan.”

“Do you have any idea what connects the three victims?”

“I’m not certain but I daresay they failed to protect citizens.”

“And what would make you say that?”

“Well, Pro Heroes can be guilty of one thing: breaking their vow.”

“Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki starts, the radio jostling in his hands as he fumbles to shut it down. The bathroom door slides open, revealing Midoriya still wrapped in a blanket and wiping his bleary eyes with the back of his knuckles.

“What are you doing, Todoroki-kun?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

The Hero doesn’t even bother trying to lie. “Listening to the new speculations on the Judge.”

“And what of it?”

Todoroki’s eyes narrow down, inspecting each of Midoriya’s movements. He was smiling, the corner of his lips very still. He wasn’t even shivering from the cold, although his feet were bare against the cement. Everything about him is steady but Todoroki never trusts balance. The one thing he learned in his twenty years of existence is that balance can be toppled by the lightest breeze.

“They have a very interesting theory about what caused him to act. This man was suggesting that Pro Heroes were guilty of failing to protect citizens. What do you think?”

“I think it’s plausible, or perhaps he’s killing for personal reasons. We don’t know what goes through the Judge’s head, do we?”

“It goes without saying.”

Midoriya suddenly shudders, tightening the sheets around himself. “Anyway, what did you buy?”

Todoroki stands up, pushing Midoriya against the wall and forcing him to step back into their bed-kitchen room. He almost falls on his rear, his feet tripping against the sheets, but catches himself against the counter. Todoroki ignores him, taking out the carton and two brown paper bags.

“Really,” Midoriya snorts as he gestures towards Todoroki’s groceries. “Milk and takeout.”

“It consists of my main diet, yes.”

Midoriya shakes his head, unsure if Todoroki’s sincere expression means he’s joking or that it’s naively honest. “That is shit. When I invited you over, I cooked you cold soba, didn’t I?”

“And I’m still thankful for it. However, unless you want to die from food poisoning, this is what we’re going to eat.” As if to emphasise his words, he hands one of the bags to Midoriya with a solemn expression that only fades away once Midoriya grabs it. “Please enjoy your meal.”

Midoriya plops back on the futon, warming his hands around the bag, while Todoroki settles down at the kitchen table and doesn’t waste time eating. By the corner of his eyes he catches Todoroki faltering, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“You’re not eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need energy if you want to heal.”

Midoriya sends him a sharp glare. “I’m fine.”

“Your doctor told me you have to rest for a week. You only spent a day in bed.”

“One day’s enough. And I’m not eating that.”

He expects Todoroki to be angry, at least, irritated, but the latter sighs, as if he anticipated it. Midoriya turns away but is acutely aware of the Pro Hero crouching down to sit beside him. Even if a respectable distance separates them, Midoriya can feel the heat emanating from Todoroki’s left side, somehow amplified since his Quirk is awakened. The urge to twitch, to move away from him and to get out of this prison is tempting but doing so would be interpreted as a weakness and as a sign he has something to hide.

Midoriya has nothing to hide. He rather exposes the crimes Pro Heroes hid, thinking they could get away with the law.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

Midoriya eyes Todoroki, his nose wrinkling. “Why should I?”

“Don’t you have something you want to tell me?”

“If it’s about the Judge I have nothing to say.”

“Stop thinking about the Judge for a second,” Todoroki replies, and Midoriya stifles a sardonic chuckle at his hypocrisy. “I was talking about Bakugou.”

His body stiffens at the sole mention of these three syllables, and he disgusts himself for it. It’s all in the past now, and while he chose to bury it down, the present keeps on unearthing his memories. What that man — who was only a boy when it all happened — did to him made him tougher and smarter, for he realised how harsh reality can be and he should be grateful for it. He doesn’t need naivety and innocence and believing chimeras; what he needs is control, knowledge and efficiency.

“What of him?” He mutters after a few seconds of mulling over.

“He saved you.”

Midoriya scoffs. “He did not.” Bakugou saving him has to be the most absurd idea he’s ever heard of. To even consider the Hero doing such a thing would be against all odds, like getting struck by lightning yet winning the lottery at the same time. “You’re mad.”

“I didn’t arrive on time when you crashed but he was there, carrying you.”

“I’m sure he was planning to dump me in Sumida River hoping I’d drown.”

“Is there any chance you’ll find the strength to forgive him, one day?”

An answer has never come to his mind so easily. “Of course not. Would you?”

He caught Todoroki off guard, the lightest of frowns settling on his features. “What?”

“Would you forgive your father, one day?”

He got him. No indication on his face gives away his emotions but Midoriya’s convinced an inner conflict is raging within Todoroki. Everything he learned about the Pro Hero points in one direction: deep hatred towards his father. Midoriya may not always believe what’s written in magazines but it’s evident the articles on their rocky relationship are true. They mention furtive glares, shoulders unconsciously turned away, cold and raging gazes clashing together, hissed words exchanged when they thought they were alone. It’s a different form of hatred, Midoriya’s aware of it, but it runs as deep in Todoroki’s veins as his towards Bakugou.

“I don’t even know what he did, but I bet my good knee you wouldn’t forgive him.”

Todoroki stares at his good knee, as if taking Midoriya’s words literally. “I won’t forgive him because his motive was selfish. All of this could’ve been avoided.”

“And what was ‘this’?” Midoriya prompts.

The Hero stares at him and it seems this single action sapped him of his energy. “This?”

If Todoroki needs a little push to spill the beans, then Midoriya is ready to fling him in the right direction. However, the words elude him as he observes Todoroki’s slumped figure leaning against the wall, his eyes cast downwards. He isn’t the picture of defeat, not quite, but there is resignation in the way his head bows and solitude as his body curls inwards, as if to shield itself from the world.

“Don’t you sometimes wish...?” He can’t finish his sentence from lack of raw inspiration, his assurance deflating faster than sniffing out a flame. “This world... is not fair.”

“I’m surprised you just noticed, you who was born Quirkless.”

“Not only about my condition. Quirklessness is but a fraction of unfairness. It’s more than that.”

Beside him, Todoroki answers, deadpan, “You want to talk to me about him, don’t you?”

It isn’t ‘Endeavor’, or even ‘Father’. It was just ‘him’. Just a nameless face to reduce the pain and erase the memories.

“I think it’d be beneficent for you to talk about him. About ‘this’.”

Todoroki stays quiet, staring at the ceiling. Midoriya follows his gaze and startles, noticing for the first time the small corner just above the sink coloured in indigo dotted with glimmering stars. A small gasps escapes his mouth as he examines the canvas of violet fading into black with swirling blue hues, a lighter tint symbolising the Milky Way crossing the entirety of the image. It couldn’t be taller and wider than a few inches, but it’s been drawn with such breathtaking realism that Midoriya feels like gazing at the open sky.

“Did you paint this?”

“It was already there. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Midoriya can only nod, his eyes still riveted to the painting. “Things like these show the dichotomy this world possesses. You seem to focus very much on the bad side but there’s so much more. That painting, for example, or just people who care for us. Sometimes, that’s simply what it takes.” The saying was so sudden, full of nostalgia, and unlike his aloof self that Midoriya stares. Todoroki apparently realises his oddity too, for he adds, “I’m saying this so you won’t depress too much.”

“I know there’s a good side to life. I just haven’t been graced with it a lot.”

“I think you were, on the contrary.”

Midoriya snorts, “Care to elaborate?”

“Your mother, for example,” Todoroki murmurs, and he somehow knows that it’s the only example Todoroki needs to convince him. “We talked a bit when you were treated at the hospital and just from a few interactions, I can tell how much she loves you.”

“And yours didn’t?”

Todoroki’s jaw tenses and Midoriya has to strain his ears to hear him whisper, “She did. Too much.”

“What happened?” Todoroki shoots him a wary glance and Midoriya shrinks on himself. “Listen, I know I’m curious but I really think telling someone about it would help you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I already told someone about it and it didn’t help at all.”

“Who did you tell?”

“All Might.”

Midoriya stops himself from gaping. “All Might? The All Might?”

“Do you know anyone else?”

He shakes his head, his lips sewn shut but his mind boggling. He remembers Tsukauchi asking him to deliver All Might’s letter to Todoroki, which led the two of them to meet for a second time in a less gruesome setting. He never knew, in the end, what brewed between the two Pro Heroes since he forgot to ask about it.

“All Might didn’t help?”

“He can’t always help,” is the morose answer he receives.

“He can’t help people who don’t want to be helped. I helped you with your flames but only because we were stuck in a life or death situation. Otherwise, you never would’ve used them, would you?” Todoroki averting his eyes is all he needs to know. “I want to yell at you for limiting yourself.”

Todoroki meets his eyes without flinching. “You can yell all you want.”

Midoriya huffs. “Fine. Then you’re not worth helping.”

“Fine,” the Hero glowers, standing up and grabbing his takeout.

Midoriya watches him tensing as he examines a faraway spot outside, the paper brown wrinkling as his grip around it tightens. Faking disinterest, he follows Todoroki from the corner of his eyes as he vanishes in the one-way corridor leading to the exit.

“What are you doing? Are you running away? I thought you had to look after me.”

He waits for the expected response, no doubt another taunting and sharp reply that would encourage provocation, but the moments following his sentence are filled with silence. Frowning, he unfurls his knees cautiously, stretching his neck as he tries to catch a glimpse of the Hero.

“Todoroki-kun?”

Almost inaudible, he hears the door’s metallic lock sliding in the slot, the chain chiming as it moves. Just as Midoriya opens his mouth to speak, three bangs break the quietness, shattering the apartment’s stillness. Emerging from the shadows, Todoroki hurries to his side, noiseless as he seems to glide on the floor as if on ice. Unsure of what to do, Midoriya lets the Hero get him on his feet, and he’s ushered without explanation into the bathroom. The last thing he sees before the door clicks shut is Todoroki’s pale face, his forefinger held in front of his closed lips in complete silence.

Something bursts on the other side of the closed door, Midoriya jumping in surprise. The entire apartment’s foundations quake, similarly to his legs. Forcing his heartbeat to slow down, one hand clutching his chest, he breathes out. Aside from the sudden detonation, there are no other sounds. He doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad sign.

“What do you want?” Todoroki’s voice is monotonous, but Midoriya catches the slight hitch in his breath before he speaks, as if mustering his strength. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I want you to delegate the Judge case to me.”

A hand flies to Midoriya’s mouth as his eyes grow wide. He’s heard the voice countless times during interviews and on the internet, browsing through videos filmed by civilians in the middle of a crisis.

“It’s unfortunate,” Todoroki breaks his musing, “because I don’t want to.”

“You are going to. The Police Force asked for me first. They only hired you because you’re their last resort.”

His voice doesn’t have any room for concessions but Todoroki’s being stubborn — or stupid, Midoriya can’t be sure — as he retorts, “I daresay I’m doing a fine job since they didn’t fire me.”

“A fine job, really?” There’s a pause, a snicker, and Midoriya imagines a condescending smirk. “Tell me, then, where’s the Judge? I thought your job was to catch him, not let him roam free.”

“I’m working on it,” Todoroki hisses.

“You should let the professionals handle this case.”

“I am a professional.”

“You’re not. You’ve always been childish to withhold your flames.”

“I...”

Midoriya wants to yank his hair out. Why doesn’t he say it? Why doesn’t Todoroki tell him he embraced his Quirk? He’s being insulted yet he doesn’t fight back. It doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m not giving you the choice, Shouto.”

“As if you ever let me have a choice.”

“You’re the one who’s restricting yourself to one path. All I did was to nudge you in the right direction but you’re so stubborn that you refuse my counsel.”

“Your counsel is worth nothing.” Even if Todoroki’s voice sounds a robotic as ever, Midoriya has grown accustomed to the nuances of his speech, and Todoroki sounds like a man who denies any version that isn’t close to the truth he wants to believe.

“You,” and there’s a deliberate pause in Endeavor’s speech, “are nothing.”

Midoriya feels like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs. He remembers a finger pointing at him, a contemptuous sneer curling dry lips and malicious red eyes.

If you don’t have a Quirk, then that means you’re nothing, and I’m not wasting my time with someone like you.

“I know you’re seeing Tsukauchi tomorrow. I want you to tell him you’re handing me the case.”

Todoroki doesn’t answer vocally, but his body language may very well convey his feelings. Midoriya hopes he’s unyielding, that he won’t make the mistake Midoriya did when he was younger, which was to take it all in without complaint. He thought he could breathe better if he accepted what everyone believed; it rather made his lungs choke in spite and his eyes burn.

“I’m going to find the Judge,” Todoroki says, and although his voice is withdrawn it’s also determined. “I’m going to arrest this criminal by myself and put an end to these murders.”

“You’re all words and no action.”

“And you’re all actions and no results.”

The tension is so palpable that Midoriya’s holding his breath, attentive to any noise from the two men. Endeavor’s the one to break the silence, his voice booming.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow morning to change your mind, Shouto.”

Midoriya listens to the sound of heavy footsteps decreasing, Todoroki’s father leaving the apartment. Tentatively, he peaks out of the bathroom door, his eyes immediately drawn to the gaping hole where once stood a door. Todoroki was idle on the threshold, staring at his father’s receding figure. Endeavor was in his Hero suit with his flames ablaze, causing quite the commotion in the street since people were whispering excitedly. The Hero was leaving footstep imprints on the asphalt, the air sizzling around him.

“I’m not giving up on you, Midoriya.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Todoroki glances at him over his shoulder, unamused. “The Judge is my case.”

“But I’m not the Judge, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya automatically replies with a fraying smile, tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya scoffs, dragging the last vowel wryly, “well I—”

“I didn’t spend enough time with the people I care for and I’m not making this mistake again.”

“Who did you lose that you cared about?” Midoriya asks before he realises it, and deep inside he already knows the answer. What he didn’t expect, however, was for Todoroki to beckon the gap left by the door with a pleasant smile.

“How about I show you?”

“Here it is.”

Midoriya follows him as they enter the cemetery. He shivers, gripping his coat tighter around himself, and his eyes sweep the entire area. They’re the only people wandering here, the only people alive, that is, for he’s convinced the dead are watching them, eager to drag them into the earth’s bowels. Midoriya picks up his pace, hurrying after Todoroki who was halfway inside. Glancing at the graves, Midoriya catches a few unknown surnames and ancient dates of death, but his eyes don’t linger on the graves too much.

“You could’ve just told me about it, you know. Dragging me to a cemetery wasn’t necessary,” Midoriya mutters.

“Actually, I thought a change of setting would be enlightening,” the Hero neutrally answers. “Besides, weren’t you the one who complained about going out?”

Midoriya shuts his mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction to be right. They progress further in the cemetery, the scent of incense growing stronger with each step they’re taking. It makes Midoriya’s head dizzy, and if he hadn’t nibbled at Todoroki’s stupid takeout beforehand, he’s almost certain he would’ve fainted.

Todoroki leads him on a small slope where more rows of stones are erected. As they climb the stairs also carved from stones, Midoriya can see how vast the graveyard is, some monuments higher than others, some adorned with yellow chrysanthemums, some with box for business cards and some devoid of any trinkets.

“Have you ever lost someone you care for, Midoriya?” The latter shakes his head before realising that Todoroki can’t see him. However, as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds it dry like sandpaper. “Most of the dead are cremated and most of the time the family has to watch the sliding of the casket into the cremation chamber. Afterwards, the relatives have to pick up the bones from the ashes with chopsticks to place them in an urn.”

Midoriya’s aware. He remembers watching a documentary on different cultures and their view on death and mourning, and while nothing too graphic was shown, he had been unable to sleep that night. He had climbed in his mother’s bed and huddled close to her, listening to her steady breathing and reminding himself she was alive and that he wouldn’t have to separate her bones from her ashes. On the next day, he couldn’t eat breakfast because he was too afraid it would taste like ashes.

“Some people believe they’re completely safe. They forget that they can die within a blink of an eye, but when you went to a funeral you never forget.”

Midoriya swallows the lump down his throat, thankful that Todoroki isn’t looking at him. Their destination consists of a stone monument towering over the surrounding ones. An old tree provides it mild shade, its branches twisting their way towards the sky in a strange ballet. Spider lilies cover the earth, drowning it in a sea of red undulating in the wind.

Examining the carvings on the stone, Midoriya pales. There are two names on the grave, but one of them is coloured in red ink, meaning that this person was still alive. Midoriya knows it well since this same person barged through the apartment and practically threatened Todoroki to hand him the Judge case, which means that the other name belonged to...

“I was seven when my mother passed away.” If Midoriya ever thought Todoroki sounded stoic before, it was nothing compared to his voice now. He wasn’t staring at the stone pillar or even at Midoriya. He was staring at his left hand, held aloft in the air, and Midoriya can see it quivering. “I was the one who set her casket afire.”

Midoriya feels like he’s about to choke and collapse but he remains standing. “Did your father—?”

“I didn’t want this man to lay his hands once more on her body. It’s already unconceivable to think that when he’ll die, his ashes will rest eternally beside my mother’s.” There’s nothing to rebuke but he’s convinced he’s about to be sick. “Aren’t you going to ask me how she died?”

“I don’t want you to... to remember all that.”

His response is too weak and hesitant to be convincing. Truthfully, Midoriya’s saying it for his own sake and as he faces Todoroki’s narrowed eyes, he knows he can’t fool him.

“You’re unaffected when you have to announce to someone that her fiancee died because you were distracted, but you’re suddenly uncomfortable when standing in front of a grave?”

Midoriya blocks Natsuhiko’s tear-stained face from his mind, protesting, “It’s different...”

“How is this different? Natsuhiko-san couldn’t even pick her bones apart, did you know? The Quirk reduced everything to ashes. Perhaps Tomura made him a favour in the end.”

“Todoroki-kun, stop it...”

But Todoroki doesn’t stop. He smiles coldly and keeps going, and his voice sounds like thunder in the empty graveyard. “I was told that Liliana Schmidt’s family asked for her ashes to be sent back to England. It’s sad, isn’t it, that Natsuhiko can’t even visit her grave?”

“Shut up!”

Midoriya lets out a shaky breath as he sits down on the ground, his bad knee throbbing. The Todoroki family grave stares back at him, two incense sticks guarding the crypt-like chamber where Todoroki’s mother’s urn is kept.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t know who he addresses himself to.

“So am I.”

He turns to see Todoroki kneeling next to him, holding in two flowers made of ice, one in each hands. Midoriya gasps, edging closer unconsciously to take a better look. If Todoroki hadn’t been taken in Yuuei, he could’ve become an ice sculptor without any difficulty. The symmetrical petals unfurl and curve backwards elegantly, the ice becoming thinner near the tip.

“Each year, I visit her and I make her two lilies out of the Quirk she gave me.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Would you like to place one?”

The air rushes back in Midoriya’s lungs just in time for him to whisper, “I’m allowed to?”

Todoroki nods and extends his hand, putting the delicate ice flower in Midoriya’s open palm. The sculpture stings a little at the clash of temperature between the ice and his skin but fortunately it doesn’t melt. Todoroki must keep his Quirk activated all the time if he wants them to overcome the ever changing weather.

Todoroki stands up and Midoriya mirrors him. The Hero then puts the flower beside the right incense stick, where it glimmers under the sun. He gazes back at Midoriya, tilting his head towards the grave, and Midoriya gulps down as he steps forward. As he struggles to crouch without bending his knee too much, his cheeks burn in embarrassment since he must look like a fool, but there’s no one but him and Todoroki, and perhaps his mother watching them from above, so he buries his pride and places the flower on the opposite side.

Midoriya’s about to retract his hand to his side when Todoroki’s left one closes around it. Even if the latter doesn’t war any gloves, his hands are warm since he can regulate his body temperature now that he uses his fire Quirk. The heat is sudden but welcome, so Midoriya doesn’t pull back.

Todoroki squeezes his hand before speaking. “You have two faces, Midoriya. The first is the one you wear all the time. You may look nice and friendly, but it’s only a veneer to hide your treacherous and sadistic nature.”

“And what about the second one?” Midoriya inquires emotionlessly.

“You may look treacherous and sadistic, but it’s only a veneer to hide your benevolent and perceptive nature. The problem is that you’ve grown accustomed to wear a mask, so much that you began to believe it’s your real one.”

Midoriya snorts, “What is this? I told you to stop playing psychologist.”

“I’m not playing psychologist. I can see both of my parents within you and I desperately want to see your kindness win.”

Midoriya removes his hand, rising up and wincing as his knee flexed. “I’m going to give you a moment alone with your mother.”

He bows in respect in front of the family grave before spinning on his heels and climbing down the slope. He wasn’t running away, of course not. He was aware Todoroki needed some time to sort his brain out since he was spewing nonsense. After all, being compared to Todoroki’s dead mother and his loathed father isn’t what Midoriya would qualify as a compliment.

Kindness and treachery? Is it how Todoroki consider his parents? One whose compassion was overflowing yet surely caused her death and the other, with boiling rage and selfish motives he put in front of everyone else? Midoriya shudders. Somehow, he has no trouble associating the Judge with Endeavor even though they’re different.

They are different.

“Did you bring your subway pass?”

Midoriya raises his head when Todoroki walks back to him, his gait solemn. His step seems lighter than before and under his eyelids, the dark shadows had faded to faint grey.

Midoriya glances at him, inquiring, “If I say yes, where are you planning to drag me this time?”

“Not to another cemetery, don’t be so wary,” he chuckles, then pauses for a moment. “You don’t seem to like takeout so I suggest going to the grocery store.”

There it is again, Todoroki’s chuckle that Midoriya thought was a one-time occurrence. Todoroki definitely is full of surprises, today, and Midoriya can’t help but smiling in return.

“I’m going to cook you cold soba as long as you don’t hand the Judge case to your father. I wouldn’t stand working with him.”

“Then you’re going to cook for a long time, Midoriya.”

And as they walk out of the cemetery, a single crystal snowflake swirled in the air between them before settling down on the petal of an ice flower lily.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Prompted

“You can’t run from the shadows but you can invite them to dance.”

— Anonymous

Going back to the Police Force after a forced break was a real blessing. Midoriya never would’ve thought he would miss browsing through the archives or gathering information, but at least he was doing something instead of laying on a futon and staring at the ceiling. He sometimes went out, yes, with Todoroki by his side like a bodyguard, but the walks to the supermarket were dull and uneventful. They were very, very short, for Todoroki didn’t want him to strain his knee and even considered the idea of renting a wheelchair, which Midoriya rejected outrightly.

The Hero, much to his relief, wasn’t much of a hassle when they were in his apartment. He let him enough space to breathe, although Midoriya never forgot his presence. As expected, the second futon didn’t fit with all the boxes cramping the space, thus Todoroki decided to clean the apartment on his own, ordering Midoriya to stay seated. While the contents of the boxes thoroughly intrigued him, Midoriya was soon disappointed to see they held nothing he could use against him. There were mostly clothes and books, but a box marked ‘fragile’ contained a whole tea service kit in porcelain.

“It belonged to my grandmother, on my mother’s side,” Todoroki had told him as he dusted the kit.

In the last box there was another pleasant surprise. It was filled to the brim with notebooks, pencils, erasers reduced to a tiny stump from being overused, and even some medals from Todoroki’s passage at Yuuei. A singed training uniform was even neatly folded at the very bottom of the box. While Midoriya marvelled at such a treasure, Todoroki’s eyes were set in stone.

“There’s nothing useful in there.”

If Midoriya hadn’t insisted on keeping them, Todoroki would’ve set them afire with his newly discovered Quirk.

Even after cleaning, the second futon didn’t exactly fit, but Todoroki had no qualms about settling down next to Midoriya with their futons overlapping each other. However, Midoriya never caught him sleeping, for he would always wait before Midoriya is asleep to rest and he would always wake up at first light. Truthfully, Midoriya was more comfortable like this since he never realised Todoroki was there, inches away from him. His presence was a fleeting ghost, and he could almost make himself believe he was sleeping alone.

But today, their old routine would resume and Midoriya is giddy as he steps into the elevator. The exhaustion he might have felt after the fight near Sumida River disappeared completely, leaving him with renewed strength and determination to tackle the Judge case. After days of restlessness, he’s ready to face whatever Life would throw at him.

But he didn’t expect Life to offer him a rival.

“We have another case on the hand,” Tsukauchi announces as Tamakawa distributes among them photographs and reports by the forensics team. “It’s a murderer who attacks civilians and Heroes alike and drains them of their blood.”

“I didn’t hear anything from the media,” Todoroki notes as he gazes down at a photograph of a bald, stout man with his round glasses askew on his nose. He flips through the pictures before gazing at one of chopped fingers, one of them sporting a ring dyed crimson. “You must’ve kept it secret.”

“Since we also have the Judge to deal with, we don’t want the citizens to panic and doubt us. I admit we didn’t progress a lot but we’re doing what we can with our effectives, our equipment and what little time occurs between the crimes.”

Todoroki gives Midoriya the photo but the latter turns away, his stomach churning. The murder is messy, even messier than his own with Tozawa, which he didn’t think could be possible. “It can’t be worse than the Judge, can it?” He squeaks, fearing the answer.

“Actually, we have five victims as of now, four civilians and one Pro Hero, which is two more than with the Judge, but only the Hero died of blood loss. I assume we will give him a codename as well since this case is growing in importance,” Tsukauchi declares.

A burning sensation settles in his stomach, his fists curling. He’s been out for five days. Five days were enough for some nobody to kill messily with no definite goal in mind and make everyone forget the Judge even existed. It’s revolting. It’s insulting. Midoriya remembers promising in the League of Villains’ den they would strike in a week, that in a week actually is tomorrow, but he has no way of contacting his agents with his phone taken away from him and not even knowing what number to dial should he ever stumble upon a phone.

Did they forget already? Will they carry on the Judge’s legacy even if his hands are tied?

“Are we still working on the Judge’s case?”

It was the same question Midoriya wanted to ask, but it’s Todoroki who voiced it. Tsukauchi looks hesitant, avoiding the Hero’s eyes. The other officers in the room also turn away unconsciously, either looking at their feet or staring straight ahead. Midoriya looks around but none of them meets his gaze, and he notices how blank the walls are, devoid of any newspapers cut and photographs.

“I’m afraid Chief Tsuragamae handed the Judge case to another team.”

Todoroki’s eyes are blazing. “How come?”

Tsukauchi swallows. “We had no results and if the Judge follows his strategy, he’ll kill tomorrow. We’re only six men, so there’s little we can do to counter the next murder.”

“So you gave up all your hard work to some unknown team and if they ever catch the Judge, they’ll be the ones people will be thanking when you were the one who gathered the information?”

“Todoroki, we’re not men of the law for glory,” Tamakawa intervenes. “As long as the Judge gets arrested, our job will be done.”

“But my father is not a man of the law.”

There’s a shift in the office, like a breeze rustling the leaves off a dying tree. Tsukauchi brings a hand to his forehead as he shakes his head, sighing.

“Todoroki, can we talk—”

“Chief Tsuragamae didn’t decide on his own, did he? Endeavor convinced him.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” the detective answers with measured words, neither denying nor confirming the accusation. “We won’t get the case back.”

“But we are competent. We are determined and we are ready to die to catch this killer. We deserve to be on the case,” Todoroki protests.

“It’s not within our jurisdiction to decide who gets which case.”

Todoroki snarls and storms out of the office. The silence falling in the room is crushing and the air, colder, and Midoriya wonders if the Hero used his Quirk without even noticing, as if his instincts reacted on their own free will.

“Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi sighs, “can you...?” He doesn’t finish, rather gesturing towards the exit.

It didn’t even cross Midoriya’s mind to let Todoroki go away so he gets out of the office without hesitation. He doesn’t have to search for long since Todoroki’s striking two-toned hair acts as a beacon calling for his attention. The Hero’s leaning against the wall, arms folded.

“Todoroki-kun...”

“I won’t let this wretched man get the better of me. The Judge’s case is mine.”

“Our case, you mean,” Midoriya rectifies, “and we will solve it but first, we have to solve the one Tsukauchi-san just dumped on us. Then, we’ll be able to convince him to take the Judge’s case back.”

Todoroki groans but straightens, edging away from the wall. “Then we have to solve it now.”

Midoriya blinks, repeating, “Now?”

“Yes, now. The sooner it gets done, the sooner we’ll have the Judge’s case back.”

Todoroki’s halfway down the corridor, urging Midoriya to job to catch him up, and he’s heading towards the elevator. Midoriya believes the Hero did it on purpose, remembering that his knee prevents him from using the stairs. It embarrasses him that he has to use the elevator to get down of one floor, but with Todoroki riding it with him he finds himself less useless.

“How are we going to lure the Leech?”

“The Leech?”

“It’s the name I came up with for the bastard since they’re draining blood.”

He almost expects a rebuke but Todoroki shrugs, “Fair enough.”

The elevator jostles as it reaches the ground, the doors dinging as they slide open. Todoroki’s walking slower now to match his pace and Midoriya reddens at such consideration. They leave the building and the thought that Tsukauchi might be waiting for their return crosses their mind like a shooting star, incandescent albeit fleeting. Neither of them falters, rather hurrying away and seeking the windows’ blind spots.

“From what the Police Force gathered, the Leech acts at night and knocks the victim out before draining them,” Todoroki reveals. “They use a machine to collect the blood but we have no idea what they do with it.”

“It surely has to do something with a Quirk.”

“That’s what I think as well.”

Midoriya nods, meeting Todoroki’s eyes. He’s ready to face whatever Life’s throwing at him for the sake of his beliefs but what of Todoroki? The Hero is as adamant if not more as him to regain the case from his father’s clutches and while it’s understandable, there must be a greater purpose. He has no intention of emulating Endeavor and he also doesn’t seem to search for his approval. Is it to spite him, to show to Endeavor that he missed a remarkable case and that he, his son, received it instead?

Whatever reason drives Todoroki, it feeds the resolve burning in his eyes, and Midoriya couldn’t ask for a better partner.

“Where do we start?”

“The Leech’s victims are concentrated in an area, so that’s where we’ll head and then we’ll establish a strategy to neutralise them.”

It might be a coincidence that the Leech’s hunting grounds are nearby Todoroki’s apartment but as much as Midoriya would like to believe it, he can’t. Somehow, he’s aware Todoroki doesn’t believe it as well. He can read it in the tense line his shoulders form and how his eyes often stray to the sides, observing the throng of people flowing around them.

Then the tide shifts, or rather Todoroki cuts through the current like a salmon fraying its way in a river. Midoriya doesn’t recall the Hero grabbing his coat, but the latter’s pulling him in his wake with a firm grip on his coat’s sleeve.

“Todoroki-kun? Where are you dragging me?”

“The Leech preys in alleys. That’s where we’re going,” Todoroki answers without looking back.

“But it’s still day and you said he attacked at night.”

Todoroki slows down as they reach the entrance to a labyrinth of alleys. Midoriya wrenches himself free from Todoroki’s grip, shivering as he gazes down at the passageway. It’s called ‘Fog Lane’ according to a rusty metal plate fixed against the wall and as if faithful to its name, the alley was obscured by a charcoal cloud, its tendrils curling around their legs as if to drag them in the abyss. The dramatic effect is somewhat lessened by its location right next to a crepe shop, the scent of chocolate permeating the air.

“One can never be too prudent,” Todoroki mumbles, taking something out from his coat and tossing it to him.

Midoriya catches the object instinctively but fumbles with it once it’s in his hands, chills rolling down his back. “Oh dear, of all things... A gun, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki nods curtly, revealing a second weapon in the fold of his coat, identical to the gun he’s holding. Midoriya flinches at the sound of the pistol charging. Somehow, he can’t find the strength to do the same with his firearm.

“You’re going in front of me.”

“I-In front?” He stammers, glancing back at the fog swallowing the alley. “Are you sure...?”

“But first, your grip’s too loose and you’re handling it wrong. Always handle your gun with two hands to bear the recoil when you shoot and if you ever shoot, then you’ll lodge a bullet in your foot. Fortunately for you, you didn’t take off the safety.”

Midoriya grimaces and waves the gun back to Todoroki, “Take it back.”

He complies with a chuckle. “Also, when you give a gun, always show the butt instead of the chamber. People might interpret your gesture differently during a fight.”

Instead of putting it back in his pocket, he hooks it in a holster attached to his waist. His trench coat ripples, and Midoriya catches a glimpse of a sheath peeking beneath the hem of his shirt. Judging by its slim shape, it’s something akin to a dagger. He jolts when a strong and callous hand closes around his chin, jerking it upward, and their eyes locked.

“Never let your eyes wander,” he told him sternly. “Always focus on the matter at hand.”

“And what might the matter at hand be, this time?”

“The Leech, then the Judge, in a chronological order but not of priority.” Todoroki lets go of his chin, gesturing towards the alley. “Go on. I hope you can use your fists better than a gun.”

Midoriya offers him a wobbly thumbs up, which Todoroki shrugs aside by a roll of his eyes, and steps forward. Much to his chagrin, the fog-like cloud doesn’t dissipate as he advances and he finds himself squinting and trying to discern shapes. While aware that fog hampers visibility and doesn’t drown noise, he can’t hear anything but his shallow breaths coming out in puffs and his footsteps combined with Todoroki’s.

“You have a plan, don’t you?” He murmurs, not daring to talk louder. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“I have a plan,” his disembodied voice confirms. “It consists of improvisation.”

Midoriya halts dead in his tracks. Behind him, he senses Todoroki doing the same. Slowly, he turns around to stare at a brutally honest face, devoid of any signs of dupery.

“You’re not serious.”

Todoroki tilts his head to the side. “But I am.”

And just like that, Midoriya bursts out laughing. This whole search is silly. He doesn’t know what’s worse: being patronised by Tsukauchi or blindly following Todoroki who proves himself to be as clueless as he is. Ending up in the middle of nowhere hunting for a ghost, how ridiculous can it be and how much more absurd can it get? As his laugher echoes and bounces back in his own ears, he’s quieted by urgent hushing and a slight slap on his shoulder.

“Quiet! You—”

“I can’t believe I thought you were better than me,” Midoriya guffaws. “You’re just a—”

Todoroki scowls and presses one hand against his mouth, silencing his last words. Midoriya’s first reaction is to laugh even louder but Todoroki’s not looking at him, rather staring in the distance. He can’t fathom what the Hero sees in the fog. Perhaps he’s hallucinating.

“Did you hear that?”

Midoriya gazes sideways at him but Todoroki’s eyes are darting all around. Soon, the hand leaves his lips as Todoroki swivels as if to strike an enemy behind him but there’s nothing but an endless alley. The cloud billows around them, breezing past their shoulders and unfurling around their body. Midoriya clears his throat but Todoroki shoots him a warning look that he ignores entirely.

“Just what—”

“Hush!” Todoroki snaps, glowering at him. “Listen.”

The childish urge to disobey flickers through Midoriya’s mind but he doesn’t heed it. He closes his eyes and and breathes through his nose. The cloud’s drowning everything: the noise, the surroundings and even his senses are dulled because he can’t smell the chocolate anymore. The revelation makes him start and he hits his forehead with a gasp.

It doesn’t smell anything.

“It’s a Quirk,” Midoriya realises. “Todoroki, we have to go.”

The latter stares at him as if Midoriya asked of him to make up with Endeavor. “What are you blabbering on about?”

“It’s a trap.”

“Of course it’s a—” He stops short, his eyes widening. “Behind you!”

In a blur Todoroki’s reaching out for him and Midoriya flinches, raising both fists and adopting a fighting stance. He knows the Hero’s undoubtedly targeting someone behind him, but his mind matches his motion to Bakugou’s lunging before dealing a blow. But the hit he half-expects never connects. Instead, Todoroki’s pushing him behind himself, shielding his frail body with his own much stronger and adapted to battle, and doesn’t even jolt when a dagger shoots out of the cloud, seeking his heart. Midoriya cries out to warn him but Todoroki doesn’t even wince as the weapon sinks... into ice.

Midoriya sighs in relief, watching the blade stuck mere millimetres before piercing Todoroki’s skin. Three more knives shoot from the cloud, but Todoroki creates a wall of ice, blocking the attack.

“Retreat,” is the only word he utters.

“But if it’s the Leech then we have to arrest them.”

“No.” He doesn’t even spare him glance, his fingers trailing on the wall of ice. “I’ll be the only one to arrest him. You go warn Tsukauchi.”

“I go what?”

Todoroki graces him with a glare thrown from over his shoulder. Neither of them flinches when two more blades are thrown out of thin air from the other side of the ice wall before clattering on the ground.

“I’m not your assistant or your goddamn secretary. If you want to warn the police do it yourself with the phone you took from me,” Midoriya seethes.

Todoroki snorts, looking back to his ice. “You’ve gained confidence, Midoriya. That’s good.” It sounds like a praise, not that Midoriya was seeking for it. “Then stay with me but don’t fuck up.”

Midoriya lets out a strangled noise, “Did you just swear?”

“Yeah, I fucking did.”

He can’t contain his laugher, but the relaxed moment is ruptured by the wall of ice exploding. Todoroki’s fire melts the tiny shards hurtling towards them, the smoke weaving with the cloud and creating a cloud of such thickness that Midoriya has trouble seeing even Todoroki standing a few feet away from him.

“No, don’t tell me... Is this who I think it is?”

The male voice comes from the fog, unfamiliar and gravelly. Midoriya and Todoroki tense, the latter aiming ahead of him with his gun.

“Are you the one accused of draining five people of their blood, resulting in the death of Pro Hero Kenichirou Garou?” Todoroki asks, projecting his voice.

“What if I am? It was so much fun to watch all that blood spilling from him! Now, what will strong and handsome Pro Hero Shouto do?”

“Handsome?” Todoroki repeats in bewilderment.

Midoriaya rolls his eyes and steps forward, his shoulder bumping Todoroki’s. “He’s not alone. I’m Officer Midoriya Izuku of the Police Force.”

“Officer... Midoriya?”

He shudders at the stranger’s tone, as if he had an epiphany. The cloud begins clearing, revealing a bald, stout man with his glasses askew on his nose. Both Todoroki and Midoriya falter, recognising him as one of the Leech’s victims supposedly bedridden in the hospital.

“What the...?”

A grin splits the man’s face from ear to ear, the only warning they get before he thrust forward, knives already flying out of his hands. One of them lands on the stone wall, a mere inch from Midoriya’s surprised face. The others are all deflected by Todoroki’s arm encased in ice, the daggers bouncing back without causing any damage.

“Midoriya, get back!”

He unleashes his flames on the man who dodges it by dropping to the ground. The Leech should’ve focused on Todoroki who was now continuing the offensive with his ice, but his eyes are riveted on Midoriya as his manic beam grows wider. For a corpulent man, he moves with grace and stealth, twisting his body around so fast Midoriya’s eyes have trouble following him. But one’s thing certain through the series of kicks and punches and thrown daggers he delivers: the Leech’s getting closer, advantaged by the alley’s narrowness that prevents Todoroki from using mid and long-range attacks.

The Hero may counter and par but at this rate, he’s never going to defeat his opponent, so Midoriya spins around and runs. As much as he wants to prove to Todoroki that he’s not as useless as he thinks he is, his instincts are telling him to get as far as possible from the Leech. He feels a twinge in his knee and curses Tomura for the umpteenth time, gritting his teeth as he keeps dashing down the clouded passageway.

He can smell chocolate again, which means he’s nearing the main avenue, but right before he can reach it, a hand shoots from a perpendicular alley he didn’t see and grabs him by the neck. Groaning, he elbows his assailant in the ribs, earning a satisfying pained grunt. He dislodges himself by kicking the stranger in the shins with his foot and without losing his momentum, he whirls around with his fist flying to hit whoever it is in the face only to meet a firm hand stopping his punch.

“Easy there, little Judge,” the stranger, who is not a stranger the more Midoriya distinguishes his features, sneers. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your agent, would you?”

Midoriya retracts his fist, his eyes raking his agent’s lanky frame. “Dabi. You’re taking an immense risk by coming here alone.”

“Who said I was alone?” He retorts with this same infuriating smile. “You’re the one who told us what to do after, all.”

If Midoriya had growing doubts about Dabi’s sanity, now he’s certain there’s something missing in the other’s brain. “What are you talking about? I never issued any order.”

“But you did. Don’t you remember?” Midoriya shakes his head and Dabi snaps his fingers, features lighting up in awareness. “That’s right. There’s a coded sentence that can break the spell you’re under or something. What was it again? Something along the lines of... ‘you can’t run from the shadows but you can invite them to dance’.”

Midoriya gasps as the memories rush back in his head, fitting in the murky spots in his mind that he shrugged aside. The fall with the winged creature near Sumida River...

Midoriya stares at the sky clear of any clouds and sighs. If he had Quirk, he could soar and join its vastness. If he had a Quirk, he could make its weather bend to his will. If he had a Quirk, he could be so much more.

He tenses as crunching noises grow louder behind him. Kicking the rubble, hands tucked in his pants, posture casual as if it’s nothing but a walk in the park, a person’s walking towards him. After skirting around the creature’s motionless body sprawled a few meters from Midoriya, they stop only mere feet away from him, licking their parched lips.

Midoriya lets his eyes fall shut.

“So it worked.”

“I don’t know what did but I assume it has to do with your next selection,” Dabi mumbles as he sits on top of the creature instead of on the ground like Midoriya. “Heroes are coming so make it quick.”

“You have to tell me everything about your Quirk and Toga’s. If I’m planning an offensive, then I need to know what assets I possess before placing them.”

“My Quirk is Cremation. I burn things, mostly people. As for the bitch, she takes blood and transforms into that someone whose blood it is or something like that.” Midoriya nods eagerly, hand waving in the air and prompting it to elaborate, which causes Dabi to click his tongue and look away. “I don’t know much about her Quirk but I can tell you about mine. I can produce flames and I use them to attack but also as a defence by screening myself and using the recoil to get out of range.”

“Can you screen others? How long does it hold?”

“Don’t know. Never tried.”

Midoriya hums, rubbing his chin. A plan was slowly bubbling up in his head but the loose variables and the lack of knowledge made him uneasy. He isn’t an idiot who’d enact his strategy without backing it up twice, thrice, even four times when it comes to attacking that man.

“If I may,” the villain asks, “who did you choose as your next victims?”

“A victim. But first, what can you tell me about Toga?”

Dabi groans, “She needs blood to transform, but I don’t know how much it takes for her to actually get to transform. As for the transformation itself, I don’t know how long it lasts but I know for sure that she doesn’t gain the person’s Quirk.”

“Disappointing but manageable,” Midoriya mumbles under his breath. “Is she a good actress?”

His agent blinks. “What? How should I know?”

“I need to know if she can properly impersonate someone. It’s essential for the next cleansing.”

“If she can’t then she’ll practice. She’d do anything for you. Ever the romantic since she started spewing nonsense about how she’d like to dance in a rain made of your blood.”

Midoriya shudders. “That matter aside, here’s my plan.”

He tells Dabi who listens without any emotions hinting his approval. However, when Midoriya’s finished, a lazy smile curls his lips and he chuckles, “That’ll be fun.”

“Another thing. I need you to recruit another agent if we want to win this one. Take a skilled fighter, someone who isn’t afraid, someone loyal to the cause. I trust your judgment.”

He makes a lousy reverence, assuring him, “I shall be a judge for your sake. If we’re done, then I’m afraid we’ll have to make you forget this little conversation we had.”

Midoriya starts, “But how will I know—?”

Dabi stands from his spot and shushes him. “You don’t need to. Have some faith, Judge. All for One is watching you. He won’t let anything go wrong.”

He turns around, whistling, and another blue monster emerges from the smoke. It towers above the men, gangly limbs dragging dust on the ground as it approaches them at a snail’s pace. Its unblinking eyes are locked on Midoriya who swallows, hitting his legs to keep them from twitching.

He musters a smile, inquiring, “What is that... thing doing here?”

“This Nomu has mind-control abilities. He’ll take good care of you,” Dabi promises as he pats the creature’s arm like one would do so with a dog. “But first, to make your memory loss credible, I’ll have to do this little thing...”

Before Midoriya can ask him what the ‘little thing’ entails, Dabi grabs the back of his head with his nails digging in his matted hair and brings it down against the concrete. Midoriya groans as pain spikes in his forehead, his entire head throbbing and his vision swimming. The last thing he hears before he succumbs to the darkness is Dabi’s snigger as he lets go of him, “Good night, Judge.”

“You bastard,” Midoriya splutters as he rubs the back of his head. “I had a concussion.”

“I’m glad to hear that since it was the goal.”

His scowls deepens as he observes Dabi’s triumphant grin. Things were starting to become less muddy. With her transformation Quirk, Toga was capable of sneaking into heavily guarded places like the Police Force’s building. He’s now convinced that she was the one who took Tsukauchi’s backup USB key since she’s the only one who has the ability to carry on an important thievery without getting caught. Before he even asserted himself as the Judge, his agents were already watching his back, weren’t they?

An explosion makes him look back to where Todoroki was fighting with a disguised Toga and his heart clenches, although he’s not sure who he’s worrying more about.

“Do you think she’ll win?”

“Don’t worry about that sadist. Besides, the agent I’ve recruited is with her.”

Midoriya has never looked around so fast before. “You found someone?”

“Yes. A man in his thirties incredibly skilled, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Midoriya murmurs. “What’s his name?”

“Don’t know. Like you, he refused to tell us his true name.”

“Then how does he want to be called?”

“Uhm, Smear? Smudge? No, that’s not it,” Dabi mutters. “Ah. It’s Stain.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Misled

 “Just because something isn’t a lie does not mean that it isn't deceptive. A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction.”

— Criss Jami

The human body contains about four to five litres of blood. Unfortunately, once it loses about one point five litres of it, the body irremediably falls in a precarious state where it hovers between life and death. Should a transfusion, undertaken with donor whose blood is evidently compatible, be impossible, then it takes two to three minutes for the human body to shut down for eternity, which is the same amount of time for an average person to wait for a hot cup of tea to cool down.

Todoroki Shouto lost one point seventy eight litres in the minuscule space of seventy-two seconds. Instead of pooling on the ground and slithering down the sewers, the blood was gathered through plastic tubes into numerous cookie jars which were stored for later purposes. Fortunately, Midoriya Izuku had the brilliance to call for an ambulance.

Unfortunately, the blood transfusion will take fifteen hours more than Midoriya has planned, postponing his grand finale. His agents, who were impatient to execute the last step of the operation, were left to simmer, and Midoriya hopes that their zeal wouldn’t need to be rekindle because of the unexpected and additional wait.

Hence his situation, watching from his stiff chair the blood dripping from a plastic pouch and redirected inside Todoroki’s veins. Said Hero was staring at the wall blankly, bandages wrapped around his arms and his neck to conceal the innumerable gashes he received from his fight against the Leech.

His defeat against the Leech.

Todoroki hadn’t uttered a word since he woke up, a few hours ago. The grogginess clouding his eyes had disappeared once his ears caught the news playing on the radio. The Judge had challenged Pro Hero Endeavor of all people by sending him a letter using the finest paper and written with the most sophisticated calligraphy. Despite the aesthetics, the message within was a provocation, an omen and a mistake, according to the main concerned.

“The Judge can come at me all he wants. I’ll burn him to a crisp.”

Todoroki had blinked at his father’s words, then closed his eyes. Even when Detective Tsukauchi came to visit him, the Hero didn’t move again. If Midoriya knew better, he’d say Todoroki was sleeping. The latter, however, was all but sleeping: he was reflecting on the recent events.

“Chief Tsuragamae dispatched his best agents to monitor the situation, even if Endeavor said he didn’t need anyone to watch his back. They’ll definitely catch the Judge. It’ll be all over by tomorrow,” Tsukauchi smiled before leaving with a light spring in his steps that expressed his certitude.

But neither Midoriya nor Todoroki wishes for the case to be over.

Yet if the case ends according to the former’s plans, then he won’t have to stay chained to the Hero’s side.

“If the Judge gets caught, you’ll see it wasn’t me from the start,” Midoriya tells him, not expecting a reaction but Todoroki frowns.

“He won’t,” he whispers as a matter of fact, his voice brittle and cracking. Midoriya hurries to pour him a glass of water that Todoroki accepts without emotionlessly. He doesn’t bring the plastic cup to his lips, rather nurses it on his lap and gazes at it. “He’s too smart for that.”

“It’s almost like you admire him.”

Todoroki sighs and chooses this moment to drink, making Midoriya’s leg jerks and his fingers grip the edge of his seat. “In a way, I do,” he admits, reclining on his pillows. “It takes a lot of guts to confront Endeavor.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of experience in that matter.”

Midoriya finds himself the target of cold blue and grey eyes storming with unspoken fury. “I’m not elaborating.”

Midoriya folds his arms as he can’t help but feel a pinch of disappointment. Everything was going so smoothly.

“I simply stating a fact.”

“Of course. How could I misinterpret,” Todoroki mumbles, rolling his eyes.

But Midoriya wouldn’t give him any respite. “Still, I’m a little envious. You see, I never got a father or anyone to fulfil this void. I love my mother, of course, but one parent can’t be enough,” he says through gritted teeth, inwardly begging his mother forgiveness for his horrendous lie, but it elicited the reaction he anticipated.

Todoroki props himself on his elbows, baring his teeth. “Do you even hear yourself speaking? If I could, I’d swap my parents’ situation without hesitation.”

“But your mother—“

“My mother was infinitely better and she deserved to live. I can’t say the same for him.”

Midoriya chews his bottom lip, shifting on his seat. “That’s a serious thing to say, Todoroki-kun.”

“I think every word I say,” is the ultimate answer he’s given. It’s alright since Midoriya heard everything he desired.

Midoriya checks his left wrist, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“When did you buy a watch?” Todoroki inquires, and before Midoriya can pull away, his hand has gripped the green, plastic strap.

“There’s a vending machine selling some. Do you want me to buy one for you?”

Todoroki’s fingers rub the cheap material, as if trying to find something hidden, then let go. “I’ll pass. It’s strange that you bought a watch when there’s a clock on the wall behind you... or perhaps this watch has a goal other than showing time?”

Midoriya laughs, “How silly. A watch always shows time.”

“Indeed, but our perspective of time may differ.”

Midoriya deems it safer to remain quiet than to speak. He rises from his chair, stretching his legs and his arms, and winces when his neck cracks once he tilts his head to the side. Todoroki examines him, lips pursed, as he heads towards the exit.

“What are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t it be obvious?” Midoriya snorts, not even glancing over his shoulder. “I made sure you survived the blood loss and now I’m leaving.”

“If you go now, I can’t confirm your innocence,” Todoroki insists, and the rustling of blankets indicates that he’s now in a sitting position. “Unless there’s something you want to confess.”

“Is this supposed to be a reason to make me stay? Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Tonight, everything will be over.”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki calls, and since it may be the last time the two of them can talk like this, Midoriya spins on his heels and grants him his wish. “Will I ever get to know who you really are?”

“Didn’t I tell you, Todoroki-kun? What you’re seeing is the real me.”

And as he swivels and leaves the room, he’s not sure who spoke between Midoriya Izuku and the Judge.

The man calling himself ‘Stain’ is a most peculiar individual. His eyes are of a piercing red, following Midoriya’s every gesture and undoubtedly registering them for a future reference. He covers his face with bandages and hides his neck with a crimson, tattered scarf that always floats even if Midoriya swears there’s no breeze. On his back, attached with straps, a pair of sheathed katanas remind Midoriya of the strength, speed and endurance his newest agent displayed when fighting against Todoroki.

Stain is not someone he can underestimate, for his blade seems fickle and may one day menace to slice Midoriya’s neck.

Yet for the present moment, Stain is folding his arms, leaning in a corner of Todoroki’s apartment, while Toga sits crossed-legged on Todoroki’s futon and rocking herself, her hair swaying similarly as her body, and beside her is Dabi who is sprawled across the spare futon. Indeed, since there are no place Midoriya can think of to meet three dangerous criminals, he decided to convene them in the Hero’s apartment.

“Thank you for coming,” Midoriya begins, swallowing back his insecurity as Stain’s eyes dart on him. “And I welcome our new member, Stain.”

The latter only grunts at being addressed, looking like he’d rather sink into the wall than being the centre of attention. His gaze never strays from Midoriya but its fierceness decreases of a fraction.

“Tonight, we’ll cause an uproar in the world of Pro Heroes. We’re reminding them that even no one can run away from judgment and that their sins are indelible. Our target is Endeavor, Pro Hero Number Two, for he has failed the three Duties countless times. To achieve this, we’ll—”

“If I may,” Stain interrupts, “I’ve never heard of Endeavor breaking the last Duty you call ‘honour’. He may be ruthless and focus on the villains more than the civilians, but he didn’t sully his profession.”

“It is common knowledge that Endeavor and his son are on bad terms. After delving deeper, I discovered Endeavor abused his wife and his son, which resulted in his wife’s death and scarring his son. Now that this is clarified, we can proceed—”

“And you intend to frame his son, isn’t it, by using his hatred towards his father as a motive to be the Judge?”

Midoriya clicks his tongue, glowering, “Yes. Is there any other input you wish to make or can I continue without your interventions?”

“Endeavor’s son is a Pro Hero, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” he snaps, noticing how Toga and Dabi inspect their verbal exchange as if trying to see who will have the final word. “What’s your point?”

“As far as I’m aware, the young Todoroki didn’t fail any of your Duties. He’s been a respectable Pro Hero and yet, you want to frame him for the Judge’s actions. For someone who abides by justice, condemning an innocent like the young Todoroki is against your ideals. There are hundreds of Pro Hero who failed at least one of the Duties and yet your choice fell on Endeavor’s son.”

“It is regrettable, yes, but Todoroki Shouto is the only suitable person since he has a grudge already existent against his father that makes a fine motive. Besides, he has suspicion about the Judge’s identity, so we have to neutralise him before he can tell them to the Police Force.”

Stain sniffles, his eyes a shade darker as he murmurs, “If you’re so confident about your choice, then I’m not opposed to it.”

“I am confident,” Midoriya replies, ignoring his heart’s fluttering. “Now, the plan, unless someone wants to speak up?”

Stain nods solemnly, though his arms still folded might indicate remnants of his previous protestation. Toga is all toothy smile, her cheeks redder than usual at the enticing prospect of spilling more blood. Dabi doesn’t say anything but Midoriya’s learned that his silence is a synonym of approval.

“Todoroki will be discharged around one this afternoon. To make it more credible, we won’t act before two. There are three easy steps. One, Toga under the guise of Todoroki will enter in Endeavor’s house. Two, Dabi and Strain will enter by the back while Toga distracts him. Three, you kill him and Dabi burns the house down.”

“One of the Judge’s marvellously elaborated plans,” Dabi snorts, rolling on his stomach. “I can’t wait to battle another fire user.”

“I wonder if the father’s blood will be tastier than the son’s,” Toga muses aloud, licking her lips with sparkling eyes.

Since Stain remains silent, Midoriya nods in his direction until he mutters, “This is not going to be easy, but we shall be victorious in justice’s name.”

“I’m going to keep Todoroki busy then leave him around two alone in this very apartment. Also, here,” Midoriya says as he gives them each tiny earphones, “we’ll able to be in contact with one another.”

“Am I understanding that you’re not coming with us, Judge?” Stain concludes as he takes his pair. “Shouldn’t the leader lead the offensive?”

The tip of Midoriya’s ears grow red as he stammers, “I’m not sure I should come... I mean, since I have no Quirk and all, I think I’d be a burden...”

“But didn’t you kill Tozawa Anri with your bare hands? Someone who can kill is no burden but a weapon. You should come with us, Judge.”

He searches for support from Toga and Dabi, but the former looks positively thrilled by his presence on the battlefield while the latter shrugs, but the hint of a smirk hints he’s pleased with the turn of events.

“We need your guidance, Judge,” he drawls, confirming Midoriya’s suspicion.

“It’ll be an awesome party!” Toga squeals, clapping as if she just witnessed a miracle. “We should all go to eat afterwards and the one who spills blood the less pays the bill!”

“That’s not fair since you and Stain have a blood Quirk,” Dabi counters.

Midoriya watches them banter, a faint smile curling his lips. The eclectic group, this ragtag team acting of justice, he formed would be the death of him. With their vigour renewed, Midoriya adjourns the meeting, heart heavy in his chest. Targeting Endeavor is a gamble he intends to win but at the expenses of Todoroki.

“I can’t wait to see you in action, Judge,” Stain comments before leaping out of the balcony, landing on the lower roof with a feline grace than dashing away.

“I’m not doing this,” Dabi snorts as he watches Stain vanish. “Too hardcore for me.”

“You’re just scared of heights, not like Mr Stainy,” Toga retorts as she browses through Todoroki’s old Yuuei furniture. She takes out a pencil case and unzips it, watching its content scatter on the floor and cackling in glee. “You shouldn’t hesitate to jump, Dabi. Of course, it’d be disappointing if you don’t— Hey, look at that!”

She picks a folded piece of paper from amidst the pencils and erasers, brandishing it in the air and waving it like a flag. Midoriya’s quick to snatch it away from her, noticing the faint traces of tear stains crinkling the paper and the worn edges as if it’s been folded and unfolded countless times. He spreads it out in silence, Dabi and Toga hovering behind him over his shoulders.

“What does it say?” Toga asks, standing on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the sheet since Midoriya’s taller than her. “I can’t see!”

“I don’t think we‘re supposed to read this,” Dabi whispers, his voice devoid of his usual sarcasm. He averts his eyes and quits Midoriya’s side to sit on one of the wooden chairs, hands clasped together. “We shouldn’t read this.”

But Midoriya is absorbed by the words scribbled in blue ink on the sheet of paper, old of over a decade according to the date written in the left corner of the sheet. Once he finished reading, he pockets it and, ignoring Toga’s whining, heads towards the door.

“I want everything to be spotless before one in the afternoon. Pro Hero Shouto must not know any of us came here.”

He shuts the door before any of his agents could answer.

Midoriya was waiting outside the hospital with his umbrella gathering droplets when he distinguishes Todoroki confirming his departure at the main desk. He stands straight, silent as he waits for the nurse currently rummaging through her papers. She gives him his coat along with a spare umbrella, gesturing outside at the rain, and when Todoroki’s eyes follow the motion that’s when he notices Midoriya standing. The latter waves with a small smile.

Todoroki looks shocked, but Midoriya will never know if it’s because of his presence in particular or of a presence, that someone, anyone, is waiting for him. Then he frowns, his eyes cast downward and he turns around, his back facing Midoriya who blinks numbly. When the Hero steps out, craning his neck as he observes the light rain enveloping the city, his eyes were flickering as if trying to fend off an inner darkness. Wordlessly he opens his umbrella and strolls to Midoriya’s side.

“Do you feel any better, Todoroki-kun?”

“I’ve been thinking about the reason the Judge chose Endeavor as his next victim,” he replies with no preamble. “My father is guilty of crimes that are unknown to the public. Only people who know the Todoroki family are aware of them and I can count them on one hand. There are two possibilities. One, the Judge is one of these people or two, he gleaned it from these people.”

Or three, the Judge is a member of the Todoroki family.

“I’ve reached the conclusion once again that you are the Judge. It pains me,” Todoroki adds before Midoriya can deny it. “The enemy I swore to arrest happens to be the only one caring enough to wait for me as I get discharged from the hospital. Then again, the attack was surely your doing, wasn’t it?”

Midoriya shrugs, “The Leech and the Judge are two independent entities.”

“I see,” Todoroki sighs. “Let’s go then.”

“Where?”

“To see my father, of course. If the Judge attacks him today, then we’ll get to catch him.”

Midoriya’s blood turns cold. Todoroki’s right, the Judge will be there, but the true Todoroki must not under any circumstances be present as well.

“Your father will refuse your help so it’s pretty useless to show up,” Midoriya counters as he tries to search for Todoroki’s face, conveniently shielded by the Hero’s tilted umbrella.

“I thought you were as adamant as I am to catch the Judge, so why the sudden reticence?”

“It’s not reticence,” he’s quick to answer, perhaps too quick, for he notices Todoroki’s grip around his umbrella tightening. “It’s cautions and common sense.”

A slow smile curls Todoroki’s lips but he doesn’t push. “Then what can I do for you? Coming here once I’m discharged, surely you wanted something?”

Whatever he was expecting certainly wasn’t the bow he receives from Midoriya, their umbrellas bumping into each other. As if to make sure he’s seeing right, Todoroki straightens his one to have a better look, failing to hide eyes wide in surprise.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?” And Todoroki is honest as Midoriya takes a peak, watching his lips slightly parted and the interrogation marks dancing in both eyes. “I thought you disliked staying with me.”

“I did but I... don’t anymore,” he admits with his eyebrows furrowing, displeased with his revelation. “I know you wanted to watch me and it didn’t entail taking care of me and my injury, but you did with patience and diligence. So I thank you.”

Todoroki acknowledges him with a small nod, still struggling to school his features in his usual emotionlessness. “There’s no need to thank me, and don’t think you can change the topic so easily.”

Midoriya smiles or else he would’ve winced. “I was thinking of celebrating. My knee’s doing good, you’ve been discharged and the Judge will be arrested tonight. How about lunch?”

“Only if you pay.”

“Well, you’re the one who has the better salary.”

“Says the man who invited me to dinner yet refuses to fulfil his responsibility as initiator?”

“Alright, you got me,” Midoriya chuckles, holding his hands in the air. “I’m going to pay.”

While the rain isn’t bother, the humidity seeping into their bones make them eager to hide from the weather. The closest izakya is full of people huddled against the counter as they devour bowls of rice, elbows hitting each other as a battle to have more space. In the end, they wait outside the small restaurant squeezed under a parapet, their umbrella dripping more puddles on the asphalt, as they listen to the city’s lulling noises.

Todoroki stares ahead with half-lidded eyes, following the cars passing by with apparent laziness yet Midoriya recognises the sharpness deep within his orbs. They’re so often concealed by indifference, by this mask he’s constantly wearing, believing he can truly fool people. And as Midoriya keeps watching him, he realises that perhaps it takes a person donning a mask to know when another dons one well, that perhaps both of them think they’re obscure while they are transparent to each other.

“Todoroki-kun,” he begins, unsure. He doesn’t look at her; somehow, his palms become clammy and his throat, dry. “Todoroki-kun, when you saw me waiting for you... Why did you look so sad?”

“Some memories, sometimes they drag me down. I’m not like you, Midoriya,” he explains, turning to him so now he has his full attention. “I don’t have a free life.”

“But you do. You chose to be a Pro Hero. A good one, even.”

“That doesn’t make me free.”

As he speaks, he doesn’t frown but rather sighs. He glances towards the izakaya’s door and groans when he notes it’s still closed. He throws his head backwards against the wall with a dull thud.

“You can do it,” Midoriya whispers and startles when Todoroki stares at him again. “Well, you want to dissociate yourself from your father, right? That is your ultimate goal.”

“I don’t think I can achieve it.”

He shakes his head, his messy hair bobbing, “You don’t need to think. Just believe it.”

Todoroki avoids looking at him, replying, “It’s not like I didn’t try but I’m a man of facts. It’s not everyone who can dream and see them come true. You’re lucky, Midoriya.”

“I know,” he murmurs breathlessly, thinking of his loving mother, of the house whose doors are always wide open for her, of the comfortable albeit dull life he settled in since working in the Police Force, but most of all, thinking how lucky he is to know Todoroki. “I know.”

But when I look at you, I don’t see Endeavor at all.

Silence returned, overwhelming the splashes of water, the cars rushing by, the laughter of the people eating, and enveloped them in a world they could call their own. The red lanterns attached to the parapet sway as the wind snakes between them, the kanji dancing on the wrinkled bonbori.

“You know, Todoroki-kun, you don’t have to stay with me,” Midoriya tells him. “I apologise that I dragged you here quite forcefully.”

Todoroki’s eyes regain some energy and intensity as they pierce through him. “I’m fine. If I’m here, it’s because I’ve chosen to be here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else now.”

Midoriya almost chokes on his own saliva. He doesn’t know if they were intended to him or to his invitation to the restaurant, but his heart skips a little without his approbation. He searches for Todoroki’s gaze but it’s set on the door swinging open, two salarymen opening their umbrella as they step outside.

“It was about time,” Todoroki grumbles as he stalks towards the izakaya.

Midoriya checks his watch. The salarymen are disappearing around the corner. The izakaya’s light red drapes that conceal the entrance and the restaurant’s only window dangle. Taking a deep breath, he reaches out for the the Hero.

“Todoroki-kun!” Their fingers brush, a spike of heat coursing through his hand as if Todoroki’s Quirk latched onto him. Their eyes meet and lock, and Midoriya can’t breathe. “I’m sorry.”

He had one second to take out a small device from his pocket, stab him in the gut and slam down the button. As much as he wants to screw his eyes shut, he keeps them open while Todoroki’s roll in their orbit and close. Midoriya removes the taser, his breath shuddering as he watches Todoroki’s body convulsing on the ground, his clothes soaking up.

With shaky hands, he pockets his taser back and staggers back, leaning against the wall. He’s never seen Todoroki sleeping, or even unconscious, and it doesn’t make things easier. The rigidity in his bones is gone, his face also slackening and losing the hardness of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. His muscles are more supple and his face, more peaceful.

How can you believe you have anything to do with your father?

With an umbrella balanced in one hand, Midoriya secures one of Todoroki’s arms around his neck, supporting his dead weight and dragging them towards a particular alley. He’s reaching his destination when the watch on his wrist goes off, a shrill alarm beeping.

“Where do I drop you?”

Midoriya beckons Todoroki with his head, “His apartment. I assume you know where it is.”

Kurogiri nods, turning away from him. “You’re fortunate that Tomura knows nothing of my involvement in your scheming.”

“Come on, it’s the only time I’m scheduling you,” Midoriya retorts, readjusting his grip with Todoroki. “Besides, you have All for One’s approval.”

Midoriya nods, hauling Todoroki with him towards one of Kurogiri’s portals. He has one half of his body engulfed in the darkness when the villain speaks again.

“I’m impressed you decided to frame an innocent for your crimes. You’ve changed, Midoriya Izuku.”

Yes, he changed, so much that the thoughts clouding his mind are contradictory to everything he strove to accomplish so far.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to frame you.

I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Conflicted

“Weak men cannot handle power. It will either crush them, or they will use it to crush others.”
― Jocelyn Murray, The English Pirate

Trails of water run down Midoriya’s jugular, dripping from his chin. His shirt’s plastered against his chest, as drenched as he is, and his hair flattened by the water obscures his vision. He scrambles to his feet, the revolver slick in his hands. His earpiece, linked to his three agents, is emitting a faint screeching sound, making his head throb.

“Still alive, Judge?”

Stain’s voice is more grating the low pitch in his ear. Midoriya nods, then shakes his head as he remembers no one can see him. He wanders around, searching for a shelter from the rain.

“I’m fine,” he pants, his eyes sweeping the area.

The Todoroki family’s house is located in a quaint neighbourhood, far enough from Tokyo’s bustling but easily accessible by subway... or rather by personal taxi since Midoriya can hardly picture them riding the metro. It’s a traditional Japanese house built among modern houses, as if belonging to another era. Midoriya’s ready to bet there’s a nice Japanese garden in the backyard and he’s dying to see it since his objective, actually, is to get behind the house while Stain blocks the east exit and Dabi, the west.

He damns them, the two of them.

“How do you enjoy your little stroll in the rain?”

It was Dabi, this time, and Midoriya can practically hear the smirk in his tone. The latter is certain his three agents are all indoors, safe from the rain, and laughing at his incapability of doing the same.

“It’s pleasant,” he retorts through gritted teeth. “I absolutely adore being rained on.”

“Judge, I’m about to get in.”

Midoriya chokes and stumbles, one hand on his heart. He knew it was Toga talking with Todoroki’s voice since the Hero was very much unconscious in his apartment, and the tone was too cheerful to belong to him, but hearing this word with his voice...

Judge.

It sounds so wrong.

“Wait for my command,” Midoriya replies after finding his breath.

He can’t believe he’s stumped over something as futile as trespassing on someone else’s house while he already did far worse. Closing his eyes, he imagines he’s been called on an emergency case, that he actually has a warrant, that it’s a matter of life or death. In a way, it is, since if he doesn’t block the south exit, then the whole plan is endangered.

After taking a deep breath, he barges on the Todoroki’s neighbours’ lawn, well aware that his shoes are leaving mud footprints on the grass that will be washed away by the rain. There’s a stone wall separating the two properties, but his eyes pinpoint the quickest, easiest way to get over the obstacle. He’s been trained for years, barked at for his slowness, mocked at because of his skinny frame compared to the block of beefs training beside him, pushed over his limits countless times to prove to everyone that he was enough.

For the first time in four years, he’s finally sent on the field.

Getting over the wall is nothing he can’t manage; falling without hurting himself, however, is another story. He’s heard many times that rolling when he falls prevents injuries and it does, but only if the motion is carried out correctly. Midoriya rather tumbles over the wall and scrapes his elbows as he tries to ease his descent. He dives headfirst in yellow grass, grunting as small rocks prick his body.

“You alright there, Judge? I’ve been waiting for so long that I think I’m rotting,” Dabi groans.

Midoriya swallows back the urge to snap, rather ordering, “Go, Toga, and remember that Todoroki doesn’t show a lot of emotions and that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going in.”

Midoriya breathes out. His hands are quivering and it’s not from the cold.

It’s going to be fine.

Before going to their position, Stain and Dabi took out any police officer within a mile radius so ensure they won’t be interrupted during their operation.

Everything will go smoothly.

His agents will not address him as ‘Judge’ but as ‘Deku’. Should they fail, Midoriya’s face won’t be recognised since he’s wearing a mask. Much to his dismay, he can’t do much about his unruly hair, but he tells himself pair of scissors can do marvels.

We’re not going to fail. We can’t.

Stain is a competent fighter who possesses speed and intelligence. He needs an opening to reach Endeavor and activate his Quirk, and if his skills aren’t enough to allow him close to the Hero, then Toga and Dabi will back him up. Toga’s weapons of predilection are a couple of knives and her own bare hands. Despite her petite stature, Midoriya knows just how strong she is. As for Dabi, his flames will counter the Pro Hero’s and screen his colleagues as they attack furtively.

As for Midoriya himself, he is armed. While Endeavor is a formidable opponent, he’s still human, and a clean bullet between the eyes won’t save him.

I’m enough.

Midoriya dashes across the garden and takes cover on a small wooden balcony, wiping his brow. The neighbourhood is silent, lulled to sleep by the rain’s lullaby. In the distance, thunder rumbles and its echoes make Midoriya’s bones quake alike. Lightning flickers, tearing the sky apart.

“Endeavor let her in,” Stain confirms. “Seems like he didn’t even question her presence.”

“Perhaps he was already expecting his son?” Dabi reflects aloud.

“Impossible,” Midoriya ripostes. “Now silence.”

He can’t perceive with clarity what Endeavor tells Toga but it’s along the lines of surprise with hints of satisfaction. Had Endeavor spoken to the real Todoroki, Midoriya would’ve barged inside to grab the younger Hero by the neck and drag him away. The Number Hero Two’s voice is booming, full of confidence, full of arrogance that makes him want to puke.

“I’m not here for pleasantries,” Toga replies to an unknown sentence with Todoroki’s voice, and Midoriya has to admit Toga has excellent acting talents. He can attest it since he spent the last weeks with the Hero.

Faintly, Endeavor’s gruff answer can be heard. “Then why are you here?”

“I want to catch the Judge.”

“So you want to be my sidekick?”

Midoriya knows the real Todoroki would deny the statement instantly, and he’s glad that Toga read the notes he took concerning Todoroki’s habits and manner of speech. He hears the sharp click of her tongue and has no trouble imagining her brow wrinkling.

“You’re insulting me. Being your sidekick is akin to being your slave. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“I want,” Endeavor pauses and the floor creaks, “to have my son back. Let me be clear, Shouto. The Judge is mine, but you can observe me in action using the flames that are rightly yours.”

“This is a generous offer that must have a price.”

“Of course. How about a training session?”

Midoriya curses under his breath, hissing, “Toga, it’s a trap. You have to refuse.”

“Answer or he’ll suspect something,” Stain urges.

“Let her breathe,” Dabi mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“You must be rusty since your Hero office is always empty,” Endeavor continues. “I heard you never get any calls but that you manage to survive because of that friend of yours, the girl Yaoyorozu.”

A sharp intake of breath well-timed, then Toga is heard seething, “Leave her out of this.”

“A Todoroki is strong on his own and doesn’t need anyone.”

Todoroki’s voice is firm, infused with disgust. “Then I don’t want to be a Todoroki. I should’ve taken my mother’s surname.”

“If you want it so, then you should’ve followed her to the grave.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

Midoriya’s breath hitches and he reminds himself it’s not Todoroki but someone wearing his face. “Toga, that’s enough. You have to move him away from the door.”

“I’m not using my flames as your son or even as a Todoroki and they’re stronger because of it.”

Endeavor takes the bait. “Are they? Let me remind you just who gave you those flames.”

The earpiece is silent, except for the light fall of footsteps. Midoriya holds his breath, stalking towards the window sill under which he crouches down, holding the gun close to his chest.

“They’re moving,” Stain confirms. “How do we proceed?”

“As you go in, I’ll shoot him from behind as a distraction. Toga will hold him off until you arrive.”

Dabi whistles, “You sure your aim is good? You won’t have a second chance.”

“I know,” Midoriya sighs, wiping his gloves on his pants. While the rain wasn’t making his gloves wet and his grip slippery, his palms confined inside were clammy. “I’ll aim to kill.”

He peruses down through the window where he catches familiar silhouettes becoming more definite, colours blooming from the previous darkness and features getting clearer. Then they stop in the middle of the corridor, neither Endeavor nor Toga daring to break the sudden paralysis. They might be speaking but to Midoriya every sound is muted by the steady rhythm of heartbeat.

“They stopped in front of the north exit, Judge,” Stain informs. “We’re waiting for your signal.”

“Proceed,” he orders, infinitely relieved that his voice doesn’t shake.

His grip on his gun doesn’t loosen as he takes aim, targeting the back of Endeavor’s head. Glancing over his shoulders, the garden is empty and the streets, as silent as a mausoleum. He almost grimaces, his stomach sinking. He doesn’t know what he was expecting by looking back.

Midoriya should know better than to look back.

He narrows his eyes, volutes of mist escaping his mouth as he breathes out. His fingers graze the trigger, their caress teasing. Then the shadows shift and he doesn’t hesitate. The bullet leaves the chamber in a deafening silence, the gun shaking from the blast.

“Did you get him?” Stain asks him while Dabi confirms he’s inside the house.

For an exhilarating second, Midoriya is certain he did. His hands didn’t waver, thus the trajectory didn’t deviate from its course. However, he couldn’t have predicted that Endeavor would burst into flames at this precise moment, the fire engulfing even the back of his head as it flares to life.

Midoriya startles and ducks under the window, convinced that he’s been spotted, but the doom he awaits never comes. The heavy pitter-patter of the rain, his own quivering breathing and Stain’s urgent voice are the only sounds he hears.

“Judge, did you get him? I won’t go in without a diversion.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t shoot?” Dabi shouts in his earpiece. “He’s going to realise I got in!”

“But I—”

But I shot him.

From behind the Number Two Hero’s bulky frame and flickering flames, Midoriya catches Toga faltering, her eyes darting across the room yet never meeting his. He almost drops his gun as realisation dawns on him. Endeavor didn’t activate his Quirk to melt the bullet. He activated it to intimidate his son, or who he thought was his son, to begin the training.

Alright but what did his father do?

What did he do? The answer can’t be clearer than the scene he’s witnessing.

Yaoyorozu's voice had been withdrawn, her eyes cast downward. He… He didn’t act like a father.

Midoriya stands up and cocks his gun, aiming this time for a flaw in Endeavor’s armour. The latter’s whole back is an unprotected area, his spinal cord practically begging to be severed. But the bullet ejected from the weapon, once again, doesn’t hit the bullseye as Endeavor spins around, one hand afire that closes around the projectile and destroying it. Midoriya remains petrified where he is as two blue eyes glare at him.

“And just who are you, boy?” Endeavor inquires, his voice echoing in Midoriya’s earpiece.

If he adjusts his stance a little to the right, then he could hit the Hero in the heart. As entertaining as it is to even imagine this scenario, Midoriya knows it’s unconceivable as long as fire separates him from his target.

There had been no emotion in Todoroki’s voice as he revealed one of his heart’s darkest desires. My mother was infinitely better and she deserved to live. I can’t say the same for him.

He ground his teeth and does it anyway.

He fires once, twice, thrice, his arms jerking from the recoil. His knuckles are white and his eyes, narrowed down while fire equal to the one surrounding Endeavor blazes bright within his orbs. The bullets all vanish in the flames but Midoriya keeps on firing until his gun is empty.

“What,” Endeavor snorts, cocking an eyebrow, “is this all you’ve got?”

Before Midoriya can answer, Endeavor whirls around and unleashes flames towards Toga. The latter leaps back in a graceful arc, using one arm as a support to propel herself to jump farther once more. Midoriya curses, fumbling to take new cartridges and to put them in his gun.

“I knew it,” the Hero growls, eyes still riveted on Toga. “You’re not my son.”

He didn’t take even one step forward that Midoriya fires again, the bullets all melting away. Even if it didn’t cause any damage, Endeavor turns around to focus on him and Midoriya spits at him.

“Eyes on me, you monster.”

“How did you call—?”

Midoriya makes the mistake of eyeing Stain jumping behind Endeavour and ready to slice his neck, which causes Endeavor to stop abruptly, sensing the presence behind him. The Hero catches the blade with a hand engulfed in flames, the metal heating up at an alarming rate. Midoriya’s heart lurches at another failed attempt. They need to retreat.

“Dabi!”

The room is filled with smoke in a matter of seconds, enveloping them. The last thing Midoriya sees before he’s shrouded is Endeavor’s enraged countenance.

“Cowards!” He roars, exploding in flames that sweep away the smokescreen and revealing Midoriya’s three agents circling him. “Fight me!”

“You are Pro Hero Endeavor, aren’t you?”

Stain steps forward, detaching itself from the trio. One of his katana has its edge blunted since the melted metal got distorted by the fire. Still, the agent looks as confident as ever with his eyes narrowed to slits. Endeavor stiffens, his flames flaring and pulsing in a threatening manner.

“I am. Are you the Judge?”

“I am not. My name is Stain.”

Endeavor huffs. “Then I have no interest in you. Who among you is the Judge?”

Midoriya feels a tad insulted that the Hero doesn’t even bother considering him, examining his trio. While Toga and Dabi exchange an amused glance, Stain beckons Midoriya standing still on the balcony with his rather nonexistent chin.

Midoriya stands straighter as the Hero glances over his shoulder. “I am.”

“You?” Endeavor bursts out laughing and Midoriya’s face burns as the sound reverberates in his ears. “Is that a joke? You can’t be the Judge.”

“I am,” Midoriya repeats without raising his voice, “and I’ve selected you.”

He nods at his agents and the three of them lunge. Endeavor dodges with agility, his motions fluid as if he learned a choreography beforehand and was rehearsing it. The attacks don’t connect, and while Midoriya empties yet a third set of bullets, he approaches him dangerously. His voracious smile is splitting his face, one gigantic hand closing around his neck and squeezing.

Midoriya gasps as his feet leave the ground, kicking in the air as a desperate measure to free himself. He’s being dangled like a doll as Endeavor defends and attacks, his head spinning like a whirligig. He claws at the hand yet refuses to drop his gun, using the weapon’s butt to thwack Endeavor’s hand repeatedly until it’s wrenched from his grasp. He splutters and blinks to clear away the black spots dotting his vision, but he distinguishes Toga’s disguise melting like wax.

“That’s enough.”

His world narrows to those few words.

Midoriya screams as fire singes his fingers, but the hand around his neck releases him and he crumbles on the ground. He kneels on the grass, doubled over as his stomach heaves. Nothing but saliva leaves his mouth but his throat is scorching. He chokes again, kneading his neck, and looks up someone standing in front of him, as if to shield him from Endeavor.

He’s definitely hallucinating.

His eyes sweep the area but don’t catch a glimpse of his three agents. The only person present beside him and Endeavor is this newcomer who should be knocked out miles away from here.

But Todoroki Shouto is here, putting a garbage bag over his head, grabbing him by the waist and hauling him in the air before running away.

He hears distinct hiss of teargas being released before he’s tossed in the air like a potato sack. Yelping, he crashes on a soft ground, his back against a wall, as his hands try to latch onto something. A door slams followed by two similar sounds, and it’s not until an engine roar that he understands he’s on a car’s backseat. The car swerves and he’s thrown against the window, groaning.

“Todoroki, you better explain everything to me.”

Midoriya tenses, identifying the female voice as Yaoyorozu’s. Of all the people Todoroki can ask for, he chose the one person who might recognise him behind his mask and under the plastic bag.

“Did you deal with him as I told you?”

“Yes, I did, but who—?”

“Focus on driving please.”

Todoroki’s voice is soft, weary, and Midoriya focuses on breathing, while whispered words he doesn’t grasp are exchanged between the Heroes. The drive lasts a few minutes before the car halts, a front door opening and shutting back. Midoriya’s already perking up when one hand grabs his forearm and all but pulls him out, letting him stagger blindly instead of catching him.

“Go now. I’ll contact you later.”

Yaoyorozu’s only answer is the car tires screeching before it drives away, leaving the two men in silence. Midoriya hastily removes the plastic bag as well as the mask, throwing them in the dirt. Todoroki led him in what appears to be a disaffected warehouse, with scraps of metal and pipes littering the floor as well musty, overthrown crates scattered across the open space.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya murmurs, “what a pleasant surprise...”

Todoroki doesn’t move away; he moves forward. He grips his shoulder and instead of steadying him, tips him over and sends him sprawling on the concrete. Midoriya lands on his rear, eyes wide as he takes in Todoroki’s smouldering eyes.

“Don’t move.”

“Todoroki-kun—” He stops as ice creeps beneath him and spreads up to his waist. He felt like he’d been plunged completely tied into a frozen bath, unable to move.

“I said don’t move.” And Midoriya sees Endeavor in his glower, his towering stance and his words spoken with such imperiousness, and his neck stings. “So it is you.”

Midoriya’s lips curl in a crooked smile. “Was it so hard to believe?”

He shakes his head, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. “It’s over.”

Todoroki’s voice was whispered, barely audible to even the most trained ear, but the fatal words course through Midoriya’s thrumming bones. If he possessed the motion of his limbs, he would’ve curled his hands into fists. He doesn’t dare looking up, preferring to smile at how low he fell.

“You know I was right, Todoroki-kun. You know they deserved it and if it wasn’t me, then it would’ve been someone else.”

“You killed people and destroyed lives. How can you expect me to agree with your method?”

Midoriya snickers, shaking his head. They never understand. Sending people in jail can never be enough of a threat since jails can be broken, people can be corrupted and the law system, flawed. Incarcerating Pro Heroes consists of giving them a second chance since they can hope of walking out of the four walls bounding them. Death, however, is eternal and the only capable judge.

And right here, right now, Midoriya’s stuck with one foot in jail and the other in a coffin.

“If you want me to say I’m sorry then I will.”

“I don’t need an apology. You should’ve thought about the lives you’d ruin before killing the ones they care for.”

Todoroki’s jab makes his cheeks burn in shame but he refuses to let this sentiment overcome him. He doesn’t regret what he did. He can’t, not after spending so many hours selecting and orchestrating the murders, or else he would go mad.

“Justice was rendered, that’s all that matters. Now go on,” he taunts, finding the strength to stare at Todoroki as he licks his bloodied lips “Do it.”

“Do you,” and if Midoriya knew better he would say Todoroki’s breath hitched, “prefer fire or ice?”

“As you wish.”

Todoroki sighs through his nose, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t move and neither fire nor ice menaces to burst from either of his palms.

“Do it,” Midoriya rasps, his breathing coming in short pants. “Isn’t that what you want? Bringing the Judge’s head to the Police Force and flaunting it in front of Endeavor, so people see you as something more than his son?”

Todoroki’s jaw clenches and he hisses through gritted teeth, “Do you want to die?”

“Not particularly, but if I have to then I’d be glad to receive my coup de grace by your hand.”

Todoroki closes his eyes and unleashes his Quirk. Midoriya watches in awe as his right side freezes, a thin layer of frost spreading from Todoroki’s fingertips and creeping up to his elbow, while his left side bursts with flames. While the two elements usually negate each other, they don’t clash as Todoroki keeps them balanced, mastering them.

“You’re beautiful,” Midoriya gasps. Todoroki’s bathed in two hues, the fiery orange glow making his eyes dance and the poised blue aura shimmering around him like a cape. “Beautiful.”

And as abruptly as they came, the fire and ice vanish. Midoriya blinks, clearing off the dust falling in his eyes, but the scene doesn’t change. The awaited fatal strike doesn’t come. Todoroki stands before him with trembling hands, head bowed with the rain falling relentlessly on his drooping back.

“Why did you stop?”

The curiosity is genuine, for Midoriya was convinced the ice would stab his lungs and rob him of his air, pierce his eye sockets with the sharpest of edges and freeze his legs to hold him where he is. The fire would ravage his face and erase his features as well as devour his skin until nothing remains but bones. And Todoroki’s eyes wouldn’t waver as they’d watch the show, impassible.

Instead he’s facing the picture of defeat and while he’s relieved he’s been graced with more time alive, he can’t say he’s not disappointed. Dying by Todoroki’s hands doesn’t sound like such a tragedy.

“You’re a Pro Hero,” Midoriya reminds him since Todoroki remains immobile. “Do your job.”

“Whatever happens to you, I’ll lose. If I kill you, I’ll be arrested as the Judge but your agents will resume killing after I’ve been taken out. If I don’t kill you, then you’ll continue sending your agents while I’ll be on the run.”

“Fantastic deduction, Todoroki-kun. Now, what’s it gonna be?”

“If I have to choose between life and death, life is always the solution,” he answers with a sense of finality, of certainty that irks Midoriya. While melting Midoriya’s icy cage, he creates a dagger made of ice in his hand and aims it at Midoriya’s jugular yet doesn’t stab him. “Get up.”

“If I make one step in your direction I could impale myself and bleed out.”

“But you won’t,” Todoroki evenly replies without skipping a beat. “You’re too scared of death.”

Midoriya leans in until the cold kiss of the blade flutters against his neck, drawing pearls of blood, smirking, “Am I?”

Todoroki doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he presses the dagger even deeper in his skin. “But you would die in vain. I’ll just tell Tsukauchi you killed yourself and I’ll be judged innocent.”

In a way, Midoriya supposes, Todoroki is innocent in this mess.

Midoriya ends up drawing back, his jaw clenched. Todoroki removes the blade from his neck but doesn’t pocket it, much to Midoriya’s thrill. As virtuous as the Hero is, he doesn’t hesitate to resort to menaces and to use his own methods to uncover the truth. If he acted reluctant to cut Midoriya to pieces, it would be expected albeit, well, utterly disappointing.

But there’s a question burning his lips. “Why did you save me?”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?” He counters.

“That’s not answering my question.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Midoriya.”

And he doesn’t, really, so did he save me?

“Ah, I see,” he mumbles. “You’re going to hand me over to Tsukauchi.”

“I’m not bringing you to him since I’m not done with you.”

Midoriya lets out a low whistle. “So what? You’re kidnapping me now?”

“It may be so.” Midoriya opens his mouth to laugh when Todoroki clasps a firm hand over his parted lips, glowering. “You find this funny?”

Midoriya’s eyes gleam with mischief, very much answering the Hero’s question. Todoroki clicks his tongue and straightens, but still holds his blade of ice close to Midoriya’s bruising neck, red marks representing Endeavor’s fingers blooming like a collar.

“Does it hurt?” Todoroki asks, and Midoriya takes a second to understand the question is sincere.

“It does.”

It’s the truth. Midoriya’s never been strangled before and it’s not something he would enjoy occurring again. He cranes his neck as he remembers the grip tightening while he was swung around, his efforts to free himself rendered useless.

In front of him, Todoroki kneels to his level with one hand outstretched. “Do you trust me?” Midoriya nods, not sure what to expect, but he scrambles away as Todoroki’s hand close around his neck. Instead of lashing out, the Hero sighs and raises his hand in the air. “I’m just going to use my Quirk to cool it down. Will you let me do it?”

If Midoriya has to be branded by a Todoroki, it better be the son.

He lets Todoroki sit in front of him, their knees bumping, as his hand curls around his neck. Instead of thorns pricking his skin, Todoroki’s touch is cold water flowing from his fingertips and soothing the ache. At times the connection breaks, as if Todoroki’s afraid that Midoriya will edge away again, testing the limit and setting it at the same time.

“You’re not resisting much for an abductee,” the Hero notes.

“I’m infinitely curious to see what the good Hero has in store for the bad Judge.”

Todoroki averts his eyes and Midoriya has to strain his ears to hear his next words. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

The cool touch is gone with Todoroki’s hand and Midoriya also misses the sensation. He shudders, massaging the tender skin although it doesn’t hurt as much as before.

“But what are you going to do with me exactly?”

Todoroki shrugs, admitting in a low chuckle, “I really have no idea.” 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Weakened

“Anything that you cannot sacrifice pins you. Makes you predictable, makes you weak.” 

― Mark Lawrence, Prince of Thorns

Todoroki left him, in the end, after tying him to a pillar in the middle of this barren warehouse, without telling him when he’d come back.

If he’d come back.

Perhaps it was the Hero’s way of dealing with him: let him freeze until not even his Quirk can melt the ice covering his body.

To pass time, Midoriya began counting. At two hundred seventy-eight, the tip of his nose was so cold he wondered if his nostrils were frozen. At five hundred twenty-six, he had trouble flexing both his fingers and his feet. At seven hundred ninety-nine, he was convinced his ears had fallen off. At two thousand eight hundred and two, he wondered what would be more painful between dying from the cold or facing his mother’s stricken face as she learns her son was the Judge. At five thousand nine, daylight yielded to the night and he couldn’t see a thing ahead of him.

When he reached one billion, he stopped believing Todoroki would come back.

The Hero left him a wool blanket, as if he had thought of everything before intervening during the Judge’s operation, but Midoriya had kicked it away out of spite. It laid a few feet away, covered by a thin layer of frost.

He would’ve smacked his head against a wall because of his stupidity if he could’ve.

His body is seized with shivers. Thirst is scorching his throat. Each time he swallows feels like ingesting broken glass. He clenches his teeth to stop them from clattering but it hurts his jaw to keep it grounded. He rubs his hands together as a desperate way to create heat, blowing in them but even his breath is cool and makes his attempts fruitless. The warmth he seeks avoids him.

He startles when two hands grasp his, so hot that the slightest graze makes him start, and light shines in the warehouse, blinding him.

“Ah, look at you.” Midoriya blinks wearily, his hazy vision narrowing down to a clash of white and red hair, and two eyes of different colours gazing down at their locked hands. Midoriya follows his gaze, knowing it can’t be a hallucination because his touch is too real to be invented. “I gave you a blanket to keep you warm. Why did you throw it away?”

Midoriya chews his lower lip, tearing his gaze away. Todoroki doesn’t berate him, rather sighing and leaving his side briefly to pick up the discarded blanket. He warms it in seconds using his Quirk, then spreads it over Midoriya. The latter hums in content, snuggling in his newfound warmth.

“See? It’s better that way,” Todoroki nods as he pats Midoriya’s shoulder. “Don’t throw it again.”

It’s hard to be angry at someone who gave him what he refused to admit he needed. If anything, Midoriya’s irritated at his own weakness.

“You’re... back?” He croaks, sinking under the blanket until it covers his nose.

“Yes. I wanted to clear some things.”

“Did it work?” Not that Midoriya cares, but it’s not like there’s something else to distract him from the cold.

“Not really.” Todoroki shrugs before settling down next to Midoriya. “Scoot over.”

Midoriya doesn’t have to, for Todoroki slides under the blanket with him, pulling a bit to be sheltered as well. He wonders if the Hero sat with his left side close to him deliberately, but he now gained a personal heater on top of his blanket.

“What are you doing?” He inquires because he has to, or else wouldn’t it be too weird if he accepts Todoroki’s presence beside him without being wary?

“I’m sitting beside you.”

Sitting is a generous word; he’s rather slumped beside him. As if to prove his point, Todoroki sinks deeper under the blanket, mirroring Midoriya by burying his nose under the wool. Their elbows bump as he settles down, Midoriya jolting at the sudden touch, but with Todoroki’s new position their arms are rubbing against each other. He swallows as he looks away from the Hero, fighting against the urge to squirm away.

“Aren’t you supposed to arrest me?”

A cloud passes on Todoroki’s face. “I’m supposed to, yes, but I’m officially been branded as the Judge’s accomplice.”

“You...?”

Todoroki nods, his long sigh emptying his lungs. Without a warning, his head oscillates from left to right like a pendulum before it nestles on Midoriya’s shoulder. Midoriya stiffens but doesn’t push away the Hero’s head, bearing the sudden proximity in silence.

“You’re my prisoner and I’m your accomplice. What a pair we make.”

“We’re not a pair.”

“I thought we were a pair. Partners.”

“Partners?” Midoriya snorts. “Partners of what? We were working together in the Police Force because Tsukauchi forced us to. It’s not like we had a solid partnership.”

“Yes, we had. Remember Medusa?”

The image of a blooming cactus pops instantly in his mind, but Midoriya sweeps it away with a shake of his head. “It’s surely dead now. We didn’t take care of it very much.”

“I’m sure Tamakawa will adopt her.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes, throwing him a deadpan glance sideways. “It. It’s a cactus.”

“Her. You named her.”

He doesn’t answer back, preferring to simmer with irritation, but it’s hard to remain irritated over a cactus’ denomination with the Hero at such a short distance. His head is turned away from Todoroki, but his shoulder tingles each time the Hero shifts, when Todoroki’s nose nudge his collarbone or when his ear brush his curls. His breathing warms Midoriya’s skin, coming out in long and deep sighs, and Midoriya’s own respiration copies his rhythm.

“What else did he do?”

Todoroki straightens and Midoriya shivers, the cold air assaulting his shoulder where his head used to be. Even if he’s still looking away, Todoroki’s eyes are like two heavy weights crushing him.

“Are you talking about Endeavor?”

“Endeavor’s the only one who could’ve said you were working with me.”

“With the Judge,” Todoroki rectifies.

“Yes, that’s what I said. With me.”

“But you’re not the Judge.”

Midoriya scoffs, daring to face him. “What are you talking about?”

Todoroki meets his mocking gaze with a levelled one. “The Judge is an idea and an idea doesn’t have a definite face. Now it’s time for someone else to get the title.”

If not tied to the pillar, Midoriya would’ve backed away or punched Todoroki. He tests his restraints, feeling the rope digging into his skin, perhaps deep enough to draw blood. Todoroki must’ve felt the shift in the atmosphere, the temperature in the warehouse dropping below the ten degrees and not only because the night was gaining ground, the light above them flickering not only because of the wind drifting through, the distance between them that was comforting and almost intimate becoming more ominous... But instead of moving away, he edges closer and puts one grounding hand on Midoriya’s shoulder.

“The Judge is not who you are, Midoriya. It’s just a thought that you were so obsessed with that you decided to make it reality, so you became this thought. But it’s not you.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, his fists curling.

“I told you before that you have two faces. One is real and one is fake but you forgot which is which. I can tell after all this time spent with you that the Judge isn’t the real one.”

“Shut up!” Midoriya yells, writhing against the bonds. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand everything and no one can, but I do understand the pain, the loneliness and the feeling of never being enough.”

“You know nothing about me!”

“That’s not true.”

Midoriya freezes. Todoroki’s voice wasn’t exactly a shout but it was above his usual volume. He was sitting straight against, half turned away from Midoriya as if ready to bolt towards the exit. His eyes are narrowed down as they pin him down like a butterfly under glass.

“You think I know nothing?” His voice cracks and Midoriya’s breath hitches. They stare at each other in complete stillness, the rise and fall of their chest as they draw air pausing for seconds. “I’ve seen you, Midoriya. I’ve seen all of you.”

He can’t answer to that, not vocally. He doesn’t want to answer because it might prompt Todoroki to continue, but his silence might give the same result. He doesn’t know what Todoroki will reveal about him that he tried to forget, that he tried to deny, that he tried to hide from everyone and most of all from himself.

“I’ve seen your fake smiles and your real tears. I’ve seen you obeying to Tsukauchi when you were really seething inside. I’ve seen you pretending to be harmless and to know nothing about the murders when you’re the one we’ve been searching for all this time. I’ve seen you trying so hard to become the ruthless Judge you dream of but failing because you’re being you.”

What’s worse is that there’s nothing Todoroki just said that is wrong. As much as Midoriya would like to look away from him, his eyes are magnets drawn to his face like his soul is drawn to his entire being and unable to pull away. It’s been like that since the first time they met, Midoriya realises, or maybe since the very first time he heard Todoroki’s husky voice answering the phone.

“If you don’t remember who you are, then I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“I don’t want to remember.”

The words slip out of his mouth in a pitiful cry that he wishes he could swallow back immediately, but he doesn’t have the Quirk to turn back time. He doesn’t have a Quirk, period, and that makes him sniffle and his eyes sting.

“I am the Judge,” he declares, his breath shuddering. “I killed three people and I will kill a fourth.”

Todoroki creeps even closer but his voice lowers. “Stop, Midoriya.” One hand hovers above his scalp, skimming through his hair so lightly it can be mistaken for a breeze. “No more lies.”

“I am the Judge,” he repeats, stubborn, or maybe stupid, he’s not sure anymore, but he repeats it nonetheless. “I killed three people and I will kill a fourth.”

And Todoroki repeats himself as well, “Stop,” he says, and he’s so close Midoriya doesn’t see the ground anymore but Todoroki’s knees sticking together, folded under his body. His hand is more present this time, tugging at some locks with enough strength to make itself known but without hurting him. “No more lies.”

“But I’m...”

Todoroki adds more pressure as he ruffles his hair, his other hand sneaking behind Midoriya and looping in his back. With the slightest push, like one blowing a candle or another placing the ultimate card on a castle made of cards, he tilts Midoriya forward into his arms. The descent is slow, almost agonisingly so, but Todoroki guides him without loosening his grip. He’s his anchor, drowning Midoriya along with him and they sink underwater with no sound. It’s not until he’s fully in Todoroki’s embrace that he realises the rope around him is a mere souvenir except for the red marks around his skin.

“No more lies,” he murmurs, and Todoroki hums in approval.

They’re plunging deeper and he wishes they will never be pulled back from the dream to reality.

But it’s impossible to breathe underwater.

Todoroki doesn’t leave, this time.

They remain together in the warehouse. Todoroki warms the blanket using his Quirk, but it isn’t necessary since their body heat envelops both of them.

It’s the first time Midoriya sees Todoroki sleeping, or perhaps he’s feigning to sleep, no one can truly know, but if he’s faking then he’s an excellent actor, better than Midoriya can ever dream to be. He almost asks him if he’s sleeping but his lips are sealed as he contemplates him. Todoroki sleeping is like watching a lake, sprawled on a grassy knoll and being mesmerised by the stillness of the water as much as by the depts it conceals.

Midoriya holds a tentative hand above Todoroki’s head, as if trying to peer below the water’s surface without creating a ripple that would alert him of his presence. There’s a balance he doesn’t dare to break, and the shyest dip can shatter the illusion, thus he makes no more. As the sun dawns outside and reveals things that couldn’t be observed before, Midoriya begins to distinguish his reflection in Todoroki much clearer now.

When light floods the entire warehouse, Todoroki twitches, frowning before his eyes flutter open. Sleep has cast a haze over them, but after blinking repeatedly the grogginess clears. Midoriya smiles as Todoroki stares at him, his lips parted.

“You’re still here?”

He chuckles, “Why would I leave? You’re my accomplice, right?”

Todoroki opens his mouth then closes it, eyes gleaming with a new light. He turns away and Midoriya wonders if he said something wrong, if he’ll receive another speech on the Judge’s identity.

“Todoroki-kun, are you alright? Did I...?”

He falters when he notices Todoroki’s shoulders shaking. His mind spins as he searches for the right words to apologise when he’s interrupted by a discreet snicker. When the Hero faces him again, his face’s crinkled up in a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “I must be tired.”

“Don’t be sorry for having emotions, silly.”

The comment sounds inoffensive but Todoroki’s smile droops. As aloof as he may seem, Midoriya knows emotions can overwhelm him like no other since he’s so used to suppressing them. Once he feels, Todoroki’s entire soul will be in tune with his emotions.

Midoriya folds his legs, his head tilting to the left. “Now what?”

“Now we move.”

“Move?” He repeats, startled. Todoroki is already rising, stretching his back and rubbing the back of his neck with a slight grimace. “Where do you want us to go?”

He shivers when the Hero removes the blanket he wrapped around himself and buries it in a backpack. If Midoriya knew any better, he would’ve thought the backpack just materialised itself but he assumes it was hidden from his sight before.

“Put this on.”