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Chapter Text

Another pointless goddamn meeting. When he’d been recruited by Endeavor’s agency Katsuki thought he’d be working with the best of the best, but it turned out the old man was starting to lose his marbles.  

“Like Stain, he seems to fancy himself something of a vigilante,” Endeavor was saying. “Though he specifically targets career criminals. He is capitalizing on media attention by…” 

Why the hell was Endeavor hounding the police about crime scenes and serial killers? That was detective work. Heroes were supposed to be about action. Let the police worry about the investigation. It was common fucking sense. It was their job. Who gives a shit about a string of dead bodies? Poor fuckers were already dead. 

“... an ice related work. Though he’s adding some kind of chemical to keep it from melting.” Endeavor pulled up photos of three different bodies, all positioned on their knees with their hands clasped together and their heads bowed. A classic please forgive me pose.

Some idiot next to him had snickered at the mention of an ice quirk and was making jabs at Icy Hot under his breath. Goddammit, maybe he should have gone with Fat Gum’s agency after all. This place was full of losers.

Katsuki was quickly losing patience. 

“A witness spotted a man wearing a helmet with bunny ears,” Endeavor said. The flare in his beard gave away how much that little fact seemed to pain him. “Otherwise he had no distinguishing features…” 

It was bad enough that Endeavor was constantly wasting their time. But the petty squabbles among his peers was slowly driving him over the edge. They were constantly fussing over petty shit. Complaining about Cold Flare getting favoritism because he was Endeavor’s son: nepotism over merit, they said.

But then the dumb fucks would turn around and say that graduating head of his class at U.A. was a two bit accomplishment. That it was unfair to be judged by grades or what school you went to. What the fuck did they want to be judged by then?! Costume design? Idiots, the lot of them. 

“... during your patrols. Just keep it in mind,” Endeavor said. “Otherwise we’ll leave it to Ground Zero and Cold Flare.” 

Katsuki had been slouched in his chair with his legs folded into a pretzel. Hearing his hero name he straightened up and dropped his legs to the floor with a decisive thump.

“Ha?” 

“You two will be collaborating with the police on this,” Endeavor said. He met Katsuki’s glare head on. “Should be easy for heroes of your caliber.” 

“That’s the problem,” Katsuki growled. “Give it to one of the extras-”

“There’s nothing to collaborate,” Todoroki said. “The witness has already given us all that could be gleaned, their list of suspects is too large, and the connection between victims tenuous.” 

Endeavor’s flame was slowly growing as his son spoke, sizzling with angry pops and nearly singeing the bulletin board behind him. But he said nothing.

“Let the police narrow it down first,” Todoroki continued. “I’ll gladly interview suspects or witnesses when they have a solid grasp of the situation. Until then there are more pressing matters that I, and Ground Zero, should attend to.” 

“This meeting is adjourned,” Endeavor said. “Cold Flare, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed.” 

Time for another father son spat, Katsuki supposed. That was fine and dandy, but he needed to know where the hell he stood on this stupid case.

“Sir-” 

“You’re late for patrol, Ground Zero.” 

Who’s fucking fault was that?! As he stomped out of the conference room Katsuki shoved his fists under his armpits. It was all he could do to stop himself from exploding in Endeavor’s fucking face. Or tearing a new one into his coworkers, who snickered as he went.

What he wouldn’t give to be at Fat Gum’s agency with Shitty Hair. But transferring now would be an admittance of defeat.  

And Ground Zero does not lose. 

He underestimated this villain's metabolism. The sedative made his escape clumsy and his quirk ineffective at outrunning his executioner. Still, the fact of the matter was: Izuku messed up. 

Now there was a broken window in the man’s apartment and an unconscious body sprawled out in a random alleyway. Because the sedative did knock the villain out, eventually. But now, how to carry him back? Despite the handicap, the speed quirk got him far.

The jet propulsion in his boots and gloves only had the strength to carry his own weight. Even if they could lift more it would be impossible to steer while holding someone. If he stashed the villain in a dumpster somewhere and left for better tools he’d probably wake up before Izuku got back. 

It was a predicament. 

“Need some help?”

The blast left a charred hole of crumbling bricks beside Stain’s head. The man did not flinch. Instead, he chuckled. “You missed.”

“It was a warning shot,” Izuku said. “Now leave before I knock you out.” 

“Knock me out?” Stain said. “You won’t kill me?” 

Izuku sighed, glancing between tonight’s target and the infamous hero killer.

“One kill at a time work better for you, hmm?” 

“Yes.” Izuku regarded Stain for a moment, taking in his relaxed stance and shit eating grin. Then he gave Stain the villain's address. “Carry him and I’ll meet you there.” 

Stain gave him a mocking salute, hefting the man over his shoulder. 

Izuku didn’t bother to question his motives. He understood professional curiosity. For tonight, at least, they would be allies. 

He arrived first and patched the window with cardboard. It would do well enough to give them privacy. Then he busied himself with the photos of the villain's victims, laying them out in a wide circle. When Stain showed up Izuku pointed and the body was laid out in the center. 

Normally Izuku liked having a talk with his victims before he injected the poison. But with an audience present he decided to forgo that part of his ritual. It’s not like anyone would know the difference. 

Stain watched, standing by the door with his hands politely clasped behind his back. But Izuku knew the man was tense, his fingers twitching by the handles of his katanas.

He whistled when Izuku froze the man into position. 

“Those gloves got more than lasers in them, I see,” Stain said. 

Izuku clapped his hands together as he straightened up. “Well! It’s been a pleasure working with you. Now if you’ll excuse me…” 

He tried to dodge the blade, but Stain was too fast. He nicked Izuku’s neck. Still, Izuku managed to coat the weapon in frost before he could lick the blood.

“So you know how my quirk works,” Stain said. He glared at his hand, which was stuck to the katana’s handle. “Aren’t you a sticky one.” 

“I’ve done my research,” Izuku said. 

“And what of the heroes? You research them too?” 

“Of course.” Izuku sighed. Stain was blocking the door. “Are you going to make me jump out the window?” 

“Just wanted to have a chat.” 

“We’ve chatted enough for one night,” Izuku said. He coated the katana still strapped to Stain’s belt in the same frost, noticing the man’s fingers twitching. “That’ll melt in a few hours.” 

“You’ve never thought about applying your skills against the heroes?” 

“I have.” In fact the first person Izuku ever thought about killing had been a hero. The day All Might died and the new Number 1 stumbled into place. 

But he didn’t have the strength.

“We’d make a good team,” Stain said. “Ever think about that?” 

“Found a target out of your reach?” 

“Yes. But I’ve seen you fly with those boots of yours.” Stain stuck his ridiculous tongue out and waggled his eyebrows. “And I’m better at immobilizing my prey.”

Despite himself Izuku bit his lip, tempted after tonight’s miscalculation. “Who do you have in mind?” 

“Uravity.” 

Izuku scowled and froze Stain’s feet to the ground. “Hey!” 

“You are not killing Uravity.” He adjusted the dial on his gloves, adding the chemical compound that would prevent the ice from melting. “There’s nothing more for us to discuss.”

“These heroes are selfish!” Stain said. “All they care about is money-”

“Providing for your family is the purest and most selfless thing a person can do,” Izuku said. “Your logic is twisted.” 

He covered Stain’s entire body in ice now, only leaving his head exposed. “Then you’ll kill me?” Stain did not look afraid. “It’s what you do best, eh, Kira?” 

“I hate that name,” Izuku said. “Call me Deku.” 

He found the original victim's cell phone in his bedroom. Calling the police is a simple matter when you’ve got a voice modulator built into your helmet.

“There’s been an attempted murder,” he said. “Come quickly, he might not survive.”

Chapter Text

He was not looking forward to work today. Then again, Shouto never looked forward to work. So he dressed with his usual speed, drank a liquid supplement for breakfast, and was more than willing to rush to his fate.

Fuyumi blocked him at the door. “Let me re-apply the burn cream.” 

“It’s fine,” Shouto said. If he was late for the interrogation he’d just end up with more burns for her to deal with. 

She held her ground. “It’s not fine. They’ll get infected.” 

Their father walked into the foyer and they both stiffened. “Let her do it,” Father said. “Infections are an unnecessary impediment.” 

Frowning at Fuyumi, he added, “But be quick about it.” 

“Yes, father.” 

When he’d left they were able to relax. Shouto took his shirt off and sat down, allowing his sister to undo his bandages and apply the cream.

“Is something happening today?” she said, gently smoothing into the affected areas.

“Stain is in police custody.” 

“That’s great!” Fuyumi said. “The Hero Killer, that’s a big one. Which heroes caught him?” 

“Apparently he was a Kira victim,” Shouto said. “He survived somehow.” 

“Oh my,” she said. But she knew better than to dawdle. In no time Fuyumi had re-wrapped his bandages and Shouto was able to put his shirt back on. 

“Have a good day,” Fuyumi said. “Don’t pick any more fights, okay?” 

She meant with their father, of course. Because this is where that got him.

“I’ll do my best,” he said. 

But he was losing patience. He didn’t know how much longer he could live like this. The only reason he stuck around at all was for her. Why couldn’t they leave together?

Shouto would bring it up again. Soon. 

But first he had a serial killer to interrogate

“Tell me, heroes. Is the death penalty really that diff-”

“I don’t have time to argue philosophy, asshole!” Bakugo bared his teeth as he leaned over the table to get in Stain’s face. The villain tried to take advantage as the idiot inched closer to where his hands were chained in place.

Shouto froze them. 

“I have no reason to cooperate,” Stain said, hissing at the cold. “As far as I’m concerned, Kira is doing good work-”

“He left you alive on purpose, then?” Shouto said. He noted the way the villain’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise he gave nothing away and chose not to respond.

Bakugo slammed a fist down on Stain’s frozen hands, breaking the ice apart with the impact. Shouto admired the way he implemented just one tiny little explosion to get it to crack apart without damaging the man’s hands.

His father had never been capable of that sort of finesse. Intimidation without injury.

“He asked you a question, dickwad.” More tiny explosions. Bakugo held a hand near Stain’s face, close enough for him to feel the heat. But it was an empty threat.

“When Kira wants someone dead, they die.” Stain smirked. “Simple as that.” 

“Doesn’t it bother you that he threw you to the wolves?” Bakugo said. “He left you gift wrapped. You gonna let that go? You gonna help him?”  

Again Stain did not reply.

“We already know he wears a helmet with rabbit ears,” Shouto said. “He uses chemicals and an ice quirk to kill his victims-”

Stain giggled. 

“What’s so fucking funny?!” Bakugo said. 

“I almost forgot,” Stain said. “He doesn’t like his name.” 

“Alright,” Shouto said. “It’s a nickname the media came up with. Did he give you a different name?” 

“Deku.” 

“Like a puppet?” Puzzled over the random word, Shouto glanced at Bakugo to ask for an opinion, but the expression on the man’s face stopped him in his tracks.

He was ashen. As if someone had just killed a dog in front of him. 

“You’re a filthy fucking liar,” Bakugo murmured. “Who the fuck would want to be called that?”

It was strange, to hear him speak so quietly. But he had a point. The literal word meant puppet, or wooden doll, but Shouto recalled it’s more modern meaning. Someone who is boring? Or a useless person. 

“I don’t know his reasoning,” Stain said. “But that’s the name he prefers.”

Bakugo slammed the villain’s head into the table so hard the man’s nose was crushed. Shouto flinched at the impact. There was only a small trickle of blood from Stain’s nose.

“What does he look like ,” Bakugo hissed. “Describe him!” 

Stain spat in his face and Bakugo roared. “DESCRIBE HIM!”

Shouto wondered whether or not he should intervene. 

“He’s average,” Stain said. “Average height, average build, nothing stands out besides the helmet.” 

“What was he wearing. ” The vein popping on Bakugo’s forehead was familiar. Though Shouto hadn’t seen him lose control like this since they were in high school.   

“A black turtleneck, black pants, he was just wearing black!”

“There had to be more than that,” Bakugo said. “Did you see his face? Freckles? What color are his eyes?” He still had a firm hold on the back of Stain’s head, he released another little pop from his quirk. 

Shouto smelt burnt skin and Stain groaned. “I didn’t see his face!”

He pulled Bakugo back. Unexpectedly, Bakugo allowed it. When Shouto let go he spun away and punched a wall, cursing. Ground Zero was not like Endeavor. Though they were often compared, this kind of behavior… it was unusual for him. Shouto liked to think he regretted it.

“Did he have any distinctive weapons?” Shouto said. “The chemical, did you see him use it?” 

Stain scowled.

With a sigh Shouto grabbed a bottle of burn cream from his utility belt. He knocked on the door to the room and asked an officer to bring a wash cloth and bandages.   

They waited for the man to come back in silence. Bakugo paced and Stain tracked him with his eyes, glaring. 

Shouto tried not to fidget. 

Then, when the officer returned Shouto wiped at the blood on Stain’s face. There wasn’t much he could do for the man’s nose, he’d need to be seen by a professional, but Shouto cleaned the burn and treated it with the cream. He thought of Fuyumi. How many times had she done this? How many more times would she have to? 

“He’s got gloves,” Stain muttered. 

“Alright,” Shouto said. “They match his helmet?” 

“Yeah. Dark green. The helmet, the gloves,” Stain sighed. “He had a green belt too. Boots. They’re really bulky, those boots and gloves.”

“Thank you,” Shouto said.  

Stain huffed. 

They walked back to the agency in silence. But in the elevator Shouto couldn’t help himself. “What did he do to piss you off?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Bakugo said. He kept his chin up and glared at the ceiling.

“You asked him if Kira has freckles,” Shouto said. “Did you have someone in mind?”

Bakugo shook his head. “It was stupid.” 

“But-”

“That bastard was giggling at us.” When they reached their floor Bakugo made no move to get off the elevator. The doors opened and then closed. The elevator would not move until someone called it.

Shouto moved to press the Open Doors button, but Bakugo grabbed his wrist. “What did you say that made him laugh? You were listing facts, right?”

“I was talking about the chemicals? But I didn’t get into detail.”

“No, something else.” 

“The ice quirk.” 

“The fucking ice quirk!” And just like that Bakugo slammed into the Open Doors button. He stormed out of the elevator. 

With a sigh Shouto followed.

“That fucker knows something we don’t,” Bakugo said. “It’s about the ice quirk. I bet we got it wrong. Kira doesn’t have an ice quirk at all.” 

Then, so low Shouto almost didn’t catch it, he said. “He could even be quirkless.”  

“That’s quite a leap.” 

“Fuck off.” Bakugo stomped towards the locker rooms. “Tell your daddy I’m clocking out early.” 

“But we have to write the report-” 

“I’ll do it from home.” 

Whatever. It’s not like Shouto was his babysitter. They went their separate ways and Shouto was more than happy to be alone with his thoughts.

Alone with his plans. 

Because he would get out of here someday. And take Fuyumi with him.

Chapter Text

Mrs. Midoriya was surprised to see him. Katsuki couldn’t really blame her. The only time they typically saw each other was, well, birthdays and family gatherings. She was practically his aunt, though they weren’t actually related. 

And they weren’t neighbors anymore. His parents still lived in the same house he’d been raised in, but Midoriya Inko had downsized to a simple one bedroom condo. He’d never been over before, but it was easy enough to get the address from his mom. 

She invited him in and gave him a cup of tea. “How are you, Katsuki? Everything alright?”

“I’m good, Auntie.” Bakugo stared down at his cup, then made a show of drinking it. “I just wanted… um, to see how you were doing.”  

“I’m doing great,” she said. “It’s a bit lonely, being here by myself, but Izuku visits me very often. We have dinner on Fridays.”

Shit, what day was it? He looked at his phone. Thursday.

“Does he have stuff here?” That was a smooth transition, right? She brought Deku up first. God, he was such an asshole. Maybe he should visit her more often too. Without other motives. 

“He has a toothbrush, if that’s what you mean.” Mrs. Midoriya gave an awkward little laugh. “Though he never needs it, these days. I keep an extra futon anyway.” 

“What about his childhood stuff?” Katsuki said. “Like his old school things? Yearbooks, notebooks…” 

God fucking dammit, how the hell do you ask for what you need without being obvious? This is why he didn’t sign up to be a fucking detective. It was easier to just punch someone in the face.   

“Oh my, are you feeling nostalgic?” She giggled.

“There’s a reunion coming up,” he said. “It’s a high school reunion, but I thought it would be, uh, funny to show my classmates pictures of me from middle school.” 

“Did Mitsuki accidentally give your middle school yearbook away in that garage sale of hers?”  Mrs. Midoriya tsked. “I bet some fan is fawning over it right about now. Or maybe they re-sold it at one of those conventions. Izuku buys nonsense like that all the time.” 

“Does he?” Katsuki did his best to look as casually interested as possible. “He keep any of that stuff here?” 

Then again, Kira wasn’t like Stain. But Katsuki was grasping at straws in the first place. He’d take anything of Deku’s that he could get his hands on. He needed proof that he was wrong. Proof that it was all just a coincidence. It was just a name, after all. Just one word.

“Oh no, dear, his collection is with him. It’s very important to him.” 

“Right, of course.” 

“But there are a lot of older things that he left behind with me when he first moved out on his own.” She got up and led Katsuki to a hatch on the ceiling. “Before I left the neighborhood I left it all as it was, in his bedroom. But I had to pack it up, of course.” 

“It’s all in the attic?” 

“Yes, all the things he didn’t want to keep,” Mrs. Midoriya said. “He told me I could throw it, but it just seemed too sad to me. Especially those notebooks! All his ideas. His dreams.” 

He smiled. “Mind if I look through them?” 

“Help yourself. But I’m afraid I have no idea which box I put the yearbooks in.” 

“That’s alright.” 

In fact, it was perfect. He could look through everything and pretend the yearbook was in the very last box. And when he finally found the drawing he remembered, the one Deku had sketched of his stupid fantasy hero costume, he could easily rip the page out and tuck it into the yearbook. 

Then he’d show it to Stain. He’d visit him alone this time. And then he’d know for sure if he was right or wrong from Stain’s reaction. Wouldn’t he? Or was this a fool’s errand? 

Either way, Katsuki needed to see that drawing. He’d go crazy otherwise. 

“Where did you get it?” Todoroki said. 

The bastard was notified when Katsuki put in the request for a second interview with Stain. He wouldn’t leave well enough alone and finally Katsuki had to tell him about the sketch. But he couldn’t tell him how he got it.

Not only was it too embarrassing to discuss, but, well, if he was wrong, there was no point dragging Deku’s name through the mud now was there?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“We’re not showing it to Stain without confirming the source.”

“I confirmed it,” Katsuki said. “And anyway I wanted to talk to him alone. ”

“We were both assigned to this case.” Todoroki leaned into Katsuki’s personal space and lowered his voice. “Until we talked to Stain you didn’t give two shits about any of this. What changed?”

“Nothing changed , I’m just doing my fucking job.”

“Liar.” Todoroki stared at the drawing as if it held the secrets to the universe. “This was drawn by a child, but there were no witnesses in that age bracket…” 

Katsuki tried to push Todoroki back, but he was solid. Glancing down, he saw the bastard had frozen his own feet to the ground. 

“I just want us to be on the same page,” Todoroki murmured. “If it’s my father your worried about I don’t intend to report your new… evidence.” 

“Does it look like I give a shit what your old man thinks?” 

Todoroki stepped away. “Fine, don’t tell me. But you won’t be alone with Stain.”

He casually steamed the floor, which was a sodden mess, until all the water evaporated. It left the hallway feeling like a goddamn sauna and Katsuki was tempted to remove his shirt and throw it at the idiot. They could both be drama queens for all he cared.

Instead he stomped towards the interrogation room, knowing Half and Half would follow.

Stain laughed when he opened the door and almost earned himself a bitch slap, but today Katsuki would play it cool. He sat down and waited for the Ice Prince to tip toe in. 

Todoroki put the drawing on the table without preamble. Neither of them said anything as Stain looked at it incredulously. “Is that supposed to be a character sketch?!”

The man cackled. “The helmet is accurate enough. Helluva wanted poster though!” 

Abruptly snatching the drawing back, Katsuki stood up. 

“Baku- Ground Zero-” 

Then he left. 

This had been a stupid idea from the start.  

Chapter Text

Breaking in was the easy part. It always was, but even still Izuku’s hands were shaking. This was different than usual. 

For one thing he’d left his best equipment behind. Helmet, boots, gloves: his strongest tech. They were too recognizable now. Besides, he wasn’t here for a murder. 

The apartment was utilitarian. There were none of the grand floor to ceiling windows or designer furniture he’d come to expect from a successful pro hero. Though the location alone would cost a pretty penny and the space was way too big for someone living by themselves.

He wasn’t wearing a mask or anything. If Kacchan came home he didn’t want to be attacked as a burglar. He’d just pretend Mrs. Bakugo had given him a spare key. 

It was only fair. Kacchan had gone through his things using his mother’s kindness. Izuku was only returning the favor. 

And re-claiming his property.

It wasn’t about the yearbook, of course. He could care less about that, though he spotted it quickly enough. It was on the kitchen counter. He flipped through each page carefully, looking for what had been torn out of Hero Notebook #6. 

And it wasn’t about protecting his identity either. He knew Kira could not be identified based on a child’s doodle. Sure, there would be similarities, but not enough to hold up in court. Just enough to piss Kacchan off. The same way Izuku imagined hearing the name “Deku” come out of Stain’s mouth would have pissed him off. 

And what crazy luck that he got to hear it so soon! Endeavor had assigned Kacchan to the case so easily, so much sooner than Izuku could have expected. He thought it would be months before his activities were even a blimp on Kacchan’s radar. 

He wished he could have seen the interrogation. Stealing footage from the police station would be easy enough, he’d done so before, but Izuku knew now was the time to tread carefully. 

The yearbook had nothing between it’s pages. A careful look through Kacchan’s desk likewise did not have what Izuku was looking for. Though he did find something of interest, which he took a photo of for later use. 

He was just debating whether or not it was too risky to take a look through Kacchan’s closet when he heard the front door being unlocked. Whoops, he’d hoped to avoid a direct confrontation.

Yearbook clutched to his chest, he ran back to the kitchen and froze, waiting for Kacchan to spot him. 

He expected the usual explosion, but for once Kacchan was calm. He just stared and closed the front door behind him.

“Your mom lent me a spare key,” Izuku said. “I wanted this back.” 

He waved the yearbook in the air like a white flag. 

Still silent, Kacchan approached. He was dressed as a civilian and had a bag of groceries with him. He went about putting things away as if Izuku didn’t exist. 

“I’ll just go then…”

“What happened to your neck?” Kacchan said. He’d finished putting everything away.

There was a white square of gauze taped over Izuku’s neck, where Stain’s sword had nicked him in their little tussle. 

“I tried to pick up a wild cat,” Izuku said. “It looked malnourished and I wanted to help, but it was afraid of me.”

In a blink Kacchan had him pinned against the fridge and he ripped the bandage off. “That looks too thick to be from a cat,” he said. “Fess up.” 

“You want me to say it was a sword fight?” Izuku giggled. “It’s just a little scratch.” 

“The fuck are you doing, Deku?” The way Kacchan glared at him felt nostalgic, he hadn’t lost his temper like this since middle school. “Are you out of your mind?” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Kacchan.” 

But he did know. He knew that for the first time in years, for the first time since they were two children who could both scrape their knees or drown in a pond, Kacchan was looking at him as if Izuku could be a threat.

An equal. 

Kacchan shoved the drawing against Izuku’s chest. The one he’d been looking for, the one he’d been working toward all these years, in a way. Though it didn’t turn out the way he’d first thought. It was wrinkled, but whole. Izuku carefully tucked it into the yearbook.

Then Kacchan kicked Izuku’s legs out from under him and pinned him on his stomach, arms held together behind his back. 

“You can’t arrest me, Kacchan.”

“The hell I can’t.”

“For a drawing? It’s insubstantial.” He craned his neck to glare over his shoulder and winced when the movement pulled at the scab there.

“My mom doesn’t have a spare key to my apartment, asshole. ” Kacchan smirked. “I’ve got you on breaking and entering.” 

“Oh, well that’s fair.” 

Kacchan smacked him on the back of his head. It was eerily reminiscent of the way Mrs. Bakugo would discipline her son for being glib. “The fuck is wrong with you?” 

“You stole my stuff! I wanted it back.” 

Shoving a knee against Izuku’s neck, Kacchan growled “That’s not what I’m talking about and you fucking know it.”

“Anything I say can and will be used against me in the court of law,” Izuku wheezed. “I’m not an idiot.”

Kacchan removed his knee. “That might as well be a confession.” 

“It wouldn’t hold up in court-”

“I don’t care about what holds up in court, shitty Deku!” In an oddly childish display of frustration, Kacchan grabbed Izuku’s shoulders and shook him back and forth. “Do you know how fucked up this is? How fucked up you are? I don’t even believe it. Even if you straight up actually admitted to me, right here and now, that you’re a serial killer I still wouldn’t believe it.”

At that Izuku couldn’t help but burst into giggles. “Who said anything about being a serial killer?” 

Uncertainty flashed across Kacchan’s face and it only made Izuku laugh harder.  

Then Kacchan groaned and hoisted Izuku up by his arms, which Kacchan held together but couldn’t handcuff. He was a pro-hero not a police officer, he didn’t have handcuffs. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” 

The two of them awkwardly shuffled towards the door. 

Izuku wasn’t about to cooperate though. He let his knees bend so that Kacchan had to hold him up. “For the love of-” Kacchan hoisted Izuku over his shoulder, holding him in place with just one arm while he locked the door to his apartment behind them.

The hold was precarious enough that Izuku could wriggle his arms free, if he tried. He could pull on Kacchan’s ear, which he knew was a sensitive spot (he’d seen Mrs. Bakugo pull him around by the ear enough times) and simultaneously try to kick him in the groin. 

Kacchan would drop him if he did that. Though the hero was still stronger and definitely faster Izuku wasn’t completely unequipped. His shoes look like perfectly normal red tennis, but they were like heelys on steroids. Kick his heels together and he could speed off faster than Kacchan could run.

But there was no point in escaping. Izuku knew the police station like the back of his hand, though he had a spotless record. He’d be booked, fined, and released. 

Like many criminals before him and plenty after. It was a faulty system. 

So Izuku let Kacchan carry him to the police station. There was no harm in it.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Shouto resented above all else, it was being Endeavor's personal errand boy.

He'd just gotten off patrol when he was ordered to make a trip to the police station for the sketch artist's rendition of Kira. 

There was no clocking out when your boss followed you home. Or worse, beat you there.

So off to the station he went, like an automaton. And there, Shouto thought, was his real hero name. It had a certain ring to it.

Like Deku. A marionette? It had a significance that Shouto wasn't grasping. 

That was his train of thought as he walked into the station, and he might have followed it if not for Bakugo. 

The man was making a scene at the front desk. Not strange in and of itself, but he was dressed as a civilian. 

"What's going on?" Shouto said. 

Bakugo glared at him. "Nothing," he said. "The fuck are you doing here?" 

"I'm here for the Kira sketch." 

Bakugo seemed to pale, his face ironing out into a mimicry of nonchalance. It was startling, but also laughable. 

He was a terrible actor. "That shit's useless." 

"What?"

"It's trash. I threw it away."

"I don't mean the kiddie drawing," Shouto said. "The professional one. Done by a sketch artist who sat down with Stain." 

Bakugo barked a laugh so loud and short that Shouto flinched. "Ha! Right! A'course."  Then he turned to the unfortunate man he'd been arguing with. "Go get that." 

The officer (or was he a secretary?) seemed relieved at the excuse to hurry off.

"You're off the clock," Shouto said.

"No duh."

"So what are you doing here?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you." 

Another officer came into the room, escorting a civilian. "... or let your emotions get the better of you," the officer was saying. He spoke gently, as if he were lightly scolding a problematic teen. 

"You're right, of course. I'm so sorry for the trouble." The young man (was he a teenager? He could also be a college student) had a sweet voice. Apologetic, yet cheerful. Sheepish. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Bakugo said. 

The officer was an older man, probably in his 40s or 50s, and long used to men like Ground Zero. "Don't make a mountain out of a mole hill," he said.

"Breaking and entering isn't a fucking mole hill!" 

Shouto blinked at that. 

"Kacchan-"

"Shut up! Don't talk to me," Bakugo said. "Jesus Christ." 

Shouto felt as if he'd stepped into some kind of family drama. Bakugo stomped towards the exit and the young man ran after him. Then, in a whining tone (like that of a younger brother?) said, "Well, can't you give me a ride home? You brought me all the way out here-"

"You found your way into my apartment just fine!"

"I took a bus."

"Then find another bus!"

"It's past 7!" 

"Then take a cab!"

"Those are too expensive."

The back and forth was strangely engrossing. The man who had gone to get the Kira sketch had to poke him on the shoulder to bring Shouto back to the task at hand. 

"Thank you," Shouto murmured. He folded it into a small square and shoved it into his pocket. Let his father gripe about the creases and wrinkles. 

Then there was screaming.

They all reacted the same, widening their stances and directing their weapons towards the hallway the sound came from. 

The holding cells.

Bakugo shoved the kid towards the door. "Get out of here." 

"But-"

"Now!" 

Shouto couldn't resist a glance in their direction. 

The boy looked more irritated than scared, but he did as he was told. 

And Stain stepped out of the hallway with an officer held in front of him, bleeding from a scratch on his cheek. It was a minor wound, but the man was dangling in his hold.

Paralyzed.

Stain chuckled. "Who wants to sacrifice this man's life in exchange for my capture, hmm?" 

On the one hand, it was smart of him to leave his gear at home. Kacchan had nothing on him. It had all gone about as expected (better than expected! A slap on the wrist, nothing on the record) but now he was left without resources.

He should have known Stain would escape. The man was resourceful. And his work was simple, he didn't even need a sword. A sharp fingernail and a quick tongue. Izuku could picture exactly how it had gone down.

And why hadn't he just killed him? He was on the list anyway. Izuku would have worked his way there given enough time.

"Coward," he murmured, pacing in front of the police station.

The truth was Stain had seemed too intimidating. He'd wanted to work his way up to the challenge. Start with the small fry. 

It was a selfish way of thinking. 

But he would fix this. He ran around the building and found a window. It was easy to find the right one. Tech support.

A young woman opened it. "R-reinforcements?" 

Izuku sighed. "Anyone could say yes to that." 

She looked like she wanted to cry. Must be a newbie, she was awfully young. 

"Hey now, it's alright. I just want to help."

"You don't have a badge, do you?" 

"I don't," he admitted. "But I have an idea." 

Without waiting for permission, he climbed in through the window. 

"Cold Flare should have a com system built into his suit," Izuku said. "And so should all the officers on the scene." 

The lights were off and only the soft blue glow of the computer screens illuminated the girls frightened face.

"Are you alone in here? Why are the lights off?"

"Shh! I was pretending the room was empty!" The girl whispered. 

"What happened to tech support?" 

"Tech support is, like, three people! And we're usually scheduled separately."

Izuku groaned. "Budget cuts?"

"Well the pro hero's have their own buildings full of support staff and their people usually carry the brunt of the techie stuff," the girl said. "We just catalogue footage and other evidence for, like, court! We don't get in on the action ."

"Well you're getting into it today," Izuku said. "Which of these is your fastest computer?"

The girl shrugged. 

Izuku was tempted to ask for her name. But then she'd inevitably want his. 

It was bad enough he was operating without a mask or a voice modulator. He knew how to adjust the com system to mask his voice, but there wasn't anything he could do about this girl.

Unless… 

"Do you want to get out of here?" 

"What like… through the window?"

"Yeah. You can just leave."

"W-would that be safe?"

"Perfectly safe."

"But there's a criminal on the loose."

"He's still in the building." 

The girl was shaking and she hugged herself tightly. "Would I get fired?"

"I don't know," Izuku said. "Maybe."

She sighed. "I hate this job anyway." 

"I can escort you," Izuku said. "Be your meat shield." 

She giggled. "You'd take a bullet for a stranger?" 

"Sure I would. And you let a stranger break into a police station."

That sombered her. "I'm definitely getting fired." 

Izuku climbed back out the window and held out his hand. She grabbed it and followed him out.

He walked her to her car and made his way back into the building. Then, picking a computer at random, he got to work. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki slipped on the ice and banged his chin on a frozen doorknob. "Godammit, can't you keep it off the fucking floor?!" 

Todoroki glided past on another one of his stupid ice slides. "Just stay still!"

"Why do I gotta guard the door?" Katsuki grumbled. "You should do that!" 

Stain cackled at them. "Glory seekers to the end, all of you." 

The man was slippery. He got down on the floor and pushed himself off the reception desk before Katsuki realized what he was aiming at.

Sliding on his belly like a goddamn sea otter, Stain went for the doors. Katsuki tried to grab him, but the bastard slid right between his legs. 

"You annoying fuck!" He tried to smack him with an explosion, but Stain dodged. 

"Too hot headed," Stain tsked. "You've boiled over." 

He'd accidentally melted a hole in the ice wall and shattered the glass door. "Fuck!" 

Again, he made a grab for Stain. 

And again he lost him.

"Well, why are the doors made of glass?" Bakugo griped. "This is a police station for christ sake." 

"At least we saved the hostage," Shouto said. 

The man was still suffering paralysis, but the medic had assured them it was temporary. 

Bakugo's palms were popping. "He shouldn't have been taken hostage in the first place!" 

"You were off the clock," Natsume said with a sigh. "What business did you have here?"

Head of PR for Endeavor's agency, Natsume was first at the scene of any major incident. It was always a race against the media, he'd say.

Shouto hated the way the man would shove a phone in their faces to tape their statements. In a lot of ways he was worse than the most bloodthirsty of reporters.

Bakugo snatched said phone out of Natsume's hands. "That's private." 

Natsume pulled another phone out of his blazer. "Then I won't include it in our statement," he said. "But I need all the facts." 

"You have them," Shouto said. "And I'm willing to take the fall for-" 

"The hell you are!" Bakugo said. "This was my fuck up." 

"You were right about the door," Shouto said. "I shouldn't have blindly-" 

"For fuck's sake," Bakugo said. "It doesn't matter." 

And in typical Ground Zero fashion, he stomped away.

Natsume tried to stop him. "You can't just leave." 

"I'm off the clock!" 

Shouto felt his lips twitch into a smile for the briefest of moments, but noticing the movement mutated it into a grimace. 

He had no right to smile.

Useless, talentless, fruitless Deku. 

He'd gotten arrogant. What made him think meddling with heros would help anybody? 

Cold Flare had tried his best to cooperate with Izuku's ideas, but there wasn't enough time to properly strategize. 

Power Loader always said that was his greatest weakness. He didn't know how to adapt on his feet, wasn't capable of working with others or interacting with the world outside the abstract. 

It would have been nice to prove him wrong.

Izuku hadn't felt this devastatingly disappointed in himself since the day he was expelled from U.A's support department. 

He wondered if Deku got a cab after all, then wanted to kick himself. Stupid fucking Deku and his cryptic ass smart mouth. 

Was he related to Stain's escape? He'd been in the same hallway just moments before it all went down. But if Deku really was Kira why would he have let the police capture Stain if he planned to break him back out? Even if he wasn't Kira, it didn't make sense.

Was this all some elaborate evil scheme? Did Stain take something from the police station while he was there? What would motivate such a bizarre change in both their M.Os?

Katsuki found it hard to believe they were actually working together, but anything was possible. 

These were too many goddamn coincidences. 

"Can you give me the name of the techie that I was talking with?" Shouto said.

Natsume raised an eyebrow. "You hate techies."

"What? No I don't." Shouto's eyes were drying out under the fluorescent lights. He blinked rapidly and resisted the urge to rub them like a child late for bed.

"I guess you hate everybody," Natsume said. "You've never wanted to socialize with anyone before." 

"I don't want to socialize," Shouto said. "I just want to ask him something. He cut the coms rather abruptly." 

Natsume was skimming his notes. "I didn't know there was a techie on the scene." 

"Technically he wasn't on the scene-"

"No one was assigned to the case," Natsume said. 

"What do you mean?" Shouto rubbed his eyes. 

"It all happened too fast," Natsume said. "You were sort of off the clock too. And it was over before we knew what was up."

"Then who did I talk to?" 

Natsume shrugged. "Must have been one of theirs." He gestured around them. "Ask one of the cops." 

He needed better equipment. Something less bulky that he could carry with him at all times. It would need to be disguised as something banal, so that he could keep it close without incriminating himself. 

And he needed more time. If Izuku could work in peace without the constraints of maintaining his day job maybe he'd actually make a difference. 

Or was that a lazy excuse? 

He wanted to call in sick, but this was the worst time for that kind of nonsense. 

Izuku knew Kacchan well enough to guess what his next course of action would be. 

So he restrained himself to sketching rough drafts in his notebook under the dim lamp light of his apartment. Then, on little sleep, he went to work. 

The techie remained a mystery. There had only been one clocked in at the police station that day and she was a young woman who had abandoned her post because of the incident. 

The voice Shouto had heard, though static ridden and non-descript, had definitely been male. 

Had he been tricked by a villain? Stain's accomplice? 

The thought didn't ring true, but there was no other logical explanation. 

When he got home that night Shouto omitted that particular detail from his report to Endeavor. He'd stood straight and tense, prepared for violence.

None had come. 

"You're a disgrace," Endeavor said. 

And that was all.

Chapter Text

Deku's life was as boring as Katsuki had expected. He lived alone in a shitty efficiency apartment, left at six forty five every morning for a jog.

At eight Deku went to the University. Katsuki hesitated to follow him in.

He would, if he could skip patrol.

Today, he's late and his partner is expressionless.

Partners never last long with Ground Zero. They say he has an attitude problem. Say he doesn't cooperate in a crises.

They transfer after a handful of shifts with him.

Recently, impatient at all the partner swapping his employees were doing, Endeavor had refused a transfer.

And that particular hero had left the agency. 

That's when he first got stuck with Icy Hot. 

"You should know better than to let your personal life interfere with work," Todoroki said.

It was the first thing to break the silence between them. They were halfway through patrol and the streets were quiet.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Katsuki said. 

A cat suddenly leapt out of a trash can and Katsuki nearly exploded its tail off. It hissed and ran off.

Todoroki sighed. "You were late. For the third time this month." 

"You gonna report me?" Katsuki sneered. He knew Icy Hot would get the brunt of the blame for any conflict between them. He was expected to "handle Ground Zero."

"You're abusing the agency's resources," Todoroki said. 

He was as expressionless as ever. Ice queen to the end. 

"Fuck you! No I'm not." Katsuki glared at a civilian who was gawking at them. The idiot grinned and took a picture.

For some reason Ground Zero was popular for his blatant bad attitude. 

"Midoriya Izuku is your childhood friend," Todoroki said. "How is that not personal and an abuse of-" 

Todoroki ducked. The brick wall behind him smoked and charred.

Katsuki clenched his fists at his sides and tried to control his breathing. He shouldn't have done that.

As calmly as possible, Katsuki bit out, "You looked him up?" 

Todoroki's eyebrow twitched. "Twenty four years old, he was once your neighbor. Now he's a TA at-" 

"Why did you look him up?" He was still breathing too heavily, heart pumping. 

They'd stopped walking, but Todoroki stepped forward and gestured with his hand. Come along now.

Glaring at him, Katsuki followed. But he couldn't even pretend to observe their surroundings. 

"At first I thought he was your brother," Todoroki said. "Though there was no resemblance." 

Katsuki snorted. 

"And I wouldn't have pursued the matter," Todoroki continued. "But then I noticed you'd taken out surveillance equipment." 

"Just the goggles!" Katsuki said. "Fuck, there's a whole pile going unused anyway-"

"And you're late for patrols," Todoroki said. "Skipping briefings-"

"I only skipped one ."

Todoroki stopped walking again, this time stepping into Katsuki's path and looking him dead in the eye. "Is Midoriya a person of interest?" 

Katsuki blinked. "You mean for, uh-" 

"For the agency," Todoroki said. "Does he have ties to the League of Villains, or to-"

"No," Katsuki said. Too quickly. "He doesn't."

He didn't want the sharks to circle until he was sure. And Katsuki wanted to find out himself. By himself.

"Then return any equipment you've taken out," Todoroki said. "I know it was more than the goggles. And be careful that he doesn't file charges against you for stalking." 

Katsuki rolled his eyes at that last bit.

"And be on time for your job ," Todoroki added.

The prick.

Deku typically left the University at around five or six. Today he was late. Or had he left early? Katsuki could have missed him.

He'd been tempted to leave the meeting early. It was pointless anyway. Kira hadn't killed anyone else since the dead villain that had been found with an immobilized Stain. 

Stain had killed two more heroes though and Endeavor was putting the cases together, convinced they were in league. 

The more he talked about it the more certain Katsuki felt that he was dead wrong. 

"I want results, Cold Flare," Endeavor had said. "You and Ground Zero. Double your patrols." 

Katsuki hadn't bothered to argue it. But he'd gotten out of there before Icy Hot could catch him and work out when they'd fit the new patrols in.

Because he just had to skulk around Deku's goddamn University. It was eight now and he had five missed calls from the prickly bastard. 

And one from Shitty Hair. 

Giving up on Deku for the day, Katsuki called him back. 

"Baku-broooo," Kirishima said. "What've you been up to? It's been ages!" 

"Work, what else?" 

"I knew you would say that," Kirishima said. 

Katsuki could picture the dude's ear to ear grin, sharp teeth and a sun shine attitude. 

"Listen, I wanted to have a reunion," Kirishima said. "A bros night, with the ol' gang, you know?" 

"Uh-"

"You're done with work for the day right?" Kirishima continued. "No particular mission or project going on? You on a sting?" 

Katsuki frowned. When was the last time he went on a proper mission? Something that wasn't just for PR or the piecemeal action caught on patrol? 

Something that wasn't bullshit detective work on a string of murders that should've been somebody else's problem?

"Nothin' going on," Katsuki muttered.

"Great! Denki's already here and the rest are on their way," Kirishima said. "You remember where I live, right?"

"What, now?" 

"Yeah bro! No time like the present," Kirishima laughed and Katsuki could hear someone raising the volume of a TV or something in the background. "See you soon!"

And he hung up before Katsuki could change his mind. 

Everyone got there before him. It looked like they'd already started drinking.

Sero and Mina were dancing in the living room, using his tape to waltz over furniture and backflip like an impromptu trapeze act. 

Denki had set up a karaoke machine and was standing on the coffee table, singing his lungs out.

"Great to see you!" Kirishima gave him a hug as soon as he'd stepped through the doorway. "It's been too long, don't you think?" 

"This is random as fuck," Katsuki said. "Are we here for an intervention or something?" 

Denki spun around on the coffee table and dramatically pointed at Katsuki. "This next one's for you, bro!" 

"Ugh." It was too late to just walk out, wasn't it? 

"Here, have a drink," Mina said, sidling up to him and slinging an arm over his shoulder. "He sounds better when you're drunk." 

"I have to practice guys!" Denki said. "I'm guest starring on Jirou's show next month." 

"They'll probably dub his voice," Mina whispered. "But that only works if he believes. He's a shitty actor." 

"I know," Katsuki said. "I saw that stupid commercial." 

"Sweatpants for an electric workout," Kirishima intoned dramatically. "Buy now or my name isn't Stun Gun!" 

Sero had gotten tangled in his own tape, but he wasn't letting that bother him. Without Mina's support he was hopping around, until he tipped over and landed on the couch, giggling.

"He's lucky," Sero wheezed. "Th-that the pre-teens are as- as dumb as he is!" 

Katsuki awkwardly held onto the drink Mina had handed him. He didn't feel like getting hammered, and what's the point of drinking otherwise? 

When she wasn't looking he gave it to Kirishima, who gave him a thumbs up and chugged it down, returning the empty cup to Katsuki. 

"Want a turn at karaoke?" Kirishima said. 

"No I, uh, I think I'm going to head out," Katsuki said. 

Mina had been bent over Sero, trying to untangle him. But her head snapped up so fast they could all hear her neck crack. "What?!" 

"Dude, you just got here." Denki turned off the karaoke machine. "Is it the music? We can turn off the music." 

They were all staring at him in dismay. 

Normally they'd call him a killjoy and turn the music up louder. They'd dare him to take shots or challenge him to arm wrestling.

Maybe too much time had passed, but the atmosphere was different. 

"This is a goddamn intervention, isn't it?" Katsuki said. 

Kirishima put his hands up. "No, it's just-" 

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested." And he spun around for the door. 

Kirishima followed him out. "Don't you miss your friends? Don't you ever want to just relax?!" 

"You telling me you guys are partying together every weekend?" Katsuki said.

Kirishima hesitated.

"Well?" 

"Not every weekend, but-" 

"I don't have time for parties," Katsuki said.

"Forget the party, we don't need to party." Kirishima pulled out his wallet. "What about dinner? Just the two of us." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"Bakugo-" 

"Just tell me what you want ." 

They stared at each other for a moment, Katsuki with his fists clenched, Kirishima with his shoulders slumped.

"You know I wanted you at Fatgum's." 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "It's too late for-"

"Why is it too late? People transfer all the time." 

"Not me," Katsuki growled.

"But you don't have any friends at Endeavor's and you've been acting..." 

Kirishima trailed off. 

In that moment, Katsuki wished he had a mirror so he could see the look on his own face. What kind of expression was it? Kirishima had paled. He bit his lip so hard he pierced the skin. 

"Who have you been talking to?" Katsuki murmured.

Kirishima's eyes widened. 

"Don't try to deny it," Katsuki said. "Someone giving you the rumors at my agency? Or sniffing around you for dirt?" 

"It wasn't like that." 

"Then what the fuck was it like?" 

Kirishima took a deep breath. "Todoroki is worried that-" 

"Hah!" Katsuki would kill him. "That's rich. That hypocrite should be worried about his own friends. Because he doesn't have any." 

"But he says you've become obsessed with this guy you used to know? A professor?" 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

They were standing in Kirishima's driveway and Katsuki was willing to bet the rest of the gang was pressed up against the front door, trying to weasel in on...

On whatever the fuck they thought he was getting up to. 

"Don't talk to that fucker about me," Katsuki said.

"But the professor-" 

"He's a TA for christ sake," Katsuki said. "And he's quirkless. He's harmless. I'm not obsessed either." 

Kirishima looked baffled. "What does he have to do with anything?" 

"It's my business," Katsuki said. "Icy Hot is just pressing my buttons. First using him. Now using you. Just stay out of it." 

"But I'm worried about you," Kirishima said. 

"I won't say it again." 

"Alright," Kirishima said. "I'll stay out of it." 

He probably should have gone home, but instead he went to Deku's. He stayed up all night waiting for something to happen.

Nothing ever did.

Chapter Text

Kacchan's work schedule was simple and repetitive. Like most newbie pro-heros he was saddled with a lot of grunt work. Constant patrols and obligatory PR appearances.

Occasionally called in on raids and missions, he had otherwise worked alone until the Watch Your Back Initiative, which was spurred on by the rise in hero homicide from the likes of Stain and his many copy cats.

Now each hero had to work with a partner and Kacchan was with Cold Flare. 

The funniest thing of all? All this info was public knowledge. Heroes had always been a mix of law enforcement and celebrity figures, after all. It was no wonder Stain could pick them off so easily.

And Underground Heroes, as a group, were dying out. Most kids graduating from hero schools just weren't motivated to go that route. They didn't want to sacrifice the popularity and TV/radio deals that often came with the job.

Many heroes also modeled for ads and commercials. Some had movie deals, music careers, or art that was worth thousands simply because it was painted by such and such big name hero in their spare time.

In the end, the real reason Izuku hadn't killed Stain was obvious. It was because, in his heart of hearts, he agreed with him. There was something fundamentally wrong with the hero industry's machinations.

But killing heroes was not a solution. The two who had died since Stain's escape weighed heavily on Izuku's conscious. So they'd had hobbies, so they posted swimsuit pics on Instagram: so what? These things were not crimes.

And if a hero helps people for the wrong reasons what does it matter as long as civilians are being helped?

Only one hero, as far as Izuku could tell, really did deserve to die.

And so did Stain. Izuku meant to correct his mistake. 

Still, it wasn't easy tip toeing around Kacchan's schedule. Izuku regretted the slip that set Kacchan on his tail. Giving Stain the childhood nickname had been nothing but a whim, a childish attention seeking gesture.

Now that he had the attention it was awfully inconvenient, but he figured he could still work around it, if he was careful.

The list of thugs he'd planned to kill would be shelved for now. He wanted to focus on Stain. And improve his equipment. 

Things might have stayed at this equilibrium- Izuku tip toeing and Kacchan stalking- for weeks or even months. But then Kacchan took things a step further.

He'd set up some kind of trip wire on Izuku's apartment door. When Izuku opened it that night an alarm blared out.

Scrambling back inside, he took off all his equipment: helmet, boots, gloves, belt, and any other damning evidence he could think of got shoved under the couch.

That done, he ran back to his front door and got smacked by it when Kacchan burst in.

"Deku!" He bellowed. "The hell are you doing?!" 

Izuku thought for a minute, heart racing, and tactfully decided to collapse, moaning and grabbing at his head. 

"Oi!" Kacchan said, slightly calmer. "You dumb fuck, what are you doing?" 

"What am I doing?!" Izuku said, still clutching his head. "What are you doing? I live here!"

"The hell were you going at 3:41 in the goddamn morning?" Kacchan awkwardly stood over Izuku, who was still on the floor.

Izuku curled into the fetal position.

"Jesus christ, don't be a baby." Kacchan hauled him up and shoved him towards the couch. Not good. "It was just the freaking door."

"You slammed it into my head," Izuku whined. "And my shoulder!"

He pulled away from Kacchan, making a show of rotating his shoulders, and walked back towards the front door.

He didn't want either of them to get any closer to that couch. He was afraid something would peek out from under if someone sat. 

"Where were you going?" Kacchan said.

"I'm sorry is there a curfew I wasn't aware of?" Izuku said. "What are you doing here? Was that a… a booby trap?" 

Kacchan scowled. "Don't play innocent." 

Izuku opened his mouth to do exactly that and Kacchan cut him off.

"I know you know I've been following you," Kacchan said.

Izuku did his best to blink cluelessly. "Why would you be following me?" 

Kacchan put his hands on Izuku's shoulders and leaned in.

For once, he didn't look angry. Just... Completely calm. And serious. "I said don't play innocent." 

"Kacchan-"

"You shook me off yesterday," Kacchan said. "That's how I know you know. That's when I knew for sure that you do know and there is something that you're hiding."

Damn. Izuku had meant to be subtle about it, but he'd gotten impatient. He'd needed to meet Hatsume at her workshop and didn't want to risk Kacchan connecting the two of them as friends.

When Izuku didn't reply Kacchan tightened his grip on his shoulders. "Deku, what are you doing?" 

Izuku stepped back, trying to shake him off. Kacchan followed, grip strong as steel. "Deku-"

"Nothing!" Izuku noticed his front door was still open and he awkwardly walked them towards it. "Get out." 

"But I know-" 

"Yeah, yeah," Izuku said. "You know that I know you've been stalking me. That doesn't prove anything." 

Now Kacchan's face scrunched in on itself, as it often had in their childhood. "It proves you're hiding something," he growled. "It proves-"

"It proves I'm not dumb enough to not notice a stalker," Izuku said. "Fine, I shook you. But you had no right to follow me in the first place." 

The look on Kacchan's face just then reminded Izuku of the footage from the sports festival their freshman year. Teeth bared, neck straining.

But Kacchan was an adult now. He didn't need to be chained to a podium. Or muzzled either. There was no yelling, no tantrum.

Instead he huffed for a moment, trying to come up with a response.

Izuku pried each of Kacchan's fingers off his shoulders. One by one.

Kacchan let him and then let his arms fall to his sides. He sighed. "Where were you going?" 

"This again?" Izuku said. "It's not against the law-"

"Then give me an alibi!" Kacchan fisted his hands in his hair. "Tell me where you were when you shook me and where you're going now."

"An alibi?" They were standing halfway over the threshold now. "Aren't you doing things kind of backwards?"

Kacchan glared at him while Izuku nudged him the rest of the way over the threshold.

Then he managed to finally close his front door, with both of them outside the apartment.

Izuku locked up, just for his own peace of mind.

"Either tell me you're a fucking serial killer or give me an alibi," Kacchan muttered. 

Izuku thought it was odd how subdued he sounded now, but then he saw a light turn on in his neighbor's apartment.

Even Ground Zero had to try and protect his image. 

"Again with that," Izuku sighed as if it were the most baffling thing. "Look, let me walk you to your car." 

"Deku-" 

"You don't want to keep talking here do you?"

Izuku gestured at the neighbor's window. They could both see a curtain swirling. Like someone had really quickly peeked out and then tried to hide. 

Kacchan groaned. 

So they walked down the stairs of the apartment complex and made it to street level in stoney silence. 

Then Izuku headed across the street, to one of his storage units.

"My car's the other way," Kacchan grumbled.

"I'm not actually going to walk you to it," Izuku said. 

"Then what the fuck-" 

"You said you wanted an alibi," Izuku said. "And you know I don't have a car." 

"Yeah..." 

"So you were probably wondering how I expected to get around at almost 4 a.m." 

The look on Kacchan's face told Izuku it hadn't occurred to him to wonder about that.

Izuku grinned.

He'd been planning on using his jet boots, of course. But they were now stuck under his couch. Luckily, he'd just figured out how to give himself the alibi Kacchan wanted.

The storage until was filled with incomplete projects. It all looked innocent enough. To the untrained eye, just a pile of junk. He knew Kacchan wasn't tech savvy. 

And one such incomplete project was a motorcycle.

It worked as, well, a motorcycle. But Izuku and Hatsume had been attempting to trick it out. Unsuccessfully, so far. There just wasn't enough room on the frame.

Said frame was bare, missing the encasing like a car without a hood and its doors. Not pretty to look at, but good enough to drive. 

Kacchan glared around the unlit storage unit, using the flashlight on his phone to look for incriminating evidence. 

But the only hallmark to Kira's costume was safely at home. 

"The fuck is all this?" 

"My hobby." Izuku rolled the motorcycle out of the unit and closed the place back up. He didn't wait for Kacchan, forcing him to bend over to duck out as the door came down. 

"Can that piece of junk even drive?" Kacchan blinked at the motorcycle.

"Not well," Izuku said. "That's why it's safer when there's no traffic." 

"Bullshit," Kacchan said. "That's a shitty alibi. You really expect me to believe you're going for a test drive at 4 a.m?" 

Izuku smirked. "Well, I had one other motivation, as to the time..." 

"What other motivation?" 

"A girl," Izuku said. It had been his go to lie, back when he lived with his mother. 

"Ha?!" 

"She's a little eccentric," Izuku added. "Doesn't really keep a proper sleeping schedule." 

Kacchan got red in the face. "Fine," he snapped. "But yesterday-"

"Same girl," Izuku said smoothly.

That part was true technically. He knew Hatsume would corroborate the story if she were questioned because it was the cold hard truth. 

And she was a girl. An asexual girl, but Kacchan didn't know that.

"Give me her name," Kacchan said through gritted teeth.

Izuku pouted. "Do I need big brother's approval?" 

Kacchan's palms exploded and he had to stuff them under his armpits. He growled and stomped away, stomped back, stomped away.

My, my, maybe those anger management classes had been useful after all. 

"I'll follow you, you little shit!" Kacchan said, stomping back towards Izuku yet again.. "Get on your damn motorcycle and go on." 

Izuku shook his head regretfully. "Don't really feel up to it anymore." 

He opened the door to his storage unit and wheeled the motorcycle back in.

"I'll have to send her my regrets," Izuku continued. "But after all this harassment-"

"I fucking hate you," Kacchan said.

"Have a good night," Izuku said. 

Kacchan walked Izuku back across the street and marched him right back up to his apartment. "Stay inside then," he said.

Izuku frowned as he unlocked his door and stepped inside. "Are you going to set the booby trap up again? Cause it'll bother everyone when I go for my jog." 

Kacchan slammed the door in his face without responding.

Chapter Text

It wasn't Shouto's first funeral. But this time was... different. 

There was a section of seating reserved specifically for U.A students from their graduating class and Shouto found himself next to Iida Tenya, who had been their class president. 

He kept taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a little cloth, but the bundle of tears at his eyelashes (few enough that they didn't fall, but enough to stain them like spots on a badly washed wine glass) made the task endless.

"I signed a confidentiality waiver once," Iida said. He took a moment to blow his nose, then shook his head. "Well, more than once." 

Shouto realized Iida was talking to him. 

"We all have," he said, unsure where Iida was going with this.

"It was my first one though," Iida continued. "I was still in high school. Didn't even have my provisional license yet." 

That got Shouto's attention. "It must have been a unique situation." 

Iida nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Jiro had gotten up behind the podium to give the eulogy.

Shouto wanted to pay attention, to respect the dead and respect her grief.

But the truth of the matter was, he hardly knew Kaminari Denki. They'd been classmates, sure. And had occasionally worked together on school exercises that would pair students into random teams.

But they'd never... socialized.

To be fair to Kaminari, Shouto hadn't socialized with anyone. Only Iida and Yaoyorozu had gone out of their way to invite him to study groups and the like.

Being class representatives, Shouto had accepted that for what it was. A desire to account for every student under their charge. 

When Shouto thought the speech was over, a group of young men began to carry an assortment of instruments into the limited space behind the podium. 

"I know this is unconventional," Jiro said. "But I'd like to sing a song I wrote for Denki last year. It was his favorite." 

"Hell yeah, Kyoka!" Ashido yelled from the front row. "Let's hear it!" 

"And you guys," Jiro paused. Swallowed. "P-please don't sit so stiffly. You can stand, you can... you know there's a bar in the back? Free drinks." 

Someone else gave a sad little whoop. Shouto couldn't tell who it was. 

"Actually can someone please get me a drink?" Jiro said. "I need a little kick." 

Kirishima, who'd been in the row directly in front of Shouto, immediately scrambled out of his seat to do just that. 

Everyone else hesitantly stood. Iida started folding up the chairs and carrying them out of the way. Just sort of propping them against the wall.

Shouto decided to help him and they were both still doing that when Jiro began to sing. 

It was kind of a joke song, the lyrics were cynical, but with a cheerful counterpart at every other line. Was it meant to be a duet?

As they listened, some people began crying in earnest. 

Iida put an arm around Shouto when they were done with the chairs. "Thank you for your service," he said.

My service? Shouto thought. I just moved some chairs. 

Somehow he ended up getting pulled toward the bar with Iida. Jiro had already finished the song, but people urged her to keep going. The next one was louder. Angrier. 

Iida downed two shots of vodka while Shouto sipped at a whiskey watered down by Dr. Pepper. 

"Stain," Iida groaned. "I wish I had killed him. I wish I could've." 

Shouto blinked. "You've encountered him yourself?" 

"I looked for him," he said. "I wanted revenge. For my brother, you know." 

That's right, Shouto thought. Iida had inherited his hero name upon his older brother's retirement. The original Ingenium had survived an attack from Stain, but ended up in a wheelchair. 

"I was a stupid kid," Iida said. "I should have died that day." 

"Who saved you?" Shouto said.

Iida downed another shot of whiskey. "That's what gets to me. No one did." 

Shouto blinked. "Stain spared you?" 

"And he had the nerve to lecture me!" Iida said. "About what it means to be a hero. A goddamn hero. I almost respected him, in that moment."

Shouto didn't know what to say to that.

"Kaminari was a good hero," Iida said. "And even if he hadn't been, he was a good person. "

Iida slumped against the bar. "Good person," he repeated. 

Shouto wondered why there weren't any bar stools. He could get one of the chairs against the wall, but it would be too short.

"He's never been good with alcohol." Uraraka came up to them and put an arm around Iida's waist, pulling him away from the bar and propping him up.

She wrinkled her nose. "Were you taking shots ?!" 

She raised her eyebrows at Shouto. As if to say, And you let him?

Shouto gulped down the rest of his Dr. Pepper and Whiskey, ready to call it a night.

"Kira could have killed him," Iida murmured. "I could have killed him. Endeavor could've-" 

"That's enough of that," Uraraka said. "You don't answer killing with killing." 

"But why didn't Kira-" Iida continued.

"Shush," Uraraka said. "I think it shows he still has some compassion in him. He hesitated. Thought prison would be more humane." 

"Or he didn't want to go against one of his own," Bakugo growled, slamming a fist down on the other side of the bar. "Motherfuckers were pals." 

"Bakugo-" Shouto started.

"He must have helped him break out!" Bakugo said. "There's no other explanation." 

He'd been drinking with Kirishima, who slung his own shot of vodka down his throat, looking resigned. 

"You saw the footage," Shouto said. "Stain did everything himself." 

Iida barfed on Uraraka's dress.

"Good thing it's black," she said. "C'mon Tenya, let's get you a cab." 

They wobbled away and Bakugo took Iida's spot. "Fine, so Stain broke himself out. But maybe Kira put him in there knowing he would. Maybe-"

"Katsuki," Kirishima said. "Please." 

Bakugo said, voice cracking, "They killed him." 

"I know bro," Kirishima said. "And we'll find Stain. Kira too. But tonight can we just… can we just grieve?"

Bakugo groaned. "Fine. Fuck." 

Swallowing nervously, Shouto said. "We can talk more about this later. At work." 

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugo said. 

Then, because he really felt out of place, Shouto quietly walked away.

Glancing around at his fellow alumni and pro-heros, he hoped nobody would notice him leave the building.

He just… he just wanted to go home. 

Fuyumi had received an invitation to the funeral, as pro-hero relatives always did, but she'd stayed home.

He wished he could have done the same, then felt a rush of guilt. Kaminari Danni was dead and all Shouto could think about was his own social awkwardness and discomfort.

Being a hero is more than patrols and putting villains behind bars, Shouto thought. There are all these little things too.

Ways in which Shouto was not kind enough to act. Would that ever change? 

He hoped he could at least be a better hero than his father. 

Still, he slunk home to his sister like a little boy after a disappointing school dance. 

She made him hot chocolate. 

Chapter Text

"Where the hell are you going?" Kirishima tried to grab Katsuki's arm.

Katsuki elbowed him. 

He was sloppy with the angle, hitting his funny bone on Kirishima's hardened abdomen. 

"The funeral is over," Katsuki muttered, clenching and unclenching his hand while his nerves tingled.

"B-but we're all gonna… you know." Kirishima brushed his bangs out of face. He hadn't gelled his hair for the funeral, though he was dressed as formally as anyone. 

"Uh, I don't know," Katsuki said impatiently. He looked at his watch. 7:21 p.m.

Deku would be done at the University by now.

"Well, go with Jiro back to her place...." Kirishima said. "Sleep over and all. So she won't be alone tonight."

"Don't need me for that," Katsuki said. 

"But-" 

"Look," Katsuki said. "Right now I'm more pissed than anything else. I don't want to vomit my anger all over you!" 

Kirishima stared at him. 

Then his lips began to tremble. "Th-that's kind of sweet, Bakugo." 

The fucker was gonna cry again.

"I'll see you later," Katsuki said. 

"See you later…" 

And Katsuki got the hell out of there.

Once Deku had pointed out the storage unit Katsuki realized the fucker spent a lot of time in there.

Usually late at night. 

But today Deku was early.

Too bad he didn't have any cameras. The best he could manage was a microphone. 

Deku was watching an Uravity video while he worked. 

"... Jiro's singing is always amazing, of course," Round Face was saying. "But she was kind of crying a little bit and it made her voice sound… well, she was husky. And she sang the duet Denki was supposed to sing with her...." 

She sounded pretty husky herself. 

Besides the video Katsuki could hear the clang and scrap of tools. He knew Deku wanted him to think he was working on that stupid motorcycle.

But he'd caught a glimpse of it just yesterday. It looked exactly the same. Untouched.

"I can't hear myself think," someone said. 

A woman's voice. Not Uraraka.

"It's almost done," Deku said. 

"Midoriya-" 

"It's a live stream!" Deku said. 

"But it'll be archived-" 

"It's Stun Gun's funeral ," Deku's voice cracked. "Please." 

The girl didn't say anything else. 

Katsuki shifted in his car and glared out the windshield. As if he could glare through the walls and figure out who was in there. 

Uraraka continued talking in fits and starts. The scrapping of tools continued. 

"Ingenium doesn't look so hot," the girl said after a while. 

"He's never been good with alcohol," Deku said.

Fucking fanboy. He was practically a stalker. 

Though Katsuki was one to talk. 

"I guess I can watch the rest later," Deku sighed. 

" Thank you!" 

Round Face's never ending monologue was finally cut out. 

Hmm, maybe the girl had been making faces or something. 

"Can we test it?" Deku said. 

Katsuki straightened. 

"Not here," the girl said. "What are we even doing here? My workshop-" 

"Shush," Deku said. 

"What? Why?" 

"I want to test it," Deku said. "Please?" 

There was a pause. 

A suspiciously long pause. 

Katsuki got out of his car with his gauntlets. 

Technically they were supposed to stay in the lockers when he was off duty, but… well he was on duty. Just unpaid. 

He braced himself for… he didn't know what.

Nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard some kind of squirt and splash sound. Then the girl started giggling. 

"You look like an idiot!" she said. 

Deku groaned. "It wasn't supposed to do that." 

Katsuki wanted to throw his headphones off and kick something. What the hell were they talking about?!

He needed a camera. 

One of those fancy tiny ones. Goddammit. If Icy Hot would just get off his case…

"If we were in the workshop-" the girl started.

"There's no Wi-Fi in there," Deku said. 

"Seriously? You dragged me all the way here because of the funeral?" 

"We didn't have to work on this tonight-"

"Over the phone you made such a fuss about-" 

"Yeah but-" 

"You said-" 

"I can handle it without you!" Deku sounded angry all of a sudden. 

"That's not what I'm saying." The girl was unfazed. "My babies need the exercise anyway." 

Katsuki frowned. Babies? 

I was going to see a girl, Deku had said.

Clearly this was the girl. But what the hell kind of relationship was this? It didn't seem normal. 

But Deku had never been normal, had he? 

Deku mumbled something Katsuki couldn't make out. 

"... if that's the case…" 

Was he whispering now? 

Katsuki widened his stance and aimed at the storage unit door.

Maybe now was the best time to try and catch the fucker at something illegal. 

The girl moaned and Katsuki froze with his arms aimed at the door. 

"Let's go inside," she said. All breathy. "The bed..." 

Oh hell no. Katsuki ducked under his car just in time for the door to be pulled open. 

They were covered in grease. Deku especially. His hair had been splashed by yellow paint or something. 

But they were holding hands and rushing towards Deku's apartment. 

Maybe they're just a nerdy couple, Katsuki thought. Maybe Deku has nothing to do with Kira. 

But Deku was his only lead. He needed some kind of proof of innocence before dropping it. The guy acted way too weird. There were too many coincidences.

And Denki deserved… what, to be avenged? Katsuki felt like an idiot just thinking it, but it felt true. He had to do something. 

He wanted to burn Deku's storage unit to the ground. At the very least the fucker was guilty of having a good goddamn time today of all days.

Instead Katsuki begrudgingly went home. 

He'd try again tomorrow. And the next day. 

Eventually Deku would make a mistake. It was only a matter of time. 

Chapter Text

The machine whired and sparked, spitting out a clear liquid that splattered Izuku's faceplate.

Hatsume was cackling. "At least it isn't yellow anymore!" 

He took his helmet off and threw it against the wall. It bounced back at him with a clang, smacking him on the forehead.

With a growl Izuku lunged for the helmet as it rolled away.

"Midoriya-" 

He ignored her and picked up a hammer, slamming it against the faceplate.

"Midoriya!" 

The glass was bulletproof, he knew he wouldn't make a dent. He just wanted to hit something. 

"Look at the hammer." She elbowed him in the gut and pulled it out of his hands. "Look."

He looked. 

It was like a chunk had been erased. Invisible at last.

He poked it and stared at his finger. It just looked like he'd dipped his finger in hair gel or something.

"What's this hammer made out of?" Izuku said.

"Copper, I think." Hatsume said. "No! Brass. Or both." 

Izuku groaned. "Great, so now I need to rebuild my helmet with copper and brass?" 

"You could just coat it-"

"And what about my clothes? Am I going to coat my pants with copper? Huh?" 

Hatsume took the hammer from him and put it under a microscope. "Shut up Mr. Grumpy. This is a breakthrough! Just think of all the stuff we'll be able to make with this baby-"

"It's taking too long ." His voice cracked. Izuku cleared his throat. "Can't we..." 

Can't we what? He thought. Invisibility might take town Stain, but it won't bring Stun Gun back. Or any of the others. 

Hatsume paid no attention to his distress. Her eyes were glued to the microscope.

"I'm going to take a flight around the block," he said. 

Hatsume glanced up. "What about Ground Zero?" 

Izuku shrugged. "He probably left." 

"Probably," she echoed. 

"I need to do something ," he snapped. "Ever since Stain escaped I've just been sitting on my ass-" 

"Sure, sure," she said. "But that's not because of Stain. It's Kacchan." 

He wanted to pull his hair out. He tugged at the roots and bit his lip. "I know, I know! I got cocky, I messed up." 

She shrugged. 

I don't care what you do with our tech , she'd said when they'd started. But I want all the data.  

Hatsume Mei did not mourn Stun Gun's death. She didn't see the heroes as people. They were just quirks, just bodies, for her to enhance with her babies. 

And his work was just an elaborate field test.

Suddenly, she grinned. "Oh! Maybe..." 

Hatsume picked up a notebook and started scribbling. "The chemical could be reacting to..." 

Normally Izuku would be interested in the science of it all. He'd be pleased at any little breakthrough.

But tonight his conscious weighed on him. If he'd only killed Stain when he'd had the chance...

It was a mistake he would not repeat.

"You can lock up behind you when you're done," Izuku said, pulling on his boots and gloves.

Hatsume frowned at him. "It would be smarter to wait." 

"Wait for what?" Izuku said.

"Wait to calm down," she said. "Wait for a proper plan. A strategy tailor made for Stain." 

"And watch him kill more heroes?" Izuku could feel his throat closing up. He wanted to cry.

"No," he said. "I have to stop him as soon as possible. I should be looking for him. Every night if I can. We can scare Kacchan off by pretending-"

"I've done enough pretending," Hatsume said. "You'll get tired of it too. Eventually." 

Izuku didn't know what she meant by that. But he was out of patience. 

It was awkward getting back on patrol with Bakugo after the funeral. 

He knew offering his condolences would not go over well, so Shouto said nothing. Instead he silently nodded at his partner, who ignored him, and they stiffly went about their business. 

They were working overtime. Patrols had been doubled and everyone was tense, waiting for Stain or Kira to make another appearance.

No one expected them to show up together.

"I want you and Ground Zero to take the lead on this," Father said over the intercom. "Did you get the coordinates?" 

Ground Zero was already jumping to the nearest roof, catapulting himself in the direction of the villains.

Shouto followed suit, but said "We aren't the closest heroes, shouldn't we be the reinforcements to-"

"You two are the only heroes I've notified," Father said. 

"Why?!" Shouto said. "It'll take us-"

"Just hurry," Father said. "I want you there first. Then I'll notify the others." 

There was no time to argue. His father hung up. 

"I call dibs on Kira," Bakugo said. "You take Stain!" 

And there they were, grappling in an alleyway. Kira was on the ground, a crack in his helmet, and Stain' s usual bandana was gone.

His shirt was also singed, as if he'd caught on fire. Kira was missing a boot.

They'd both be detained by now if father had notified a closer patrol team , Shouto thought. 

Kira kicked at Stain and a jet of fire came out of his remaining boot. Shouto tried to freeze them both where they were, but Bakugo bumped into his shoulder and threw off his aim. 

"I said go after Stain !" Bakugo shouted.

He sounded oddly desperate.

The wall above them was coated in ice. Kira gasped.

Stain grabbed Kira's remaining boot and yanked it off his foot. 

Bakugo sent an explosion toward Stain.

Didn't he say he wanted to attack Kira?

Then both villains were on their feet, running in opposite directions. 

"Get Stain!" Bakugo said, sprinting after Kira. 

Shouto hesitated for all of ten seconds.

But that was more than enough of a head start for Stain. He ran just ahead of Shouto and led them through a convoluted twist of backstreets and alleyways. 

Shouto tailed him for blocks.

Then he lost him.

Chapter Text

He didn't need to take the fucker's helmet off to know it was Deku. The idiot was wearing All Might socks for christ sake! 

And he was bleeding. Besides the iconic helmet and gloves he really was just wearing a black shirt and pants, torn and cut in too many places.

"Give it up, Deku," Katsuki growled. "There's nowhere for you to go." 

His voice came out robotic and static-y. "Y-you've crcck.. -rong idea," he said. 

"The hell I do!" Katsuki reached for his head, but Deku ducked under his arms and dove for a window. 

Glass shattered. 

"Idiot! You want to bleed to death?!" Katsuki launched an explosion towards the window, sending the remaining glass straight for Deku.

Maybe he could knock him out and carry him to a hospital. 

He jumped into the building. "Deku?!"

An ordinary kitchen, with a civilian cowering under a table. Whoops. He'd been hit by some of the glass.

"Whoops," Katsuki said.

"H-he went upstairs," the civilian said. 

"Call the cops," Katsuki said. "And paramedics." 

There was a path of bloody footprints leading through the apartment. 

"Deku!" Katsuki said. "C'mon, you know this vigilante shit isn't the right way to go." 

With less static this time, the stupid robot voice echoed around the room. "What's the right way, Ground Zero?" 

The lights went out. "Fuck! More games, then? You always thought you were so clever." 

"I'm stupid, actually," Deku said. "I learned that the hard way." 

A TV turned on, glowing brightly in the shabby living room. There was a logo on the screen. It looked like a robot rabbit. Glow in the dark green with red eyes. 

"This part of your plan then?" Katsuki squinted around the room. Deku couldn't have gotten far, bleeding like he'd been. "You gonna kill me next?" 

"I'm not like Stain!" The TV speakers exploded with the volume and Katsuki flinched, covering his ears. 

"Why break into this apartment?" Katsuki said. "A civilian got hurt!"

"That was your fault," Deku said. "Be careful in the future." 

Something pricked him in the neck. "F-fuck!" It was a small sting, like a bug bite. 

He pulled the dart out of his skin with a wince. "Deku!!"

His knees buckled. 

"Sorry Kacchan," Deku whispered. "I messed up again." 

Then Katsuki blacked out. 

He ran a few blocks in the dark, just blindly running without much thought, and finally stopped at a bus stop bench to sit and examine his wounds.

The cuts themselves were shallow, slices from Stain's sword and small cuts from glass. Neither Stain nor Kacchan had wanted to hurt him. 

His left sock was soaked in blood from a bigger gash in his foot. He'd stepped on a shard. Why hadn't he noticed?

Izuku tugged it out, hissing, and quickly pulled a roll of bandages out of his utility belt to bind it. 

He'd actually gotten the utility belt idea from Cold Flare, who always carried basic first aid equipment in cylindrical pouches on his belt. 

The burn cream in particular was infamous. The fire and ice hero was paranoid about accidentally burning someone, and he knew from experience that ice made burns worse- though the exact circumstances of the scar on his face remain a mystery. 

Izuku sighed, looking over the wounds on his arms and legs, which were scabbing so quickly he didn't need to bind them. These would be… conspicuous for a university TA. And they might scar. 

He continued to bandage them and imagined Kacchan bursting into his class, pulling his sleeves down and flinging accusations. 

This was no good. 

But Izuku only knew one person who could heal injuries like this in an instant. 

And she wouldn't be happy to see him. 

Katsuki woke up on a stretcher. Creepy Smile from PR was doing his creepy grinning thing, and looming way too close for comfort. 

"Get the fuck away from me Creepy Smile!" Katsuki pushed the man away.

He adjusted his tie. "It's Natsume," the man said. "Remember? We last spoke after Stain broke out of-"

"I fucking remember," Katsuki said, sitting up.

There were outside the building Deku had escaped into. Cops were mining about, talking to civilians, and the ambulance guys rushed over when Katsuki accidentally made eye contact with them.them.

"Ground Zero sir!" A bulky woman said. "You were hit by a tranquilizer." 

"D-do you feel dizzy, sir?" A mousey dude stuttered. "We could put you on an IV drip-" 

"Fuck that." Katsuki jumped off the stretcher. "How long was I out?" 

"It's only been an hour or so-" Creepy Smile said. "Listen, can we go over what happened here?" 

"Icy Hot went after Stain, I went after De- Kira," Katsuki said. "And the fucker knocked me out. What's there to go over?" 

"Well, there's a civilian who-" 

"I'll deal with that later." Katsuki clamped Natsume on the shoulder. "Later, Creepy Smile." 

"But where are you going?!"

Sorry Kacchan, I messed up again. 

He was going to Deku's apartment. 

It was around 4 a.m when he broke into Recovery Girl's house. 

First he had to break into the U.A. to hack their database for her information and Izuku had earned a few more cuts and bruises from the security system for his trouble.

Luckily it was just robots. He'd left a mess behind, but no witnesses. 

And as the sun threatened to break over the horizon Izuku had hastily removed his conspicuous helmet and gloves, reluctantly placing them in a dumpster by Recovery Girl's house for lack of a hiding place. 

Now he simply waited. He was lying down on her kitchen floor, struggling to control his breathing.

Izuku didn't have the courage to wake her up, so he waited, and watched the bandages on his arms and legs turn red. 

He didn't have the energy to rebandage them. 

Somehow, he fell asleep like that. 

He woke to a kick in the ribs. 

"Explain yourself," Recovery girl said. She'd hit him with her cane. 

"W-was in the… neighborhood," Izuku wheezed. 

She tutted. "Try again." 

He closed his eyes and lifted his arms imploringly. "Help?"

She sighed. "Midoriya, you ruffian. Sit up." 

He did as he was told, leaning against her kitchen cabinets and wincing as he noticed the sting of his wounds. 

It always hurt worse the day after, when the adrenaline is gone. 

"You do realize this is a gross abuse of my quirk and quite unsanctioned?" Recovery girl said. "Why I have half a mind to-"

"Please," Izuku said. "I can't go to a hospital. I can't…" 

Be seen with these injuries , he didn't say. 

Recovery Girl glared at him. "What have you gotten up to, young man?" 

He opened his mouth to respond, but found that his throat had closed up. 

Izuku realized he was breathing too heavily, too fast. 

Recovery Girl put her hands on his cheeks. He didn't even realize he'd been crying until she had brushed away his tears. 

"Hush now," she said. 

And she kissed his forehead. 

"You really are a problem child," she muttered. 

But his eyes were slipping closed again. 

Chapter Text

The lights were off when Shouto approached the house. But he didn't allow himself to relax.

Chapter Text

The reporters flocked around the hospital like scavengers to a forest fire. There were endless questions thrown at Shouto as he made his way into the building. They wanted to know what had happened at the Todoroki household. 

Fuyumi was embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Especially when she saw the cot he'd brought along. "You don't need to sleep here," she said. "You're going to throw your back out." 

"I want to," Shouto said, arranging himself by the window, as if to shield her from further cameras and questions that might break in. Though they were on the third floor.

He glanced over at and realized she was eyeing him expectantly. As if waiting for him to say something more. Shouto opened his mouth, searching for that something, but then closed it. 

He had nothing for her.

Finally his sister huffed and turned back towards the TV, raising the volume. A mindless sitcom was playing and Shouto was grateful as it filled in his silence.

If only he were the kind of brother who could break the tension with smiles and jokes. Or any conversation at all. But his throat choked on his own desires. 

Let's leave , he could say. Leave the city. Hell, we could leave the country.

But he already knew what her response would be. 

"Mom is on the first floor," Fuyumi said, when a commercial came on. 

"I know," Shouto said. 

"I don't suppose you stopped by on your way up." She kept her eyes on the TV as she spoke, her lip quivering. 

"I didn't." 

Shouto imagined walking down to find the woman, peacefully sleeping, and scooping her up like so much luggage. If she were packed away with their things he knew Fuyumi would agree to leave with him. 

Would it be hard to kidnap an institutionalized patient? Probably. Especially if the woman herself woke up and cowered away from the red in his hair. The too-similar features. 

"Father said he bought a new house," Fuyumi said. 

Shouto straightened. "He was here?"

She nodded at the flowers on her nightstand. "He apologized." 

He sneered at them. "I figured he'd sent a secretary." 

"Nope." She turned off the TV and turned to him. "Shouto, I know what you're thinking-"

"Then you don't have to say it."

"I'm sorry ," she reached out her hand and he took hold of it. "You know I wish-"

"Fuyumi," Shouto said. "It's not your fault." 

"But I-"

"Are we stuck in a loop?" He said. "The same argument over and over every time he loses his temper?" 

She bit her lip. 

"This time was worse," Shouto said. 

"I know, but-" 

"We can sue him." 

For years Fuyumi had been his rock. His big sister, practically his real mother, had seemed to tower above. Shielding him, when she could. 

Now she looked small in the hospital bed, her arms swathed in bandages as she stared up at him. "Wh-what?" 

"He has power of attorney over mother right now," Shouto said. "But we can argue he's an unfit guardian. That he's unstable himself." 

Her eyes widened. "You want to call him instable? Based on what?" 

He gestured at her arms. "Based on this. It's what he did to her, isn't it?"

She opened her mouth.

"And he burnt our house down." 

It would make a compelling case. He was sure of it.

"Are you crazy?! He'll-"

"What'll he do Fuyumi? Set me on fire?" Shouto could feel a pinch in his cheeks. A strange soreness at the unfamiliar lift as he bared his teeth. "It would further my case if he did." 

She squeezed his hand tightly. "Be careful." 

No, he thought. I'm done being careful.

It was easy to sneak into Fatgum's agency. Heroes from different agencies pooled resources often enough, after all. Katsuki just strolled in with his head up and walked quickly, as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere. 

When he finally spotted Kirishima he pulled the guy into an empty conference room. 

"Um, this is a pleasant surprise?" Kirishima was decked out in his hero costume, a headset dangling around his neck. "Are you helping with the Yakuza thing?" 

"No, I'm on the Stain and Kira case." Katsuki took a deep breath.

This was going to be unorthodox. 

"Listen, I want to recruit you," Katsuki said. 

Kirishima blinked. "Does Endeavor want to team up with Fatgum?" 

"No…" 

"Then how-"

"I'm following a lead… off record." Katsuki winced. "I mean-"

"Dude-"

"Before you say I'm crazy or out of line," Katsuki made a conscious decision to use his inside voice and smile tightly. "Let me catch you up on what's been happening." 

Kirishima's headset crackled and he held up a finger and slipped them over his ears. 

"Yeah I'm just gonna take a quick lunch first," Kirishima said into the headset. 

Then, to Katsuki, "You've got twenty minutes." 

"So now there's two possibilities," Katsuki said. 

"Uh huh." Kirishima was attentively studying the shitty dry eraser board Katsuki had scribbled on. 

Katsuki knocked the thing over. " Listen to me." 

"I've been listening," Kirishima said. "What are the two possibilities?" 

"The first is that Deku knows someone with a healing quirk- like Recovery girl or some shit-" 

"They do exist." 

"And the second is that…" 

"Yes?"

"Deku isn't Kira." He muttered through ground teeth. 

Kirishima smiled. "There. Was that so hard?" 

"But he has to be Kira," Katsuki growled. "So, new plan. I said some bullshit about wanting him to kill Stain." 

"Fuck. I kind of want someone to kill Stain," Kirishima muttered. 

Katsuki ignored that, busying his hands by picking the dry eraser board back up. "And I'm going to pretend to back off-" 

"You mean you'll stop stalking him." Kirishima smiled in a way that was probably meant to be persuasive. 

Idiot just looked constipated. 

"No," Katsuki pointed at the board, though his shitty chart was all smeared and runny. "You're going to take it up for me." 

"What?" 

"He won't suspect you!" 

"What about that theory where you're wrong and he isn't Kira?" Kirishima raised his eyebrows high enough to get impaled by his stupid hair. 

"Then no harm done," Katsuki said. 

"No." Kirishima looked at his watch. "I need to head back." 

"Would you just consider it?" 

"It's unethical." 

Sneaky as a louse slithering into your hair, Uraraka slipped into the room behind him and put a finger to her lips. 

Katsuki scoffed. "Fine, go back to work." 

As Kirishima turned for the door, Round Face kept at his back, pantomiming sneaky-ness with exaggerated tip toeing. 

And when he was gone, Uraraka saluted. "Haha! I'm great at stealth." 

Katsuki rolled his eyes and grabbed an eraser for the board. "Was there a point to that?" 

"Consider it an audition." She pointed at the notes Katsuki was erasing. "I was eavesdropping like a champ. Perfect for the job, right?" 

"And what's in it for you?" 

"Pride in helping my fellow man?" She grinned cheekily at him. 

He raised an eyebrow. 

"And maybe I want to expand my resume," she added. "Prove I can do more than just… float rubble." 

Katsuki snorted. "Now that I can work with." 

Uraraka whooped and slung an arm over his shoulder. "Now let's get out of here. Have you eaten? I haven't eaten-"

"Listen, Round Face-"

"I'm buying us lunch!" 

He had a feeling this might be a bad idea. But Katsuki would take what he could get.