Chapter Text
This is not what Katsuki Bakugo imagined it would be like to be a pro-hero. He imagined a graduation at the top of his class, an explosive debut, a supersonic rise to the top and a legion of reporters all lining up for him to tell all his doubters to suck his dick. Simple, humble fantasies. Instead, though he’d made a decent debut, and his actions during the war were certainly recognized, he found that it was quite hard to crack the top fifty list. Or the top one hundred.
Or two hundred.
Turns out that attitude does in fact go a long way.
He couldn’t really complain too much, a testament to how he had changed since his first year, though that was most certainly because he was still the highest rated of all his classmates, though Todoroki and Uraraka were catching up quite steadily. He had a steady job at the formerly named Might Tower, though after the war it had been renamed and retooled to deal with a wider range of crime and operation rather than grand showmanship. It had lost some of the luster in the public eye because of the loss of trust in the Commission following the end of the war, people still liked All Might, couldn’t get enough of him if the almost daily interview requests were any indication, but the tower also had been one of the Commission's shining jewels.
So yeah, maybe the rankings weren’t working out for him on account of every hero who hadn’t died or retired post-war maintaining their rank based on public loyalty for their actions, a loyalty that he would have liked extended to him but it’s already been established that he isn’t complaining. Just more of a challenge is all.
And maybe the job at Might Tower wasn’t everything he’d dreamed of, being that All Might had been retired for the last five years and it wasn’t even fucking named that anymore. It was fine, just gave him more of an incentive to climb the ranks and grow his reputation, once he opened his own agency then it’d be the number one hero agency in the country!
And maybe he was agitated because he’d been single for four years, hadn’t had the patience to get laid in two, and now had to sit here and watch Kaminari and Kirishima flirt with each other in their eightieth iteration of Gay Chicken, when all he wanted to do was finish submitting his thirtieth report and get the rest of the day over with.
But yeah, aside from that, everything was going good.
“Bro, you might wanna stop clenching your teeth like that.”
“Yeah Bakugo,” Kaminari leaned over his desk backwards, grin stretching his face and letting his tongue piercing shine in the light, “Your face is all you got going for ya, don’t wanna get wrinkles.”
It was a ringing endorsement of UA’s department mandated psychiatrists that Kaminari wasn’t spread across the wall yet, Bakugo clenching his eyes shut and breathing deeply and exhaling heavier, fists shaking as he tried to be polite.
“Kaminari get the fuck off my desk and shut the fuck up.”
Tried.
“Jeez man if you want me to do something then just say ple-”
Bakugo slammed his foot into the bottom of his desk and rocketed the whole thing two feet in the air, knocking over his computer and scattering his papers but also successfully bouncing Kaminari up and onto the floor, his chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of victory before he saw the papers out of order and unnumbered on the floor.
“Now look what you fuckin’ made me do.”
“Bakugo!”
He turned in his chair quickly, that voice still demanding attention and obedience. Three years of habit doesn’t erase that quickly.
“Yea Eraserhead?”
Eraserhead stalked rather than walked, his general mood had only grown more sullen and irritated since the end of the war and… that other event four years ago. They couldn’t really blame him, the man was down an eye and a leg, anyone would be kind of surly, but it didn’t affect their relationship with him anyway. He always seemed to be in a better mood when he was around his old class. When they weren’t doing anything wrong that is.
Which the three of them usually were.
“The three of you need to get in the conference room now, meeting in ten. Do not mess around.”
“Aye aye!” Kaminari saluted, heels clicking together with a spark that singed the floor. Eraserhead simply rolled his eyes and moved on. The three of them stood, Bakugo ignoring his disaster of a report to start walking towards the conference room, Kaminari and Kirishima rapidly taking up the rear and wasting no time trying to guess what could be happening.
“Must be a pretty big deal huh?” Kirishima asked, nudging Bakugo with his shoulder, “Haven’t seen everyone together in months, gotta be a reason they all brought us here right?”
“Probably, who cares? The meeting’s in ten minutes anyway, shut up till then.”
“Alright jeez, mister shitty mood. Not my fault your blue balls are making you mad.”
“You fuckin’ asshole.”
Truth be told, while Class 1-A, though they changed the name to 2-A, then 3-A to spare themselves confusion in said years, had formed an unbreakable bond as a result of what they’d been through, that didn’t mean that they all ended up at the same agency. Kaminari and Kirishima had followed Bakugo initially to make sure he was alright following everything, before deciding that they quite liked it at Might Tower, but everyone else had scattered across districts in the two years since they’d graduated. Some went to agencies, some went underground, but everyone stayed in contact as best they could. The problem was when it came to actually meeting up; differing schedules, mission loads and plain exhaustion made it so that it was rare that all twenty of them were able to meet together more than once every four months. Bakugo didn’t mind it, loud as he was he liked his solitude, but the more social butterflies like Mina and Tooru hated it, said it made them feel like their social charms were withering from disuse. Which one, gross whatever that means, and two, that was just something they had to get used to, it couldn’t be like it had at the dorms, where every minute you were tripping over someone and being bombarded with how their day was, things were different out in the real world. Bakugo didn’t know if he could take that much socializing again, it wasn’t good for his temper.
But regardless, whatever it was that was going on was clearly important enough to grab them from all ends of the country, Hagakure and Shinsou being snatched back from active missions to be sure they were at the meet. They were all glad for the opportunity to see each other, but still, they’d be lying if they said that they weren’t nervous.
All twenty of them had gathered in the conference room, exchanging quiet greetings and small catch-ups, but all the chatter stopped the instant that Eraserhead and All Might walked in the room, the two of them still inspiring childlike awe in all of them, even now after being able to call them co-workers. Their faces though were grim, All Might hadn’t smiled in a while, but the frown on his face was definitely a new sight, set in the way someone gets when they need to deliver bad news, like a doctor saying the cancer has spread. The room collectively forgot to breathe until he reached the front of the room and nodded his head in greeting.
“Hello everyone, thank you for meeting here.” The corners of his mouth lifted, a larger smile than they’d seen in months. “Though the circumstances aren’t perfect, I am happy to see all of you in one place, healthy and successful. It gives me pride as a hero and as a teacher to see the heroes you have grown into.”
They felt their collective moods lift, even Bakugo, the praise of the former number one was still something that they all chased, even now. It made the rest of the pills of the night that much easier to swallow.
“We didn’t gather you here for a social visit,” Eraserhead grunted, “The Commission has requested that a taskforce be formed and your assistance given with its mission. Details will not be given to anyone who does not agree to join beforehand, so if you have any misgivings, I suggest you get up and leave now. I will understand and smooth it over with the higher ups if you decide to do so.”
Despite the assurance, no one really wanted to deny the Commission of anything, they may have goodwill from the war but that could only extend so far. Besides, if their assistance was specifically requested, then surely it must be important, the Commission doesn’t request heroes for no reason after all. Eraserhead looked around the room, seeing his former class uncertain, but seated, none moving for the door, and nodded his head.
“Very well, from now on all of you are members of Taskforce Yurei, I expect your full cooperation from now on.”
They startled at the name, Bakugo letting out a curse before they were silenced by Eraserhead raising his hand.
“Leave your questions until after the briefing. This specific taskforce has been formed because there had been a rash of serial killings across the city, ten a week at least and climbing. The police force is understaffed and the top heroes are still working to maintain public order and increase trust in the Commission, so until now the resources haven’t been available to tackle this problem.”
“How long’s it been happening?”
He sighed at the interruption, not surprised to see it was Kaminari. Though he couldn’t blame him too much in this case. “Four months at least. The killings seem to be the work of at least fifteen different killers, but we’re not ruling out more. For now the directive is to investigate, profile and capture any killers roaming the streets and prevent the loss of human life. The current time allotment given to the taskforce is six months, with extensions dependent on results. Any questions?”
Jirou raised her hand. “Why us? Surely there’s heroes more suited to this sort of thing, three quarters of us aren’t even underground heroes.”
Tokoyami nodded. “Even those of us that are underground are more experienced with drug trafficking and quirk smuggling, a darkness such as this is… unusual for us to come across.”
“You’ve been chosen because of your achievements in the war and afterwards, underground or not, all of you were part of the top class of the top school in the country, do not think that your levels of experience matter much when compared to what we know you are capable of. All of you have the smarts, the dedication and the drive to get results in this investigation. You are also lower ranked heroes, meaning that your involvement won’t gather too much interest in the public eye and prevent a panic.”
Bakugo snorted bitterly, every eye turning to him as he leaned back with his arms crossed. “Sure it’s not because of our personal experience?”
The mood in the room dropped fast, everyone shifting awkwardly in their seats as they looked to Eraserhead for answers, even the man himself having a look of grief and frustration on his face. All Might stood to the back, but one didn’t have to look closely to know that his face looked much the same.
“That was also a factor, yes. Your experience during the war and… afterward showed that you have come into contact with people like this before and may have an insight into how they work. I personally did not agree with this assessment, I believe your skills speak for themselves, but it was a consideration in your selection. Any other questions?”
“What sort of information has already been gathered?” Yaoyorozu asked next to Uraraka, “Surely they must have made some amount of progress before this?”
He shook his head, sighing loudly, “The furthest they got was victim profiles, and even those are likely out of date. What is going to be needed is fresh eyes and experienced profiling.”
“But… sir none of us are experienced profilers.”
“Yes, well… that brings me to the next point of this briefing.” No one in the room could really say for sure what the expression on his face was, resignation, anger, sadness? Some mixture of the three? It should have prepared them for what he told them next, but it did not. “I was informed an hour ago that the Hero Commission has reached out to Midoriya Izuku for his assistance in this case.”
The expected reaction to this information would have been jumping, shouting, screaming from the rooftops, but as it was everyone instead went silent, deathly so. That was a name that was still raw in their memories, a source of deep hurt that they didn’t think would ever go away but one that they’d accepted would fester in them for the rest of their lives. They certainly weren’t expecting the wound to be opened up entirely again.
“Why would they think he could be a profiler?” Shinsou asked, “From what I can remember he didn’t have an interest in psychology or forensics or… anything like that really.”
“That’s apparently changed quite a bit. He’s browbeaten the Commission in the past into letting him look over files, and has gotten good results. Good enough that they are going to him first this time. And they are willing to negotiate.” Eraserhead grit his teeth, pushing the words out like they disgusted him. “He’s requested Bakugo to deliver the files.”
That got the room to make some noise, a furious storm all hovering around the eye, like they were trying to protect Bakugo from the very idea of it all. He remained completely silent however, his hands clenching and unclenching the only tell that he was decidedly not ok.
“I’m not doing it.”
“This is unfortunately non-negotiable,” Eraserhead said, no shortage of sympathy on his face, “The Commission has made it clear that they believe that this taskforce hinges on his involvement, without his insight they are not confident that we will get results that justify the budget, and are willing to shutter the entire investigation within two months rather than six. Confident as I am in your abilities, I do not foresee a capture within two months.”
“So what? I have to go see that psycho and play nice?”
“They are not expecting you to play nice, neither is he apparently, but they do expect you to be there. I am sorry, I argued otherwise, but that is their decision.”
All Might stepped forward, placing his hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and doing his best to muster up a smile. “If anyone can get him to cooperate, it is you, my boy. Though your connection may hurt, you can use it to do some good here. I believe in you.”
Bakugo scoffed, though pointedly did not shake All Might’s hand off. He closed his eyes, aware of Kaminari and Kirishima staring holes into the back of his head, willing himself to push his emotions down and do what his job required. Just another challenge, that’s all.
“Alright, fuck it. I’ll do it.”
“Bro, you don’t have to-”
“I said I’m doing it, and that’s that,” He snapped, “Don’t fuckin’ question me. I’ll deliver his reports and listen to his stupid fuckin’ demands and come home, easy.”
Eraserhead clicked his tongue, staring straight at him. “I would suggest not approaching him with bravado, he’s changed since you last met.”
“No shit, he’s been in a cell for the last four years, was he supposed to end up being more normal?”
“No, but he’s gotten smarter, dangerously so. His neighbors have been nothing but murderers and sociopaths, a decent number of which he put away personally, so his socialization has… shifted somewhat.”
Bakugo curled his lip, but couldn’t deny the way that his chest stuttered at the news. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying either you walk in there with your guard up, or there’s a chance you don’t walk out at all.”
The bridge to Tartarus Maximum Security Prison took about ten minutes to drive across, twenty if you were driving in Kirishima’s shitmobile, walking or running it would be both wholly inefficient and, if you were a prisoner, suicidal due to the shoot on sight rules. The island was surrounded by five kilometers of nothing but open water, concrete and steel walls rising into the sky so highly that the guards who worked on the surface only felt the sun for three hours a day. The containment levels dug deep, each one separated by eighty meters of solid, reinforced concrete, armed guards with the authority to kill patrolling with iron gazes and zero tolerance. It had held All For One, currently held ReDestro, Overhaul, Toga Himiko and countless other Villains, an impenetrable fortress that once you entered, you were never leaving.
And today, Bakugo was being asked to walk in there willingly, to meet the psycho who crashed his entire world down four years ago.
“You doing alright?”
Bakugo waved off Kirishima’s concern, focusing on making sure his cuffs were buttoned properly and the crease in his pants was even. He’d come in civilian clothing, all outside gear being prohibited to anyone except guards, and even though he was nowhere near the top of the rankings he’d be damned if he went anywhere on official Commission business dressed like a slob. His mother would never forgive him.
“Bro, Bakugo, come on man, look at me.” Kirishima reached a hand across to him, Bakugo flinching away from the finger that rested on his jugular. He opened his mouth to snarl before he saw the concern written all over Kirishima’s face. “Your heart’s racing like you’ve been running a marathon, you’re not alright!”
“So fuckin’ what?” Bakugo scoffed, “Commission needs me there, so I’ve gotta go there. Keep your car out here and I’ll be out in like twenty minutes, we can go get drunk after that.”
He sighed in disappointment, “Bakugo…” He snapped his head up as the car door opened, Bakugo stepping out like he was marching towards a firing squad. “Bakugo! Hey, come on, stop!”
Bakugo didn’t listen, flashing his badge and waiting for them to confirm his identity, the giant gates looming above him in a display of complete and terrifying power, the minutes ticking by as they ensured that he was mind, body and soul exactly who he claimed to be. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gates slid open with a deafening groan, his steps swallowed up by the noise as he walked deeper and deeper into the facility. The warden stepped forward to meet him, a stiff handshake exchanged before he started walking beside him, leading him through door after door, scan after scan on the way to the industrial elevator that made up the only way to enter or leave a given floor.
“We’ve been keeping him on the third level, I would prefer to keep him deeper, but on paper he’s been very well behaved, I can’t really justify my fears on the official paperwork. Despite everything, he is considered a model prisoner.”
Bakugo screwed his face up in confusion. “What fears?”
“Well, his quirk of course. Tremendous power, almost certainly would have great trouble keeping him contained if he decided to use it.”
A hand to his chest stopped the warden in his tracks, Bakugo looking the exact picture of alarmed when he turned towards him. “You mean he has access to his quirk? And you haven’t done anything about it?”
“We tried to do something about it! The quirk suppressing handcuffs shorted out when we put them on him, permanent confinement measures didn’t work because he broke the first set, after that we couldn’t find someone willing to put them on him.” The warden took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling heavily, “In the end he made a promise to me that he wouldn’t use the quirk anywhere within Tartarus without express permission from myself. It’s been four years and so far he’s kept his word, but it has been a stressful four years.”
“A promise?” Bakugo couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re taking that psycho at his word that he’s not gonna do anything? That’s it?”
“We also injected a monitor into his arm to keep track of his heart rate, just in case he started getting ideas about using it anyway. It’s pointless, his heart rate barely goes above seventy no matter what he’s doing.” His hand closed around Bakugo’s forearm, squeezing almost painfully. “I must insist that you not agitate him, for your safety and ours. He knows that if he makes one wrong move we will authorize a kill order, but he also knows that he’s faster than the guards. I do not wish to test it today.”
“Alright, shit.” Bakugo shook his hand off, trying to scrape the feeling of his hand from his skin. “Can you take me down there? So we can get this over with and I can forget this ever happened?”
The warden nodded, elevator doors closing behind them and starting the slow descent deep underground, the air starting to taste stale and overly recycled, the temperature low to the point of discomfort. This was a place that he’d heard horror stories about, a place that the mean kids on the playground said he’d end up in before he beat them into the ground and became the meaner kid, a place that he sometimes had nightmares about.
And apparently, it was barely able to contain Midoriya Izuku. He was suddenly very aware of his lack of gauntlets.
The elevator doors opened to a wall of noise, in the wake of a series of controversies and human rights investigations Tartarus was forced to relax some of their infamous rules, one of which being the zero tolerance policy on noise and talking. A decision that the guards had bemoaned ever since.
“Through here, he’s in one of the more private wings, less noisy.”
The curses and shouts that battered Bakugo made the most upset crowd he’d been in front of seem like his own personal fan club. He didn’t recognize many of them, but they certainly recognized him, and made no secret of what they would like to do to him and for how long. He normally wouldn’t be rattled, but the atmosphere in the cellblock was so thick you could almost chew on it. It was a very bad idea coming here.
The cell wing door opened after a series of keycard swipes and optic scans, the atmosphere somehow even more stifling just based on how much more quiet it was. There were six cells in the block, larger than the normal cells but with a distinct lack of privacy, the front wall replaced with high strength ballistic glass and brightly lit twenty four hours a day. The inmates here had been either forcibly placed there based on behavioural issues, concerns for their safety or, in Midoriya’s unusual case, personal request, not many willing or happy to give up what little privacy they had in exchange for a slightly larger cell.
Walking through, Bakugo craned his head around, but he couldn’t say he recognized most of the inmates in there. Cell number one held what looked to be the Shinjuku Arsonist who’d been caught last spring, cell number two had some sort of emitter quirk based around frost, number three a reptile mutant quirk chewing on a mix of metal and wood scraps, and number four… oh he recognized number four.
Mustard, who’d rather unsuccessfully attacked the school summer camp in their first year, then broke out of Tartarus and successfully attacked a convoy of aid workers deploying into Naruhata, killing twelve and injuring thirty five. He’d been recaptured quickly after, but the damage had been done. Bakugo always wished that Kendo and Tetsu kicked his head off that night.
Going by the smarmy grin coming across Mustard's face, it seemed like the recognition was mutual.
“Well well, if it isn’t the Future Number One… oh wait, I can’t remember, what number are you now? Turns out people stopped giving a shit once you left your rich kid school huh?”
“Mustard, surprised to see you alive in here, you always went down so easy. Guess that’s one way for you to make a living here though, that why you’re in a private cell? Need a place to rest your ass?”
“Mister Ground Zero, I need to insist you don’t agitate the prisoners,” The warden said, “Mustard is already in here because of a quirk incident…”
“He’s sayin’ I gassed half the ward and killed two prisoners, what do you think about that?”
Bakugo scoffed, “That all? Thought you’d managed to do something impressive this time. Same lame, small time shit you were always doing. You’re fuckin’ pathetic.”
“Fuck you!” Mustard screamed, getting close to the glass, “I have more talent than you or any of you other UA assholes, I fought for everything I have, so don’t tell me I-”
“Mustard.” The voice froze them all in their tracks, the reptile in cell three dropping his food and crawling into the corner, and Mustard? He looked scared. “We’ve talked about your behavioural issues and your need for confrontation, I understand that, but do I need to remind you that it’s annoying to have it interrupting my reading?”
Mustard almost dropped to his knees, shuffling backwards until he was on his bed and secure in the corner. “Y-yes Midoriya, I’m sorry! I lost my temper, I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright. Now can my guest come over and finally talk to me, or do I need to wait for you to be finished?”
“N-no sir, I’m done!” He looked at Bakugo, almost begging him to move on, something he was all too happy to do, but not without a fair amount of consternation. A series of beatings and some of the toughest, most pissed off heroes in the city hadn’t managed to shut him up, here it took a couple sentences.
He marched towards the last cell in the row, warden at his side and checking a screen in his hand with some amount of worry and confusion, each step sounding like thunder in the absence of noise. When he crossed the threshold he thought he’d see Midoriya standing there menacingly, maybe holding a cat like a supervillain, but instead he just saw him laying on his bed towards the back of the cell, eyes focused on a fashion magazine rather than the two guests in front of him. It almost made him feel like he was interrupting something.
“Have you seen Hawks’ Fall line Kacchan?” Midoriya asked, licking his finger before flipping the page, “Red was always his color, but the subtle yellows are really growing on me. Good thing his reputation’s been healed, it was a really boring two years when they weren’t releasing anything.”
“Can’t afford it on my salary,” Bakugo said, trying to absorb every detail of the man in front of him, not having seen even a picture in the last four years since his incarceration. The baby fat was gone from his face, even if his cheeks still looked soft, his hair the same length but somehow more controlled, he looked so similar to the seventeen year old he’d been when he went away, but so different at the same time. The prison jumpsuit wasn’t skin tight, but it also didn’t disguise the wide shoulders it hung from, rolled up to the elbows to show scarred forearms that tensed every time a page was turned, every movement efficient and controlled, even in its relaxation.
“Kacchan,” Midoriya said, “You’re staring. Miss me that much?”
“You fuckin’ wish,” He snapped, “I’m only here because the Commission said I had to be.”
“Oh, of course. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
He scowled, spitting out, “Yes you did.”
Midoriya snorted, turning the page boredly, “Yes, I did. The Commission is trying very hard to convince me this time, what do you think of that Kacchan?”
“I think that you’re a fuckin’ nutcase, and if they’re really as different as they say they are now they shouldn’t be working with you at all.”
Midoriya let his magazine flop down onto his chest, finally looking Bakugo in the eye with a mock frown. “Well that’s just rude. Four years and you’ve got nothing but insults for me?”
“What, you think I should come in here and gossip with you about the class like nothing happened?”
“Would be nice.” He brought the magazine back up, scanning until he found his place and continued reading. “How’s Shinsou, my replacement? Has he gotten over his hangups yet, or does he still flinch when strangers compliment him?”
“Don’t fuckin’ talk about him that way-”
“I’m not trying to be insulting, I’m genuinely concerned.” Their eyes met once more. “Should we talk about your hangups then? I’m very interested in how you’ve changed since we last met. That cologne you’re wearing is the same one that Kirishima got you for your birthday in our first year, have you finally started dating? Or are you still closed off to people emotionally, too afraid that you’ll see me in them?”
“Fuck off, that’s none of your business.” He didn’t need to know that the last time he’d had sex had been with Kirishima, and hadn’t advanced further specifically because the memory of Midoriya was too raw. No way was he letting that come out. “What are you a fuckin’ psychologist now?”
“Not licensed. I did get my PhD five months ago though,” Midoriya drawled, turning the magazine to see a spread, “I used Himiko as a case study.”
“You’re twenty one, how do you have a PhD?”
“I don’t know if you noticed Kacchan, but almost everyone around here is just begging to be analyzed, it’s a perfect study environment. Also it’s incredibly boring here, you need to find something to occupy the time, I even did a minor in Art History. Didn’t interest me as much.” He closed the magazine, dropping it to the side and sitting up in one smooth movement, staring at Bakugo from the cot. “What does interest me is why you’re here. The Commission is really so desperate for my help that they’ll insult all of you in the process, I’ll admit that did actually annoy me.”
“Since when do you care about what the class thinks?”
“I care a lot about what the class thinks, that’s why I was so sad when you turned your backs on me. No hard feelings, I’ve come to terms with it, but it was quite disappointing at the time.”
“Turned our ba-” Bakugo cut himself off with a disbelieving scoff, “You killed six people.”
“Allegedly Kacchan, it was never proven in a court of law.” Midoriya stood from the cot, walking closer to the glass smoothly, like a dancer. “I’ve never been proven to kill another person outside Tartarus, you can ask the warden.”
“Outside-” Bakugo turned to the warden, question in his eyes. “I thought you said he’d been a model prisoner?”
“We’ve never been able to prove any malicious intent, they’ve always been deemed self defence. Even if the defence has been… somewhat extreme.”
“How extreme?”
“Do you remember a man named Axer?” Midoriya asked, “He tried to kill us back at the USJ apparently, he remembered me and tried to finish the job I think… my second month here? I took his eyes.”
Bakugo felt sick, he said it like they were discussing the weather. “That counts as self defence?”
“In here, unfortunately, yes,” The warden said, “He’s never used his quirk, never thrown the first punch, and always surrendered calmly and quickly, we can’t prove anything else. Though we have our suspicions.”
“But suspicions don’t allow you to transfer me or take away my privileges, not since those human rights reports.” Midoriya swung his hand from side to side, moving his head like he was listening to music. “Really you only have yourselves to blame for that.”
“Fuck this,” Bakugo said, almost shoving the reports into the wardens chest, “Read the fuckin’ reports and do your little psycho deductions on them, I’ve got better places to be.”
“Not if you actually came here,” Midoriya said, leaning against the glass and making Bakugo’s skin crawl, “You could have told the Commission no, official orders be damned. Admit it, you were curious what I’d turned into.”
“I came because if I didn’t then you weren’t going to do your job.”
“I still might not. I told them to get you because I thought the look on your face would be funny, not because I was agreeing to give them my time. Fact is that it’s amusing how much they’re trying to butter me up. Do the reports have pictures warden?”
The warden looked inside one of the files, recoiling from what he saw. “Yes they do.”
“See?” Midoriya smirked. “Really trying to butter me up. It’s a little insulting actually, do they really think I’ll be persuaded by some reading material and seeing an old flame? Maybe if I was still fifteen, but we’re not the same people we were back then are we?”
“You might be,” Bakugo said, “You’re still obsessed with me.”
“Can you blame me? Our relationship was always so fascinating wasn’t it?” Midoriya sighed, a wistful smile on his face, “Was rocky for a few years there, but what a nice place we ended up in. You actually started letting people in for once.”
“And then you fucking killed six people.”
“Allegedly, Kacchan. Have you let anyone in since me, I mean, really let someone in? Kirishima was always willing to listen to you, but it’s just not the same is it? He doesn’t know you inside and out like I do, know what scares you and what drives you. Did he drop you off here? Is he waiting outside right now chewing his fingernails wishing that he could be here with you?” The gleam in his eyes was almost sickening. “I really like Kirishima, he’s so loyal. You should let him in, let him be the friend that he wants to be. I was so jealous our first year of high school because he broke through to you before I could, but it froze at a certain point didn’t it? Why can’t you just let your walls down around him, Kacchan?”
“Don’t fuckin’ psychoanalyse me!”
“I’m trying to help you. You’ve always been too self-sacrificing for your own good, too willing to put yourself in the hard position, it’s what I always admired about you. But at a certain point you have to stop taking every burden on your own shoulders, you have to let other people shoulder the load with you. Stop being the martyr.”
“I’m not a martyr!”
“Mmm, that’s why your teamwork was so good in high school wasn’t it? Why you told me not to save you at the summer camp? Why you didn’t listen when Kirishima definitely told you you didn’t have to do this? You could have brought him in with you, I never said that I wanted to see you on your own, I would have loved to have seen him too. Why did you think you had to do this on your own?” Midoriya slid his forearms above him, leaning forward with a tilt to his head. “They always said I was obsessive about you, but can you look me in the eye and tell me that there’s been a single day that’s gone by without you thinking about me? How many of your dreams have I been in Kacchan? Am I going to be visiting you tonight?”
Bakugo punched the ballistic glass, Midoriya not flinching back from where the fist connected in front of his face. “Fuck you! And fuck the Commission, how’s that for self-sacrificing? They can deal with your crazy ass themselves.”
“Ah, I forgot how defensive you get when confronted. Don’t take it out on Kirishima and Kaminari too much will you? They just want to help.”
“Don’t fuckin’ say their names ever again!” Bakugo turned away, already walking away from the cell. “You were right, this was a mistake coming back here. Hope it was worth it asshole, you’re not gonna see me again.”
“Oh it was worth it Kacchan, thank you so much!” If he’d turned around to see it, the smile would have frightened him. “See you soon! Say goodbye Mustard.”
“G-goodbye!”
Bakugo didn’t look in the cell, ignoring him completely as he passed by. The warden jogged up to his side, having deposited the files in Midoriya’s cell with a speed like he was discarding nuclear waste. They moved with urgency to the elevator, jeers and threats ignored and breaths held until the door slid shut behind them and they collapsed against the wall, hearts pounding.
“I’m sorry, I should have warned you properly how he can be,” The warden said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, “I wasn’t aware how deep your history ran.”
“We don’t have history, I was just a classmate of his,” Bakugo said, trying to will his breath to stop stuttering, “That’s how he always is? How the fuck is that a model prisoner?”
“I didn’t think he’d direct his… analysis towards you, he generally avoids doing that to staff members so I thought he would restrain himself when it came to you. Though… It's strange.”
“What?” Bakugo asked, straightening up, “What’s strange?”
“When he killed Axer his heartbeat never went above seventy two, quite steady. The entire time he was talking to you it was at ninety three.”
Bakugo slammed back his sixth shot of the last ten minutes, having thrown himself into Kirishima’s car and told him to drive directly to the nearest bar. Kaminari met them there, some tiny dive bar in Shinagawa that had three lightbulbs and looked like it would collapse if someone sneezed wrong. It was exactly what he needed to forget the last few hours of his life.
“Bro, you might want to slow down,” Kirishima said, reaching for Bakugo’s arm before thinking better of it, “Come on, let’s order a real drink, talk about some shit, it’ll be good.”
“I don’t need a real drink, I need to be drunk, and fast.”
Kaminari shook his head. “Come on, we’re not in high school anymore, stop ordering that shit and order something good. I’m paying!”
“You can pay for another shot.”
“Nevermind, unless you order a real drink I’m not paying anymore.”
“Wha-” Bakugo tried to scowl at him, but couldn’t really muster up the effort. “Whatever, get me something with rum in it.”
Kaminari’s face lit up with a smile, the same one that had won him some dedicated fans despite his low ranking. “You got it buddy, be back in a sec!”
“Like a fuckin’ puppy…” Bakugo grumbled, knocking the shot glass to the side with his finger, “And you, stop looking at me like that.”
Kirishima raised his hands, smiling slightly. “I’m not looking at you like anything, just wanna make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m fuckin’ fine…”
“Clearly,” He said, “Wanna tell me what happened?”
“No.”
“Alright, fair enough. You know I’m here if you want me to listen right?”
Why did you think you had to do this on your own?
Bakugo groaned, letting his head fall into his arms. “I… I know. I just don’t want to talk about it right now, that’s all.”
“But… you will if you want to?”
“Ugh… maybe.” He narrowed his eyes at Kirishima’s grin, pointing at him in warning. “Don’t make this a fuckin’ thing, I swear to god.”
“Make what a thing?” Kaminari asked, placing Bakugo’s drink in front of him.
“Nothing, I- What the fuck is this?” He asked, staring at the cocktail glass with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it, “I told you to get me a drink.”
“I did get you a drink!” Kaminari grinned. “It’s a daiquiri, I thought you could use a taste of the tropics to make you feel better!”
“It’ll make me feel better when I stick it up your ass and watch you shit it all over the ground.”
“First off, ew, second of all, try it! It’s got way more booze than the shots you were taking, honest!”
Bakugo rolled his eyes, taking the straw in hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Fine, if it’ll get you to shut-” His eyes widened for a moment, before his shoulders dropped in a defeated sigh. “Fuck you.”
He cackled, “It’s a gingerbread daiquiri too!” His fingers reached out and pinched Bakugo’s cheek, Kirishima amazed when they weren’t taking off with a bite. Especially when he pursed his lips and spoke like he was talking to a baby. “Because my sweet boy needs a sweet drink.”
Bakugo looked at him blankly, stare not breaking even as he sucked his cocktail up through the straw. “You realize when I’m sober I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass right?”
Kaminari snorted, the three of them relaxing back into their seats and enjoying their drinks, letting the time pass by in companionable silence. But it wasn’t long before the thoughts festering in the backs of their minds started to become more prominent, the silence becoming more loaded as they wondered how to address the clinically insane elephant in the room.
“Hey so uh…” Kaminari started, clumsily but trying to be delicate in his approach, “What was… How… What was Midoriya like?”
“Oh jesus don’t you fuckin’ start…”
“No come on man! You’re fucked up about something, and I don’t like seeing it! I just-” He sighed, looking to Kirishima for help but finding him just as helpless. “You can talk to us, you know? And… you’re not the only one who got messed up by what he did…”
Bakugo was ready to argue, curses and dismissals easy to crest the tip of his tongue, before he looked up from his drink and saw the looks in their eyes, the open care and concern in both of them, the grief that he recognized whenever he thought about his old friend in the mirror. It stopped him short, Midoriya’s words coming to him unbidden.
Don’t take it out on Kirishima and Kaminari too much will you? They just want to help.
He grumbled to himself, trying to muster up some level of resistance but finally admitting that it was a losing battle. Maybe the drinks had done more to wear him down than he thought. “He’s fucking insane. Everyone around him was scared of him, the warden was scared of him. And when he looks at you… it’s like he knows everything about you.”
“Freaky…” Kirishima whispered.
“He knew you were waiting outside, knew you’d be the one to drop me off, tell me not to go in.” Kirishima looked almost sick, Kaminari’s eyes widening when Bakugo turned to him. “He knew you’d be here to try and make me feel better too. We haven’t seen him in four years and it’s like he’s been watching us.”
“But he’s still in prison, not out with us. He’s just playing mind games with you, that’s all.”
“Sure didn’t feel like it, looked like he was on vacation.” He took another sip of his drink, ginger and cinnamon warming his tongue pleasantly. “Got a PhD apparently, didn’t know they let you do that sort of shit in there. And was reading a fashion magazine, since when did that dweeb give a shit about fashion?”
“Midoriya ‘sleeps in a slogan shirt’ Izuku was reading a fashion magazine?” Kaminari snorted, “You sure they didn’t replace him with someone else as a prank?”
“Swear to god, he was asking me about Hawks’ fall clothes or some shit.”
“Ooo good taste.”
Bakugo shrugged, feeling like some of the weight had risen off his chest. “I dunno, it was fuckin’ weird seeing him. Stared at me the whole time too, must’ve blinked like five times. It’s like he grew balls at some point in the last four years.”
“I would assume the balls grew when he started killing people,” Kirishima snorted, “But whatever, you gave him the reports, the Commission can’t give you shit about that. They ask you to do something else, just tell them to screw off and find someone else, why should you be their personal messenger?”
“Fuckin’ right,” Bakugo leaned forward, clinking their glasses together and sinking back into his seat, “Fuck him and fuck the Commission, we can find those motherfuckers ourselves!”
Kirishima and Kaminari cheered, Kaminari taking a sip of his beer and Kirishima of his cranberry juice, easily lapsing into conversation and letting worries rest at the back of their minds, the next few hours passing in a blur of drinks, jokes and even more foolish laughter. By the time they decided to call it a night, Bakugo could hardly believe that he’d been worried in the first place.
“Alright, get his other arm…” Bakugo grunted, keeping Kaminari up on his two feet purely by supporting on his shoulder, his friend even dopier than usual owing to the amount of drinks he’d insisted he could handle, but very clearly couldn’t. “I said get his other arm asshole!”
Kirishima snorted, arms crossed as he stood by his car. “You’ve got this bro, I think I’d just get in the way. Maybe you two shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
“I’m fuckin’ fine! It’s nine volt here who can’t handle his drinks!” He dumped Kaminari against the side of Kirishima’s car, sighing when Kaminari slid down the windshield with a smile. “What are you a bug? Get in the car!”
“Mmmm,” Kaminari hummed, trying somehow to tuck himself into the car hood, “Carry me.”
“Carry-” Bakugo was interrupted by the ringing of his phone, groaning in frustration before he snapped his fingers at Kirishima, the only sober boy of the bunch laughing to himself while Bakugo answered his phone. “What is it?”
“Hello, is this Ground Zero?”
“Yeah, who is this?”
“This is Warden Kobayashi from Tartarus Prison, I’ve called to inform you that there’s been an incident and we need you to come here as soon as you can.”
Whatever drunkenness had been in Bakugo vanished quickly, Kirishima and Kaminari both seeing the change in his stance and finding their own good moods leaving just as quickly. He clutched the phone tight in his hand, trying to push words past the fog in his head, remembering what it was that Kirishima had told him only a few hours earlier.
“No, get the Commission to send someone else alright?” He snapped, “I gave you the files, my job is done, get someone else.”
“We can’t do that, with the current situation it’s very important that you be here! We don’t wish there to be another incident, your presence would do a lot of good in making sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Why? What happened?” He hissed, arms raising and slapping against his sides in frustration, “What’s so fuckin’ important that I’ve got to come to Tartarus at eleven at fuckin’ night?”
Whatever indignation he’d been feeling fell out underneath him with the rest of his stomach when he heard the reason.
“Mustard committed suicide twenty minutes ago. Midoriya has said he would like to talk.”
Kirishima had attempted to storm in with Bakugo, only relenting when Bakugo told him that Kaminari was still, at minimum, very drunk, and shouldn’t be left alone in the car while they confronted their serial killer former classmate. He did grab the warden and force him to promise that if something did happen to contact him as well as the guards, his tone far more threatening than usual, which got the message through nicely.
When Bakugo and the warden reached the third level again, the atmosphere was completely different, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The inmates who had earlier been harassing him had clearly heard who it was he was visiting, all of them wisely deciding that self-preservation was much more valuable than threatening a low level hero. They both preferred the threats to the silence it turned out.
The private ward had been emptied of inmates, Mustard’s former cell empty of the body but not the blood, pooling from wall to wall like a grotesque carpet, streak marks leading out into the hallway where he’d been dragged to the stretcher. The scent of iron was so strong he felt like he was being punched in the face with it, desperately trying not to swallow so it wouldn’t coat his mouth anymore than it already had. He walked past the cell, not willing to give it a second glance after the first, sure that once was enough for him to remember this for the next few months at least.
“Kacchan, you’re back,” Midoriya said from his spot on the floor, files spread out in front of him like a scrapbook, “I’m sorry Mustard was so rude before, and now he’s brought you back here again. Inconsiderate.”
“You killed him?” Bakugo asked, walking up to the glass and staring down at him, “He acts like a prick and… what, you kill him for that?”
“All I did was talk to him, I didn’t make him claw his own throat out, he was very enthusiastic about doing that himself.”
“Cut the shit, what’d you tell him?”
“Well we talked about his past, his trouble connecting with anyone and forming lasting friendships,” Midoriya said, boredly leaning back on his hands, “His persistent inability to take responsibility for his actions and how it led to him receiving a life sentence with not much of a life to show for it. He seemed quite emotional by the end, I think it really sunk into him just how much he’d wasted his life being bitter, so I told him that if he wanted to take charge of his life, then he should do it in the way only he would know how, to take his life into his hands and make amends for his actions.” Midoriya shrugged, hand out in an expression of ‘what can you do’. “Seems like he took the complete wrong message from what I told him. Not surprising really, he never could understand things properly. If he could, he wouldn't be in here.”
“Yeah?” Bakugo scowled, leaning against the glass with his shoulder. “Then why are you here if you’re so smart?”
Midoriya smiled up at him. “Why indeed?”
He rolled his eyes, trying to will the anger down into his chest. “You said you wanted to talk. What about?”
Midoriya slid the files closed, tucked away neatly the way they’d been organized. Sliding them to the side, he stood up and walked to the glass, looking proud when Bakugo didn’t flinch away. He stood in front of his old friend, bowing his head until it tapped the wall. “I wanted to say sorry, I didn’t mean to… upset you before, I was just so excited to see you that I forgot to keep control of myself. I hope we can still be friends.”
“We haven’t been friends for a long time,” Bakugo said, curling his lip in a scowl, “Stop fucking around with me.”
“I was being serious…” Midoriya pouted. “I don’t get many visitors, most of the time when I talk to people it’s… well, the other inmates, and you can imagine how thrilling that is. I didn’t mean to treat you like one of them Kacchan, you’re special to me after all.”
He elected to ignore that last part, latching on to another string of information. “You’ve had other visitors?”
“All Might came a few times near the beginning, same with mom before I told her to stop. It’s not worth seeing me if all it does is make her miserable.” His face fell in an expression of utter exhaustion. “Gentle comes and sees me every month. He insists on bringing all these books on etiquette and giving me lessons. Says it’s to ‘elevate’ me above everyone else here.”
Bakugo snorted, “Is that why you sound like a fuckin’ dork?”
“Yes. If you think it’s annoying hearing it, imagine what it’s like doing it.” He bumped his head against the glass, looking at him with a sideways smile. “That’s why I need you here. Someone who sounds more like a thug would balance things out nicely.”
“Suck my dick.”
“Oh, if you insist,” Midoriya purred, eyes hooded, “I wouldn’t say I’m out of practice but…”
“No, fuck you,” Bakugo said, stepping back from the glass, “I’m listening to Kirishima, I did my job, came here, now I’m gonna leave and forget I ever knew you. Let them find some other asshole to deal with your bullshit, you aren’t even taking the fuckin’ job…”
“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” Midoriya said, like it was obvious, “I’ve decided that I’ll take the job after all. So long as the Commission can meet a few conditions at least.”
He sighed, stepping forward again and screwing his face up in frustration. He couldn’t very well leave if Midoriya was cooperating. “Alright, fine. What are these conditions? You should be glad they’re giving you something to read.”
“I just feel I should be compensated for what the job really entails. Oh warden! Stop hiding around the corner there, I’d like you to be an official witness!” The warden scuttled over from where he’d been waiting by the block door, something resembling a smile greeting him. “There you are, please take notes of everything I say. I want it sent through to the Commission once we’re through and an answer given within the hour, understood?”
They both waited for the warden to fish out a pen and pad from his coat, Midoriya eyeing Bakugo almost ravenously until he cleared his throat and looked away. He couldn’t help but think that a cage was an appropriate thing for Midoriya to be in, he looked at everyone he could see like he was an animal and they were food, something that had been noted when they’d been in high school with some amusement, and was now looked at in hindsight with some concern. The click of the pen brought him back to the present, clearing his throat to get this night over with.
“Alright, so what do you want? Some more books? Some movies? A psych to finally work out what’s wrong with you?”
“My last psychiatrist quit three months ago Kacchan,” Midoriya laughed, small titters muffled through the glass, “Emotional issues, I shouldn’t say. No, I want something much easier to give me.”
Bakugo cocked his eyebrow. “And that is?”
“Well, I’d like to be officially set free, effective immediately.”
If they thought the cell block was quiet before, it paled in the face of complete silence that there was now. Bakugo felt his shoulder shake, a bead of sweat falling down the warden’s temple as he looked at him, concerned for a moment before Bakugo’s head fell back and he let the laughter rip free, a cackle that echoed off the walls and set everyone on edge. Midoriya looked amused at the sight, arms crossed and a wry smile on his face, waiting patiently for it to be over.
“You… you must be out of your fuckin’ mind,” Bakugo laughed, ready to walk out then and there, “You think they’ll just let a murderer roam free?”
“I’m very lucid right now Kacchan, thank you very much,” Midoriya huffed, “And why not? They pardoned Lady Nagant, and she actually murdered people. On their orders, but still.”
“Yeah, and you killed six people for no reason.”
“Allegedly Kacchan, that’s very important.”
“No, fuck allegedly,” He snapped, “We know you fuckin’ did it, you psycho, so stop pretending!”
“Well knowing something and proving it are completely different things, aren’t they?” Midoriya straightened up, the years he’d been away having unexpectedly put him almost on par with Bakugo in terms of height. “I was never given a trial, never saw a judge, just packed up and sent here. Warden, would you explain the Defence Against Crime Act, Section Five, Subsection Twelve?”
The warden cleared his throat, confused before he looked at Bakugo. “The law states that in the interest of public safety, in extenuating circumstances, any individual reasonably suspected of a serious crime can be incarcerated without expectation of trial or release. An attempt must be made to investigate claims of innocence-”
“But incarceration is permitted to continue.” Midoriya shrugged. “Sounds similar to Extraordinary Rendition, but I’m not here to debate the law, it says what it says. It was controversial when it was signed about ten years ago, but people forgot about it after that. The Commission had the public’s interest at heart after all.”
Bakugo in fact did not know about that particular law, and didn’t like the feeling it stirred up in him. Regardless, he still felt like things weren’t being explained to him. “So? What does that have to do with letting you out? Law seems pretty clear, why would they take it back?”
“Because Kacchan, what would happen if someone reminded people of the law? People don’t trust the Commission as much as they did ten years ago, there were almost riots last year weren’t there? And this same Commission is locking people away without a trial, without sufficient evidence?”
“You couldn’t prove your whereabouts during the murders.”
“You couldn’t prove them either, nor could you give a proper motive that would cover all the killings.”
“You were always fawning over reports of the killings.”
“Morbid interests aren’t a crime, if they were I’d have Tokoyami as a cellmate.”
“We knew you killed them because you were obsessed with me!”
“True, I was… am obsessed with you, but what does that prove? That I wanted them caught? Of course I did, so would anyone who’d just seen someone they cared about attacked. But what about the sixth victim? He wasn’t connected with them at all, no mutual acquaintances, no social circle overlap, hadn’t even stepped foot in that district until he died. What reason would I have to kill him? I was arrested and imprisoned because five of the six were connected to an attack on you, and because I was in the same district at the time.” He smirked. “Do you think a judge would have looked at that and said guilty? Do you think the public would accept that I, a hero who fought with distinction and helped end the War, would just murder six people for no reason? And even if they did, would they approve of skipping the legal process, like the Commission did when they ordered Nagant and Hawks to kill heroes and villains they deemed troublesome? I’m sure those were fun days you had to deal with when those reports leaked, weren’t they?”
Bakugo scrambled, trying to think of something to defuse this rapidly ticking bomb. “So how are you gonna let them know? This is a SuperMax prison, messages aren’t that easy to get out.”
“Well, you certainly came running just now, didn’t you? It’s easy to get messages out, you just need to know the right methods.” Midoriya drummed his fingers against the glass, grinning at the distress on the warden's face. “Just accept that the game’s in my favor.”
“This isn’t a fuckin’ game!”
“No? Then why’d you walk in here thinking you were going to win? Face it, if the Commission wants my help, then that is my number one condition. Or I could go through the whole process of revealing everything, sending evidence to the news, showing the evidence of them then suppressing the news, then reveal that the Commission is refusing to publicly acknowledge the serial killings that it seems have been going on for at least the last five or six months by my estimate. That doesn’t seem like an organization interested in public safety, does it?” He shrugged. “I’m walking out of here either way, all that changes is whether you get my help or you get more trouble. Tell them to make their choice and I’ll make mine.”
Bakugo took a deep breath, clenching his shaking hand into a fist and forcing himself to be calm. He wasn’t some weak kid who could be shaken by words, he wasn’t Mustard for fuck sake, and Midoriya wasn’t suddenly some fuckin’ super genius mega criminal. He had to just be the same weirdo he’d always known, somewhere in there, right?
“Why now? You clearly could’ve done this anytime in the last four years, why’d you wait this long?”
“There’s a lot of reasons really. I don’t like the Commission, I don’t like the things they’ve done, who they’ve hurt, I wanted to wait to drop this little bomb until it was obvious to everyone just how much they needed me.” He smiled, inclining his head towards Bakugo. “Admit it, you think it’s a little amusing at least. But mostly… I knew you were still mad at me.”
“Mad… at you?” Bakugo considered that to be a little bit of an understatement to the feelings you get when you find out your boyfriend had apparently become a multiple murderer and let himself be taken away with a smile without even waiting for you to get out of the hospital. “Of course I was fuckin’ mad at you, what the fuck? I’m still mad at you!”
“But not as much as you used to be?” Midoriya asked, looking vulnerable for the first time that day, “I really want to be friends with you still Kacchan, even if things have changed. I think that helping you… I think it could be a good opportunity to show you that I still care, don’t you?”
Despite himself, Bakugo found himself huffing a laugh. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy abou-”
“Don’t fuckin’ say it.” Bakugo covered his face with his hands, groaning into them for a concerning amount of time before he removed them, smoothing them through his hair and turning to the warden. “Fuck it, whatever. Tell the Commission.”
“I- You can’t be serious?”
“It’s pretty obvious he’s getting out anyway, may as well make sure that he can be useful when he does.” He stared at the warden, who just stared back at him, before he barked, “Well? Fuckin’ go tell them!”
“Mm-mm, not so fast,” Midoriya tutted, “That’s one condition. My second is to be officially listed as a Consultant for this taskforce, whatever silly name you’ve come up with for it, and for a weekly salary of three hundred thousand yen, paid directly by the Commission, not coming out of the task force budget.”
“That’s twice what I make a week, you fuck.”
“And third, don’t worry Kacchan it’s almost over, I want blanket immunity for any crimes alleged, committed or undiscovered in the last five years while I was both in and out of custody.”
“Five? You were arrested four years ago.”
“Yes, but I thought they might try something sneaky and try to get me for vigilantism for when I ran away from UA, remember that?”
“Oh yeah.” Bakugo nodded. “Smart, good thinking.”
“Thank you!” Midoriya’s face split with a grin, the first truly genuine one that Bakugo had seen today that hadn’t been preceded by him trying to pry his mind open. “Well warden? Chop chop, I’d prefer to be walking out the front door within twenty minutes.”
The warden ran off, almost slipping over in the still present blood trail before the door slid shut, leaving the two old friends alone once more. They both took the time to look at each other, really look at each other, trying to piece together the similarities between who they were and who they are now. A shocking amount of the pieces seemed to still be there.
“This is an insane plan that you’ve come up with by the way.”
“Don’t blame me, this wouldn’t have happened if the Commission knew how to properly ask for things. If they had’ve just gotten you or Eraserhead or someone from the old class to come here and ask for my help I would have gladly given it, would have done it from the cell too.” Midoriya scowled. “Maybe I’ve just spent too much time with Gentle, but I would at least expect some manners.”
“So this is… because they were rude?”
“Rude to all of you.” Midoriya said, missing the hitch in Bakugo’s breath, “They were smart enough not to insult me, but to just dismiss all of you like they did? Like you’re lesser than me? Lesser than them? They don’t get to do that. Nobody does.”
Before Bakugo could even begin to unpack all of that, the door slid open again and the warden ran in, breathless and red faced. “They… they approved release immediately, and your other conditions, but they said that it will take a day or two to organize a contract for blanket immunity…” He trailed off, face pinching in displeasure.
“And?” Midoriya leaned closer. “Is that all they said? Say it exactly.”
The warden looked like he’d swallowed razorblades. “...They apologize for any inconvenience…”
“Fantastic!” Midoriya chirped, walking to the door of his cell, “Well, open up, you can organize my belongings and send them to me once I have a permanent address. Isn’t this exciting Kacchan? Working together again, just like in school!”
The thought did have some sentimental allure, even if the current circumstances were fucked. “Just… don’t cause any trouble, alright? It’s gonna be hard enough to explain this to everyone else even with you on your best behaviour.”
“Of course Kacchan, wouldn’t dream of it.” He stepped out of the cell, breathing deeply and smiling up at the ceiling. “By the way, I need a place to stay tonight.”
Reality slammed into Bakugo’s chest rather abruptly. “FU-”
Kirishima tapped his finger on the steering wheel impatiently, he hadn’t heard from Bakugo in an hour and was starting to get antsy. He’d threatened the warden enough to be sure that he’d contact him if something went wrong, but what if something went really wrong? What if there was a mass hostage situation or something and no one could get a message out? What if Midoriya brainwashed everyone and was running the prison like a god, and Bakugo just walked in there without knowing it? Oh Jesus, and Kirishima had just let him walk in there without backup!
So caught in his downward spiral, Kirishima didn’t notice Bakugo walking up to the car until his hand pounded against the window, making Kirishima jump and Kaminari wake from his drunken slumber. The two of them took a moment to catch their breaths, before Kirishima wound down the window and sighed in relief.
“Bro, I’m glad you’re alright! Thought for a bit that maybe something happened you know?”
“Everything went fine, we’re getting his help with the case. But there’s… some complications.” Bakugo rubbed the back of his neck, uncharacteristically nervous for the first time in a long time. Kirishima wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I need you two not to freak out, alright?”
Kaminari yawned, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up. “What would we freak out about?”
“Hello!” Midoriya leaned out from behind Bakugo, smiling with his hand up in a wave. Kaminari screamed and slammed himself back into the other side of the backseat, while Kirishima activated his quirk and almost threw a punch before Bakugo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Bro, what the fuck?”
“He’s- He’s supposed to be in prison!”
“Yeah, no shit,” Bakugo said, “They let him out, now he’s working with us. He promised he’s not going to start any shit.”
“And you believe him?” Kirishima yelled, eyes wide in disbelief, “He’s a serial killer!”
“Alleged.” They flinched back when Midoriya spoke, smile still on his face. “It’s really good to see you two, thank you for taking care of Kacchan for me while I was away.”
They nodded, not taking their eyes off him for a second as he took his place next to Bakugo, their friend far too exhausted to be properly angry at this situation. That was something he could feel tomorrow, when the reality of everything smacked into his skull like a runaway train and he’d probably have to come up with an explanation to his landlord for why he’d blown up his entire apartment.
“Alright dumbshit,” He grunted, flicking Kirishima between the eyes, “Get in the back, I’m driving.”
“Bro, what?” Kirishima asked, trying valiantly to keep an eye on both of them at once, “No man, you’ve been drinking!”
“I’m mostly sober now, and unless you wanna drive with him next to you, or stick him in the back with Kaminari and have him behind you, you should probably get your ass back there.”
Kaminari raised his hand from where he was almost underneath the seat in the back. “I would prefer it if you came back here Kiri!”
“Aw that’s sweet,” Midoriya said, opening the passenger side door and slipping in, “Go back and snuggle Kiri, me and Kacchan can keep an eye out up front.”
Bakugo shook his head, stepping around Kirishima who had scrambled out of the door on instinct and almost smashed his face into the ground. He took his seat at the wheel, slamming the door shut and fixing Midoriya with an unimpressed stare. “You promised not to be a dick.”
“No, I promised not to start trouble,” He replied, jamming his thumb into the radio and smiling as the music started up, “You need to come up with clearer definitions.”
“Can’t believe prison made you more of a smartass…” Bakugo looked over his shoulder, Kirishima having gotten into the backseat and currently trying to coax a still half-drunk Kaminari off the ground. “Buckle up alright? Night’s fucked enough already, I don’t need any concussions on top of that!”
Kaminari held his thumb up, finally clipping his seatbelt shut and resolutely avoiding Midoriya’s eye contact. Kirishima did much the same, though he seemed to be pulled in three directions between his instinct as a hero to attack a threat, his instinct as a human to shrink away from obvious danger, and his instinct as a friend to be… somewhat happy to see Midoriya, in a strange and alien way that he couldn’t even hope to understand, even if he had infinite therapists and equally as much free time. He settled for waving his hand awkwardly, it didn’t stop Midoriya from staring at them both but it did seem like it made him happier, which did somewhat put some hope in his chest that this might not end in disaster.
“So… Midoriya… What are you gonna… you know, do now that you’re out?”
“Oh you know, a little bit of this, and a little bit of that,” Midoriya giggled, leaning back in his seat and letting the wind rustle his hair, “Lots of people to see now. I think it’s gonna be fun.”
They tried to rouse another answer out of him, but it was clear that he was focusing on something else, chest rising and falling and a small smile on his face, arms crossed and looking truly relaxed in a way that they could barely remember even before he’d been arrested.
“Fuck it,” Bakugo said, shrugging as he put the car in gear and turned towards the bridge, putting the prison and all its memories behind them, “Let’s get out of here.”