Archive of Our Own

Whichever God it was that assigned Todoroki Shouto his family needs to call him again, he wants a refund.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his folks, he really, really does but he can't take it with Touya and Natsuo-nii butting heads with their father.

One would think he had developed some kinda immunity but his family always had these attributes that would show up randomly, patternless. He isn't sure if there's a rulebook to tolerating them in their unique, enormously disturbing shenanigans.

They somehow just keep getting creative with it.

And with all of them staying at Shouto's place for a traditional festival coming up, he's this close to losing his peace and kicking them, save for Fuyumi and his mom, out of the house if they didn't shut up to give him a peaceful night.

He's not sure if he wants to leave his office, maybe he could book a hotel room near that street restaurant that made fantastic cold soba or he'll just sleep here.

The offer is tempting. Todoroki is definitely giving it a thought, he looks at the stack of papers next to a golden plate that has, Pvt. Attorney Shouto Todoroki, on it in bold strokes of Kanji.

He should really take a vacation. Find a cat and a frightful-looking plant, pretend it's enough social interaction and not bother with the world.

"Todoroki-san?" Aoyama, his assistant, calls out with a knock on the door.

"Come in, Aoyama-san."

"Well?" he questions and after not finding an answer verbalized, Todoroki looks up from his paperwork to find the blond with a conflicting expression. Which is saying something considering he had a very, neutral face, shall we say?

"A letter has arrived for you and I wouldn't intervene but this seems private so I didn't read its contents."

"Who is it from?" Todoroki asks, eager to get away for the night.

"Izuku Midoriya," Aoyama says, handing the letter over.

Todoroki smiles and frowns, it's been a while since he's met Izuku.

The letter is put in a poor attachment, it's addressed to him in the front of the envelope and the back of it has— OPEN. URGENT. SOS. HELP. CODE RED, Todoroki blinks at the tone, dismisses Aoyama from his room before cleanly opening the letter, with three pages falling out and that isn't exactly long.

He had met Izuku initially fresh out of high school in a Summer Bootcamp for Soccer and then again at the central biannual comic fair.

It turned out they both had the same favourite in anime and he became one of the few people Todoroki didn't mind spending the whole day doing anything with. 

Todoroki kept his distance from whatever family business they had going on and Izuku surprisingly never prodded about it, having been good friends over the course of years.

To receive a long letter from Izuku isn't concerning because he did tend to ramble which never gets redundant because Izuku's head is a treasure of randomly assorted facts.

What concerned Todoroki is the message at the back of the envelope, and the fact that Izuku had sent it to his office rather than his home address.

He takes the first page and is a little peeved to find it starting out as:

Dear Todoroki, I hope this letter finds you well because it leaves me on a nervous wreck. Well, how do I say this as nicely as possible? I am monumentally fucked deep in an uncomfortable situation, well, really, it actually started three years ago—

Todoroki takes a deep breath. Yeah, this sounded like something that would take a long slot of his time. He had been waiting for a break anyhow, he shrugged, might as well.

He begins reading.

Izuku's early morning walks sometimes turn out to be more eventful than expected. Last year, he had purchased a lottery ticket and by the luck of some good thing he had done, he had won.

The consolatory prize that is.

Which is a five day trip to Northern Morocco.

Izuku had saved it for this very moment, he had put out a general notice that his convenience store is going to be closed for nearly a week, he is done with paying his educational debts, and is by normal standards long overdue for a vacation with his white cat, Kenzo.

The instalment debts on his store remain and that had deterred him but Izuku's mom convinced him that he really needed this. 'Dead men can't pay bills, Izuku,' she had told him and that had been the end of their argument.

So when he is having a little rest from the brisk walking, he smiles. It feels too good. He takes a moment to breathe in the morning breeze, it's still a bit too dark here in the wee hours of the morning. Izuku reviews his phone for the checklist he had made, mentally ticking them off, he still had to buy cat food for Kenzo.

He switches his phone off and takes another glance at the trees, he likes the vibe here too much to just start walking. He bargains with himself to spend a few minutes before starting his jog back to his apartment and snuggles into the collar of his hoodie, it has a Doraemon sticker on its arm, one that his mom had accidentally stuck and it still stubbornly refuses to come out. He tries to take it out in vain but is stopped when a brunette comes his way.

Later, he'd contend that he would have stayed home the entire day if he knew what would happen.

He couldn't tell really, light is literally the least available thing but he does know that she sits next to him. His stranger-danger senses start sounding like a police siren and that's really a childhood thing, Izuku quietens it down. He decides he's about the get up when the woman says, "keep this safe, Setsuna, I'll come over later and collect, the red collars are on the block, I think Frops is upfront."

Izuku makes a squeak but the woman is already gone, he stares at the box and thinks— this isn't any of my business, I'm just gonna leave this here, which is logical, to say the least cause that thing looks like an innocently small parcel of brown that never has anything good in its contents and Lord knows they don't need another Pandora incident.

Okay, cool, that's fair enough, another part of him says, the one responsible for most of his executive functions performed under stress and nervous thoughts, but what if this person finds you without them?

Izuku pinches his lips lightly with his teeth, retorting, what if they find me with it? If he's gonna be honest red collars evoke an odd emotion similar to when he sees news relevant to the local yakuza. God, what had he involved himself with? Izuku takes the damned parcel and makes it to where his bike is parked. He takes the parcel and just puts it securely on the backseat, the entire time he feels like he's doing a grave error.

Why don't you just hand it over to the police? Another part of him suggests and it satisfies all parts of him. Kuneida Police Station is close by, he'll just drop it, finish the formalities, get going with his life. It's unreal to Izuku, how far that last step seems.

Like a ticking bomb, everything goes well. He drives his cycle past men in black suits, they have a red classic collar in their suits and his trepidation worsens when the lights change from green to red. The Kuneida road is always under traffic at whichever ungodly hour, right now must be the time for mostly drunk people returning from the red light street nearby, besides it had been the weekend. He is uncomfortably close but decides to weed his way through as casually as possible.

Okay, Zuku, he tells himself, slow, slow like a caterpillar, just pass by them, you aren't doing a crime, think of Katsudon, think of rich, tasty Katsudon.

He reaches one of the multiple entrances to the park and everything is going just his way, which indicates the absolute disaster that was going to happen next.

"Get your hands off me, you asshole!" The brunette yells in the face of the red-haired fellow holding her down, and Izuku has a moment to prepare himself before she sees him, recognises the ruckus of Doraemon sticker on the sleeve of his right arm and calls out, "You! With the Doraemon hoodie! Give that back!"

There's a moment of distraction and that's all she needs to knock the back of her head to the red-haired dude's jaw, hard. She squirrels her way past his grip and rolls over the front of a car to Izuku, leading everyone else to Izuku. Even without seeing the glint of the knife she has out for stabbing him, Izuku very easily just hands her the parcel catching her off-guard.

"I was going to tell you that you caught the wrong person, but you ran away," he quickly inserts, before rambling on, charging all his nervous gaze on that really inviting knife, "I was going to the police station to hand it over. Please don't hurt me."

She stops, blinks at him then the parcel, unharmed, but the obvious noise of the people after her knocks her out of it. In the next moment, she pulls out a gun and Izuku's mind is much more cautious when she points it to the red-haired fellow from earlier. The tension between these two is pretty thick, they seem to know each other and if they had been on the screen of a television, Izuku would have popcorn with keen interest.

Instead, he silently wades his way away, but he's still close enough to hear the red-haired saying something along the lines of:

"Hey come on now, Uraraka, sweetheart, you don't want to shoot me," and the next moment, a gunshot is fired almost out of petty defiance.

Yeah, Uraraka-san doesn't care. Not one bit. At all.

He feels a weight on the backseat and immediately tenses.

"Look, I'm not searching for trouble please leave—"

"Too bad that you've attracted tons of it now, those guys aren't going let me off-hook and now they won't let you either." She states, waving him to make most of the red signal.

If you think Izuku is about to argue with a woman who just shot someone, then you've got your lobes set wrong.

People in red collars start flocking to them and Izuku already knows he's deep in this trench, he wriggles past the waiting cars that pay witness to the mad chase, he keeps a keen eye on the traffic lights. Bikes aren't faster on a green light, they are really only efficient in squeaking their way past the heavy traffic at rush hour and saving time.

Apparently, it had been a mistake to think that the red collar people are only by the park entrance, Izuku is almost crushed by a few jeep wranglers before he hauls his bike, past the still-red lights. The lady at his back though does her bit by shooting the tyres and when a car goes flying past, Izuku reconsiders the number of felonies he's committing as he enters the tunnel.

"Shit, they've got us cornered," Uraraka bites out, talking into her phone, "fuck. Fuck. Setsu, I don't think we can get out in time, can you get Froppy out and contact Toga for Hawks? I know, I know, do it anyway, trust me."

Izuku, who is apparently a part of 'we' stares up on the road. There's no way they can make it out with the end of the tunnel being blocked. They shoot and almost hit him but the impact of it has Izuku taking the wrong turn, losing his grip to the thought of— huh, today was the wrong day to wear a black hoodie with a Doraemon sticker, and getting thrown on the concrete road.

Before he knew it, he had been knocked out stone cold.

The next he wakes up is in a relatively nice room, you know the driftwood table with this crystal clear glass, there's a fantabulous painting of The Great Wave, Izuku thinks it might be the original Hokusai but he isn't too sure. Then, there's obviously the high-quality rope they've used to tie him to this chair that Izuku has a little clue to get out of.

In a little distance, the brunette with him who stirs awake is lying on the other chair, Uraraka squints her head to the surrounding, a realisation dawns on her and she bangs her head back on the table in a groan.

"Fuck."

Well fuck, indeed.

"Hey, I'm sorry I got you in the mess," Uraraka apologises kindly enough, "I'll promise I'll get you out of here."

"How?" Izuku asks, on the verge of a mechanical failure in his mind, cause sure as hell he can't wrap his head around this whole situation.

He's supposed to be feeding his cat goddamnit!

"If we're lucky, we're just in the cellar of some hotel, and I think I can get us out of here," Uraraka says, "but if we're in the Base, well, things might get a little twisted."

"A little?"

She winces, "yeah, maybe a lot, it'd be great if we last an hour without damages."

"Who are you? Why did you even give me that package?"

"Look, the less you know the better, I just mistook you for someone else," the brunette says urgently when they hear resounding footsteps, "Anyhow, they'll be coming any moment now, and I can't get out with them around, but if you can distract them—"

Izuku stares baffled, "Doing what exactly?"

"You could tackle them—"

"Hey, hey, s-slow down," Izuku beeps off, with a nervous strain on his neck that vigorously shaking, "I'm a lover, not a fighter!" he sputters out.

"Besides, how do—"

"Well, lover boy," Uraraka says pointedly, "you're stuck in this for the better or worse," she presses her lips nervously, "it's— isn't fair I know, even if you say the truth, they caught you with me. Those guys will not hesitate to break your kneecaps if you so little as give them a reason to do it."

"Uhuh, just like you shot the red-head guy?"

Her face hardens, "that's personal," like Izuku wouldn't have figured that out, "besides, the point is that you distract them and I can get us out of here."

"And I am supposed to walk blindly on faith?" Izuku poses forward and the urgency shows through her eyes.

"Yes."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Distract them that is," He asked because he'd need a thesis level explanation before going through this procedure. Maybe, this is just one of those crazy things that happen in life and he'd end up in and would laugh about a decade later.

He thinks about his trip to Morocco, that plane is due the next morning and no way in hell is he missing it on the excuse of something like this. He's been waiting too long on this so if he really wanted to catch that flight he's gonna have to buckle up.

"Just be creative, Kaminari and Kirishima might be really smart but they can also be dumb as shit, use it," Uraraka states.

"Wait," Izuku says, "I have an appointment in the morning, can you promise to get us out before that?"

"Yes, definitely," that's the end of their conversation because the door opens and her head is back on the table, leaving the seeming pretence of her still being knocked out intact in the air.

There's a blond and a red-haired guy from earlier.

"Really, Kiri," the blond snickered, swirling his glass of rum. "For all your risque histories, can't believe she straight up shot you and— oh, you're awake."

Izuku takes a deep breath, for Morocco, he says to himself and steels himself for whatever conversation that comes to him.

"I think she's still asleep," Kirishima says, checking on Uraraka, there's a little softness between his fingers when he moves her hair away but it's gone the moment Izuku sees it. He mentally compartmentalises that in the 'None of your business,' department in his head as the blond, possibly Kaminari, pulls up a chair to face him.

"Now, we have got a lot of talking to do, yeah?"

"Yes, we do," Izuku says, immediately.

Kaminari stalls a moment and Kirishima sits down to continue, "oh, uh, you've got something to talk about huh? Go ahead, we have time till boss comes over."

"I am a passing bystander, I don't know this woman, I have never seen her in my life before, I was doing my regular exercise in the park, she gave me a brown parcel, mistaking my identity and I thought I'd turn it into the Kuneida police department, I have been accidentally roped it into this, please let me leave." He says, with no breaks in between and as honest as he can be.

They stare at him, blinking for a couple of seconds.

"This parcel, huh?" Kaminari asks, twirling it and Izuku nods. "Hmm, let's say I believe you, why'd you not throw her off your bike, could have just gotten out if you really didn't know her?"

"This woman," Izuku points to the sleeping Uraraka, "shot you," he points to Kirishima, "right after you asked her not to shoot you, do you really think I, me— who has never been exposed to crime or blood, am going to throw her off when the gun is still in her hand?"

Kaminari opens his mouth to argue before he ends up considering it, he turns to Kirishima.

"He's got an excellent point though, your flavour in women has always been questionable, man, Kiri, everyone in this place needs therapy."

Kirishima is a little less convinced and much serious, "get Sero to check on this and ask Mina, how much time Boss is gonna take with dealing with the Mitsuhara's?"

Izuku thinks this is going to take more time than the morning that's going to come, he really needs to get them out of here. Alright, Miss, he thought to himself, I'm going to trust you one time.

"Can you please let me leave?" He requests.

"No can do until the boss comes, buddy, afraid you're stuck here until we verify your statements which," Kirishima smiles at him but it doesn't touch his eyes, and certainly doesn't comfort Izuku when he continues, "for your sake, I hope is true."

"Why don't you just take me to your boss instead?" which could also be an idiom for death but Izuku is past the point.

"Our boss has little patience for bullshit," Kaminari divulges, he's playing with this butterfly knife in a way that keeps Izuku's blood pressure up. "He might just go off with your head if he finds out you're lying you know. Modern Anne Boleyn style."

"I know," Izuku says, somewhere not appreciating the gratuitous humour, "I know who your boss is, and I wouldn't ever lie to him."

Congratulations Izuku Midoriya, you managed to speak a complete lie without stuttering, we should mark the date when we get out.

When? Another voice berates, How optimistic.

Kaminari gives him a strange look, "Oh, you wouldn't lie to him, and why is that? You know him, he's what— your friend?" He asks, entertained, taking a sip from his drink.

"I wouldn't lie to him because," Izuku's mind wrangles, and even after the years soaks down this memory in Izuku's head, he'll still be invariably doubtful if that day his head had self-persecution on its agenda for what comes out of his mouth next. Though , for what it's worth, it may have something to do with the fact that Kirishima saw Uraraka make a move and he was going to double-check.

Therefore, Izuku, in all his insane candour, says, "because I am in love with him."

Kaminari chokes on his drink and spits it out with less hesitation to the side. Kirishima's guard, stiff and rough as it had been, comes down in a smack. With both of them blatantly staring at him, it's comical to watch.

"Come again?"

Izuku takes a deeper breath, "I'm in love with him."

"With whom? Our boss? Katsuki Bakugou? That guy?" Kaminari clarifies.

And Izuku says yes, with next to no clue on who that guy really is.

"Are you sure?" is the next question and Izuku copes with the don't tell, show strategy where he'll just stare at the person until they make their own assumptions or further the conversation for a specific answer.

"How interesting," another voice states and they look at another blue-eyed blond at the doorway, "maybe they should take you to him, then you could see what kind of monster you've given your heart to. At least at this moment."

"Get out, Monoma," Kirishima voices out, not missing a beat.

"Well, I would," he grants, a dramatic wave of his hand, "if Bakugou-san assures me that the asset that pretty woman there stole is secured," he eyes Izuku with a grin, "but it seems like there's an interesting game going on here, you should bring it to the Halls, that brunette isn't due to waking up anytime soon and I am keen to see how this goes."

Kirishima's mouth screws shut and it sours as he considers.

"Lock the door, close the windows, install the thermal securities," he says at once to the pink-haired woman behind Monoma who come closer to him, "Uraraka has been under Himiko Toga for far too long to be considered harmless. Where's Hawks at?"

"Uh, he was still in L.A. the last time I checked," she accounts, "the last time was five hours ago."

The data suffices Kirishima, they take the ropes off and Izuku massages his wrists before being led away. He doesn't glance at Uraraka, doesn't look back when they shut the room's door and remotely has the belief that he's on a highway to the kind of Hell he wouldn't typically sign up for.

This place doesn't at all qualify for a Hotel so he must be at what is otherwise known as the base? He's still not sure what exactly is their profession, organised crime is the closest term that comes around but is that it?

Fuck, oh, fuck my life.

This place seems like it's underground, the carpet's rich, the walls are too long, Izuku can't see the end of it and that's disconcerting to his head's desire to know where are they going. He thinks about the Bakugou's. The name makes him feel like he should be aware of what they are or who they are but Izuku is only the owner of a convenience store caught in the wrong time in the wrong place

Kirishima stops at a door that's guarded with a few people.

"Sero, open the door."

"Uh," says the black-haired man said, "Boss said—"

"Believe us, Sero, we wouldn't willingly be here, Boss has to know about this," Kaminari says, jabbing a thumb at Izuku who is still to meet the person he's supposedly in love with.

Gods, this is terrible, why did he— Focus now, regret later, he cuts off, he might actually lose his life here if he does anything else and that's not something he can do to his cat and mother.

The door opens and there's a stench in the air, one that comes from a room that's been closed for far too long. He'd open the windows a bit but then, this place, if it is underground, probably wouldn't have one. There are lights high up in the ceilings, and before they can step in, blood splatters on the floor and there's a white marble-like thing drenched in it.

That's before he realises those are teeth.

"Listen to me here," Izuku hears the blond say, his back is facing them but the fear in the man's face before him shows a great deal. "I am going to say this once, you are going to tell them to take their offers and choke on it before I come back," Izuku feels a chill cramp his spine, "and I fucking promise you, I will."

Izuku thinks he might have made an error, saying that he fell for a man whose name eludes him. Katsuki Bakugou, a part of him reminds himself but his point still stands effectively. He prays in his head for Uraraka to make it through quick enough cause this act isn't something he can keep up for long. His mind wanders, committing details of the room, trying to figure out information that'll come in handy later. He's a convenience store owner, he's always had to keep an eye out for shady customers, shoplifters and the sort, the habit comes naturally to him.

The blond turns, he's in all black, slacks and shirt, he has a harsh glare that's natural on his face and lovely eyes, the red in them runs deeper than the blood across his neck. He seems a little tired but he's got a dirtier soul that deserves it, hands gutted out and squeezing organs, sins and all. It's a poetic observation but Izuku tells himself that he is supposed to act in love with this man so maybe it helps to think that way.

Katsuki Bakugou keeps the bloody iron rod down by the table, he takes his gloves off, washes the stains with a wet towel before sitting down and finally, looks up to the lot of them with brows raising.

"What?"

There's a silence and Izuku thinks that this is because none of them know how to explain this situation, there's no easy way of saying— boss, the guy we caught with Uraraka, he kinda unrequitedly loves you apparently, really no way out there. Lucky for everyone present, Monoma takes the first step in and coughs out.

"Bakugou-san, you have been losing," he greets, sounds like a jeer. The sharpness his statement earns from everyone is alarming including Kaminari who doesn't seem jovial as he had been.

"That so?"

"We haven't invested in you for a toss-up, or maybe it's true what they're saying these days," Monoma remarks, awfully calm to the aggression he has committed and Izuku half-admires him for it.

"Maybe you're not at the top of your game anymore."

"Can you say that again?" Bakugou asks, he's more patient, not a good sign, Izuku knows because Kirishima tenses up. People are easy to read if you know what you're looking for. You know, this would be very much interesting if it had been sans me, he has bits and pieces of information that clocks in together at random and he's pretty sure he's not supposed to know any of it either.

"I need to know if you can be stupid enough to say it again."

Monoma takes a deep breath, Izuku thinks it's out of perseverance or maybe he is scared too. Well, Izuku would be if he had someone like that looking at him. "How is it that every time I come here," Monoma continues, looking around with a scrunch in his nose, "I lose the will to live a little more?"

"Well, you're not fucking dead," Bakugou replies, hotly disappointed, "guess we aren't trying hard enough."

"I hope the asset was recovered, my uncle regards you with respect for a deal made by your father and cursed as it is," he smiles, none of the smiles here reaches the eyes, "I am to waste our resources to what I consider an extravagant name for a lost cause."

"Is that all?" Bakugou asks.

Monoma stares before he turns to Izuku and is reminded of the reason he's here, a smirk overrides the distinct look of upset. "Well, then, since the world watches when the devil falls," he smiles, the hidden jibe doing wonders when Bakugou's eyes rest solely on him. Izuku would be careful, he looks like he'd kill him. "Good day, Bakugou-san," Monoma adds with a grin, "of which I am sure, you will have."

Bakugou watches him leave, he looks a little tired of the pretentious man and Izuku stiffens his spine as Kirishima opens his mouth to talk, to explain but loses himself to a gagged sound, "Yeah, boss, I'm gonna let Kaminari explain this one," he goes and sits on the table as quietly as possible.

The blond boss leans forward, takes a bottle off the table, filling his glass and Kaminari looks betrayed but goes on, "So we, uh, caught this guy with Uraraka, he says he's a normal bystander who got caught up and uh, he says that he wouldn't hurt you—" Kaminari licks his lips, measuring the chaos, "because he's in love with you."

Bakugou pauses the bending movement of the bottle, the guards around stare at Kaminari who sports a sensitive smile.

He glances at Izuku who is far too calm for the position he is in, and Izuku isn't the first to break away from the contact. If he looks to the corner of those red eyes, he might see the big wheel moving, questioning and concluding on what to do next, he doesn't exactly blame the guy, it's a pretty weird situation to wade your way through. With Bakugou, it feels like waiting for the eruption of a dormant volcano but he simply continues to pour his rum into the glass.

"What else?"

"Uraraka is still knocked out, we tapped into her phone—"

"It self-destructed?"

"She's got a lot of interesting contacts, I suppose," Kirishima winces.

Bakugou takes in his bandaged arm, snorts in derision, "she's got more trouble than she's worth is what it is."

Kirishima doesn't argue and honestly, neither does Izuku. The man whose teeth had been knocked out earlier is dragged out, the table looks cleaner and Izuku wonders if he can just leave now that the conversation doesn't involve him but the boss' attention comes to him at intervals, intervals where Izuku thinks he isn't looking.

"Sit down," Bakugou says, it's very much directed to him so he co-operates. "Anything you'd like?"

He must have been asking about the drinks and not truly mean it but Izuku's hungry stomach makes him say, "Katsudon, if you don't mind," if this is the last day he'll live, might as well make it off with some of his favourite food, Izuku wonders if some variation of his freeze response is triggered, he's usually much restless and under duress, he should be quaking at this point. Bakugou stares at him and Izuku stares back, watching his next move before the blond turns to Kaminari and asks him to visit the nearest restaurant.

Kaminari, of course, protests, "is that actually—" he shuts up when Bakugou gives him a look, he walks out with less than a grumble.

"Anything else there?"

"No, I am fine, thank you," Izuku says, respectfully, adjusting to the chair, his brain willfully ignores the blood he's surrounded by.

Bakugou takes a lit cigarette in one hand while the other touches the handle of a gun and it's interesting how both lead to injury. "So I shouldn't assume you wouldn't team up with Uraraka," he checks the bullets in his gun, it's loaded enough to make him raise his head, "because you want me to believe that you're in love with me?"

Izuku internally takes a deep breath, imagines what his answer would sound like if he was actually in love with him. "You don't have to believe me, I am in love with you, whether you believe it or not won't change it," he's courting death and watching Bakugou who seems to be amused, he's not that far off from his mark.

"Hmm," Bakugou says, "if that's the case, maybe we should play a game," a few bullets drop and tink against the table, rolling down to the ground and Izuku doesn't like the sound of it or the look on Bakugou's face when he raises his gun, its aim at the centre of Izuku's head in a game of Russian roulette, his feet curl up in trepidation, he won't actually do it, he tells himself, there's no way—

The shot is fired and it's empty, the noise rings in Izuku's ears with his breath still stabbed in some column of his throat. He blinks once, blinks another time, and Bakugou keeps the gun on the table, pushing to him, not breaking his gaze as if there's a little lie in Izuku's eye if you looked close enough. Kirishima tenses, "Boss, that—"

"Don't," Bakugou gave a two-finger wave and Izuku who has never held a scissor with an intention of harm stares at the gun with an otherworldly feeling. But see, Bakugou is right. There is a game afoot here but it's not the one most people see. Bakugou probably already knows Izuku is lying though, in all honesty, he would be surprised if anyone truly believed it.

Really what the blond is testing here is how far Izuku is willing to go for a lie's worth. Else he would have already been dead, left in some section of the sewers or wherever they kept the bodies.

Izuku takes the gun, willing himself to play the part, his aim rests on Bakugou who unlike him is used to the back of the barrel pointing at him, literally and figuratively. Izuku is halfway into pulling the trigger before realising he would rather die than doing it to someone he had fallen for, he retreats his arm.

"I can't hurt you," he says carefully, Bakugou opens his mouth but Izuku beats him to it, "and since you need me to go ahead anyway, I will," the end of the barrel rests in a distance from his own temples and Bakugou's eyes widen by a small variation.

Don't be the one, don't be the one, don't be the one, please don't be the one, Izuku chants in his head, praying that he's right when the trigger goes off. He is. He only shivers once before keeping the gun down on the wood.

"Please don't hurt me further, Bakugou-san," he requests, looking up to gauge their reactions, "I may love you but I respect myself enough to not be involved in things like this."

Kirishima is flabbergasted with an unhinged jaw and Izuku catches the surprise in Bakugou's face before he narrows his eyes. The silence is a little heavy now when Kaminari walks in with a bowl of Katsudon from the restaurant. He's perplexed by the tension hanging off the edge in the room and hesitantly offers the bowl to Izuku. Who opens it and decides to devote the world's attention to finishing his Katsudon. It's a surprise they've even made it this early but Izuku isn't complaining: he's hungry. With a soft itadakimasu, he gives thanks to the numerous deities working out there to keep his ass safe.

"Get out and wait outside, all of you," Bakugou says, Izuku keeps his eyes on his food, the familiar taste gives him comfort unlike the rest of the room that is now empty. He watches Izuku eat, before honestly asking, "What are you doing here?"

Izuku sticks his chopsticks into a particularly stubborn piece of pork cutlet, "I'm really an ordinary man, unrelated to everything going around here," he confesses and it comes out with a sigh, "and," he pauses to remind Bakugou in case he's forgotten, "I am in love with you."

"One of those sentences is a lie," Bakugou replies assuredly, "and you don't want to be there when I find out."

Izuku smiles, some part of him is too sure of it, he feels more in control and decides to switch their focus, "have you had food?"

It doesn't affect Bakugou, he has a scowl always put in place and Izuku wonders if this man even had a place where it comes off. It's none of his business but he chalks it up to the curiosities one has regarding others, no matter how awfully intimidating the other is.

"I haven't."

"You also look like you could use some sleep," Izuku points out as kindly as he can.

"And why would you care—" Bakugou stops himself, "right, you're in love with me, that's why," he says, voice sounding like a puzzle piece fitting in, "and exactly what is it that you love about me?"

Izuku hums, nervously mumbling under his breath, he actually didn't think this part through. In fact, he didn't think he would get to this point for that question to be asked so maybe there were many loopholes in this plan, to begin with.

That and he should really look into how's and why's of his brain-to-mouth filter when it's under strain.

"I don't know either," he says honestly, "I guess you can't help the people you love."

Bakugou stares at him, well-aware of the cock and bull story going on here but is slightly amused on what exactly prodded it to come to be like this. The past week has been a reign of terror, he's spent men and dear ones. His mother lies on a cot in some tucked away hospital room with his father and he's made sure no one knows about it. He almost lost Kirishima to a deal he hadn't thought out through. And, Monoma, for all his natural spark at being an annoyance, isn't wrong either, Bakugou is getting sloppy and people are picking up on it.

This business, this crime, this empire he lives by is also probably going to be the death of him too. There's not much he can do about it, he really had been born into it. Terrible poverty saw him reaching out quicker for a knife and gun than a pen and paper, his mother used to tell him that he'd be an excellent lawyer or investigator. Some luck must have jinxed it bad enough for him to be on the wrong side of the bar instead.

He doesn't look too deep into it, he wouldn't be here if he did, he's had to break spines and thrones to be here and there isn't a shell of regret born in him yet that can make him feel otherwise. Still, in all his blasted years, when a man in an 'Apron' printed upon hoodie with a hideous sticker on the arm waltzes in, he doesn't exactly credit Izuku initially for having the gall to blatantly lie to his face.

And he's lying for sure alright.

Bakugou has met his own twisted, depraved set of storytellers but this guy had to be the icing on the cake.

Really, he ought to either shoot or deal his problem away but he's a bit at crossroads, still duly confused, on what choice he's gonna make and he's never unsure. After that game of roulette, where he had emptied the whole gun of its bullets, he's a little more guarded about his decision.

Either this man here, for the worse, is an excellent spy from his enemies who really do seem like they are everywhere since most of Bakugou's problems aren't all flesh and blood or he is an ordinary man with a miserable stroke of luck, for the better, and is in love with him. This isn't a choice he wants to make but his mind is far in Rochester where his mother endures by the skin of the teeth. It prevents him from thinking straight and that's never done him good.

This war that has been happening from the years he had been a teenager, the drug and weaponry fighting had been going underground during the wars. It continued in blanketed scraps and support from the big corporations who had initially needed the permission of the local crime bosses to set up their businesses.

By all means, Bakugou is not looking for world domination. At a very young age when he was caught in bullet wounds, he realised that does more harm than it solves. Though he had been tempted many times to expand onto better properties, he didn't really go for it. His boats need a more stable harbour, the only other one on the map that is free for the deal, without crossing some line, is the one in Okinawa but the local bosses, related to the lines of the old Naha clan, are traditional.

When they stated their conditions, Bakugou immediately discarded them in favour of cementing his position in Musutafu.

Besides, that would immediately involve him and the Collars in the fight.

In the end, however, all those tries were for nought.

He had managed so long to stay out of the war in the East. Everything went to Hell when one of his boats had been shot down in the East China Sea. It's one thing to be minding your business, it's another to be silent when people are out there shitting on your power.

Bakugou is peaceful on purpose not harmless, never harmless, never that stupid, reckless boy who stood for nothing.

So then, the red collars as they had come to be called, became very swiftly part of their own bloody side in this damned fight. Monoma's parents had offered their support since they knew his father well, nepotism really does fuel you far doesn't it?

Hell is made of demons, and you're the devil who builds them, as you see, Bakugou-san, Monoma had said at their first meeting, Rome too wasn't built in a day but it sure did fall in one.

It would be fitting for the Devil to burn in Hellfire.

Now, however, they were considering withdrawing it because the recent death of a kingpin in the Phillippines is pinned on Bakugou's name. Quite simply that's a problem. Whether or not he actually killed the man is irrelevant. Those men down in Manila will cut and chew their throats regardless until it justifies their namesake.

They got his mom in a shootout near the harbours, Bakugou held her, saw the light go from her eyes, it's going to be fine, brat, on her lips before she was taken by the hospital men. It's like this, the crimes you do are suffered by those you love, he had always known that but he supposes that his rationality can go only that far. He's made a promise to himself, he's gonna hunt those fuckers down, brand them in his own design of torture. His hands are already scarred with the red that doesn't wash away with water; since he's already this deep into the dirt, might as well put his back into it and dig another league.

While he's at that, he needs to figure out a way, to think or carve a way through this mess but his mind strikes a blank. I just need more time, he says to himself, I just need—

"You don't have a lot of sunlight here," Izuku remarks, completely derailing the subject in Bakugou's head.

"What." He asks, gruffly.

"Just thought this is a pretty dark place."

"Given my line of work," Bakugou states, questioning how his patience hasn't conked off yet, "we aren't provided with many choices."

"I see. My mom says that plenty of sunlight gives a good company for work, regardless of what your line of work is," Izuku says, conversationally, his mother possibly meant that in terms he shouldn't spend all his days in his room reading and not in unlawful terms. She'd have a stroke if she knew where he was.

It sounds like something Bakugou's mother would say too, Mitsuki disliked visiting him here and she'd often choose open cafe's where you can see the skies from. Told Bakugou that he lives in a dark burrow like a bear, he had the foolish inclination to correct her that they lived in dens but it went away quickly.

"Do I look like the kind of man that needs good company?" Bakugou questions and Izuku pauses chewing, swallowing slowly before he looks at him, hard

"I don't mean to offend you," he starts off politely as most people about to offend start, "but I think everyone needs good company."

Bakugou looks at the gun at the centre of the table between them, flickers his gaze back to Izuku and it feels odd. Odd because there might just be a table between them but he's never felt this far from a person sitting right opposite to him.

"You say that," Bakugou points out, tasting the rum to his liking, "but you've already offended me by your reason of being here."

Izuku makes an indignant sound.

"You think it's offensive to be loved?"

"I think it's offensive to be lied to."

Izuku continues to eat, he doesn't pursue or defend himself, he wouldn't worry convincing if he had been in love with him so he continues to finish the last bit of rice. He hopes Uraraka hasn't left without him, the thought terrifies him, he isn't sure how he can single-handedly manoeuvre himself out of this place.

"You don't really know what's going on here, do you?" Bakugou asks, it sounds like a thoughtful musing, "you don't know how dangerous it is to be here, do you?"

Izuku sets his bowl aside, "are you giving me a reason to be on my guard?"

The blond tilts back, a smirk filling his lips, "If it was ever down, yes."

Izuku's ever-present smile chokes a little, a victory that Bakugou counts as he continues, "I wouldn't recommend being around me without guard anyhow," he pauses, smirk widening to show a swipe off his tongue over his canine, "especially since you're in love with me."

Code red goes off in all chambers of his lobes, this is worse than Izuku had ascribed it to be, as he works himself down from the panic within, Bakugou watches. Izuku looks a little less like a lab rat now to him. He appears just as normal. It brings that feeling along, that Bakugou could have been ordinary too, gotten a degree, met someone and had a few extras that looked like him. But hell, if he didn't love them all with all of his heart. It's heavy, the weight that feeling brings along, Bakugou half-refuses to believe that he's actually thinking something this stupid.

Lord, is he finally going soft? How laughable.

The other half, the more honest part says that for the last words of all the damned bastards he's killed, he might actually be a human in need of time. It's not like he's not lost enough, it's not like he's not seen through each body buried or lost half of his turf in the Gamblers' box in Shanghai only to earn double of it when all of Musutafu became his, he's lost enough to know that he might need to sit down for a bit. It's irrational not to.

"Do you recommend that to everyone you meet?" Izuku probes.

"Do you regularly go around falling in love with dangerous people?"

And for a moment there, Izuku catches himself before he spits out something sarcastic and simultaneously injurious as— yeah, it's a side hobby I suggest, positively therapeutic for busy Sunday mornings. That'll put one of his legs into the grave for sure.

"No."

"Then," Bakugou imagines, "you have my answer."

"I get the idea," Izuku says, "that you're being very patient," he hopes he can carry this conversation without it directly leading to his demise, it would be a sad world for everyone who knew him, especially himself, "it doesn't seem like something you would do."

"And what really do you know about me to say that?"

"That you're not a very patient man and you will not hesitate to break my kneecaps if the mood strikes you."

Bakugou laughs, sounds like something Uraraka would say, it's been a while since he's seen a certain round face. He looks back at Izuku, really looks at the horde of green he sports, he almost wants to touch it and is alarmed when that thought comes as a voice of reason like it's possibly the most logical thing to do.

His curiosity speaks itself out, "What seems like a thing I would do?" which is an interesting if not partly ridiculous thing to ask as a stranger who knows nothing about him, why are you doing this to yourself? Bakugou asks himself, what twisted sense of satisfaction do you get from seeing yourself su— he pushes those questions out, instead, plainly waits for an answer like a dog waits for food.

The softness in his voice makes Izuku concerned, his brows straighten out when he sees Bakugou. A little less guarded, those walls are still up, still guarding whatever human is on the other side. Somehow, Izuku thinks that if he reached his arm out, he might be able to graze a touch on the seams of it.

"You seem like you hurt people, Bakugou-san," Izuku says earnestly, he hesitates in continuing but Bakugou doesn't fill the lengthy silence, forcing him to think, you seem like you're the stories of the people you've hurt, and I am not sure how you've survived that, he frowns at the dense airs between them, compensating it out with a nervous laugh, he ruffles the back of his head, "I guess you don't think about it, I'm sorry I didn't mean to—"

"I do," comes the admission. Bakugou grips the arm of his chair to remain still, sinking into the palatial seat, preventing himself from giving in to the urge to get closer. "So you say, you're in love with me eh," he says, ignoring the limp stiffness that Izuku adapts in his spine.

"Show me."

Green eyes blink, they turn confused and for quite some time, remain like that. At first, Izuku thinks he's wrong, that he's misplacing the numbness on Bakugou's face but that look reminds him so much of a reflection that Izuku used to stare into, when he was a kid, it was into the bakery that had delicate, crumbly cupcakes on display but he knew his mother's purse wasn't tailored for it. When he was older, he was staring into glass-walled cafes that housed a group of friends. He'd always been on the other side when it comes to things he wants and that's the deal when you aren't born with privilege, he had thought he was used to it but humans don't stop craving for better things.

Especially when you don't stand a chance to have them.

He wants me to prove it? Even though he knows it's a lie? Why? Izuku questions in his head and the answer is more than immediate, why did you? And he sputters internally when the question leaves him filling blanks he hadn't seen before. Because sometimes, when you can't reach for the Heavens, you content yourself with tasting a halo instead, even if it howls a burn on your tongue. A piece of it instead of the whole to hum a reminder that there's something always missing.

"I apologise, Bakugou-san," Izuku says, in hard refusal, "I don't think I can— will do it."

At the change right in midsentence, Bakugou narrows his eyes, "Why?"

"I thought I had a choice to refuse."

"You might have," he agrees, leaning to his side, "but it's gone now."

"Bakugou-san, please—" he gulps subtly.

"Please," he says as timidly as he can without meeting the criminal in front of him in the eye, "just send me back into that room I woke up in until you finally find evidence that I have nothing to do with that woman."

"Don't make me repeat myself," Bakugou cuts Izuku off, "you know, I am not a patient man."

Izuku looks away, his neighbour and customers once jokingly remarked that his stubbornness might be the cause of his death and he's beginning to think they might have been onto something. Before he can talk himself some sense along the lines of his perversity being unnecessary as compared to the present threats to his life, Bakugou reaches out for the gun in the middle, erasing whatever line remains in between.

"You aren't afraid to take a bullet for me," Bakugou recollects, making sure it sounds as sheerly stupid as it means, "but you're afraid of seeing your love through?"

Afraid of seeing your lie through? Izuku hears in the drifted undertow, his lips flinch. He lets this go, there's blood in the water but if he does go ahead, this game they've been playing will prolong into something he isn't quite sure he'd forgive himself for. You need to be alive to not forgive yourself, a sensible part reminds but as it turns out stupidity and stubbornness are often synonymous.

"I'll just leave," Izuku gets off his chair, standing on his feet.

Bakugou sees him pushing the chair, heel turning away right before he hears a gun being loaded, the clicks and snaps in tow in its mechanisms. Izuku re-thinks the life events that have successfully rowed to this very point. It's a clear message, walk away from me and you'll have nothing to walk to.

"Or maybe," Bakugou asserts, "you consider yourself above me."

"That's not what—"

"Well," Bakugou snaps, "I am not hearing an answer."

Izuku glances at him, a myriad of complicated emotions playing at his face as he screws his lips shut. "Because that's a heartless thing to do, Bakugou-san."

Heartless thing to do, Bakugou repeats in his mind, hissing at its irony.

"Don't fuck with me," he asserts, aching to make him stay with words, this didn't have to get nasty but there's a thirst on his fingertips, and Izuku looks like a burn that'll last, he clenches his hand in a fist, "You put your heart on the line, the moment you walked through those doors so don't yap off on that bullshit."

Izuku stares at him and Bakugou has been a businessman for long enough to know when an incentive is required, and good for his cards that he's a very able businessman. Mentally, he pushes the bait on his table, he pushes forward an offer, "I'll let you go safe and unharmed if you do it."

There's a flicker of interest that passes in Izuku, and despite that, his grounds don't really shake, his stubbornness is a merited monster out of itself. But when Bakugou lies there on that upholstered chair, desperation thinly veiled, Izuku frowns at catching it, he wonders if that's it; if he's gone through something devastating enough.

And if you're getting out of here, isn't that a plus? A part of him rings in and suspicion chimes on its coattails, about getting out here, he thinks but pushes the unfinished thought into the back of his head.

The matter on hand required him for more important tasks. If he was in love with him which honestly is the biggest if he's seen in his life for a long while, would he do this then?

Well, either way, since it's come to this, Izuku imagines that seeing his lover this tired would worry himself. So, yes, he would. He heaves a breath and anchors his footsteps on it, slowly releasing it the closer he got to the man. This is so incongruous, how did he get here?

"Are you sure?" Izuku says and the blond nods, numbly but still curious.

Bakugou's line of sight traces Izuku's movement, the way his knees cross over his lap as he sits down on it, facing Bakugou who puts imaginative restraints on his hands from moving and pulling him closer. A pout stirs into Izuku's face, he reaches out for the pockets of his black hoodie. Bakugou thinks, maybe this was a stupid idea, maybe this guy actually is a spy from his numerous enemies and he's gonna remove a blade to stab him nine times. 

Izuku fishes a handkerchief out, softly pushing it up to wipe a spot of blood that the water had failed to remove from his jaw. He must have spotted the little opening below his neck, peeping out from the red collar.

"You have a lot of scars, huh."

Bakugou looks at the litter of marks on Izuku's arms, "you too."

"Oh, these are just papercuts and carelessness," Izuku dismisses with a little chuckle. He looks adorable, and Bakugou thinks that's not a burn, no it's something worse. Then, he sees Izuku's eyes muffle down, there's a sadder cause in that smile, "we all have our own battles to fight, I guess, I uh wasn't popular kid back in school."

"Nerd?" the subliminally seething undercurrent to that question is— did someone touch you? Do you want me to find them?

It misses Izuku by a mile.

He only grins, unprepared and genuine, "well," he says, hiding a chuckle, "I guess you could say that."

The back of Bakugou's hand reaches out to touch lightly, knuckles grazing Izuku's cheek

Maybe those freckles will fall into his hand, dot them in spots of blood and take it all away, his fingers try to grab. Bakugou restrains, no use trying to grab running water, that's gonna slip away anyhow. He's not sure, at this moment, he's not sure if he knows where his own defences lie and he's reluctant to check. Knowing this comfort, it suddenly becomes invariably important to hold this freckled man who had definitely not been put on this Earth for Bakugou. Not that it mattered to him.

Izuku simply sees the delicate move with concern before he slumps his cheek into the palm of Bakugou's hand. There's a smile on his lips, it looks so humane, Bakugou almost forgets that his hands aren't immoral when he touches him.

He breathes in sharply, it almost hurts to take in air. Ironically, this man has managed to find him in the worst possible time, and Bakugou repeats to himself, this isn't a fucking burn, and Gods does he wish it was because the warmth flowing in his veins, curling in the blood coursing through his chest gives the distinct feeling of ruination.

Bakugou's hands slip down to his neck and he pulls him close enough, his head bows into his neck with some twisted, marred absolution.

Izuku's scent is clear and numb when he gasps for it, like the first air after swimming in the little fishing creek back in the summers, water dripping from his hair to the laughter of his friends. He was trying to reach for the sun back then. Trying to matter to the world in all the right ways, all the right words, the clouds pulling in, misting over the waters.

His hands drown to miss the warmth where the ray of sun had been.

Bakugou swallows.

"Are you okay, Bakugou-san?"

No, he replies, but he's gotta stop Izuku from getting into his head, that's a bad place and there's not a consequence good for either of them if he does. Bakugou counts his breath, counts the various things he can see, leftover bullets in his pocket, two French Nails in his vest and the ikejime below his watch, count one, count two and then, the seven breaths that slipped away from the man he had killed two days ago, two days and twenty hours critical for his mother to live.

"Tired," he allows, still grounding himself but it feels like he's on fog.

"Hey," the voice urges him to glance up, the lights on the ceiling blind him but Izuku's face comes up, viridian eyes shining without looking into his own. For that moment, Bakugou allows himself to believe that he has a lover in him, believes that the affection in the lift of those lips is dedicated to the wretched beast beating in his ribcage, gnawing at the bone.

And, he realises why it had been such a heartless thing to do when Izuku cradles his jaw, kissing the space between his brows and Bakugou closes his eyes to drown in it.

"It's okay, you're tired, you can rest for a bit," ghosts of his fingers smoothed the wrinkles on his brows, contour the sharp edges of his jaw and Bakugou soaks the little pressures like the sun he had once known.

When Izuku leans in, his mouth is softer and it tastes like the after hours of rich spices and tangy delicacies from the Katsudon. His fingers thread from his jaw into Bakugou's hair, longingly massaging his way past.

Bakugou can smell his hesitance, Izuku can't hide it well and it prods the blond to gently push back, squeeze the muscles on his hips. Izuku squeaks, inadvertently deepening their kiss before relaxing into complete welcome, leaning his hips against Bakugou's. Trusting the dance of their tongues wouldn't lead him down the pretty, cobblestone path to Hell.

His trust revives Bakugou in its own wicked ways, hands grab in a messy rhythm and he sighs into the dance, taking whatever soul or life Izuku is willing to give in the name of love. This is meant to be mine, he thinks and for some reason, his mind considers that enough and less at the same time.

Greed's got a long history with him, he decides.

Izuku breaks away, partly from intensity but mostly for air, his forehead pressed lightly against the other's, his sights shakily align to peer into crimson eyes. It almost steals his thoughts when he sees the quiet monster Monoma had been warning about in them.

"About letting me go," Izuku hums thoughtfully, "you were lying, weren't you?"

Bakugou smiles, tips reaching his eyes crookedly, they make Izuku recall a fancy Latin word in its exchange— lex talonis, like for the like, he thinks.

Bakugou does seem like someone who cuts his own cloth of justice, whatever be its retribution, "well, you—" the rest of his words dies an immediate death when the nearest wall blasts out. In a second, it throws Izuku away from Bakugou's arms as debris and bricks go flying between them.

Everything becomes distorted for a moment and Izuku drags himself several steps back and has to shield himself with his arms from whatever that thing is. He feels his elbow being grabbed, pushing him to his feet voluntarily and the next moment, he's rubbing his eyes to get his vision clear.

"It's been a while, eh, Bakugou," the voice from his front declares, Izuku recognises the hardened voice, he catches a flicker of brown passing through his image.

Bakugou is on the other side, far from them, with gearin anger, "Round face—"

"I decided in your honour, I'd blast my way through," Uraraka says, she moves her head to Izuku, not lifting her eyes from Bakugou, "Hey, you're alive, that's good. Get out of here through that broken wall, go down the tunnel until you find an opening, climb your way up."

Izuku blinks, taking a step back in his state of disorientation. He looks at Bakugou, it's a moment of contact when he finds him looking at him.

Don't. Bakugou's gaze warns him again but the threats melt into a second's worth hesitation.

Izuku hears the doors open and twists around, his walk turning into a run as he runs down the tunnel. It seems like a sewer and he wouldn't have ever guessed it.

In a distance, he can see a light ahead from an opening. Izuku climbs the steel ladder. Midway, he hears footsteps and catches Uraraka screaming at him to climb up faster, he does and she's up with him soon enough.

Izuku looks around, he's unfamiliar with these parts but the rough building structure resembles a side street near, they're behind a convenience store.

"We aren't out yet," Uraraka says, stopping him from being relieved as she looks out the streets. She curses under her breath but Izuku is unsure at what exactly before he begins seeing the various men at random, red collars peeking out and Izuku had never noticed the odd difference, the common person never does see the details, and fortunately for them, the devil lies in the detail. A black car stops in front of them and both of them freeze but Uraraka relaxes when Monoma steps out.

"Nii-san!" She whispers before throwing herself in his arms, the blond catches her in a spin of a hug, holding her tightly before letting her down.

Monoma is a different person when his eyes are looking at family, he gives a once over to his sister, which is something Izuku is beginning to have several questions about because didn't she steal from them? Either way, it's a different deal that suffices himself when she isn't harmed too greatly.

He regards Izuku with the way one views a torched matchstick in a room with gasoline but doesn't say a word instead he gives the car keys.

"I'm leaving Japan," she informs when they are both seated in, "Hawks needs me back in L.A."

Monoma's face twists in dislike, "that bird for brains has never once been—" he schools his expressions with a calm breath to maintain his poise, "are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, Nii-san, trust me."

Monoma does and Izuku, though wishes to have no part in this interaction but has no choice in it, suspects that is where the problem lies. The blond stops by the window, "Ochako, about Kirishima, you do know he didn't intend to have that happen back then."

Uraraka starts the car, looking forward to the road ahead, "We choose our own paths, nii-san," she smiles at him, "it doesn't matter now. I'll return to the manor in a while and I suggest you leave for France in the meantime, goodbye for now," saying so she drives past the green lights, hauling them out of the limelight. They're pulling back into the main streets and to the centre of Musutafu, Izuku deduces they've just come back from the Northern side.

"So," Uraraka continues, over the radio, "when you said you're a lover and not a fighter, that is not what I expected, how did you even survive in that room?"

"Hard work," he deadpans.

"I bet," Uraraka giggles.

"I was wondering," Izuku says, "Is Bakugou-san always that—"

"Unpleasant?" she inserts and that isn't where he was trying to get at, "Excuse him, he's generally that incorrigible, I can't believe we grew up together sometimes. I ended up working for the government and he— well, he went his own way."

The unregulated information takes him by surprise, the dynamics in this rivalry or whatsoever confuses him and makes him question everything he knows all over again. Again, he's not sure if he is supposed to know about it or if it's just one of those things that you leave as it is instead of meddling with it further.

"I really am sorry though, I didn't mean to drag you in this but if they caught me alone, they'd have me in it for too long," she states, "Bakugou has a twisted way of caring for his own."

"To protect you from the ongoing fight? So in the end, they didn't want the parcel, what they were looking for," Izuku stops, "is you."

"They were looking for both actually, so I guess it was a jackpot," Uraraka stops at the red light, arching a look at him, "couldn't have been a pleasant time if you've known that far."

"He," Izuku stalls before deciding, "he wasn't as terrible as I thought he would be," a low bar really, you could walk on the ground and still be above it and now that Izuku voices it out, he isn't sure what his statement is supposed to mean. "Uraraka-san, may I please ask a favour from you?"

She looks at him, there's no promise but there's interest and goodwill which is good enough for him.

"Can you make sure they don't come for me?"

"Who? The red collars? They won't bother," she assures before stopping, "unless you've given him a good reason to come for you which I hope you haven't."

"I— well," Izuku stammers, recalling when he had been so close, his ears burn in a slight embarrassment, the full effect of the nonsense he had just done coming back to him.

What alarms him is when Izuku finally saw him, that man beyond those walls in Bakugou, he didn't feel threatened even if it had its own monstrosity. Izuku isn't blind to those walls he puts up, they are meant to hurt anyone who climbs them. That moment was a weak moment is all. It's safer for him to think that anyhow.

"Could you please make sure? I know they didn't even ask my name."

Uraraka hums, "Kirishima and Kaminari would've asked for your name before beginning to interrogate you but since you chose the hard way— okay, that's wrong, the uniquely painful way out, they must have thought you wouldn't come out alive. What's the use in a dead man's name? Honestly, they don't need a name to find you."

"That's very comforting."

She shrugs, "I'll try to keep you off their radar, with everything that's happening, and gonna happen, they should forget you," she gives her last words another thought, "he should forget about you."

Watching the cars pass in the opposite lane, billboards and ordinary life standing by, something deep in him rumbles at the statement, it doesn't ring true to him but he convinces himself that's for the better, "is—is he going to be okay?" There isn't an answer for a long time so Izuku makes his own assumptions, crime, yakuza and guns— bad business with no morality or care.

"I think," Uraraka says, after a calculated pause, "you should forget this ever happened."

She looks away, the wind blowing her hair, "as far as Bakugou is concerned, he's too much of a bastard to die, don't waste your hope on him. Besides, don't you have an appointment now?"

Izuku furrows his brows, "it's morning already?!"

"Early."

"Could you please leave me near Shizuoka Towns Hall?" Izuku asks, his flight is at four in the morning and he hasn't gotten any cat food but in his defence, nothing really went as planned as far as his day is concerned. When they reach, she parks near the pavement and Izuku hurriedly tries to get out before Uraraka gives him his phone, he stares at her with a question.

"Didn't have a choice, had to call someone in, you don't think I could get out and plant an explosion on my own right?"

Izuku opens his mouth to say something but replaces it with a cough clearing his throat, "as much as I would have liked knowing you in different circumstances, I sincerely hope I don't meet you again."

Uraraka laughs, "if you're lucky, you won't see a trace," she waves to him.

Izuku walks into the sidestreet to the innards of where he lives, it's a long walk and it's hard not to jog or run to his apartment. The skies show an ungodly hour in its weather and the clock tells him, if he isn't in a taxi in less than twenty minutes with his things and his cat, he's going to miss his flight. Izuku thinks it's remarkable timing to be leaving Japan at the moment, Izuku thinks he might extend his vacation a bit and his mom is ecstatic to hear so.

Until his sitting on his flight to Morocco, he doesn't feel relief or sleep climbing in and when the city lights fade away.

Izuku sighs, it's that thing with pretence, turn away and close the door on a memory and you might as well think it never happened. But a part of him knows and Izuku shoves it before locking it down and let it sink into the depths with an anchor.

Morocco welcomes him and his cat with open arms, Izuku has always been this travel person, between visiting the ruins of Volubilis, walking around the blue city, and admiring cedar wood items in the Musée Nejjarine, he occasionally writes letters to Shouto, hoping his very lawful career is placing itself nicely.

And then, Izuku dares to forget.

Years pass, his debt to the owner has still the same progress and Izuku has convinced himself that he'll be an old man when he finally finishes paying it. An old married man it would seem because that's the hook his mother has caught onto. She wants to see grandkids running around and Izuku proudly presents Kenzo as his child in a revision of Simba from Lion King.

Kenzo doesn't count, she argues and it absolutely wrecks Izuku. If there's one thing about the white fluffball that Izuku knows for sure, is that Kenzo is his son from another species.

It leads to a lot of light-hearted arguments but then, his mother insists that he needs someone to co-parent Kenzo with. ("But," Izuku says, "you parented me alone, and look how I turned out, I'm gonna do the same," to which, as a response, Inko stares at her progeny for a long, long time)

He learns baking because he's no good with cooking, at the age of twenty-seven, he's caused two fire alarms, one false and the other being very real. He saves baking as a genuine side hobby rather than something to monopolise on, and has many kids from the neighbourhood around his place when they catch a whiff, they're hungry little wolves but Izuku makes enough for everyone to get their share.

The first of them is Kota who just knows when Izuku's hand reaches out for flour, which in and of itself is quite the talent.

When he hears Kota sneaking in as he closes his store for the day and taking Kenzo with him, Izuku merely shakes his head dismissively, "Kota-chan, if I'm making cookies, you're only getting them in the morning, it's not good for your teeth to eat sweets before bed," he switches off the lights on the other end, and then, he hears a soft sound near the billing counter.

Ah, did Kenzo run through those plushies again? Izuku has this accidental stock of octopus plushies lined up in a pyramid and as of recent, it's become his cat's aim in life to fly through them like a wrecking ball hitting large bowling pints. It's awfully adorable but he's gonna chide the hell out of that feline because it's late and Izuku wants nothing more than to grab a quick dinner and sleep.

He comes down the aisle when a strong glare of light passes through the front glass, some guy in a car flashing his lights at his store a little down the street and Izuku groans, coming closer to catch a better look.

It's a sleek black car.

And.... it's not like Izuku's vision is a 20/20 but the tuft of red collars in the passenger and driver's seat gets his spine set straight.

That's not— Izuku feels fear strike back at an impious pace. But if it is what he thinks it is, then, Izuku figures that leaving the convenience store and going someplace safe is the top priority. He tries reaching out for his phone to call his mom or anyone really but the pockets are empty and he recalls stashing on the coffee table at the back of the store.

His cat softly calls to him, and Izuku tenses as he slowly moves to the counter, unpaid glances hawking to it because he's not really paying attention to anything but that car, do they know he's in? They definitely do, it wouldn't make sense to do flashlights if they didn't. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he swallows hard, alright, let's get my phone, we'll go from there.

"Kenzo, come here," he says, managing the sweetest voice he can, hoping his cat senses the urgency which he usually does but for some reason, refuses to this time.

"Kenzo," Izuku calls out in frustration, coming to the counter, finally looking at it as he says, "can you—"

He stops.

Behind the billing counter, Bakugou sits on a folding chair with Kenzo seated on his thighs, resting his furry neck on his knuckles, purring in whatever pleasant company the feline found as Bakugou petted a space above his whitetail.

"I think he likes me," he remarks thoughtfully.

For sure, Kenzo does, he's only like that with Izuku when they are comfortably at home.

A small gasp leaves Izuku, navigating through what he should be doing; he doesn't know.

So he simply stands still until Kenzo stretches out, jumping out on the counter. Then down, before pooling around Izuku's ankles and standing beside him, tugging to go home.

Now you come to me, you traitor, Izuku thinks, picking him up with an impending sense of doom.

"It took me a while," Bakugou admits, gruffly, "the fight lasted not long but clearly, you hide well enough for my men to weed you out," he looks out the window, pointing to a nearby street stall that was closing up. "Came here to eat Katsudon, it's the best in this part in Musutafu, you know, and imagine my surprise," he puts his gaze back at Izuku like it belongs there, "when I see you on the other side of the glass, a bunch of kids around you." 

He chuckles, "I thought you were being unfaithful, glad I checked before doing anything 'bout it."

Izuku's discomfort increases with every word he says. Painfully, he thinks back about how everything could have been avoided if he hadn't been such an idiot.

"The fight," he remembers, "you won?"

Bakugou stares at him with a brow life, almost offended, "Did you think I wouldn't?"

Now, there's a question Izuku isn't too fond of to answer but instead, he asks the one playing on his mind, "Why are you here, Bakugou-san?" while it isn't assertive, Izuku steels himself to not cave a step back when the blond stands up, making his way to him.

Izuku has a clearer survey of the years and their toll on Bakugou, he's got a new scar from behind his right ear, it looks painful, other than that, he looks better, more guarded, more walls.

And oh he's standing right before him. God, so many different ways this could go down and Izuku fears he's run out of luck.

"I'm a little late on schedule, but I always knew I was going to see you again, you couldn't have been stupid enough to think I'd let you get away after the stunt you pulled now did you?" and Izuku thinks he's mildly proud to know he wasn't thinking he'd get away with what he did.

He knew it would come when he least expects it but he didn't exactly think it would be like this. Never like this.

"Besides, I have a little problem with a few people in Okinawa," Bakugou continues, standing in front of him, "and I will need your help in it."

His eyes dart to Bakugou, his grip on Kenzo pulls the cat closer in comfort, Izuku doesn't know what that means, he isn't sure he's going to like it either. Bakugou's hands reach out and as much as Izuku should have flinched away, no part of him feels threatened when the back of his fingers graze softly against this cheek. Bakugou grins, giving Izuku the idea that he's unwittingly consented to something.

"I'll come again soon."

He pets Kenzo on his neck before he walks away from the opened side door which Izuku distinctly remembers locking up but he doesn't want to know how he got in. Sooner or later, Izuku does get to know why Bakugou hounds him down. He stares at the papers that he had just been gives in utter disbelief that somehow reminds Bakugou of his own feelings the first time he met him.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to go ahead with this."

Bakugou who has testified of being many things worse than being out of his mind simply shrugs, "It benefits both of us."

Izuku chokes on a derisive laugh, "really? You made sure to buy them out, leaving me no choice."

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Bakugou clears his throat and Izuku lets a sound of protest but it doesn't stop him from walking away. His eyes go back to the paper and the sheer confoundment is what pushes him to send a letter manually to Shouto instead of mailing it to him because of the urgency. He tries to explain everything he can remember and can picture the utter surprise on his friend's face for which he apologises.

Todoroki stares at the letter, the second page ends with:

Shouto-kun, I know how this sounds, but I can think of no one else to call. He's adamant that it should be me, apparently, the Sugisuna port really is important to him, you're a lawyer, you'd be a good person to see this through. I understand if you can't—

He stops reading the letter then because the rest would possibly be Izuku trying to say he didn't have to which by a long shot, is not happening. He puts the letter aside, palms his face with a loose chuckle and spends a good amount of time reminiscing Izuku's various tendencies of getting himself in terribly impressive circumstances. It's an old habit.

But there's something worrisome there when he had read Bakugou's name, Izuku should have known better than to make a lie as dangerous as that. Todoroki glances at the last piece of document that had been in the letter, that man seems to be hell-bent on making good on that lie.

Honestly, around the courts and sessions, Todoroki has only heard Bakugou's name come up a few times.

Those cases are never assigned to him.

They're cleaned, put on the low and forgotten. The paperwork is dealt with but Todoroki is fairly certain none of them actually make past. Besides, it's rare that the red collars leave any trace and when they do, it's generally purposeful.

So they usually already have a lawyer at the drop of a hat.

And of all people in there, Izuku really picked the big fish, not that he knew. Todoroki is informed that Izuku's luck, in general, is the result of all the wicked deeds he's done in his past life.

Izuku probably refused him at first but Bakugou is a businessman. He's learnt the hard way that the world isn't all fists and fight so creating situations amiable for what he wants is what he does or he wouldn't be half the man he is.

Todoroki can discern it play out as if he is right there when Izuku tells him that the company who he owed his debts had just been bought by Bakugou. He can see where this is going and the offer Bakugou puts on the table is all too convenient to accept, he's sure Izuku can see it too but the reason why Bakugou would want Izuku for something like that is still a little unclear.

Surely, a crime boss like him could get anyone else right?

Or maybe, Todoroki thinks having a hunch, narrowing his eyes on the document.

Izuku had given him a good reason to come for him without knowing and maybe, that's why he doesn't get it and Todoroki who is not involved, can. It's like giving shelter to a stray; surely that would come back to bite your kindness.

He takes his phone out, dialling a number and a moment lasts before a grumble sounds, "Shouto."

"Dad, uh," he frowns hearing the public chatter, looking at the time, "you're outside?"

"No," Todoroki Enji replies stiffly. "I'm in a below-average parlour, your brother switched my shampoo with dye and I refuse to live with this humiliation."

"You might not want to be calling them below average in front of them when they're dealing with your hair," Shouto pauses, confused for a moment on whether by humiliation he meant his sibling or the dye but it prods him to ask, "Which colour is it? And can you send me a pictur— nevermind Touya-nii already sent me, and neon purple is a pretty colour, not on you, but it is."

He hears another displeased growl.

"This is not what you've called me for, what do you want my help with, Shouto?" His voice grows grim, "is something wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, father, I just wanted to know if you knew anything about Port Sugisuna."

A moment of silence ensures, "The one in Okinawa, they're owned by dissidents from the Naha clan since the early 1980s, after the 4th Okinawa war, they gave up most of their ports to the government but since early in this century, it's been just out there but only individuals with very particular powers can buy a port there, especially now with the influence of the Chinese."

Todoroki plays with the weights on his table.

"What exactly are these particular powers?"

"If I am not wrong, they should powerful enough to protect themselves independently," his father says before sounding unsure, "and another of them deems that they should be married, why? Why are you asking about all this?"

In return for Izuku having his debts forgiven and forfeited, he is required to do this, Todoroki thinks, holding the photocopy of the official Marriage Registration form under the names of respective parties— Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou.

Todoroki distantly wonders if Inko knows about this and it might just be good for everyone involved that she doesn't know, including herself.

"Well, Shouto?"

He realises he's still on call.

"Just that something came up," he disregards, picking up his coat and signing a slip for leave before handing it over to Aoyama who bows to him as does he, "I won't be coming home and tell mom not to call office either."

On the calls, his father leaves a concerning amount of silence before asking, "why?"

Todoroki chuckles, going down to the parking lot, walking to his car. Once he's seated, he sees a reflection of red collars in the mirror, he pretends to have not seen it and so continues, "Let's just say." 

"I have a visit overdue to an old friend."