Chapter Text
ACT I SCENE XIV
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There are a lot of things on Izuku’s mind. With school starting again, his desperate urge to fix everything and anything as some form of atonement for the man he’d accidentally killed, and a mind-boggling case that he can’t solve at this point in time, Izuku is well on his way to a mental breakdown. That’s why he’s here in an alley on Tuesday, sparring Dabi and hoping that he’ll (safely) punch the frustration away. Giving the other man more bruises in the process is only an added plus.
Needless to say, Izuku’s brain hasn’t stopped extrapolating every thought that flitters through; no matter how small. Like the flick of a stray cat’s tail from behind the dumpster. How cute, Izuku thinks. He’d thought of getting a dog at one point. Maybe then the house wouldn’t feel quite so lonely. Oh, shih tzus are really cute. What if he’s allergic, though?
All it takes is one second of distraction for Dabi to have the upper hand. Literally. The scarred man grabs Izuku’s outstretched wrist, a punch that’d been too telegraphed and slow, yanking him forward harshly. Izuku stumbles. Dabi’s shoulder jams under his chest. Suddenly Izuku is being lifted up, legs flailing behind him and—
“Shit!”
The wind is snatched from Izuku’s lungs. He heaves for air, gasping like a fish out of water. His shoulder and lower back scream in pain, having absorbed most of the impact of being thrown onto the ground by Dabi like he’s a giant bag of rice. Blinking the stars out of his eyes, Izuku groans, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He kneads at the dull ache in his hip.
“What’s got you so distracted, twerp?” Dabi asks, leering at him from his perpetual leaning stance against the alley wall. “Is training getting too easy for V-san over here that you can afford to think about other things while we spar?”
Izuku scowls. “Screw you. You didn’t have to throw me that hard.”
“You were the one who said not to hold back.”
And Izuku scowls again, deeper this time, because Dabi’s right. Fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck, he takes a minute to gather his thoughts (and his breath). If only fantasising about pets was the real reason he feels like he might explode from stress.
The toy company case is proving to be incredibly difficult. Toys of Joy, owned by Walter & Jefferson Corp., are suspected of illegally trading weapons within the underground, masquerading guns as toys and hiding them during shipment to avoid detection by the authorities. Spectre had provided them with the basics: word of mouth says the deals happen in the company’s warehouse, done by cover of inspections before the toys are sent off to department stores across the country.
It took Izuku days to hack his way into the Walter & Jefferson Corp. servers. Even then, with the incredible amount of data they’d had, he couldn’t find a shred of concrete evidence that could be used in court without the defense claiming conjecture. There were no ledgers, no codes, and no documents of any kind that he could use to find discrepancies in.
Hacking into the cameras in the warehouse was even harder. The security was eerily similar to that of the bugs they had once used for the Fresh Blossoms Laundry case. Izuku had given up after a week of no progress. Each time he tried, he’d get shut out. They had to resort to using the public cameras around the building and within the area for sightings instead. Bugging it hadn’t been an option either since the warehouse itself was on the other end of the city.
All his efforts had just led to walls that Izuku kept hitting. Each time it’d happen, he’d grind his teeth, take a deep breath, and try again. Nowhere but up, right? No matter how frustrating and gut wrenching failure was, Izuku had to keep going. But the more he worked, the more he figured that maybe he had to look in a different direction.
That’s when Izuku struck gold.
Yamamoto Inc., owners of a large department store chain in Musutafu that carried products from Toys of Joy, had an employee that adored otters a bit too much. One click of a link and Izuku was in. Yamamoto Inc. had documents that clearly stated the days in which they would arrive to inspect the products before accepting incoming merchandise from the company. These corresponded. To an extent.
Extra slots for Yamamoto Inc. were added on the schedule for Toys of Joy, none of which matched. So Izuku checked the other companies that had inspections and found that they were also being penciled in by Walter & Jefferson Corp. for warehouse visits that they never knew of. How interesting. Comparing the documents like that made it blindingly obvious that something sketchy was going on. Especially when the external cameras around the warehouse show people entering on days these non-existent inspections were supposed to occur. He’d found the discrepancies; obvious and carelessly covered up now that he’s actually compared notes.
Except now Izuku needs proof about the existence of real guns, as well as figure out how they’re being hidden, and who they’re being sold to. It’s been a week and a half since they’ve been given the case and Izuku is no closer to solving it.
Don’t even get him started on school and how Shiraishi-sensei seems to be looming over his shoulder every other day. The homework had been hellish since teachers wanted to make sure their students had retained some form of knowledge during their break. Which meant the occasional pop quiz.
All of which to say, Izuku is now looking into buying a coffee machine.
“Just a case that’s been pretty frustrating to close. I need proof and people to target, but I can’t figure it out cause the site is too far away so we can’t stake out or bug the place.” Izuku sighs, grumbling into his palm. “Hacking into the warehouse itself is a no go. The security is way too tight. Whoever it is obviously knows what they’re doing and is being paid well for it.”
Dabi whistles lowly. “Wow, you’re shit at your job.”
Oh my god, “Shut up. I’d like to see you try.”
Izuku gets up, wincing as his back protests the action. Yeah, he’s going to have to ice pack the hell out of his body today if he wants to be able to walk normally for school tomorrow. Massaging his shoulder, Izuku sighs. He’ll need to head back soon. It’s getting late.
“What’s the case about?” Dabi asks.
“The Toys of Joy company owned by Walter & Jefferson Corp.” Izuku says. “They’re running black arms deals out of their warehouse, masqueraded as inspections by their partners.”
Izuku dusts the grime off his sweatpants. Laundry day tomorrow; he’ll need to get more detergent on Friday when he goes out for groceries. His mentor, otherwise known as the reason Izuku’s mouth needs to be washed out with soap, has a contemplative look on his face. Dabi holds up a palm, eyes narrowing slightly.
“You mean that company selling toy replicas of Snipe’s guns? I heard rumours about that.”
It’s like everything clicks into place.
Izuku gasps, hands pressed to his temple, aborted noises of his eureka moment slipping past his lips. Gah! He points a vague finger at Dabi excitedly, a smile bursting across his face. This is how they’ll get the evidence they need for Spectre to take them down! A person on the ground who could easily obtain information from less-than-legal sources; perhaps even from the criminals themselves. Izuku bounces on his heels, giddy.
Dabi takes a cautious step away. “You look happy. I don’t like it.”
“You!” Izuku chirps. He scurries over to the man. God, why hadn’t he thought of this before? It would’ve made things so much easier.
“I have a name.”
“You can help me get information!”
“I’m not breaking into a warehouse for you—”
Izuku slaps at Dabi’s chest with an exaggerated eyy of discontent. He frowns at him, shaking his head. Of all times for Dabi to play stupid, Izuku grumbles inwardly. All he needs is for Dabi to ask around. It’s not as if he’s going to send the man in to act as a buyer and then tip Spectre so that it becomes an ambush. Izuku doesn't think that the company would fall for it, nor would Dabi willingly accept the gig. As it is, Izuku doesn't know much about the man other than what he’s found from his research.
Todoroki Touya is a mystery and Izuku isn’t keen on pushing the man to reveal his secrets before he’s ready. Dabi will trust him sooner or later, just like how Izuku had become comfortable around Kaz and Dabi. Until then, Izuku is happy to train under the man and ask for help like this.
“That’s not what I meant! You’re closer to the underground than K- Chikara and I. Dabi, you could be my informant!”
The man scoffs, shouldering past Izuku with his hands shoved in his pockets. Izuku follows after him. If Dabi could act as Izuku’s eyes and ears amongst the vigilantes and villains, or at least the sketchier people in the underground society, he’d be able to learn more about cases like these. At least while he starts to get his hacking skills up to par. Even then, rumours and whispered secrets like these can help point Izuku in the right direction. That’s all he needs.
“Please, Dabi! Just help me find out what people know about the deals. I know you can do it without alerting anyone.” Izuku pleads, growing impatient. He pauses before adding slyly, smirking. “Unless you don’t think you could pull it off.”
“Just because I tolerate your presence does not mean I’ll be your lackey.” Dabi shoots over his shoulder. Damn it, he didn’t take the bait. “Go bug someone else, you brat.”
“But there is no one else that I trust!”
Dabi sighs, coming to a stop at the mouth of the alley. He looks up at the sky, curses at the moon, and turns to Izuku with a scowl. Izuku stares innocently. His mother had always said that she could never say no to him and his big, round eyes. He widens them, pouting slightly. Maybe this will work. Izuku is above begging, but puppy dog eyes? Hah. It’s how he gets extra steamed buns from Lee, and how he manages to get Kaz to buy him sweet snacks.
But Dabi only makes a disgusted noise, grimacing. He makes a shooing motion with his hands.
“Stop that, you look constipated.”
Izuku glares. “Coming from the one full of shit.”
The man’s lips twitch. Izuku likes this part of whatever their relationship is. The stupid banter that can’t even be called witty. He looks back at Dabi, scuffing his toe against the gravel. Maybe he can offer a 70-30 split with Dabi from what Izuku will earn. It won’t put a dent in his savings.
“Please?” Izuku asks again. “I’ll even pay you.”
There’s a long, drawn out groan from the man. “Fine.”
“Yes! Thank you, Dabi! I’ll buy you takeout next time.”
“Whatever, squirt.” Dabi grumbles. There’s a wry smirk on his face. “It’s your ass on the line. I’m not the one in trouble when Chikara finds out.”
Oh, shit. Kaz.
Izuku swallows the lump in his throat, laughing nervously as he waves the thought away with a hand. He’ll have to break the news to Kaz somehow. Objectively, if this goes well, having Dabi as an informant would greatly help Izuku with their future cases. Heck, maybe they could even have more if clients came through Dabi too. Paying Dabi would also help improve the man’s quality of life. Maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to whatever crimes it is he does to get by. There’s a reason Izuku turns a blessed blind eye to his mentor’s dubious comings and goings.
If only the two guys could get along. They could be a trio running the underground’s most successful consulting firm. Alas, hell would probably have to freeze over before Kaz and Dabi manage to have a civilised conversation. Izuku doesn’t even want to imagine what their previous encounter must’ve been like. He’s heard of it briefly from Kaz, the topic dropped before it could be talked about further since Izuku had just killed a man. Fun times, huh.
“Nah,” Izuku lies cheerily, eyes turning into crescent moons as he beams at Dabi. “It’ll be fine!”
“Here are camera feeds from around the warehouse that show men entering the building when there is an inspection scheduled for the toys.” Izuku hands Kaz a flash-drive as he explains, eyes glued to the papers spread out on the ground. “These inspections are listed for places the replicas are supposed to be sent to, like department stores. Except, these aren’t actually scheduled on the merchants’ end.”
Kaz points at one of the sheets before him, a schedule meticulously cross-referenced by Izuku that had taken hours to organise, and frowns. “So it’s a cover for the actual arms deals.”
“Yeah! It’s actually pretty sloppy once you find the inconsistencies. The hard part was proving that they actually had weapons to sell, and who they were selling to.” Izuku replies.
“And did you figure that out?”
Izuku smiles coyly, waving a stack of paper in the air. A bright green sticky note on its front reads: ‘ GUNS HIDDEN UNDER SNIPE TOY REPLICAS. POSSIBLE QUIRK USE’. Oops, he’d forgotten to take that off. The sticky note had been an off-handed comment from Dabi when he’d reported his findings. About how some people in the underground (though who, the man would not say) had thought that there was some sort of ‘notice-me-not’ quirk in use.
“Here is a list of Walter & Jefferson Corp.’s most frequent buyers, and places the merchandise are dispatched to.” Dutifully, Izuku passes the papers to Kaz, who raises a brow at the sticky note. Izuku tries not to flush. He fails. Clearing his throat, he continues.
“All of them check out except some place called Donny’s Den? There isn’t much about it in the Toys for Joy records.” Izuku says. “Word on the street is that it’s a gang that’s quickly gaining traction in the Kiyashi area acting as the middle man for the guns. Not much is known about them but I did compile what I’ve found.”
Now for the part that Izuku has been dying to reveal the whole night. Giddy, Izuku reaches for his bag and pulls out another flash drive. His cheeks feel like they might split from the sheer force of his shit-eating grin. He’s done it. He found the smoking gun of the case. With dramatic flair that would make Dabi proud, Izuku offers it to Kaz like he’s a commoner in the Sengoku period trying to curry favour with the nobles.
“And here,” Izuku smirks, “are the schematics for the real replicas of Snipe’s guns.”
That had been an utter bitch to find, Izuku thinks venomously. Dabi’s information had pointed him in the direction of possible quirk use during transport, the potential buyers, and the fact that the actual weapons themselves were also replicas of the Pro Hero’s guns. With the toys being replicas themselves, built for water use or with soft foam bullets for children, it’d be hard to distinguish it by sight alone. The blueprints for its actual manufacture had been almost exactly the same, hidden under piles of junk folders in some administrator’s hard drive.
Izuku’s hacking skills had only been able to get him that far. That is until he drank four cans of Red Bull and refused to go to sleep until he cracked the password protected file and its following encryption. School the next day had been absolute torture with the way everything seemed to be perpetually blurry, Izuku floating by like some puppet held up by strings of sheer willpower (and two cups of black coffee). His head had throbbed with a pain that nearly caused him to cuss Tsubasa out when the boy purposefully knocked into him at the cafeteria. All in all, it’d been a productive Thursday night, but Izuku had paid the price on Friday.
He still is, to be honest. While Kaz looks over the documents he’s collated, Izuku is leaning against the couch, somehow exhausted and fidgety all at once. That might be because he downed an energy drink before coming here, and then had two bottles of Coke at dinner despite Lee’s disapproving glance, which had insanely boosted his sugar.
Speaking of the lady. Izuku drops his head back onto the couch, smiling up at Lee. She smiles back, eyes curving behind her round-framed reading glasses, her hand reaching out to card through Izuku’s hair. Sighing in contentment, he shuffles around to be in a more comfortable position. The book she’s reading isn’t one Izuku has seen before: The Fundamentals of Quirk Application in Emergency Medicine. As incredibly interesting as it sounds, the book is so thick that it looks like it could send someone to their deaths with just one hit. He’s determined to avoid it. Besides, Izuku figures he has more important things to read, like the new book on support item modification he’d just gotten.
And the grind never stops, he sighs.
This is nice, though, Izuku thinks to himself. It’s this part of their weekly dinners that he likes the most. While the entire night is blissfully domestic, their discussions about cases and files are what Izuku looks forward to. Not only because it’s exciting to share what he’s found and done, but also because it’s where he feels like he’s truly understood. Like he belongs, almost. One might be so bold as to call them a family if they ever catch a glimpse of the trio lounging around the living room after dinner.
But of course it all comes crashing down on Izuku again. The world doesn’t want him to be happy.
“Word on the street?” Kaz asks, brows furrowed. He holds up another sticky note, this one messier than the rest; one that Izuku recognises instantly due to its blue colour. “Why does this have street addresses and halfway houses to check out? What are these places? Midoriya, you aren’t going out on patrol alone again, are you?”
Fuck. Izuku laughs nervously, clambering over on all fours to reach over and snatch the note from Kaz’s grip. God forbid he turns it over and reads what it says on the back about his informant. He crumples it up. The note itself had merely been written down thoughts and places Dabi could try to pry information from. Nothing much had been yielded from those spots anyways, most of them cleared out by the time Dabi had gotten there or were completely empty for days.
“Ah, I- uh,” Izuku makes a flippant gesture and a psht, rubbing the back of his neck. “Silly me, that was just some random stuff I pulled off the forums. I didn’t actually go there, though. I swear, Kaz, I haven’t been out on patrol since…”
The air grows heavy.
“Since I killed a man.” Izuku finishes quietly.
Kaz’s lips press into a thin line as he looks back down at the papers in his hands. “Good,” he mutters.
Technically, Izuku hasn’t lied. He really hasn’t been out on patrol, be it alone or with Kaz, since the accident. And although he knows it’s for the best, since he can’t quite breathe right when he’s throwing a punch at someone other than Dabi, he’s starting to get just the tiniest bit impatient. Izuku misses jumping over rooftops and crouching on ledges beside Kaz. Their training hasn’t continued either. For all Kaz knows, Izuku has been spending his time at home and at school, not anywhere near the supposedly-dead son of Japan’s No. 2 hero.
“How did you get this information?” Kaz asks. “Is it legitimate? Will Spectre be able to work with this?”
Izuku nods, “Yeah, I made sure to check what I could.” He pointedly swerves the first question. If Kaz finds out that Izuku has been working with Dabi as an informant… Hell, if he finds out that he’s been meeting the guy every Tuesday, Izuku is going to be absolutely fucked. The thought alone makes him angry for some reason. He shoves the feeling away. It won’t get him anywhere.
The tension is still thick in the air. Izuku twists his fingers together anxiously as Kaz’s eyes narrow. The vigilante sighs, a rough sound that startles Lee from her reading. He slaps the papers down onto the ground.
“Midoriya, I might not be a hacker, but even I know you couldn’t have gotten some of this digitally.” Kaz points at the sticky note about quirk usage. “I’m not saying this isn’t great stuff, kiddo. There are just risks associated with getting info from sketchy sources like ‘the street’. Do I even want to know how you managed that without going on patrol?”
Before Izuku can make up an excuse, Kaz continues on. His shoulders deflate slightly, voice going from hard and frustrated, to quiet and concerned. “I only want to make sure there isn’t a risk of your identity being exposed. The people you’ve contacted may not have well-meaning intentions behind their actions. If people in the underworld, vigilantes or criminals alike, god forbid the heroes, find out you’re a kid… It’s incredibly dangerous, Midoriya.”
There it is again with the whole ‘you’re just a kid’ thing. Izuku had promised himself he wouldn’t get irrationally angry again; after all, Kaz only wants to protect him. But hearing the same argument being brought up time and time again really wears his patience thin. Yes, Izuku is a kid. He’s one hell of a kid, though. Still, he knows that this mini-lecture from Kaz is for his own good. Dabi, though an asshole, has proven that somewhere in his little, dark, burned heart is a spot for Izuku.
“Don’t worry,” Izuku says placatingly. “My source can be trusted.”
For a moment, Kaz just nods, brows furrowed and lips pursed. Izuku can pin-point the exact moment it clicks for the man. Kaz’s expression changes. Suddenly, Izuku is face to face with the angry Kaz from all those nights ago; the night where he’d yelled and said some things he wishes he could take back. Judging from the rustling noise behind him on the sofa, Lee has noticed the change as well.
“Dabi,” is all Kaz says.
Shit. “W-who?”
Kaz growls, red eyes flaming as he fixes a glare on Izuku. It’s enough to make him wilt. “Dabi. That’s your source, isn’t it?” The older man snaps. “Midoriya, you told me you weren’t going on patrol!”
“And I haven’t been!” Izuku cries desperately. Why is he getting attacked here? He hadn’t lied! The information for the case is solid and Izuku has been keeping out of trouble and staying up to date with things for school. Isn’t this the ideal? Shouldn’t Kaz be happy that Izuku’s doing better than before? That he’s not some broken mess unable to crawl out of bed because of crushing guilt?
“When I told you to contact Dabi,” Kaz hisses, features pinching together in frustration, “I meant for you to wrap it up. He’s clearly a dangerous influence, Midoriya. Those insane stunts you pull and that chokehold you did? You didn’t learn that from me nor your classes, and there’s no point in lying about it.”
“Dabi is a friend! He cares about me.” He treats me like I’m a regular guy.
“He might’ve taken care of the body for you, but doesn’t that mean you’re in his debt now?” Kaz says angrily. “What if one day he decides to take advantage of that? How many more debts, more favours, will you accumulate? It’s how the underworld works, kid. I would know. Trust me when I tell you that none of these guys are looking out for your best interests.”
“It’s not like that!”
“At the end of the day, Dabi isn’t a good guy.” Kaz murmurs darkly, a note of finality in his voice. “I can tell.”
No. Izuku is tired of hearing this slander. Dabi is a dick but he also genuinely cares. At least, that’s what Izuku thinks. He’s seen it in the way the older boy forces him to stop training when he starts swaying on his feet, how he’d somehow snag energy drinks from a vending machine (that turns out to have been kicked over and its glass broken). And Dabi hadn’t burned him alive the moment Izuku revealed that he knew about Todoroki Touya. All this, and more, doesn’t even come close to how he had saved Izuku from jail by cleaning up evidence.
“You’re not listening,” Izuku says desperately. His throat itches. “Dabi’s like-” a brother to me, “-He helps me, Kaz!”
This feeling is familiar - cornered, unable to get a word in. It’s like he’s facing Kacchan and his cronies again, only this time, it’s Kaz, the man he looks up to and trusts. Their first fight feels like ages ago now. Being on the receiving end of Kaz’s anger… Izuku blinks, tangling his fingers together as he tries to gather his thoughts. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He just wants to train, to be a better fighter. Dabi is his friend. What’s so wrong about all of that?
Kaz sneers. It mars his usually neutral face. The man before him looks nothing like the person Izuku had just traded jokes with over pizza earlier. This isn’t Chikara either. It’s simply Kaz: unfiltered and raw, full of frustration.
“Help you with what, getting away with crime? How to lie and hide things? How to get away with murder? He’s a villain, Midoriya! Can’t you see how dangerous he is?”
Izuku can’t help it. He flinches visibly. Murder. That’s right, Izuku is a murderer. Murder, murderer, murdrer, murderermuderer- Izuku takes a shuddering breath. His chest seizes. With his throat painfully tight and mouth dry, Izuku’s voice comes out strangled. “Dabi isn’t a villain. Y-you don’t understand. Kaz, I-”
“That’s enough.”
Gentle hands tug him into a standing position. A thumb sweeps across his cheek, pulling away damp. Izuku sniffles. Beside him stands Lee, a hard look on her face; one he hasn’t seen before. She glares at Kaz, still seated on the floor, before turning back to him. Lee softens, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.
“Would you like to get some air, Izuku?” Lee asks quietly. She inclines her head in the direction of their bathroom. “Take all the time you need, baobei. Wash your face if you’d like. You can use the purple towel to dry off.”
Wash his face? Izuku swipes the back of his hand over his eyes. Oh. He’s been crying. When did that happen? Swallowing thickly, he nods at the woman gratefully, letting her guide him to the mouth of the corridor. The moment the warmth of her touch disappears from his shoulders, the moment the door closes behind him with a soft click; the moment Izuku stands alone in the pristine bathroom is when he sinks to the ground and cries.
All he ever does is ruin things. I’m so sorry, Izuku sobs. Why doesn’t anyone understand?
When Lee comes back, she’s ready to give Kaz a piece of her mind. She’s not a person who gets angry easily, nor does she consider herself to be confrontational. She prefers sitting back and letting people hash it out, only interfering when she needs to. Clearly, she should have cut in sooner, because Izuku is now crying in the bathroom (the walls are only so thin) and Kaz looks like he’s ready to hunt someone down. And Lee? She re-enters the living room, swearing under her breath in Mandarin.
The man climbs to his feet, “Rui-”
Lee holds up a finger, cutting him off with a stern glare. “No,” she bites, “I do the talking. You listen. Got it?”
Kaz does the smart thing and stays quiet. Good. He’s been listening to the sound of his own voice for far too long. It’s time for him to shut up and sit down. Angrily, she jabs a finger at his chest, feeling her own tears of frustration prickle at her eyes. Lee has been watching them argue, no- watching Kaz talk over Izuku and tear into that boy even though he hadn’t deserved it. Damn it!
“What the fuck was that, Ikura?” Lee snaps. “You were out of line. This is exactly what we wanted to avoid after what happened last time, but I guess you’re such a big fucking man that you decided it’d be alright to just yell at the already traumatised and scared kid about something he’s clearly still not okay with!”
He scowls, jaw clenching as his arms fold over his chest. “Dabi is bad news, Rui.”
“Don’t you fucking ‘Rui’ me, you asshole.” Lee says harshly. “You’re throwing assumptions at Izuku without even giving him the chance to explain himself. And when he tried, you didn’t even listen! You said it yourself - we’re crowding him. Didn’t we have a talk, one that you’ve reminded me about many times, to give the kid all the space he needs to feel like he won’t be judged for what he says and does? We’re not his parents! We’re his friends, people he’s supposed to come to because he trusts us to help.”
Kaz looks off to the side, a grimace clear on his face.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Izuku takes off again with the way you’re going, Chikara, because you sure as hell are not acting like the hero you make yourself out to be.”
Lee glares at him one final time, a warning finger pointed in his face. “Get your act straight by the time I come back or I swear to god, I will make you, and only you, handle all incoming traumas without any interns for the rest of the month. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kaz snaps.
She kicks him in the ankle, scoffing when he grunts in pain. “Oh, suck it up or go be cocky elsewhere. I don’t have time to handle manbabys.”
Then Lee disappears down the corridor, taking slow but loud steps to alert Izuku in the bathroom. Her heart sinks as she gets closer. Oh, Izuku. Lee sighs sadly, raising a hand to knock. If only she could give him the answers to everything. She stops, deciding instead to slide down to the ground, back against the door, her head tipped up.
“Hey, baobei.” Lee calls affectionately. “I’ll be sitting out here, keeping you company, okay? You don’t have to come out until you feel ready. Once we’ve all cooled down, we’ll talk about things properly, alright?”
There’s a long pause, some shuffling behind the door. Then Izuku’s voice comes through, muffled and cracking at the end, but it brings relief all the same. “Alright.”
It’s another fifteen minutes of snivelling into the sleeve of his hoodie before Izuku finds himself calm and rational enough to open the door. He thought about it, and tried to put himself into their shoes. At first he had felt overwhelmed, backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Then he was pissed. Who the hell did Kaz think he was, dictating what Izuku can and cannot do? It’s Izuku’s choice to hang out with Dabi who, shady character aside, is an easy person to be around. Easier than Kaz had been during that stupid fight anyways. Now Izuku just feels tired and spent.
Izuku silently follows Lee to the living room, where mugs of warm tea await. The atmosphere is awkward, heavy with things that have been said. He settles onto the couch, curling into a ball against the armrest, watching with red-rimmed eyes as Lee sits on the other end. It’s a calculated move because the woman sits in between him and Kaz, who has his elbows on his knees, staring numbly at his mug on the coffee table.
“I- Uh,” Izuku clears his throat. Damn, why can’t he speak?
Truthfully, Izuku feels a little out of his depth. This is the second time he’s had a major fight with Kaz. The only difference being that this time, he’s on the receiving end of the anger instead of being the one to dish it out and then escape from a window. When he had fought with his mother, they’d made up easily or over hugs and food. Inko had this magic of making everything feel like it’d be alright again. His mother had always said that apologising is a good place to start.
Lee meets his gaze and smiles encouragingly. He takes a sip of his tea, letting the warmth fill him from head to toe before he continues.
“I’m sorry for making you worry again,” Izuku says. He lowers his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. It’s at times like these he wishes he could just blend into the furniture and disappear. “I- I know you only have my best interests in mind, and that you want to keep me safe. I’m sorry for lashing out; earlier today and that other night where I said some really mean things. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
Kaz’s face falls. He opens his mouth as if to reply but Izuku cuts him off. If he doesn’t get it all off his chest now, he’s never going to get it out. Izuku straightens his shoulders.
“Though, I’m not sorry for seeking Dabi out. I- I know you don’t like Dabi, Kaz,” Izuku mumbles. “But you don’t know him like I do, and it’s not my place to tell you why I trust him. So, I- Ah, if you would just trust me on this, I promise I won’t let you down again.”
The vigilante shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Lee shoots him a look that can only be described as furious. Kaz sighs, pressing a hand to his temple.
“Listen, Midoriya,” Kaz starts, muttering lowly. “I won’t lie and say that I like the idea of you running around the alleyways with a vil- I mean, with Dabi-”
“But,” Lee interrupts abruptly. She smiles kindly at Izuku. “We know that we haven’t been giving you the respect and trust that you deserve. We’ve been too overbearing. I’m sorry, Izuku. I’ll be better. Just promise me that you won’t get hurt, or that if you do, you come to me. Okay?”
Kaz dips his head in a bow. “I’m sorry too, Midoriya. What I said to you… It was uncalled for and horrible. You didn’t deserve that. I promise I’ll give you the space and trust you need to chart your own path.”
Izuku smiles from behind the rim of his mug, something in his chest shifting back into place. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. Izuku has a feeling this argument will keep coming up with, no matter how much they all wish it wouldn’t. There’s a lot left unsaid, and hell lot more to discuss, but he knows that Kaz’s apology is sincere, and that Lee genuinely does trust Izuku to make his own decisions. It’s what Kaz had said at the end that’d meant the most: Izuku being able to walk this road on his own, with the choices he’d make.
He shifts closer to Lee so that she can tuck him into her side, wrapping a thin blanket over his shoulders. It’s not quite like Inko’s hug or warmth, and it’s not quite a solution. For now, he rests his head against the crook of Lee’s neck, content.
The neighbourhood is quiet tonight. Kaz kicks his legs out leisurely, watching the park from a distant rooftop. Today has been a long day at work. Three emergency traumas and one scheduled assist, all of which he had to do with only four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee, which is hardly enough. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Without much to distract him, Kaz finds himself alone with his thoughts. He replays the fight in his head, feeling his gut churn when he recalls the way Midoriya had started to cry silently and neither of them had even noticed, too caught up in the heat of the moment. After Rui had, rightfully, ripped him a new one, Kaz had felt like utter crap. That’s because he is crap, he thinks bitterly. What kind of person yells at a child? Exhaling with frustration, Kaz roughly rubs at the back of his head, messing up his hair.
He’s glad that they’ve aired their feelings and talked about it. Seeing Midoriya cower away from him slightly, melting into the couch as if to hide from Kaz, had made his stomach bottom out with despair and guilt. There’s still more to discuss, though. Midoriya had brought up training with Dabi and Kaz; in separate sessions, of course, lest they blow up half the block from fighting.
They need to sort out the details, but Kaz is relieved that Midoriya consulted them about it at the very least. Rather than head off into some unknown back alley where another accident is waiting to happen. As it stands, Kaz is planning to bring Midoriya back out on Sunday patrols soon so they can continue his training. Although Midoriya had offered to train with Dabi for the rest of the week, to Kaz’s abject horror, Rui had smoothly cut in to propose they do it on Tuesdays instead. This would let Midoriya have time to focus on school and the workload from their consultation business.
Kaz himself has lots to work on. Extending the trust he has in Midoriya to others is one major thing. It’s not like he doesn’t trust or respect the kid, he just thinks that a lot could go wrong. The world is a scary place, and accidents like the one before could happen within seconds. Kaz has seen the fallout - the empty, sluggish Midoriya with hollow eyes - and he doesn’t know if he can stomach seeing that look on his kid’s face again. It’s unfair, Kaz thinks angrily, that Midoriya had lost a chance at a normal life the moment he found out he was quirkless.
His phone rings. Well, to be specific, it’s the burner phone they use for the consultation firm. It buzzes against his hip. Kaz flips it open to see an unknown number. Oh, a new client. Lately, their incoming stream of customers have been increasing. Not so much that it’s becoming overwhelming, but it has come to a point where Kaz has had to carry the burner phone around with him on patrol in case someone calls. Some of them, like Spectre, only stick to texts. Kaz never meets with them though. Not unless he knows who they are.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking to Chikara?”
Not opened with a code. Kaz frowns. That means whoever this is hadn’t been referred to them by a previous client. How had this person found their number? Word about their firm has spread, yes, but Kaz hadn’t thought their number would be publicised. He’ll have to fix that. It’s only through their patrons, or through Kaz himself, that their clients obtain the number to the burner phone. He doesn’t recognise the person’s voice either.
“Who is this?” Kaz asks. Something about this feels dangerous. The back of his neck tingles.
“Someone interested in hiring you,” they reply, a deep murmur that raises goosebumps across his skin. “Is this not what you do, Chikara-san? I’ve heard lots about your little enterprise.”
“That depends on what you want and who you are.”
“I am prepared to pay a large sum of money for some information.”
If only money were the thing they cared about most. Brows furrowing deeper, Kaz presses the phone to his ear. There’s something whirring in the background. Machines? Who is this? It’s times like these where he’s grateful Midoriya never pushed in regards to speaking with new clients. There’s a reason Kaz had been adamant about being the point of contact for their business.
“Tell me who you are first.” Kaz says. “How did you get this number?”
There’s a pause, followed by a muffled sound that might’ve been a sigh.
“You won’t have heard much about me. I’m new in town,” they hum. “I know you do quirk analyses. I’d like information on a hero. Eraserhead, to be specific. How his quirk works and all that. You can do this, right?”
Alarm bells go off in Kaz’s head. Information on a hero? That’s fine; it can be found easily with a web search. A full quirk breakdown and analysis? That’s sketchy. An unknown caller, who somehow obtained their number without a referral, wanting to know how Eraserhead’s quirk functioned? Fuck no. This isn’t a vigilante he’s speaking to. There’s no way.
“I’m sorry, we only provide quirk analyses for the individual vigilantes requesting them.” Kaz says, tone carefully neutral even though his pulse is racing. “We don’t take jobs assessing others as a safety precaution, since breaking down the nature of one’s quirk shows their weaknesses. Which is why we especially do not deal with heroes.”
“Why not make an exception? What will it take for you to reconsider?” comes the smooth reply. “How does a blank check sound?”
Kaz replies through gritted teeth: “Sorry. Cash only.”
Something loud crashes in the background, distorted by the static of the burner phone’s crappy speakers. There’s a cluck of a tongue. When they speak again, it sounds like they can barely contain their rage.
“I could make your life very difficult.”
This isn’t the first time Kaz has been threatened. Years of vigilante work, of tossing criminals behind bars and hiding behind a secret identity, has numbed him somewhat to promises of violence towards him. Kaz sighs nonchalantly, as if he’s bored. Meanwhile, all of his senses are on high alert. While he doubts he’d end up in a physical fight right now, something about the person he’s speaking with is deeply unsettling. Kaz is torn between wanting to dig deeper, find out who the hell has the guts to throw threats around like it’s a morning greeting, and hanging up so he can call home to make sure Midoriya and Rui are safe.
“You could,” he agrees casually. “But you’ll regret ever trying.”
Silence. The person on the other line scoffs. “So be it. You’ll do well to remember me.”
“And you are?”
“Overhaul.”
The name sounds familiar. It tickles the edges of Kaz’s memory. He should know this. Where has he heard this from? And why does he feel tense all over? He’ll need to ask around the local circles and his friends. Overhaul… It makes his stomach roil. Kaz’s instincts are almost never wrong, and they’re telling him that this person is bad fucking news.
“Allow me to apologise once again, Overhaul.” Kaz says, voice formal and word final. “You’ll have to find your answers elsewhere. Perhaps Google will suffice.”
“Funny. I hope, for your sake, that our paths never cross, Chikara.”
The line goes dead.
