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“I’ll fucking protect you. That’s all you need to know.”
Izuku should’ve known there and then that Kacchan’s protection could never mean something good.
How can something so awful come from good intent? Izuku supposes that the question applies to many situations he’s known. Prohibition, for example. It was never meant to harm anyone, not unless being unable to drink alcohol was particularly harmful to someone…
But out of it came the gangsters, the people who fed on the desperation of others. Izuku’s father, for example. Growing up in a secluded bar, growing up as the son of a feared mob boss, growing up being told that he’d make the perfect little piece of eye candy when he matured some more…
No, Izuku can’t say that anything about his upbringing was healthy. Which is why he can admit that his friendship with Kacchan was never a healthy one. To follow around someone who uses you, beats you up and calls you Deku …
But Kacchan’s amazing, something Izuku has always seen. And that night, the night where Kacchan had first shown his true colours, the hands with which he held the gun that had gone off and shot someone, all to save Izuku’s life—
Well. Perhaps the night then had been a pitch black, grayscale save for the blood on Kacchan’s hands, but Izuku’s life had been lit up. Kacchan loved him .
No, Kacchan loves him.
That was the night that Kacchan had made the vow, promised to protect Izuku with his own life. And Izuku, not realising the implications, had been over the moon.
And perhaps when you’re barely a teenager, the adults will step up and cover up the evidence, but when you yourself are an adult, the responsibility is yours. Except Kacchan leaves destruction in his path, too reckless to hide his mistakes. And Izuku’s only there to cling to Kacchan’s arm and look pretty, to compliment Izuku. How is he meant to do damage control?
Correct answer: he can’t .
What happened a fortnight ago proved just as much.
Whilst Kacchan’s aim with a gun might’ve improved, Izuku remembers the ever-present tremble in his hands when the shot fired.
“You’re headed for the big house now,” the dying man had wheezed out. “Who’ll protect your doll then?”
The terror in Kacchan’s eyes at the prospect of going to prison and not being able to protect his lover haunts Izuku, haunts him to the extent that it has driven him to this choice, this decision.
Whilst his man is in jail for protecting him, Izuku will become strong, more than just an attractive face to accompany some big name. And when Izuku is strong, he’ll protect his Kacchan. He’ll make those policemen pay.
“Gonna make a deal with the Devil, are ya?” Kaminari grins. “Bold move for a little doll like you...must be nice for Bakugou to have such a gusty lover. Go on through, Midoriya.”
The Devil is a code name, and a fitting one at that, if you count the spiky red locks of the man who titles himself so. Kacchan has often told Izuku that his best friend works under the name Devil, and is a charming man whose real name is Kirishima (if he remembers correctly). Kacchan has never actually let Izuku meet him, but if Kacchan says he’s good, then he must be.
Devil pours Izuku a glass of expensive alcohol, the meaning of which Izuku doesn’t miss. For someone to be in possession of this in this day and age, with prohibition plastered all over the laws of the country...well, it’s a show of power. Izuku can respect that. But he’s still scared.
“If I agree to toughen ya up,” the redhead chuckles, “ya owe me one, yeah? And baby, I dunno if Bakugou told ya, but a favour ain’t ever gonna end well for ya. Sashay right out again if you’re getting the trembles, doll. I won’t mind, promise.”
Izuku’s life has never been destined to end well. If a deal with the Devil is what it takes to win back his lover, he’s willing to make it.
“The deal stands, Devil. Train me to be as strong as you. Or,” Izuku pauses, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, “better yet, make me stronger .”
The Devil smiles innocently.
“Ain’t I gonna have fun with you, doll…”