Chapter Text
“Got a lead for you.”
Aizawa Shota looked up from his monitor to where Yamada Hizashi was grinning, holding a manilla folder out with a flourish. Shota sighed, but gave no other reaction than to fully turn towards his best friend. The man craved theatrics, which Shota refused to acknowledge. This made Hizashi deflate a little. “You’re no fun. You were requested for an interview.”
“I don’t do interviews.” Not strictly speaking. Shota took the opportunity when they were part of a larger case, but he wasn’t the type of journalist who did fluff pieces. Who could have possibly requested him for an interview, and why did Hizashi agree?
Hizashi’s mouth twisted again, one eyebrow raising with mischief. “You might want to take a look at this one. You were specially requested, you know.”
Definitely unusual. Casually, Shota opened the folder, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He snapped his head back up, brow furrowing as he regarded Hizashi. “You’re joking.”
That grin was plastered back on Hizashi’s face. “Allan Might’s representative in Japan was here earlier. Look.” He leaned in, pointing at the name of the request on top of the paperwork. “This Tsukauchi guy, he’s the only one who contacts Might now, he doesn’t even talk to the publisher. If you land this you’d be his first interview in a decade.”
Shota gritted his teeth and allowed his lips to part as he thought about how this could have possibly happened. Allan Might was a prolific American author, who used to churn out at least one book a year for nearly twenty five years. Thrillers and crime novels, mostly, though it had slowed in recent years and he was beginning to dip into other genres. He’d found particular success in the Japanese market, with rumors that he’d even moved to Japan to retire… except authors like Might didn’t ever really retire. “Why me?” he finally asked. It didn’t even make sense. He barely even spoke English.
Hizashi rocked back on his heels, eyes rolling. His expressive face went from smug to nervous. “Weeeell , I took the liberty of asking Tsukauchi-san that myself. He thinks Might saw your work on the Akaguro case and, um - thought what you said about his work was funny.”
He grunted in response, wondering why Allan Might would have found that funny. Shota had worked the Stain case with the police for months, and upon his capture had been the first to publish a full account of his history, each attack, how Akaguro had terrorized the public, and what was being done to prevent it in the future. He’d also referred to Akaguro’s sloppy trail as something out of a schlocky Allan Might novel, among other scathing comments.
“Listen, Shota,” he blinked himself out of his thoughts, focusing on the finger tapping the paperwork in the folder he held. Hizashi was pointing to a name on the page. “This Yagi Toshinori, this guy could be your ticket to talking with Allan Might. It’s worth trying, at least.”
“And what do you get out of this?” Hizashi did his own journalism, but while Shota kept to writing, Hizashi also presented his work in podcasts. They made up a small team, along with Nemuri to protect their work and each other, but their projects were generally each their own. Hizashi was the public face, neither Shota nor Nemuri were quick to give anything more than their name and their agency - Hizashi would want something if he was pushing this hard.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The blonde was grinning brightly again. “An interview with Allan- fucking -Might? Introduce me? Get me a signed book at least!”
Shota let a puff of air blow out his lips as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” He skimmed the letter, knowing he’d read it over another dozen times before the night was over. Yagi Toshinori, huh? “Thanks, Zashi.”
Hizashi let out a crow of triumph, which Shota flinched away from. But he couldn’t help the little smile that slipped onto his face as he headed to his office. He had an address to look up, and a few names to start research on.
--
His search engine was full of questions about Allan Might, and what had happened to the man that had made him go dark. There wasn’t a lot of information, mostly speculation that Might had chosen to go the hermit route. Not uncommon among authors, and since he was so well known he didn’t have to do any kind of publicity touring. As long as books kept coming out he was able to keep his privacy if desired.
And through it all Shota continued to work in his research between classes at UA, where he was an adjunct professor. Though working with papers and the agency covered a lot of his expenses, it didn’t necessarily pay the bills. What did pay the bills were three classes of students that stared at him for an hour straight once a week. He tended to get skeptical looks, until inevitably a knowledgeable student connected the dots from the scruffy man standing in front of them to a crime reporter with several years breaking open high profile cases under his belt. Shota never gave them his credentials, they could take his word for it, or not, and make of it what they would.
He pulled as many contacts in the book industry as he knew, asking about Might. By the end of the week, he found himself in Jimbocho, holding a small piece of paper with the name of the shop jotted down. He knew the basic information - All For One Books was owned by one Yagi Toshinori, a shop that specialized in Western books. He stocked translated books as well as in the original English, and supposedly people who frequented the shop had a good rate of scoring books autographed by American authors… including one Allan Might. The reviews were full of nice things to say about, particularly about Yagi, who appeared to be an English translator for publication, aside from the shop owner.
The outside was unassuming and out of the way, with faded window decals written in kanji as well as English. His nose was hit right away with the smell of books as he opened the door, followed up by the scent of black tea. His eyes scanned the shop, noting two things immediately: 1. There was a large one-eyed orange tabby sitting on the counter, and 2. Behind that counter was one of his students.
“Ai-Aizawa-sensei!” Izuku Midoriya slammed his hands down on the counter as he stood, startling the cat into jumping off and heading towards the back. Shota let his eyes follow the tabby, watching its belly swing a little as it sauntered away. It had a crook in its tail, which made Shota tilt his head a little in curiosity. “Oh - sorry Quirk! What are you doing here, sensei?”
There were a few things Shota could have said, but what came out as he dragged his eyes back to Midoriya was, “That cat is overweight.”
Midoriya, whose face was a mask of panic, attempted to smile, but his mouth was sort of wibbly. “He’s on a diet! I swear!”
Shota nodded and stepped inside, moving past the counter to browse the shelves. Maybe he would see if he could find an autographed book to bring Hizashi, if they were as abundant as people said. “Are you working here, Midoriya?”’
“Yes, sensei!” Midoriya was one of the students who hung onto his every word. Shota had had to fend him off after class for seemingly endless questions about how he’d worked the Akaguro case and the street drug busts, or whatever article from his portfolio had seemed to float through the young man’s mind. On top of that, Shota didn’t even think he was a journalism student. Midoriya was simply the world's most enthusiastic criminal law major. “I work here between classes. Were you looking for a book?”
Midoriya didn’t seem like the type to be working at a bookstore. He was loud and nervous when questioned, and Shota could tell he wasn’t finished growing. The young man walked around the counter, starting to give explanations about how the shop was set up. His movements were a little too wide, a little too erratic like he still wasn’t conscious of how his own body was moving.
But he wasn’t here to see Midoriya. “Is Yagi Toshinori here?”
His student stopped mid-chatter about the latest Stephen King novel. “No, sensei. Oh, but he’ll be back within the hour!” Midoriya looked at his watch, nodding as though to confirm what he’d said. “Did you want me to tell him you’re here? You can wait here or I can tell you which cafes have the strongest coffee?”
The smile he got was so eager, so hopeful, Shota had to roll his eyes. “Let him know I stopped in... And the coffee had better be good.” He turned his back so he wouldn’t see Midoriya’s victory pose, instead stepping a little into the aisle to try and get another look at that cat.
-
Shota had to hand it to Midoriya - the coffee was damn good.
He sat in the cafe and enjoyed his well-priced high end coffee. Even the loud music didn’t bother him, it just reminded him of most of his days of sharing an apartment with Hizashi. About forty minutes after talking to Midoriya he made his way back to One for All, looking immediately at said student as he walked in the door.
“I told him you were here! He’s in his office. He said you could go back and talk to him there.” Midoriya pointed to the back of the store, past the shelves. “It’s the door on the left, the right is for receiving. Door shouldn’t be locked so head right in.”
Shota nodded his thanks, and put his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the back. He looked at the shelves he passed, not looking at any particular book, only absorbing the aesthetic of the spines in the dim light. Back here it was hard to remember it was barely afternoon, the light from the windows didn’t reach even though it was a relatively small store. What was he walking into exactly? Who the hell was Yagi Toshinori, really, anyways?
He turned the handle and pulled the door open, not exactly sure what to expect. What greeted him was a man attempting to pry the cat off his desk. “Quirk, I have a meeting,” he was laughing, low with shallow breaths that rattled a little. “You need to-” the man looked up at him with possibly the most intense gaze Shota had ever encountered. His demeanor had changed from soft and affectionate to sharp and observant in just a moment. “Ah. You must be the famous Aizawa-sensei.” The overall effect was ruined as the cat brushed itself against his stomach where he stood.
"Famous?" Shota met Yagi's gaze for a moment, straying back down to the cat to avoid the intensity. When he’d started his journalism career he could barely look anyone in the eyes. It had taken a lot of practice, getting comfortable looking at people when it was important. Meeting Yagi’s stare made him feel raw and vulnerable. "Maybe to your employee. Infamous, most people would say."
The intensity melted away as quickly as it appeared, but Shota had already seen it. Even as the man grinned there was no way he could forget it had been there. "Perhaps. I only mean that young Midoriya speaks highly of you." Shota watched as Yagi tried to nudge Quirk and get the cat to move, but was unsuccessful as it only purred in pleasure. He bowed and held out a business card. “I’m Yagi Toshinori. Pleased to meet you, Aizawa.”
Shota somehow wasn’t expecting business from this man, but he found one of his own cards to exchange. “Aizawa Shota. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Please, sit. Don’t mind Quirk-kun, he likes to be involved.” The man gave one last, half hearted push, then sighed and took his own seat. The cat moved at that, hopping into his lap. Yagi looked up, seemingly embarrassed. “He used to be a street cat, now I can't get rid of him.”
It was a joke, obviously. There was a collar on the animals’ neck and he clearly felt at home in the bookshop. “Do you like cats, Yagi-san?”
“I like animals. Never expected to own a cat. Maybe a dog, I always thought.” Yagi lifted one hand to scratch at Quirk’s ears, then ran it down the cat’s spine. Quirk arched into the movement, curling that crooked tail around his owner’s hand. “It’s nice to have company though. Do you have any pets?”
“My apartment doesn’t have the space for an animal.” He was allowed to have one, and some of his neighbors did. But it was irresponsible to have a cat when he didn’t have the room and his salary wasn’t as steady as he’d like. Vet visits were expensive, and cats belonged inside when possible. “But I wasn’t invited here to talk about that.”
“Right to business?” Yagi took a breath and sat back in his chair. It was particularly tall, as the man himself was particularly tall. Shota took a moment to look him over, not allowing his face to give anything away. Yagi Toshinori had been a strong man once, and there was still clear muscle and strength in the body. But those observant eyes were sunk deep and his face was thin. Shota might have described him as willowy, but that implied a kind of grace he hadn’t seen in the movements so far. Yagi was hunched slightly too, as though he’d had a whole lifetime of making himself try to seem smaller, and hadn’t realized that his body had finally caught up.
On top of that it was hard to make out exactly how old the man was. Shota would have to guess mid-forties, though he could be drastically off one way or the other. “Yes,” he agreed, as he felt Yagi making a similar assessment of him. “You requested me?”
“Allan Might did. You deal with me first.”
“And how did he find out about my work?”
At that Yagi gave him a grin. “He reads the paper. Didn’t get really interested until I mentioned Midoriya had a class with him.”
“The kid?” Shota raised his eyebrows, now the one to pull back into his seat. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Izuku is a good young man.” There was real affection there, and Shota felt his eyes narrow. “I hired him a few years ago. He’s ambitious. Anyways,” Yagi waved a hand dismissively. “Might had already been reading your articles when I mentioned Izuku was excited about having you as a teacher.”
“Does Midoriya know him?”
“No. Might-san has decided to be something of a recluse. He has a home on Yakushima island, where he can enjoy the forest as he likes, and write in quiet. I go out there and visit him sometimes.” Quirk was purring as they spoke, butting his head into Yagi’s hand each time he went in for a stroke. “I spent some time in America, when I was young. I ran into Might there, and we spent a lot of time together. We have been good friends since. I have been his Japanese translator since the early days, and I helped him broker the deal for his retirement home.”
Shota had retrieved a small notebook from his bag (fresh for the case, if he could call this project that) to jot down a couple of lines. The whole picture hadn’t even begun to emerge yet, he could tell, but the early steps were important. “And why does he want to talk to me now?”
Yagi stopped scratching at Quirk, then lifted the same hand to the back of his neck to laugh a little. “Maybe he misses people. I don’t know. The press didn’t stop hounding him for so long, I think he just wanted a break.”
“A decade long break?”
The man across from him shrugged. “Musicians can take breaks for a decade or longer - Might was still writing, still contacting me, so I didn’t worry too much.” Shota tapped his pen to his lip, watching Yagi scoop Quirk up as he stood. Yagi seemed like the type to care deeply, just based on how he’d spoken about Midoriya, so he had trouble believing the man didn’t worry about such a close friend. “Would you like some tea, Aizawa?”
“No thank you.” He took the opportunity to look around the office as Yagi opened the door to call for Midoriya. It was a sparse room. A plant tucked away in the corner behind a cabinet, with what looked like a small oxygen tank left next to it. There was a board on the wall with a few articles about the shop pinned methodically around, as well as one on Might and a few coupons for what looked like a nearby convenience store.
The desk was plain, other than two framed photos. One was from an area Shota could only guess was Yakushima with a young blond woman (Too young to be his wife - Might’s daughter? Or maybe Yagi’s?) and one in front of the store with Midoriya. Based on Midoriya’s general size, it was from a few years ago. Yagi was pulled up to his full height, and Midoriya looked small, barely coming up to the man’s chest. He looked nervous, and Yagi was wearing an oversized vintage style yellow pinstripe suit, somehow looking even more slight than he had sitting in front of Shota today. He spotted Quir in the background,, sitting by the door of the shop, and felt himself smile a little.
Aizawa looked down at what he’d written so far. Yagi Toshinori, circled with a question mark. Yakushima. David Shield was jotted down, not a writer but a scientist Might had supposedly collaborated with, and met in America. Midoriya, he scribbled, as an afterthought, furrowing his brow. He’d barely spoken with Yagi today and he already felt like the man was suspicious of him, though that did seem to be a feeling most people he worked with got from him.
Quirk had returned the room, and he stared as the cat hopped into the chair next to him. “Your master has secrets, huh,” he said softly, reaching out to scratch at the cat’s ruff. His collar was red with blue markings,
Yagi entered the room again, with a small tray that held two teacups and a pot. “In case you change your mind,” he explained as Shota eyed the tray.
“You said Might had some health issues. You have some yourself?” Yagi looked at him with a serious face, but Shota simply gestured back to the oxygen tank with a tip of his head.
“Oh, that.” The man straightened, then deflated a little, placing the tray on the desk. “I had an accident a few years ago myself. Had some extensive surgery done, I’m missing a lung you know. Some days are better than others. Today is a good day.”
Shota felt his eyes widen in surprise, but he tried not to let any more show on his face as he reassessed the man in front of him. Missing a lung, probably more. If the photo with Midoriya had been from years ago, he could see why he would have looked worse off. He mentioned so, pointing to the photo.
Yagi gave him a small smile. “You don’t pull any punches, huh?”
“If you wanted them pulled, you should have told your friend to get a different journalist for his personal piece.”
That made Yagi smile, and Shota felt pleasure shoot through him as the man nodded along in agreement. “Okay, okay. Fair enough. Yes, I inherited the shop, not long after my accident. I hired Midoriya from the neighborhood. It was particularly bad then for me, but I’ve had reasons to keep going.” He poured himself a cup of tea. “Quirk. Midoriya and his mother. My friends, Might and Shield.” Shota thought of the young woman in the other photo, and wondered if there was more he wasn’t mentioning. A lover, perhaps, that he wanted to keep quiet? But again, why would he talk to Shota if he wanted it kept quiet? Might could have just contacted him himself, there was no need for this third party.
He found himself wondering again - who exactly was Yagi Toshinori?
“Sounds like you have a good support system,” he offered instead.
“I didn’t always,” Yagi said, sounding dark for a moment. “But I inherited the bookstore, so I stepped up. The previous owner was a big fan of Might’s work, and he knew I’d keep it the way he liked it. He had a private collection of signed Might books I keep good care of.” He offered to pour another cup with a gesture, one last time, but Shota declined again with a shake of his head. “I did take the liberty of changing the name.”
Shota watched Yagi pick up his cup, cradling it in his hands as though he enjoyed the heat. He wondered for a moment if those careful hands had arthritis, or some other pain that made the man relax like that. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. Reviews say you and your staff are friendly, and they can always count on you having the latest Western releases.”
Yagi nodded. “It’s easy to be in the loop when you help publish the books.” Those sharp eyes were on Shota again. “Do you want to do a piece on Allan Might, Aizawa-kun?”
Shota shrugged, settling into the chair. He removed his hand from Quirk long enough to mark down ‘Look up previous owner’. “It’s so far been unusual enough to keep my interest. Since the Stain case is almost wrapped up I’ve been doing a lot of interviews myself. I’d rather work on something else.”
“You think it’s unusual?” When Yagi raised his eyebrows in surprise he somehow, suddenly looked much younger. The shadows from his sharp brow softened, and Shota was able to get a good look at striking blue eyes. Shota felt his mouth shape into a smile, the one that Nemuri had told him on multiple occasions looked mean-spirited and made people uncomfortable. This seemed to make Yagi even more surprised, and Shota almost laughed.
“Sure is.” Shota didn’t need to glance down at his notes to know the facts weren’t all adding up, but he didn’t elaborate further and Yagi didn’t ask.
“You don’t like giving interviews?”
“I don’t want the publicity, that’s not why I follow the cases.” He watched Yagi nod thoughtfully, settling back into the chair. Shota continued to pet Quirk as he surveyed the man in front of him. Yagi Toshinori isn’t much to look at, the article could start, but that wasn’t quite true. Gaunt and gangly, he was awkward in his own body at his age, likely dropping weight after surgeries to recover from the accident that had been mentioned. Yagi Toshinori is a proud man, he could start with instead, but Shota had a gut feeling the man would be overwhelmingly humble, if pressed. The bookstore was successful, but a friend had left it to him. And he was proud of Midoriya, but the young man was an employee, and presumably a friend.
Yagi coughed, and it wracked his whole body. Yagi Toshinori seems largely unwell. Well that was true at least.
“Then why do you follow the cases?”
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t like interviews,” he grumbled, looking back to the corkboard to stall. Yagi had called him out on not pulling any punches, but he had a talent for it himself. “I lost someone when I was young. In,” he glanced at Yagi, then away again. “In an accident. He was a victim, and it was swept under the rug in the investigation. That was bullshit. No one deserves that.”
The man seemed thoughtful. “Thank you for your work, Aizawa-kun.” Shota felt himself grow uncomfortable with the praise, and waved his hand around dismissively.
“So do I have the job?” He changed the subject hard, not letting Yagi get any ideas to continue praising him or asking questions.
Yagi gave him a bright smile, and Shota felt himself squint as though it really was emitting light. “I’ll discuss it with Allan. But I think you have a good shot.” Shota only grunted, which made the other man laugh.
They walked to the entrance together, passing by Midoriya sitting frozen at the front desk as though he would get in trouble if they noticed him. Quirk followed too, rubbing against both Yagi and Shota’s legs in turn. He was about to take the door, but he froze himself. “Oh, do you have-” he turned back to look at Yagi. “Do you have any signed books right now?”
Yagi’s head tilted, and behind him Midoriya slowly turned his body towards the conversation. “Many, Aizawa-kun, whose signature are you looking for?”
He felt his face heat a little. “Allan Might’s.”
He was awarded with another one of those bright smiles. “I didn’t know you were a fan. You like schlocky thrillers?”
“It’s not for me.” He felt feral for a moment, he could just run out the door, but Yagi was bustling to another part of the store and Midoriya had begun to shake a little. “My coworker - Yamada - the man Tsukauchi spoke to -”
Yagi’s laugh was deep, even from across the store it settled in Shota’s chest and rumbled through it. “I’m only teasing, Aizawa, which book does he like?”
Shota could only grumble again, crossing his arms and looking away from Midoriya, who he needed to have a chat with about his lack of even attempting a poker face.
“This one then.” Yagi handed him a book titled Origin , a plain white cover with only the title written on it. “It’s the first in the series, I hope Yamada-san likes it.”
He took the book with a huff and a nod. “Let’s talk soon.”
Midoriya and Yagi said their farewells at the same time as he left the building. Shota shoved the book into his bag, still feeling flustered as he started heading back in the direction of his office. He had research to do - and Hizashi was going to owe him a drink when this was all done.