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Todoroki Shouto doesn’t fit the image of an archivist.
And to be fair, Izuku’s not really sure what the image of an archivist is supposed to be, really, but still. He sometimes imagines old, balding men sitting in suits and huddled over piles of dusty old books on wooden tables, reading by candlelight? Maybe, if it was still the 13th century, yes. As it stands, it’s a freezing cold March night in modern times, and Izuku’s about to fall asleep waiting for the thousand-page document he spent all afternoon painstakingly binding with a protection spell to settle. The half-full cup of coffee sitting next to his lamp has gone cold by now, and he silently laments the waste of a perfectly good drink that he had forgotten all about when Iida interrupted his usual work with a pile of newly transcribed sources almost four hours ago.
A wet nose nudges at the back of his hand and Izuku jolts upright, grunting a little as he pushes his skewed glasses upright on his nose. Shooter, his border collie familiar, pushes her soft head against his thigh, gently butting him as though trying to keep him awake. Izuku hums indistinctly, giving her a gentle scratch under her chin. Shooter wags her tail, thumping it happily against the wooden floorboards. He checks his watch—heavens, it’s almost nine in the evening. No wonder he’s exhausted.
A figure strides back into the lobby of the fourth floor, pushing a mostly-empty trolley of heavy books towards the rows of shelves opposite his desk, and Izuku perks up slightly.
Todoroki only started working at Aldera Library and Record Archives four weeks ago, but he’s already cemented himself as a poised and hardworking individual, as well as an eternal enigma. Tall, tousled-hair that splits evenly between red and white, with stylish glasses perched on a perfectly sloping nose, Todoroki immediately earns wistful sighs of handsomeness and beauty from the other archivists, but also curious whispers about the angry red scar that covers the left side of his face. He dresses in a kind of dated, proper gentleman-ly fashion that doesn’t really suit his broad shoulders and his long, commanding gait, or the lean doberman familiar that walks briskly by his side. His specializes in the maintenance and preservation of elder texts, quickly making him one of the Head Archivist’s favourites and go-tos when it came to the proper care of centuries-old books while at the same time gaining the ire and jealousy of other archivists who have yet to earn that favour.
Very enigmatic, he is.
Todoroki turns, his eyes meeting Izuku’s dead on, and Izuku jumps, heart leaping in his chest as he’s caught staring. He whirls away to find something to hide his face behind, and scrambles for the first book left on top of the pile on his desk, opening it and lifting it to cover his face.
A pause; and then footsteps start up again as Todoroki strolls away, trolley squeaking behind him as he goes, presumably continuing his search for the correct shelf to return the books to. The acoustics of the high-ceilinged lobby carries the echo of his departure, letting it bounce around the walls until it fades away completely.
Izuku lowers the book, exhaling slowly, cheeks burning. Then he looks down and realizes he’d been holding the book upside down the entire time, and Todoroki… definitely saw him pretend he wasn’t looking. Was it possible to perish from embarrassment?
Fortunately, Todoroki doesn’t walk by for the rest of his shift.
The enchanted clock in the front lobby chimes loudly, a cacophony of bells and other rattling parts, signaling nine o’clock. Wonderful, he thinks, standing from his chair with an almighty stretch and a rather concerning crack of his back. Shooter jumps up from her spot on the ground, ears perked as Izuku grabs the cold coffee, tosses it into the bin beneath the desk, and makes quick work of storing the textbooks in one of the locked cabinets behind his workspace. Outside, the row of windows shows little rivulets of rain still streaking down the glass. It’s cold and gloomy, and Izuku doesn’t look forward to the walk home as he gets ready to lock up.
“Um, Todoroki-san?” he calls, clutching the strap of his rucksack as he wanders down the dim hallway, glancing to and fro. He could’ve sworn the archivist went down this way, but the history section is quiet and empty. “Hello? Anybody there?”
A sudden gust of wind outside sends a spray of rain against the windows, the sound loud against the glass, followed by a sudden bang! Izuku jerks, peering around the shelf, and sees that one of the window panes has come loose, flapping madly from the gale.
Yelping, he scurries over, shoving the window close and latching it shut again. It rattles, but the flimsy latch holds. The building itself is ancient—he figures he’ll tell the Operations Manager about it first thing when he gets it tomorrow, but for now, it doesn’t look like it’s in danger of becoming undone again. The books nearby are also luckily untouched, but there’s a small puddle of water on the floor. Izuku is contemplating on whether or not he could clean it up with his pocket tissues or if he should go downstairs for a mop when—
“Midoriya.”
Izuku shrieks and spins around, startled by the voice coming suddenly from behind him, and his foot skids against the wet patch on the floor.
In the blink of an eye, someone grabs him by the arm and the waist, hauling him back upright, and saving him from probably a seriously painful fall onto the ground. Heart beating frantically in his chest, Izuku sputters when he comes face-to-face with Todoroki’s impassive one. His hands shoot out instinctively and clutches at the front of Todoroki’s vest.
“T-T-Todoroki-san?!”
Todoroki gives him a once-over. “Are you alright?”
“I’m-I’m fine. What are you doing over here?” Izuku stammers.
“Shelving. I just finished. Isn’t it time to close up?”
“Y-Yeah. But I was looking for you… and then I heard the window being blown open.”
“And you came to investigate,” Todoroki summarizes. He doesn’t sound surprised, or annoyed. His heterochromatic eyes remain focused on Izuku’s face, and Izuku can feel his cheeks heating up very slowly, feeling strangely breathless as he squeezes his fist into the fabric.
The moment breaks when Shooter suddenly barks from beside him, curt but loud, and Todoroki blinks down at her before removing his hands from Izuku. It’s a bit of a loss—his palms had been quite warm even against Izuku’s bulky sweater. The doberman trots out from the shadows of the shelves and sniffs curiously at Izuku’s familiar, before Shooter chuffs at him and makes the doberman settle. Then she tilts her head and gives Izuku a knowing look.
Todoroki sighs and glances at the windows. “You can head out first, if you want,” he says. “I still have to return the trolley to the storage room, and the weather doesn’t look like it’s getting any better.”
“Oh! But the key—”
The corner of Todoroki’s mouth twitches upwards, almost a smirk. “I have one too,” he says, pulling an old, ornate key on a thin red ribbon from his pocket. “The Head Archivist gave it to me when I was working overtime. Don’t tell the others, though, they might say it’s favouritism. Well, not that they’re wrong, really.”
“That’s okay!” Izuku hurried to say, waving his hands. “I’m sure if the Head Archivist approved of it then it’s fine. Besides, you’re just doing your job. The others have no business being jealous.”
Todoroki’s smirk softens a little. “Yes,” he nods, sounding almost amused for some reason. “Just doing my job. Go home, Midoriya. And do be careful.”
“Y-You too,” Izuku manages, and all but high-tails it out of the history section, down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor, and flicks open his umbrella before pushing the front doors open and stepping outside.
The rain had gotten worse in the minutes he spent talking with Todoroki upstairs, transforming into a torrential downpour as he hurried home. The streets are empty tonight, without a soul in sight. Izuku huddles into the hood of his sweater as he passes by a lonely automobile parked along the road, racing for the bridge crossing over Takoba beach. Shooter whines by his side, glued to his legs as they walk home together.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku gasps, fingertips frozen on his umbrella as they go. “How ‘bout we get dinner from Jisai’s tonight, hm? They might even have a discount on the hamburger steaks.”
Shooter barks, an obvious agreement.
Jisai’s is one of the few diners still open this late at night, owned by a kindly widower who makes the best udon bone broth Izuku’s tasted to date. The thought of a hot dinner inside his tiny apartment while the storm rages outside is extremely appealing, at least until Izuku reaches into his pocket and finds nothing.
His wallet. He’d left it in the library.
“Gods, no,” Izuku groans, and ignoring Shooter’s despairing whine, turns on his heel and starts running back the way he came. He’s drenched by the time he staggers up to the library, fumbling for his keys, but when he slides it into the keyhole, the key turns without any resistance, and Izuku blinks.
The door wasn’t locked.
Biting his lip, he eases the front door open slowly, wary of the squeaky hinges, and peers into the darkened library. The lamps on the walls have been shut off, and the only sources of light came from the streetlamps outside. A fresh gust of wind urges him forward, and Izuku slips soundlessly inside, Shooter hot on his tail. He eases the door shut behind him, and frowns. Has Todoroki left already? If so, why didn’t he lock the door behind him?
Shooter shakes the water off her fur, sending water droplets onto the floor, and then patters silently forward. She sniffs at the bottom of the grand staircase leading up to the second level and perks her ears up, glancing back at Izuku, who swallows past the lump in his throat.
Someone was upstairs.
In the silence of the library, every noise seems to amplify as he snuck up the steps as quietly as he could, praying for the sound of the rain to hide each creaky floorboard, and each thump of his foot against the ground. Shooter trots anxiously by his side, sometimes going ahead a few paces before turning back to him, guiding Izuku further into the darkness of the library.
His wallet is still on his desk when he reaches the fourth floor, and Izuku pockets it silently. A part of him wonders if he should contact the Head Archivist, or call for the police, but there’s nothing for him to actually report. What would he even say? He and his familiar had a hunch that someone had broken into the library? They’d probably think it was a crank call.
Clutching the handle of his umbrella, he creeps deeper into the library, keeping his back against the shelves, ears perked for any signs of life. There’s nothing, not even a shadow to be found amongst the rows of shelves, no signs of life hidden amongst the squashy armchairs in the smoke room, and nobody in the bathrooms either. He’s about to double back to the archivists’ desks when he sees it.
A faint line of light, coming from beneath the gap of the door of the library’s private collection.
Izuku’s blood runs cold. The private collection is a separate room in the library that houses special books and files, but is also space rented to famous collectors and rich merchants hoping to store their precious property behind charms and spellwork. Aldera’s private collection isn’t big, but there are a few artefacts hidden in there that even the Head Archivist must get permission from the Board of Archivists to access. So who could it be? Thieves? Robbers?
He hurries over to the door and tries the handle—unlocked again. The door swings open silently, presenting what looked like a mixture of a storage area and a library. Most shelves were covered in heavy, dusty tarps, and others locked behind enchanted glass. A few ornate trunks line the wall, wrapped in chains and padlocks. The brightest glow shines at the end of the room, and Izuku freezes when he hears the sounds of two men speaking quietly to each other.
“—couldn’t have mentioned the re-setting dial, huh? That might’ve been some fucking important information to give me before we started taking this whole operation—”
“I told you already,” a familiar voice says, and Izuku’s stomach drops when he realizes it’s Todoroki’s voice. “This room is totally inaccessible even to the most senior Archivist they had working here. It took me weeks of pointless flattery to even get her to talk about what they stored inside—”
“Oh boo fuckin’ hoo,” he first voice sneers, and strangely enough, it’s also oddly familiar. “You had to flirt with some older woman for a few hours of your day, what a terrible job.”
“I’ve been the only one here doing any interior canvassing for four weeks,” Todoroki snaps.
“All the more time you had to figure out the schematics of this damn thing—”
“Guys,” a third voice suddenly sounds, strangely low and echoey. “Can we save the bickering for some other time? We’re on a bit of a tight schedule here.”
“Oh I’m sorry, are you the one currently trying to undo a fucking enchanted dial lock that keeps resetting itself while also preventing the rest of the safeguards from murdering the two of us in one go? If Pretty Boy had—”
“Watch the mechanism,” Todoroki hisses, and Izuku finally creeps forward enough to peek around one of the tarp-covered shelves, only to choke on a gasp before he could stop himself.
“Kaachan?! ”
The two men and their familiars jump and whirl around in tandem. Todoroki’s mismatched eyes widen in shock, but Izuku doesn’t quite register him yet, because he’s staring slack-jawed at the undeniable presence of Bakugo Katsuki, his closest childhood friend that he hasn’t seen in nearly six years.
“Midoriya?” Todoroki chokes out.
“Izuku? The fuck?!” Katsuki shouts, his default when he’s caught off guard. Howitzer, his rottweiler familiar, barks in recognition and wags his tail madly.
“Guys!” the echoey, disembodied voice suddenly yells. “You’ve got company!”
In an instant, everything dissolved into pandemonium. Todoroki whips around to stare at Katsuki, and Katsuki curses colourfully.
“Fuckin’ fuck this, we’re out of time—Todoroki, hold that end. Izuku, get your ass over here now!”
“B-But—”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Katsuki bellows. “Now, you idiot!”
Izuku drops his umbrella and scrambles over. Up close, he can now see the assortment of tools and spellpickers stuffed into the pockets of Katsuki’s vest, and the toolbelt wrapped around his waist. There’s also a terrifying amount of shotgun shells lining every part of his body, and the weapon itself hangs over his shoulder.
“Hold this,” Katsuki snarls, gesturing to the sides of a very heavy-looking metal box. It’s flat and rectangular, with locks and dials and gears interlocking the surface. On each end is a metal handle. Narrow, sizzling spellpicking rods stick out from various spots on the box where it’s apparently hammered in, holding back what looks like a bunch of different curses protecting the contents inside.
“Don’t touch those,” Todoroki warns. “It’ll blast your head right off your shoulders.”
“What?!” Izuku cries, and Shooter whines at his side.
“Stop jabbering,” Katsuki snaps. He pops open one of the shotgun shells and begins tapping a thin line of gunpowder around the box. Then he presses his hands flat against it, and the warm glow of magic envelopes his palms. “On the count of three, you fuckers need to yank this thing up as hard as you can while I blast the metal reinforcements to kingdom come. One—”
“Wait, what?!”
“Three!” Katsuki roars, his palms sparking to life, and Izuku wrenches the box up as hard as he could.
A deafening boom shakes the entire room from ceiling to floor, sending dust onto them, and the box seems to rattle violently in their hands. The spellpicking rods vibrate loudly, and Izuku gulps when he sees the curses try and fail to activate. The whole thing is quite heavy, weighing down on his hands as he struggles to balance everything.
And then, of course, the library’s intruder alarm starts to blare.
“Guys!” the disembodied voice shouts. “Where are you, you have to get out of there! Nine and his crew just walked into the building!”
“Damn it,” Todoroki growls. His gaze snaps to Izuku, terrifyingly intense. “I can explain later. But you have to come with us now. It’s not safe down there anymore.”
“Why?” Izuku sputters. “Who’s this Nine you’re talking about?”
“No time,” Katsuki snarls, wrenching the shotgun off his back and loading it up. “Move fast if you don’t wanna get killed.”
“Killed? Kaachan, what are you talking about—”
“Just shut up and go!”
“We’re taking the service elevator to the back,” Todoroki says, as the two of them shuffle as fast as they can to the doorway with the box between them. “Keep your head down and do as I say, okay? I promise you we aren’t the bad guys here.”
“If you don’t hurry it up I’m gonna have to commit a murder and really turn into one,” Katsuki says, levelling the shotgun as they scurry into the darkness. The service elevator sits in a side hall of the fourth floor, normally out of sight for the patrons and used by the archivists to ferry large items up and down the library. Katsuki wrenches the crank to call the lift up before whirling around with a snarl.
“There they are,” he hisses, and Izuku’s jaw drops to the floor.
Two dragon-like monsters prowl around the corner of the hall, bigger than their familiars, with a body covered in a mixture of scales and black smoke. Their eyes are purple, and their jaws open to reveal sharp fangs. Terrifyingly sharp claws carve grooves into the floor as they approach, snapping and biting. Howitzer and the doberman drop into defensive stances, furious growls rumbling from their bellies.
Katsuki shoots without warning; there’s a flash and a bang! and one of the monsters shrieks, writhing as a bullet pierces through its flank. Black blood splatters on the floor, and Howitzer launches itself at the monster, barking fiercely before he angrily clamps his jaw around the monster’s neck. Katsuki fires at the next one, which dodges, and there’s the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the distance.
“Fuckin’ snake,” Katsuki growls, popping the shells out and quickly reloading, his movements smooth with practiced ease.
The elevator dings with its arrival, and Todoroki kicks aside the gate. “Katsuki!” he shouts as he and Izuku do their weird crab shuffle into the elevator, their familiars by their side. “Get over here!”
Katsuki whistles sharply and backs in. As soon as Howitzer leaps over the threshold he slams the gate shut and locks it, and not a moment too soon.
The monsters slam up against it, jaws snapping, claws screeching against metal. The familiars are barking in a frenzy and Izuku plasters himself against the wall, barely managing to avoid getting his arm bitten off. Katsuki swears again and shoots one right between its eyes, and it slumps to the ground, dissolving into a pile of ash. Izuku grabs the lever and cranks it down at once, and the second monster barely manages to snatch its face back before they’re plummeting downstairs, panting heavily.
The elevator shudders to a halt on the ground floor, and Katsuki flings it open, giving their surroundings a quick look around before waving them out.
“Fuckin’ hurry, the last thing we need is for them to see our ride.”
“Your ride?” Izuku asks, as Katsuki unlocks the back door and shoulders it open, revealing an idling automobile parked along the curb of the street. Izuku startles when he realizes it’s the same one he passed on his way home.
“What, you think we were legging it with this damn thing?” Katsuki shouts over the downpour outside. “Just get your ass and the familiars in the back.”
He wrenches open one of the doors, and Todoroki carefully climbs in backwards, leaving Izuku to scramble after him.
Katsuki slams the door shut the second Shooter’s tail is safely out of the way and climbs into the passenger seat. “Gun it,” he snaps to the driver, a handsome man with fiery red hair underneath his cap and bright, kind eyes.
“Gotcha!” he says cheerfully, and does some complicated lever-cranking and gear-shifting before the engine kicks to life and they’re lurching down the street in a flurry of putters and metallic roars.
Izuku exhales, slowly lifting his hands off the box. He massages his cramped fingers and winces as the automobile gains speed and nearly hops the curb, zipping speedily away under the darkness of night.
“Watch it,” Katsuki hisses, bracing a hand against the roof. “The curses are still active on that fucking thing, d’you want to blow us up?”
“Sorry,” the redhead says sheepishly, and then adds in a rather fond tone, “That’s more of your style, isn’t it, Katsuki?”
“Shut up—”
“By the way, who’s that you’ve brought along?” The driver interrupts seamlessly, and Izuku’s brain does mental gymnastics trying to process the fact that someone can speak fondly to Katsuki and interrupt him without losing a limb. “Not that I mind! I’m just curious, seeing as you guys went in as two and came running out as three.”
“It was an unexpected turn of events,” Todoroki admits, squishing to the side of the automobile as his doberman tries to scramble into the open trunk. There’s a big, bulky boxer sitting upright in the back with a handsome rusty red coat—undoubtedly the driver’s familiar.
Izuku gasps when it finally clicks. “You’re the disembodied voice from earlier!”
The man grins. “That’s right! I had to keep this baby running but it’s risky to not stay in contact, so I made these.” He lifts up a small, hammered piece of copper attached to a cord around his neck. It vibrates faintly on its own. “They’re all charmed and can carry soundwaves to their matching counterparts. Shouto and Katsuki both have one.”
“How did you come up with that?” Izuku breathes, staring at the piece of metal.
Katsuki snorts. “Eijirou’s our driver and tinkerer—”
“I’m an inventor,” Eijirou cuts in hotly. “Now are you gonna introduce me or not?!”
“Fuck off, I was getting to it. Ei, this is Midoriya Izuku, he’s some kid I know from back in the day—”
“ ‘Some kid’?!” Izuku squawks, finally shaking off the shock and coming back to himself. “Excuse you, Kaachan, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers—”
“ ‘Kaachan’?” Eijirou repeats, looking absolutely delighted.
“—not to mention we went to the same primary school, middle school, and high school, our moms have been friends for decades, and speaking of our moms, why on earth haven’t you sent a post to Mitsuki all these years?! And where the hell have you been?! She’s been worried about you this whole time, even if she doesn’t show it!”
He punctuates that with a punch to Katsuki’s shoulder, which immediately makes his wrist ache, because ow, Katsuki’s seriously bulked up over the years.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Katsuki retorts, smacking him back. “I know damn well I haven’t sent any fucking post to my mom, I don’t need you on my ass about it either—stop fuckin’ hitting me you stupid nerd—”
“What could possibly be so important that you never reached out? For six years?!”
“Because of all this shit!” Katsuki snarls between their oh-so mature slap fight, wincing when Izuku manages to land a solid one right on his face. “You think I want my parents or you and your mom to get caught up in what we’re doing? Pulling heists and breaking into private collections and fighting underworld crimes?!”
Izuku freezes, running the words through his head. Katsuki gives him one last shove, but it’s half-hearted at best.
“Fucking ass—when did you get so fit, huh? Thought all you nerds did all day was copy notes and write spells for books.”
“Around the same time you disappeared,” Izuku retorts, and Katsuki grimaces.
“I just told you,” he says, quieter now. “It ain’t exactly legal stuff, you know.”
“So? I would’ve come with you,” Izuku says, steely.
Katsuki lifts his head and glares long-sufferingly at him. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you where the fuck I was going.”
A fissure of hurt opens up in Izuku’s chest—of all the ways he imagined their potential reunion to go, this was, admittedly, not a scenario he had in mind. He envisioned some explosions, probably, maybe Katsuki returning with a fortune, and on the bad nights, his best friend in a coffin. The radio silence was made worse only by the unknown, whether or not Katsuki will ever return, or if Izuku would ever see him again.
Todoroki coughs delicately, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.
“This isn’t exactly a safe profession either, Midoriya,” Todoroki says quietly. “And it really isn’t something to get involved in if you can help it.”
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Izuku huffs, trying hard not to sound petulant. “Bit too late for that.”
The corner of Todoroki’s mouth ticks upward again, though this time he looks more amused than anything else.
“You’ve got a point there.”
“So…new crew member?” Eijirou asks hopefully, and immediately gets smacked upside the head by Katsuki.
“No.”
“New crew member!” Eijirou wheedles, making a sharp left.
“Did you not fucking hear the whole bit where I was trying to keep Deku out of this shit—”
“Actually,” Todoroki interrupts, a pensive look on his face. His mismatched eyes are accessing as he scans Izuku from head to toe, in that strangely captivating and intense way that he does. “Midoriya, you’re a Senior Librarian at Aldera, correct?”
“Uh—yes?”
“So you’re used to doing research and organizing files,” Todoroki points out. “You have knowledge of all the classical systems and the New Age systems. And you’re no doubt well-versed in a lot of relic terminology, historical records, and old scriptures, yes?”
“I know every branch of the traditional and simplified Common Script,” Izuku nods. “And International Script, and Estrean, Omeshiki, Bridge runes, some sects of the scientific tongue, and Old Republic characters—”
Eijirou whistles, impressed, while Katsuki whirls around to gape at him.
“When the fresh hell did you find time to learn OR—”
“I’m fluent in everything as far back before the 15th century split,” Izuku answers, only faintly smug. He and Katsuki used to try and race each other finishing their language workbooks—Katsuki was a better speaker, but Izuku picked up all the reading and comprehension faster. Unbidden, he thinks back to their childhood days, huddled under a makeshift blanket tent at one of their many sleepovers, thick tomes and borrowed maps and scribbled-in notebooks strewn between them as they giggled and poured over the ancient works by the glow of their cranklights. He twists the damp sleeve of his shirt, suddenly very tired.
Todoroki leans back in his seat, looking satisfied.
“He’ll be an asset, Katsuki,” he says. “We could really use his expertise.”
“Fuck off,” Katsuki snaps. “This isn’t a joke.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? And since I’m the only one who went in to canvas the library and therefore spent a solid month watching Midoriya work, I think I’m the only one who can pass judgment on his character and skills right now. Besides, he’s already involved, in spite of our best efforts. This way, we can keep him safe and hopefully get a move on our plans.”
Katsuki glares hard, and turns to Eijirou. “Back me up here,” he demands, but Eijirou just shrugs helplessly.
“Babe, you are fully aware I never finished high school, right? I’m good with machines and gears and stuff, but all this text? Ain’t my thang. So if there’s someone who knows more languages than even you or Sho, it’ll cut down on so much of our work. And I dunno if you saw back there, but Nine is getting closer and closer. We’re running out of time.”
The answer clearly doesn’t placate Katsuki; Izuku can literally see the vein throbbing in his temple. Undeterred, he leans forward in his seat, grabbing his old friend by the wrist. Katsuki jerks, scowling at him, but it lacks any real heat.
“Kachaan,” Izuku implores. “Let me help. I’m glad you’re looking out for me, that you want to keep me safe, but like Tordoroki said, I’m already in whether you like it or not. Why not make the most of my nerd brain while you’re at it?”
The car is quiet for a long time, save for the sounds of the engine and the snuffles of the familiars in the back, but after a moment of intense glaring, Katsuki bristles and pulls his wrist away, reluctant resignation written all over his face.
“If we do this, I am gonna run your ass to the ground training,” he snaps, and Izuku lights up with delight. “Don’t go all googly-eyed on me, twerp! If you want to survive this gig, I’m gonna need you to learn how to fuckin’ fight and stick up for yourself, you hear?! Oi, Half n’ Half, what’re you smirking at? You’re gonna be training him too, pronto! Don’t think you can dump this dweeb on me and get off scot-free!”
“I’m looking forward to working with Midoriya,” Todoroki replies plainly, satisfaction evident on his face. “For real this time.” He catches Izuku’s eye, and he winks.
Heat like never before floods his cheeks and threatens to send steam gushing out of Izuku’s ears.
“G-Glad to help!” He stammers in reply, and faintly hears Katsuki muttering “Fucking gods spare me.”
“Our fight is an underhanded, but necessary one,” Todoroki says, seriousness taking over. “You saw one of our worst enemies, Nine, attempting to steal this—” he places a hand over the stolen metal box between them. “We believe it holds a part of an ancient scripture that will reveal the location of a sealed, clandestine God of Destruction known as All for One.”
Izuku’s jaw drops. “Gods?! You’re looking for the Gods?!”
“Not looking,” Katsuki says grimly. “We’re working with some of them. If we want to prevent the next Dark Age from taking over civilization as we know it, we’ve gotta stop Nine and his cult from waking All for One.”
“We’ll need your help deciphering the scripture and digging out clues,” Todoroki continues. “It’s a dangerous mission, Midoriya. But we need—”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been preparing for this since I was a kid,” Izuku says, heart hammering in his chest. Behind them, Shooter barks in agreement. “I’ve got—oh, I wish we could go back to my place and grab my decoding kit and pack, I’ve got a bunch of useful charts and references stored up, along with emergency food and survival gear, and I actually bought a new weather-proof and travel-safe pack to store it all in for easy transportation, because you never know if explorers or expeditions will contact the library to hire on a researcher to bring on excavations or if the world will suddenly end—”
“I told you,” Katsuki groans, covering his face as Eijirou laughs and laughs, “Deku’s a doomsday prepper and history buff. You’re never going to hear the end of it.”
“Maybe we can send someone to swing by your place and get your things,” Todoroki suggests. “Camie might be able to? We’re in a bit of a time crunch, unfortunately, seeing as we’ve got the scripture and all. And the fact that we broke into the library’s vaults.”
“Where are we going?” Izuku asks, peering outside the window—the rain is heavy, but it looks like they’re headed down to the waterways. It’s a gloomy night, but Eijirou seems to know where he’s going, even as he switches the headlights off and brings the automobile down an unmarked path towards the waterway.
“You’ll see,” Todoroki says, and he’s suddenly up in Izuku’s space, looking out the window himself. A faintly fragrant scent of cologne fills his nose, and Izuku has to stifle a little noise of surprise, shifting closer to the door. Oh, Gods, a handsome man is pressing right up to his side, and he such a useless gay sometimes.
In the low lighting below the bridge, the air suddenly ripples, and Izuku gasps as an entire airship fizzles into view as its camouflage drops. It’s a hardy-looking machine, sleek and stealthy, but with a robust-looking defense system mounted in the roost. As the car rolls up, Eijirou flicks a few switches on the dial, and a small hatch opens up in the underbelly, easily accommodating their automobile inside.
“Home sweet home,” the inventor says, switching the car off and popping the trunk. The familiars all spill out, eager to get their paws back on the ground. “Let’s get this baby rolling! C’mon, Blasty!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki grumbles. “Best not to hang about. Oi, Deku, don’t touch shit and don’t fall off, you hear? Inko will skin me alive if you fell out of an airship.”
“Relax,” Eijirou laughs, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders and pulling him away. “Shouto’ll take good care of him!”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but allows himself to be led away. A sharp whistle gets Howitzer and the boxer to trot after them, leaving Izuku behind with Todoroki and the huge metal box, the spellpicks still zinging in their slots.
“It’ll take them some time to get the airship up and running,” Todoroki says. “But as soon as we’re in the air it’ll be harder for Nine to track us down. In the meantime, we can secure this and leave Katsuki to deal with it later.”
And then he sheds his coat, leaving him in only a crisp white shirt, slightly wet from the rain and clinging to places Izuku could only dream of. Gods, those shoulders. And—abs.
Shooter whines softly at his feet and headbutts him in the ass. The doberman is giving him a very judgemental side-eye.
“Let’s get this up on deck,” Todoroki says. He must be totally oblivious to Izuku’s internal meltdown, because he glances up just as they both take hold of the box, a genuine smile on his face. “I meant it, you know. I really am excited to start working with you for real.”
Oh, heavens help him.
“Me too,” Izuku manages, flashing a wobbly grin in return. “Let’s go save the world, I guess?”
Todoroki chuckles, eyes crinkling ever-so slightly in amusement as they hefted the box up.
Forget Nine, and his cult, and the old Gods. If Izuku can survive Todoroki Shouto’s real, honest smile, he has a feeling he can handle just about anything.