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Rain washed the industrial landscape of the city in a thick downpour of water, coating the asphalt in layers of puddles, their surfaces disrupted by the onslaught of heavy droplets. Neon signs flashed in shop windows, advertising noodle shops and bars, while massive billboards draped over the skyscrapers towering over the city, colors looping around into each other.
With limited space in the city, buildings were constructed higher and higher, expanding upon existing architecture. Ducts and pipes haphazardly clung to the side of shopfronts, holding them together, while an elevated network of tunnels and walkways hovered in the sky. Down here, the dark city was in an overgrown state of urban decay. People camped in discarded machines while the congestion of cars in the street released a constant cacophony of noise that hummed alongside the chattering voices in the living undercurrent of the city.
The world was rotting, held together by screws and bolts. Rusting metal plates kept the city’s carcass alive for another day, another week, another eternity. Another neon light glinted.
Another light. A lens.
Bakugou Katsuki sat in the interrogator’s chair. A ceiling fan spun overhead, billowing out a lazy breeze that rustled the papers on his desk. With the growing need for colonies, a new type of Replicants entered production, ones that are harder to detect. Every day, he has been interrogating more and more civilians, people brought off the streets for suspicious behaviors such as instant response times or other differentiating behaviors.
It wasn’t his idea to bring in every damn person who acted suspicious. Most of the city acted suspicious anyway. But that was a thought he could only voice to his colleague and roommate, Kirishima, and only when they were sure no one was listening. As a Blade Runner, Katsuki was scrutinized carefully. The slightest hint of empathy towards the Replicants, and it would be his turn to be retired. Killed, he had to remind himself. They were killing the Replicants.
No empathy.
No kindness.
No hesitation.
Bakugou Katsuki was a champion amongst Blade Runners. He never misdiagnosed a Replicant on the test, not even the new, more technologically advanced types. He never held off on making a kill. If he needed to, he could sit here and list all the reasons Replicants couldn’t be allowed to exist on Earth, but it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t dwell on it.
No hesitation.
A woman smiled from a billboard. Flowing purple hair and a mask that covered her eyes. The iconic face of an advertisement for sleeping pills, with a mysterious smile. A slow-moving blimp advertising the off-world colonies drifted across the skyline, low enough that it obscured the view of the billboard for a moment, not large enough to cut off the blaring light from the screen.
The neon depiction of a dragon flickered violently, casting a different colored glow over the inside of the small restaurant with each switch. It was still raining heavily, a cold rain that poured down the back of Katsuki’s raincoat and drenched his body, soaking him so thoroughly that it felt as if he would never be dry again.
With a scowl, he kicked his chair forward further under the awning, blocking off the stream of rain. “Get a better rain cover, old man!”
The owner of the restaurant backed away, intimidation painted across his features. “I will, soon. Sorry, Bakugou-san.”
Nobody called him that. It was just Bakugou. There had been someone, once, a childhood friend with some cutesy nickname, but he had faded away into obscurity with their transition from innocent kids with scraped knees to adults with wounds that wouldn’t heal so easily.
Katsuki had been lucky enough to get away with less than the others he knew. No, not lucky. Just better. He was better than everyone else, good enough to save himself from getting hurt. Picking up his chopsticks, he dipped into his ramen, taking a bite of the warm noodles. The broth was rich and flavorful; not as good as he could make, but decent for a hot meal in a torrent like this.
A voice came from behind him. “Bakugou.”
He didn’t look up from his noodles, hoping the person behind him would go away. Katsuki already knew who it was.
He knew, of course.
“Oi, Bakugou!”
His temper flaring up, Bakugou slammed his chopsticks down and turned with a deathly glare on his face, only to be met with a shock of bright blond hair.
“What the hell do you want, Pikachu?” he spit.
“Hey, hey, I told you I only shocked myself once.”
“You do it every time we have a meeting. What do you want?”
Kaminari ran a hand through his hair, pulling it away sopping wet. He was dripping acid rain all over Katsuki’s ramen. “There’s this job.”
“Do it yourself!”
“The—” He paused, glancing around at the crowded area. “It’s classified. Come with me.”
“No. I’m eating.”
“Just come with me,” he whined. “Please? Or Aizawa-Sensei will kill me. Well, he’ll look at me in that dangerous way, which is even worse.”
Aizawa had been their instructor throughout their Blade Runner training. Though he was now their boss, they were too accustomed to the honorific to change it. Dropping some bills on the table, Katsuki left his hot ramen to follow Kaminari out into the rain, the wet downpour bearing down on his head like a cyclone again.
Kaminari’s vehicle was a modern Spinner he renovated himself, electric bolts painted across the side in vivid yellow paint. Within a few minutes, they were in the air, swooping up and down to avoid pipes jutting out of buildings. The people below faded into pinpricks.
“We brought in a candidate for a test yesterday,” Kaminari said, glancing at him. “He applied for a job as a police officer. In his interview, he said he wanted to help everyone and protect the city.”
Katsuki frowned. “So, what? You dragged me out here because some kid is over-enthusiastic about being a cop?”
“Over-empathy. Apparently, the station was worried that it’s a practiced response. You know, some of these new gen Replicants have software built in that make it harder to tell that sort of stuff. Like programmed emotions.”
“Just get to the point!”
“Fine, fine. They sent him over here for a test. Here’s where it gets weird. The test showed that he’s human.”
“What’s weird about that?”
“Don’t interrupt! He keeps exhibiting a lot of Replicant-style behaviors. He seems to be a bit of a Blade Runner fan—he keeps listing off information about us like he’s got it all memorized, even tiny things, like mission details from years ago. His memories are weirdly isolated—he doesn’t have many friends we could survey, no family except his mother.”
“This shit’s a waste of my time. If he has a mother, he’s not a Replicant.”
“We didn’t get to check the mother. Could be fake. Besides, he could be implanted with false memories and think he’s a human. So, we ran the test again, and it showed that he’s a Replicant.”
Katsuki huffed, getting irritated. “Then what?”
“There was reasonable doubt, since he previously tested as human. We tested him again, and guess what?”
“Human?”
“Human,” Kaminari confirmed. “Now, we can’t just take this one off the grid, because he has this friend, Iida Tenya, who’s working pretty high up in U.A Corps. Iida insists he’s human. We can’t be sure, since he might be one of those weirdos that has a Replicant as a friend. If we try to take a hit out on this guy, we might have killed a human and pissed off an important player.”
“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Run a definitive test. You’re the only Blade Runner in the department who’s never made a false call.”
Katsuki let out a heavy exhale and leaned his head back against the headrest, watching as the city lights glittered amidst the torrent of rain that pattered down on the Spinner like a million little crashes of thunder every second.
A screen. A flash of light.
Glowing red blinked deep in the lens of the machine as Katsuki calibrated it, adjusting it to the right settings. Once it was ready, he leaned back in his seat, waiting for the candidate.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” he called.
The door inched open and the candidate walked in slowly, like the test had already begun. He stayed standing, waiting by the chair.
Katsuki glanced up. “Sit down, dumbass.”
A mess of green curls caught the shine of the xenon lights overhead, and bright eyes looked up to meet Katsuki’s. A dusting of light freckles rested on his cheeks. Everything about him screamed ‘nerd’, not psychotic killer. A smile broke out over his face, far too positive for the situation.
“Hey, I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he said, shifting a little in his seat to get more comfortable. Katsuki clicked a button, and the machine whirred to life, focused on Izuku’s eye.
“Tone down that sunshine, you’ll get it all over my desk,” Katsuki muttered, looking down at the profile page. The name was familiar. “Deku.”
“It’s read as Izuku.”
Green hair. A bridge over a river.
“So, Deku,” he said pointedly, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. It looked like this one was going to be fun.“You know the drill. This test is designed to provoke an emotional response. Answer as quickly as you can.”
“But not too quickly, right?”
He paused. “What?”
Deku looked back at him, his expression far too innocent. “If someone answers too quickly, it’s almost robotic. Like the answers were programmed into them.”
“Shut up! It’s not your job to analyze that.”
“Sorry.”
Katsuki checked on the machine, then began the test. Dual gauges would indicate emotional responses. “You’re watching television, and you realize there’s a wasp on your arm. What do you do?”
Deku smiled again, light and carefree. “Honestly, I’d probably scream, but then I’d try to chase it away with a book or something.”
A beep came from the machine. “You’re reading a magazine, and you come across a full page nude photo. The model is lying on a bearskin rug. You show it to your husband.”
He raised an eyebrow. The gauges showed no substantial reaction. “I have a husband? Isn’t that presumptuous?”
This was part of the test. It all was. “Wife or husband?”
Deku didn’t hesitate. “I’m fine with either.”
“Then there’s no need to question it, huh, nerd?”
“I do have another question. Why would I show something like that to my husband?”
“Because you’re an unstoppable dumbass,” Katsuki deadpanned. Static flashed across the monitor linked to the machine. “You show it to your husband. He likes it so much that he puts it up on your bedroom wall.”
The gauges on the monitor flickered from the green towards the red.
“I’d probably be pretty hurt by that,” Deku mused. “I’m not controlling, but I guess putting up a photo of a naked person on your bedroom wall crosses the line.”
Katsuki glanced back at the monitor. The gauge was inching back towards the left. Pupils slightly dilated. A subtle blush.
“What’s your name?” Deku asked.
“Huh?” He scowled. “Why do you want to know?”
“Is it a crime to know the name of the person who might sentence me to death?”
“So you admit you’re a Replicant?”
No change in heart rate. “I didn’t say that.”
Skipping rocks by a lake. A sunny playground.
Katsuki looked back at him evenly. “It’s Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t interrupt me again. Describe in single words, only the good things that come into your mind about your mother.”
Deku’s face lit up like a bulb switching on. “Kind, sweet, hardworking, determined, thoughtful.”
“You’re reading a novel written in the old days before the war. The characters are at a seafood restaurant. One of them orders lobster, and the chef drops the lobster into the tub of boiling water while the characters watch.”
He shuddered. Both gauges instantly registered past the green onto the red; the needles swung violently, then subsided. “That’s horrible.”
“While walking along in the desert, you suddenly look down and see a tortoise crawling toward you. You reach down and flip it over onto its back.”
The gauge jerked into life, tilting towards the red section. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“But you do.”
“I’d never! Not even for a hypothetical question. Just thinking of it makes me feel sick.”
He pressed on, pushing further. “The tortoise lies there, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs, trying to turn itself over, but it cannot do so without your help. You are not helping.”
Increase in heart rate. Something changed in Deku’s eyes. “Why aren’t I helping?”
Katsuki leaned closer. “You tell me. The tortoise is in the hot sun, dehydrated—”
“I’d help it.”
“But you’re not helping. You said you want to save everyone, Deku. Why aren’t you helping?”
The gauge was flickering wildly, slamming into the red section. His eyes had widened, his body temperature heating up like he was imagining the tortoise in the desert.
“I’d help the tortoise,” Deku said, his expression pleading. “I would. I’d never leave an innocent creature to die—all I want to do is help people. That’s why I tried to become a cop.”
Red. Green. Red. This was an irregular response.
“You think cops help people?” Katsuki said. “Corruption. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s why I want to change the system. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than doing nothing.”
“Why’d you have to go off about wanting to be a hero in your job interview, anyway? That sort of heroic shit is exactly what got you here. It’s suspicious.”
“Being a good person is suspicious?”
“Do you think you’re a good person?”
“I want to be,” he said, determined. “I want to be the sort of person who can save everyone and make them feel safe when I’m around.”
The gauge settled back in the green, and Katsuki relaxed back into his chair. He understood why the previous Blade Runners had such a challenging time with Midoriya Izuku. He had an inkling as to what the diagnosis would be, but the test wasn’t over yet.
“Kacchan?” Deku said, mildly quizzical.
Katsuki snorted. That old nickname. He never thought he would hear it again. “That’s cute, nerd.”
As calmly as if he were continuing a previous conversation, he said, “What about you?”
“What?”
“Why wouldn’t you help the tortoise?”
No hesitation.
“I never said I wouldn’t help,” Katsuki said shortly.
“What if you didn’t help?”
“I wouldn’t turn it over on its back in the first place.”
“But if you did? Would you help it?”
Katsuki stared straight ahead. “Yes.”
Light, light. Like the sun. A neon sign in the rain.
Deku smiled again, too bright, too sweet. It was like staring at the sun. It was nothing like the rain, like neon signs blaring during a downpour and plumes of steam rising off wet asphalt. Katsuki wondered how he could have survived in this city with a face like that, with an attitude that seemed to radiate optimism.
“Kacchan,” Deku said before Katsuki could ask another question. “Why are you trying to kill Replicants, anyway?”
Dangerous. Amoral. Monsters. “They’re killers. Left to their own devices, they all become killers. They have no empathy, no moral compass.”
“These Replicants, you mean?” he said quietly. “The ones you’re trying to hunt down now?”
Katsuki frowned. There was no way Deku could have known about that. It was classified information, kept secret so the fugitive Replicants wouldn’t catch on to their pursuers. Even Iida Tenya wouldn’t break protocol to share information like this with Deku.
Deku’s eyes were filled with pure, genuine curiosity. “Oh, you’re wondering how I know, right? Well, I told you I’m a fan of you guys. Or did I?”
“Wouldn’t have thought that someone who wants to save everyone would be a fan of us.”
“You’d think so, right? But life’s more complicated than that.”
“Don’t start talking like a motivational poster, nerd!” He stopped. “The Replicants that end up on Earth are fugitives. They’ve usually killed people in space colonies to escape and reach here. That’s why we have to hunt them down.”
“Then, not all Replicants are killers.”
“They could be.” His tone was supposed to be mocking, but it came out more light-hearted, like he was teasing Deku instead of interrogating him. “Why, are you a good Replicant?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said steadily.
He knew. Of course he did.
“I’m going to continue the test,” Katsuki said.
Deku nodded.
“A criminal is holding you and a little girl hostage. The girl is a Replicant. He says that if you don’t kill her, he’ll kill both of you.”
Red. “I’d find a way to save both of us.”
Katsuki opened his mouth to comment on saving a Replicant’s life, but shut it. The verbal responses weren’t as important to the test as the emotional reactions. They were only of interest to him. “Your son is heavily bullied by his classmates because he’s weaker than them.”
Deku stared back at him calmly. “I have some experience with that. Right, Kacchan?
He lowered his gaze back to the monitor, jotting down the readings on the gauges. “Answer the question.”
“I’d tell him to stand up for himself. If it didn’t work, I would transfer him to another school.”
Katsuki released a breath through his teeth. “Your best friend has done something to make you angry.”
A flush. Quickening heart rate. “Like turning against me for no reason?”
Katsuki swallowed, keeping his face impassive. “Answer the question.”
“I would forgive him.”
He stared at Deku, at the shadows his fluffy curls cast over his forehead and those energized eyes that held no deception. Trying to figure out an unknown was useless when everything was laid out for him to see, like looking into a crystal pond. Deku stared back at him, shifting under the intense gaze, but didn’t look away.
The test ran for much longer than these tests usually did. Instead of twenty to thirty questions, it took over a hundred to obtain enough evidence to support the hypothesis Katsuki had assumed from the start. Still, he went on, needing to clear this up beyond a doubt. He wanted to hear more responses.
No doubt. No hesitation.
“You come across a little girl. She has bandages on her arms and legs because her father is abusing her. He’s a successful businessman and threatens you. You can see her bleeding through her bandages. You do nothing.”
The gauges swung towards the red instantly. “I wouldn’t do nothing. I would save her.”
“But you don’t.”
“I would,” he said, panic leeching into his voice. The needle was inching further into the red, shivering erratically. “I wouldn’t leave a little girl.”
“You left the tortoise,” Katsuki commented. He wasn’t watching the readings anymore, staring at Deku’s face, his innocent eyes wide and his face a unique shade of red. It was familiar, all of it, like a long-forgotten dream that was now cast into illumination. “Why did you leave the little girl?”
“I didn’t. I would save the girl.”
That was enough. Katsuki glanced back at the monitor. “One more question. You meet an old friend after a long time. There’s something you didn’t tell them the last time you saw them.”
“I’m not sure if I’d tell him now,” Deku replied. Another dilation of the pupils. His cheeks were covered in a light blush, his eyes still bright, like compressed stars. “He might not want to know.”
“And if he does?”
Every reaction his body displayed was laid out on a monitor for Katsuki to scrutinize. “Then maybe he should be the one to ask.”
Katsuki watched the needles on the gauges fluctuate, like the ticking hands of a clock.
A red light. The lens.
Katsuki switched the beam of light pointing into Deku’s eye off, and powered down the machine. He grabbed the sheet with his notes on it, then shoved it into his pocket.
“So, what are my results?” Deku asked.
Katsuki paused. “Come with me. I could use you while hunting down the rest of the Replicants.”
“You want my help?”
“I didn’t say I need your help! It would be a favor for you, since you’re such a Blade Runner fanboy. Maybe you could eventually apply for that cop job again.”
Deku didn’t break eye contact. It didn’t hold any intensity, no intimidation, nothing except genuineness, but it was impossible to look away from all the same. “What are my test results?”
“Will you come with me or not, nerd?”
“If you’ll stop calling me a nerd.”
“I’m not gonna stop.”
Deku sighed. “Well, alright.”
It was still raining outside, a constant acid rain that wouldn’t stop, spawned by countless years of pollution. This time, Katsuki walked out of the building with Deku by his side. Regardless of the results, there was something different about him. This city hadn’t broken him down and welded him together into a rusty, broken creation yet. Katsuki wouldn’t let it.
Neon green flashed from the shop windows as Katsuki led him down the street, trekking the familiar route to his apartment. That would be the best place to decide their next step.
“There was one question I didn’t ask,” Katsuki said abruptly. “What’s your favorite color?”
Deku pulled the cap of his hoodie over his head. “On-record or off-record?”
“Just answer!”
“Mm. Red. Kind of like…” he trailed off, then pointed straight at Katsuki’s eyes. “This shade.”
Oh.
The machine appeared in the back of Katsuki’s mind. Dilated pupils. Blush. Rapid heart rate. Deku was just walking along, glancing up with closed eyes to feel the rain on his face, spreading his arms to feel the serene air, while Katsuki could read him like a long-memorized book.
Pages he memorized long ago. Sharing dinner at a table, pushing away slices of capsicum. A sandpit. Bruised knees and made-up songs. A river.
“And you?” Deku asked, oblivious. “Kacchan?”
Katsuki blinked. It felt as if the rain had stopped. He barely felt it anymore. “I know you.”
“Well, of course. I thought we both remembered those days. I just asked for your name because I didn’t know if you wanted them to know.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You just realized?”
He took a deep breath. “No. I think I always knew.”
“That’s good.” Deku smiled, scratching the back of his head. It jostled the messy locks around, light and soft. “I’m glad.”
Katsuki had been right about it. There had only ever been one person like Midoriya Izuku in the world. Katsuki wouldn’t let it cloud his judgment.
“Kacchan?” Deku said. “Have you ever gotten a judgment wrong on that test?”
“No.”
“Impressive.” His face looked resigned. “So, you’re probably right about me, but you won’t tell me my results.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “What do you think you are?”
Deku hesitated, then jogged ahead to jump in a large puddle, sending water splashing up his boots and wetting the legs of his pants. It made him laugh, and for the first time in a long time, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. Deku’s eyes were sparkling, his cheeks flushing even more. Joining him, Katsuki jumped in the puddle as well, kicking up a splash of water towards Deku, who just laughed even harder. It was a sound that could stop all the storms in the world.
Bakugou Katsuki was a Blade Runner. That would come above all, even a safe haven from the rain.
“Let’s get some ramen,” Katsuki said finally. “Stupid Pikachu made me abandon mine to test you. You in?”
Deku beamed. “Yeah, I’m in.”
Around them, the rain coursed on.