Chapter Text
It started like a regular day, sometime in June.
It was the beginning of summer in Japan, the sort of beginning that still had the roads smelling damp from evening rain and the tops of cars glittering brightly beneath the rising sun. There’d been continuous showers that April and May, but it made the blossoming of spring into summer all the more vibrant with how it fertilized the soil.
That Monday, Katsuki awoke at six o’clock as he usually did and monotonously went about his day; tugging the curtains open to let the beginnings of honeyed rays spill across the floorboards of his apartment as he watched the sun slowly erase the grayness of the sky while making his coffee. He put a concerning amount of sugar, using a lopping glob of honey instead of granulated sugar to try and convince himself it wasn’t as unhealthy. Not like he needed to mind much on health considering he was fitted like an hourglass, trim and cut of hard marble like that of his countertops, muscular and lean. The man's diet consisted of meats and salads, balanced proteins and grains all stacked in a preordained structure throughout the week, and all the sort of things you’d consider someone who was very conscious of what they put in their body. His only flaw: his sweet tooth.
Around six thirty he’d begin getting dressed, leaving the apartment complex by seven with his briefcase in hand to get to the office by eight from the subway; it all went like clockwork, a well oiled machine. He remembered thinking it smelled sweet outside, the budding flowers casting an aroma among streets that smelled of nothing more but salty street food and concrete. It was the sort of day where productivity thrived, the brightness of it making one feel as though they could accomplish anything.
Unfortunately, such a feeling was thrown out the window of Katsuki’s office when he placed his bag down upon his desk, where there was already a beige manila folder stamped red with a confidential warning a-top it and his boss sitting casually in his chair.
“Mr. Aizawa” He did good in keeping the surprise out of his voice, looking at him expectantly as he added as an afterthought. “Good morning.”
Aizawa smiled in a way that he knew it killed the blond to make formality. When Katsuki had come to his agency, fresh and brimming with a sense of unadulterated justice (with an ego to match), he’d been brazen and no more sophisticated in his speech than a frat boy. No offense, of course, the man was brilliant; he just needed to be shaped and Aizawa was proud of the progression he’d made since then. Despite seeing how it made Katsuki die a little inside to be so polite .
“Good morning, Bakugou.” He cast no answer or glance to the ominous yet simultaneously inconspicuous looking folder on his lavish desk. Adjusting the few pens Katsuki knew his boss had upheaved, he chuckled. “You do know you no longer have to make such formalities with me. I taught you, after all. Plus, it gets boring.”
Katsuki snorted, propping his hip upon the corner of the table, undoing the middle button of his dark red blazer so it didn’t wrinkle up. “I’m sure it does, old man, got half the fucking secretaries eyeing you and a whole shit tonna interns scared out of their pre-pubecent minds. Sounds hella boring.”
Fondly, Aizawa grinned at how his tone and mannerisms flipped like a switch, tiredly rubbing his eyes. His long black hair was tied back into a low, respectable ponytail, gelled down to keep from the shorter strands hanging in his eyes. Fifty years old and the man still hated waking up early with the burning passion of the same sun shining through the shuttered blinds half-covering the window against the east facing wall behind them. “You were once one of them.”
“You never scared me, as much as you may resemble a zombie but that’s-”
“Besides the point.” Sitting up and adjusting his sleeves, he motioned Katsuki to take the folder. “I know you had an assignment with the Jeffersons but, to be quite frank, this is the third time they’ve come to you because they fell down in a different Mcdonalds and you’ll be wasting your time. Free cash or not.” Katsuki opened his mouth to protest that, regardless of whatever issues his clients may possess, he didn’t do it for money, but the hand that Shota raised made him close it just as fast. “We need you somewhere else, so I decided to move you.”
Sighing, Katsuki scowled. The defiant furrow in his brows showed a prideful annoyance at being switched without prior knowledge. Aizawa may have been his boss but he never drafted or displaced him, Katsuki got to choose what he did and deserved to with his success rate, at most Aizawa merely suggested cases. Never ordered them. “Move me where?”
“Well you have eyes, boy, read.” He flippantly waved a pale hand towards the folder he’d picked up.
And read he did, brows furrowing upon every passing of his eyes over the page, growing further confused at what was being asked of him. “But, Aizawa, I’m not a-”
“Criminal defense lawyer, I know, but you specialized in it briefly. Your success was pretty high, considering the guy they let off was convicted back in the states.”
Katsuki cringed. He’d thought he was defending an innocent man, finding out the person he’d defended was truly the killer wasn’t exactly pleasant or something to be prideful of. After that, and after the media died down, he’d never taken to criminal defense again, dabbling here and there in general practice before sticking firm with civil litigation. He could help the suburban sprawl and businesses, blue and white collar sort of jobs, instead of trying to be Sherlock Holmes in the courtroom amongst convicted murderers like he’d used to.
“I can’t accept it. That’d be unethical and not in the best interest of the client nor the appearance of our company. You know this.” He set the folder back down, glancing over what the supposed assailant was convicted of. Eyes darting over the sheet he rubbed a hand at the back of his head slowly. “Jesus, Aizawa, he’s part of the Todoroki family and only got charged with disturbing the peace and carrying a concealed weapon. This is chump change, can’t they just bail him out and call it a day with any shitty ass lawyer? They’re well known names, I don’t think it’d be that fucking hard.”
“Read further.” Aizawa spun in his chair, as if they were friends speaking of what they’d do for lunch, practically kicking his feet at changing Katsuki’s line of work. “And it is not just his family wishing to provide him council. Shoto Todoroki has been estranged from the Todoroki industry for quite some time and it’d be bad news to find out that one of the heirs and frequent tabloid playboys is a potential-”
“Murderer? That’s bullshit.” Katsuki let go of the case file, letting it slap down onto the surface of his desk with little respect to the contents. Adjusting his sleeves he pushed it towards his boss once more. “I’m not doing this, Aizawa. Have that snake Monoma do it.”
“Tell that to your client, not me.” The old man grinned, shaking his head. “Bakugou, they laid down a hefty sum and requested you. At least meet with them. Your reputation precedes you, he sat there in front of me, this really heavy set guy, and combed through our employees for far longer than most would so I can confidently inform you that Monoma was not even one of his top three. He knows what he wants, he’ll tell it to you straight. So try.”
Despite himself, Katsuki agreed to a meeting. Maybe it was the fact that it boosted his ego that he was the one picked out of the probably dozen lawyers Aizawa harbored, or the curiosity as to why.
“How much are we talking here?” He questioned absently after as he picked up the folder tentatively, taking his place in the seat Shota had just gotten out of.
Smiling wryly, he turned to meet his eyes. “Enough to fund you through another year of law school. He didn’t accept any of the preordained packages. He was very adamant in sweetening the deal.”
Chuckling, the blond glanced up. “And you totally didn’t tell him otherwise. Let the rich prick just toss it in your lap didn’t you?”
Aizawa merely shrugged before he left, stifling a laugh of his own as the door shut with a quiet thud. If he saw him cackling to himself as he walked off down the hall past the floor length mirror in his office, well that was his business.
Resigning himself to his current project, at least for the time being, he picked up the phone to cancel his meeting with the Jeffersons, flipping once more through the plethora of papers out of curiosity. Though he knew he’d deny the request from the potential client he still wanted to know what sort of case could have been built that made them so- for lack of a better word- nervous that they dropped a load of cash to save their boy's ass.
Todoroki, Shoto.
Accused of: Disturbing the peace, wielding a concealed firearm, murder in the first degree.
The last of the two still confused Katsuki, had a Todoroki been connected to a murder with plausible evidence then it’d be all over the news. Enji Todoroki was in the oil industry, the sort of heir to a fortune that was passed down through generations; his business was as lucrative as his reputation was loathed. Even if it were a connection to one of his sons, Katsuki would like to think the vultures in the media would have found ways to bring it back upon him. Endeavour enterprise may have been useful to the country, but the heir was nothing more than a tone-deaf, out of touch old man who thought he was the sole provider and protector for them all with his donations and sales.
In reality, all the businesses that Enji bought out raised the prices for everyone else. Yet, of course, it remained an unspoken fact. As was the unspoken joke that was Endeavour. Loved by the rich, spat on by the poor.
In the Shizuoka Prefecture on May 13th the accused was found disturbing the peace in a local bar (Rave Raven). Gunshots were heard by witnesses outside who also said that a fight had broken out earlier that evening and police were called. When arriving the accused was holding a Beretta 92 adjacent to a man holding a Gen 4 Glock 19, both unregistered firearms. Having been detained at 9:15 the accused stated the firearm was not theirs but that whom he’d had been engaged in an argument with; A Itejiro Toteki who he called by the name “Boomerang”.
Upon further questioning the accused failed to properly answer why the argument took place, claiming that he didn’t know about the firearms and was only working in self defense. Witnesses, however, state that both drew their weapon before engaging into a heated exchange. Bruises were found on both of the detainees however both give different stories as to why. A lawyer was requested when the accused unregistered firearm was run through the system, tying them to an unsolved murder close in the area.
Todoroki Shoto is being detained in the Mustafu prison until further notice and has fallen into a vow of silence until given legal representation. Bail has been posted and a case has been made yet without an alibi or proper questioning a stalemate has been put in place.
Upon further and further reading, with the little information, there wasn’t much of a case to begin with; dare he say that the detectives were making educated guesses to tie the accused to something as drastic as a felony like murder. If anything there were countless holes and inconsistencies that any dime-a-dozen lawyer could defend him and get him out by next week regardless of the unregistered gun charge.
So why the hell was he being brought into this?