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Izuku’s eyes tracked the world’s greatest detective as he paced across the floor of their home. Kacchan often needed to move while he was thinking, and the harder he was thinking the bigger his movements. A simple puzzle might have him tapping his fingers on the table. A more complex problem often meant rubbing his face or raking his fingers through his hair, perhaps gesturing with whatever object he happened to be holding at the time.
Pacing like this, though, with his face pinched in concentration and brow furrowed deeply, meant that Kacchan was struggling to make sense of something, and he’d been at it all day.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually stumped by this case?” Izuku asked.
“Of course not, don’t be stupid,” Kacchan snapped.
Frowning, Izuku’s fingers began to idly stroke over his chin and mouth as he watched Kacchan pace. It had been years since Kacchan’s anger and relentless drive for perfection had taken him so far down a self-destructive path that Izuku had needed to worry about his safety; but that didn’t prevent the nightmarish images from haunting him. Memories of a man who had pushed his body and mind too far past their limits…
But those days were behind them now.
It had taken the pair of them time to find their balance; but now, they kept each other in check. Kacchan had given Izuku a new sense of purpose when he’d needed it most. Izuku had given Kacchan an audience and a challenger, someone to be awed by his brilliance and to push him to be a better version of himself.
The romantic in Izuku liked to think that fate had pulled them together; two men who complemented each other so perfectly, who both happened to be the sort whose eye was drawn to other men. Kacchan always scoffed at the notion. But no matter if it was fate or chance; the fact was that after they had confessed their mutual love for each other and found alternative outlets for their baser drives, the number of medical emergencies in 221B Baker Street had dropped off dramatically.
Of course, that didn’t stop Izuku from worrying about the brilliant madman he loved, especially when he got agitated like this. Kacchan was effortlessly graceful as he moved across the flat, but there was a tension in him that told Izuku that another outburst was coming—
“Make yourself useful, Deku, and read back the notes from the case file and the interview with the family.”
Oh, something was really bothering Kacchan. Izuku could feel his partner’s growing agitation beginning to be mirrored in himself; so grabbing his notebook from the tea table, he began to read aloud.
“On the morning of Wednesday, the fifth of August, eighteen hundred and ninety-nine, a young woman by the name of Toga Himiko was reported missing by her parents. In addition to alerting the police, they also immediately sent for the great Bakugou Katsuki to come and look into the case.
“The Toga family is quite wealthy, and Himiko—their only daughter—is scheduled to marry the merchant Shigaraki Zen this weekend, so they are understandably frantic to find her. We arrived at the household a little after noon to find the scene far busier than you wanted it to be, but your unmatched skill and expertise allowed you to make a thorough investigation of the house and grounds.
“You found no signs of a struggle, and nothing of value was missing—”
“Wrong! Useless!” Kacchan snapped, cutting Izuku off. “If you can’t even report the simple facts of the case back accurately, what value is there to your so-called ‘chronicling’ of my work?”
“Shall I stop then?” Izuku shot back. He was used to Kacchan’s temper, but even Izuku had his limits to what he would tolerate.
“No! Just… gah, tell it correctly!”
Izuku took a slow, calming breath. When Kacchan got worked up like this, he needed help. He needed Izuku. And if what he needed from Izuku was to tell the story in all its detail, then that’s what Izuku would give him.
*
“How am I supposed to do a proper investigation if the police have been tromping through the scene!?” Kacchan snarled, looking around Toga Himiko’s bedroom. “If they’ve disturbed anything—”
“I assure you, Bakugou-san, they’ve touched nothing. I supervised them myself.” Toga Yusei puffed up his chest and crossed his arms, not unlike a cobra spreading its hood to appear more intimidating.
Kacchan was not impressed.
“Really?” he sneered. “Can you outline for me their every footstep in the carpeting? Every place where they leaned in close and their breath disturbed the dust, or where their jacket brushed the drapes and moved them from their original position?”
A stormy expression clouded Toga’s face. “There’s nothing to see in here anyway,” he blustered. “Even I can tell that there’s no sign of a struggle, and my wife checked to see that nothing is missing, all the valuables are still here. It was those degenerates my daughter calls 'friends,’ I’m certain of it! They lured her away! This is a waste of time, the police need to round them up and—”
“Toga-san,” Izuku stepped smoothly between Kacchan and the aggravated father, a soothing smile on his face. “It was your own wise decision to bring in the greatest detective in the world to help, but it’s best to give him space while he’s working, as distractions only slow him down. Why don’t you step outside and attend to your wife?”
The man glowered down at Izuku, while Izuku did his best to project a placid, understanding countenance. The ticking of the clock on the wall counted out approximately five seconds before Izuku could feel his irritation seeping in around the edges, turning his smile a little sharper.
It took far longer than he liked for Toga to huff and spin on his heel, leaving Izuku and Kacchan to search his daughter’s room in peace.
“So,” Izuku said, shutting the door and refocusing on what was actually important, “Kacchan, what do you see?”
“I see incompetent, self-important fools,” Kacchan said, glaring through the closed door after Toga before clicking his tongue in irritation and beginning his scan of the room in earnest.
Gathering the clues, the observations, was invariably Izuku’s favorite part of any investigation. It was also profoundly challenging for him. He had honed his own skills considerably over the course of his years alongside Kacchan, and he was possessed of an undeniable competitive streak that compelled him to try and spot the clues before Kacchan did. Izuku approached every scene with keen interest and the intent to demonstrate his observational and critical thinking skills.
The difficulty was, his eye was always inexorably drawn to observe Kacchan more than the scene. It was still an exercise in observation and putting clues together, but instead of deducing the details of the case, Izuku was unlocking the mysteries of the great detective himself. Each movement, sound, and facial expression became another data point in his ever-expanding analysis and understanding of the most brilliant man to ever grace the Earth.
Still, Izuku wasn’t oblivious to the other clues in his environment.
“I understand why Toga-san said there was no sign of a struggle,” he said, looking around the orderly bedroom as he pulled out his notebook, “but this room seems almost too neat. If the young woman was taken or left the house in the middle of the night, as the report indicates, shouldn’t there be some sign of habitation left? A hairbrush left out on her vanity, or a forgotten glass of water on the bedside table? Would she take the time to carefully make her bed and straighten her chair at the desk before running off to meet up with these so-called ‘degenerates?’”
“Obviously her mother came through and straightened up whatever disarray there was,” Kacchan said, not bothering to look up from where he was peering at the surface of the vanity.
“Why would she tamper with the scene and disturb evidence? Surely she would know that would only slow down the investigation!”
“Because they’re obsessed with appearances. A stupid fixation, but common enough amongst their peers. Also because they seem quite certain that they know what happened to the girl, so they view gathering evidence as a waste of time. They called the police to find and round up the suspects that they have already designated, not to investigate.”
Izuku’s pencil paused briefly on its feverish journey across the page as he blinked at Kacchan in confusion. “Why call us then?”
Kacchan looked up, a wicked glint in his eye as he gave Izuku a sharp smirk. “As I said: appearances. I’m the best, and now they can say they hired the best. A pity that they didn’t realize that I’d actually be here to work rather than act as window-dressing for them. Look here, do you see?” Kacchan pointed to the tabletop of the vanity, and Izuku leaned in close to see what Kacchan had already spotted.
“Patches in the dust.”
“Indeed.” Kacchan’s hand landed on Izuku’s shoulder, guiding him back until he was standing upright again. “As her parents report, the valuables in her jewelry box seem to all be present and accounted for, her hair brush and cosmetic powders are all in their usual places; but there are a few voids in the dust. Someone has removed some items that I would wager are of value, though perhaps not in a monetary sense.”
“Personal value? Sentimental objects?”
“Precisely. What remains to be determined is whether they were removed by our missing young woman because she has left voluntarily and wanted to keep them, or by her parents in an attempt to cover up something they feel would reflect poorly on their family. And here!” Kacchan said, crossing the room to crouch down over by the door, “Blood drops.”
Still frantically trying to scribble down all his notes, Izuku had barely glanced over before he blurted, “She was attacked in her room and then fled?”
“Hardly,” Kacchan scoffed. “If you were paying attention, you would understand. The only reason that the family hasn’t already cleaned these spots up is because they are small enough that they haven’t noticed them. But the rest of the carpet shows no sign of being freshly cleaned either, so it’s improbable that the young woman was the victim of a bloody assault in this room. And, if you look at the drops, they indicate that she was entering the room, not leaving it. Someone in the house assaulted her, and she fled to her room to escape them.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps she simply got a nosebleed,” Izuku said, “Or nicked herself with a knife preparing dinner.”
“Yes, and instead of heading to the washroom, she came to her carpeted bedroom then stood by the door long enough for half a dozen drops to fall before moving in further to the room? Unlikely. She did not have a life-threatening injury, but one severe enough to bleed heavily while also being easily bandaged to staunch the flow. See, the drops stop quite abruptly.”
Izuku’s pen flew across the page. “Do you think that someone in the family or on the staff assaulted her, or do you think it was an intruder?”
Whatever Kacchan was about to say was cut off by a loud bang and the sound of shouting voices coming from the entryway. Pushing past Kacchan to tear open the door, Izuku led the way as they raced down the hall to see what was happening.
Bursting into the front hall, Izuku saw a young woman with brown hair standing dangerously close to Toga Kaho, while her husband stood stoically off to the side. The newcomer had a wild expression on her face, fists clenched tightly at her sides as she stared down the mother of the missing young woman. “What happened, what did you do to her!?”
“We did nothing to her, you foolish girl,” Toga sneered. “And you best remember that the daughter of a butcher is only allowed in here by our good graces, Uraraka Ochako. Whatever childhood bond that you and Himiko share does not grant you the liberty to come into our home and make spurious and slanderous accusations!”
“You did nothing!?” Uraraka snarled. “You’re forcing her into a marriage that she—”
“That she what? That she doesn’t want? What she wants is irrelevant, it is her responsibility, and if you know where she’s hiding—”
“Hiding?” Uraraka choked out a wet laugh that sounded more like a sob. “You probably have her locked up somewhere! How far will you go if you can’t bend her to your will? How much more will it take before she breaks and does the unimaginable to escape the life you’re trying to trap her in!” There was a growing tension in Uraraka’s body, a spring wound too tight, ready to snap.
“Excuse me, what is going on here?” Izuku said, striding forward to push himself between the two women, forcing each of them back a step.
“Who are you?” Uraraka demanded, turning her glare on him.
“My name is Midoriya Izuku, and this is the great Bakugou Katsuki,” Izuku said, gesturing to Kacchan with a flourish.
Uraraka’s expression shifted as she turned to look at Kacchan, the harshest edge of her anger giving way to something hopeful. “The detective? Are you here to find out what’s happened to Himiko-chan?”
“Obviously,” Kacchan said, sizing the young woman up. “Why do you seem to think that her parents might have had something to do with her disappearance?”
Just like that, the anger was back as Uraraka turned to glare at the Togas. “Because Himiko made it clear that she would rather die than marry that horrible old man!”
Toga Kaho turned towards Kacchan with an air of longsuffering. “You need to understand, Bakugou-san; Himiko is… not right. She never was. It was a miracle we found an appropriate and willing suitor for her, and all she needed to do was this one simple thing! Fulfill her final duty to us and marry Shigaraki Zen! But you see the path her choices led her down? She was always cavorting with… undesirables. It’s no wonder she got caught up in bad company; and now, what has become of her?”
In a flash, the rage that radiated off of Uraraka became a palpable thing. Izuku shifted his stance as he stood between her and the source of her fury, ready to reach out and grab hold of the young woman if need be, to prevent her from an act that might land her in police custody.
“How dare you! Himiko is kind and loving! If anything, she loves too much, and forgives too easily,” Uraraka added as she glared daggers at Toga Kaho. “She is thoughtful and generous, the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. And you would condemn her to a life of misery because you don’t want her around! You want her married off to a merchant trader who will make her move half a world away because you think she laughs too loud and her smile is unsettling and she dances too wildly. You think she would bring shame upon this family when she’s the only decent one amongst the lot of you!”
“That’s enough! Get out!” Toga Yusei roared, striding towards Uraraka, open hand raised to strike. Izuku snapped into action, ready to meet the man halfway—
But Uraraka was a step ahead of him. Fire burned in her eyes as she moved to meet force with force, fist drawing up and back.
In a flash, Izuku changed tactics, hooking his arm under Uraraka’s, holding the young woman back while pivoting to put his body between her and Toga. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kacchan take Uraraka’s other arm, and together the pair of them walked her back towards the front door.
“What are you doing, let me go!” Uraraka shouted, twisting in their grip.
“Thank you for your time, Toga-san,” Izuku called over his shoulder, “We’ll be in touch with our conclusions!”
“You need to finish your investigation! We’ve paid you for your services, we expect results!” Toga snarled.
Kacchan opened the door with his free hand and Izuku led the way out, still hauling a furious Uraraka. “I’ve gathered all the information I require,” Kacchan said. “I’m quite certain I’ll be able to deduce what has happened to your daughter.” There was something odd in his voice, though Izuku couldn’t quite puzzle out what it was.
Working as a team, Izuku and Kacchan smoothly moved Uraraka away from the entry and halfway across the lawn, where she finally shook them off with a sudden display of strength that surprised Izuku.
“Enough! I can walk by myself,” she huffed, straightening her clothes. Narrowing her eyes, she looked back and forth between the two of them. “Are you really going to figure out what’s happened to Himiko?”
“Unquestionably,” Kacchan said.
Not willing to pass up an opportunity for more information that may shed light on the case, Izuku scrambled to take his notebook back out. “It sounds like you know her very well; your insight may be invaluable in helping us crack the case as quickly as possible. Why don’t we go talk—”
“No!” Uraraka said, her face growing pale as she backed away. “I don’t want you feeding me false hopes. Himiko is my dearest friend, and I fear that one way or the other, I’ll never see her again. Go solve your puzzle, detective; all I care about is justice for Himiko.”
Casting a last long look at the manor house, Uraraka turned and ran off, leaving Izuku and Kacchan standing in the middle of the lawn.
*
“And then we took the train home, ate dinner, retired to bed, and you were sullen and silent the whole time.” Izuku said, finishing his recounting of events. “And ever since you awoke this morning, you’ve been in a foul temper. I don’t understand, Kacchan. I have seen you solve far more complex mysteries based on far less information. What is it about this case that has you so confounded?”
“I’m not confounded,” Kacchan snapped. “As you say, this case is nothing for me to solve, that’s hardly the matter I’m trying to—”
A sharp knock interrupted them. Kacchan glowered at Izuku until, with a sigh, Izuku rose from his chair and crossed the room, opening the door to reveal the gaunt form of their landlord.
“Ah, sorry to disturb you, gentlemen,” Yagi said with a sheepish smile, “but there’s a young woman here to see you about a case. She gave her name as Uraraka Ochako.”
Izuku turned to look at Kacchan, hoping this might improve his mood, but he was still frowning deeply, arms crossed over his chest with his finger tapping out a staccato beat on his arm. “Thank you, Yagi,” Izuku sighed, “please send her up.”
Leaving the door ajar, Izuku went to the kitchen to see about putting tea on; but before he had done more than fill the kettle with water, there came a gentle rap at the entryway.
“Bakugou-san? Midoriya-san?” The door edged open and Uraraka peered in carefully at them.
“Uraraka-san! Please, come in!” Izuku said, hurrying over to usher her into the flat. “I didn’t hear you on the stairs, normally that creaky floorboard gives me a warning to have the door open properly! Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you,” she said, looking around the flat curiously as Izuku gently guided her by the elbow to the sofa. “I won’t take up too much of your time; but I felt awful about the way I ran off yesterday. I apologize for my rudeness, and I hope you can forgive me. I’m just… I’m just so terribly worried.”
Angling his chair to face Uraraka a little more directly, Izuku picked his notebook back up. “You said that you’re afraid you’ll never see your friend Toga again?”
Uraraka nodded. “I know it sounds like hyperbole to say that Himiko-chan’s parents have spent years trying to kill her; but you need to understand that there is more than one way to die. I have no doubt that Toga Himiko will never be seen alive again, and that in one form or another, her parents are the ones responsible.”
“Quite the accusation,” Kacchan said, walking a slow arc around the room, his eyes never leaving Uraraka.
“What do you mean when you say ‘there’s more than one way to die’?” Izuku asked. His medical training meant that, of course, he was familiar with a myriad of weaknesses in the human body. His military training meant that he was familiar with countless ways that a person can be killed. But Uraraka seemed to be implying something else.
Uraraka’s eyes drifted towards the window and the last of the dimming twilight outside. “Himiko loves birds.” A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Well, she loves lots of things, and lots of people; but she’s always loved birds so very much. The way they can flitter away and soar through the air. Able to go anywhere they want, whenever they want. They represent freedom to her.” Looking down at her hands clasped in her lap, Uraraka took a slow breath. “All she wanted was the freedom to live her life as herself, but her parents would never allow it. It was killing her.
“The fact is, Himiko-chan could never be the daughter her parents wanted. No matter how hard she tried, she was always a disappointment. I fear that the weight of their expectations was finally too much for her, and that she—” Uraraka cut off with a sniff.
Kacchan scoffed, and Izuku shot him a harsh glare. The two stared each other down for a heartbeat, Kacchan’s face twisting up in irritation; but when he finally spoke, his tone held no disdain or mockery. “Do you believe she took her own life?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I know that she wanted so badly to please her parents, in the hopes that maybe they would love her back; but she could never live the life they demanded of her. I know that she was getting desperate enough to do something drastic. But… I also know that her parents have a temper, especially her father. If she tried to stand her ground against them about the marriage… well, it wouldn’t be the first time they beat her. I know that they would never take her ‘no’ for an answer, and they would do whatever they thought would make her go through with it.”
Uraraka grew quiet for a moment, staring into the middle distance. In a seemingly unconscious movement, her hand lifted from her lap and her fingers gently traced the curve of her own cheek, pausing to rest softly against her lips.
“Himiko… she worried that her parents would take their anger out on her friends. She was right, too; you can see the way they’re trying to get the police to harass and arrest them. Her friends wouldn’t have kidnapped Himiko, though. Unlike her parents, they respected her enough to let her make her own decisions, even if they didn’t like it.”
Izuku’s brow furrowed in confusion. “‘They?’ Are you not one of her friends?”
“Of course!” Uraraka said, a pink flush spreading out from her cheeks to color the rest of her face. “I was… I think I was Himiko-chan’s first real friend. I would do anything for her… to protect her… but I’d never take it upon myself to decide her fate for her. Whatever happened to her, it was either her own choice, or by her parent’s hand.” A tear quivered as it clung to her eyelashes. She moved to wipe it, smudging her makeup.
With a sharp breath, she stood abruptly. “I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed you, gentlemen,” she said, bowing her head. “I have imposed on your hospitality long enough. I fear that my emotions have gotten the better of me, and I would prefer to bear my pain in privacy. I shall not trouble you again.”
Izuku hopped to his feet to get the door for her, but she already had her hand on the knob. “I’ll see you out, Uraraka-san,” he said, but she shook her head, opening the door and stepping just outside the threshold.
“No, thank you,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at them. “All I ask is that you seek justice for Himiko-chan.”
With that, she quickly slipped away, pulling the door closed behind her. By the time Izuku crossed the room and opened the door to peer after her, she was already down the stairs and out of sight. The heavy thud of the front door slamming shut was a clue even Izuku couldn’t mistake; Uraraka had left 221 Baker Street, and even if he rushed to follow her, she’d be long gone into the night by the time he even got to the street.
“That was odd,” he muttered, frowning slightly. “I’d swear… It must have been the tears smudging her makeup, but she looked different just now than she did yesterday.” Sighing, Izuku turned, expecting Kacchan’s mood to be even worse now that his thinking had been interrupted, especially since Uraraka had run off before he’d had the opportunity to ask her more questions—
Kacchan was smiling.
Well, not smiling, but smirking. A very particular smirk.
“You’ve solved it?” Izuku knew the answer, he just liked to pitch his voice inquisitively because it always encouraged Kacchan to talk and explain.
“Of course I solved it! As I was trying to say before our guest arrived, solving it was nothing to me. I was simply debating how best to handle the situation.”
Izuku hurried over to his chair and picked up his notebook and pen. He stretched his achy fingers, ready to chronicle the brilliant path Kacchan’s mind had taken.
Due to his injuries in the war, Izuku’s right hand was a scarred and twisted thing. He used to be able to wield a scalpel with precision, even under the most stressful of circumstances; but the explosion had left it nearly useless. The other doctors had told him that with mechanotherapy and massage, he might regain some movement; but it had felt pointless. Every movement was agony, and he didn’t have the strength or dexterity to pick up and hold a fork, much less a scalpel.
He’d been hopeless.
Then he met Kacchan.
He’d seen how brilliant the man was, how clever, how amazing… but he’d also seen how off-putting so many people found his behavior, and how underappreciated Kacchan was as a result. It felt fundamentally wrong for people to not understand Kacchan, so Izuku became determined to make them see.
He still couldn’t hold a scalpel well enough to do proper surgery; but through sheer stubborn determination, Izuku had strengthened his mangled hand to the point where he could wield a pen. Years later, it was still a little stiff, and the pain nagged at him whenever he wrote for more than a few minutes; but the pain was worth it to chronicle for the world how amazing Kacchan was.
“What happened, then?” Izuku asked as he began to scribble his notes. “Do you think her parents murdered her, or drove her to suicide?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Kacchan said with a smug grin. “Though no body will ever be recovered.”
“Did her parents cover up her death?”
“Hardly,” Kacchan scoffed. “They don’t believe she’s dead at all. Their insistence that we find her and return her in time for her wedding is no ruse. In point of fact, it was imperative to the architects behind this plan that the Toga family remain convinced that their daughter is alive.”
Izuku’s head snapped up. “A plan?”
“Tch, please Izuku, when will you open your eyes and see the obvious in front of your face? When I examined the scene, there was trace evidence of injury—”
“The blood,” Izuku mumbled.
“Nothing that the Togas were likely to notice themselves, and certainly not enough to have anyone arrested for murder. Instead, combined with the testimony of that woman who was here—
“Uraraka,” Izuku said.
“—there is only just enough evidence to cast doubt on the family.”
“Are you suggesting that the blood evidence was planted? By whom? And why go through the trouble of staging a scene, to only hint at foul play?”
“Because despite the pain she has endured, Toga Himiko might still love her family enough to not want them arrested and jailed.” Kacchan paused, his eyes glinting dangerously. “And because arrest isn’t needed to ruin their lives. Not only will the whole situation likely put them on the bad side of Shigaraki Zen, once the rumors about them begin to spread—even with no proof—it will sully their precious reputation. It will corrode the polished appearance they try to present.”
“The polished appearance which they valued so highly that they would force their daughter into a miserable existence,” Izuku said as the picture started to come into focus.
“Indeed. Once the rumors spread far enough, they will become accepted as truth. And once everyone believes that Toga Himiko is dead, everyone will stop looking for her.”
“She engineered her own disappearance, to escape an impossible situation,” Izuku said, his eyes scanning his page of notes. “So, where is she now?”
Kacchan cocked an eyebrow at him, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Where do you think?”
“I guess she must have run far away,” Izuku muttered, as much to himself as to Kacchan. “Perhaps checking the train passenger manifests might help, but she already has more than a full day’s head start—”
“Hah! You truly are so simple sometimes. Do I actually need to spell everything out for you? She’s far closer than you would suspect.”
Izuku paused for a beat, trying to think about things as Kacchan would. Trying to understand people and the world as he did, something niggling at the back of his brain…
“When I said before,” he said slowly, feeling like the answer was almost within reach, “that Uraraka’s eyes look different today—?”
“I was wondering if you’d have enough sense to notice that,” Kacchan said, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice. “Yes, though the shape of her eyes was expertly disguised with cosmetics, they were unquestionably a different color.”
“Could it possibly be—? Are you telling me that—”
“Yesterday, we met Uraraka Ochako,” Kacchan said with a dramatic flourish. “Today, we met Toga Himiko.”
“But she looked nothing at all like the photographs we saw at the house!” There hadn’t been many images of her, only in a few family portraits—a light-haired young woman with angled eyes and a too-sharp smile, a far cry from Uraraka’s large round eyes and dark hair.
“And how many times have I disguised my own appearance such that you have walked right past me and been none the wiser?” The haughty self-satisfied tone of Kacchan’s voice earned him a raised eyebrow from Izuku.
“Never so well that I wasn’t able to catch you out within moments of speaking with you,” Izuku said with a stern glare. He was not a prideful man; but he would never concede for a moment that any amount of costume make-up, or shifting the cadence of his speech, would be enough to stop him from recognizing his Kacchan.
“Yes, ah, well,” Kacchan said, clearing his throat and drawing himself up taller as Izuku saw a telltale hint of flush creeping up out of his collar. “You are obviously quite familiar with me, but had only met the round-faced young woman once. The fact remains, a skilled person can indeed disguise themselves to be all but unrecognizable; or to be able to pass as another person completely.”
Izuku nodded, accepting the point. “So you’ve solved the mystery of Toga Himiko’s fate; but you knew she was alive and well even before our visitor showed up, didn’t you? Yet your earlier struggle with how to handle the case now seems resolved. What decision have you made?”
“Knowing that she has made her escape plan of her own free will, I will tell the family the truth; that Toga Himiko will never be seen alive again.”
“Are you saying that you couldn’t find her?” Izuku teased, grinning cheekily up at him.
“Obviously I could if I wanted to,” Kacchan huffed. “But I have no interest in doing so. Thus, she will never be found.”
“My assumption that she had already started her journey away from here was a bit premature,” Izuku mused, “but surely that must be her next step? Board a train or a ship and head towards a new life?”
“Very likely.”
Something sad stirred in Izuku’s chest as he thought about the young woman’s story. “I must say, I’m pleased to know that she will find her freedom. But though she must be quite clever, the world is a hard and lonely place. I do not envy her facing it all on her own.”
Kacchan stared blankly at him for a moment before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes I wonder how I can love so dearly someone as stupid as you.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku snapped in indignation.
“She won’t be alone, you simpleton.”
Now it was Izuku’s turn to stare blankly at Kacchan. “She won’t?”
“Dissappearing only works as a tactic if you can convince people not to look for you. If we were convinced there had been a murder, we would be compelled to try and find a killer, and the case would get more attention. If we were convinced that she had been kidnapped, then there would need to be a rescue. And if the evidence indicated that she had run away, then search efforts would be made. No, the only way to ensure that she would be able to make a new start without her past chasing her was to plant the seed of belief that she had stumbled off to her own demise in a frantic effort to escape. Leaving a note wouldn’t work if the idea was a hasty scramble to freedom; so someone else needed to plant the seeds.”
It clicked.
“Uraraka.”
Kacchan hummed an affirmative. “It’s no coincidence that Toga disguised herself as the other woman. The two are, at the very least, fast friends and co-conspirators.”
Izuku thought about the rage in Uraraka’s eyes as she confronted the Togas. Since Kacchan had to be right about the two conspiring on the plan together in the first place, it meant that in that moment, Uraraka had known that her friend was alive and well; and yet she was ready to fight the people who had caused her so much suffering.
“They’re lovers,” he said as the realization dawned on him. “I’ve been in my share of fights over the years, and defended many people over the course of those… but I’ve only ever approached a confrontation with that kind of rage when it was with someone who threatened you.”
“Indeed,” Kacchan said, his eyes glinting with something Izuku couldn’t quite describe. “Uraraka will undoubtedly be leaving town soon. ‘Too haunted by the memories,’ or some other nonsense excuse will be offered, and then she’ll be off to meet up with Toga and the pair of them will start their new life together.”
Izuku suddenly felt very protective of the two young women. “None of these… theories are going to be shared with the family or the police, right Kacchan?”
“Of course not, idiot,” Kacchan said fondly, rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who’s been taking notes, I’ve simply been explaining things to you.”
Izuku looked down at the page, full of his messy handwriting.
“As much as I wish I could tell the world about how caring you truly are,” he said, closing the book and putting it back down on the tea table, “I think that this particular story never needs to be told.”
“Good to know that you’re not always as stupid as you look,” Kacchan said, his face softening into a genuine smile. Izuku stood and stepped in close to him, slipping one arm around his waist while the other hand cupped the back of his neck.
“You are an arse, and you’re lucky I love you.” Warm breath gusted across his lips as he leaned in to seal them over Kacchan’s, kissing him slow and deep for a long moment.
“You’re the lucky one,” Kacchan said as they finally broke the kiss, his arms still wrapped securely around Izuku.
“I am also lucky,” Izuku allowed, smiling at Kacchan. A passing thought flitted through his mind, and he gave Kacchan another brief kiss. “Do you think they’ll be lucky too? That they’ll be able to carve out a refuge for happiness like we have?”
“They seem smart, resourceful, and motivated,” Kacchan said. “I’d wager that they have a good chance.”
“I’m glad,” Izuku murmured, kissing Kacchan's neck gently, feeling profoundly grateful for the life that he’d been blessed with.
“Now then,” Kacchan said, clearing his throat and leaning back to look at Izuku, “didn’t you start getting the kettle ready before? Shame to let it go to waste. Go make some tea.”
Izuku smirked. “Of course, Kacchan,” he said. “I’ll be happy to make the tea.” The mischief in his voice promised far more than a hot drink, but they’d save that for later.