Chapter Text
Deku wakes up sitting, bands around his wrists and cold metal under his legs.
Oh.
He knows what’s going on.
He’s woken in this kind of position before. Though, he always hated it when the House did it. They were the worst in interrogations. The most memorable too.
A door opens to Deku’s left.
He keeps his body lax.
The fact he was in a chair and not a cell bed meant they were aware he’d wake up soon. But going by the impatient air around whoever entered, they didn’t know he was awake now.
So Deku stayed relaxed, pushing the other person’s presence to the backburner, and instead took stock of his own position.
The back of his neck hurt. It felt like a sizable knot was growing on the back of his skull. No ringing, so no concussion, but damn it smarts. There are more surface bruises on his legs and shoulders. He counts the aches, and doesn’t count any new ones from his patrol last night, despite his sudden spur of the moment heroism. Ok, not too rough and not healed, so it hasn’t been that long since the incident. He can work with that.
His belt is gone.
A quick wiggle of his toes reveals his shoes to be a bit too loose. They took his laces.
Bastards.
He flexes the muscles of his face, and holds back a wince at the sudden zing that runs through his cheeks. Okay, his mask was still on. Not a real surprise, but enough of one to flood Deku with relief. He doubted the Musutafu police had resources to contend with House technology, but one can never be sure.
And even though the micro needles scraped across his cheekbones, there was a certain comfort knowing his mask couldn’t be removed so easily.
It made his life so much easier.
A heavy sigh interrupts his thoughts.
Oh yeah, there was someone else in the room.
Might as well “wake up” now.
Who knows, maybe this will be fun? After all, it’ll still be a few minutes until his ride gets here, so why not?
So, making sure to “jolt” awake, Deku opens his eyes and takes quick stock of his surroundings.
Steel table. Steel door. Concrete box. One way mirror window.
Ah, a classic set up.
It’s almost nostalgic.
How much time has he wasted in boxes just like this? How long has he been both interrogator and victim in these empty environments?
2 years? 3?
All put together, it wouldn’t be surprising if—
“So you’re finally awake.”
Oh. Yeah. There’s someone else already here.
After so many times waking up alone in these situations, waiting hours for any signs of life, when his mind is running on empty and his will is crumbling to dust because did they leave him here to rot and suffocate and disappear like dust.... well, he’s not used to someone already being there.
Poor interrogation techniques, for sure.
Though, looking at the officer on the other side of the table, Deku admits the person’s probably never known a hard day of their life.
Portly, rounded, soft edges even with the “glare” they’re sending Deku’s way.
They look like a disgruntled pug.
Oh, no, that’s bad, Deku can’t laugh here.
Well, he shouldn’t, but the officer trying to “intimidate” him on the other side of the table is radiating so much “non-threat” energy Deku can’t help a shaky wheeze from escaping. He can’t look at them anymore, or he’s going to start actually giggling.
So the teen turns away, finding a spot on the wall to just focus on as irritation starts filling the air.
The desk cop (seriously there’s no other position he could be unless the flab is quirk related which.... debatable) leans forward, rapping meaty knuckles on the table sharply.
“Oi, you listening boy?” rude, “You have any idea where you are?” Disneyland! “You’re in police custody for illegal possession and use of a firearm, public endangerment, and acts of vigilantism.” Really? All that? Damn. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Deku is really trying not to laugh.
Where did this guy get interrogation training? Pre-Quirk cheesy cop shows? Is that how they train their officers? Pointing at poor acting and going “that’s how you do it” until they can get the lines down? Fuck, does Deku get points for playing along? He really wants to see what would happen if he follows the usual “guilty but acting innocent” trope. Would they let him go? Blow a fuse? Shut down?
Damn, he’s really curious now.
Something in his expression must give him away though, showing the cop he was not taking this in any way serious, because Mr. Portly stands up with a fist to the table and gets into Deku’s face.
“You think you have leeway just because you’re a minor, kid? Well listen here you little punk—”
CRACK
The cop rears back with a cry of pain, hand leaving the table to clutch at his bleeding nose as he almost trips over his chair.
Now Deku’s forehead hurts, matching the pain in the back of his head, but that was so satisfying.
The feeling of cartilage crackle and snap under force is always just a bit worth whatever irritation comes with it.
The man is looking at Deku in shock, blood dripping from under his hand, as if he couldn’t even fathom someone Deku’s size and age attacking an adult.
And Deku can’t help it anymore.
He laughs, and the sound makes the cop pale even further.
Because Deku makes sure to flex and clench his throat, moving the sounds from his vocal cords like some demented beast as he doubles over his shackled hands and stomps his feet on the floor. The mask isn’t helping either, as the strands connecting each side help warble and distort his voice like he was talking through a fan.
He must seem insane.
Worth it.
The cop growls something lost under Deku’s cackling, but the door opens before he can get a proper word out. Deku quiets his laughter into giggles as he raises his face to the newcomer, and feels a bolt of electricity spearhead down his spine.
This wasn’t another beat cop.
This was someone serious.
Threat .
Deku straightens, smile gone even if no one in the room could see it, as the newcomer looks at the bloody face of the officer and sighs.
“Nibui-san,” Deku chokes on a snort, “go get your nose checked by the healer, I’ll take it from here.”
The officer growls, the sound nasally due to his broken nose, and sends one last ineffective glare at Deku before leaving. The new person just watches Deku silently for a moment, black eyes scanning for something only they know. It reminds Deku of the House Sitters, and it makes his shoulders tense.
The corner of the person’s left eye twitches, right before a blink, then they smile and bow politely.
“Hello, my name is Detective Tsukauchi. I apologize for any aggravation my partner caused during this confusion.” As they speak, the Detective walks over to sit in Nibui’s vacated seat. They put down a legal pad and pen, then fish in their coat for what looks like an old-school voice recorder.
Like the ones Jared has.
Deku... doesn’t know how to feel about that. Just that he doesn’t like it, and he wants it to be put away.
The Detective’s left eye twitches again, before a blink, and they smile politely across the table at him.
“It would be a bit easier to get everything rolling if I could get a name.”
Deku raises a brow at that, giving the Detective a once over before turning away. There was no way he was talking to this person. Not in a million years.
Jared would skin him alive.
The Detective hums, writing something down on his pad before leaning back and seeming to get comfortable in his chair.
A waiting game.
Deku sucks at waiting games.
As is proven when, not 5 minutes later, he breaks.
“You ain’t gettin’ anything from me, Detective-san.”
Their lip twitches slightly, a knowing smile showing they won, before sighing and waving a lazy hand between them.
“You don’t have to be so formal, Tsukauchi works fine.” Like hell he’s going to call them that. “And I must say,” they rest their elbows on the table between them, dark eyes intense and searching as Deku tenses up, “your case is quite unique.”
Shit shit shit shit shit
Deku needed out yesterday.
But he won’t get that. Not until whoever Jared called gets here.
If Jared even got his signal.
Until then, he’s on his own.
Which, for someone like Deku, is bad.
Case and point.
“Oh?” Deku leans forward, swallowing back his internal panic and instead trilling at the concept of being a challenge, “Why’s that, Detective-san?”
They quirk a brow at that, a flash of amusement crossing their face, before they lean back again with a hum, “It’s hardly fair to give you information if you give me nothing in return.”
Deku scoffs, a wicked, wicked smile splitting his face as he leans forward, “I know what’s so unique about it, I just want to hear you say it.” the teen taps his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm, careful not to jostle his cuffs, “You got my fingertips, my blood, maybe even some tags if you searched in the right place,” the Detectives right eye twitches this time, and Deku’s grin stretches under his mask, “but you got absolutely nothing on who I am. Not even a measly name.”
And Deku’s gotta hand it to the Detective, their poker face was good.
But he knew just where to look to see the displeased tension in their jaw.
To see the exhausted apprehension around their eyes.
To find the desperation in the way their shoulders sat.
So it’s not surprising the next words the Detective speaks are “You are correct.” And Deku counts it as his win. However, the Detective isn’t finished yet, “We took a hair sample, just a few strands since that’s all we really need, and this,” they pull a thin manila folder out from their long trench coat and set it in front of Deku, “is all we could find.”
Tsukauchi’s eyes are dark, Deku finds, darker than Father’s, definitely darker than Jared’s, and they’re filled with void dark that seeps into his soul.
Oh.
Deku likes this.
Especially when the Detective leans forward, hand still on the manila folder that is more than likely just completely empty, and speaks low and slow as if Deku were a true threat, “Care to explain why you’re a ghost, kid?”
When was the last time Deku has faced someone he was worried would find too much?
Was it when he’d snuck food to the catacombs for the archivists?
When he’d been caged by the Russian Guard and kept underground for weeks?
When he’d faced the elders and lied about what Jared did?
.... too long, and not long enough, especially as his blood seemed to electrify in his veins and his lungs expanded with excess air that tasted too sweet. Adrenaline coursed through him as the needles of his mask dug deeper to hold against his grin. He feels blood streak down to his chin, slip past his lips and over his tongue to soak his shirt.
He ignores the glimmer of alarm that crosses the Detective's face as he cackles, the sound wet and sour as he shakes his head hard enough to send crimson droplets scattering.
“I want you to figure it out alone, Detective-san.” Deku looks up, green eyes piercing and glowing under the fluorescents as his voice fills with giddiness, “An’ with a quirk as pretty as yours, I bet it’d be easy pickin’s for you lot.”
The Detective blinks out of their daze, brow furrowing in confusion apprehension fear before muttering, “Pretty?”
Deku laughs, cackles, flexes his throat to hyena giggle as he keeps his eyes locked on the Detective and their twitching left eye, “Your quirk is gorgeous.” Then, without warning, Deku shoots forward, feet ending up in his chair and arms straining underneath his torso as he gets up close to the Detective's face, and whispers.
“The ability to tell the difference between truths and lies, and one so trainable too.” The blood drains from the Detective's face, but Deku isn’t done, oh no, he’s just having way too much fun...
“How long did it take to calibrate your quirk to body language as well as words, Detective-san?” Right eye twitch, “How much does it hurt being around brokers and informants, who know how to twist words and truths and lies to snare the unsuspecting fool?” Right eye twitch. “Does it hurt when you tell lies, hearing yourself swap around words and flip meanings setting you off like a polygraph?” Right eye twitch.
Deku grins.
Too bad their time was up. Maybe one last thing to ponder on, yeah?
“What do you see when you look at me?” The Detective is frozen, pale, stunned as Deku drips blood on the useless manila folder and that useless voice recorder as he speaks, “Do you see a well defined lie, Detective-san? Or maybe, a horrible, wicked truth?”
Something dawns in the Detective's eyes, but before Deku could decipher it, or the Detective inquired after it, the teen fell back to his seat, head falling neatly between his hands, right before the interrogation room door slammed open to reveal a frantic officer.
“Tsukauchi-san!”
Still on edge, the Detective is on his feet instantly and moving across the room. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s someone demanding to see you in the lobby, sir.” The officer puffs out, yellow eyes wide and frantic as he glances at Deku’s prone figure, “They are... very insistent they speak to you.”
That’s my cue .
The Detective's right eye twitches again, this time it’s near a spasm, and they spin around to glare at Deku. But the boy just leans back with a lazy wave from his cuffed position.
“Bye bye~ Detective-san.”
Tsukauchi’s eyes narrow, and they point at the teen firmly.
“I’ll be right back to finish this talk. Don’t. Move.”
And Deku chuckles at that, shaking his head and “settling” further into his seat.
“Right right, see ya~”
With one last twitch, the right side again, the Detective follows the officer out the room and down the hall. Deku can hear shouting coming from that direction. He wonders who’s providing this respite.
Doesn’t matter.
He’s on a time limit.
So, flexing his throat again, Deku coughs. And coughs. And coughs some more. Blood dribbles out from under his mask, but he’s not worried. The chemicals from the patch are integrated in the muzzle strands, so any blood they get from him is corrupt. And honestly, the whole process looked more gruesome than it really was.
Kinda.
Though, there is no real pretty way to get a wire brace out of your throat. The House has tried.
Too many times.
So, tasting iron and feeling like he’d shredded his vocal chords, Deku twists his tongue to uncap the bit of plastic on his furthest back molar. The thin silicon wire follows and drags against the edges of his throat as he spits the cap out and works it out from under his mask. leaning forward, not really worried about any cameras at this point, Deku reaches up with tingling fingers and grabs the cap.
It’s only a matter of seconds then, to pull the whole brace up and out of his mouth, and he’s dumping the three long, slightly flexible flat wires on the table between his hands.
It’s only a second more until he’s worked the fine edges and ridges of the metal strips into his cuffs and the restraints are clattering off his wrists.
Coughing a few more times, Deku moves towards the door, picks in hand, even when he didn't hear a lock engage behind the officers. Why would it? Not only was the room specifically for interrogations, but he was an unarmed and restrained suspect. No reason to lock doors to keep him in one place.
More’s the pity.
Only taking a cursory glance at his surroundings, and decidedly not going in the direction of shouting and chaos to the left direction, Deku walks briskly down the hall and past office doors. The sound of fighting fades as he rounds corners and follows EXIT signs until he reaches the indicated door.
He could care less about the alarm that blares suddenly at him pushing the door open and leaving.
It doesn’t matter as he’s already a block away by the time anyone would be the wiser.
He’s three blocks down when a presence makes itself known to his right, and he doesn’t even have to look over to know who it was.
Doesn’t hesitate in his step when a heavy hand pats down on his curly hair.
“Brat.”
“Geezer.”
Jared scoffs, shoulder checking the teen as they wait for the crosswalk light to turn green. In that time, Deku reaches up and pulls the catch on his mask and strips the device from his face. He works his jaw as he hands the useless device to his handler, taking the damp rag handed right back and cleans himself up as the light finally turns.
Jared wraps the device in the bloodied rag, shoving the parcel into his trench coat pockets, and huffs before stepping into the street with a curt “Let’s go.”
Well, Deku can’t exactly say no, can he?
So he follows, as always, just a step behind to be lost in the noontime crowd of Musutafu.
~o~
Naomasa stared at the carnage before him, stomach twisting as a rookie dry heaved behind him.
There was blood.... everywhere.
So much blood.
And no suspect.
One officer who had a basic blood based forensic quirk had just left with a crate full of samples. But even then, they didn’t sound positive about the results.
Apparently, there were chemicals in the blood, too many to count, and the samples were corrupt.
And there was so much blood...
Naomasa turned to the officer to his left, the man pale and fidgety as he took in the scene before him and the sudden agitation taking over the Detective’s features.
“How did you lose him?”
The man paled further, eyes darting around as if looking for an excuse. “The alarms—”
“We specified it was a false alarm pulled by a quirked individual in the lobby.” The quirked individual that vanished as soon as the alarms went off, disappearing into the crowded streets like smoke and shadow, barely leaving even an impression of their presence in the minds of those who’d been dealing with them for the past 10 minutes. Lie. Naomasa’s eye twitches, and irritation starts to bubble under his ribs as he looks back at the bloodied room, “Where was the officer stationed outside his door?”
The officer was quiet, and the bubbling started to rise to a boil.
“Do we at least have footage of how he got out?”
The officer looks at his partner, who’s stopped heaving to instead look at the tiled floor with something like anguish, “Well...”
“Show me.” The man swallows, but nods and leads Naomasa into a room offset to the interrogation room. There are monitors for the cameras inside, and Naomasa watches silently as Officer Nibui tries intimidation on the kid before he arrives, how he talks to the kid until something switches off in his head, watches when the kid doubles over his cuffed hands and laughs, looks up, your quirk is gorgeous, then, it cuts off.
No snow.
No glitch.
Just...
Black.
Naomasa turns to the others in the room, “What happened to the rest?”
The specialist in charge of the cameras shakes her head, white eyes flickering as she stares at the screens with apprehension, “The feed cuts when the alarms start, sir.”
“Bye bye~ Detective-san.”
Truth
He grits his teeth, hands clenched into fists, and turns back to look at the teen frozen in frame midlaugh, body twisted in a way that screamed lie lie lie in his head until he had to look away. The whole encounter had so many warnings going off in his head, he could feel a migraine growing behind his eyes. Something was inherently wrong with the boy, but at the same time... not. It was like he’d been broken so many times he believed himself whole, and well... that just doesn’t sit with Naomasa.
Not with the words that dripped from the kids mouth along with the blood currently staining the room walls.
“Bye bye~ Detective-san.”
Lie
“He knew he was getting out.” the others turn to Naomasa, faces twisting in confusion as he frowns at the frozen screens, “This was all planned beforehand.”
“How—”
“I don’t know, however,” he leans forward, focusing on the figure that’s starting to blur in the footage, “whoever this boy is, he’s dangerous.”
“What do you see when you look at me, Detective-san?”
He doesn’t know.
Truths.
Lies.
Masks.
Reveals.
He doesn’t know what he sees when he looks at the boy, but he knows what the kid will be.
A challenge.
And Tsukauchi Naomasa is never one to back down from a challenge.