Chapter Text
By the time Izuku makes it to the Hero Commission headquarters, he’s already thrown together a tentative plan of action. Deku has never been one to wait idly for solutions. Improvising on the move goes hand in hand with hero work, and it’s always been one of his greatest strengths. After all, it was his tendency to act without hesitation when it matters most that drew All Might’s attention to Izuku in the first place.
Izuku takes a moment to steady his breaths and smooth out his mussed appearance, brushing dust and lingering bits of his living room wall from his pants. He carefully avoids thinking of how much repairs to his living room wall will cost once this is all over. Right now there are more important things to worry about.
He frequents headquarters often enough that it’s hardly an effort at all for Izuku to approach the security guard posted in the lobby with his trademark charming smile.
“Deku!” The security guard’s voice squeaks out of him. He scrambles up from where he’d been reclining against the wall. “Is there an emergency? I wasn’t told to expect anyone to arrive at this time…” His neatly combed black hair swivels back and forth, big brown eyes comically wide, as if expecting a villain to barrel through the wall of the building at any moment.
Izuku waves his hands around and laughs. “No, no, everything is fine! There’s no emergency. Sorry for worrying you!” He sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, and the security guard’s eyes track the motion, lingering on his hands.
Objectively, Izuku knows by now that he’s widely perceived as attractive. He’ll never be used to it- the lingering eyes, the whispering and appreciative looks exchanged by passersby when he’s in the public eye. Ochako and Tsu never fail to tease him about it when they go out with their friends for drinks. Deep down, he will always see himself as Deku- the quirkless, bashful nerd with gangly limbs and messy hair, lugging around notebooks filled with hero analysis and costume prototypes. Just a small boy with big dreams of being a hero one day.
But the name Deku means something else to the general public now. Deku is the number one hero on the charts, dubbed Japan’s Sweetheart and one of Japan’s most sought after bachelors to his never ending embarrassment. He’s sat through enough intrusive interview questions about his dating life and promotional photoshoots in the past ten years to come to begrudging terms with the fact that he’s grown into what most people consider to be a very attractive man. While the attention leaves him red faced and feeling rather off balance, there are times where leaning into it can work to his advantage. Times like now.
He stretches his arms above his head as if working soreness out of his muscles, exposing a strip of scarred, tanned muscle when his shirt lifts the tiniest bit with the motion. The guard’s eyes drop immediately and rake over the area. A faint pink flush rises high on the guard’s cheeks. He lowers his arms back down with a quiet grunt and the man’s eyes jump to Izuku’s face just in time to watch Izuku gaze back at him through thick lashes. He’s careful to appear just the right amount of oblivious and self deprecating.
“This is a little bit embarrassing, but the truth is I had a very important appointment on the sixth floor this afternoon and I got so busy that it completely slipped my mind. Hatsume is not happy with me.” The guard winces in sympathy. “Anyway, the message said to come immediately, and I thought making her wait any longer would probably just make it worse for everyone.”
The nervous note in his laughter that has the security guard’s eyes widening even further.
In the past decade, Hatsume Mei has earned a reputation for herself around headquarters. The woman is a being composed entirely of mad genius, chaos, a healthy penchant for mischief and coffee. She’s also the person in charge of all support items and upgrades to licensed heroes. It’s a lethal combination if one manages to find themselves on the wrong side of her good graces. Headquarters Security is very familiar with Hatsume’s temper.
“Well then! You’d better go before she takes down the whole building with one of those prototypes of hers, sir.”
“You’re right! I’m sorry for taking up your time. Keep up the good work!”
The security guard beams. “It was no trouble at all, Deku.”
The man’s warm eyes follow Izuku all the way to the main elevator, and alongside the rising guilt he feels, part of Izuku feels dirty for manipulating the guard. But being the number one hero and Japan’s Sweetheart isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, and if it comes with some additional perks, what’s the harm in using them once in a while when he really needs to? A darker part of him acknowledges that if it means helping Kacchan, he’d do far worse. In fact, he isn’t sure if there’s a limit to what he would do. He steps into the harsh artificial light of the elevator and absently hits the button for the sixth floor.
The elevator dings, jarring him from the disturbed spiral of his thoughts just in time to see the door slide open. Izuku finds himself grateful for his enduring friendship with the chaotic girl from the support course he’d met all those years ago at UA. Having connections to the Hero Commission’s top engineer is mutually beneficial- Izuku always gets first dibs on fresh tech and support items. Not to mention an item or two from her discreet adult line designed to withstand powerful quirks like OFA in the bedroom. The first time she offered him a prototype to test out, his face had been red for two days with the knowledge that Hatsume knows too much. As her friend, Izuku is also privy to information that the majority of Japan outside of a small circle of people don’t know- like the fact that Mei is not just an engineer. She doubles as an underground hero.
Familiar enough with the sprawling workshop and always interested in the development of hero tech, Izuku finds himself looking around curiously as he makes his way through the piles of scrap metal and partially completed projects.
Mei’s quirk might not have been enough to get into the hero course at UA, but Eraserhead wasn’t blind to its potential in the network of underground heroes. Having a quirk like zoom has turned out to be incredibly useful when it comes to espionage and stake outs. Mei’s quirk allows her to gather information from a safer distance than underground heroes like Mind Jack and Eraserhead.
It just so happens that her name was on the classified files Izuku hacked into for the Saffron case.
Thudding electronic beats echo around the space, ensuring that Izuku’s approach is silent. Thirty seconds into his exploration of her workshop, Izuku catches a glimpse of pink hair. Mei has her back turned to him while she works on one of her babies. He takes a deep, steadying breath and attempts to get his thoughts in order before he speaks. When it comes to Mei, it’s always better to cut to the chase.
“I thought you’d get here quicker!”
“Ah!” The unexpected voice startles Izuku, his toe catching on the edge of a box of scrap materials. His arms windmill for balance comically for a moment before he manages to right himself.
Maybe Izuku is just that predictable, or maybe Mei has upgraded her security tech. The gauntlet she’s working on hits the table with a dull thunk, and then she’s turning towards him and lifting her goggles until they settle on the top of her head. It’s always somewhat unsettling having those scrutinizing yellow-green eyes focused solely on him. She blinks once and then visibly brightens, rushing into his space all at once. She leans up on her toes and pinches his cheek gently.
“Wow, you must have gotten some serious sun this summer! You have eleven new freckles on your face, ‘Zuku!”
He’s accustomed to Mei’s utter lack of boundaries when it comes to personal space by now. He’s grown in height and bulk since he was a student at UA, so they aren’t eye level anymore. He’s confident, assured in his skin these days. He doesn’t fluster as easily as he used to when he was a teenager. Still, he can’t quite keep the flush from rising in his cheeks at her teasing.
He steps back and rubs absently at his face. “You know I hate it when you use zoom on my face, Mei.”
“I know. It’s just so fun to make you blush,” Mei laughs, and then her voice turns chiding. “You know, Ten and I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve just been-“
“Busy, yes I know. Being Japan’s darling number one doesn’t leave time for much else does it? You look like you haven’t slept in a week. When’s the last time you went on a date?”
He can’t help the way his nose wrinkles then. He doesn’t have time to talk about his lack of a love life right now. He has even less time to worry about dating. Kacchan is counting on him. And besides, that’s what Mei’s toys are for. “Listen, Mei, I-“
She crosses her arms over her chest and raises a brow at him. “Rude. You’re really going to hack into my confidential files and barge into my workshop and you won’t even stay for a little bit of conversation? You sure know how to make a woman feel special, ‘Zuku.”
Guilt pools in the pit of his stomach. Of course Mei knows that he accessed her files. That he was able to access them at all is a miracle in itself. It’s not that he’s trying to use his friend or cause her any trouble…it’s just that the circumstances here dictate that Izuku do whatever is necessary. For Kacchan.
Before he can apologize, her eyes soften and her face takes on a somber expression. A gloved hand claps his shoulder consolingly. “Look. I saw what that man is capable of. We lost good people, you know. I know what happened to Bakugou, and I know why you’re here.”
Izuku swallows hard and nods, his resolve hardening.
“I know what he means to you. What he’s always meant to you. So I’m not angry with you, even though this was a dick move, Izuku.” She presses something into his hand and when he looks down, he sees her employee badge. Izuku’s jaw drops. “Hey, listen. This is important. If Ten asks, you stole this from my workshop. ‘Kay?”
“Of course.” His voice is hoarse. “Are you sure…? I don’t want to get you into trouble…”
Mei tosses her head back and laughs. “Did you really think you’d be able to get into his containment cell without collateral damage? You might be the number one hero but you’re still just a guy, Deku.”
“I got this far didn’t I?”
His friend’s expression is fond. “Sure. But listen. Up there it’s different. Security is tight. And for a good reason. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“There’s no other option.” Izuku sucks in a trembling breath, the simmering rage swelling again with his determination. “He hurt Kacchan. His quirk is still hurting Kacchan. I need to talk to him.”
Mei nods. “Yeah, okay.” She turns away and strides back to the table she was working at. “You’ll need these, then.”
He snags the bag she tossed his way out of the air reflexively. Rummaging inside produces a metallic mask, gloves, and a pair of boots. His quizzical look is met with a laugh. Mei steps forward and fiddles with the mask.
“His quirk is suppressed up there, but I’d feel better knowing I sent you to him with extra protection. This baby is something I created specifically for spore-based airborne quirks.”
“It’s not going to blow up in my face is it?”
“Don’t worry, your cute little freckles are safe. It's been extensively tested and used in the field for this operation.”
Relieved, Izuku tries it on and finds that it’s lightweight, despite the metallic material it’s made from. Mei steps forward to press a button on the side of it and the mask whirs to life. It adjusts to seal itself over his mouth and nose. “It’s designed to detect and filter toxins from the air. I even added features to measure your O2 saturation and track your vital signs. You’ve never breathed cleaner air in your life. And it has built in comms for use in the field!”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Izuku can’t help but be excited by such a versatile support item. “Whoa. This is really, really useful, Mei. This kind of tech would make villains with airborne quirks practically obsolete. Not to mention smoke inhalation or particles from collapsed buildings. The practical applications for rescue operations alone-“
Those yellow eyes gleam. “I know. It’s pretty cool. You know, your costume is overdue for an upgrade and I have some babies you might be interested in…”
Mei goes on to explain the function of the gloves- built in fingerprint scanning overrides and they double as shock absorbent braces for his wrists- and the boots- noise canceling and built to withstand and boost OFA levels of speed and force. Izuku’s eyes are practically sparkling by the time he’s fully equipped with the items.
“You’re amazing, Mei.”
“I know. Be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And remember, if you get yourself caught, you stole these from my workshop.” Mei adds with a wink.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Mei-“
“When this is all over, I’ll accept an honest conversation over dinner about your pining as payment. I know my custom sex toys are fantastic, but they’re meant to be used as enhancers, not permanent replacements for human partners. Not that you have to have sex if you don’t want to. But I find it hard to believe that that's the problem considering the way you look at Kacchan like you want to eat hi-”
“Mei!”
“What?” Her mouth tugs into a knowing grin.
He grimaces at the heat that flares in his cheeks, grateful for the mask that covers the bottom half of his face and interrupts before she can say anything more mortifying. “Pining? I’m not- Kacchan is- I’m just-“
“Honest. Conversation. Preferably accompanied by something delicious and expensive.”
Izuku raises his palms out in surrender, looking anywhere but at his friend. “Alright, alright, fine. When this is over dinner is on me.”
Mei’s eyes wander his face a final time. Seemingly satisfied with what she sees there, she gives a sharp nod and wanders her way back to her work table.
“Go save your mans, ‘Zuku.”
Spluttering, Izuku squawks, “Kacchan is not my man!”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Mei’s laughter follows his hasty retreat from her work space all the way to the elevator.
Izuku is relieved when he reaches the twenty-seventh floor without any further delays. Mei wasn’t exaggerating about the level of security on the containment floor. It makes sense- each and every one of the cells contains a dangerous villain awaiting processing.
The Hero Commission handles arrests and convictions differently these days. Since the end of the war, the reforms to the way that Hero society operates have been extensive. There are no more incarcerations in Tartarus without a comprehensive trial. Those awaiting trial are handled with care with the utmost regard to their rights. The former top heroes have combined efforts with the brightest minds in quirk analysis and law enforcement to take on these hero society responsibilities- Endeavor, All Might, Best Jeanist, to name a few- and it’s for that reason that Izuku knows that accessing the containment cells without raising any alarms, even with Mei's access, is going to be a challenge.
Izuku is stealthy, lightweight and fast. He activates float and black whip seamlessly. He easily avoids tripping censors. It’s the guards on duty that pose an issue. Izuku might feel a little bit guilty about it, when his boot knocks the first guard in the jaw and he promptly crumples, unconscious. When the next one spots him, he dispatches him before he can raise the alarm with a chokehold. He’s even mindful to lay the man down carefully on the floor instead of just allowing him to drop like dead weight. He doesn’t want to hurt these people, but his mind murmurs Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan like a mantra, and Izuku has already committed himself to locating Yumekui. So he’s careful not to do any real damage to the guards that confront him, just enough to knock them unconscious quickly and quietly. He’ll get them lunch or something to make up for it when this is all over.
The area where the containment cells stand is eerily silent. He wanders past cell after cell, observing the names labeled on the lit panels to the left. It only takes a minute or two to locate the name he’s searching for. From deep within the oppressive shadows that obscure the inside of the cell, a single artificial red light pulses. It reminds Izuku of a blinking eye, opening and closing, opening and closing. The faint hum of forced air through the ventilation system is the only detectable sound that pierces the near-silence that hangs heavy over the room.
Without danger sense, Izuku might not have even known that a person stood ten feet away from him, backed up against the far wall. Not that the man poses any real threat to Izuku at the moment. The red light set into the quirk suppressant collar fastened around his throat clearly displays the villain’s nullified quirk to anyone that peers into the cell. The man has been rendered effectively harmless.
Still, Izuku isn’t here to fuck around. He’s here to get some answers. The fact that danger sense is pinging is proof enough that the villain’s intentions towards Izuku are malicious, even if he can’t do anything against Japan’s number one hero at the moment. And Izuku learns from his mistakes. He’s already underestimated Yumekui once already, and it was Katsuki that had paid the price for it.
The thought of Kacchan’s panicked cries, his body curled in on itself...it’s enough to have Izuku’s limbs crackling with green lightning all over again.
He slams a gloved hand to the control panel outside of the cell. It takes a moment to scan his glove, and Izuku practically holds his breath waiting for an alarm to activate, for security guards or heroes to come rushing. Instead, the transparent barrier closing off the cell falls, admitting Izuku to the small ten by ten room. The barrier closes behind him the second he steps into the cell, and Izuku is engulfed in shadows.
A long, weighted silence hangs between him and the man that attacked his best friend and hero partner. And then, as if no time passed at all, the silence breaks.
“Deku. Japan’s sweetheart.” The words are wrapped up in a purr, dark and pleased and grating all at once.
Izuku’s lip curls of its own volition- an expression he’s only familiar with on Kacchan’s face.
“Yumekui Etsu.”
There’s the sound of fabric shifting in the dark. Izuku has years of experience that tell him that the villain isn’t moving to strike or approach him. He’s only adjusting his position where he leans against the wall. The shadows hide the man’s features, and Izuku can’t remember anything that stood out about him when they took him down. He hadn’t been impressive in height or breadth. He’d barely even put up a fight. Just a low-tier villain with purple hair and red eyes- nothing out of the ordinary for Izuku to see.
“You’re quicker on the uptake than that hero partner of yours, aren’t you? Just what did you do to get your hands on the classified files?”
The scent of ozone fills the air, the space briefly illuminated by viridian flashes of crackling lightning. The fine hair at the back of Izuku’s neck stands on end.
“I’m not here to play games with you, Yumekui.”
“No, you’re not, are you? There’s more to you than a pretty face, hm? That’s more than I can say for that partner of yours.”
As if expecting a reaction, Yumekui pauses. Izuku stares him down in stony silence.
The villain sighs as if bored. “Why are you here, little hero? Not that I mind, you’re awfully pretty to look at. I could just eat you up. No wonder Dynamite is so protective of you.”
His jaw hurts from the force of his teeth grinding. “I have questions for you. You’re going to answer them.”
An incredulous laugh. “Am I? Why should I tell you anything?”
“It’s in your best interests to cooperate.”
“Is that so? And if I don’t you’ll do…what, hm?”
Abruptly out of patience, black whip shoots out of Izuku’s hands and wraps around Yumekui’s arms, lifting him off the floor of the cell. The sound his body makes when it slams into the wall behind him with the force of Izuku’s rage echoes.
Pinned in place and with Izuku’s lightning flickering across his body, the man’s face is dimly illuminated.
It’s a punchable face. The villain’s face is pointed, a sharp jawline offsetting features that look too delicate for the rest of him. And even in the dark, his delighted grin exposes the gleam of white, sharp canines, nearly fang-like in appearance. His eyes are a deep crimson, dancing with mischief.
“How do you nullify your quirk?”
There’s a stunned beat of silence and then the cell is filled with Yumekui’s laughter. “You read the classified files. There is no way to nullify my quirk.”
Black whip tightens its grip around the villain’s limbs. The man hardly reacts to the pressure at all, but Izuku is familiar enough with his own quirk to know that the shadowy tendrils are biting into flesh, guaranteed to leave deep, purple bruises blooming beneath. He doesn’t feel sorry. Instead, he feels a savage stab of vindication.
Yumekui tilts his head, violet hair falling into his eyes, inquisitive and amused. “What’s the rush? Wait, don’t tell me… Kacchan already begged you to fuck him? I thought he’d hold out at least a week. We have a little wager, you know.”
Though Izuku's face is carefully blank in the seconds it takes him to process the taunt, an unexpected internal alchemy occurs. The boiling wrath in Izuku’s veins turns to ice. Cold, brittle, unforgiving.
Something in Izuku snaps. Black whip roils and squeezes tighter still, like a nest of agitated pythons. A pained gasp rips out of Yumekui, but it falls on deaf ears. Izuku’s body just moves. There are no thoughts in his head, just the instinctive need to hurt this man that dared to attack Kacchan and then gloat about it to Izuku’s face.
He rockets forward with the force of an explosion and throws his fist into Yumekui’s jaw. There’s a crunch under his fist, a couple of his knuckles split. The villain’s head snaps to the side.
“Do not call him that.”
The punch had to hurt, even at only five percent of OFA's power, but in the flickering green light the man just looks delighted, even as he dangles against the wall where black whip holds him in place, his feet not even brushing the floor. “Temper, temper, hero.” He’s too smug, too relaxed for a man that violated Kacchan. Izuku can’t allow it to continue.
There hasn’t been a reason for Izuku to feel this degree of thirst for violence in a long time- no, not since he’d arrived late to a fight that was destined to be his to find Kacchan broken and bloody, a hole punched through his chest, carmine eyes sightless, an AllMight trading card beside his outstretched hand. It rises inside of him, an eruption building and building, choking him from the inside out.
He wants to take Yumekui apart with his bare hands. He wants to unleash One For All at full power and obliterate this villain from existence. He wants, he wants, he wants…no, he needs to calm down. He should clear his head, regroup, think this through…
“Not very heroic of you, is it?”
His mind blanks. “What?”
Yumekui chuckles, and the sound is gleeful, even with the undercurrent of nerves laced into it.
“Beating a defenseless man when he’s quirkless…” The villain works his jaw and grimaces. “You really ought to know better. I think you broke my jaw. What will the hero commission do to you now? Do you think they’ll toss you in here to keep me company? Aw, but what will poor Katsuki do then without his precious hero partner?”
He can’t think. He takes a step back from where he looms over the villain, looks down at his knuckles, already starting to bruise from bone meeting bone at such a force…
“I should kill you.” Izuku says, slowly, tasting the words. “For what you did to him. Your quirk is forcing his body to- to-“
“Gods, just look at you. How sweet. You can’t even say it, can you?”
To Izuku’s horror, he feels furious tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The cell walls feel like they’re closing in around him. He can’t breathe, he’s so angry!
The villain spits, splattering blood onto Izuku’s new boots. “I guess they call you Japan’s sweetheart for a reason, hm? Wait-“ the man chuckles, the sound almost awed, “Wait, wait, wait…don’t tell me you’re a virgin too?”
“What.” It comes out deadpan and flat, not even a question. Izuku lifts Yumekui with black whip and slams him into the wall again, hard. The collision forces a whoosh of air from the villain’s lungs, it hisses out through his teeth. But instead of crying out in pain, Yumekui’s bloodied mouth twists into a wry smile.
“Oh, this is just too good. Would you like to know a secret, hero?”
“Are you going to tell me how to nullify your quirk?”
The villain rolls his eyes good naturedly. “That’s the thing about heroes, isn’t it? Too many blows to the head in your line of work. Nothing gets through those thick skulls of yours.”
Izuku glares.
“I’ll say it slowly for you, one more time. At least try to keep up. There is no way to nullify my quirk. My spores enter the lungs, activate, I feed until the time runs out. That’s it. There is nothing else to it, no loophole, no antidote. Too bad, so sad, hero.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Izuku argues, his mind racing. Something is niggling at him, but he can’t quite pinpoint what it is. “If there was really no way to nullify your quirk, you would have shown up on the hero commission’s radar when your quirk activated as a child. The trail of bodies connected to you would be way longer.”
This, of all things, is what wipes the smile off of the villain’s face. Yumekui's eyes narrow. He glowers at Izuku, something hard and angry in his eyes for the first time since he’d stepped into the cell, the composed mask slipped. It flickers out of view as quickly as it appeared, but it’s too late. Izuku saw it, cataloged it, filed it away.
“The answer won’t change just because you wish it to, number one. Heroes are all the same, aren’t they? Kacchan didn’t have any manners either. But you know, since you’re here, let’s make the most of our time together and talk about something more interesting.”
Izuku’s teeth grit so hard that his jaw aches. “I’ve heard enough.” He releases black whip and turns away, not even bothering to watch the man slide down the wall into a crumpled heap on the floor. He fully intends to ignore the sardonic laugh behind him. He likely only has minutes before the security guards he dispatched wake up and search the floor. If Yumekui won’t give him the answers he needs to help Katsuki, he’ll find them elsewhere. He’s been here long enough, he’s pushing his luck as it is.
“Hey, Deku. Number one. Did you know that I was Kacchan’s first time?”
The drawled words are quiet, but the cell is small and Izuku’s adrenaline is rushing. The taunt might as well have been shouted through a megaphone with the way that it reverberates around the space. Everything screeches to an abrupt halt- his thoughts, his steps, the air in his lungs. Izuku swears his heart even skips an entire beat.
“Oh, I know. Shocking, huh? I could hardly believe it. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite himself, untouched. I really thought you beat me to it with the way you were looking at his ass that day on the sidewalk.”
Izuku turns slowly. He can’t feel his face. He can’t feel anything. But whatever expression he’s making must be what Yumekui was looking for, because he smirks, crimson eyes glittering with something triumphant. He reaches up to swipe at his bloodied mouth, never looking away from Izuku.
“You’re really missing out, Deku. Kacchan is so tight and soft inside. And the way he screams and cries is just-“
The world splits into jagged forks of electric green. Izuku’s vision whites out.
The cell bleeds back into focus piece by piece, sense by sense.
The scent of ozone and copper are thick in the air.
The floor is hard where his knees connect with it.
Izuku becomes aware of a distant ache in his hands.
He recognizes it as the dull, familiar throb of broken fingers. His chest hurts, like it’s being compressed through a tube. He can’t seem to draw in a full breath.
His ears are ringing. He shakes his head, hoping his hearing didn’t take too much damage before he realizes it’s the shrill sound of alarms.
It takes him a moment to realize that the ragged gasping sounds he hears are coming from him, and his throat feels raw each time they scrape out of him. He needs to breathe.
Beneath his own broken noises are ugly gurgling, choking sounds, accompanied by the sound of multiple voices, angry, loud, shouting.
“-eku! Get off of him!”
“He’s killing him!”
Rough hands yank at his shoulders and arms, but it’s futile. He won’t be moved.
“Midoriya.”
His blurred vision suddenly snaps into startling focus.
The once shadowed cell is painfully bright, lit by overhead lights. He squints against it as his vision clears and he becomes aware of several things at once.
His gloved hands are wrapped around someone’s throat.
Yumekui’s eyes bore into Izuku’s, red red, red, bloodshot, bulging wide and filled to the brim with terror. His face is mottled and purpling to match the color of his hair.
Izuku recoils in horror, scrambling back and off of the man below him.
“Wh- what-“
The cell around them is destroyed- walls dented, a metal bed frame ripped up from where it was bolted to the floor. He’s in a daze as he takes in the damage, caught off guard.
His arms are wrenched behind his back and cold metal bites into his wrists. Someone cuffed him! He reaches for One For All and finds…nothing. Fear slams into him alongside an almost nostalgic feeling of helplessness- of a time when he was just a quirkless child-
Quirk suppressant cuffs, then. It doesn’t calm him in the slightest. It’s pure instinct to react, to struggle like a wild animal in a snare against the restraints.
“Stop fighting,” a familiar voice snarls in his ear.
Izuku goes limp.
Feet away, Yumekui gulps air and retches like a drowned man. Multiple figures kneel over the villain’s battered body, talking urgently in quiet voices.
Izuku did that. His hands had closed around that neck, had choked, had nearly killed- and he would have. There's no doubt in his mind that if he hadn't been interrupted, he would have killed Yumekui.
He leans over and retches, spitting out yellow strings of bile.
Large hands close around his shoulders from behind and he’s lifted off of his feet and hauled out of the cell. Wide eyes follow them down the long hallway. There’s a beeping sound as a badge is scanned, and then Izuku is shoved roughly into an empty cell. He stumbles into the bed against the left wall and collapses onto it face first.
He scrambles, instinctively hating having his back turned to a threat when he’s been made so defenseless, turning towards the entryway where a figure looms.
“I- I don’t-“
“Have you lost your mind?!”
A tsunami of shame swells and washes over him.
“I didn’t- he-“
A growl, and then the distance of the cell between them is eaten up by a few long strides and those hands are clamping down on his shoulders again and shaking, shaking him so hard that Izuku is surprised his brain doesn’t rattle around in his skull.
“What were you thinking? You almost killed a man!”
“No- no! I wouldn’t…Eijirou!”
He never thought that one of his former classmates- one of his best friends- would ever look at him like that. Tears of anger and despair spring into Izuku’s eyes and escape, streaming down his cheeks. The redhead bares his pointed, shark-like teeth in frustration and drags a hand through his own hair, pulling. It’s a nervous habit Eijirou has had since they were students at UA.
“Explain it to me then, dude! Make this make sense. Because from where I’m standing, I just watched you practically strangle a man to death.”
Izuku shivers and curses his stupid tear ducts and his brain’s inability to disconnect any strong emotion from them. He wishes his hands were free, wishes he could scrub the stupid tears from his face. He doesn’t want to cry right now.
But he has to make Eijirou understand.
“I- I just snapped! He was just sitting there bragging about it, after what he did to Kacchan! The things he said…he acted like it was funny, Ei!”
Eijirou's jaw snaps closed with an audible clack. His brow furrows in momentary confusion. “Kats…?” He blinks once, twice, and then his eyes harden, and he can’t remember the last time he saw his friend lose control of his quirk. “What do you mean? What did he do to Kats?”
It’s Izuku’s turn to be shocked and then he looks away, abruptly uncomfortable. What if Katsuki didn’t tell Eijirou because he didn’t want him to know? But Eijirou is Kacchan’s best friend…
“What…? You mean you don’t know? Sensei said…you mean Denki didn’t tell you?”
“What didn’t Denki tell me?”
“I…I should- I mean, I think maybe Kacchan would want to talk to you about this privately.”
Eijirou’s face is uncharacteristically blank.
And then it crumples.
“Is…Kats okay?”
And that question makes something in Izuku’s chest sting, because no. No, Katsuki isn’t okay. He remembers the blond curled into himself, the trembling of his shoulders, the pink stained sheets, his broken voice telling Izuku to go away…
He chokes on a sob, shakes his head. “He’s…as okay as he can be, right now. He’s at home now. Sensei is with him. I don’t know. He won’t let me see him.”
Eijirou squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a measured, shuddering sigh. “Izuku. What did that guy do to Kats?”
“That’s enough.” A voice cuts in from the cell’s entrance, and Izuku and Eijirou turn in tandem.
Endeavor’s arms are crossed over his barrel-like chest, and his thunderous expression promises consequences. Best Jeanist stands beside him looking just as stern and disapproving.
“Can we trust that you’re capable of controlling your quirk, Deku?”
Izuku swallows his guilt and gives a sharp nod.
Endeavor scoffs and looks like he’s about to protest, but Best Jeanist cuts him off before he can.
“Red Riot, remove those cuffs.”
As soon as the cuffs are off, he rubs at his sore wrists absently. “Thank you,” he murmurs to Eijirou. The redhead won’t even look at him.
“Deku,” Endeavor’s voice booms, and he resists the urge to flinch. “Consider this formal notice of your suspension from your hero duties.”
Eijirou splutters. Izuku’s hands curl into fists in his lap but he just nods. He’s lucky he isn’t being fired or arrested, and he knows it.
“I don’t know what on earth possessed you to do such an ill advised, idiotic thing.” Best Jeanist shakes his head, and his cool disappointment is worse than anything else. “You understand that this means that while you are under suspension you are not permitted to use your quirk in public spaces.”
But Izuku doesn’t care about that. He lifts his chin and doesn’t look away. This is important, could be crucial to the case, might help Kacchan in some way.
“He wouldn’t tell me anything useful,” Izuku says, and his voice doesn’t tremble. “But he got defensive when I pointed out some inconsistencies about his quirk. You’ll need to investigate his quirk activation-“
“You’re out of line,” Endeavor snaps, cutting him off and it’s cold. “This is not your case, Midoriya. Go home. And don’t even think about sticking your nose into this operation while you’re suspended, or I’ll have you thrown back in a cell before you can say I Am Here. Are we clear?”
He huffs an irritated breath but doesn’t argue. Jeanist’s pale eyes burrow into him. The man has always had an uncanny way of making a person feel seen and exposed.
“This isn’t like you, Midoriya. You’re too close to this case. Take this suspension as the time that you clearly need to get your head on straight. I’m ordering that you debrief with support staff and submit yourself for evaluation.” He shifts his eyes to Eijirou. “Red Riot. Dynamite has requested privacy during this time. I expect you to respect his wishes and ask Midoriya no further questions. If Bakugou wants you to know, he will tell you himself.”
A muscle jumps in Eijirou’s jaw, but he bows his head and mutters an acknowledgment.
“Dismissed.” Endeavor clips.
Izuku is almost out the door when Jeanist’s voice adds softly, “Midoriya. The badge.”
He winces and digs into his pocket, handing over the badge with Hatsume Mei’s grinning face on it. “I stole it. Hatsume had nothing to do with this.”
Jeanist’s eyes soften the slightest bit. “I will take that into consideration.”
Izuku nods. When he turns back, Eijirou is nowhere to be found. He’ll need to do damage control- but right now, there are more urgently important things to be addressed. He hopes Eijirou will forgive him. He hurries down the hall towards the elevator, keeping his eyes on the metal doors and avoiding the reproachful glares of the security guards as he passes. He’s burned a few bridges with this mission. Not only did he get himself suspended and let Kacchan’s ordeal slip in front of someone he apparently wasn’t ready to tell, he might have landed Mei into trouble as well. He fucked up.
His mind races the entire way home. It’s several stops on the subway, and people stare. But he won’t push his luck and use black whip to get home after what just happened.
There’s a familiar itch under his skin, an insistent thing that demands his attention. While he didn't manage to get the information he was after, he did gain one thing. He got a reaction out of Yumekui, struck a nerve when the villain had been cool and collected for the entire conversation prior. It means something, he knows it does.
He needs to get back to his apartment and start an analysis notebook. The more he thinks about it, the more his sneaking suspicion feels like a breakthrough.
And if it means that he can ease Kacchan’s suffering…
Well, Izuku will do whatever he needs to do.
He stumbles into his apartment, head spinning with possibilities, muttering under his breath, and groans.
On the bright side, being suspended means he has more time to figure out how he’s going to get the hole in his living room patched up.