Chapter Text
To put it briefly, the life of a criminal was fruitful if you were willing to deal with the risks.
It wasn’t as movies or books portrayed, where if they were psychotic enough they could go in guns blazing and call it a day until the police caught them; or if they were smart enough they were in a higher stature above everyone else and just doing it for some righteous, not-so- self serving cause with the power of friendship and development and what-not. It even wasn’t as clean as to say if you were the Boss of some high level ring you were left unscathed with your hands clean of the maggot infested rot your lackeys worked with below; some higher moraled person.
No, if Izuku had to put it in plain terms the life of a criminal was the very same as the life of an actor, or a singer, someone in the entertainment industry. You were rich, you were dirty and you had an insane amount of skeletons in your closet that if released would cause a worse plague than that of all ten in the bible. They had the same things after all, drugs, trafficking, sex slavery, truly the film industry in of itself was nothing more than a crime syndicate, the only difference was it was legal if it got you famous. And if you weren’t doing something filthy for your spot? It was passed down to you with a silver spoon in your mouth, rusted with rot from your daddy and his daddy before him and so on.
Nepotism was everywhere, what else is there to say? Favoritism didn’t just disappear for criminals.
Izuku Midoriya considered himself of no higher stature, let it be clear, even if he had to build himself up from rock bottom and establish his own higher ranking. Of all the mob boss criminals, those who had labeled themselves as yakuza, he knew he was doing something wrong, not only in the eyes of the law but in the morality of most. However, that didn’t change why he did it or how he felt towards it, it may be wrong in the eyes of society but if you sat down with him as he explained you’d see he was doing it for a heroic cause. That’s what the yakuza was, after all; ninkyō dantai is what they called themselves, a chivalrous organization unlike that of the western mafia. That’s not to say all of them were, just some. But, if it made you feel any better -like it did most- he didn’t hurt innocents.
But who was he to proclaim one innocent over another?
God?
You never really knew, so he justified it as such: Invested and Civilian, those who knew and those who didn’t. Those who knew, who dug their hands into the worst pits of humanity, were the ones he didn’t hold any grace towards whereas those trying to get by were left unscathed, left to live their lives.
Calculated as he was, though, in his dissection of his stature and placement in the pyramid scheme that is society and the criminal industry as a whole, he was no heartless bastard and that he considered his biggest flaw in such a position.
Because now he found himself here, dressed in his finest on a Tuesday morning in some stuffy lawyers office instead of at home on his couch having coffee, having put in too much time and effort into this small infraction then he had to. But what was he if not thorough?
“Who did you say you were here for, again?”
“Mr.Bakugou.” The name sounded foreign as he read it off of his phone, the emailed receipt for the meeting that morning. Glancing up again, he smiled at the receptionist. “Aizawa told me to just ask for him but if you need a name it’s under-”
“Midoriya!” She smiled back at him. “Yes, of course, so sorry about that. Mornings just starting up, I should’ve known though, Bakugou is the only one ever in this early.” Her smile soon turned apologetic and Izuku nodded, waving his hand as if it were no big deal.
“It’s no worry, early mornings never get any easier, do they?” He mused as returned his phone into his dress pants pocket, absently flicking his eyes over the pamphlets in front of the woman"s desk. She giggled, shaking her head in agreement.
“Oh, go right in Midoriya-san.” She smiled brightly to him even still, and he could feel her eyes track him across the hall when he moved to the office she directed him to. The same usual glance over broad shoulders and a hulking form that didn’t match his kind smile and youthful face.
Posing his knuckles upon the door, he steeled himself, brushing a hand through his hair and adjusting his tie. He never considered himself one for formal wear but in his form of work, and in terms of keeping up appearances, it was truly a must. He took a minute, hovering with his back to the ogling secretary who wondered if her superior was just taking a while to answer.
Had Katsuki peeked through the curtained slot of the window in the door he’d know the man was preparing a face he didn’t usually wear in his everyday life, one of complacent pleasantries and meek stature before knocking.
Moments later a gruff voice pitched in an annoyed manner. “Come in.”
𓆩♡𓆪
Large.
That was the first thought in Katsuki’s head when he saw this man, broad enough that he had to tilt his body when he entered the doorway. He wasn’t that much taller than he was, after all when he met his eyes he didn’t have to tilt his chin all that much and he hadn’t had to duck beneath the awning, but his pure stature alone exuded a power all on its own encased in that deep red suit, the black of his button-up shirt accentuating the pitted black in his dark green curls.
“Bakugou-san?” He murmured, soft spoken and gruff right along the edges. The voice of a man , he could tell he was older just by how he held himself, and reached out confidently but slowly, no rush or hesitance in his movements. It was refreshing, usually those who came to him were twitchy and jumbled, anxiously stammering through their words and tripping over themselves to appear as if they were far too innocent to be with a lawyer. They all overcompensated, leading to trip ups. This man seemed to know just what he wanted and why he was there, as if disconnected with the purpose of this meeting.
Katsuki nodded, not even having stood up from his leisured seating at his desk, catching up on the morning files. He hadn’t expected the man here so early, masking his surprise as he reached out to shake his hand. “That’s me. You are?” He had no name to the request, if anything it alerted his suspicion, but the man seemed innocent enough, perhaps he was Todoroki’s older brother. He seemed as burly as Enji Todoroki after all, built and defined like a wall of muscle hidden beneath fancy attire, but his features held no resemblance if that splattering of sun-kissed freckles was any indication, pitted darkest over his cheeks and dipping beneath the collar of his shirt.
“Midoriya.” Was all he responded with, hand firm and calloused, Katsuki could feel scars nipping into his own palms from them, soon after the smooth feeling of a card was pressed there instead. Lowering his sunglasses, eyes the colour of evergreen bore into him like two fitted emeralds of a Swarovski watch, glittering but dark. He looked serious and put together but simultaneously sweet, the way that his friend Kirishima was sweet. Boy next door look, freckles and fucking all. And, briefly, Katsuki entertained the thought that this man was attractive with his stature and bright smile, but it was the sort of thought that was fleeting and brief, like when you see someone with nice hair on the subway or a cool style at the mall. It fades the more you focus on the matter at hand.
Glancing down at the card he read the name and tilted his head, murmuring. “Deku?”
The other man snorted, unable to hold back the amused hum that sounded close to a damn coo with how he was grinning at him as if he’d said something downright hilarious or, sickeningly, cute. “Sure.” He chuckled, taking the seat in front of Katsuki’s desk, glancing appreciatively at the triangular plating that stated his name in bold lettering. The surface of his desk was neat and organized, pens in little matte-black cups with even his laptop"s keyboard spec free.
Katsuki frowned, what an odd first name. He read over the words again and his ears flushed red as he noticed his slip-up on what he’d thought was just an odd (read: unfortunate) first name.
Izuku Midoriya.
Owner of Club Lupin.
Associate of Endeavour Enterprise.
On the back an email and a number.
Sighing, Katsuki moved to give him back the card. “Midoriya. I am flattered that you sought me out and I’ve spoken to my bosses but I feel as though you should reconsider. We have plenty of other candidates who’d love to take on this case.”
Raising his hand in refusal, Izuku placed his card back in the center of Katsuki’s desk, facing him. “Bakugou, not to be rude, but the success rate of your coworkers is nowhere near as high or as pristine as yours. You haven’t lost a case since you’ve been sworn in, that in itself is quite an impressive feat for someone so young, and followed by your case with-”
“Exactly why I refuse to do criminal affairs, Midoriya.” Katsuki cut him off, pushing the card back towards Izuku who merely glanced at it, then up his hands in a slow drag. Izuku was analyzing him, but too busy in his protest to notice Katsuki continued.
Hell, Izuku was confused.
Why was he even bothering to refuse with how easy of a case this was and how much money was falling into his lap? Katsuki was right, any other lawyer would eat this up without a second thought, so why wasn’t he? “This is too high of a profile case for me to be involved in as well, I do not wish to partake in the media shi-” he cleared his throat. “In the medias flurry to make some story of this due to Todoroki’s connections.”
Katsuki’s hands told a story that Izuku was already unraveling, pristine as the rest of him, nails cut evenly and fingers long and somewhat thin like an artist with lyre strings for veins, coloured a deep blue and subtle lilac. His palms, from what he’d felt earlier, were calloused beneath the run of whatever sweet-smelling cream he’d placed over them and there was not a single scar or blemish over his knuckles or around his cuticles. No jewelry, no rings, just a watch that appeared to be too dull and worn with wear (it’s been thoroughly polished though) to be his own, perhaps his fathers.
God, he’s a perfectionist. Izuku thought, looking up at the paleness of his inner wrist, the perfectly cuffed and wrinkle free white button up he wore tucked into what he assumed (correctly) to be designer pants that were just as cleanly ironed flat. If he dared to glance beneath the table, he’d know those shoes as well would be scuff free. Finally, meeting his eyes, he smiled warmly, resting his fingers on the card to push back towards the other man whose own hands stayed stubbornly upon it. He felt Katsuki flinch as if burned, heated pale skin earning a sprinkling of goosebumps, but he didn’t break eye contact. His hair, though a mess of golden spikes, were perfect too as if every which way it fell, be it one thick strand directly between his eyes or his bangs shadowing his gaze as a whole, were poised and positioned there by hand and not by chance.
“Listen, Todoroki asked me to ensure that his son would be given the best representation without the media being informed about the case. Now, as you know the police are prepared to air out his childrens dirty laundry to create a bigger shit storm-” he held back a grin at the way Katsuki’s eyes widened, taking note of how the unprofessionalism seemed to relax his almost anal way of sitting ramrod straight and keeping eye contact like a soldier. His eyes were goddamned ruby red, intense with a fire of determination and dignification that was powering his refusal. “-as you said, there"s a possibility you’re caught in such things. But of all the lawyers here, you have experience with that. You’ve dealt with the media, you have experience. You are the best we could find, Bakugou. I do not wish to settle for second-best.”
Ego stroked, Katsuki scowled and leaned back. “It’s a simple case, you don’t even need -”
“What I need , as your client, is for you to represent Todoroki as a sort of trial for myself.’ Izuku stated plainly, tapping the side of his glasses against Katsuki’s desk, giving him an amused look with a gentle smile. He appeared almost sheepish despite how firm his words were, voice gruff. “My business has been interested in investing into a personal lawyer for the firm, as you can see-” he gestured two fingers down to his card, tapping with his knuckles. “-I own a club. With everything that goes on in that district and the internal affairs of trading amongst other clubs and getting produce, I need someone who can do it for me. I’ve gotten to the point that handling the papers is a bit much and trading fairly, knowing all the laws, what-not would be easier with a personal lawyer. That and the fact people try and sue bars when they get so drunk and stumble out without their inhibitions, needing people to blame their drunken decisions on.” He shrugged his shoulders. “When Todoroki told me his son was in a minor infraction I thought I’d use it to my advantage to finally scope out the possible options. You have a very broad list of qualifications and this is only ensuring you’re still able to handle the pressure of the media. You’d get your own hours, be able to be your own boss, and be paid a higher salary than that you have here.” He smiled again, and his eyes seemed to bore into Katsuki’s soul as he murmured. “I just need to ensure you’re as good as they say, you understand. You’re far younger than what I’ve expected.”
‘I am twenty-nine, Midoriya, not sixteen. I may have a better reputation than my superiors but that isn’t all because I’m young and haven’t been around. I have experience, do not use my age as a footnote in my qualifications.” Angry, defensive, prideful . Izuku could see his pride swell at his chest, causing him to puff up confidently, chin raised in superiority that just made him chuckle.
Katsuki may not see himself as a child but he had a childish mentality and ego, one that was written clear all over his face, annoyed Izuku even dared to suggest to see him inferiorly. “I’ll be glad to see that experience, Bakugou, if you’d take the case. Someone like you would be a lovely asset.” He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on Katsuki’s desk so they could meet eyes evenly. “You’re different. I like that about you. Don’t let this place hold you back.”
“I am in no way being-”
“I’ve made my case. Contact me if you’re interested, if not I can see about that Monoma fellow that your boss told me about.” Izuku stood, picking at his jacket before putting his glasses back on, never breaking contact with the lawyer who stared up at him in disbelief, brows furrowed in frustration at barely getting through to him. “But I’ll tell you what.. you can stay here, pushing files for lawsuits for the same old boring families, getting whatever satisfaction you can from their temporary high or you can have a little more fun; that fear of yours be damned.” As he turned to go to the door he paused, looking over his shoulder. “All I know is that someone like you doesn’t settle for boring, do they Dynamight?”