Chapter Text
“And you’re sure he said Dynamight?”
“Positive.” Katsuki groaned, dropping his head down onto his arms, wincing when he accidentally knocked his forehead against the grimy faux-grain table Kirishima called a desk. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d first met him, and the green-haired man was before him again for a split second, a mocking smile on his face before he was gone again.
Taunting. He was taunting, Katsuki was sure. Flaunting his genius over his head for whatever sick reason he had. It merely being coincidental did not cross his mind, for Katsuki was convinced it was the world out to get him once things got too peaceful. So what of it if he had little proof.
“What's the kid bitching about this time?” A gruff voice rumbled above his head, unforgiving but fond. The Superintendent.
“Midoriya. He said he came by in regards to the Todoroki case.” Kirishima gestured to the dejected blond face down on his desk, practically tugging his hair out. “He knows about our little helper Dynamight so he’s freaking out since we’re the only ones who are supposed to know about him.”
There was a quiet chuckle low in the man's throat before there was a presence beside Katsuki, dropping into the seat by the other side of the cubicle. “Wouldn't be surprised if he knew you, he does a job similar to you. We’re understaffed and you’re both, regrettably, key assets. He might’ve heard of you when gathering his own intel, I’m surprised you haven’t seen him here before, let alone met since the stations rather small.”
Looking up, Katsuki was graced with a man he’d mistake as a relative with their superficial resemblances. Superintendent Kudou wasn’t what you’d call a warm man and the scar etched into his face did little to soften his demeanor which was already edged like a knife.
“What could a club owner give to the police force?” He grumbled, resting his chin in hand and glaring. For years no one knew who he was or what he did, it’d been a long time since mention of the case he fucked up let alone his internal affairs with the force, who did this Deku guy think he was? He considered it all merely coincidence (just earlier, he hadn’t, but he could be swayed), after all the man just needed him to do a low effort armed defense case, but the way he was meddling into his personal affairs was alarming. But he let it go with a grain of salt that maybe, sure, he’d just heard of him here since he’s been here long from the way Kudou spoke.
And he’d been speaking for a long time through Katsuki’s inner turmoil-monologue considering the look he was giving him right now. “Are you even listening?”
“Repeat that?”
Sighing, the older man groused. “Midoriya is involved with the funding that Endeavours enterprise lacks, he provides us enough to get by and then some while additionally lending a hand where he can. He’s had close ties here due to his affiliation with the Commissioner-General, who's basically his foster father, so he’s in and out of this place with a universal key. His degree does wonders in helping us profile a few criminals without having to get special forces involved like the PSIA.”
“He’s just a jack of all trades isn’t he?” Katsuki scoffed, glancing down at the manila folder Kirishima had graced him with upon entering to distract himself, he could deal with his employer later when he had to mull over the case filings. He was curious though, what kind of degree did he have? And why was he funding along with Endeavor enterprise if he worked with them?
Diverging his attention onto something else, he knew he’d be back to fretting later. This, however, was another bout of recent killings in the district nearby, all considered to be part of a group that had been running up stores for cash. They seemed like initiation killings, something affiliated with the Yakuza the way the fingers were cut off in a specific manner and the body was placed, but it was done so crudely that it seemed like- “I think you guys are looking for a copycat.”
Both men looked at each other then to him, pulling their seats closer to glance over his shoulder as he pointed to the crime-scene photos displaying the most recent killing. “If you compare these to the last confirmed Yakuza killings from three years ago, the cuts are completely different. Considering the fact we haven’t found the Oyabun ( the boss ), we need to assume he’s the one still cutting off people's fingers when they wrong him and not a wakagashira ( distinguished member beneath the Oyabun-a right hand man ) or an underling.”
He motioned to the crime-scene photos in a different pile, from the past killings or confirmed victims of the Yakuza, some of which were in prison. “These are clean cuts, done fast and in one slam.” His palm swatted down onto the desk and Kirishima jumped somewhat, chuckling sheepishly when Kudou cast him a warning glare. “This guy doesn’t seem to care about bullshitting or being gentle or taking long, he is precise with what he’s doing and he cuts right above or between the proximal interphalangeal, allowing it to be sealed up and somewhat functional. It’s always fast .”
Gesturing once more to the recent crime photo he mumbled. “Forensics said this cut was really sloppy, like someone kept making jagged cuts over and over to saw their way through the bone at odd angles and some were even done postpartum which is not the Oyabun's MO. You can ask any of the guys he cut hands of, and though they won’t say shit about him they’d tell you this fuckers a sissy compared to their boss. Not only that but the way the bodies are thrown around randomly is fuckin’ stupid, usually the Yakuza do it to leave a message. There is no message here.”
“There might be if you look close enough.” Kirishima shrugged, his gelled red hair spiking a practical shadow over Katsuki’s head as he leaned over his back, resting an arm up on his shoulder. “But I think that’s a good observation, we need to keep the Yakuza’s name out of the press the best we can since it’ll cause more harm than good if they think the groups active again.”
“I mean they could be, we never caught the boss.” Katsuki mumbled, since he’d been almost twenty-six when they’d cracked down on a big drug bust concerning them; everyone thought they’d be able to at least catch a glimpse of the boss but as they cuffed more and more lackeys he was nowhere to be found. They’d never gotten close to him, they knew nothing about what he looked like and those who dared speak only spoke in frenzied, crazed manners about green eyes. Predatory, hungry, dark eyes that could cast a shadow over your very being like a lion.
Katsuki considered it to be ridiculous, a power play that amplified things in their head due to the fear, but the way his past employees spoke of him was with a bone-deep chill. They respected him to a high degree, but they all called him insane, with some sort of psychopathy or sociopathy and bloodlust.
But green eyes and a hard-on for violence wasn’t exactly substantial in a manhunt so he slipped through the cracks and disappeared for the past three years with no evidence to show that the Yakuza still ran in their general area. He could be anywhere in Japan, he would not be here making bullshit killings where a poor teenage kid is found outside of his take-out delivery job. “The ages are also fucked up, the Oyabun never goes after kids.”
“Gotta appreciate a killer that omits children.” Kudou said dryly, but motioned for Katsuki to go ahead and write down what he discovered as he stood. “Keep me updated. And Bakugou?”
“What?”
“Don’t let Midoriya get under your skin. Something tells me the sick fuck likes to watch people squirm.” He then smirked. “But if he’s dropping a stack of cash into your lap just take the case, nothings gonna hold on Todoroki and it’s easy money. Gives you time to mess with him back if you’re petty enough.”
Oh, was Katsuki definitely petty enough. He wanted to know what this mans problem was, and fuck it he was too intrigued now to say no despite how much he didn’t want to be involved in the media again.
𓆩♡𓆪
“Hello?”
“Midoriya?”
“This is he. How can I help you?” Izuku spoke low, resting one arm over the steering wheel, pulling the phone closer to his ear. His eyes tracked the figure leaving the building adjacent to the street he was idle at.
“It's Bakugou, I wanted to take you up on your offer.” He looked surprised, as if not expecting Izuku himself to answer but a secretary of sorts.
Hiding a smirk, Izuku tapped his fingers upon the wheel, humming quietly in approval as he watched said lawyer make his way past the building towards the street. The way he walked was even controlled, as if he were purposefully fighting a slouch, continuously pulling his shoulders back to appear taller. As he spoke into his phone, passing close by to Izuku’s car as he got to the bus stop, Katsuki appeared to wear a face of superiority still as if he were doing this for himself and nothing else. Izuku had no doubt that was the case. “Lovely, when should I meet you? Is there anything we need to go over?”
“You’d need to sign a few things and if you’d like you can come with me to visit Todoroki, get a solid alibi down but it’s not something you actually-”
“I wouldn’t mind, he’s a dear friend of mine and I’m sure he’s absolutely stricken with his situation and a friendly face would help plenty.” He murmured, adjusting his watch to check the time before casting another glance to where the blond stood, not even going beneath the buses awning as if he dared the very heat of the sun to fuck with him. He held his briefcase at his wrist, hand in his pocket casually, eyes casting an annoyed flicker to the sky then looking over the street. Izuku wondered if he felt watched, if he could sense him or if he was just usually this annoyed with his surroundings. He caught the eye roll at his words though, having to hold back a chuckle. Of course Katsuki offered, thinking he’d refuse. “If that’s alright with you, I can clear my schedule.”
“I don’t mind.” He said smoothly, though the way his nose scrunched and he tapped a phantom rhythm over his phone casing said otherwise. He seemed to pause, mulling over what to say before settling. “I can meet you at your business if you’d like? To sign the papers?”
Now he really had to fight a laugh, since he could tell Katsuki was trying to weasel his way into information without getting himself too involved. “I don’t mind.”
He caught the second eye roll at the mockery of his words, his stance slouching a bit now, brows furrowed and what Izuku could only describe as a sassy quirk to his hip as he rest a hand on it and glared down at his phone as if he could see Izuku. There was a moment of silence before he got enough of a hold over his tone. “Alright, then tomorrow?”
“Perfect, come around noon.” And, before he could reply, Izuku hung up and threw his phone into the passenger seat on top of the open folder he’d rested there while waiting for Katsuki to leave. He watched the pure offense take over the blonde's face, the scoff of indignation, he barely had to read his lips to see the way he let out a swear.
“Fucking asshole.”
And if Izuku laughed for a good minute in the driver's seat of his tinted car while watching practical smoke fume out of the man's ears, that was his business.