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Chapter Text

For the slight amount of time he's known Midoriya Hisashi, a young Katsuki had his gut to listen to.

It told him not to trust the man.

When he met Izuku, his eyes were so wide with admiration for his father it made him itch. 'Toshan 'toshan, tiny Izuku would follow him around, wanting to always be near, wanting to be just like him. And with such a cheery, doting mother, the Midoriyas were a sweet, quaint family brimming of smiles and love. A perfect vision.

It wasn't until he was eight years old that he found himself alone downstairs in the Midoriya household, confused to see an unfamiliar face in the dead of night during one of their sleepovers, droopy-eyed and parched. Hisashi hadn't expected him to be awake, neither.

"Ah," he quickly tended to him as Katsuki stared at the other man, a mask covering the lower side of his face, one hand tipping the rim of his hat lower as the other was buried underneath the breast of his coat, the empty sleeve hanging limp. "Good hosts should be called by good little boys to get what they want instead of sneaking around, Kacchan."

His neck twisted to keep the strange man in his sight when the hand against his back guided him into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the name, frown unseen at the older man's height. 'Zuku can only call him that. Hisashi and him were not on a nickname basis. And he didn't like how he hurried him along, like this was not to be seen nor known about. The man couldn't have been a family friend. In the past three years knowing 'Zuku, Katsuki's never seen someone that tall before. He was imposing, intimidating. Something that snarled threat deep in his gut. And Katsuki wasn't a trusting child. He needed to be proven to.

Hisashi made a motion to lift him up onto the island and fetched him his water. He bent slightly to level with him, the rim of the glass was clutched at his fingertips, almost ready to slip but it didn't.

"Oji-chan is a very busy man, Kacchan," he didn't like the look in his eyes curved on the lens of his glasses. "Oji-chan's a doctor. Oji-chan takes care of everyone's boo-boos. And sometimes my patients get boo-boos when everyone else is asleep. So sometimes Oji-chan has to take them in and take care of them." The baby talk was demeaning. Izuku loved it, the mirth in his father's attention would make him giggly, but Katsuki felt a burn in his ears, an itch to scratch. The only relief to break something. Or yell at the man.

But Katsuki was a smart boy for his age, his Okaasan told him so. "But Oji," he asked innocently, pretending to rub at sleepy eyes. "Why were you downstairs and not in the office? Don't you fix boo-boos there?"

Hisashi stared at him and the silence made Katsuki nervous, as if he said the wrong thing. Hisashi looked him over cooly, calculating.

Then he sighed, smile sheepish.

"Oji-chan didn't want to wake you. My office is right next to Izu-chan's bedroom, after all."

So even as his eyes burned with critical doubt, he took the glass handed to him with both hands, careful as to not drop it when Hisashi hefted him off the counter and followed him up the stairs and down the hall to 'Zuku's door, a looming presence in the dark. Katsuki felt a large hand curl around his shoulder, long knobby-knuckled fingers digging into the flesh there with the slightest intent.

"Good little boys don't ask questions, Kacchan. And they don't look for answers. Or else they get punished." The voice in his ear made Katsuki grip the glass tighter. He never talked like that. An icy chill trickled down his neck as Hisashi closed the door on him with a lowly 'good night'.

His steps were shaky as he walked over to the futon on the floor. Buried within a giant mass of blankets and pillows on the bed above it, 'Zuku popped out, his warm sleepy smile calming his nerves in an instant. "You didn't have too much trouble reaching the cups, Kacchan?" His voice was full of sleep and it warmed Kastuki's cheeks to hear it so quietly in the dark. He shoved the cup in his hands, 'Zuku grabbing for it eagerly. He was glad that 'Zuku couldn't see.

"Oji helped me." He didn't mention that his father was already awake, and with a strange man no less. If he wasn't supposed to know, then 'Zuku shouldn't have a hint. The trembles in his shoulders told him that much.

"Did Kacchan have a bad dream?" 'Zuku handed him the glass partially empty. He took it in lieu of answering, finishing the rest of the water and gingerly placing the glass on the nightstand.

'Zuku responded by patting the space next to him. Without a word he joined him.

"I can't remember," he murmured after burying himself in the covers. They were face to face, comfortable with closeness as children are.

"It's okay if you don't. I'm here!" There he goes, quoting their favorite superhero. Katsuki turned his back to him.

"Shut up and get some sleep." He felt 'Zuku's warmth as he crowded against him. And his face melted into a small smile before sleep found him.

When he felt the first rays of morning on his face, Kastuki felt 'Zuku's curls tickle his cheek, his arms clutching a little around his best friend. He must have held him in his sleep, he felt cozy and warm but his arm felt stiff under the weight. It was still early morning in the light of the room, the curtains emitting a soft gray glow.

Through all the soft green, Katsuki peeked and froze, blood cold.

Hisashi was standing right at Katsuki's abandoned futon, looking down upon them. And it wasn't with fondness. But Katsuki wasn't known to cower in the face of challenge and stared right back, waiting for him to wake Izuku by ripping them apart, something he knew was so very uncharacteristic of his 'toushan.

"'Toushan?" Izuku slurred, stirring awake, his sleepy smile kept from the night before. "Good morning! Thank you for helping Kacchan. I was really thirsty." 

Hisahi smiled down at his son, leaning over to run a hand through his hair, the tips of his fingers nearing Katsuki's face behind him, but not quite. He remembers stilling so achingly well.

"Anything for Izuku. Sleep well?"

"Mhm!"

"Seems like Kacchan didn't, he's out like a light,"  Izuku's father told him, but he looked right at him to Katsuki's shock. 

The warmth fell away from Katsuki as 'Zuku sat up, pulling the covers with him.

Hisashi's eyes were cold on him, but he closed them quickly before 'Zuku would see, trying to lay quietly. His heart couldn't. Not being able to see the man's slight expressions, the ones 'Zuku couldn't see, actually worried him. He had no idea in the moment what the man was thinking aloud. He made turn as naturally as he could as if deep in sleep. Even facing away he kept his eyes shut tight, ears burning with the embarrassment of losing whatever game between him and the older man.

"Yeah! He had a bad dream so I let him sleep with me, just how you would when I got bad dreams, 'Toushan!"

He felt the space next to him spring up as 'Zuku rose from the bed, more than likely take his father's hand and Hisahi chuckled.

"That's my little hero, always saving the day. Come, let's let Kacchan sleep some more and wake him up with breakfast!"

The playful tone made his stomach turn. 

When he heard the door creak closed, he couldn't stop his shaking. He had a hard time keeping his temper, his Okaasan would nag him. But in the empty room he didn't have to, biting his lip so hard that he bled.

The next time Katsuki slept over Izuku's house after that he was thirteen. Izuku would ask him every other weekend or so when he saw him in school after that night, but he would avoid it by asking Izuku if he wanted to sleepover at his house, knowing Hisahi would refuse if his son asked. Eventually, he stopped asking, his interactions with Katsuki at school and outside of it enough to not prompt it.

Regardless, Katsuki's had too many run-ins with Hisashi without an audience since then. He's made it very clear to him that he doesn't want Kacchan putting his dirty hands on his son. Made it clear that he knew how little Kacchan felt and it was so very wrong and disgusting. That if sweet Inko found out she wouldn't forgive it- wouldn't forgive him- and never let him see Izuku again. 

Unlike Izuku, Kacchan wasn't so quick to tears.

But if you pushed him hard enough, he just might.

They would burn hot some nights alone in the dark, in his bed. He'd bite his mouth shut and hiccup violently with anger until he calmed and fell asleep, which took who knows how long sometimes when things just felt terribly unfair. 

It shouldn't be wrong if it made him feel safe and calm. It shouldn't be.

He knew it was Hisashi's way of keeping him quiet. There was more of himself that he didn't want Katsuki to know, nor Inko and Izuku.

It didn't take him long to find out. How Midoriya Hisashi would disappear most of the day for work and the older Katsuki got, he noticed more. He would come later and later. Strange men would linger on their street, the same men he would catch him conversing with quietly in hurried whispers. Hisashi wasn't aging well after the first few years, the furrow in his brow more prominent and the shade under his eyes deeper and deeper.

The first time Katsuki stayed over the Midoriyas' would be his last.

His mother greeted him outside their house one Sunday arms crossed, wireless landline in hand. 

"What's this I hear from Inko about you being a disappointment, hah?!" Her eyes narrowed, he scowls right back,  certain Inko would never say that. "She feels like you don't want to be friends with Izuku anymore. Not like it should upset her for what an ungrateful brat you are. She feeds and welcomes you all this time and you go and embarrass her kindness?"

"More like embarrass yo-" she smacks the side of his head.

"None of that! You're going upstairs, packing your shit, and dont come back until I know she's happy," his mother shrills, waving the phone in her hand. "Izuku misses you. For some fucking reason."

He sucks in through his teeth at her. She lands a kick on his behind as he walks by, sending him into the house.

He knew she was worried about him, how he's been home without his closest friend to keep him company. How he's spent more time with his anger than Izuku and he was lashing out, wounded.

Katsuki gets his belongings together and tries to get himself together, but it's not working. He's not comfortable knowing the secrets behind the Midoriyas' walls. But he feels like he needs to intrude, for Izuku's sake. He knows that tensions are high there between Hisashi and Inko. About what, he has no idea. Scratch that, he fucking knows that Hisahi doesn't want this faggot around their son, tainting him. He remembers walking in on them after Inko flustered and screaming that he can't take Izuku's only friend away, that it was for Izuku to decide. She put her hands to her gaping mouth, tears in her eyes.

He's sure Izuku's heard this argument a lot, but he never says anything to him. He's always greeted with a smile like he's trying to protect him, but it's so full of shit. He's not so fragile. He's not prone to snap under the weight. He was used to Hisashi's jabs. Izuku wasn't and he never exposed his own heartaches like he used to. Katsuki can tell it hurts him more than Izuku cares to admit and that pisses him off.

He shouldn't be hurting. And especially not because of him.

Katsuki fully blames himself. He's failed as a friend and he needs to redeem himself before he loses Izuku for good.

So when Inko opens the door with the softest smile, Katsuki lets her hug him (more like he falls into her, won't admit it though). 

"Kastuki-kun," she greets, running her hand in his hair like mothers do (or so he thinks. He can't remember the last his mother did that, but love takes every form, he guesses.). "Quick, come in! I made your favorite meal."

He rolls his eyes, "You know I like whatever you make, Obasan." Although the thought makes him smile the slightest. 

There's no sign of Hisashi in the house and it's quiet, save for the quick thumping down the stairs and Izuku runs into him, insisting on taking his bags and asking how his weekend was and if he read the latest issue of Golden Age, an origin series to the recent big hit All Might comics.

And just like that, Katsuki feels like he finally lowered himself into a hot bath after a long walk through icy rain: secure, content, relieved. 

After dinner, Katsuki follows a reluctant Izuku up the stairs after refusing to hand over his things. 

They're alone now. Izuku's cheer comes right off, a nervousness about him.

"My dad said he won't be back until tomorrow," he tells him. On a Sunday?

"I'm sure work is stressful for anyone," he says, feeling it's a safe response. He's right on the mark, Izukus relaxes his shoulders, but there's uncertainty lingering in the air. 

"Kacchan-"

"So-" they both say at once. Izuku giggles, Katsuki quirks a smile. "We reading Golden Age, or what?"

Katsuki startles awake and it's pitch black outside, the house is silent and he couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were on him. He's on the floor in the futon. He hears Izuku snoring above him sound asleep. He's feeling feverish and itchy, like the faintest graze against his skin. He blearily walks out and to the opposite end of the hall where the bathroom is, not bothering with the light, being as quiet and uninvasive as he can be as a courtesy to the sleeping Midoriyas. After flushing his warm face with water, he steps out with a dry throat and knows his next destination. 

Nearing the end of the stairs, he hears movement on the first floor and straightens up. Maybe Inko's awake, too? 

But none of the lights are on down there...

He takes the steps one at a time, light not needed to know which parts of the floorboards creak as he descends with a steady hand on the wall.

Reaching the bottom he can now see the faintest source of light and-

Someone standing in front of the door to the basement. 

He hides behind a wall, blood pumping too loud in his ears, in the dead silence.

Or he thinks? The figure is clad in all-black. He can't see hair so he can't figure out who it is.

He follows suit when the stranger slips through the door without so much as a sound. The florescent lighting of the basement burns his eyes as he watches the figure in a deadly stealth. The first thing he sees beyond them is Midoriya Hisashi rummaging through countless boxes, contents strewn about, completely unaware of what's happening. Katsuki's eyes dart back to a glint of light and he closes his mouth before he can choke at the serrated blade that the person unsheathed in an unnatural, horrific silence, seemingly from nowhere. His heart is erratic as the person slips behind Hisashi in his blind spot, poised and ready to strike. A black-headed cobra, he thinks, unable to move.

Just as he raises the blade, Hisashi speaks aloud.

"You never know when to mind your own business, huh, Bakugou." 

The blade halts so still it's as if the person is suspended by unseen strings, waiting for the slightest action, but their head slowly turns and as the person faces him without a single twitch of his body, Katsuki realizes that the will-be killer now knows they're not alone. And they're wearing a strange mask that he's only seen in history books.

He thinks of Izuku- god, he thinks of Inko- sound asleep in their beds. He's never felt so frightened beyond function. 

He hides his shaking fists behind him and finds Hisashi's face in the mirror against the wall downstairs, looking back at him. And when Hisashi turns to face him, Katsuki sucks in a jagged breath as the unknown gracefully follows, never found.

Hisashi found what he was searching so hard to find. 

A sleek black pistol in a gloved hand. Katsuki's skin crawls and his stomach plunges. He's gonna be sick.

"You know as well as I do. I'm caught up with some bad people, kid," he sounds muted, deadpanned. Nothing like himself. "But it's okay. You wanna know why?" 

He waits, so Katsuki trembles as he shakes his head in response.

"Ha, now you're scared of me, you little shitstain. First you try to ruin my son. And then you ruin my happy marriage," he chuckles darkly. "I guess it doesn't matter. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put a bullet in my son and wife's head while they're still asleep before they get to them first."

"F-First?" His voice breaks, a deep feeling that those strange men weren't happy with Hisashi. Izuku and Inko's smiles and laughter were in his head. "I-If I w-were y-you-your pathetic, weakass loser self, I would be doing anything I CAN TO SPARE THEM. EVEN IF IT MEANT MY LIFE."

The fear melted away from the bubbling rage that began to consume him, closing the door behind him and locking the bolt in place the louder he got. He shows his teeth in a snarl. It wasn't like All Might's smile, but with all his sweet memories, he wasn't going to let this happen. Not to a sweet woman like Inko.

Not to Izuku. Who has so much more to give to the world than him.

The man began to laugh, his laughter gradually dwindling to something morose and defeated.

"You dont fucking get it. The Yakuza don't care who you are. They don't care that you have a family, have children. They'll slaughter anyone you love in their wake. They'll kill you too once they get here."

"LET THEM," he snarls. "I'D LIKE TO SEE THEM TRY. I WON'T LET THEM TAKE 'ZUKU OR OBASAN. IF THEY DO I BETTER BE DEAD."

He heaves a deep, shuddering breath.

"And that's the difference between me and your worthless, no-spine-having waste of space. Maybe if they didn't have to question your loyalty, you wouldn't be here. Maybe you're better off dead," he spits out, jaw clenched.

The masked person cocks their head to the side. 

And before Hisashi can react- he was ready to aim in a fit of rage- the person turns their blade with a skillful toss and butts the hilt against the back of Hisashi's head, knocking him unconscious. 

Katsuki collapses onto the stares a quaking mess, relief never coming because the real danger is in front of him, stopping just short of his face, the protruding bird-like beak so close.

"I find you.... fascinating," they conclude in a raspy hiss before placing the mask on his face so quickly he couldn't see their face. "Now you're going to listen to every word I say. Understand, gaki? Every. Single. Word." Through the mask, Katsuki couldn't hear the voice but he heard the words loud and clear and nods his head.

"Good. Now you're going to be a good little brother and lead me away from this home without a sound. And you do not turn back. Not even once."

"I-I-" The person tilts his head up by the beak of the mask.

"If it's about that woman and boy upstairs. They'll be safe... if you listen. So decide right now. Do you want to save them?"

After a moment he nods again. The pressure was too much. He couldn't stop the tears soaking into the fabric as he turned around and snuck back up the stairs.

"My little bird tells me they haven't stirred once. You were very clever, closing the door," he hears them whisper behind him. "You saved their lives, just this once."

Outside, there was a black van already open, the inside dark and foreboding. Katsuki hesitated. 

It didn't deter the person he suspected to be with the Yakuza. He tosses Hisashi's limp body into the dark maw of the vehicle with little to no care for his well-being. As if he weighed feathers. He dusts his gloved hands of nothing and turns to him.

"I respect that you are afraid, but there's no need, little brother." And through tinted lenses he sees dark hair and gentle eyes. "Come. You said you'd do anything, little one. Plead your loyalty to our Father and I won't have to remind you again."

The silent threat pushes him forward and into the van, the door closing behind him as the killer helped him in. The van didn't start until the driver pushed the car in neutral down to the stop sign and it jerks him onto his side on a left turn, disappearing into the night.

Chapter Text

It's beyond cold and the walls are bare and sterile here. They made him scrub himself thoroughly of the blood splatter and dressed him in a white full body suit that only exposed his face. A mask and a pair of goggles conceal the rest and thick blue gloves are taped shut around his wrists.

"You're quick. That's commendable," the man who's finally introduced himself as Overhaul remarks. He's dressed the same as him, but all black. "Black hides the stains, but for you we need to get you acquainted."

Bakugou shivers, swallowing a thick pool of saliva and tries not to look at the quite obvious prone body underneath the sheet. He rubs at his arms, hoping to generate enough warmth. Overhaul beckons him to the table. When the older man lifts the sheet back and he recognizes the crown of Hisashi's head, he's repulsed and turns around midway, unable to breathe. His hands shake although he fists them tightly.

He can't look at the man he just saw begging for his life. Laying there. Dead by his hands.

He feels a hand gently fall on his shoulder and finds himself looking up into his golden eyes through protective lenses. Overhaul bends lower to Katsuki's height and it reminds him of how his father would comfort him when he falters like this.

"Think of it like an animal," he voices delicately. "Animals serve our purpose throughout their lives. We care for them and they provide for us in return. Sometimes..." he gestures to the body laid bare before him. The fact that it's Hisashi's face that's pale and unmoving brings him to the brink of tears again. "They stop being useful. They become too old or virile, or they're injured beyond their purpose. And you know what we do when animals lose their will to provide?"

"We repurpose them, don't we?" Katsuki whispers. He worries his lip raw, eyes shining with unshed tears at the older man, trying to relate one with the other.

Overhaul's fond smile doesn't belong here.

"Young yet so bright. That we do, little brother, that we do. Even in death our brothers serve us, as unfaithful as they may be sometimes. And then we help others in need in exchange for their service. May it be a new heart, lung, kidneys. May it be certain clients with... peculiar tastes. They pay us what they can if they cannot and make up the difference. Things like these are not plentiful in our society, so they become indebted to us.

But we save them, little brother. And I believe that's worth this sacrifice. Don't you agree?"

The humming florescent light stuffs his ears like cotton as he nears the body. Overhaul stays at his side, eager to teach.

"Start with the vital organs, parts which can't be easily replaced, while the body is still fresh. We'll open the chest cavity with this."

He doesn't wait for Overhaul to ask, hands upturned and feeling the dangerous weight of the powersaw pressing into his palms.

It's betwixt late night and early morning when he's quietly stowed back into Izuku's room, the room still dark as Overhaul kneels on one leg to pull the futon over him, tucking it just under his chin. He doesn't flinch when his big brother cradles his head gently in hand, teasing the tufts of his damp hair.

"The oyabun sees your promise," he tells him, voice reverent with pride. The room is too dark to see the emotion in his eyes. "We'll find you when you're needed."

The touch reminds him of Inko, tender, but he can't see how what he's done deserves praise. He feels weak when Overhaul slips away into the dark, leaving the home the way it had been, untouched and sleepy. Bakugo doesn't hear the lock turn with Hisashi's former key.

Knowing Overhaul's possession of the remaining Midoriyas' house key reminds him that there's no return from this place that's swallowed him whole.

As long as he measures to their expectations, there won't be need for it.

But the collateral hits him deep. His actions are the only withstanding for Izuku and Inko's saftey.

He lays awake on his side until the room lightens with morning, unable to have his back anywhere but facing Izuku. The distant sounds of pulling apart and tearing into Midoriya Hisashi's body are his only company. His stomach is roiling from the phantom smell of blood, so much blood, yet he can't will himself to vomit. It would mean getting up and confronting the tangibly real situation he's in.

And that's when he feels his eyes burning and he pulls the futon over his head, shuddering quietly until it's too hot and stuffy to breathe.

He doesn't remember passing out, but he remembers the pressure behind his eyes, the skin around it rubbed raw, and not being able to breathe calmly through his nose. He remembers how empty he felt.

He killed someone.

He killed someone important to Izuku.

He killed.

He took a life. Soiled his hands when he didn't want it. It didn't matter how Overhaul tried to justify this. How it was supposed to be his good deed.

He's a murderer.

He can't be redeemed. There's no saving him from this.

For him to let this go, this truth would have to be exhumed like the bins of Hisashi's disassembled corpse for Izuku and Inko to see.

When he's seated at the kitchen counter next to Izuku as Inko mills about the kitchen to serve them breakfast, he fears they'll find a stray smattering of blood that isn't his. Forgotten somewhere on his cheek. Or under the curve of his jaw, behind his ear. Somewhere he's missed in scrubbing himself raw. But they smile at him, like Overhaul, like he could do no wrong. Like he's a part of their little family. In this moment their world has yet to fall apart.

He can never let it see the light of day.

It only takes a week for him to fall apart.

Nothing much is said of Hisashi's disappearance. It seems like old news to them. Izuku confides the worst fight his parents had was right before Hisashi went away that weekend, but when he asks what about, Izuku doesn't want to say. It didn't seem like an argument that would separate them indefinitely, so he takes that into account. Overhaul told him to pay attention to every minute detail. Even though his alibi is secured, it's not guaranteed he will not be suspected in some way or other.

Bakugou trains his composure, but he can't help the anxiety that crawls along his spine, under his skin, fearing his inevitable exposure. Overhaul told him he has to bury these feelings. That his youth will cover up his bloody tracks.

The next few nights after that are hard. He runs into Inko crying late into the night too many times when he's over and it shakes him. He wouldn't know if it was because of Hisashi disappearing or leaving willingly that sets her off like this.

But when she sees him hiding beyond the wall separating the kitchen she beckons him.

He sits next to her, silent, waiting for her to tell him that she knows why her husband is truly gone. That she caught him leading a mysterious man dragging her unconscious husband out of their home.

She only watches him, appraisingly, lays gentle fingertips above his temple where his mother's palm would slap.

"Katsuki, I feel like you think you're at fault for something that has nothing to do with you," Inko tells him, still petting him tenderly. He feels his mouth sour. "Hisashi hasn't been the man I married all those years ago."

"It's not your fault. And I know how much my Izuku means to you. I know who you are to my Izuku," she wipes the corners of her watering eyes, trying for a smile that wavers under her distress. "And I believe in you. I believe you will always be his friend, no matter who you are. Izuku will always feel the same. I can see it in him when you're not around."

She cups the crown of his head and he doesn't fight it as she pulls him close. He feels her warmth, stunned, and wants to escape. He wants to hide the way his heart beats too loud and frantic, but Katsuki wants to be familiar with this feeling regardless of how much it hurts. He can feel his blood burning in his ears, like the warmth found it's way there. He can feel the ache bloom under his skull, trying so hard to keep himself inside.

And it isn't until Inko holds him tighter and tells him:

"I love you like my son. Don't you ever be afraid to stay. You will always have a home here, Kastuki..."

That he shakes in her loving arms, opens his mouth on a wet hiccupping exhale, chokes his quiet sobbing, twists his fingers into the fabric of his pants and feels wetness seep into her sweater.

That he crumbles from the guilt he didn't ask for.

To think his happiness is right at his fingertips.

And only beyond that point, he'll never be able to reach. He couldn't even have a chance at it, the yearning in his hands wouldn't be able to glance it no matter how strong it was.

He did this to himself. He didn't deserve them since the moment Hisashi acknowledged him as something ruinous.

May the man's cadaver be potential fodder for some gangster's exotic pet.

The days blend into each other for Bakugou but he knows it's not long before Izuku invites him over after school to complete their homework and play the gaming console his mom saved up for months to buy. It's an outdated version that Bakugou's long replaced in his room, but he appreciates something that doesn't leave him alone in a house with an unpreoccupied Izuku.

"You're rather quiet today, Kacchan." Somewhat.

He side-eyes Izuku, knowing his attention is on this particularly hard level he's been stuck on for the last half hour.

"Just tired."

"If anything, you're grumpier when you're tired. But not quiet."

"You think too much," he groused, kicking back on the couch, sinking deeper, pressing his propped foot against the table a tad more forceful (but minding the glass top for Inko). His fingers tighten around the plastic of his controller (something Izuku was jealous of for it's All Might colors).

"I know you. You almost sent Ishimi-kun to the clinic. And he didn't even say anything to you."

"He didn't have to," Bakugou gritted his teeth. It was what he said about Izuku, like he would've went along with the joke and laughed with him. He's not doing a very good job of being unphased. He's been picking more fights outside of school just to release the manic feelings in him.

He's found himself rounding on Izuku far too many times when being held back from breaking some shotty kid's teeth in that picked up on his sensitivity. Wrangling himself in has been hard since he's snotted all over Inko's shoulder until he couldn't feel anymore.

It didn't help when passive utterances about his questionable closeness to Izuku came into play, either.

Or the fact that Overhaul or the Shie Hassaikai seemingly disappeared since the incident.

The music cuts off from the tv when Izuku pauses the game to face him. "I just want to know that you're okay," his wide and honest eyes chase after his. Bakugou can't even look at him, and he can't help the heat of volatile emotions course through. "You don't ever let things get to you, Kacchan. Who cares what those jerks have to say about us? We know our own truths."

Easy for you to fucking say. What would he know about fighting back, when he cries the moment someone looks at him wrong? Bakugou's been fighting back his whole fucking life. Now he's fighting for both of them because Izuku can't even care to shut down any of their pointed accusations. For Izuku to turn around and say something he would say himself (with kinder words, no less) makes him bristle.

"Don't fucking mock me. " The surprised hurt on Izuku's face makes him burn hotter. "You wouldn't know anything of the truth if it was right under your goddamn nose. You let them talk and that's how they win. You wouldn't 'cuz all you do is sit there, too fucking scared to do shit."

He was expecting Izuku to brush it off like he normally does and apologize. "And you're talking too much," he takes in narrowed eyes and crossed arms and the scoff hitting him in the face."What they say will never change the way I look to you. Look for you. I don't understand you tearing up the place for it and for what? What would you be proving to them, Kacchan?"

He can't place why that makes him so uneasy. He doesn't know if it's Izuku's stance or the way he looks at Bakugou like he's never been so wrong. His hands have a tremble to them that tempts him to clench tighter and launch them right at Izuku's chin. Izuku wouldn't know the pressure of upholding his image now that he's ruined his own future. He could never begin to comprehend what a weakness he is to be exposed to, but he just can't stand to distance himself from his closest friend. Izuku would never have to bear this insurmountable charge. He would never know the weight of Bakugou's world now, when he's able to feel earnestly and wholly the way he is without any doubt or pain. Bakugou will do anything to keep it that way forever.

It doesn't mean he can't feel this uncut jealousy of wanting it for himself.

"You seem too comfortable with the way people talk about us. You tryna say something?"

There's an anxious thrum beneath his bite. He's trying to shift the focus away from himself, but he doesn't understand what kind of response he wants from this. Why does he care to know what Izuku feels?

"I am. Their opinions don't matter to me. Yours does."

This has got red tape all over it and he's just making a horrid mistake, tugging on the loose strands, letting these words feed him hope.

A knock at the door saves Bakugou from unfolding something he wasn't all too ready for. Izuku has to put his thoughts aside, bounding up to the door to look through the peephole.

The door parts for a lanky man in a loose-fitting suit towering over Izuku, sunken eyes subtly looking into the home to meet Bakugou's eyes. "Pardon for the intrusion, shounen. I was hoping to find Midoriya Inko here. You're her son, Midoriya Izuku?"

Izuku nods for him, not understanding the dangers of confirming all that information to a complete stranger that has Bakugou rolling his eyes. Izuku doesn't understand how detrimental his naivety is. He fears he won't be able to leave Izuku alone if things get worse.

"Ah." Under Bakugou's sceptic stare, the man makes haste to show his credentials: a gold badge with a distinct engraving.

"Toshinori Yagi. I am a detective with the Musutafu precinct. We have some questions for your mother to answer."

Bakugou's heart drops into his stomach. He knew this would be coming, but so soon?

And Izuku let's him in, sits him in the living room in the singlet adjacent to them, offers Detective Toshinori refreshments. While Bakugou stares.

Because it wouldn't be like him to cower from any kind of scrutiny. And the old man feels like a familiar presence --

But from where?

He watches Toshinori settle his eyes over the table. The detective reaches for the splayed comic, a fond quirk to his lips that lingers in Bakugou's mind.

"It finds me all the way here," he chuckles before he clears his throat deeply underneath his hand, and then --

His wide smile. It looks like --

The walls around them cow under booming laughter and it's like they're six again with their Saturday routine, waking up before ten in the morning and scrambling down Izuku's stairs to fight for the remote. Having the tv on their favorite channel, hearing the same laughter as they watch last week's recap. Squirming in their seats listening to the opening credits. It quickly fills him with sweet nostalgia and mirth.

There's a clattering sound from the kitchen, and then Izuku's throwing himself into the room, tripping over the rug, his mouth agape as he points a tremoring finger at the man he idolizes most sitting in his living room in a silent scream.

"AHAH- AH-ALL--" Izuku claps his hands over his mouth, the next words peeking through his fingers with barely restrained excitement. "Might..? In my- M-My hhhhh--!"

"Now you did it," Bakugou tells him, under his own hand. Even he's overwhelmed but has more tact than the literal nerd yammering away with his backed turned to them. Izuku's ultimately beside himself.

"Did you forget your fucking manners, Deku?"

"Ah, th-th-the drinks!" It breaks Izuku from his muttering spell. He still seems disoriented as he runs back into the kitchen with his unblinking eyes still on the older man. Bakugou almost wants to yell at him to watch where's he's going, but the wall Izuku runs into is suffice.

"What a mean name, young boy."

"I never really call him that," the stern look on All M -- Detective Toshinori's face makes Bakugou quick to speak up, his face warm as he looks away (he's definitely not pouting). "We were little practicing our writing and I read his name wrong, s'all..."

"Hm."

Izuku sets down a tray of tea with rattling ceramic and shaky arms. He finally seats himself smoothing a hand over the bump on his head.

"I didn't think there would be kids your age still watching that," the man admits to them sheepishly. "It was a time before you were even born."

"Who wouldn't!?" Izuku chimes in, getting comfortable. "The Symbol of Peace was still airing up until the last five years on the local channel! Every Saturday morning! All Might was beyond his time! It was the peak of live-action filming at it's very best right before anime-- the story-- the villains and fear-- but that didn't matter if you were there and you-- you're ALL MIGHT! A hero that always saves--"

Bakugou shoves him, having enough of the stupid childish wonder on Izuku's face. Toshinori coughs. The older man's trying to wave off the unexpected attention, hiding behind his tea. Gosh, even Bakugou was burning up with secondhand embarrassment.

"A-Ah, sorry."

"I was," he corrects him, now that he has a moment to speak. "I didn't realize the impact this must have on you boys, to see me like this." Bakugou can't understand how this wizened cop was their childhood hero. Physically, he barely resembles anything of what that man used to be if he's this old. He looks like he's been chewed up multiple times (like he would ever say that out loud). He lost that recognizable stature meant to overcome any villain. His telling hairstyle didn't last the test of time, either, falling limp and dull beside sleep-deprived yet determined eyes.

"Why are you here?" Izuku finally has the sense to ask what Bakugou's been thinking this whole time.

"A real hero will always find a way for justice to be served," Toshinori recites from the recesses of his memory, eyes bright, and it shuts Izuku up with so much glee. What a fanboy, Bakugou thinks, even though he'll never admit he feels the same way. He also thinks the older man enjoys it himself if soft eyes are anything to go by.

The lock turns and Midoriya Inko steps through the front door, arms full of groceries and winded. She's been out of the house more picking up extra work since she hasn't heard from Hisashi all this time, Bakugou sourly remembers.

"OKAASAN," Izuku runs up to her, taking everything from her hands, "You wouldn't believe who's here!"

"Oh, I must have been running late," Inko bows quickly, not at all surprised to see the detective. "Izuku, dear, will you help put these away and take Katsuki to your room, maybe watch tv in my room?"

Izuku didn't get to ask All Might the rest of his lengthy questions. "But--"

"It's okay, young Midoriya. This is between us grownups. I'm sure you can understand the respect of privacy between two adults having an important discussion?"

The nerd says nothing else, nodding solemnly and doing what he's told.

Bakugou can't do that.

When they're in Izuku's room, just when the house becomes awfully quiet, he leans his weight against the door, not listening to Izuku rambling, but what he can hear downstairs.

"Kacchan, what are you doing?!" Izuku pulls him back by his wrist when the door clicks open.

"Shut the hell up if you don't wanna get caught," Bakugou hisses back with a finger pressed to his own lips.

"But All Might said--!"

"To you, yeah. But not to me. Now shut it." He moves through the parted door with ease, calming his breathing. Slowly finds himself a step above the one that creaks.

"... I know the uncertainty must be hard on the boy..."

The hand tugging him back by his shoulder is insistent, but Bakugou shrugs it off.

"I just, I don't know what to tell him anymore and it's been weeks since I filed the missing person's report... Over the phone you told me you have a lead on Hisashi," Inko's hushed tone barely reaches his ears, sounding hopeful. "And you finally found him?"

"Yes... but not exactly..."

He bristles at the detective's response, blood going cold.

"Ka--?" Before he can feel the breath on his ear, he binds the other in a headlock, slaps a hand firmly on the other's mouth and forcing it shut.

"Toshinori... you said you found him, right?" she urged on. "That there was a lead?"

"We arrested a man we've believed to be the reason for several disappearances within the last year. We had a search warrant--"

Toshinori stops to run his palms deeply along his face.

"There was a match to some of the flesh stored in his freezer, to that of student Garaki Tsubasa. And countless yet-to-identify human remains, to be vague."

Bakugou can feel the tremble of Izuku's jaw against his hand. Garaki Tsubasa was a former classmate in primary who they haven't seen since they moved on to junior high. It was a shock to him, too.

Inko couldn't be heard within the walls separating them.

After an impregnable silence: "Ma'am, are you familiar with your husband's body? Did he have any tattoos? Any symbols or irezumi?"

"N-Not anything like that. Only one. He said it was a foolish mistake from his younger days--"

"Was it centered on his left elbow? An eight-point star?" They hear her stifled gasp.

"H-How--?"

...

The shuffling of paper was heard, then:

"Nonono--"

The impact of Inko's scream nearly knocks them both onto the stairs; a flinching first cut, deep into the flesh as it slices through. Her smothered shrieking, confounded sobs intensely rake through them both like screeching metal would. The kind of biting cringe from hearing the harsh scraping of cutlery against ceramic, high pitched and curdled. She was beyond consoling. And Bakugou had an idea of what she had seen. It was something he focused on through dissociating from that horrid night.

The Shie Hassaikai's brand, an inked curse tagged on the multitudes of creviced skins that surrounded him when he stood before Izuku's father. Overhaul's whispers drifting into him as the blade was guided into his hand.

Strike in the underarm, where the blood flows freely and inconspicuously.

The oyabun wordlessly observed from his seat beyond them, their eyes briefly meeting.

It seemed unreal, how the blade sunk in after the initial sensation of the skin puncturing, how it gave in like rubber. Almost fake with how very real this was. Hisashi's shouting and struggling faded into the background as he tugged the serrated knife in a slow pull, watching the florid red seep through as soon as it receded, overwhelmingly numb yet entranced. How languorously it trailed to the floor. How thick that red became under a second push and pull. How much more had ensanguined clothes, skin, the tatami flooring when he switched sides. How sticky and warm it felt on his cheek when the knife flicked upon receding again and the artery sprayed, how it made him shudder--

The body he remembered quartering, how cartable it was without the weight of blood usually residing within.

The eight-point star he bore into as he adeptly carved along the puncture wound with what little he learned from Overhaul's oversight. As he sawed through sinew, socket, and bone. As he wrapped the arm and stored it for who knows what.

He knew now.

The step beneath them groans as Izuku collapses into him, still clinging to Bakugou's shirt like a lifeline, its fabric twisting in his smaller clenched fists. He can hear Izuku's labored breathing through his nose: distressed bursts of air that told him just how badly he wanted to wail with his mother. He could feel the sob seize the other's lungs, bubbling up his friend's throat through bitten-closed lips. The onslaught of tears pool over hot and wet on his fingers as Izuku hands claw at his wrist, head shaking with disbelief, staring listlessly ahead.

Bakugou's sweaty palm was the dam keeping that despair from engulfing the silence beyond Inko's grief, from giving them away.

"This man has no name on file. He has connections to a newly emerged gang in the Musutafu district believed to be The League. He's confessed to ingesting the evidence we seized as well as his intent to do the same with what was left of your husband," the detective continued as it slowly but gradually quieted. Inko's single woeful moan neared painful. "Our precinct has traced back the symbol on his arm to our databases and it's what we recognize to be that of the Shie Hassaikai. We have reason to believe your husband may have been formerly involved with this elusive yakuza clan. But we can't say for sure with his affiliation to The League. There may have been interference, or more than one affiliate, for the matter..."

Bakugou stiffens at the name. He lowers to sit on the stairs with Izuku leaning into him. He's not even muttering. Just sitting there and squeezing his arm to the point of bruising. He did this to Izuku. He caused them this overwrought nightmare-turned-reality.

"Miss Inko," the finality in Toshinori's voice lifted well into the air, the airs of his former youth surrounding his conviction. "When you came to me for help, I never would have imagined this... I will not stop until I find the sick monster who did this. I will personally see this case close with the bastard under my foot, at your mercy. You have my word. This scum will be behind bars." Izuku breath hitches weakly at the promise.

He feels faint. His favorite hero, the only respectable figure he looked up to his whole life, the man he aspired to emulate, who imbued his victorious spirit into him for as long as he remembered, thought he was scum belonging beneath his heel.

Sick. He's sick. A monster. How can he bear to exist knowing that he did this? How low will he stoop? How far will he take this until he's eventually found out?

The words resonate through his hollow mind.

"We would like permission to do a forensic analysis of the basement. You mentioned it was left in disarray?"

"Yes," Inko tells him wetly, "H-He has a room where he used to see patients, as well-- everything's just as he left it-- but I need som-some time t-to... wrap my head around all this..."

Bakugou doesn't know why he's on the verge of tears like he's already been caught. He doesn't move when he hears chairs drag against the floor (neither does Izuku).

"If you like, we can later discuss living arrangements when the time comes to scour the house for any more leads..." Their voices get louder as they walk to the front door beyond the living room, unaware of their presence at the foot of the stairs where they're slumped, holding onto each other.

Inko's shaking as she closes the door behind her, bloodshot eyes finally noticing the pair and she rushes to them, cupping Izuku's face in her hands.

"I-Izukun... I'm so sorry, baby. I--" She wraps her arms behind Katsuku and pulls the both of them into an unrelenting embrace. With a litany of apologies, mother and son wallow together. Katsuki can't breathe. He never wanted to die more than he did now.

"I'm sorry, Katsuki," Inko warbles in another inseparable thought. "Y-you need to go home early tonight. Neither of y-you w-were supposed to find out like this."

All he hears is You need to go home.

He simply left without fanfare. Bakugou wanders without direction, without his belongings, too frantic and disoriented at that time to consider having to see the Midoriyas again. He barely recognizes the familiar houses of his suburb the closer he gets to his house. His mother will bitch at him about leaving his weekend assignments so close to the end of term, but it didn't matter. None of it did. He's going to waste himself away until they eventually trace the evidence back to the foot of his bed. And they'll see him for what he truly is.

His heart rate picks up exponentially when he turns the corner of the street.

A discreet black van is neatly parked in his driveway alongside his mother's sedan. Everything was happening all at once, he's panicking.

His veins feel set to burst.

Chapter Text

His haste to the door, against his better wishes, was short-lived. If Detective Toshinori had known this, then so did the clan. It couldn't be a coincidence that of all the times they could have shown themselves had to be now, when his heart is aching and flames are licking up his veins. He can't imagine how pissed she'll be if they've let slip anything.

He's bracing himself for a beating. It shouldn't be any more different than the other times he's felt his mother's rage, he knows this.

By the way his hand barely hovers above the door handle in the stifling silence quickens his pulse to the point of throbbing in his ears.

He can take it. He always has. 

Yet he wonders what can happen. His father had always been there to keep her tame whenever he incurred any of her discipline. He thinks he'd rather take the beating than let his father be witness to the shame he's brought them, so he's thankful he's still working.

In his loathing to unlock the door he realizes he left his keys... With the Midoriyas'. He tries to breathe deep and tests the lock (shit, what was the point of that, of course it's fucking locked). His mother plays this game every time the school phones home about another fight; he grips the metal. She wants to be there the very moment he steps through the doorway. It's a power move. She wants to make him feel small and nothing all at once somehow. And this is how she does it. Waiting patiently for him to eventually drag his feet up to the doormat, hearing the moment he concedes to finally knock and incur her wrath with just the mere sight of him.

No matter how many times this repeats, the feeling of his shaking legs tells him this time will be different.

Sometimes he'll wait for days to come home, so she'll be lucid enough to make sure she bruises him where no one can see.

Do your worse, maybe I deserve it, he thinks bitterly to himself the moment the door opens.

He wasn't expecting to be greeted by Overhaul, but instead of that birdlike mask he was familiar with, a simple black face mask covers the lower half of his face. Bakugou takes notice of a scar nicked right above his left eyebrow and how he's pressed in a crisp black suit.

"A certain conference is in order, little brother," he tells him.

"Why? You hear something you didn't like?" His cold stare melts into intrigue. 

"Believe me, you and I both wonder, but your mother is surprisingly not as cooperative as you are." His eyes widen from the shock. What the fuck does that mean?

Bakugou walks into a dead quiet blanketing his house. The shades are still drawn, his eyes seeing static until they adjust to the contrast as they enter the living room. The back of his mother's head catapults his nerves to the brink. He can take this. It can't hurt more than the look he remembers in Izuku's eyes. He feels mechanical in the way he sits down, his limbs locking at the weight of Overhaul joining him in the seat across Mitsuki.

"Son," she greets him levelly. "As pleasant as it was to acquaint myself with Chisaki-san-"

"Chisaki, please," Overhaul insists.

The smile on his mother's face is slight as she faces Bakugou again.

"Can you please explain to me why this stranger is willing to buy our silence from us?" 

His insides twist, but he clicks his mouth shut, grinding his teeth in an effort to not explode, confused and unable to read her smile.

"I'm sorry, Bakugou-san, I may have given you the wrong impression," Overhaul (Chisaki?) pulls an envelope from his breast pocket. It's tightly packed from the way the paper distends at the seal. "This isn't to bribe you, in any way. Bakugou is a bright student, and shows much promise, if it weren't for that soiled attitude of his. It's a shame that for coming from a family of dignified, driven talents, he can't bother to correct himself, work harder. He will never come close to upholding the Bakugou name with that disciplinary track of his."

"Unless he were to have me vouch for his acceptance into U.A...."

"What is your relevance to my son, Chisaki?" Mitsuki's voice is dripping with exaggerated interest. 

"With his competitive streak and excessive records of outstanding academia, I can bring him to heights unmanageable," he chooses to say instead.

"On what constraint?" She fires back, not fooled for a moment, despite the tempting proposal.

"I'm glad that you asked." Chisaki's eyes crinkle from a hidden smile as he pulls the envelope apart, sliding a document and a pen across the table between them. Bakugou can't stop staring at the thick frill of bills stuffed inside it as well. 

"An exchange of equivalent value. I bring prestige and renown to your family, all that needs to be done-"

"I don't want it," She snarls, clawing the armrest. "I have no desire to read that. I'm well aware of your relations and who you might be, trying to squeeze information from me. You can toss me all your flashy promises to progress your agenda however you please, but I'm here to tell you this household will have nothing to do with you. Yakuza never give for free, and I will owe you not one yen. You can cover up whatever disgrace my shameless son drags behind him, because he won't be able to hide it here. Keep him."

Bakugou feels her venom spit in his direction. She didn't look at him.

"You want to put your hands on him, don't you," Overhaul says lowly, unfazed by her outburst. Bakugou rounds on him, disbelieving. "He brings nothing but failure after horrendous failure no matter how tightly you pull the leash. Almost as if you couldn't beat it into his body if you tried, and I'm sure you have."

"I believe you overstayed your welcome," she says resolutely, but the way she faced him as she said it made Bakugou numb. "I would enjoy a moment with my son before you take him with you."

Overhaul bows in a formal farewell before collecting the envelope, but making a subtle show of leaving the money behind.

Bakugou steels himself at the fistfuls of hair Mitsuki yanks, blazing bellicose meeting his eyes. Her grip on his hair does not lighten when she shakes him in a jarring rage that almost makes him wet himself from a dormant fear he hadn't felt in a long time.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE," she spits in his face when the force of angry tears blinds him. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS FAMILY, BAKUGOU KATSUKI, EH?"

Of all the times his mother would hit him, he never thought he would feel her fist collide with the curve of his cheek. The impact turns his head and his vision is swimming.

He didn't think she could still make it hurt at thirteen. Maybe she had been holding back all this time.

Maybe it had nothing to do with her pulling her punches. 

"YOU'RE NO ONE TO THIS FAMILY. NEVER COME BACK. NEVER THINK OF US WHEN YOU BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW YOU'VE HUMILIATED US," she holds his face close, until her abasement of him was all he could see.

She drops him to the ground and stomps away, out of his sight

He's terrified. She couldn't be serious. 

"'Kaasan?" Bakugou cries out, slurring from the ache unfurling white-hot in his mouth, his voice hoarse, still reeling from the agony drowning him, pooling to consume him to the point where it's getting difficult to breathe.  

He's choking on his saliva, the seizing in his chest so involuntary and distressing he can't follow his mind screaming at him to flee. But from what he's learned he feels like he'll make things worse if he tries to get away. He can hear her rampaging in the other room. Destroying his things. Things he worked so hard to acquire. Countless weekends scrounging up his own money with odd jobs in the neighborhood because she didn't want to waste hers paying for frivolous distractions. They were well off, but Bakugou always wanted to earn his possessions. He never wanted for anything until he put it in his own hands. She didn't care what he had to do to earn those things. She took all that effort and crushed it in an instant. There would be no consequence to what she's done. He couldn't scream loud enough for how unfair this was.

The sound of her quick pacing grew exponentially louder until he feels pain curling him into himself, helpless. Unable to fight back.

"'KAASAN," he wants her to stop, to just let him leave but she always has to make whatever she had to say painfully apparent. She crowds in his space, practically on top of him, aggressively forcing him into silence. He struggles to breathe when he sees the wicked intent contorting the face of a woman who was supposed to love him and protect him. He denies the betrayal curling into nausea.

"Listen because you'll only hear this once," Mitsuki seethes. He yelps when her manicured nails dig into his arms as she grabs him and brings him to his feet. "I have no son. You will never be welcomed here. I couldn't care what kind of status they swindle you into. Shit is still shit. "

He almost collapses when she lets go of him. 

He stumbles running out the door with only the clothes on his back and the bruises blooming on his skin.

For the first time in his life, Katsuki is uncertain about his future. 

For the first time in his life, he finds himself unwilling to care. Whatever budding aspirations he had has been singed to the root, amounting to nothing now that he felt a loss of purpose.

He had no one. He couldn't possibly go back to Izuku. Not with what just happened. Knowing his mother, she wouldn't bring him up. She would dismiss anyone with an excuse as to why he wasn't around.

He couldn't let anyone know his shame. 

It's deep into the evening. He's curled up on a lonely bench downtown, licking his wounds, feeling cold mist seep into his bones. He wishes he had dinner at the Midoriyas'. He wishes he had a warm bed to sink into.

He wishes he had a moment longer. The false sense of safety would have been better than this.

He hears the slow crawl of a vehicle pulling up in front of him, and for the first time as someone approaches his vulnerable form, Katsuki doesn't care about what happens to him.

For a moment the rain stops and the bright streetlight is eclipsed by an umbrella. 

Overhaul looms over him, face expressionless because of that stupid fucking mask.

"I followed you all the way down here, the worst part of town. Are you trying to make yourself disappear, little brother?"

"I wish I did," his voice trembles, bloodshot eyes blearing from threatening tears. "I wish you killed me, too..."

Overhaul stares, seemingly unmoved by the words.

"Your life belongs to me. Now, why would I do that?" He responds matter-of-factly. 

"Dying would feel better than this," he can't stop bawling. He feels gloved hands snake around his throat and constrict. All Katsuki can do is gag as much as he wants to scream when the man above him bears down on him.

"You seem afraid," the older man doesn't struggle with his thrashing, grip getting tighter, completely nonplussed. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"St-" It barely hisses out of him, his eyes are bulging from the pressure.

"Am I wrong?" He asks him and waits for him to say something even though he obviously can't. 

When he feels the edges of his vision fade into stars, the hands relinquish him. The first breath Katsuki takes is a strangled scream.

"YOU SICK FUCK." Spittle lets loose from his choking and he's never felt the want to maim-

"Ah, there he is," Overhaul muses, absolutely unapologetic. "This is the little brother I want to see."

He's desperate to fill his lungs with air. He feels them burning from the way they violently collapsed. By the man standing in front of him, that capable of being unpredictably ruthless as he had been gentle what felt like lifetimes ago. 

Katsuki hides his face in his hands, resigned and meek to the point where it makes him want to cry again. How cowardly can he be?

"Why are you doing this to me," He doesn't feel like himself when he begs, truthfully frightened. 

"I have a new purpose for you," Overhaul simply puts it, grabbing Katsuki by the back of his school uniform and forcing him into the van. He doesn't put up a fight. He didn't think he still had it in him to hurt anymore.

Overhaul uncovers Katsuki's eyes. A nondescript living room comes into focus. It looks painfully clean, like it had been scrubbed over multiple times. The smell of cleaning products is sharp in his nose.

"The bathroom is down the hall. Get rid of the filth you brought in or I'll do it for you."

He follows him on autopilot, finding himself in the bathroom.

Overhaul doesn't trust him to be by himself. Nothing feels more humiliating than being exposed right now, showing off faded splotches of green and yellow with the fresher contusions.

His only respite is behind the curtain. Irritated eyes follow sweat and grime from the day spiraling down the drain. Nervous hands skirt over the sore spots as they try to comfort more than clean. 

When he steps out, his dirtied uniform is replaced with clothes that run too big on him, but he doesn't care. It's better than having to see his body: one giant, angry, mottled bruise.

He drags his feet in a dither to the living room, finding Overhaul scrubbing the places where he once stood, almost in a frenzy.

Overhaul already noticed him. He motions to the couch and commands him. "Sit."

He's fighting to stay awake, but the other man's presence keeps him wary. Overhaul drags a dining chair until he's right in front of him, sitting in it backwards, leaning into Katsuki's space.

"So... the cops found the body. You fucked up." The last words make the blood drain from his face. He doesn't dare to breathe.

He fucked up.

Don't they usually punish the people that mess up? He's seen some of the thugs in the compound without fingers (plural) and others with scars webbing the sides of their faces. The thought of being mutilated sends him spiraling like the dirt he washed away into the drain.

"Yet I know for an irrefutable fact that this isn't entirely your fuck up. You helped with the body, yes. You're just as complicit of it as I am. However, I was not anticipating my missing product to be found in such a filthy place... I know you've been listening around, you would be foolish not to.

I saw an officer enter the Midoriyas' household today and he didn't come out for quite a while. Not long after, you popped out like the cure I'd been looking for."

The man's eyes pinch into crescents. He can tell whenever Overhaul smiles, but it never feels right on his face. It feels hollow like a lie.

"I need names. The files we have are encrypted, names and relevant information are blacked out. That bag-of-bones will expose you, too, so you tell your big brother who he is and we'll make him disappear. Just like that, you can go back to your little friend and all is well with the world, right?"

Katsuki bristles at the thought of Overhaul putting a hit on Toshinori. He would probably take measures into his own hands. And that would be another death he was responsible for. Another death he couldn't justify to the person that matters most.

"That old man didn't say shit about himself," he's quick to lie. "But he said something about The League being involved wherever they found your product," he sneers. "Some fucking freak wanted to eat it."

"Did he say who?"

"Nah." He shakes his head. Probing eyes regard him in a silent debate.

His answer seems to satisfy whatever inquiry Overhaul had. The way he quietly drags the chair back in its place makes him feel nervous again, but when the weight of a blanket falls over Katsuki's lap, he feels inclined to relax. 

"Sleep and we'll discuss your place here. Do well enough and you might earn yourself a bed."

Chapter Text

He feels the throbbing pain the moment he wakes up. His head's splitting right down the center with a migraine so loud it couldn't possibly fit in his skull, there's dull aches in his arms and legs, the pressure he feels inside where Mitsuki kicked him is almost agonizing enough to paralyze him. Worst of all, his lip is on fire from how dry and busted it is. Seeing Overhaul watching over him as he struggles to simply lay there and bear it unnerves him.

"I was not anticipating how soon you would wake up," he has a lilt to his voice, pleasantly surprised. 'So he isn't just some monotone bastard.' "From the way I saw you limping down the road after believing you felt far enough away gave me the impression-"

"The hag's a goddamn gorilla, m'not like you," he's hot-headed enough to channel an attitude, balking up at the insinuation, already bleeding from his lip again and enraged within seconds. Overhaul didn't want to take the chance threatening her even though they both know he could've. In her prime she could've kicked the teeth right out of his shitty mouth. He still couldn't help burning up with humiliation. It's like Overhaul was chiding him for letting it happen. Katsuki seemed that weak in his eyes.

"I don't acknowledge little brothers with little use," Overhaul says, definitely amused by him.

"Your head's so far up your fucking ass." 

"Or little substance." Katsuki wants him to collide with the Sun. "Your uniform is by the door; do what you want, but doing something I won't like would be ill-advised." 

He doesn't need to be told twice to leave. After rinsing his mouth until his spit's no longer red, and feeling his swollen cheek and split lip from tenderly patting his face dry, Katsuki trudges to the genkan to dress himself. He spots his reflection in a mirror by the door and he definitely looks much worse than he feels. His classmates would definitely wonder, but this was nothing far from normal for him. 

They would only make fun of him if they knew he let his mom beat on him.

"Oh, also," Overhaul's voice reaches him from somewhere in the apartment. "do not rouse any suspicion. Or consider yourself a vagrant."

He finds himself to be the first in the classroom and his heart screams relief that he can hide his face in the nook of his arms. The cold desktop is a soothing balm for his cheek. Maybe he can sleep the day away like this. If he gets in trouble it won't affect the fact that he's going nowhere, down the path of a delinquent lowlife.

He can never respect himself where he's going.

"Yo, Bakugou!" A faceless voice greets, but he pretends not to hear it. The silence is welcomed as other voices enter and the extras get wrapped up in each other's petty chatter. Plans for the upcoming summer and schools they consider applying to. Katsuki can't will himself to care for any of it. It wasn't that long ago that he was looking forward to a well-needed break like the rest of them and he mourns for the careless naivety of his world as he had known it. Beyond the line he's crossed is the rest of the world, limitlessly uncertain and real.

Although nothing felt real anymore. 

He must've dozed off; he startles awake at chairs scraping along the floor and stands with the rest of the class to vocally greet their homeroom teacher, who snidely remarks on his disheveled state. He pointedly ignores the stares as he glares to the side. 

Izuku's seat is empty.

What did he expect? He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or letdown in his own mind. 

The girl seated in front of him lightly taps him awake to pass back papers not too long after. They have to submit their schools of choice or their post-graduation plans before the start of the second term; he has all of this summer to put some bullshit goal in the administration's hands. Before the teacher leaves, he hands Katsuki an extra sheet, and he shoves it into his pocket. 

Throughout the day, he finds himself either half-asleep or copying notes into Izuku's notebooks when he learns something neither had known already, focuses on the parts he knows Izuku is struggling with. He's surprised at how detailed the notes already are, answering the stupid little speech bubbles of questions Izuku wrote to himself in the margins with his own snarky scrawl. His peers seem to take the hint that he wasn't in a social mood, the drone of learning a welcomed distraction until the bell signals for lunch. 

"Bakugou, you're needed in the faculty office," an aide tells him on his way out, putting him on edge.

He doesn't know what's worse when he steps into the office.

"Kacchan!"

Seeing Izuku running into him with his uniform jacket and backpack weary eyed, but relieved.

Or seeing Detective Toshinori over Izuku's head, standing beside Inko. How they're watching him, taking note on the state of his appearance.

"Young Bakugou," he greets. "I know you weren't expecting to see me so soon."

His breath's punched out of him. He doesn't know what to do as Izuku continues to hesitate reaching out to him. He's doing too much to school his expression and it panics him that Izuku can see it.

"Are you okay?" He knows Izuku is taking in his face, his bruises, and bloodshot eyes. But he wasn't any better himself. His own eyes red and swimming with tears or lack of sleep, Katsuki doesn't know.

"You should see the other guy," he lies easily, his smirk slight and fleeting. Izuku's gaze lingers on him and Katsuki holds it, his tongue worrying at the split in his mouth from the nerves, waiting to be believed.

"I brought your things. I thought it was unfair that you didn't have your stuff when you left..." He watches Izuku clutch at his backpack tighter as he hands it to him. 

"Don't worry about it," he tries to force it out, but when Izuku starts to shake, it constricts the air from him.

Inko pulls him away, not before saying goodbye to them both, leaving him vulnerable to Detective Toshinori. The fact that he's still here makes his stomach drop.

"He didn't want to stay home, poor boy, but he needs to give himself time to mourn," the detective tells him, solemn sigh sinking in his chest. "I was hoping you would be here despite what you heard."

Katsuki shuffles around on his feet, unsure of what to say yet and refusing to look away from the floor. Refusing to look at the imposing man. The office is vacated for their privacy, but he wishes it wasn't, missing all the noise. He wrings his hands, waiting for Toshinori to cite him his rights and apprehend him.

"You didn't seem much like the talking type the last I saw of you, but Inko told me a about you, young Bakugo-" His breath hitches. 

"I wish I could've done something," he hates how close the lie is to the truth, sounding every bit like Overhaul, but it comes out in a rush. "I shouldn't have brought Izuku downstairs. I had this sinking feeling that something was very wrong. But I wanted to know..."

It's hard not to keep from spiraling into how clearly the truth underlines his tone, his words. He's afraid he's going to say the wrong thing.

A heavy hand settles atop his head. He stops drifting away.

"It wouldn't have kept you boys from finding out eventually. Izuku's father seems to be deeply involved, so I'm relieved it turned out this way." He looks up to Toshinori, and sees how his eyes wander off into a thousand-mile stare. 

"Families are not unfamiliar to being targeted in a situation like this. I believe Hisashi warranted his own demise with the Shie Hassaikai."

"No shit, if he fucked with the yakuza. Play stupid games, win stupid fucking prizes." He spits before he could consider his own words.

Toshinori shifts his focus on him, and he can feel the blood leaving his face with the way the detective's eyes pin him in place.

"Bakugou, you're longtime friends with Izuku. There's a reason I came to speak to you..."

He hopes the way he tensed isn't noticed. "Oh..." He looks to the door, but tries to remain composed, the way Overhaul instructed him.

"Yes, well-" he clears his throat. "Inko and Midoriya are at a loss and were completely blindsided by this. I've come to the conclusion that they were unaware of Hisashi's affiliation to the yakuza. They've never witnessed anything out of the ordinary, but Inko did tell me about his unusual fixation with you. He apparently was very sudden and vocal about his disapproval with you and his son's friendship up until he disappeared, and it made me think."

He is bristling at how Toshinori is so comfortable letting him know this, but he's breaking it all down in front of him. It terrifies him how much he was able to glance from just that little insight. His hands ball into fists in his pockets, nails steadily digging crescents into his palms.

"You saw something," it's not a question. 

'I'm fucked.' 

"N-No, I-" He starts to feel tears cling to his lashes once he blinks them away, the anxiety prickling everywhere- Toshinori was expecting an answer.

"Bakugou," the older man surprisingly doesn't push, commands his attention just by leveling their sight. The tears become unrelenting. The genuinely warm touch makes him flinch- which makes Toshinori flinch, too. "It's okay to be afraid. You've carried the burden such a long way. You knew, didn't you?"

"He didn't seem right to me," he mentions truthfully, doing everything in his power not to look at him again. "I wasn't sure what I saw..."

"What did you see?" Katsuki freezes at the click and sees the red glow blinking from the detective's hand. "With your consent, of course, I would like to know if there was anything strange you witnessed leading up to the night Hisashi disappeared."

He didn't quite catch the last bit of Toshinori's words. His eyes were stuck to the winding cassette tape, ready to capture his testimony. Something he's certain Overhaul would eventually get his hands on, however this all unfolds. The detective eases him onto the nearest chair.

I'mfuckedi'mfuckedi'mfucked-

He understands the position he's in. He can't push Toshinori in a direction where encountering the yakuza will be imminent. He thinks back to Overhaul's promises of hitting Toshinori if he was going to become a nuisance- getting too close. Katsuki would be responsible not only for killing Izuku's father-

But for him to end All Might? The man Izuku looked up to more than his own father?

He already did something inexcusable. His soul would break from doing something unforgivable. There would be no coming back from that.

"It doesn't mean you're at fault." Toshinori tries to calm him down. "Whoever Hisashi was involved with are as elusive as they are violent and there isn't enough evidence to lead us in any direction just yet, but if you know anything..."

Overhaul said his only advantage was the narrative he could spin. No one would expect someone his age to do such the unfathomable, Toshinori included.

Katsuki can't help reminding himself that he has always applied pressure to every single thing he's ever done in his life. Whether it was his marks, sports, hobbies. This bullshit that's his life now shouldn't be an exception. He doesn't understand how he could forget how he's always taken matters into his own hands and didn't need anyone to come out on top. 

He knows what he has to do.

He lets out a slow, shaky breath. And looks up to Toshinori, nodding his head.

"I-I did see someone, but it was years ago."

"The suspect we apprehended is a tight-lipped fellow. We noticed the inmates are calling him a fitting name. Did you ever see a very pale man?" 

He shakes his head, Toshinori sighs.

"What did they call him?" He hopes he seems innocent enough.

"Moonfish." A name to ask Overhaul later, he thinks to himself.

"That guy you told auntie about- the cannibal- isn't who I saw with Hisashi. I slept over once and woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water- and he was there with him, but he told me he was doctoring one of his patients. I thought it was fucking off... I never saw him before, it was so late- I-."

Toshinori leans in, a newfound determination in his eyes. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"That's the thing..." He's not sure if he should say this, "He hid his face, but that's not what I remembered about him."

He really shouldn't.

"It was the feeling I had... when I knew he saw me..."

It felt like a devastating mistake. Like how they tell you not to whistle at night in the woods. Or else you will find something that you wouldn't have the capacity to comprehend, but in reality, that something found you, and you just know-

You won't be alive for long. 

"I feel branded just from understanding he exists in my memory," he says in all genuine honestly, arms crossed, trying to hold his composure. "Like a bullseye was put on my back the moment I looked away."

He was nervous to say something he'd never mentioned to Overhaul prior to this, but if Toshinori can find out who this man is... He could probably find out what kind of mess Hisashi was in to drag his loving family into it.

"Bakugou... I understand why you kept it to yourself. There is a man that no one has ever seen. He's only known from rumors. And the only reason he's known is for the same reason the League of Villains exists. He--"

Toshinori cut himself off before he could say anything else, remembering he was holding a formal interrogation. 

"I apologize, this can help progress our investigation just a bit further. Thank you." The detective sounds shaken up, and Katsuki has no doubt in his mind that Overhaul would know anyone from the League. They're rivaling gangs, tradition and order against a new-coming crime syndicate. He would be pleased to hear any of this, he thinks distastefully.

He finally feels the weight off his shoulders when Toshinori stops the tape.

"I'm starting to understand why you're Izuku's friend, Bakugou. It's not easy keeping such a heavy secret for the sake of your friend's safety. You wanted to protect him. Even if it meant hiding something like that from both of the Midoriyas."

Katsuki feels the detective's hand on his head before he realizes what's happening.

"Don't talk to me like that," he swats away Toshinori's hand. "Like- Like you know what I'd do." 

"It's good that Izuku looks to you, young Bakugou. He needs a friend like you." The irrefutable honesty in Toshinori's voice is hard not to give in to. He really wants to believe that. Something tells him the detective wouldn't think so if he knew just how Hisashi was reduced to merely a severed arm in some cannibal's freezer. Call it intuition.

"Don't see how. I don't know if you were told, but m'not a very disciplined student." He's sure that his appearance is enough to say so. Eyes growing soft, Toshinori found something in the boy that Katsuki wouldn't.

"Yet you have a tenably stellar academic record to ferociously match. And many of your infractions were instigated in young Midoriya's defense," he reminds him. "You may not believe me, young Bakugou, but I was your age once. I've done a lot of protecting on and off the scene, regardless of my appearance. Many times I've had to hold my own and fight for those who couldn't. And for every fight, whether you win or lose... You can always come out ahead learning from the experience." 

He shrugs away from Toshinori's dangerously gentle hand and corny words, knowing Midoriya Inko's influence behind the touch.

"Tch, all I learn is how everything fu-freaking hurts," he grits, conscious of his lip as it cracks open again. It puts him back into a seething mood, something he's familiar with.

He doesn't meet Toshinori's eyes again, doesn't want to see the pity there waiting for him. He opts to dig into his pocket and shoves the paper into the older man's chest.

"S'for Deku. I know he needs it."

He gathers his things and walks out, trying to ignore the feel of Toshinori's stare.

Katsuki completely misses his lunch break, preferring the solitude of his empty classroom. He rests his chin on one hand, tapping the tip of his pen repeatedly against his desk with the other as he stares glumly at the shitty paper that's to determine his pointless future. There's no potential for him now- all of his vigilant studying, all the pressures of his family, has been wisped away with the wind, all for naught. He can't possibly see any kind of future but that of a delinquent: belonging to the streets and rotting there, nameless and unrecognizable. Forget what kind of dreams he's had, regardless of having any idea as to what he wanted to be. He's tempted to simply write yakuza and wishfully provoke the thug to kill him this time-

He didn't notice the trickle of extras coming through until the fingers clasping on his shoulder had him swinging back out of habit.

It was the nameless fuckhead he fought once. The one Izuku had to pry him off of. His smile's too wide to not want his shit kicked back into him after getting it beaten out of him, Katsuki concludes. 

"I see your girlfriend's not in today. Shouldn't you be consoling her through her loss?"

His patience is pulled tightly, ready to snap, and hackles raised.

Yet he's never one to lose. He's sure he can handle this emotion-wrangling shit just fine.

"My dad works at the station, right under the lead forensic," the other boy sniffs. "He told me they found only a piece of Midoriya's dad."

He's got some fucking nerve, getting everyone's attention like this.

"I dare you to finish your thought," his veins are thrumming for the most validated excuse to soak the other's tears into the dirt. 

"I'm just saying." He raises his hands, smile curled too tightly for concern. "I'm sure Midoriya's gonna need someone to comfort him. Someone who can actually hold him, y'know? With both hands."

After trying to reach the Bakugou household with no success, the administration settled for a two-day suspension as his punishment once they learned the context of his altercation.

Overhaul wasn't pleased.

He's tugging on the black tie Overhaul forced on him, thinking there wasn't a worse way to spend his Saturday.

He stares apathetically at the floral arrangements and the incense urn propped under the frame showing Hisashi's dreadful smile.

To be dragged to the bastard's wake was an overall silent affair for him. He's been schooling himself since the interrogation with Detective Toshinori, reacting a little bit less and observing more. The only faces he's seen so far are immediate family and friends, no one unrecognizable by memory.

He even saw his mother, who wouldn't acknowledge his presence.

He's kneeling beside Izuku and Inko, front and center, holding a staring match with Hisashi's squinted eyes. He catches the tail-end of conversations all around them and it's nothing good. In his pocket, he holds a generously thick black envelope in his hand tighter, courtesy of Overhaul.

Ever since the town found out the truth behind Hisashi, the Midoriyas were basically being shunned by the community. It was typical for family members of those who do unspeakable acts to be under a similar scrutiny, but it is a complete dishonor for those who live to see it. 

It makes him think of his mother, who's sitting a couple rows behind them.

Even though Inko and Izuku were completely fooled only to have their trust obliterated by someone who was supposed to protect them more than anyone else, it didn't matter.

The Midoriyas have yet to receive condolences. As if they were being reproached by their more distant acquaintances and others reluctantly following suit. It's very easy to be ostracized from fear of association. 

The priest begins the sutra and the whispers quiet down. His blood's been on an underlying simmer up to this point and he hopes it doesn't drag much longer. 

Before he knows it, he has incense in his hand and lights one for the urn. The only consolation is knowing Hisashi can't even be properly laid to rest.

He fucking deserves such.

But it doesn't give Izuku or his auntie closure...

He tries to tune out the closing sutra, when a tug on his sleeve catches him off guard. He looks to his right to find Izuku gripping the fabric of his blazer. 

"I'm... I'm grateful that you're here, Kacchan..." 

Katsuki's words are stuck in his throat when he sees Izuku try to smile, but it's not reaching his vacant, glossy eyes.

He's the reason and an audience to his best friend's suffering.

And Izuku is thanking him.

There's too much incense in the air, it's making his eyes sting. Yeah...

He looks ahead when he feels his sleeve tighten.

He's a piece of shit.

.

.

.

Like that, it's over.

Katsuki tries to dismiss the voice inside him that slips him a poisonous idea. He tries to ignore it.

He steps outside, away from the wake to clear his head. The envelope feels heavier in his hand. Money that doesn't belong to him.

He can't ignore it. He's diving deeper into an inescapable circumstance and the way out doesn't look like a choice anymore.

'Distance yourself.'

"Kacchan, wait!"

It's the only justice he can serve himself. He's convinced now.

They walked further away from the small crowd, an old route they used to take when they were little.

Izuku expects him to keep walking, so when Katsuki decides to stop short and turn back towards him, he bumps into him.

He feels shaky when he slides the envelope into Izuku's coat pocket without him noticing. Izuku is too stunned to notice at first. He knows he's been distant, but it's all he knows what to do right now. He was the one who demanded the money from Overhaul, and he couldn't avoid moments like this, where he had to maintain the façade to avoid incriminating himself or letting the guilt eat away at him. He doesn't know if this will be one of the last few times he can be close like this.

"Watch where you're going, Deku."  He pats the front of his coat.

"Huh?" Izuku feels the weight in his coat and reaches for it. "What is this?"

"My mom wanted me to give this to you and auntie," he lies through his teeth, voice mumbling. "She didn't want there to be a scene earlier."

He doesn't know what else to do but put space between them.

Deku's brows furrow as he pulls the envelope out and notices just how much is in there.

"W-Wait-" It takes a moment for him to register the amount in his head, he's gasping. Th-That's too much! We can't accept this!"

"Take it," He tells him as calmly as he can. The other boy shakes his head.

"We... We can't..." Deku is crying again and hiccups through his words. 

"Just keep it," Katsuki demands, but it falls on deaf ears. Watching him shake and refuse is making him feel way worse.

He knew it was too much, excessively so, but Katsuki sold himself. It's only right that Inko wouldn't have to work a second job for a long time. Or any job for that matter if he can make it happen. Izuku needed to take it. He wouldn't be able to handle the implications of him turning away.

"You fucking deaf? Did you forget something important? We just came out here after we lit up your Ol' Man three fucking times. At the end of the day, auntie's still got bills to pay, Deku! Just. Fucking. Keep. It."

Izuku deserves a friend.

And all he can do is throw money at him instead of being able to bring himself to even comfort him.

He's a Grade-A fucking piece of shit.

"I can't."

Izuku's mouth is pressed into a firm line.

"I swear to fucking god, Deku if you don't-"

"The money doesn't fix it," Deku mumbles. 

"The fuck d'you say-?" The blonde yells before he watches Deku's face contort into fury, and it stops him short of a crisis.

"The money," he repeats, raising his voice just as much. "Doesn't. Fix. This." 

He doesn't know what to say to Deku at this point. But it doesn't take him long. His blood is already boiling.

"You decided to grow a backbone now? Are you gonna drop out of school too, and get a day job to help your mom go through supporting your sorry ass? What happened to getting into U.A.? Now you decide your pride's on the line so you can't? Your mom won't have to worry, you selfish prick-!"

His head snaps to the side, stunned when he tastes blood. His lip had just finished healing, too.

He laughs slightly at the fucking nerve, spitting the blood out. Deku only caught him off guard and barely grazed him, but he got the point across. Although Katsuki is heavily considering kicking his ass, now's not the best time. And he knows he deserved that. 

He's not prepared by Deku's reaction to get in his face and berate him. 'That's fucking new.'

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Deku ground out. "I don't care about the fucking money! You showed up today and it's the first time I've seen you in weeks. You ghosted me and I was still able to let that go, all 'cause you showed up. I was alone with all of my thoughts, wishing you bothered to check in on me- just one time- but now you're gonna show up suddenly, throw this money in my face like it's going to make up for the fact that I needed you, and you weren't... you weren't there..." 

His voice cracks with every last word. There's still tears in his eyes. That was Deku for you. Residential crybaby.

"You think I just got the whole fucking sun shining out of my ass, don't ya? You think this has been easy on me?" He can't even tell him everything he's had to sacrifice just to be here.

"Oh, that's rich," Deku sneers. "My best friend still has his dad and can't let go of his over-inflated ego to even say, 'sorry for your loss.' Oh- but he can just throw a morsel of his family's privilege at me like a dog- like that's supposed to make me feel better. Like it makes everything okay again? You don't even fucking care what this is doing to me, but god forbid I say no to you one fucking time! If anyone's the selfish prick, it's you."

The mocking tone in Deku's voice and his scathing glare makes him think fuck where and when.

He's kicking his ass right now.

"Boys!" Voices getting nearer stop them both. His hands are burning to make contact- preferably his fist to Deku's stupid face- but he resets to his newly acquired apathetic neutral.

It's Inko and Toshinori walking briskly towards them.

He's already feeling like he overstayed his welcome.

"Deku," Katsuki emphasizes. "Auntie is the only reason why I haven't decked the absolute shit out of you yet. If you had any braincells left, you would give this envelope to your mom and say it's a gift. I don't give two shits if you have to lie, or fucking keep it to yourself and do what you need to fucking do. I can't take this back, so just... take care of her..."

Deku hesitates at the look in his eyes. There's no bite to his words anymore, his wrath extinguished with each passing word.

He's never felt so... defeated...

The word defeated never existed in Bakugou Katsuki's vocabulary. Yet he pointedly looks away when his mother and Detective Toshinori catch up to them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, mom."   
"Yeah." 

"Katsuki," Inko bows lowly to him. "Thank you for coming. Mitsuki left without you, but she told me you would find your way home. She figured to give you as much time as you needed before you leave for your mentorship."

'My what?'

Deku's stare burns straight through him while Inko looks at him so sweetly. It could give him whiplash. 

But Overhaul told him it would be like this. Anticipate the unexpected. Consistently change the narrative and remain five steps ahead.

"Yeah... I've been busy since my mom's been a real.. she's been on my case about me preparing for my... my mentorship." He says it slowly, like he's testing the lie out as he speaks. 

He knows it's bullshit, but if Inko's saying it, then-

His mother actually wants to see him.

And he's a part of some kind of mentorship? It doesn't sound right. Last time he checked, his mom wouldn't bat an eye if they found him face-first in a ditch.

"If you like, Toshinori offered to escort you home, Katsuki."

Great. 

Anything to avoid another second in front of Deku. 

Katsuki walks past him and they look at each other for the last time in a while. He sees the resentment starting to take hold in Deku's eyes.

Izuku needs a friend, but...

'It can't ever be me.'

The car ride back to his old home is silent.

He's staring out of his window watching the lights blur as they speed by, pressing himself against the door as close as he can and keeping to himself. Toshinori wants to say something, but he's still working up the wherewithal to break the silence.

It's dark enough outside now he can see his reflection in the window. He looks like shit.

"Young Bakugou... It seems that tensions are high. I see it in the both of you-" he sinks deeper into his seat, not wanting to listen. "I want you to understand what the Midoriya's are going through right now."

He hears the leather squeak from hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel.

"The captain took me off their case." 

Katsuki almost rounded back to look at him.

"They what?"

"With the way that the investigation is progressing... We're never going to find the person responsible. They won't even consider the evidence you gave me. The forensics came back with nothing after we searched their home from top to bottom. Whoever took Hisashi out made sure there wasn't anything left to find. The case is being considered closed," He can see Toshinori's hands tremble. "Just like that."

He can't think straight. 

"I really tried to fight for them," the detective is starting to choke up and he is trying, but failing to understand how this is happening right now. "They gave me this excuse that I was too close to my retirement for this. That I got too attached." His breath quivers. "Izuku has to bury what was left of his father, and I had to tell him.. I had to tell him that-"

If Toshinori is still here, Overhaul provided him a small mercy. It only lets him know that the Shie Hassaikai even have ties with the police. How far down does it all go?

"Young Bakugou, I got to learn quite enough about Izuku during my time interacting with the Midoriyas while on this case." That gets his attention. "Something in him has changed. He seems determined to learn what's become of his father, as he's been left behind with too many questions unanswered... I've been there before. Vengeance is a journey you do not return from once you seek it..."

"What the hell can he really do," he scoffs, but he can't help leaning over, hanging his head low. "It's just him. He can't do shit. He'll turn into chalk lines on the fucking ground if he even tries. Who knows if he's even gonna be here tomorrow."

It sounds like he's speaking more for himself.

"Young Bakugou, he can't be alone with this. It will eat him alive. He won't remain the same person if this consumes him. He needs you."

It's not fair that this is happening to Deku. Because he doesn't deserve this when he was the one behind it, he's convinced. He already fucked up their friendship, if it's even that anymore. The only person Deku can count on- is sitting beside him. 

"Toshinori-san, I'm not going to be reliable with my mom's bullshit expectations during the summer. Having to be in a whole ass other prefecture- what I want doesn't fucking matter. Deku needs you more than he needs me. It would mean the world to him if you stay and help him get into U.A., especially if you gave a letter of recommendation," he doesn't know why he's saying this so easily. The idea of possibly coming face-to-face with Deku again makes his gut twist. It wouldn't make sense to keep him close.

He knows Deku enough to know his dreams. It's not like he could forget U.A. being one of them. Following the footsteps of their favorite fictional-character-turned-real-life hero being the other.

Before he knows it, the car stops moving, the last of Toshinori's sniffling left to fill the silence in the car.

He sees the black van in his parents' driveway again and it reminds him of how it used to be. It reminds him why he's in this predicament to begin with.

This all started with his ties with Deku. How close their families were. And even though a lot of the things Deku would say elicited eye rolls from him, or how his personality was overbearing at times, he couldn't picture him upset. Anxious, maybe, but the way Deku watched him leave earlier made him think of that fateful day. The anger he himself felt when this all went to shit. The injustice of it, getting entangled in a gang against every fiber of his being. All he wanted was to be himself. He doesn't even know if he's still the same person anymore. 

Despite all of this, he's determined to do everything to atone for the way he's hurt him.

When he knocks on the door, he finds it already unlocked, the smell of cigarette smoke knocking him back in recoil. Not knowing what to make of it, he sees Overhaul sitting in the same spot across from Mitsuki as last time.

This time, however, there's no mask and it distracts him. Katsuki was just beginning to get use to the tells of his eyes. He wasn't expecting to ever know what the quirk of his lips would look like snagged by a smirk. The fact that both he and his mother are bearing witness to it makes him feel this is more permanent somehow.  

"Ah, Bakugou-san, welcome home." Mitsuki scoffs at Overhaul's greeting. 

His mother takes the deepest drag of the cigarette between her fingers. He sees the glass in her hands. Definitely not water when she knocks back whatever's left.

He feels like he's in the fucking Twilight Zone.

"I guess you're wondering why you're here-"

"Just fucking get to it," he talks back, already eyeing signed paperwork on the coffee table between them, the ashtray, and the crystal decanter. The lines void of any penmanship jump out at him. "The hell is this mentor shit about?"

"Exactly what you fucking think it is, brat." Mitsuki finally addresses him for the first time since, but does nothing more to engage him. 

"Your mother has signed over permanent guardianship of you for this endeavor," Overhaul fills in. "You will be joining me to take part in our mentorship program in Tokyo during your summer break. This will guarantee you a seat in UA.'s next freshman class."

"All you have to do is sign the paperwork, and then you will be on the first train to Tokyo when you're done with this semester."

"Like hell I am," he tells them out of reflex. The thought of anyone having ownership of him puts death to shame.

Mitsuki snorts into her glass. He sees disdain in her eyes when she looks at him, and hears derision in her words. 

"I don't think you're coming to understand the repercussions of your pea-brained behavior. I should've pulled you from that shithole school years ago," she tells him with drunken loathing as she pours her next drink with a heavy hand. "Maybe if I did, you would've been smart and sensible enough not to get involved with the literal devil."

"I am flattered, Bakugou-san."  He glares at Overhaul, not a single tooth of his out of place when they show in a grin. Everything about this man was uniform. Katsuki was right in knowing there was nothing genuine about the way he smiled. It reeked of doublespeak. "And I find it amusing that you believe you can still make decisions, young Bakugou. Best you sign this. Or..."

He blinked and Overhaul's face dimmed to a slight smile, but his eyes shone with intent. 

"It could be the last thing you decide not to do." 

"Tokyo, huh?" He considers his options. He's no good dead, he decides. "I'll fucking sign it- But on one condition-"

"There are no conditions, beside what's written and binding. Plus you've taken on quite some heavy loans. I think that's condition enough-"

"If I'm selling my fucking soul, the price better be right. And I'll say when it's right." 

He stands firm. Overhaul can make his face just as unreadable as he wants to even with the damn mask off.

"Fine," the older man concedes way too easily that Katsuki is already refusing before he realizes what the older man said. "One condition in exchange for laying your life to the clan."

He rounds the table from the other side of the couch Mitsuki is sitting on, reaching the pen and carving ink onto paper.

"You already gave your word on Deku's and auntie's safety. That should include anyone they consider family, including my parents. Including the cop whose investigation you sabotaged."

Overhaul's eyes narrow. "You seem to be testing my capacity to not cull such tempting loose ends. The oyabun will certainly not tolerate that."

"I already disposed your loose end-"

"Nah ah ah," Overhaul tuts. "You'll violate the NDA you signed, little brother."

He grits his teeth, but doesn't relent. 

"Nah, as a matter of fact, I want her to know everything. She's bound by the NDA, too. So tell her."

Overhaul looks at Mitsuki, reaching for the cigarette carton on the table, putting one to his lips and lighting it, sighing.

"You're going to be difficult as long as you breathe, huh." It's not so much of a question than it is a realization.

He can't help being smug, though, when he and his mother speak up at once.

"I'll shut up when I'm dead."
"He won't shut up 'til he's dead."