Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Where did you say he was found again?”

All Might’s voice, quiet, even and carefully controlled rang in the silence that had long since fallen upon the small hospital room, cutting through the haze of the tense atmosphere between them with the same ease as a heated knife. His icy blue eyes never left the hunched form standing shrouded in the dark evening shadows across from him.

Naomasa cleared his throat, the action awkward, uncomfortable, his dark gaze hard to read as he slowly shuffled through the crinkled stack of papers now clutched tightly within his hands, Toshinori not missing the way his fingers trembled as he did so, lips pursing into a thin, tense line. A look that Yagi had seen many times on his friend’s face in the past and one that never spelled out anything good for either of them. Whatever had happened to the man now lying on the medical gurney on the other side of the one-way glass must have been bad. Very bad. Toshinori could not remember the last time he’d seen his friend shaken this way, witnessed him so utterly disturbed. Idly, he had to wonder if he even wanted to know what the detective had uncovered in the course of his investigation.

“In an abandoned apartment complex, not far from the former hideout of the Shie Hassaikai. The location since then has been put on lockdown by my officers. Again. The initial search of the premises yielded little, except for the fact that the victim has most likely been held elsewhere and has only recently been moved to the apartment building in which he was found. Whether as a taunt or for some other reason - it is still unclear.”

A thoughtful hum resonated throughout the cramped, darkened space. 

“And it is your belief that the League of Villains is behind all this?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question.

Tsukauchi shot him an incredulous look.

“It would make the most sense, All Might. There were signs of the League's involvement even before the attack on the police convoy and his subsequent abduction: sightings of Jin Bubaigawara and Himiko Toga, confessions of several detained members of the organization claiming that they had partnered up with Shigaraki and his people only for the League to turn around and betray them at the last second... Whatever Chisaki had done must have been considered a grave offense to Tomura Shigaraki. His people went out of their way to ruin the yakuza's operations. So much so that they actually aided the heroes in their raid on the Shie Hassaikai headquarters, whether indirectly or not. It is not implausible or unfounded to suggest that he was also behind the attack on Chisaki’s police escort and responsible for the murder of Pro Hero Snatch. Although we are indeed looking into other leads as well. Just to cover all bases.”

A heavy sigh left the former hero’s lips, the almost disturbingly thin man bowing his head in obvious exhaustion, his long, bony fingers rubbing firm, steady and utterly tense circles into an already aching temple, blue eyes clouding in thought and what could almost be perceived as sadness. Almost.

“Has he said anything? Perhaps given some clues as to where he’s been held for the past three years?”

Naomasa slowly shook his head, his voice and expression nothing short of grim as he faced his long-time friend, the man keeping his emotions under careful control. Even so, All Might could tell just how deeply disturbed he was by the recent events, as much as he tried to hide it.

“No, unfortunately not. In fact, we’ve so far been unable to get through to him at all. Upon regaining consciousness the victim entered a highly agitated state and had to be sedated before he could bring further harm either upon himself or the people surrounding him. He’s been unconscious ever since and we have been unable to speak with him.” Naomasa didn't withhold a violent shudder, his dark eyes fixing on the taller form leaning against the barren wall across from him, voice quiet. “It was bad, Yagi. Very bad.”

Letting out a hissed breath through clenched teeth, Toshinori nodded in a silent acknowledgement of the other’s words, his blond hair cascading over the sharp lines of his sunken face, obscuring his expression and the dark look steadily replacing impassiveness. “And his injuries? What do they tell us?”

Naomasa said nothing, merely handing him the medical report in silence. A faint sense of trepidation already clawing at his insides, All Might hesitantly accepted the slightly crumpled papers after a moment’s hesitation and uncertainty, his narrowed eyes raking over the documents now clenched tightly within his hands.

The feeling of nausea overtaking him was almost instantaneous.

Old and fresh burns, most from direct contact with fire. Multiple fractures. Dislocated and broken bones, many of which had healed incorrectly and had to be rebroken before they could be properly set again. A black eye. Sprained wrists. Dark purple bruises coloring the man’s entire body, most notably his neck – a sure sign of recent strangulation. Busted lips. Nasty looking bite marks along his veins (if the League was indeed behind this these would most likely be Himiko Toga's doing). A Grade 3 concussion. Significant scarring as a result of deep cuts and in some cases even stab wounds and many, many more damages the mere sight of which would make even a seasoned pro sick.

Every injury under the sun seemed to be present here, colorfully described in paragraphs upon paragraphs of neat, clinical handwriting and gruesome photographs of Chisaki from different angles and positions, putting his grisly wounds on full display.

Toshinori did his best not to look into the other’s eyes. He already knew what he would encounter there, and the mere thought of seeing the pain and despair no doubt burning within them, festering right beneath the surface, was unbearable.

It was a look he’d seen countless times in his years as Japan’s Number One Hero. But one he’d never quite been able to get used to witnessing, no matter how hard he tried.

“How is he even alive?” All Might breathed, feeling sick as he gazed at the gruesome image of Chisaki lying on his side, dark blue bruises and crimson burns coloring his unnaturally, deathly pale skin, the sharp outlines of his ribs jutting out and clearly visible even with the grainy quality of the small photograph, the bones seemingly on the verge of poking right through. There were very few instances Yagi could recall during which he’d encountered this level of malnourishment. Clearly the League hadn’t bothered to properly feed or take care of their captive, only giving him the bare minimum to keep him alive. If even that.

Naomasa looked away.

“He was on the verge of death when we found him, actually. It was clear he'd been abandoned for some time. Had our officers not been so quick to respond, we most certainly wouldn’t have made it in time. We would've lost him.”

“Death would’ve probably been more preferable… been a more merciful outcome. Given his state.”

Tsukauchi shot him a sharp look, his dark eyes questioning and crinkling in barely noticeable concern as they scanned All Might’s face, the blond man studiously avoiding the other’s searching gaze. When the other finally spoke up, his voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“I believe Overhaul would agree with that sentiment. Yes.”

Yagi shook his head, forcefully tearing his icy gaze away from the glass window and the frail, skeleton-like figure lying upon a hospital bed just beyond it, looking heartbreakingly small beneath the thick blankets and only vaguely resembling the criminal who had murdered one of his closest friends during a police raid over three years ago now. 

“Keep me posted on what you find out.”

Naomasa nodded in agreement.

"Of course."

“And all the fruits of your labor belong to me. Now you don’t even have a thumb to suck on!”

Crimson eyes bore into him from above, that scarred, seemingly lipless mouth pulled into a jagged, horrifically misshapen and sadistic grin. Despair washed over him whole, taking hold of his cracking soul, an odd, high-pitched ringing filling his ears as he helplessly stared up at the gloating man, no, creature now towering over him, unable to think, unable to focus on anything over than his own failure. He didn’t even notice as the restraints strapped tightly around him were disintegrated into nothing. Didn’t protest or care to struggle as he was rudely hauled to his feet, Dabi none too gentle as he threw the beaten yakuza over a broad shoulder, the palm of his hand hot and threatening against the small of Chisaki’s back, warning him not to do anything stupid. Not that he had any presence of mind left to do so. No. All he could really focus on now was the realization slamming into him like a truck, the sheer sense of failure, of defeat sinking deep into his very being, slowly taking over his mind.

Pops’ face, so proud, so utterly pleased, flashed before his eyes.

He had failed.

The scream tore itself from his throat unbidden, against his wishes, the heartbreaking, broken sound echoing down the deserted and cracked street filled with burning and smoking rubble, roaring, monstrous laughter following closely at its heels. It took him several moments to realize to whom it belonged, what they were laughing at as hives broke out over every inch of his pale and sweaty skin, anguish steadily wrapping its icy claws around his frantically beating heart.

They were laughing at him.

“You’re doomed to watch from the sidelines as your dream falls apart!”

Everything he had done up to this moment, everything he had so viciously, so tenaciously striven toward, everything he’d shed blood, sweat and tears for… Everything was for nothing. All of it was gone. His work? Stolen. His quirk? Gone. The Eight Precepts of Death? Incarcerated, if not dead, and no longer of any use to him. The Shie Hassaikai? Effectively disbanded, destroyed. Eri’s power? In the hands of a naïve, diseased boy, contaminated by the hero sickness he had sought so desperately to cure. And Pops… Pops was now stuck in a coma he would never wake from, one that he had put him into, the man doomed to live out his remaining years in an endless dream that no one would be able to get him out of without Chisaki’s expertise.

“Let’s do our best!”

He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped screaming. Wasn’t sure when he’d finally given up on his pointless struggles against Dabi’s strong hold, his exhaustion from the recent battle finally catching up to him. Was barely aware of the pain and the sharp grunt that left his lips as he was unceremoniously thrown onto the cold metal floor of the truck the League of Villains had no doubt hijacked a while ago, Dabi briefly sneering down at his collapsed form before turning away and slamming his burnt hand against the stained wall several times, causing pain to radiate through Chisaki’s skull at the raucous noise and telling Spinner to “gun it”. Vibrations travelled through the smooth metal surface beneath his body almost immediately as the vehicle finally budged from its spot and gradually picked up speed, whisking him away from the scene of the crime and taking him to his new, dark fate. But he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it. Couldn’t gather himself enough to analyze his current situation and figure out a way to escape. He knew on a subconscious level that his best hope of getting away was during transit and that the second he stepped foot into their base he would be done for, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to move. Couldn’t force himself to react. Couldn’t bring himself to even care. What was there left for him to struggle for? He had nothing left to him now. Nothing but the weight of his own failure on his shoulders, the utter shame and humiliation. 

His body no longer listening to his commands, heavy, ragged breaths escaping his heaving chest in shallow gasps for stale air he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get, Chisaki shuddered where he lay upon the vibrating floor of the League truck, the sounds of the vehicle surrounding him mercifully covering up the sounds of his agonized keens. His eyes burned as they filled with an already familiar wetness and he clenched them tightly shut, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over his face through sheer force of will. Whatever was left of it, that is. 

“Awww, is the big bad yakuza crying already? But we haven’t even done anything yet~.” Toga whined somewhere above him, her annoying, high-pitched voice sing-song and mocking, sending shivers running down Overhaul’s spine. He couldn’t stop himself from cringing away as deceptively gentle fingertips brushed against his cheek, a soft thumb swiping in an arc over his pale skin and wiping away the tears he’d so desperately tried to conceal from these sadists, the girl completely disregarding the hives that broke out from her unwanted touch. A sound horrifically akin to a purr left the teenager’s lips. “Come now, open up those pretty eyes of yours. We want to see you cry for what you did to Big Sis Mags.”

Mags? For a split second he was confused. He couldn’t recall having met anyone with such a name. But the way Toga said it was angry, bitter. Telling him that it was somehow important. That he was supposed to know this person. That League member perhaps? The one he had…

A sharp pain suddenly shot up his spine and Chisaki arched in a silent scream as a steel-ended boot struck viciously into the small of his back with just enough force to cause excruciating hurt without breaking any bones, his eyes flying open of their own volition, vision blurry with the onslaught of tears he was no longer able to hold back.

“C’mon you stupid fuck, follow the girl’s orders, she asked you so nicely.” A gravelly voice rasped from somewhere behind him and Overhaul forced himself to look up, struggling to blink back tears of pain, humiliation and despair, golden eyes meeting startling turquoise. On the other side of him Toga laughed.

“Man, you’re already bawling, huh? Somehow I had a feeling you would turn out to be a crybaby. Beneath that tough exterior of yours.”

Another bout of laughter travelled through the throng of gathered villains surrounding him, someone (Chisaki could no longer tell who) kicking the beaten yakuza viciously in the ribs, wringing yet another agonized sound from the man’s bruised lips, his body already sore and aching from the battle he'd recently had with Toogata and Midoriya and Dabi's blow earlier. 

“Leave him be.” Shigaraki’s mildly irritated voice sounded from the other side of the cramped space, barely discernible over the roaring sounds of truck engines and the intense ringing once again assaulting Chisaki’s hearing. “There will be plenty of time to have fun with him later. Knock him out before he can make a fuss and get a bunch of NPCs on our tail. We don’t want to make a detour, after all.”

Dabi’s form, terribly scarred and horrifying, slowly swam into view as the pyromaniac came up to tower over him once more, a crooked grin stretching across his repulsive face in a jagged line as Overhaul instinctively cringed away from him in revulsion, blue eyes, alight with insanity and uncontained sadism, boring into the yakuza’s terrified golden ones. “Lights out, Princess.”

And before he could so much as protest – everything went dark.

“You want to… what?” 

Aizawa’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

All Might withheld a wince, shifting uncomfortably in his plastic seat.

Nothing good had ever come out of that tone. Ever. Aizawa rarely showed his emotions, much less anger, but when he did, it was with an iciness that shook even the most stoic of Pros to their very cores.

Nezu seemed to catch onto the underground hero's simmering anger well enough as well, if the way he sharply leaned back in his seat was anything to go by, his paws stapling together in front of him, small, black eyes boring into the man’s equally dark ones.

“It is the wish of the police that we keep Kai Chisaki, also known as ‘Overhaul’, in our custody until the investigation into the League of Villains has been concluded and all the villains have been apprehended.”

Aizawa’s gaze somehow darkened even more as it became increasingly clear that he hadn’t misheard the principal in the first place after all, his fingers clenching tighter around his arms in a white knuckled grip. Beside him, the other teachers seemed to be faring little better, anger and disgust in various degrees clear upon their faces as they shared quick looks amongst themselves. As if wondering if this was some sick, twisted and utterly tasteless joke.

Surprisingly it was Midnight who found her voice first.

“Let me get this straight…” She began, her tone even, but her eyes glistening with tightly controlled anger as she addressed the tiny form sitting at the head of the wooden table, arms crossing tightly over her scantily clad chest. “We are a high school. Most of our students are between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, and they want us to keep a known felon on the premises? And not just any felon for that matter, but the one who abused a little girl barely older than six, killed a well known Pro Hero and left one of our most promising students quirkless? Are they insane?! What the hell were they thinking demanding such a thing?!” 

A murmur of assent travelled through the gathered heroes, Snipe and Vlad King sharing another, unhappy look, the latter leaning back in his seat in a huff, fury evident in every line of his muscular form and fingers tapping a restless rhythm into the smooth surface of the wooden table, his eyes boring holes into the tiny form of UA’s principal. 

Nezu breathed a heavy sigh at the visible and yet understandable displeasure that had fallen upon the school faculty seated before him, his eyes falling to his clasped paws, expression clearly unhappy despite his animalistic features that would normally make him exceedingly difficult for others to read.

“Please believe me when I say this, Miss Midnight, but I am not happy about this arrangement either," he said after a pregnant pause, his tone lacking its usual cheerfulness, “But I’m afraid I had no choice. The League of Villains is still at large and must be apprehended, and since this is the first and by far only lead to their whereabouts that we’ve managed to secure in the last three years we cannot afford to be too careless. Tartarus, while having a good track record of keeping its prisoners from escaping, is still regrettably not immune to bribery and infiltration. With the vast connections the League has undoubtedly acquired over the years, it would only be too easy for them to pay off a guard to do away with Kai Chisaki before he can divulge sensitive information. If that happens, we will have lost a valuable asset. UA is the next safest option as it is the second most secure location in the city, brimming with some of the finest heroes this country has to offer who will be more than capable of keeping one prisoner in line."

"Furthermore, Tartarus isn’t known to be… particularly mindful of its prisoners’ wellbeing.” At this Nezu didn’t withhold a grimace, his beady eyes fixing meaningfully upon each teacher in turn. “As you all undoubtedly know from the reports I’ve distributed among you before the meeting began, Kai Chisaki is far from stable, both physically and mentally. We need to get him talking as soon as possible and that simply isn’t feasible if he is at death’s door as well as a raving lunatic. The best course of action is to provide him with a comfortable, safe environment in which he will not only be given the opportunity to heal from his serious injuries, but perhaps even lower his guard enough to tell us everything he knows about the League, its operations and current whereabouts. I’ve already arranged with Recovery Girl to set up a secluded ward specifically for this purpose. It will be heavily monitored and guarded at all times, preventing him from escaping or causing harm to the students all the while serving as a safe haven that he currently desperately needs.”

“And what about his quirk?” Ectoplasm spoke up for the first time in the duration of the entire meeting, his white, pupilless eyes never leaving Nezu’s own. “From what the reports say his quirk is ‘Overhaul’, the ability to dismantle and reassemble anything he touches. With a power like that, he could easily destroy this school and slaughter everyone in it before we are able to get to him, quirk preventing restraints or not. What would stop him from going on a rampage and escaping the first chance he gets? Vigilant as we will undoubtedly be in keeping tabs on him, we are only human and mistakes are bound to be made. The fact remains that our first responsibility is to care for our students. Keeping a known criminal on the grounds is us directly and needlessly putting them in danger. And if the parents or the media get wind of this… UA's reputation will take a terrible hit. Again.”

The other teachers nodded in silent agreement at those words, a low murmur travelling through the gathered throng once more, several questioning gazes turning towards the stoic form of the UA principal. Nezu, to their collective surprise, did not back down. 

“I do not believe there is any need for concern of him using his quirk. Even if he somehow managed to remove the restraints, he wouldn't be able to utilize his powers. Not in his current state anyway."

That instantly grasped the attention of every teacher in the room, Aizawa shooting the man a sharp look over the folds of his white scarf and Midnight frowning in palpable confusion, sharing a look with her equally befuddled colleagues. Only All Might didn’t seem to be shocked by the sudden declaration, his icy blue eyes clouding over in what could almost be called sorrow and sympathy.

“What do you mean by that?” Vlad King grunted at last, his voice no more than a low growl.

Nezu sighed. “What I mean by that is that Kai Chisaki no longer has access to his quirk.”

Silence fell upon the gathered heroes, several faculty members sharing shocked looks before turning back to the Principal, waiting, demanding some sort of elaboration. Nezu took a long sip from the teacup in front of him. 

“When Kai Chisaki awoke for the first time in the Musutafu Villain Hospital after his rescue, he was understandably confused and highly distressed by the sudden change in surroundings. So much so that he attempted to lash out at the surrounding doctors tending to his injuries and heroes standing guard. However, when he attempted to call upon his quirk in order to fend off what he perceived to be his attackers, nothing happened, giving the heroes on the scene enough time to restrain and sedate him. The hospital has carried out several tests since then to ascertain if his quirk had been tampered with. Whether it was artificially suppressed for a short period of time, or removed altogether, given that we know for certain that the Shie Hassaikai finished their research into quirk erasing bullets. The tests all came back negative, indicating that there was nothing physically wrong with Kai Chisaki and his ability to utilize his powers. Which only left us with one option, a condition that is very rare in modern society, but was quite common in the early days when quirks were first surfacing within the populace. All Might.”

The blond man nodded as Nezu gestured for him to continue, his fingers lacing together upon the smooth surface of the wooden table as he turned to face his colleagues, voice and expression grim. “Until we have evidence that says otherwise, it is our belief that he is subconsciously suppressing his own quirk, preventing himself from using it.”

“WHAT?!” Present Mic shouted, springing from his seat and the gathered teachers collectively grimaced at the deafening sound, Aizawa glaring at his friend from the corner of his eyes, hurriedly and irately gesturing for him to shut up and return to his seat. Mercifully, the man obliged. “That isn’t possible.”

All Might remained steadfast.

“It is. Back when quirks were not widespread and publicly accepted it wasn’t uncommon for people to forcefully suppress their own abilities in order to better fit in with society and avoid discrimination. Not all were successful, of course, such as those with mutation quirks for whom it was simply impossible to conceal their condition, but those who could would learn to psychologically lock off their abilities over time, stopping themselves from making use of their abilities even when they were forced to call upon them. It is our belief that the same might have happened to Kai Chisaki. With no physical cause for his disability, it is the only possible explanation we currently have. To our knowledge, he has spent three years held captive by the League of Villains, most likely as revenge for what happened to Kenji Hikiishi, more commonly known as Magne, who we now have reason to believe was murdered by Overhaul himself. It is possible that the League required some means of keeping him under control. It isn’t difficult to imagine that with careful conditioning and a lot of pain Chisaki began to unknowingly suppress his own abilities in order to protect himself from further punishment, forging a psychological barrier and locking his powers away in an effort to appease his captors and make himself less of a target for their rage. Although, judging by the sheer severity of his injuries, that strategy did not work out in his favor at all.”

A shocked silence followed the former hero’s words, the gathered teachers sharing startled glances, the majority looking sickened by the news. Forcing someone to suppress their own abilities? It was vile. Cruel. Unheard of. Even for criminals. The League of Villains had certainly reached a new low, something that each of them had thought impossible. Just what had Overhaul been forced to go through?

“Is it… possible for him to regain it?” Aizawa asked at last, his voice unusually quiet. “If he were to regain his confidence, find a way to lift the psychological barrier… he could still very well pose a threat to this school and its students, just like Ectoplasm mentioned.”

All Might slowly shook his head, the look in his blue eyes one of exhaustion. “No. It is unlikely that he will ever regain it. Even if he does try it’s a long and oftentimes painful process, filled with endless disappointments and despair. Few managed to recover their abilities after locking them away, and with the condition Chisaki is in after his captivity… I do not think there’s any hope of him making a full recovery. Physically or mentally.”

The meeting concluded in silence.

His arms hurt. 

That was by far the first thing he was aware of.

Pain, white, hot and agonizing, radiated up his arms, liquid fire travelling through his thin veins and he could not stifle the pained groan that instantly rose in his throat if he tried, his teeth clenching together as he hissed under his breath and tried to push himself up from what he presumed to be the floor with his hands, tried to sit up in a kneeling position - only to almost immediately collapse back down on the unyielding stone ground beneath him, a deafening, strangled scream of pure agony escaping his suddenly heaving chest. 

What the hell?! Why did his arms hurt so much?! Why couldn’t he feel his fingers?! Had they sustained too much damage?! Had he really been injured so badly?! But… when? How? He’d never been hurt this bad before. Why hadn’t he restored himself yet? Had he really been knocked unconscious before he could do so?! 

His thoughts running a mile a minute, the memories of the last twenty-four hours flashed before his eyes as he finally managed to force himself upright, his narrow chest heaving in shallow, pain filled and terrified gasps as an acute sense of horror overtook his entire body in an instant, panic and anger following closely at its heels.

No… this… this couldn’t be happening. Simply couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be true! He had never lost to anyone! That foolish, naïve little boy could not have possibly beaten him! And Shigaraki… Shigaraki couldn’t have…

His golden eyes snapping open at last, he stared down at the uneven, crudely bandaged stumps that had used to be his arms not so long ago in mounting horror, faint tremors starting to travel through his hunched form as bile rose quickly in his throat, Chisaki just barely keeping it down with a heavy swallow. 

No, this… This couldn’t be possible. No, no, no!

“Oh, finally awake, Princess? And here we were starting to get worried.”

The frightfully familiar dry rasp came from somewhere above him, and Overhaul forcefully tore his panicked, wide-eyed gaze from his now useless stumps of arms, his bright golden eyes squinting in the oppressive darkness of whatever room he had been so carelessly thrown into, trying to make out the lanky, threatening form now towering over him not unlike a predator cornering its prey, blocking out the only source of light.

A wolfish, crooked grin spread across Dabi’s face, turquoise eyes narrowing into tiny, amused slits.

“Let’s get talking, shall we?”

A heavily scarred and burned hand reached out in his direction and Overhaul immediately lurched away from the unwanted contact, his trembling legs pushing against the slippery ground of whatever basement he’d no doubt been thrown into as he clumsily scrambled away from the other’s threatening touch, movements uncoordinated and clumsy without the additional aid of his now missing hands. 

Golden eyes flashed in the darkness in pure, uncontrollable rage.

“Don’t touch me!”

Dabi, to his credit, didn’t appear to be at all phased by the blatant aggression. Instead, the LoV member seemed to be almost amused by his captive’s obvious fury, seemed entertained by his continued defiance, the pitiful remains of his lips quirking upwards into that unpleasant lazy grin Overhaul had already learned to dearly loath with all his heart, a low chuckle echoing throughout the cramped space. Though when the man finally spoke up again there was an undeniable edge to his voice, a silent warning that even someone as arrogant as the beaten yakuza could easily pick up on. “N’aww, don’t be like that, love. I’m just here to take a look at those arms of yours. Wouldn’t want them to get infected or for you to bleed out on us now, would we? All that thrashing must have reopened those wounds of yours, hadn’t it?”

It had. As much as Chisaki hated to admit it, the second-rate villain was absolutely correct in his quick assessment of his condition. Even in his currently feverish and panicked state Overhaul could feel the wetness steadily soaking up the bandages wrapped messily around his stumps, fat, crimson drops of his own blood splattering against his legs, staining his already ruined suit.

Chisaki couldn't stop himself from grimacing if he tried.

Filthy.

But the filth was by far the least of his problems at this moment. Now that he took a few seconds to analyze his own condition, it was obvious that he wasn’t faring as well as he’d assumed at first. Judging by how quickly he was currently breathing despite having exerted so little energy, the sudden lightheadedness and fatigue sinking into his very bones and a multitude of other all too familiar symptoms making themselves known, the more clinical part of him quickly came to the conclusion that he was already suffering from a significant amount of blood loss. And that amount was growing steadily by the minute the longer he sat there, refusing to accept the filthy villain’s questionable help. If he kept this up, he would eventually bleed out and die. There were simply no two ways about it.

His eyes momentarily slid shut, face contorting in an anguished grimace that was mercifully hidden from the other’s view by the dark shadows shrouding the cramped, basement space.

Good. It was the very least he deserved for his massive failure.

“Aw, come now. Can’t allow that.”

A rough, painful smack to his cheek had Overhaul letting out a muffled groan, dim, golden eyes reluctantly opening up again to peer up and focus on the man in front of him once more, Dabi having somehow moved even closer to him while Chisaki was distracted, sharp, white teeth bared in a jagged, vicious smile. “That’s it. Come back to me, Princess. Can’t have you dying on us just yet.”

Before Overhaul could even begin to protest, before he could do so much as twitch, rough, calloused hands were suddenly upon him, wrapping ruthlessly around one of his bloodied stumps, another, agonized sound escaping the former yakuza’s lips against the man’s best wishes, Chisaki gritting his teeth in anger and frustration at his own weakness. Although he couldn’t quite stifle the cry that wrung itself from his throat as his bandages were viciously ripped off in one, swift movement, turquoise eyes silently assessing the horrific damage, a thoughtful hum resonating through Dabi’s broad chest.

“Huh. It’s not as bad as I expected actually. A little fire will easily do the trick.”

His eyes going wide as the sheer implication of those words finally caught up with his exhausted and addled mind, Overhaul sharply looked up at the other man, his mouth going dry and golden eyes wide and terrified.

“Wha-?”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence.

A strangled, deafening screech of pure, unfiltered agony echoed across the small expanse of the dirty basement as blue flames suddenly made contact with his skin and his arms lit up with a pain he had never felt before, the world around him regressing into a muddled mess of colors and sounds and the smell of burning flesh. It took him several moments to realize that he was openly crying now, tears of overwhelming hurt and terror pouring down his cheeks in thick, glistening rivulets and splattering against the dusty floor below. It took him even longer to realize that the raucous, harsh sounds now echoing down the dark stone corridors outside the room beside his own screaming were that of laughter, the sadistic man before him chortling with mirth.

Dabi grinned down at him, his face lit up and eerily highlighted by the blue light of the dancing flames currently burning into his flesh, twisted in insanity and Chisaki tried to get away, tried to wrench his arms out of that cruel grasp- only to be pulled closer still, the villain openly reveling in his pain. 

“Aw, come now. Don’t tell me you can’t handle a little heat.” He purred, his breath hot and putrid against the shorter man’s face and Overhaul couldn’t stop another helpless scream that bubbled up his throat as his other arm was subjected to the same treatment, blood filling his mouth as he bit down viciously on his own tongue, struggling weakly against the pyromaniac’s grasp. Already he could feel his consciousness slipping away from him, darkness edging his vision as agony became his world, his whole reason for living, consuming him whole.

How had it come to this? How could he have allowed something like this to happen? He wasn’t supposed to be here, writhing uselessly in the villain’s hands, trying desperately to escape the flames so painfully cauterizing his wounds. He wasn’t supposed to be here, trapped in this dirty, dark basement of the League’s current hideout, his arms and quirk missing, his business destroyed and his work – forever stolen. No. He was supposed to be home, back at the Shie Hassaikai. He was supposed to be safe, he was supposed to be working on a cure for this infected, diseased society, he was supposed to-

The flames abruptly left his flesh and Chisaki collapsed onto the dirty stone floor, ragged sobs and desperate gasps for air leaving his lips as he struggled to get much needed air into his lungs, eyes burning with tears that he now realized he could not stop from flowing.

He was supposed to be with Pops.

“Man, looks like Toga was right. You are a crybaby.” A voice tutted disapprovingly above him, and Overhaul couldn’t stop himself from whimpering in pain and fright as cruel fingers raked against his scalp, grabbing a fistful of chestnut hair and forcefully lifting him into a more or less upright position, Dabi leaning in close, bright, turquoise eyes boring into glistening golden ones. “But that’s what you get for killing Magne and torturing a little girl, ain't it? Karma’s one beautiful bitch, don’t ya think, Overhaul? Or should I say Chisaki Kai.”

Gathering the last dregs of dignity he had left to him, the yakuza forced himself to meet that insane gaze in a fierce glare, his face still wet with pain-induced tears yet contorted in a snarl of anger and defiance. “Don’t call me that.” 

Dabi merely arched a brow in a manner which could almost be perceived as amusement, the corners of his ruined lips curling in a lazy grin Overhaul wished with all his heart he could wipe away, the man leaning even closer into his personal space, Chisaki barely resisting the urge to gag as the stench of smoke and burned flesh filled his nostrils, terror wrapping its icy claws around his frantically beating heart.

“You’re gonna be here for a long time, Kai.” The villain purred, his burnt knuckles brushing gently against the struggling yakuza’s cheek in a mockery of a lover’s caress, the insane glint returning to his turquoise eyes. “Might as well get used to it.”

And for the first time in perhaps his entire life, Chisaki felt true despair.

Chapter Text

Screams and ear-splitting shouts became his world.

They surrounded him on all sides, echoed in the vast blackness of the empty void pressing in on him from every angle, the shrill sounds heartbreaking, utterly soul-wrenching as he struggled to figure out where they were coming from, to whom they belonged. 

Sharp, conical spikes jutted out of the stone ground beneath him, morphing before his very eyes as if of their own volition and effectively surrounding him, caging him in a circle of deadly blades before he could do so much as blink. He narrowly avoided several of them, barely managed to dodge their serrated edges and prevent them from piercing through his skin, his teeth gritting together as he deftly weaved from side to side, his quirk activating on instinct as he tried to evade them to the best of his ability even though he realized that it would only be a matter of time before they finally managed to skewer him. 

The screams and agonized shrieks around him only rose in volume with each passing second, the sounds horrifying, haunting, ones you really only ever expected to hear in your darkest dreams. His heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribcage, fingers curling into tight, white knuckled fists and nails digging almost ruthlessly into his skin, Deku turned his head this way and that, the boy trying his best to figure out where the wordless screeches of pure agony were coming from. He didn't know what he was doing here. Wasn't quite sure where here even was. Wasn't certain who he was supposed to be fighting. All he really knew was that he had to help that person, had to save them, that he had to be there to—

"You're sick, all of you. You're all tainted. And what you need is a cure."

The boy froze where he stood at those growled words, his green eyes suddenly going wide.

That voice. He knew it all too well. Even though it has been a good three years since he's heard it last. Gravelly, low, dripping with hidden menace and dark promises of pain, but... no. That couldn't be right, could it? He couldn't possibly be here. No one's seen or even heard from the man ever since that fateful raid on the Shie Hassaikai and the subsequent attack upon the police convoy by the infamous League of Villains. Everyone had just eventually presumed that he was dead. The police, the heroes, the media too... Especially after finding the wreckage and blood splattered across the highway, DNA tests of the latter confirming their suspicions of it belonging to the young capo. The League members were murderers, terrorists, not people you could easily cross and expect to live to tell the tale. None of them had had any doubts whatsoever that the man hadn't survived his encounter with them. So, he simply couldn't be here!

"I will end this infected society! Cure this hero sickness!"

Golden eyes, wide and glistening with insanity, glared at him from the dark depths of the blackness surrounding him, the boy slowly turning on his heel, his breath catching within his throat at the horrifying sight. He barely managed to leap out of the way as the villain lunged at him from the shadows to greet him, gloveless hands poised to strike and narrowly missing the hero's form, a startled grunt escaping his lips. Instinctively sinking down into a crouch, Deku glowered at the man now standing before him, his emerald green eyes narrowed in anger and his teeth bared, long suppressed memories springing to the forefront of his mind once more even as he tried his hardest to suppress them, fear wrapping its icy claws around his frantically beating heart. Images of a silver haired girl, her beautiful ruby eyes wet with tears of terror, guilt and despair. A man, his rectangular glasses cracked and askew, features drenched in crimson blood as he sagged helplessly upon the stone spike impaling his gut. A boy, barely a few years older than Deku himself, screaming out in horror and helplessness as he was forced to watch his mentor, the man who had taught him so much, made him into the hero he was now, die, staggering uncontrollably where he stood upon the cracked ground of the battlefield, his white costume stained in what appeared to be a permanent red...

This villain had hurt them, had terrorized them, had left them with wounds that would never ever truly heal. This man was...

"CHI-SA-KIII!!!"

And suddenly his world erupted in blinding pain.

Sitting up sharply with a strangled gasp, Deku let out a low groan as his head smacked against the bed's headrest with tremendous force, a dull ache instantly radiating through his skull in pulsing waves. Gingerly rubbing at his abused forehead, hurt-induced tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the boy turned to glare at the nearby alarm clock perched precariously upon the edge of a cluttered desk, blinking several times to clear his blurry vision and glimpse the ruby numbers displayed there. 5 AM. Great. He could've easily slept for another hour before finally getting up and going through with his morning routine had it not been for his most recent nightmare. The hero wondered whether or not he should be disturbed by that fact. He hadn't had night terrors as vivid as this one for a while now, the boy more often than not collapsing onto his bed in a dreamless sleep after yet another exhausting day of training.

Especially about Chisaki.

Sighing heavily and realizing that there was really no point in going back to sleep now, not with the last dregs of the horrifying dream still playing on an endless loop within his sleep-addled mind, Deku slowly rose from his plush bed, the eighteen-year old hero groaning in satisfaction as he felt several bones crack in a way that sent pleasant tingles running up his spine, but would've made any person standing nearby wince in involuntary sympathy. Reaching out for his clothes with one scarred hand, the boy dressed rather quickly, intent on getting to the showers and brushing his teeth before the rest of 3-A began to get up. Knowing Kacchan, he wouldn't be too surprised if the explosive hero was already awake as well, forcibly dragging himself out of bed and heading out in the same direction as Izuku, still battling with residual drowsiness. And the last thing he needed right now was an early confrontation with a sleep deprived Bakugo. God knows how, but the guy managed to be even more volatile and irritable in the morning than he was on a general basis.

The dorm rooms were still dark and quiet as he swiftly made his way down the dimly lit hallways, stray crimson rays of sunlight splattering against the walls and carpeted floor through the overhead glass windows in breathtaking blotches of bright colors, but he encountered no problems with navigating himself to the communal bathrooms, having already learned the path by heart over the three years of his stay in UA. Letting his gaze wonder, his eyes finally fell upon the transparent wall overlooking their dorm courtyard, the H-shaped building of UA shining in the distance, standing tall and proud, illuminated by the ruby light of the rising sun. Like a beacon of hope and reassurance for all those desperate and in need to see. Some more than others.

Truth be told, he hadn't dreamt or even thought of Chisaki Kai in a long, long time... If he were being completely honest with himself, the Shie Hassaikai raid seemed like nothing more than a distant nightmare to him now. One that he had almost forgotten with the constant studying, training and patrolling for any sign of the League of Villains, the criminal gang having seemingly gone underground, the police never hearing from it since. The boy had felt responsible at first, when he'd first learned of the harrowing news of Snatch's murder and Chisaki's abduction. Had believed that it was somehow his fault that he did not foresee Tomura Shigaraki coming after his criminal rival and possibly murdering him in the most horrifying way imaginable. If he had just gone with them, if he had just reported their sightings of the League during the raid - then perhaps the attack would've been successfully fended off. Perhaps Snatch wouldn't have died horrifically and Chisaki would not have been abducted and killed and instead shipped off to Tartarus where he rightfully belonged. But whatever sympathy his heart could muster for Overhaul's misfortune had promptly evaporated when Sir Nighteye had breathed his last and Eri remained in a highly feverish state for over a week. Thus reminding him of the people Chisaki had selfishly hurt in his blind pursuit of an insane goal.

Whatever punishment the man had had to endure at the hands of Shigaraki and his men before his demise was more than deserved. That much was for certain.

Shaking his head, Deku entered the clean bathrooms, dropping his things on the porcelain surface of the sink and stepping into the nearest shower stall, sighing in relief as hot water instantly splashed against his sweaty skin, washing away the last remnants of the horrifying dream. 

No matter. He had other, more important things to focus on. Such as perfecting the quirks of the other OFA users and preparing for the next test of his abilities. Using Black whip and Smokescreen was becoming second nature. Utilizing the others was proving to be a bit more challenging. Simultaneously - even more so.

However, despite the numerous challenges standing in his path, he was well on his way to becoming Japan's number one hero. Izuku was sure of it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Recovery Girl's office always brought with it a sense of comfort.

Despite the whiteness of the walls, the sterile feel and the smell of antiseptic permeating every inch of the large (if somewhat cluttered) expanse of the room, Deku couldn't help but feel comforted every time he ventured inside the slightly cramped space, fond memories of his many visits over the years replaying in his mind. It was as if the woman's very spirit had left its mark upon the office, filling it with her warmth and positivity, making all of her patients immediately feel at ease regardless of the severity of their injuries. It was an ability that Izuku couldn't help but admire in the woman, his heart instinctively lifting the moment he stepped over the metal threshold, the boy hoping that one day he would be able to replicate this too. That he would be able to be a source of warmth and comfort for all those who were suffering and in need of help, like All Might had once been for every citizen of Japan. But he still had a long way to go, even if he would get there eventually. All he had to do right now was be patient, and train hard and he would certainly become the worthy successor his mentor had always envisioned him to be.

His arms ached, the bruises coloring his skin from his latest training session with Bakugo sending unpleasant twinges of pain radiating up his limbs. Honing the multiple quirks passed down to him by OFA's previous users was easier said than done, that's for sure. Though Deku could easily handle the rough training (it wasn't something he couldn't take given all the things he'd been through over the last few years), it did become somewhat tiring sometimes to deal with the constant discomfort even though he'd long since grown used to it. This was the life of a hero, after all, he had to remind himself of that. Daily scrapes and bruises and the occasional shattered bone were just part of the job. Even so, he would admit, it would be nice to go at least one day without a contusion. A boy could dream.

However, as he looked around the small hospital space, he noticed that Recovery Girl was nowhere to be seen. Though he would have been more than happy to avoid stopping by her office altogether (he didn't wish to bother her with such trivial injuries more than strictly necessary), mister Aizawa had insisted that he visit her before retiring for the day. Nothing could hamper his performance in the field. It was impractical to leave even the smallest of injuries unchecked.

Frowning slightly to himself, Deku paced around the large room, wondering where the school nurse could've gone to. It was much too early for her to retire as far as he was aware, and the office door had been unlocked when he'd come in. The lights were on too, meaning that she'd fully intended to returning within a short period of time. Perhaps she'd left to speak with the Principal? Or had been called in to deal with some other students? The Support course had been having some highly destructive accidents lately, at no small fault of Hatsume Mei. It would make sense if Recovery Girl had left to deal with some form of crisis, wouldn't it?

With nothing else left for him to do, Deku wandered around the cramped space of the nurse's office, his green eyes scrutinizing the various papers secured to the wall and piled neatly on the woman's desk, casually inspecting them as he waited for her to return. Class schedules, old alumni photos (those were a bit more interesting as he could name most heroes displayed there, though some faces were still unfamiliar to him), medical histories of current students...

It was then that his gaze fell upon a door carefully concealed by a medical privacy screen, the boy frowning in confusion at the sight of it, curiosity welling inside of him. 

Strange. He couldn't remember there being a separate room here before. Had he somehow missed it during his previous visits? Or had it been added more recently? Regardless, perhaps it was worth checking out. It was possible that Recovery Girl was simply working in a separate room, and hadn't heard him come in. Even though he had called her name...

His mind set, Izuku slowly approached the strange door, his scarred hand reaching out to gently knock against the smooth surface, when something suddenly flashed in the corners of his eyes, the boy turning his gaze up and promptly coming face to face with a small camera hanging just above the silver doorframe.

Deku practically felt his frown darken at that, his confusion only growing. 

Why would Recovery Girl require cameras in her office? Wasn't this supposed to be a private area? It didn't make any sense why she would have one of these here of all places. Was there really something she did not want others to find? No, that thought was ridiculous, he was certainly overthinking this. It didn't sound like her and there were no secrets in UA as far as he was aware, with very few areas being closed off from students. 

Shaking his head to banish his paranoid thoughts, the boy lightly knocked on the silver door, his fingers wrapping around the smooth handle and carefully turning it, cautiously stepping into the darkened room. "Um, Recovery Girl? This is Midoriya Izuku? I just wanted to ask you—" the words died on his lips as soon as they had left them, the young hero freezing where he stood.

It took some time for Deku's mind to process what he was seeing.

The room was mostly empty save for a single cot positioned in the middle, the metallic headboard of what was unmistakably a medical gurney pressed against the wall, with several IV drips standing on each side. Transparent tubes stretched from the bags of clear liquid hung upon them, the fluids glistening softly in the low light of the half-opened door, the boy almost finding himself mesmerized by their dull shine. But that wasn't what drew his immediate attention in the end. No. It was the form lying limp and immobile upon the narrow gurney that attracted his gaze, the small figure swathed in heavy blankets and looking impossibly frail. Almost lifeless, had it not been for the steady beeping of a heart monitor placed nearby.

His chest suddenly feeling tight, horror wrapping it's freezing claws around his heart, Deku didn't realize he was backing away until he slammed back first into a wall, his green eyes never leaving the man lying still upon the hospital bed. He recognized him almost immediately, his fingers curling into tight fists as old anger and hurt sprang back to the surface, his teeth clenching together so as not to permit a single sound to escape his pale lips.

Chisaki.

But the figure lying helplessly before his eyes only barely resembled the villain he had known three years ago.

The first thing he noticed upon closer inspection of the unconscious man was how sickly and thin the other looked, his face void of any trace of healthy fat it had held during their last meeting, cheeks sunken and gaunt, collarbone protruding sharply from what little he could see of Chisaki's body, looking as if it were mere seconds away from poking right through. The second thing he noticed was how pale the villain formerly known as Overhaul actually was now, his skin an unpleasant, pastel white, as if he had not been exposed to sunlight for quite some time. Cautiously coming even closer to the narrow bed, the boy instantly took notice of the faint sheen of sweat glistening upon Chisaki's forehead, damp strands of his dark, poorly trimmed hair sticking to the wet surface in messy clumps as the man shivered ever so slightly where he lay, despite the thick covers draped over his thin body. A barely discernible flush colored his sharp cheekbones, the man drawing in gasping, shallow breaths. Having seen such symptoms before, it didn't take Deku long to recognize the signs of a high-running fever, even without feeling the heat radiating from the other's form.

And it was then that he noticed the bruises.

His breath catching within his throat, Deku cautiously leaned over the medical gurney and the unconscious villain lying upon it, his fingers slowly clenching around the metallic bars lining each side of the narrow cot as his horrified green eyes raked over the man's body, following the dark lines of visible contusions not covered by thick layers of bandages, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow. 

One of Chisaki's eyes was completely black and swollen shut, the injury still looking fairly recent judging by the sheer swelling affecting the area, though it already looked like it was steadily receding. Several scratches and bruises decorated the side of the man's face, especially his temple, as if someone had struck him there with all their might. A blow as vicious as that could have easily caused a serious concussion, the boy knew that from personal experience. He would be surprised if it had not knocked the other out upon receiving it. One corner of Chisaki's lips seemed torn, as if it had once been busted and the blood - neatly washed away. But that wasn't even the worst of it, the worst of it being the dark markings coloring the other's neck.

It took Deku longer than he would admit for his mind to register what he was seeing, a stuttered, hissed out breath leaving his lips as he stared at the black and blue choker wrapped around the other man's throat, the shapes of the nasty looking bruises unmistakably those of human fingers. The realization came crashing down upon him suddenly, almost out of nowhere, the hero in training swallowing down bile, resisting the urge to turn around and empty his stomach contents onto the hospital floor.

Someone had tried to strangle him.

"You shouldn't be here, young Midoriya."

The voice was quiet, almost somber, but Deku couldn't stop himself from flinching at the sound of it if he tried, so focused was he on the wounded villain lying before him that he completely neglected to pay attention to his surroundings, his wide, green eyes meeting All Might's own.

For a minute neither of them spoke, the two heroes standing in tense silence with only the steady beeping of the machines and Chisaki's faint, labored breathing breaking the quiet that had fallen between them, the boy hesitating for several minutes before finally speaking up, his vocals hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

"What happened to him?"

He didn't know what had prompted him to ask that particular question first. Perhaps it would've been far more apt to inquire what the villain was doing here in the first place, in UA of all places, to demand why he'd been brought so close to the people he'd once hurt. But all his mind could really focus on in that moment seemed to be the contusions littered across the man's skin, the faint outlines of grotesque scars and burns peeking out from beneath his hospital gown and bandages, the sickly, skeleton-like resemblance of his body...

All Might heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging in visible exhaustion, but Deku failed to feel the familiar guilt stirring within him, his emerald gaze never leaving his mentor's form, silently demanding an answer.

"Let us step outside."

Suddenly reluctant to leave the villain's side, Deku nevertheless forced himself to follow the other man into the adjacent room, the former hero leaving the door to the sealed-off ward slightly ajar, allowing the young hero in training a view of the injured criminal lying within it. As if he somehow knew that not being able to see Chisaki and worrying about it would make it difficult for Izuku to concentrate.

"About two weeks ago, the police received a call about a disturbance in an abandoned complex near the former hideout of the Shie Hassaikai. We didn't suspect anything at the time, assuming that a new gang was moving in on the territory. It wouldn't be unusual. One crime syndicate goes down - another takes its place. Even in this day and age." All Might shook his head, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he glanced at the silver door, the look in his blue eyes distant. "However... what we found was not what we had been expecting at all."

Deku watched in tense silence as All Might strode over to the nearby office table, pulling out a thin medical folder and extending it in his direction, the boy cautiously accepting it into his own hands and opening it, his eyes widening at the information displayed there.

"On one of the lower levels, our officers came across Chisaki Kai. As you can see upon discovery he was terribly malnourished, and suffered from multiple injuries, none of which fortunately proved to be fatal. From the circumstances of his disappearance, as well as the sheer nature of his wounds, we can presume that Chisaki was abducted and held hostage by the League of Villains, though we yet do not posses any concrete proof and their motives for doing so are still unclear. One theory suggests that they kept him around as revenge for what happened to one of their team members, who we presume was killed in an altercation between the Hassaikai and the League. Another states that he was used for information, particularly his research and manufacture of quirk destroying bullets - though this is less likely as without Eri as a resource it is doubtful that the League made any progress. Whatever their reason may be, however, it is clear that they harbored quite a lot of resentment towards Chisaki... Enough to keep him in their so called... custody for years."

Deku's throat flexed in a heavy swallow, his green eyes seemingly unable to leave the gruesome image of an injured Chisaki clipped neatly to the hospital reports, his face going almost ghostly white.

"But... why bring him here?" He forced out at last, voice trembling almost imperceptibly. "Why bring him so close to Mirio? To Eri? Why isn't he in the villain hospital? They're equipped to take care of him, right? Or even... Tartarus?" Even the maximum security prison had to be better than this... Whatever this was.

All Might heaved a tired breath, long fingers rubbing firm circles into his aching temples.

"You are right to ask, but truth of the matter is... Chisaki is the only lead we've had in the last three years. Ever since the League went underground and completely disappeared from our radar we've been unable to get any new clues as to their whereabouts or activities. Shigaraki doesn't seem like he's backing down and he has to be planning something, we're certain of it. But what? We don't know, and up until recently we didn't have any way to find out. We cannot lose our first and only clue to his intentions. Neither the Musutafu villain hospital, nor even Tartarus can guarantee Chisaki's safety, which is now of utmost priority. UA was the only option."

"So... You're keeping him here... for information?"

For some reason that particular thought didn't sit well with Izuku. He understood of course the logic behind it, understood the necessity, but when spoken aloud it sounded... somehow callous. Cold. Impersonal. Not hero-like at all. As if Chisaki were no more than a tool rather than a living, breathing human being, a resource, existing only for heroes such as himself to glean information out of. 

Deku couldn't stop himself from frowning if he tried.

As much as he might resent Overhaul for everything he'd done... What they were doing sounded very wrong. And he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

As if reading his thoughts, All Might strode forward, his hand settling lightly upon the boy's shoulder, gently prompting him to meet his eyes. "We can't always act with honor, kid," he said quietly, his voice almost impossibly soft. "Sometimes... It is necessary for us to fall to distasteful methods in order to stay ahead of the criminals seeking to tear this world apart. The safety and future of this society depends on it. This isn't the right time for ethics"

Deku knew that that was true, of course. Knew that believing otherwise was a child's wishful thinking. But even so, he couldn't stop the sense of unease from welling within his chest, the feeling of his insides roiling with disgust at the very thought.

Was there really no other way? Was this indeed the price he would end up having to pay one day as well? Knowingly sacrificing one person for the sake of others? Using them only for information before casting them aside and forgetting them? Even if it was a criminal, was this really the only answer?

His gaze fell to the documents still clutched within his hands, green eyes landing upon terrified golden ones and he swiftly slammed the medical file shut, no longer able to look at the grisly photos and hospital records displayed there.

Chisaki did not deserve his sympathy.

But even as he left the hospital that evening, even as he made his way back to the dorms, even as he lay in his bed later that night, he found his thoughts inevitably straying back to the injured villain, and the conversation he'd had with All Might.

Was keeping Chisaki around only for the sake of interrogation indeed the right choice? It sounded wrong, but... it wasn't like the villain deserved any of their empathy anyway, right? It wasn't like he shouldn't be exploited. After everything he'd done: torturing and experimenting on Eri, stealing Mirio's quirk, killing Nighteye - it wasn't like he deserved to be... saved. Right?

"Why don't you tell me, what kind of hero do you wanna be?" Mirio's voice sounded in his ear, light and curious. Bright, blue eyes peered cheerfully at him from the other end of the office sofa, an amiable grin spread across boyish features. It took a few moments for him to come up with an answer, but when he finally did, his response came straight from the heart.

"I want to save people with a smile, and I want to be strong, so I won't worry anyone. I want to always win and... save everybody."

Chisaki's face flashed before his eyes, bruised and bloodied, features frozen in terror as he turned to face the police cameras documenting his injuries.

"We can't always act with honor, kid," All Might's voice whispered, quiet and grim. "Sometimes... It is necessary for us to fall to distasteful methods in order to stay ahead..."

"If I can't save one person, a little girl who's relying on me to help her, then how can I call myself a hero... who saves everybody?!"

His green eyes fell upon the All Might poster hanging over his desk, pain wrapping its claws around his heart.

"Chisaki hurt people," he whispered to himself, eyes never leaving his hero's grinning face. "He tortured a little girl. Killed a Pro. Left another person quirkless... He doesn't deserve to be saved. Being kept here, taken care of, even if only for the sake of information, is more than he deserves. All Might and the other heroes are doing the right thing, I know it, they're looking at the bigger picture here, but..."

But is this... really the kind of hero I want to be?

The image of Chisaki lying there, all bandaged up, looking impossibly thin and sickly, his skin almost deathly white and covered in bruises wouldn't leave his mind's eye.

Now that he thought about it, the man didn't look all that different from the way Eri had...

"I... want to be a hero who saves everybody!"

But not him.

Huffing a frustrated breath, Deku twisted to lie on his side, turning his back on the darkened poster, his face burying itself into the plush surface of his pillow as he forced himself to go back to sleep, banishing any thought of the injured villain to the back of his mind. Where it belonged.

Chisaki Kai did not deserve to be dwelt on.

However, his dreams changed that night. He was in that cave again, stone spikes surrounding him on all sides, their pointed, deadly tips just barely missing grazing against his skin. Screams echoed in his ears, but they were no longer unfamiliar. No. He knew to whom they belonged to now, and the realization left him breathless, conflicting emotions battling within his chest as horror took over his soul, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against his ribcage.

Chisaki.

The villain's voice rose in a pitch Deku had never heard from him before, not even during their battle when the former had been lost in a haze of rage, shouting about how he would reform this unjust society. No. Now his vocals were laced with agony. Helplessness. Fear. He was no longer screaming out in fury.

He was begging for help. Help, that was so unlikely to ever come to a person like him.

And as he peered into the black void pressing in on him again, the eyes watching Deku from the shadows... were no longer golden. No. Instead they were a bright crimson. The perfect shade of freshly spilt blood.

Izuku woke up screaming that night, heavy and desperate gasps for air escaping his heaving chest as he curled up where he sat upon the soft surface of his bed, his shaking arms wrapping around his knees as he buried his face into them, unwilling to yet face the dark world surrounding him.

"If I can't put aside my personal feelings... If I can't save a single person who's relying on me to help them... Then how can I call myself... a hero who saves everybody?" 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Midoriya, are you... all right?" 

The boy looked up.

Shoto stood before him, his brows furrowed just slightly in what appeared to be confusion, a faint glimmer of concern glistening within his heterochromic eyes. Deku couldn't stop himself from wincing at the quiet inquiry, silently cursing himself for being so obvious as he quickly rose to his feet, a scarred hand brushing awkwardly against the back of his neck as he faced his quiet classmate, forcefully schooling his features into a sheepish grin. 

"I-I'm fine, Todoroki. W-Why are you asking?"

The other boy shot him an inscrutable look, his eyes narrowing further. Almost as if he were studying him. Searching for any sign of lying. 

"You've been zoning out the entire day, and you look exhausted. Did you not get enough sleep last night?"

Deku resisted the urge to look away from Shoto's searching gaze, his fingers imperceptibly curling into tight fists.

"No, I did not. Because the entire time I was dreaming about..."

He shut down that line of thought as quickly as it had crossed his mind. As much as he would like to discuss this, to talk to someone about this... Someone who wasn't a pro hero... He knew he couldn't afford to. Knew that UA couldn't afford to lose its only lead. Though it was unlikely that Todoroki would ever betray his confidence, Deku simply couldn't risk the news of Overhaul's survival getting out, couldn't sabotage the hard work the school had already put into concealing the man's existence from the world.

This was his burden to carry, and his alone.

"I had a bit of a rough night," Deku admitted quietly, settling for half-truths that would hopefully not arouse the other's suspicion, his eyes downcast. "Probably had too much coffee while doing some last minute homework. It's not a big deal." He hoped that that answer would satisfy Todoroki, but Shoto was not so easily dissuaded.

"Do you... Wish to talk about it?" He ventured cautiously, almost awkwardly, his eyes raking over Izuku's face, a faint note of worry permeating his usually monotone voice. "I've heard that it helps to discuss such things with others. So... If you ever need it... Know I'm always ready to lend you an ear."

Deku felt a soft smile spread across his face, his throat constricting as he tried to choke back his emotions through sheer force of will, tears of gratitude already prickling at the corners of his eyes despite his best efforts of suppressing them.

He wanted nothing more than to share everything then and there. To tell Shoto about every restless thought that had plagued him since the day before. Since the moment he'd learned about Chisaki. But... He knew couldn't. And somehow that simple realization hurt him more than anything else in the world could.

"Thank you, Todoroki," he said instead, voice quiet and barely more than a whisper. "I really appreciate it."

He didn't know what had prompted him to go back that very same evening. Wasn't quite sure what strange impulse had brought him to that silver door once more. Perhaps it was his desperate need to prove that what they were doing was right, that Chisaki deserved no less than this after all the terrible things he'd done. Perhaps he was only trying to soothe his own conscience, to wipe away the memories of last night's nightmares by somehow convincing himself that the other wasn't in any pain, that he didn't need to be saved. That he didn't deserve to be rescued after everything Mirio and Eri had endured. That any agony that he might indeed be experiencing was nothing less than cosmic retribution. Regardless of his reasoning... He knew he needed to see Chisaki again. To tell him everything he thought about him and his crimes.

Maybe then... by reminding himself of all the things the villain had done... he would somehow no longer feel the wretched sense of guilt and responsibility eating away at his soul.

"Why don't you tell me, what kind of hero do you wanna be?"

"You shouldn't be here, dear."

Recovery Girl's voice was quiet, unusually gentle, and Deku spun around in surprise, having completely neglected to pay attention to his surroundings.

The woman's gaze was soft.

"He is not your burden to bear."

"I know, but..." Despite his best efforts, the boy felt himself trail off, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow. "I need to see him. Please." He wasn't quite sure why he was suddenly so desperate. All he knew was that he had to see the villain again. That he had to... tell him that he couldn't be there. Not for him.

Not after what he did to Eri.

"I... Want to be a hero who saves everybody!"

Something in his voice must've betrayed his desperation because the elderly woman heaved a heavy sigh, her hand brushing lightly against his shoulder and gently grounding him as the boy shook where he stood, his gaze seemingly drawn to the polished floor beneath his feet.

"I told All Might this was a bad idea." She murmured, a note of bitterness pervading her tone even as her touch remained soft and kind upon his shoulder, the familiar warmth comforting in its nature. "You are still a child, the old fool confides in you too much. No person your age should carry even half the weight you are carrying upon their shoulders. But very well," she sighed before Izuku could protest, silently reaching out and pushing the door open, ushering him inside. "If you really must see him, I will not stop you. Just... Don't linger too long."

Swallowing heavily, powerful, conflicting emotions battling for control within his heart, Deku slipped into the darkened room.

Chisaki looked even worse for wear than he did the day before. The boy felt his breath hitch within his chest, horror and pity welling uncontrollably within him at the heartbreaking sight.

A fresh sheen of sweat covered the man's skin, glistening dully in the low lighting of the hospital room. Dark circles lined Chisaki's eyes, lying atop flushed yet hollow cheekbones, as if he hadn't slept the entire night. And as Deku continued to watch him in silence from his place in the doorway, the villain shuddered beneath the heavy blankets draped over his malnourished form, a small, weak sound escaping his pale lips.

Deku froze where he stood.

No, he had to have heard it wrong... Chisaki couldn't be...

"Oh dear," Recovery Girl sighed beside him, already moving toward one of her medical cabinets, retrieving what appeared to be a syringe. "Must be having one of those dreadful nightmares again. He's been having those a lot as of late. Since you're here, won't you watch him for a little bit, dear? Make sure he doesn't hurt himself while I get this ready."

And with that - she was gone, leaving Deku alone with a visibly distressed Chisaki.

Slowly approaching the medical cot standing in the center of the darkened room, the boy hesitated for a few seconds before pulling up a chair and sinking uncomfortably upon it, feeling awkward and out of place. Despite his best efforts to remain unfeeling, the man's crimes playing as if on an endless loop within his mind, his heart couldn't help but clench with every quiet whimper that escaped the former yakuza's throat, every strangled sounding whine.

And when he caught sight of the faint glimmer of tears trickling down the gaunt planes of Chisaki's bruised face - Izuku swore he felt something within him crack.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, before he could even stop to wonder about what the hell he was thinking, the hero felt himself slowly reaching out, his calloused fingers gently wrapping themselves around a pale wrist in a calming gesture, thumb swiping in an arc over sharp knuckles. This close, he could practically feel the heavy shudders travelling through the man's form, hear the quiet sobs escaping his heaving, bandaged chest and see the glistening tracks of liquid dripping down from the corners of Chisaki's closed eyes. Any remaining thoughts about the other's past crimes that might have lingered in the corners of his mind were gone within an instant.

Gently squeezing the trembling hand within his, Deku found himself quietly shushing the distressed yakuza and whispering calming words as Chisaki's trembling only worsened with each passing second, the unconscious man trying instinctively to pull his hand away and out of Deku's grasp in visible distress, hives already breaking out over his skin. "Shh, it's all right, Chisaki." Izuku found himself whispering, his green eyes crinkled in concern as he loosened his grip upon the other's wrist, hoping that that small freedom would put the other at ease, and instead settling his hand lightly upon a trembling shoulder, trying his best to ignore the rough outlines of stitches he felt there. "It's just me. Deku. I won't hurt you."

I promise I won't cause you any more pain than I already have...

He could only watch in silent helplessness as those familiar features twisted in unconcealed anguish, the beeping of the heart monitor standing nearby quickening as the yakuza's panic only rose in intensity despite the boy's efforts, a choked sob wringing itself past pale lips.

"Please... Don't... I'm sorry..." Chisaki whispered, his voice rough and barely audible from disuse, more tears spilling onto his flushed cheeks, his face contorting in fear and agony. "Please... I'm so sorry..." 

Deku practically felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces.

Before he could do or say anything else, however, Recovery Girl was suddenly there at his side, her deft fingers plucking the IV tube and injecting a clear liquid into it, Chisaki's panicked thrashing gradually growing weaker until he once again lay still upon the hospital bed, his features relaxing as he was put under once more. Even so, Deku found himself unable to leave the villain's side for a long time after that, even as evening darkness fell upon the sealed off ward, casting the room into deep shadows.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself that the man deserved this fate - he couldn't do it. Even with the memories of Chisaki's crimes playing again and again within his mind, even with the images of Eri and Nighteye and Mirio flashing before his eyes, the sounds of their screams echoing hauntingly in his ears - he couldn't bring himself to believe that this was what the other deserved. That this could ever be called justice. To be tortured and beaten within an inch of your life for what appeared to be years, be broken beyond repair, left shattered and alone upon a lonely hospital bed, surrounded by people seeking only to exploit you... Being sent to Tartarus would've been a far better option. Even death would've been a far more merciful outcome than this.

And something told Izuku that Overhaul would agree with him on that.

"I'll save you," the boy thought to himself as he finally stood up to leave, his green eyes never leaving Chisaki's sleeping form. "No matter what."

"Because I'm a hero... who saves everybody."

Chapter Text

The chain attached to the cuff around his ankle rattled unpleasantly as he moved, the deafening, clanging noise causing pulsing waves of fresh agony to course through his already aching skull, his teeth gritting from the nauseating pain of their own accord. 

By far the last thing he needed now was to empty his meager stomach contents onto the dirty floor. The very idea of being covered in his own vomit, on top of everything else, was simply unbearable.

Some part of him had to wonder if perhaps he should be more grateful that this was what the villains had settled on as a restraint. He didn't want to imagine what other, more loathsome bonds their twisted little minds could've possibly come up with. Dabi had already joked about putting a dog collar around his neck, and the mere thought of being forced to wear such a humiliating article was enough for him to break out in cold sweat, his horrified golden eyes meeting laughing turquoise.

To be tied up like some common mutt for these crazed, diseased people... for their amusement... no, he most certainly would not have been able to handle that, his stomach churning and bile rising in his throat at the very concept.

Thankfully, they'd settled on the ankle cuff in the end, Shigaraki mentioning something about 'their guest making himself comfortable' before promptly getting up and leaving, his little entourage following closely in tow. Whatever the hell that meant. But even though this was a much better option to being forced into a collar, wearing the stupid thing fastened around his leg quickly proved to be a far from tolerable alternative.

The cold metal dug viciously into his skin, the sensation unpleasant at first, but steadily growing into painful as the hours relentlessly ticked by. No matter how much he tried to preserve whatever little amount of dignity he still had left to him, Chisaki could no longer stop himself from grimacing in discomfort as he shifted where he sat against the cold wall of the League's basement, hissed out breaths of suppressed pain slipping past his tightly clenched teeth despite his best efforts of remaining silent. Had he had a little less self-control and still been in possession of his arms, he would've been no doubt clawing at the accursed band by now, his fingers trying fruitlessly to loosen its vice-like grip around his flesh and soothe his chafing skin, but as it were - he wasn't. His hands were forever gone. Courtesy of the very people who had imprisoned him here. And all he could really do now was try and endure this humiliating treatment, try and hide his growing ache from his captors, unwilling to show them even more weakness than he already had. 

His breakdown after losing Pops was enough humiliation to last him a lifetime.

But no matter how hard he tried to hide his weakness, to not give the League the pleasure of seeing him so defeated, it still did nothing to stop him from facing the cold reality of his current predicament, the realization that he was truly nothing now, nothing but a plaything for second-rate criminals to mess around with, an object for their entertainment. Chisaki had lost everything in that God forsaken raid. He knew he had. He knew he had absolutely nothing left to him. The empire he'd spent so much time building up had been taken down, along with his influence and power. His freedom had been stolen, and as if all of that wasn't enough for him already - even his own arms had been viciously stripped away, Shigaraki's maniacal laughter echoing hauntingly in his ears.

This was rock bottom as he knew it and he would never again rise back to his former glory. He had nothing. He was nothing. And the only thing his future had in store for him now was a long and drawn out death.

"Tell me again who the next leader's gonna be?"

The first few days of his imprisonment had been spent in confusion, Chisaki alternating between vicious bouts of pain, grief and rage. So lost was he within his own suddenly rampant emotions, that he barely noticed the hunger clawing at his insides, the thirst from his significant blood loss, or even the unbearable filth of his surroundings, his skin itching with every brush against dirty stone.

He hadn't been visited by the League members once after Dabi had seen to his arms. Almost as if they had completely forgotten all about him. It would've been a small relief, had he not been so consumed by his own increasingly violent thoughts. Once he had recovered from his abrupt defeat and the loss of the only person he had ever cared about, Chisaki had been too busy trying to blame everything and everyone for his downfall to pay much attention to his surroundings; the man finding himself silently cursing the League, the incompetent moron he'd employed to watch the girl, the diseased youth infected with hero syndrome and false ideas of grandeur, the Eight Bullets, Eri—

"Eri, naughty girl, you belong to me..."

But in those first few days he never blamed himself. Not once. Not truly. Not even when the truth was staring him right in the face, the young capo still too arrogant to see and admit it. And that overwhelming sense of pride, of hubris would inevitably prove to be his undoing.

If it hadn't already.

The metal door to the basement screeched unpleasantly against the dusty floor as it was slowly pushed aside, the captive reluctantly looking up at his unexpected visitor, dim, golden eyes meeting bright crimson.

Shigaraki. And if the shadows hovering behind the man's shoulders were of any indication - accompanied by his little posse. 

Chisaki couldn't stop himself from tensing where he sat propped up against cold stone as the LoV leader came to a leisurely stop in front of him, the man staring at him from beneath long strands of greasy blue hair for several seconds without speaking. Almost as if he were studying him. Trying to stare him down into submission.

Not one to be outdone, even in this beaten and pathetic state, Kai glared right back at him with equal intensity, his lips curling in a disgusted and angry snarl. Even after his massive failure, slipping into his ruthless 'Overhaul' persona while in the other villain's presence was somehow comforting, even if that comfort was short-lived.

A brief twitch of chapped lips was the only warning he got before his head was suddenly forced to the side, his temple slamming painfully against cold stone and causing stars to explode across his vision, a resounding smack echoing across the darkened room. Shigaraki sneered down at him with contempt, savage cruelty glistening within his crimson and bloodthirsty eyes.

"And here I thought we'd beaten the disrespect out of you by now. Or was losing everything you ever worked for not enough for you?" 

There was blood on Chisaki's tongue, the taste bitter and nauseating. He could feel his cheek aching from the harsh blow, heat flashing over his skin, and he had no doubts that a bruise was probably already blossoming there, though he had no way of checking to make sure. He didn't reply to Shigaraki's jab, opting instead to hold his tongue and only opening his mouth to spit out the excess blood, his features twisting briefly in a grimace of revulsion.

The act disgusted him, caused hives to break out over his skin and his mind to scream out in horror at all the filth surrounding him, but it was better than swallowing it down, the idea of choking on his own bodily fluids enough to make his insides clench with nausea.

If he lost his composure now - the villains would never let him live it down.

His stubborn silence seemed to displease the deranged criminal standing before him greatly, if the quiet, barely audible growl was anything to go by. From the corner of his eyes he could see the League members tense and shift, obviously ready for action, a sharp glint of cold metal informing him that the young brat (Toga, he believed her name was, though he didn't particularly care) had retrieved one of her trusty blades, clearly eager to use it.

It wouldn't be the first time he was stabbed. Though it would certainly be a novelty to be unable to fix the damage. If he was lucky, perhaps he'd bleed out before the League members could do anything about it.

Even death was a far preferable fate than this.

"Let me cut him, Tomura. Real quick."

"No," Shigaraki rasped, the man coming to kneel before the captive yakuza, his gaze boring into the other's face. Chisaki's eyes narrowed in response. "Not yet."

The teen groaned in disappointment, but neither of them paid any heed as Shigaraki reached into the folds of his dark coat, retrieving two small boxes and holding them out for Chisaki to see. He recognized them almost immediately. How could he not? The serum and the finished product. The results of his hard work that were so arrogantly stolen from him just days prior. 

Chisaki's teeth grit so hard, the man swore he felt them crack.

A faint note of triumph glistened in Shigaraki's loathsome crimson eyes at Overhaul's visible indignation, those scarred lips pulling into a pleased, sadistic grin as the two containers were set on the dirty floor between them, Chisaki forcefully biting back an enraged remark at the slow, deliberate action, every inch of his being itching to pick the boxes up and wipe them clean again. Cleanse them from contamination. Not that he could. Not anymore.

"Now for starters, why don't you tell me: which is which? We wouldn't want to waste such precious weapons on some random NPC, after all. Not after you've worked so hard to create them for us." 

A few snickers travelled through the crowd of gathered villains behind Shigaraki's back at the mocking words and the yakuza practically felt his teeth clench tighter together, cold rage coursing through his veins.

That arrogant little brat!

But anger would do very little for him in his current situation, and so Chisaki remained stubbornly silent, instead resigning himself to glaring holes into the man kneeling before him.

Those crimson eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Now now, don't be stubborn, or you won't like the consequences. I can promise you that. Didn't you say you liked to play shogi? I must say you're not being a very good captured piece. Answer the question before I start losing my patience." The last part was uttered in a growl, an obvious warning that even Chisaki could pick up on. Even so, he remained silent, pointedly clenching his jaw shut and raising his chin in defiance, uttering only two hissed out words:

"Fuck you."

Shigaraki did not seem to like that at all.

Despite his best efforts of not making a single sound, Chisaki was unable to stop himself from gasping as the villain landed a sharp blow against his stomach, quite literally knocking the wind out of him with the force of the vicious punch, the captured yakuza folding in half where he sat against the stone wall and coughing uncontrollably, struggling to draw air back into his lungs. And yet he still remained silent when Shigaraki asked again. And again. And again, only occasionally telling the fucker to go to hell. And promptly suffered the consequences for his continued resistance.

He soon lost count of the kicks and punches thrown his way. Didn't know when he'd been forced from his spot against the wall and pushed down onto the filthy floor instead, the young capo instinctively curling up to shield his vulnerable midsection and head from the villain's surprisingly strong blows, blood already staining his face.

Having used 'overhaul' on himself so many times and been an instigator of many fights both as a child and an adult, he could handle a simple beating, could tolerate the pain that naturally came with it. But as loath as he was to admit it - this time the circumstances were quite different. This time there was no opportunity for instant relief, no quirk to cure his serious injuries and absolutely no opportunity to fight back. And the more the beating dragged on, the more he came to realize that he indeed had to give Shigaraki some credit: the man was creative in his attacks and the pain was steadily taking its toll on Chisaki's body.

He wasn't in the best shape after the police raid as it were. Even with Eri's rewind erasing most of his injuries, both Lemillion and Deku had still done quite a number on him. Enough for the effects to be felt for days. Not to mention his amputated arms. Loath as he was to admit it, the villain had more of an advantage than any of his opponents had before, the man targeting already wounded areas that Chisaki simply had had no opportunity to fix.

Thanks to his missing hands.

His wordless gasps for air soon turned into moans. Moans steadily grew into cries. His ribcage felt like it was on the brink of caving in, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe, his heart hammering a panicked rhythm within his heaving chest. And when his kneecap shattered beneath Shigaraki's foot from a particularly violent kick - he arched off the floor with a deafening shriek, his golden eyes going wide at the sharp spike of agony in the sea of pain he was already drowning in. And yet Chisaki still refused to answer, refused to give in when so much had been stripped away from him already: Pops, the organization, his dreams, freedom and dignity. His arms.

At the very least Shigaraki would never get his grubby hands on his research.

Before the villain could land another blow against his trembling flank, however, he was stopped by a scarred hand firmly grasping his shoulder, Tomura spinning around to face the unfortunate fool who had dared to interrupt him while he was busy, chapped lips curled in an ugly snarl of fury. 

Despite the anger directed at him, Dabi remained startlingly impassive. Almost bored.

"Give it a rest, boss, he ain't talking. And if you keep this up he'll just end up dead long before we can get anything useful outta him."

Shigaraki glowered at the other man, his long fingers instinctively rising to his neck in irritation, both villains ignoring Chisaki's violent hacking and coughing in the background. He knew his second was right of course, could tell when a strategy was failing, but that didn't mean that he would willingly admit it, his red eyes boring into cold turquoise.

"Well, what would you suggest?"

Dabi's shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug.

"We have to be more creative, s'all. He'll crack eventually. Take a break and let the other players have a go. We'll get the answers we need from him in time. Pay the fucker back for what he did to Magne too."

Shigaraki scratched thoughtfully at his neck at those words, his considering red gaze falling upon Chisaki's bruised and bloodied form once more.

"Very well then," he rasped, watching as their prisoner spat out blood, drawing in ragged, desperate breaths, his golden eyes wide and unfocused and crimson liquid dripping sluggishly from the corner of his lips; the yakuza not even a shadow of his usual arrogant self.

"Break him."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He drifted in and out of consciousness for several days.

Most times he woke alone, in a strange white room that he did not immediately recognize, the sheer brightness of his surroundings unpleasant, borderline painful, prompting him to instantly close his eyes and surrender himself to unconsciousness once more. On a few rare occasions there were people there beside him, but they were all so blurry that he couldn't even begin to hope to recognize any of their faces, nor really care to try. Strangely enough, one figure seemed to be vaguely familiar, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why, only knowing that he'd seen that particular shade of green somewhere else before. 

Not that he really cared to find out where.

Sometimes the people spoke to him, but their words were all muddled and confused, sounding as if they were coming from somewhere deep underwater. He was too exhausted to try and listen to what they were actually saying. Once he had to wonder why he was so drained and confused, why it was so overwhelmingly difficult for him to concentrate on anything, and his eyes fell upon the IV drip standing nearby, an idle thought about drugs flitting through his tired mind.

He forgot it almost immediately.

The first time Chisaki was fully conscious wasn't pleasant. His body ached all over, a dull soreness radiating throughout his entire being and before he even knew it - he was leaning over the edge of whatever bed he was lying on, bile quickly rising in his throat and splattering against the polished floor beneath. Had he not been so out of it he would've been disgusted. Had he not been so delirious he would've certainly fought against the hands that were suddenly upon him, gently guiding him to lie back down, his mind screaming out in horror and quiet, broken whimpers leaving his pale lips.

The darkness that instantly overtook him the moment he settled was a welcome rescue from reality.

As his fever slowly receded over the next few days and he steadily grew stronger and was finally able to stay conscious for longer periods of time, he began to piece together where he was, the newfound knowledge doing absolutely nothing to put him more at ease.

A hospital. He was in a hospital, but... It had to be a hallucination of some sort. It wouldn't be the first time his mind played such cruel tricks upon him. Or this could be another lie. Yet another twisted mind game the villains were playing with him. It had to be. It simply couldn't be real. Dabi would never—

"—saki? I am detective Tsukauchi, I work with the Musutafu police force. How are you feeling?"

He looked up.

There was a man standing at the foot of his bed now, though he wasn't exactly sure when he'd come in. Dark eyes were watching him closely from beneath black strands of neatly combed hair, as if the newcomer were assessing him, trying to read his every move.

Chisaki didn't recognize him.

That was, admittedly, strange. Why would his mind conjure up someone he didn't even know all of a sudden?

"Like shit, thanks for asking."

He held his tongue though, never actually uttering the words aloud. Dabi always did hate when he talked back to him, after all...

"Has anyone ever told you just how disgusting your voice is, Princess?"

The door to the hospital ward slid open for a second time that day and another figure strode in, this one much taller and skinnier than the supposed detective. To his great surprise, Chisaki recognized the newcomer this time around, his golden eyes briefly widening and glimmering in recognition before dimming once more, the light that had so briefly reappeared within them going out as quickly as it had appeared. A fact that neither of the two men standing in front of him seemed to miss, the detective and the former number one sharing worried looks.

What was All Might doing here? Out of all people, Chisaki had never hallucinated him before. Why would he? It wasn't like he'd ever met him personally.

It wasn't like he was responsible for Chisaki's defeat...

"Do you know where you are?"

No, he did not. His first guess would normally be the new prison Dabi had moved him into as a taunt, keeping him imprisoned near his former home, thus forcing him to face the reality that even when he was so close to achieving freedom - he would never escape the villain's grasp. Not truly. But now he had to admit: he wasn't so sure.

"You are in UA High School, Chisaki. You were brought here after you were found near the former hideout of the Shie Hassaikai. Do you have any idea how you might have got there?"

Had Chisaki still been able to laugh he certainly would have. As it were, he had barely enough energy to keep his eyes open, much less express any emotion.

He should've known. Had this indeed been real, he would've found himself in a villain hospital, or perhaps even Tartarus' medical wing. Certainly not a hero high school. How sad. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but somehow it wasn't this. Perhaps for a moment there he'd actually allowed himself to hope that he'd been rescued. How foolish of him, how incredibly naive.

"You really think anyone will ever come to save filth like you? That you will ever be able to escape from me?"

Disappointment and something awfully akin to despair coiled bitterly within his chest.

Chisaki barely paid attention to the two visitors or their questions after that, his mind growing foggy and disconnected from the no doubt fabricated world surrounding him. Some words still reached him, along with small snatches of conversation: 'Found in critical condition', 'malnourishment', ' held captive'... 'League'...

Chisaki didn't bother reacting to any of them, finding himself suddenly much too drained to interact with one of the most pleasant hallucinations he'd had thus far, whatever energy he'd had having long since evaporated over the last half hour.

Instead, he found his gaze drifting to what little he could see of the sky outside of the hospital window, despite the nauseating brightness, his dim golden eyes watching the clouds sluggishly float overhead.

How long has it been since he'd last seen the sky? Felt the warmth of the sun and the soft brush of a breeze against his skin? Chisaki couldn't remember. His days of freedom seemed like nothing more than a distant, extravagant dream to him now. How amusing that he'd never cared for such trivialities before. Took them all for granted, far too busy trying to repay his adoptive father for all the kindness he'd shown him to properly appreciate them, but now he couldn't stop himself from longing to just walk outside and enjoy the simple things again.

Dabi would certainly laugh in his face if he knew. Taunt him. Tell him he was a fool. And maybe he was. His stupidity and arrogance were what landed him in the League's custody in the first place. The naive, erroneous belief that a filthy and diseased street rat like him would ever actually be worth something. Chisaki had learned of his grave misconceptions long ago. Dabi had made sure to educate him.

Noticing the way Chisaki's eyelids fluttered in visible exhaustion, the man looking like he was on the brink of losing consciousness again, Naomasa flipped his tattered notepad shut with a quiet sigh, gently slipping it into one of his coat pockets before facing the injured yakuza again.

"Well, I'll leave you to it for now. I wish you to get better soon, Chisaki. If you remember anything, please don't hesitate to call." 

He wasn't quite certain whether the former villain had even heard that last part, but he left his card there on the small bedside table regardless, even though this would be far from the last time the detective visited UA to question him.  

All Might was there waiting for him as he quietly slid the ward door shut behind him, his icy blue eyes raking over Naomasa's tired form, expression difficult to read even with Tsukauchi's vast experience. Recovery Girl was there too, sitting at her office table, the woman looking as if she were busy with paperwork, but he could tell by her tense posture that she was waiting for news as much as the former number one was, though she hid it considerably better than Toshinori did.

"Well? Has he said anything once I left?" 

The detective shook his head, a heavy hand rubbing at the back of his neck in an exhausted manner as he suddenly felt a desperate need of a good cup of coffee.

"No. I don't think he even heard most of what I said. Dissociation isn't an unexpected development, given the state he's in, but I'll be damned if it doesn't make our job that much harder. And here I actually thought we'd finally got a break in this godforsaken case."

"Do you really think it wise to keep pushing him like this?" Recovery Girl asked, finally looking up from her work and glancing over at the two of them. "Kai Chisaki is in an extremely fragile state as it is. He is in no condition to be answering questions. We keep putting pressure on him and we risk losing him entirely. What he needs right now is some time to get his bearings. Adjust. Recover from his injuries. He only recently began to come out of his medically induced coma. Give him some time to breathe—"

"Time that we don't have," Tsukauchi said, his voice a little sharper than he had intended for it to be. "With all due respect, there is a bunch of terrorists on the loose, planning God knows what which will undoubtedly result in thousands of casualties if we don't put a stop to it. Please forgive us for not having the time or patience to spend cosseting a villain."

A tense silence fell upon the nurse's office. Even All Might seemed somewhat taken aback by the detective's sudden aggression, having rarely seen his friend so irate, his blue eyes trained on Tsukauchi's form with obvious surprise.

"I'm sorry," Naomasa sighed at last, sagging where he stood and rubbing tiredly at his temples, exhaustion seeping into every line of his tense posture. He hadn't slept properly in days. He couldn't deal with this right now. "That was uncalled for. I'm just... I'd better head back to the precinct now anyway. Please give me a call if he... suddenly starts talking. The sooner we get some information out of him - the better."

And with that, he left, the door softly clicking shut behind him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It didn't take long for Deku to become a regular visitor in the villain's hidden ward. At this point Recovery Girl had long since given up on trying to keep him out, and if Mister Aizawa knew anything about his student's after school activities, well, he never said a word.

Some part of him felt guilty for hiding this from his teacher, from his friends. From Mirio and Eri. Felt disgusted with his actions, ashamed of his decision to help the very criminal who had brought so much pain and suffering upon the people closest to him. But he knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he left Chisaki to suffer now. That he would never be able to call himself a true hero knowing full well that he'd refused to help someone so clearly in distress, simply because of what had occurred between them in the past. And, though this was much harder for him to admit, he genuinely felt bad for Chisaki. Simply couldn't bear to see him so hurt and terrified. Wanted to see him get better and find his way back onto his feet.

Perhaps it was still his youth talking, his utter lack of experience and childish perception of the world. Perhaps he still naively hoped that some people could indeed be redeemed, that everyone deserved a second chance when that wasn't the case at all. Regardless of his reasoning - he knew he could not abandon the villain to his fate. That much was certain.

When he heard that Chisaki was finally coming out of his coma, he wasn't quite sure how to feel. At first he was relieved to hear the news. Then he felt apprehensive, the boy uncertain about how he would react to seeing the other actually awake. Would his feelings change then, when Chisaki was no longer unconscious? Would he decide to simply leave him to wallow in his pain and misery for what he did to Eri and Toogata three years ago?

There was only one way to find out, and so he found himself spending almost every evening at the villain's side, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

The first time Chisaki had opened his eyes in his presence - Izuku had found himself elated. Almost as if a massive weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, relief flowing through his veins at the faint glimpse of golden irises as the injured man briefly came to. It didn't last for long and soon Chisaki was unconscious again, but that did little to put a damper on the boy's happiness, the hero in training finding himself immensely relieved at seeing the other actually awake. Though that joy was short lived as it quickly became apparent that even when awake and lucid the other was hardly aware of his surroundings, his eyes dull and unseeing, as if he wasn't even mentally there at all.

"Dissociation" Recovery Girl had called it. A common defense mechanism for people like Chisaki who'd gone through extensive trauma, the villain protecting himself from what was happening to him by instinctively distancing himself from the real world. That didn't mean that he wasn't still aware of his surroundings on some level. No, he hadn't completely lost touch with reality. But he wasn't exactly there either, and actually interacting with Chisaki while he was in this state was still exceptionally difficult.

Deku would be lying if he said that it didn't disturb him, didn't make his heart shatter within his chest when the man looked at him without actually seeing him, no sign of recognition or even consciousness glimmering within those golden eyes, the look within them empty and hollow. As if Chisaki were somehow far away despite being right there with them, the man completely unresponsive to Izuku's many attempts to speak to him.

Even Eri had not been this way after her rescue.

The woman had tried to reassure him that they would be able to get him out of that disconnected state eventually. Once Chisaki realized that this was indeed real and not a fabrication of his own mind, that he was truly safe, he would start coming back to them little by little and they'd be able to take it from there. But it was still hard for Deku. Exceedingly difficult to watch.

Chisaki wouldn't talk, wouldn't show any signs of life. He was almost like a lifeless doll, lying motionlessly upon the hospital bed, his faint breathing and the steady beeping of the machines hooked up to him by far the only indications of him being alive at all.

The thought that this might've been the only reason he had managed to survive as long as he did while in the League's captivity sickened Deku.

A few times he thought Chisaki recognized him. Caught a glimpse of something flashing across the villain's face, some emotion that was there and gone within seconds, vanishing behind an emotionless mask before he could even begin to identify it. But those moments were few and far between, Chisaki still struggling to stay lucid for more than a few minutes, often succumbing to his exhaustion. A fact that Izuku had at first found worrisome as well, before being assured that it was normal, considering the sheer extent of his injuries.

Chisaki had had to go through multiple surgeries while in the villain hospital, and they, coupled with Recovery Girl's quirk and receding infection, were still putting quite a toll on his already weak and malnourished body. He would need all the rest he could possibly get to fully recover from his wounds, it wasn't surprising how exhausted he seemed to constantly be.

Especially considering how touch and go it had been for a while after his rescue, Chisaki apparently even flatlining during his short stay in the Musutafu villain hospital, in the first few days after his rescue.

Deku tried his hardest not to think about that, the thought of the man actually... dying somehow overwhelmingly difficult to imagine, not to mention comprehend. He might have good reasons to dislike Chisaki, perhaps even hate him, but that didn't necessarily mean he wanted him to die. He wouldn't wish that on anyone and the knowledge that Chisaki might not have survived his experience at all horrified him, caused intense hatred of the League to well within his chest, anger flowing through his veins.

How could anyone do this to another person?

The door slid aside with a soft whoosh of slightly stale air as the hero in training slowly stepped into the secluded ward, his green eyes immediately seeking out the medical bed and the villain stretched out upon it, his heart lifting for a split second before sinking once more.

Chisaki was already sitting up in his hospital bed, his back propped up comfortably against the pillows and headrest, clearly awake. Deku didn't have a clear view of his face from where he stood in the open doorway, the villain currently facing away from him, his vacant golden eyes fixed unblinkingly on the single window and the cerulean sky beyond it.

Izuku had noticed this trend in his behavior a while ago. Whenever he was awake and in less discomfort than usual Chisaki seemed to be drawn to what little he could see of the outside world, subconsciously inching himself closer to it, his eyes shuttering in contentment at the feeling of warm sunlight against his skin. Given that he probably hasn't felt it in years, the boy couldn't say he was all that surprised by his behavior.

Eri had been the same way.

Softly sliding the door shut behind him, the boy strode over to the medical bed standing in the middle of the small room and pulled over one of the chairs Recovery Girl had left for him, the woman having long since resigned herself to his regular visits. Chisaki barely reacted to the quiet noise, only shifting to sit a little more comfortably upon the soft mattress of his hospital bed, his hands folded within his lap in a fully relaxed manner. 

Izuku had to admit: it still felt somewhat bizarre to see him this way. To witness Chisaki so peaceful and at ease. He didn't believe he'd ever seen him like this, not even during their first meeting when the man had tried to feign amiability in order to retrieve Eri. In fact, the only expressions Izuku believed he could recall were those of psychopathic rage and desperation, mixed in with insanity. But now with Chisaki looking so calm, so relaxed, Deku couldn't help but think that the other didn't look all that terrifying, certainly not as nightmarish as he had remembered him to be three years ago. 

He looked almost soft like this, approachable, far from the ruthless and sadistic criminal he had used to be.

"Hey, Chisaki," he greeted quietly as he slipped into his seat at the villain's side, lowering his backpack so it sat on the floor right next to his feet, his green eyes trying to catch a glimpse of those familiar golden irises, the man's face still angled away from him. "How are you feeling?"

There was no reply to his gentle inquiry, but it wasn't like he'd expected one anyways. Chisaki had yet to interact with any of them, still withdrawing deep into himself whenever someone entered his room. As if automatically expecting the worst. As if waiting for them to inevitably resort to violence and instinctively distancing himself from the scene before they could inflict harm upon him. 

Given what he'd no doubt had to endure while in the League's so-called custody, Deku supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised. Pain must've long since become a part of Chisaki's daily life.

He forcefully suppressed the anger that instantly bloomed inside of him at the thought, his fingers curling into white-knuckled fists in his lap.

But... he would also be lying if he said it didn't frustrate him, didn't fill him with a wretched feeling of helplessness and even anger as Chisaki failed to respond to him, saying nothing even as Izuku tried his best to speak to him. He knew it wasn't the villain's fault, of course. It was an involuntary response, not under Chisaki's control. He knew giving into his frustration wouldn't do anything to help the situation and would perhaps only worsen the other's condition if he sensed his displeasure, prompting the other to retreat even further into himself. And that could screw up the entire investigation, robbing the heroes of the perfect opportunity to take down the League of Villains.

And yet... sometimes he just couldn't help it. Couldn't help but ask himself what he was doing wrong, his sudden incompetency to help someone so clearly in need eating away at his heart and soul.

"Why won't you talk to me, Chisaki?"

Hesitating for a few seconds, wondering whether what he was about to do was extremely stupid, the boy slowly reached out, his fingertips brushing lightly against the man's shoulder. Maybe this would help give the jolt the villain so desperately needed when all else failed, the gentle demonstration of comfort and support encouraging him to break out of the shell he had retreated into. 

Chisaki had to know that he was safe, that it was okay to talk to them.

The effect was almost immediate.

Golden eyes, wide and terrified abruptly snapped towards him, and before Deku even knew what was happening - he was being violently shoved away, Chisaki lurching from his bed in a mess of flailing limbs and blankets, the shrill sounds of the cardiac monitor failing to cover up the sickening crunch and hoarse cry of pain as the villain's wounds reopened from the impact, crimson staining his hospital gown and dripping sluggishly to the polished floor.

Horrified, Izuku clumsily stumbled to his feet and made his way around the hospital bed, his arm outstretched in the villain's direction - only that seemed to frighten him even more as the man instantly scrambled away from him in blind terror, his back slamming against the wall and hand rising into the air as if to slap against the floor in a manner the teen was already awfully familiar with.

Deku froze where he stood, green lightning dancing over his skin as One for All came to life on instinct, realization crashing down upon him like a sack of bricks at the distinct lack of quirk-repellent cuffs around Chisaki's wrists.

He was going to activate his quirk!

Only... Nothing happened when he did. Chisaki's palm slammed against the floor, but no spikes formed from the concrete beneath them, the surface remaining as smooth and solid as ever. 

Chisaki's quirk had failed.

His breath catching within his throat in surprise, words suddenly failing him, Izuku could only watch in shock and growing horror as Chisaki seemed to visibly crumble at the realization, his features twisting uncontrollably in despair, crystalline tears welling in the corners of his eyes and quickly trickling down, his bloodied chest heaving in ragged, desperate sobs. 

"I'm sorry!" He gasped, his voice rough and words barely decipherable as he curled up where he sat trembling against the wall, fingers digging ruthlessly into his chestnut hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" His eyes slid shut, no longer looking at Deku, face burying itself into his knees, the man almost seeming to fold in on himself then and there, shaking uncontrollably. "Please, I'm sorry. I won't... I didn't mean it..." A strangled sob left Chisaki's trembling lips, his skin almost ghostly pale as more blood seeped from his open wounds, forming a small but quickly growing puddle beneath his shaking body. 

"Please don't... Dabi..."

Before Deku could do much else the door to the hospital suddenly slammed open and figures were rushing past him, the strong form of Vlad King instantly pushing Chisaki to the ground and holding him down by the wrists, the villain twisting and thrashing weakly in his grasp, terrified cries and heartbreaking sobs wrenching themselves from his heaving chest. Recovery Girl was at their side in a flash, her fingers already fiddling with a syringe as the UA teacher did his best to keep the panicking man still, his knees planting themselves firmly on Chisaki's body as he rolled up one of the latter's sleeves, giving the school nurse ample and easy access to his arm.

Deku's breath hitched.

"Wait! Don't hurt him—!"

Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders before he could rush to the villain's aid, Izuku twisting in the foreign grasp, his wide, emerald eyes meeting Aizawa's angry, glowing red. 

The teacher said something to him then, his tone furious, but Deku was no longer listening, the world around him becoming muddled and confused, the only thing his mind could focus on becoming the weakly struggling form lying collapsed on the hospital floor and the blood seeming to stain it in permanent red. 

When he spoke again Izuku swore he felt his voice crack.

"Don't hurt him..."

Chapter Text

"What did you think you were doing, Midoriya?"

Aizawa's voice was quiet. Too quiet.

The apparent lack of any emotion was unsettling, nerve-wracking, the boy suddenly finding himself unable to meet his homeroom teacher's gaze.

He could tell that the man was angry. How could he not be? After the way Izuku lied to him, failed to mention his evening visits to the very villain who had nearly killed him three years ago, as well unintentionally caused said villain's breakdown. There was nothing he could really say in his defense, no lie he could possibly come up with that would satisfy all the teachers present, and so he remained still and silent, his head bowed down to the floor in shame.

Aizawa heaved a heavy sigh beside him as the silence stretched out between them for what appeared to be ages, his long fingers dragging down his face in visible exhaustion. "How long has this been going on?" ' How long have you been lying to me?' was left unsaid, yet heard by Deku clearly.

"A few weeks," Izuku whispered, his voice dangerously faint. "Ever since All Might told me about your investigation into the League of Villains."

Aizawa's eyes glowed briefly red. He turned away from Deku, his sharp gaze falling on one of the other two occupants of the silent room. "And you didn't think to tell me about this?"

All Might shifted uncomfortably where he stood leaned against the opposite wall, his arms crossed tightly over his thin chest and his expression unusually stern as he watched his quiet protege, the look in his blue eyes unreadable. "It was my belief that young Midoriya deserved to know why we were endangering everyone on the campus, including his friends, by bringing Kai Chisaki here. I did not expect him to decide to keep visiting him."

Shouta shot him a scathing look.

"And once the cameras and Recovery Girl informed you of his behavior you didn't think of putting a stop to it? Because of your strange reluctance to interfere, my student could have been seriously harmed today. Had you been wrong about Chisaki's inability to access his quirk, Midoriya could have sustained grave injuries trying to subdue him. You knowingly put him in danger for some sort of misguided experiment when our first duty is to ensure our students' safety!"

The world around him seemed to reel to a sudden stop. Deku practically felt his blood run cold at those uttered words, his insides freezing with shock and his astonished gaze never leaving his teacher's face, searching for any possible sign of deception.

Chisaki could no longer access his quirk? But... How was that possible? Had the League used his own bullets against him?

He was so shocked by the sudden knowledge that he almost missed the rest of the conversation.

"The decision to sanction Izuku Midoriya's visits to the villain formerly known as 'Overhaul' was mine, Professor Aizawa," Nezu said calmly from where he sat at his office table, his fingers stapling together in front of him upon its polished surface. He looked exhausted, far more worn out than usual. Though, admittedly, it was rather difficult to tell what emotion the Principal was feeling at any given moment. Not only because of his beastly features, but also because of his startling aptitude for hiding his thoughts from those around him. Even after three years Deku still hadn't figured out how to read him.

"It was my belief that with so many unknown faces surrounding him, it would be highly unlikely for Kai Chisaki to respond to our efforts, instead choosing to distance himself from reality as a way of shielding himself from further harm, thus remaining well beyond our reach. As we have already seen him do. It was my hope that the presence of Midoriya in his direct proximity would stir a reaction, whether a negative or a positive, and bring him out of his dissociative state to provide information. And as you can see - it worked as we now have direct confirmation that Chisaki was indeed held by at least one League of Villains' member: Dabi, or as he has also been referred to - the villain Blueflame."

"So you put my student in danger... brought him near the very person who had nearly killed him three years ago," Aizawa said with visible disgust, a dangerous growl just barely permeating his frosty voice, "for names?! "

Nezu shot him a level look, though there was a definite glimmer of an apology swimming within those beady black eyes now.

"The wellbeing of UA's students is still my utmost priority, professor Aizawa," he said calmly, somehow managing to bear the full brunt of the man's glower without so much as a twitch, looking as calm and collected as ever. Deku couldn't help but envy his equanimity. He'd never found it an easy feat to keep his composure under pressure. Especially not with Aizawa glaring at him like that. "Izuku Midoriya was never in any true danger. All of his visits were heavily monitored, with heroes, including Recovery Girl, standing by in order to safely subdue Chisaki, should the villain become unstable. As was proven by today's events."

"And you failed to inform me of this, because you assumed, correctly, that I would interfere with your scheming?"

Nezu nodded. "That's right."

Aizawa's gaze somehow hardened at that response even more.

"You are aware that this plan might have backfired on you, right?" He said at last, an undeniable edge still very much prevalent within his cold voice. "It was risky to begin with. But allowing a person with next to no training or experience in handling trauma near a victim of extreme violence... It was a disaster waiting to happen. How do you know that when Chisaki finally wakes he won't be even more withdrawn than before? Because of Midoriya's actions today, he might never speak to us again."

Deku hung his head at those words, his eyes burning with the effort of keeping tears at bay as guilt and shame welled up within him once more, leaving a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It was true, he couldn't deny it. Mister Aizawa was absolutely right... There was no guarantee that Chisaki would ever be able to trust any of them enough to speak to them now. Not after the way Izuku had startled him, had invaded his privacy and personal space without permission, had reminded him of the very people that had tormented him for so long.

He was no better than Dabi.

"It's true," Nezu admitted, his eyes falling to his laced paws. "This plan was a gamble with no guaranteed outcome. It is very possible that we shall never be able to earn Kai Chisaki's trust again. However," he added after a slight pause, a flicker of new emotion sparking within his dark eyes, "there was no guarantee that he would speak to us even before his breakdown, and we're already well behind the villains we are trying to apprehend as it were. We can no longer afford to play it safe, it's all or nothing now. Certain calculated risks must be taken, otherwise we cannot hope to ever catch up to them in time. Seeing how he played an instrumental role in defeating him, Izuku Midoriya is the most likely person for Kai Chisaki to respond to, besides perhaps Mirio Toogata. Which is why, if he accepts, I believe he should continue with his visits in hopes of getting through to him before it's far too late."

Deku felt his insides do a sharp somersault at that, his throat choking up with emotions he couldn't immediately name as he gratefully looked up at the school Principal, a faint sense of unbridled hope blooming within his chest. He could still help Chisaki! He was going to be allowed to keep seeing him!

From the corner of his eyes he could see surprise spread across his mentor's face, All Might nearly gaping at Nezu from his spot against the wall, clearly taken aback by the proposition as well. Aizawa, on the other hand, looked far from happy, his gaze as cold as ice.

"Absolutely not."

Izuku's eyes snapped to his teacher. "But sir—!"

"No." Aizawa snapped, his voice firm, black eyes glaring at him from over his right shoulder. "I will not be putting you in danger again. Nezu might think you're a worthy sacrifice." The man shot the Principal a decidedly dirty look. "But I still know where my priorities lie. You may not be as much of a child anymore, that much is true, but you are still underage and inexperienced and should not be burdened with such a responsibility. Kai Chisaki's case should be handled by Pro Heroes, and Pro Heroes alone . Not a highschool student with limited field experience. Furthermore, you most certainly should not be forced to spend time with a person you have such a troubled history with. That villain nearly killed you. Caused you pain. You should not be forced to be anywhere near him."

"But I want to be there for Chisaki!" Izuku argued desperately, turning his emerald gaze upon his teacher, voice earnest. "I want to help him through this. I can't just leave him like this!" Especially since none of you have any true plans of helping him, he added silently with a note of bitterness that surprised even himself, his fingers discreetly curling into tight fists.

Aizawa's gaze softened. Just a fraction.

"He is not your responsibility, Midoriya," he said, his voice a lot gentler than it had been mere seconds ago. "You are under no obligation to take care of him."

But somehow Izuku knew that wasn't quite true. In a way… Chisaki had always been his responsibility, even before he'd accidentally stumbled upon him in Recovery Girl's office. Ever since their first meeting, in fact. Somehow he'd always had a feeling he would end up facing off against Chisaki, that it would be up to him to rescue Eri and bring the villain down once and for all. And then, after learning of Chisaki's abduction, he'd known that it was his fault that Shigaraki had managed to get his hands on him.

Aizawa may have tried to convince him that he wasn't to blame, but it didn't change the fact that if he'd done something differently then it could've all been avoided. If he'd just gone straight to the police, informed them of their sightings of known League of Villains' members, and requested them to take extra precautions rather than just travel with a single Pro Hero - then all of this might not have ever happened. Snatch wouldn't have died, and Overhaul wouldn't have been subjected to horrors beyond comprehension, leaving him as a mere shell of the man he had used to be. 

"I didn't mean it!" Chisaki's voice rang within his ears, broken and so overwhelmingly terrified. Deku's eyes momentarily slid shut, his heart clenching painfully within his chest at the memories of glistening tears trickling down the villain's gaunt, fear-stricken face. "Please don't... Dabi ..." 

But he'd been too preoccupied. Simply too concerned with Eri and Nighteye and the others to even remember such a seemingly small and insignificant detail. Too busy caring for his fellow heroes to spare even a single thought on the criminal he had just defeated. And because of his blunder, other people had been seriously hurt.

Chisaki's suffering was on his conscience. And his alone.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice so low that the other occupants of the room had to strain their ears to hear him. "I know I don't have to care for him, especially not after the way he had treated others. Eri. Mirio. Sir Nighteye... But..." Deku took a shuddering breath, silently steeling himself to continue, forcefully meeting Nezu's beady black eyes, the Principal now watching him with undisguised interest. "Ever since I was a kid I've dreamt of saving people. I wanted to save them with a smile. No matter what obstacles lay in my way. Just like All Might once had... Chisaki has done a lot of terrible things - I'm not denying or excusing that. Some of the crimes he committed I'll never be able to forgive or forget for as long as I live. However, when I came to UA I promised myself... That I would become a hero who saves everybody ."

From the corner of his eyes he could see All Might shift, his mentor watching him carefully, though from this angle he couldn't really see the emotions travelling across the man's face, much less guess what he was thinking. Even so, Izuku forcibly paid no attention to him, all of his focus converging only on the small form of the school Principal sitting before him. Almost as if his world had suddenly narrowed to just the two of them.

"So... If I walk away from Chisaki now, a person who's in so much pain, who's suffering so much and pleading for someone to come and rescue him, simply because of what had happened between us in the past... then how can I really call myself that? How can I be that someone for other people? How can I truly call myself... a hero who saves everybody ?"

"That's who I'm gonna be."

Silence fell upon the Principal's office, undisturbed save for the quiet rustling of a breeze threading through thin tree branches outside, the three adults watching the determined youth closely. He didn't need to look to know that there was shock on All Might and Aizawa's faces now, the pro heroes clearly not expecting such a response. But he wasn't looking at them, studiously avoiding their eyes, knowing full well that he would lose his confidence if he did so now when it was so important for him to show his resolution, his absolute determination to be the hero Chisaki needed him to be.

Izuku could've sworn he'd seen Nezu's lips twitch in a faint smile.

"Well there you have it." The Principal said with a note of satisfied finality in his voice, leaning back in his chair. "It would appear that there's nothing we can do that will change Midoriya's mind. He is fully determined to aid Kai Chisaki in his recovery, and who are we to stand in the way of such noble intention? Unless... you're still determined to try and stop him?"

Aizawa didn't reply for a long time, merely turning to face his student once more, his black eyes boring deeply into emerald green. Several emotions flashed over the man's face then. A mix of pride, guilt and frustration, fondness and understanding. Emotions that were usually hidden from Deku's view, kept carefully under control. It was startling to witness to say the least, and some part of Izuku was relieved when the other finally turned away, while the other longed to see something other than impassiveness directed at him once more. 

The last time Aizawa had looked at Deku like that had been three years ago, before the Shie Hassaikai raid, when the man had knelt before him and told him that he'd be watching him, and had encouraged him to keep looking forward. Because even though he hadn't been able to hold onto Eri... He had still given her hope. Hope that she will one day be rescued. Hope that she will someday be freed from the hell she had been forced to live in for so long.

And now I'll do the same for you, Chisaki, Deku thought to himself, his jaw setting in determination. Chisaki's face flashed before his eyes once more, ghostly pale and terrified, streaked with blood. I may have made a mistake with you today... but I will not let you down again. I can promise you that. I'm going to save you!

Before he could head back to the dorms after Nezu's quiet dismissal, however, a hand settled lightly upon his shoulder, gently stopping him in the middle of the darkened hallway, and he turned around, his surprised, green gaze meeting Aizawa's black one. Neither All Might, nor Nezu had followed them outside, the two obviously intent on discussing the matter further without Deku present. Had Aizawa really gone after him instead of sticking around to listen?

"Can I have a word with you, Midoriya?" The man asked quietly, and, now feeling quite nervous and on edge, Izuku quickly nodded, following his teacher to the few lounge areas scattered across the school building.

The sky outside the glass windows spanning the entire wall overlooking the small sitting area had long since lost its pale hues. The sun had set while he was in Nezu's office, casting the world surrounding them in deep shadows. Numerous stars sparkled in the dark heavens overhead, swimming in a pool of deep violet and navy. Through the downy clouds floating leisurely above, he could just barely glimpse the faint glow of the rising moon.

Deku had forgotten the last time he'd fully appreciated a sunset like this. Couldn't recall the last time he'd simply stood by the window, and drunk in the world's beauty. Too wrapped up in his worries, he'd long since given up on the more trivial pleasures of existence, had long since forgotten what it felt like to just stand there... and take it all in. Was this what Chisaki had felt like when he'd first seen the sky after so many years? Was this what was drawing his gaze every time he was awake, no matter how much pain he found himself in? After being trapped in darkness for so long, beaten, burned, branded, tormented in increasingly horrifying ways - how had his viewpoint been forced to change? What could he now see that all of them had long since forgotten to look for? To enjoy?

Shaking his head, Deku forcefully tore his gaze away from the glass wall separating the lounge from the world surrounding it, his eyes meeting Aizawa's as both of them slowly made their way over to the plush sofas and sat across from each other, the soft cushions dipping beneath their respective weights.

For a long time neither of them spoke, silently watching each other with visible caution, Deku unable to stop himself from wondering what this was all about.

Aizawa seemed to visibly deflate where he sat on the moonlit sofa as the silence stretched on between them, his hands clasping together in front of him and his black eyes peering at his student intently from beneath a dark curtain of shaggy hair. Despite his efforts, Deku could not read the emotion now glistening within them.

When the man finally spoke, however, his voice was soft, quiet, barely audible, the hero in training leaning forward in his seat, trying his best to catch the words that were being said. 

"You can't save everyone, Problem Child. You realize that, don't you?" 

Deku's breath hitched, confusion and something awfully close to hurt welling uncontrollably within his chest. 

Out of all people, besides perhaps All Might, he'd thought that his teacher would understand .

"If this is about what he did—"

"No, it's not about that," Aizawa sighed, dragging a heavy hand down his lined face. Izuku was suddenly starkly aware of how exhausted the man looked, heavy bags lying beneath his eyes and fatigue clear in every line of his lean body. "It's about the possibility that Chisaki might just be too far gone for you to save."

For a moment he forgot how to breathe. It was as if all the air had suddenly been forced from his lungs, leaving him breathless and gasping, almost like he was suffocating. His mouth felt dry, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow as he forced himself to speak, his voice shaky despite his best efforts of keeping it steady. "W-What? I don't..."

Aizawa's gaze was sympathetic.

"Look, I've seen people like him before, kid," he said, his voice quiet, unusually gentle. "During my work as an underground hero. I've seen the kind of toll an experience like that can take on a person, seen the kind of things news channels don't usually talk about. And for good reason. You can't even imagine the things he's been put through in those three years. Half of what he's been subjected to would've driven a much stronger person past their breaking point. It wouldn't surprise me if Chisaki never fully recovered from his experience. He's already in a state of near catatonia as it is, and... well, let's just say that he might get even worse from here on out. To the point that he might even find himself not willing to live anymore."

Deku's fingers clenched, nails digging almost ruthlessly into the folds of his uniform slacks. His throat flexed in a heavy swallow. "What do you mean he won't—? I—"

"If you're really determined to help him, then whatever happens," Aizawa continued, his voice gentle, but firm. "I want you to know that it's not your fault. All right, Problem Child? Whatever was done to Chisaki in the past, whatever he decides to do to himself now - is not a consequence of your actions. The only people to blame for this are the League of Villains... Understand?"

"I still could've still done something ," Deku argued, his voice cracking. "I could've made sure the police knew Shigaraki could be coming after him. I could've asked them to bring a few more pro Heroes with them. If I hadn't been so distracted... If I'd just done my job ... Snatch wouldn't have died. So many innocent police officers wouldn't be injured. And Chisaki... Chisaki wouldn't be..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Even so, Aizawa seemed to understand him.

A warm hand settled lightly on his shoulder, bringing him out of his increasingly dark thoughts, and Deku reluctantly looked up, wet, emerald eyes meeting black.

"It's not your fault, kid," the man repeated, his voice steady. "No one can accurately foretell the future. Even Nighteye, as proven by your victory on the day of the raid. Even if you had done something differently - there's no guarantee that it would've changed anything. Perhaps no one would've ended up getting hurt. Or maybe there would be even more casualties to speak of today. You can't hold yourself accountable for every little thing, Midoriya. You're just human."

There were tears welling in the corners of his eyes now, blurring his vision. He made no move to wipe them away, allowing them to spill freely on to his cheeks, falling to the floor between them. 

"The only thing you can do... The only thing anyone can really do... is keep looking forward and not linger on past mistakes. You may not have saved Eri the first time you encountered her - yet you still gave her hope of rescue. You may not have taken the measures that could've prevented Chisaki's capture - but that doesn't mean that you can't still try and change his fate now, as hopeless of a task as it appears to be. And even if it doesn't work out - I want you to know that I'm proud that you at least tried, when so many Pro heroes found that they couldn't find enough compassion within their hearts to do so. Not for him. Including me."

Deku looked up, shock evident in every line of his face. Aizawa was no longer looking at him, his black eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet. If Izuku didn't know any better, he'd say that his teacher looked almost... guilty. Certainly contrite.

"What are you—?"

Aizawa shook his head, and the hero in training went silent, his fists balling in the folds of his school uniform. "Again, if you've really decided to try and help Chisaki - I won't try and stop you. But what happened today can't happen again. If your heart's indeed set on saving him - you gotta do it right this time. And I'll watch you. Every step of the way. All right, Problem Child?"

His fist brushed against the center of Deku's chest, the gesture starkly reminiscent of the one three years ago, mere days before the Hassaikai raid. His throat suddenly feeling tight, a myriad of emotions bubbling within his chest, Izuku found himself nodding before he could think twice about his teacher's words, not yet trusting himself to speak.

Aizawa allowed himself a small smile as he finally rose from his seat, his black eyes twinkling in the moonlight gently filtering through the adjacent windows.

"Good."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Recovery Girl wouldn't let him anywhere near Chisaki's ward for the next several weeks.

From what Deku had been able to gather, she was still upset over Nezu's decision to permit his participation in the villain's recovery, believing that it wasn't a task a high schooler should be delegated with. Voluntarily or not. Furthermore, she didn't believe that it would be wise to allow Deku near Chisaki so soon, especially not after the way he had startled him and inadvertently caused a flashback which sent the man spiralling into panic. She seemed to think it best if he were not present the next few times the injured villain regained consciousness, and were gradually reintroduced under her close supervision once the man had regained a sense of safety and security in his current surroundings. All of which left the boy with a lot of free time, Izuku burying himself in his studies, but more often than not finding his thoughts straying to Chisaki and what Aizawa had told him on that fateful evening.

Determined not to repeat the same mistake he had made last time and set Chisaki's recovery back by weeks, Izuku soon found himself spending a lot of time in the school library, rifling through the medical section and trying to read up as much as he could about trauma. Which proved exceptionally difficult. He wasn't quite sure whether what he had managed to find would even turn out to be all that useful in the end, but he supposed he'd try it anyway. 

He'd do anything if it meant helping Chisaki. 

Which currently found him with his nose buried deep in his notes at the lunch table, the hero in training finding himself zoning out of the cheerful conversations going on around him. 

Chisaki reacted adversely to my touch, meaning it's one of his triggers that I should avoid from now on at all costs. I should've guessed that he wouldn't respond to it well, it was reported even before the raid that he appeared to be suffering from a severe case of mysophobia. And judging by the sheer magnitude of his reaction, it's probably safe to say that whenever he was touched - it wasn't with any good intention. Chisaki was absolutely terrified when I tried to reach out to him. But, the good news is that he seems to be more alert now. Recovery Girl says that he's been trying to pay more attention lately, ever since he woke up after the incident, and sometimes even reacts to her presence, though as of right now it's only non-verbally. She's hoping that with some gentle encouragement, he will start talking to us soon. It seems that my actions have managed to stir him out of his dissociative state, even if only to pay better attention to his surroundings and avoid punishment. The League no doubt wanted him to be present and aware when they hurt him, which is why he could be acting this way... But this also makes me think: did they force Chisaki to be quiet? Punish him for speaking? He seems very reluctant to talk, even though he's certainly not mute... But why would they do that? Were they afraid of being discovered? All Might did mention that Chisaki had apparently been moved before he was found... Could it be that they're hiding somewhere where they could be found by other people? Their last hideout was an abandoned bar in Kamino... Or am I perhaps reading too much into it? Eri had been quiet too... She barely made any sound, even when she was hurt. Especially when she was hurt. Could this be a common reaction? Or is it conditioned? I'll have to try and find out more...

"OI! Quit your muttering you damn nerd! You're ruining lunch for everyone!" An irate voice snapped at him, and Izuku couldn't stop himself from jumping in his seat, looking up from the tattered pages of his notebook, and suddenly coming face to face with several perplexed pairs of eyes.

Oh, he'd been muttering again...

Feeling hot beneath his collar, embarrassment washing over him, Izuku quickly slammed his new notebook shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what he was working on, quietly slipping it into his backpack. Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka were still staring at him with concern, though thankfully the others seemed to have already moved on, chalking it up to his usual episode of overanalyzing something or other. For a moment he was under the impression that Bakugo was watching him as well - but when he turned to glance at him, the blonde was already turned away, grumpily stabbing at his food with a fork.

Izuku wondered if the boy thought the beef on his plate could be murdered a second time.

"Are you okay, Deku?" Uraraka ventured quietly, her soft brown eyes crinkled in worry. "You've been acting kind of strange lately... Well, stranger than usual." She finished, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, the girl quickly turning back to her food, trying to hide her obvious sheepishness.

"Don't be ridiculous, Uraraka," Iida said energetically, nearly knocking over his glass of water with the force of his enthusiastic hand chopping motions, Deku quickly pulling his own closer to him before his classmate could accidentally upend it. "I'm sure that if Midoriya were feeling unwell he would tell his classmates all about it! It is his duty as our trusted comrade and closest friend to be truthful with us about important matters! He would not keep secrets. Right, Midoriya?" The spectacled boy asked, turning to face his skittish friend.

Deku's heart sank. 

Iida trusted him to be honest with them no matter the situation, trusted him to tell them if anything was troubling him. Had faith that he would never keep secrets from any of his classmates, especially not ones that could potentially endanger their lives. And yet... Here he was. Helping a former criminal and working on a confidential case centered around the League of Villains, unable to confide in the very people he had gone through so many things together with. They trusted him to never lie, and yet that was exactly what he was about to do: lie and keep Chisaki's existence hidden from them for as long as he possibly could.

What would Iida say when he eventually learned the truth? When the heroes had finally apprehended the League of Villains and Deku's involvement in the case came to light? What would Uraraka say? Todoroki? Any one of them? Would they be disgusted? Would they hate him for lying to them so blatantly when they had put their faith in him? Would they despise him for helping Chisaki? All of them had met Eri, and had gotten attached to her. Treasured and cared for her with all their hearts, ready to take on anyone who dared to harm her. What would they say when they learned of Izuku's betrayal, of the way he had comforted and supported the very person who had once turned that innocent girl's life into a living hell?

Suddenly feeling sick, Deku sharply rose from his seat, nearly knocking it over in the process and hastily grabbed for his backpack, slinging it over one trembling shoulder.

"Oh, I just remembered! I forgot to hand in an assignment to Present Mic! Sorry, gotta go!" And with that, he practically fled the school cafeteria, weaving between the multitude of tables packed with chatting students, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Although, before it closed, he could've sworn he'd caught a glimpse of red eyes watching him go...

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Chisaki had looked a lot like Eri had after her rescue. 

Even before the other regained consciousness Deku had been struck by the similarities between them, the startling likeness that chilled him to his very core, the horrifying sight sending shivers running down his spine. 

During the first few weeks, Chisaki had struggled to breathe just like Eri had. Fighting off an infection while in such a weak state wasn't an easy feat, after all. More often than not Deku had found himself worrying that Eri would suffocate, his heart clenching painfully within his chest as she gasped for breath, the air rattling within her lungs and sweat glistening upon her unhealthily pale skin.

Chisaki had been little different, if not even worse.

His gasps were shallower, and much more faint. A lot of times it was difficult to tell if he was breathing at all, Izuku worrying that he had stopped altogether, his anxious gaze searching the nearby machines for any abnormalities. And while Eri had still been underweight for her age, she could never quite be described as malnourished. Abnormally thin, yes, but far from the bag of bones Chisaki had become... 

His throat flexing in a heavy swallow, Deku sagged in his seat at his dorm room desk, trying to banish the upsetting images of the villain lying there, looking so fragile, so small, his face twisted involuntarily in pain even while unconscious, the villain fidgeting where he lay as if in some weak attempt of escaping from an unseen foe. 

It would seem that even when forced into a coma through drugs - Chisaki still couldn't fully escape his nightmares.

Quite a few times Deku had caught the man whimpering in his sleep, much like Eri once had, though he was much quieter than she had ever been, the sounds barely audible, yet somehow overwhelmingly difficult to block out. He had tried to soothe Chisaki each time, even though he knew it would only be a temporary relief. The night terrors would come again, and they would be much worse than they were initially. There was nothing he could do to stop them, only able to watch in helpless silence as they came to torment Chisaki again and again, as if the pain the villain was already enduring wasn't enough, as if his punishment for all the crimes he'd ever committed were somehow insufficient. He rarely cried though... Not as often as Eri had. But that was a small consolation. If any.

Dragging a heavy hand down his face, the boy tried not to think about how the dark bruises littering the villain's skin were so much like the ones scattered across Eri's arms and legs, criss-crossing with old scars Chisaki simply hadn't bothered to erase, the yakuza purposely leaving the girl with horrific reminders of what she'd been forced to go through.

The flash of anger coursing through his veins was brief and left him exhausted.

But despite his feelings on the matter, the similarities were undeniable, and when Chisaki had finally opened his eyes in his presence... Izuku had sworn he'd seen them change from dim golden to Eri's red.

However... this could simply be his imagination, his compassion getting in the way of rational thought, couldn't it? He'd promised to save everybody, but did that really mean everybody? Did Chisaki really need saving? Was he indeed asking for help? Or was Izuku perhaps simply imagining it? Seeing what he wanted to see, rather than what was real?

Was Chisaki really a victim? Or was he simply a person who'd got what was long coming to him? Did he really need his help? Was he really worth it? Worth lying to his friends, worth deceiving Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, Mirio, Eri - everyone , just to help him?

Had Deku made the wrong decision? Nezu hadn't thought so. Neither had Aizawa, even though he clearly did not like the idea. But even so… was this really—

Giving help that's not asked for... is what makes a true hero.

The quiet, familiar words rang through his mind suddenly, without warning, his fingers curling tightly around the notes he had made to help with Chisaki's condition, his green eyes going wide.

Chisaki had not asked for his help, not in so many words, that much was true. Yet that did not mean that he didn't need it. That Izuku's decision had been misguided. That the villain deserved to be abandoned by hero society, as he had almost been before Deku had found out about his existence. And if doing the right thing when no one else would meant lying to those closest to him, lying to the very people Chisaki had once hurt... Well... It would seem that everything came with a heavy price. In this unjust society where people were not born equal, where quirks decided everything, who you would be, what you would eventually become - that was one of the earliest lessons Deku had ever been forced to learn.

Helping him wouldn't be easy, Aizawa had made that clear. Deku could end up being despised by people he cared most for, but… he'd made the choice to save Chisaki. To be the hero the villain needed him to be, the hero Izuku had always wanted to become since he was a child. And he would see this decision through if it was the last thing he did.

I promised I wouldn't let you down again, Chisaki...

His phone buzzed quietly beside him, tearing him from his increasingly feverish thoughts and Deku sharply looked up, relieved for the brief distraction, his fingers curling around the sleek smartphone and bringing it up to his eyes. 

His brows furrowed.

A new message? Who could be writing to him at this hour?

His thumb swiping in an arch over the smooth screen, the boy brought up the latest texts, his heart jumping to his throat at the words displayed there.

(22:34) Hey! We still up for Saturday? I know Eraserhead's been running you guys ragged lately, but Eri's been dying to see you! She hasn't seen you in ages. She also has a surprise waiting for you the next time you two meet. Don't ask me what it is, I promised I wouldn't tell ;) Well, let me know as soon as you can, kay? 

A small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Deku's thumb moved to type a confirmation, the boy already envisioning a happy afternoon spent in Eri's presence, when...

"Please... Please don't go..."

His finger stilled above the keyboard, the tiny grin vanishing from his face as quickly as it had appeared. Ruby eyes flashed across his vision, wet with tears and framed by unkempt silver hair. 

There was so much fear within them... so much pain.

"We're wondering if this Chisaki bastard is turning his daughter's body into bullets, and selling them on the black market..."

"Ah, yes. It's so much easier to be hurt yourself than to watch as others are hurt for you, isn't it?.."

Bile rose in his throat, his chest suddenly feeling tight. The thought of being anywhere near Eri, to bask in her presence all the while knowing what he did, whom he'd been visiting and trying to help over the past several weeks — was suddenly no longer enjoyable... made him feel sick. As if there was some disease crawling beneath his skin. Making him feel tainted with something so vile, so wrong.

He couldn't bear the thought of seeing her, knowing what he had willingly agreed to… Didn't have the arrogance, the conceit to believe that he deserved to be in her presence now... Not when he had made the decision he did.

His thumb moved of its own accord, quickly typing a reply before he could possibly change his mind, his insides clenching painfully as he did so.

(22:45) Hey! I think I'm gonna have to pass this time, I'm swamped... Say hi to Eri for me, and that... I'm sorry I won't be able to see her this week

The reply came almost immediately, as if Mirio had been waiting for his text.

(22:46) No problem, man! I'm sure she'll understand. Just remember to take a break now and then, ok? I know you're trying to be a good hero, but even heroes need to take it easy sometimes :)

The screen went dark and Deku finally set his phone down that night, his heart feeling heavier than ever.

Chapter Text

He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd been imprisoned here. No light reached the dingy basement he'd been unceremoniously thrown into, by far the only source of any brightness becoming the narrow gap between the door and the cracked stone steps leading up to it. Chisaki had long since given up on trying to keep track of the passing days. After all, what point was there to do so? It wasn't like he was ever getting out of this alive. He'd known that the moment the League had abducted him from that express highway. The moment they'd tossed him into their truck. Had known that the second he entered their hideout - he would be lost forever. Would never again see the light of day.

His stomach clenched painfully with hunger, roiling uncomfortably as if it were trying to digest itself in some last bid for sustenance, and his throat burned with desperate thirst. The League rarely came over to feed him, only forcing the bare minimum down his throat every few days in order to keep him alive. Painfully prying his jaws apart when he tried to resist, shoving in pitiful scraps of food and stale water until he choked on both... He would've preferred it if they hadn't. He'd rather take the long, painful process of starvation over being repeatedly hurt and humiliated at their hands any day. And it wasn't like he had much left to live for anyway.

Everything worth living for had long since been taken away from him. The day he had been defeated by that infected child-hero, and everything he'd spent so painstakingly building up - mercilessly stripped away.

But the aches and pains of an empty stomach were by far the least of his concerns at the moment.

His body hurt. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't throb in dull agony, the sharp aches in his chest and the sudden difficulty to breathe making him suspect cracked ribs, dark bruises snaking across his skin, making him look like someone had splattered him in ugly, purple paint. Shigaraki had stubbornly insisted on visiting him almost daily to 'question' him, seemingly reluctant to hand him over to his subordinates so easily. Before he'd had his fun. Sometimes he was accompanied by Compress. As much as the flamboyant, self-proclaimed magician claimed to be averse to such distasteful acts as beating someone to a pulp - he certainly didn't mind watching his leader smack the former yakuza around, making snide comments and derogatory remarks from his comfortable place on the side-lines all the while.

Given that he'd taken that man's arm once, Chisaki had to grudgingly admit: the villain just might have good reason to enjoy his pain.

A low, strangled hiss left his clenched teeth as Chisaki shifted to sit more comfortably against the damp wall, grimacing at the flash of hurt that radiated up his injured leg and trying his best not to think about the thick layer of grime no doubt clinging to the stone behind him.

He'd long since given up on any semblance of cleanliness in this accursed place. There was nothing to keep him shielded from the filth surrounding him now. From the germs, the possible diseases crawling upon every surface, Chisaki having tried and failed to find a spot that was even remotely more sanitary than the rest, his mind screaming at him in horror and playing terrifying scenarios of different infections on an endless loop. There were none such feeble sanctuaries to find and the hives breaking out over his skin at every brush against dirty stone - became a near constant.

Even the meager shelter of his own clothes was no longer comforting. He could practically feel the fabric sticking uncomfortably to his skin, soaked in sweat and blood and vomit and other fluids he willed himself not to think about. Chisaki longed for nothing more than to take them all off, cleanse himself from the filth covering him from head to toe, wishing for a clean set he'd always had ready at hand - but couldn't. The thought of exposing his skin to all the grime coating the floor and walls was somehow even more unbearable than dealing with the dirt covering his scuffed jacket and suit. Made his mind go into overdrive, his heart to beat embarrassedly wildly against his ribcage in frantic fright. And if Chisaki didn't know any better he'd say that Shigaraki was well aware of that fact, knew the effects the dirty surroundings were having on the disgraced yakuza, the LoV leader purposely making sure to push the helpless man into the dampest and filthiest corners of the makeshift cell, shove him face first into the dirt, obviously taking pleasure from the dark streaks on his pale skin and the look of hatred and deep revulsion brimming within his golden eyes.

With his arms gone and his strength and will to fight at an all time low - Chisaki was quite powerless to stop him.

By far the only thing he could really hope for these days was that one day Shigaraki would misjudge the force of his blows, and that the beating that had become so routine - would suddenly turn fatal. Thus freeing him from this sad excuse for a life he was leading now. But he also knew how unlikely that was to ever happen, the thought of the villain killing him so soon in the game simply too good to be true.

It would be a long while and a lot more agony for him to endure before he was finally disposed of. He knew that. Shigaraki still had use for him, still wanted his research and to exact revenge for the death of one of his subordinates. Chisaki couldn't fathom why. Pawns were pawns, meant to be sacrificed in order to achieve a higher goal. Getting attached to them seemed counterproductive.

The door creaked open with an unpleasant, earsplitting whine of rusted hinges, but he didn't look up to face the newcomer, reluctant to give Shigaraki the satisfaction of having his attention, his dull eyes instead fixing themselves upon a dark splatter staining the opposite wall.

It looked awfully like a bloodstain. Did it belong to him? Or had it been there from the start? Chisaki couldn't tell, neither did he really care to find out. It didn't make any difference whatsoever whether or not the blood forever coloring the dirty stone originated from him. His skin crawled at the thought of all the filth and dirt surrounding him anyway. 

A voice tutted disapprovingly somewhere above him, and he reluctantly tore his gaze away from the dark stain, his golden eyes lazily traveling upwards to glance at the villain towering over him now, meeting a pair of startling turquoise. If he was surprised by the sudden change in tormentors, he hoped he didn't show it. The last thing he needed was for the villain to see anything but cold indifference on his face. To give him the pleasure of thinking that Chisaki actually cared about what they were going to do to him in this place.

He didn't really. Or so he liked to tell himself.

"Is that really how you greet one of your owners?" Dabi said, seemingly unperturbed by his prisoner's obvious disinterest, faint notes of amusement invading his dry rasp. "And here I thought you Yakuza dogs were all about showing manners."

Chisaki's teeth grit despite his best efforts of remaining pococurante to the blueflame's taunts, phantom, nonexistent fingers twitching as if in an aborted effort of curling into tight fists. 

He hated that quiet, ever present laughter in the villain's voice. Hated the subtle mockery constantly pervading Dabi's vocals like poisoned honey, as if the villain were making fun of him even when he wasn't openly insulting him. The oftentimes subtle digs and subsequent irritation got under his skin and festered beneath it like a disease, coursed through his veins like venom, eating away at the last dregs of pride and dignity he still had left to him. Not that there was a lot to begin with. Not anymore. Most of it had been drained over the past several days (weeks?) that he'd been held in this filthy room, smelling strongly of rot and blood and vomit and disease and even his own urine.

Dabi's methods of messing with him were subtle and effective. That much was unfortunately true. Shigaraki was far easier to deal with, his straightforwardness, short fuse and penchant for violence easy to deal with, to ignore.

Dabi's sharp cunning and sadistic nature, on the other hand? Not so much.

Realizing that Chisaki was not going to reply to him, the pyromaniac gracefully sank to his knees to kneel before him, disfigured lips quirking at the corners in a lazy smile. He knew better than to be fooled by it, to believe it, could see the calculating look glistening within the villain's eyes, and the subtle crease of his eyebrows. Dabi was assessing him, evaluating him, judging from which angle to best strike. Not unlike a predator analyzed its prey before leaping, searching for the weakest points to attack in order to cripple. To break.

Having used such techniques before (mostly on Eri) Chisaki was all too familiar with this particular game of psychological intimidation and dominance. Although he would've never imagined that he would someday end up on the receiving end of it. Why would he? At that point he had still believed he would never be defeated.

Especially not by a child.

"Not even going to reply to me? My, Shigaraki sure has done a shit job at teaching you how to treat your new masters, huh?" 

A snide comment sat on the tip of Chisaki's tongue, an inquiry of what the great leader of the League of Villains would say if he heard his second criticizing his methods in such an impertinent way, but it was quickly stifled by the irritation coursing through him. 

The way Dabi spoke, the way he referred to him... it was as if Chisaki were no more than a chained animal to the villain kneeling before him now. A dog. A pet. Someone who was no longer human, but a toy for another's amusement, a possession. Which he now was, in essence, not that that made it any easier for him to admit it, even if he had realized it a while ago.

Had Chisaki possessed even a little self awareness at that moment, he would've recognized that this was not at all different from the way he had treated the majority of his own people, including Eri. With the exception being that his men were sacrificial pawns, and the girl was more of a guinea pig to him, rather than a pet. But as it were, he didn't, and hot indignation scratched beneath his skin at Dabi's words, his golden eyes involuntarily narrowing in simmering anger. A fact that the villain didn't seem to miss if his wolfish grin was any indication, his fingers digging around for something in the dirty folds of his tattered coat.

"Knew that would get under your skin. You proud types are all the same. Want special treatment. Don't like to be treated like the rest of us lowlifes."

He seemed to find what he was looking for, and a blue light flickered into existence, illuminating the dark gloom that had encapsulated the room, eerily highlighting his deformed features and casting Chisaki into a pale glow, making the yakuza's already white face at the sight of flames that had burned him not so long ago take on an almost ghostly hue. 

He didn't want to feel that fire against his body again. Once was more than enough. Shigaraki's beatings, though horribly humiliating and demeaning in their own right, were far more easy to deal with. The thought of being burned again, of feeling his skin sizzle in the scorching heat and smelling the stench of burning flesh made bile rise with startling speed in his throat, Chisaki barely keeping himself from gagging and coughing up the pitiful scraps that made up his last meal. 

A low chuckle rumbled above him and the light flickered out of existence as quickly as it had appeared, a strong smell of nicotine engulfing the man's senses. A brief glance from the corner of his eyes only confirmed what he'd already guessed, Chisaki watching in silence as the villain beside him lazily fiddled with a cheap cigarette, deliberately puffing out large clouds of noxious smoke in his direction, making his nose wrinkle in disgust. By the amused look glistening within Dabi's eyes, he could tell that his newest tormentor did not miss his obvious apprehension at the sight of his quirk, and indeed took great pleasure from it, keeping his flames alight for longer than necessary in order to watch the beaten man squirm.

For a single, terrifying moment, the yakuza found himself wishing for Shigaraki to come back. Wished for the straightforward violence and familiar cruelty. It was easier to deal with than Dabi's more elaborate mind games. Easier to distance himself from, and the pain eventually became tolerable. Far from the unforgiving, all consuming agony that was quite literally burning alive. Shigaraki was predictable as well, easy to read after a while. Dabi, on the other hand, wasn't. Chisaki couldn't tell what the villain was going to do next, didn't know when to expect abuse and brace for pain, and the anticipation was making his insides crawl, his teeth gritting in an effort to not betray his growing anxiety. 

Judging by Dabi's malicious, shit-eating grin - he wasn't too successful.

The sudden burn took him completely by surprise.

Lurching sideways, Chisaki tried to get away from the cigarette bud being pressed into his cheek, hives breaking out over his skin and teeth gritting in an effort of stifling a pained hiss - although he wasn't entirely successful. It hurt. Not as much as Shigaraki's beatings had, but it hurt. And Dabi was now openly grinning down at him, those deformed lips curling in a jagged, utterly savage grin, the villain cackling with mirth as he followed Chisaki, keeping the tip pressed firmly against his skin.

"Oh no, no, no. Hasn't anybody told you? Good pets accept punishment."

Rage flowing through his veins, the yakuza kicked out with his remaining good leg, tried to dislodge the villain from him, his lip curling in an angry snarl - but he wasn't too successful. Was simply too weak, too disadvantaged to fend off his sudden attacker, his stumps failing to push Dabi away, his uninjured leg easily immobilized beneath the villain's surprisingly considerable weight. 

It didn't take long for Chisaki to find himself pinned down, Dabi's knees planted firmly on either side of his body, successfully keeping him immobilized as the pyromaniac finally drew back the remains of the cheap cigarette, carelessly flinging it into the darkness of the tiny basement. Adding to the filth already surrounding them. 

The faint beginnings of panic were starting to stir within his chest as Dabi leaned over him, and Chisaki wriggled fruitlessly beneath the heavy weight pressing down on him from above, his bruised bones aching, and his golden eyes widening with uncontrollable fright.

"Get off me!" He spat with as much venom as he could possibly muster, but his own voice sounded shrill in his ears. Laced with underlying terror. He pushed against Dabi's chest with his stumps, gasping as more pressure was put on his damaged rips, his whole body screaming at the rough treatment so soon after a beating, urging him not to struggle. He ignored it. Pushed past the pain consuming him, golden eyes blazing with fury in the darkness of the tiny room. "Get the fuck off me you filthy, dirty stray!"

Dabi clicked his tongue in fake displeasure at the growled out words, but there was undeniably something dangerous in his demeanor now, something deeply malicious, his cold, turquoise eyes seeming to glow ominously in the dark shadows surrounding them, glaring at him from above.

"Such a filthy tongue," he murmured as Chisaki sagged against the dirty floor, chest heaving, "for someone so obsessed with cleanliness."

A searing pain shot through his system and Chisaki arched off the floor with a violent shriek as the hand on his stomach suddenly spiked in temperature, quite literally burning into his skin, the smell of singed material and cooking flesh filling his nostrils as he tried to wriggle away, tried to escape the villain assaulting him - but to no avail. Despite his best efforts he couldn't escape the firm hold, Dabi seemingly effortlessly keeping him immobilized as he writhed beneath his palm in agony, only pulling back once he was certain his handprint was engraved upon the captive's pale midsection in a nasty burn, carelessly ripping the tattered bottom of Chisaki's dress shirt to better assess the injury he had just created.

Tears of pain and rage prickled at the corners of his eyes, Chisaki unable to stop himself from flinching as a deceptively soft finger traced over his abused stomach, following the outlines of the reddened burn, a quiet whimper of discomfort and apprehension escaping his lips against his wishes.

Dabi allowed himself a smirk.

"You proud types are all the same," he repeated almost absentmindedly, his turquoise eyes trailing up to meet wide, terrified golden. "Like to strut around, act like you're so tough, so much better than everyone else. Think yourselves untouchable when in reality you're anything but. Making it oh so very satisfying for the rest of us when you're finally brought down from your pedestals."

His hand dipped beneath the scuffed shirt, dragging against Chisaki's flank, seemingly disregarding the raised bumps of hives it was leaving in its wake, and Chisaki couldn't stop himself from trembling at the unwanted, threatening caress, his heart beating wildly in fright as those calloused fingers came to rest against his left side, right over his bruised ribs. 

Turquoise eyes narrowed.

"It's funny, but hearing about how you tortured that little girl of yours reminded me of someone else, yanno? Someone I've been meaning to pay back for years. Someone who still remains far out of my reach. Even now." He could feel Dabi's skin gradually heat up as the man's quirk was activated, couldn't stop himself from thrashing under that surprisingly strong hold in frightened desperation, his head shaking from side to side in silent pleas that he already knew weren't going to be answered. Not that it stopped him from trying.

But before the villain could burn yet another handprint into the yakuza's trembling flank, however, Dabi was suddenly pulling back, silently appraising the panting man beneath him, his turquoise eyes unreadable as they swept over Chisaki's starkly white face. "You know you're not the only one who used his kid as a fucking test subject, can ya imagine that? Yeah, you're not the only sick fuck out there who used a child to reach their goal. Now, we got some time to ourselves. How about I tell ya a little story before the rest come down here, hm?"

The sensation of burning returned, only it was far worse than before. Chisaki couldn't stop himself from screaming if he tried, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as his thrashing resumed, doing nothing to dislodge the psychopath pinning him down and instead seeming only to egg him on, if the disturbing, grotesque grin spreading across his deformed features was any indication.

"I used to know a boy who would scream just like you did while his father repeatedly burned him with his flames." He said conversationally, his tone as light as if he were discussing the weather. As if he didn't currently have a person writhing in agony beneath his palm. "Both flame quirk users, y'see. 'Course the old man tended to call these sessions 'training', and the kid was sooo driven and excited by his father's dream, that he tended to forget the pain his dear Pops inflicted. Sometimes the training wouldn't be so bad. But most times—" A sharp crack echoed across the room as Dabi's hand suddenly left Chisaki's sizzling, blistering skin and viciously struck out against his shoulder, expertly forcing the bone out of its socket and causing the yakuza to shout at the fresh spike of agony, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and quickly trickling down, Chisaki no longer capable of holding them at bay. "Most times he'd find himself crumpled on the floor, in a puddle of his own vomit, covered in bruises and nursing shattered bones while his mom begged his father to stop."

Ragged sobs escaping his lips, vision blurry, Chisaki shuddered where he lay upon the unyielding stone floor of the League's basement, his shoulder pulsing with hurt and stomach churning with nausea. 

He was no stranger to pain. Had indeed grown used to it over the years, though only in short bursts, as Overhaul hurt only for a few seconds as he reconstructed himself. Never before had he experienced agony like this, been forced to suffer without the promise of near instant relief, left to wallow in his pain and misery.

Even Shigaraki's beatings were somehow less painful than this.

Despite the ringing now assaulting his ears, he didn't miss Dabi's next words, seemingly unable to block out his raspy, unpleasant vocals, his glistening eyes struggling to focus on his new tormentor. 

"And then, one day, when it suddenly came to light that the boy would never be able to fulfill his father's aspirations - he found himself discarded by the man he'd been training with from the moment his quirk manifested. Thrown aside like trash. Like a failed experiment."

Chisaki couldn't stop himself from flinching as calloused fingers suddenly reached out and cupped his jaw with unusual gentleness, a soft thumb swiping in an arch over his bruised cheekbone, wiping away the crystalline tears glistening upon thick eyelashes like tiny sprinkles of morning dew, frightened golden eyes meeting turquoise. Dabi's face was unreadable, no longer gleeful, and that somehow put him even more on edge, the man whimpering uncontrollably in fright as he was suddenly pulled closer, every jostle sending sharp spikes of hurt shooting up his spine.

"I've been meaning to pay him back for the pain he's caused me for years." Dabi murmured, his voice unusually, disturbingly soft. "But I've been so far unable to get to him. I will destroy him eventually, of course. But in the meantime..." 

He leaned forward, their faces now barely a few inches apart, and Chisaki barely resisted the urge to cringe away, his terrified eyes never leaving Dabi's mangled face.

"You'll have to do."

Before he could quite register the meaning of those words, however, the basement door opened with a nasty squeal of rusted hinges, flooding the small space in blinding light. Two figures stood in the doorway, but because of his blurry vision and the brightness behind them casting their faces in shadow, Chisaki had no hope of recognizing them.  They seemed vaguely familiar though and each was carrying something in their hands, the knowledge giving him no comfort, an ominous feeling sinking deep into the pit of his stomach.

Dabi seemed to know who they were on the other hand, as he slowly dislodged himself from the crumpled yakuza, watching with undisguised amusement as his victim instantly tried to scoot himself away, progress greatly hampered by his injured leg and now almost useless, dislocated shoulder.

The newcomers said something, but with the intense ringing assaulting his ears and the pulsing agony coursing through his form Chisaki couldn't hear them. Dabi's voice, on the other hand, cut through the haze of pain and terror easily.

"Yeah, I don't think he'll be needing those anymore," the villain grinned, nodding towards Chisaki's burnt and tattered clothes, the normally pristine black shirt badly singed and ripped in several places, exposing his bruised, purple and blue skin, and his hideous jacket irreversibly stained in blood and dirt. For a split second their eyes met, wide, terrified and pleading golden staring into icy turquoise.

"Strip him."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"I've started weaning him off pain medication, so don't be disturbed if he seems to be in some discomfort, drowsiness and nausea are rather common side-effects, I'm afraid." Recovery Girl was saying, and Izuku nodded mutely to indicate he was still listening, his green eyes fixed upon the closed silver door. 

About a week had passed since he'd turned down Mirio's invitation, and the school nurse had finally deemed Chisaki to be well enough to see visitors. Immensely relieved and overjoyed by the news Aizawa had brought to him after class, Deku had resolved upon seeing the former villain that very evening, barely paying attention during the remaining lessons, his mind going a mile a minute and conjuring up different scenarios of how the meeting would go. Would Chisaki finally recognize him? Would he be angry at him? Their last meeting before his abduction had been far from pleasant, after all, with Izuku beating the man to a pulp and then watching in silence as he was strapped down and loaded into a police van. 

Would Chisaki be... afraid of him?

That last though didn't sit right with him at all, caused guilt to well up in his chest, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides.

He hadn't meant to startle Chisaki that day, hadn't meant to cause a flashback to the time the yakuza was held hostage by the villains. Didn't want Chisaki to be afraid of him, to associate him with terror and pain. God knows, the man had endured both enough already. He wanted Chisaki to trust him, to allow him to help. Wanted the villain to know that he meant him no harm, that he genuinely wanted for him to get better and find his way back onto his feet. But how could he explain that to him? How could he convince him of his genuine intentions of saving him? Deku didn't know the answers to those questions, but he would be damned if he abandoned Chisaki so easily, left him to suffer all alone. 

I promise I won't let you down again, Chisaki...

Recovery Girl hadn't let him into the ward immediately the moment he arrived, however, instead taking him aside and listing a series of instructions she had come up with for him beforehand, those that would guarantee both Izuku's safety and the yakuza's comfort. Though impatient to see Chisaki, to make sure he was all right after spending weeks upon weeks dwelling on his mistake and wondering how the former villain was doing, Izuku didn't protest as the school nurse took her time instructing him, his head dipping in shallow nods at appropriate intervals to indicate his understanding.

Recovery Girl would enter first to inform Chisaki of his visit, and then, if the villain didn't protest (which was likely as the man still remained rather distant), she would let Deku in too. If Chisaki showed any signs of agitation or reacted with violence to his presence - he would be instantly removed from the villain's ward. If he displayed any discomfort, distress, or apprehension during the visit - Izuku was to stop whatever he was doing and back off immediately. He wasn't to touch Chisaki under any circumstances, or to invade his personal space in any way without express permission from the man himself. He was advised not to take the yakuza's possible outbursts, or, on the contrary, complete lack of response to heart and to try and control his temper, not to use loud and angry tones that could possibly come off as threatening and cause upset. Izuku was to treat Chisaki gently without overstepping the bounds of normal, with understanding and not to show any judgement, even if the topics of their discussion somehow strayed to his horrific crimes. He wasn't to make any sudden or aggressive moves if he could help it, lest the yakuza interpret them as threat of violence. And, most importantly, if Chisaki were to show levels of pain that didn't seem to be in line with the discomfort he was bound to feel when being weaned off of painkillers Izuku was to fetch Recovery Girl immediately.

All of this, Deku took in stride, or at least tried to, the boy growing more and more apprehensive with each new instruction, his green eyes anxious as they flicked between the nurse's face and the closed silver door. Some conditions he recognized from his time spent with Eri after her rescue. Others took him by surprise.

Was Chisaki really this fragile? What had the League done to him in those three long years of holding him prisoner?

Finally, certain that she had mentioned every condition Izuku was to follow during his visit, Recovery Girl gestured for him to wait as she slipped quietly into the small ward. Through the small slit between the door and the wall Deku thought he could hear her soft, gentle tones, though no matter how much he strained his hearing - he could not catch Chisaki's response. 

His heart sank.

It would appear that the villain still wouldn't speak, even after so much time had passed since he'd first awoken in UA's hospital ward. The continued silence was starting to worry him. Would Chisaki ever start talking to them? Or would he forever remain silent, no matter how much time went past? 

Somehow the thought of never hearing the yakuza's voice again upset him.

The door slid open a fraction more and he took it as his cue to enter, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow and his palms feeling sweaty as he slowly entered the dimly lit ward, his emerald eyes immediately seeking out the form lying upon the lone hospital bed.

Chisaki looked better than he had during their last meeting. 

The man still looked abnormally thin and exhausted, the dark bags beneath his eyes having failed to vanish over the few weeks of Izuku's absence and faint stubble running along his jawbone, but the bruises coloring his skin were already receding, changing to an unpleasant, greenish-yellow that would soon turn back to healthy beige.

The bandages wrapped around his arms and those he could see peeking out from beneath Chisaki's crisp hospital gown looked clean, soft and comfortable, no longer stained in blood. Idly, he had to wonder how long it would take for them to come off, for the wounds they were covering to heal. They had to be pretty serious if the yakuza was still being kept wrapped up. Deku himself had rarely spent such a long amount of time in bandages, despite his extreme penchant for getting hurt. The look he'd gotten at Chisaki's medical files that All Might had given him was too brief to give him a full picture, Deku having skimmed through the information to get a general idea of the other's condition, so he didn't know the full extent of the injuries the villain had sustained during his captivity.

A fact he deeply regretted now.

Chisaki's fever must've gone away during Izuku's absence, because he no longer looked as flushed as he had a month ago, and seemed stronger than he had been during their last encounter, his body no longer shuddering as much from the chills assaulting his form, or the overwhelming weakness brought on by continued fatigue. And as Izuku slowly lifted his gaze to the yakuza's face - he was surprised to see golden eyes staring right back at him, the look within them no longer as hollow and detached, or clouded with confusion and exhaustion.

Deku practically felt the air suddenly leave his chest at the astonishing sight, the boy momentarily forgetting how to breathe as an overwhelming surge of joy washed over him at the brief yet unmistakable flash of surprise and recognition over the man's pallid features.

Chisaki was actually looking at him! Knew who he was!

But that sense of joy and relief was rather short-lived, his heart sinking as Chisaki didn't hold his gaze for long, his golden eyes almost instantly dropping to his lap, shoulders hunching as if in an effort of making himself seem... smaller. Subservient. Somehow less of a threat, tension bleeding into every line of his malnourished form, the action so achingly familiar that for a minute he was under the impression that he was staring at a completely different person.

Eri had done the same thing when she thought they were angry with her, the girl automatically expecting violence as punishment for what she perceived to be wrongdoing, flinching away when they tried to reach out to her, as if thinking they were about to strike her. To see Chisaki instinctively do the same thing in order to placate him, before he had even said or done anything,.. brought him no happiness or satisfaction. Caused uncontrollable sadness to well in his chest at the heartbreaking gesture, rage to burn in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what the League must've done to condition such a response. To turn a ruthless, cold, proud and defiant individual into a frightened shell of the man he used to be.

If Recovery Girl noticed the silent exchange - she didn't say anything. Deku saw her gaze linger on Chisaki, as if assessing whether he was uncomfortable enough to warrant the boy's immediate removal from the ward, but seemed to come to the conclusion that such a measure was yet unnecessary as she strode over to the frozen teenager, gently directing him to the familiar seat closest to the yakuza's bed. The fact that it seemed to be placed farther than it used to be didn't escape his notice. "You can take that seat over there, dear."

It was then that he noticed the bowl standing on the lone bedside table, looking like it contained the breakfast meal Lunch Rush had presented to them that morning, though the food within it looked untouched. As if Chisaki hadn't taken a single bite since the moment it’d been brought to him.

"I've been trying to get him back onto solid foods again for a while now," Recovery Girl murmured beside him as she followed his gaze, her voice barely audible so Chisaki wouldn't hear. "He desperately needs to put some weight on, he's skin and bones, and he can't rely on an IV forever. But I've so far been unsuccessful. He won't eat. No cause for concern though, dear," she added quickly, seeing the look on Izuku's face, "he's still adjusting. He just has a lot to process is all. It's possible that the hunger is simply not registering with him yet. He'll start eating soon enough."

Somehow Deku found that hard to believe, but he said nothing as the school nurse patted him softly on the arm in support, before turning to her silent patient, her voice somehow becoming even softer, kinder as she addressed him.

"I'll leave the two of you to it for now, Chisaki. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me." She nodded towards the emergency button next to the yakuza's bed, and Chisaki's head dipped in the shallowest of nods, the movement almost imperceptible, golden eyes still downcast. 

Pursing her lips at the worrying response, just slightly, the woman turned to glance at Deku over her shoulder one last time, her hand gripping lightly around the smooth doorknob. "You'll only have one hour this time, I'm afraid." She said, her voice kind but firm, as if expecting the boy to argue and dissuading him from doing so. "Chisaki needs to rest. He still has a long way to recovery ahead of him." 

Izuku nodded quietly in understanding, and the woman finally left the small ward with a final lingering look at her patient, the door clicking softly shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the darkened ward. 

Chisaki didn't look up as he came to settle on the seat beside him, still stubbornly avoiding Izuku's gaze, and Deku didn't try to force him to, instead finding himself almost relieved by it, a profound sense of awkwardness and unease washing over him once more. 

What was he supposed to say to Chisaki? He was so impatient to see him that he'd completely forgotten to think about what to tell him. What comfort could he possibly offer? Should he apologize for startling him that day? Or should he avoid the topic of Chisaki's trauma at any cost, for fear that it would cause the other severe, emotional distress again? 

Finally coming to a decision after what seemed to be hours of sitting in uneasy silence, Deku began fiddling with his backpack, fingers almost feverishly rifling through its contents as he searched for something he'd specifically placed there beforehand. 

"I... uh... I brought you something," he said, nearly stumbling over his own words with the force of his nervousness as he put the bag down, having found what he was looking for. "I-I know you're uncomfortable with germs, so I thought... This place is pretty sterile, of course, so it's probably unnecessary... b-but I thought it'd make you feel better to have them." He finished lamely, and, carefully pushing aside the full food bowl, gently placed a transparent bag holding a face mask and a pair of gloves onto the tiny nightstand, his heart sinking when Chisaki didn't so much as glance at his humble offering.

Well, there went that plan at least. But then again, what had he expected exactly? For the yakuza to be so grateful that he finally started talking to him as if they were old friends? Of course it wouldn't be so easy.

His eyes straying to the food bowl he cautiously picked it up into his hands (it wasn't like he hadn't already got his germs on it from pushing it aside), and thoughtfully examined its contents, brows furrowed.

"Is there something wrong with the food? I could try and bring you something else if you'd like."

After all, Eri enjoyed apples. Surely there was something Chisaki liked too. Something that would help him start eating again.

Nothing. Except Chisaki seemed to shrink in on himself even more, his head bowed so Deku couldn't see his face. 

Quickly setting the bowl down, Deku folded his hands in his lap so the man could clearly see them should he glance at him from the corner of his eyes, his heart clenching painfully within his chest. 

"I'm not here to hurt you, Chisaki." He said, voice quiet. "I just want to help."

But Chisaki was already turning away from him in obvious dismissal, clearly determined to ignore him until he finally got the message and left, his dull, golden eyes falling upon the window, watching the overhead clouds take on a magenta hue as the sun slowly sank beneath the distant horizon. Hurt, but not dissuaded, not yet, Deku sat in silence beside the hospital bed, not saying anything else, but refusing to leave either. 

If Chisaki really didn't want to talk - that was fine. But he wasn't about to leave either. Not until the other knew Izuku was there for him. That he was there to be the hero the yakuza needed him to be. No matter what.

A quiet, stifled hiss caught his attention and he sharply looked up, watching in perplexed silence as Chisaki suddenly almost feverishly rubbed at his arms, his body going taut with obvious pain and face pinching with discomfort.

It looked like a bad cramp. Would make sense considering the man had barely budged from his spot for weeks on end. Should he call Recovery Girl? It didn't seem bad enough to warrant bothering her, but she did instruct him to call her if the villain seemed to be in any discomfort...

Getting an idea, Deku slowly shifted in his seat, clearing his throat before speaking up again, his vocals slightly hoarse from staying quiet for so long.  "Chisaki? Is it all right if I touch you? It won't be for long a-and it'll make you feel better! I can help with the pain."

He knew he shouldn't do it, and wouldn't if the man chose not to let him close. But he also didn't know how to help Chisaki without touching him, unable to just stand by and watch as the other suffered in silence. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I just want to help."

Hesitating for a few seconds, his golden eyes raking apprehensively over Deku's form and throat visibly flexing in a heavy swallow, the villain finally nodded, slowly shifting back on the hospital bed, and allowing the boy to reach out toward him, but not before the other had slipped a pair of gloves over his own hands, reluctant to make the yakuza feel even more uncomfortable than he already did.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that Chisaki was only letting him do this because he figured Deku would do what he wanted anyway. Regardless of how the man himself felt about it. It wasn't like the League asked him for permission when they hurt him. It wasn't like they bothered with his comfort when they touched him against his will. So... how would Deku be any different?

The thought made him feel sick. Made him want to instantly remove himself from Chisaki's personal space, to leave the ward entirely. But he couldn't... wouldn't leave Chisaki until the man knew Deku was there for him. That he was there to save him.

His fingers slowly wrapped around a pale wrist, his grip light, allowing the former villain to pull away should he suddenly decide to, thumbs gently pressing into tense muscles and rubbing rhythmic, soothing circles over smooth skin. A surge of confidence and pleasure coursed through Deku's chest as no hives were left in the wake of his touch, and Chisaki gradually relaxed beneath the soft caress once he realized he wasn't going to be hurt, his eyes shuttering in an exhausted sort of contentment.

He'd done this a lot over the years. For himself, and for others after a particularly long session of training. Izuku knew he'd gotten good at it eventually, and was pleased to see the calming effects the gentle massage was having on Chisaki, pleased to see the tension finally leave the yakuza's form, all of his focus pouring into the task in front of him with renewed enthusiasm, moving on to the second arm once he was done with the first. 

So consumed was he by his work that he didn't immediately notice the glistening tracks of liquid slowly trickling down the man's face until something wet landed against his palm, the boy looking up and freezing in surprise at the sight of tears dripping sluggishly from the corners of Chisaki's eyes, thin shoulders shaking beneath the thin fabric of his hospital gown. Immediately stilling, his mouth going dry, he let go of the man's arm, his hands reaching out and stopping just short of the injured yakuza, Deku suddenly finding himself at a complete loss of what to say or do.

"Chisaki?" He asked, his voice faint and trembling, brimming with worry. "What's wrong? Did I do something? I'm sorry, I—"

The barest shake of the man's head cut Izuku off, a shaky wrist coming up to rub almost feverishly at Chisaki's eyes, hiding his face from view. As if the other were ashamed of his sudden inability to control his own emotions. As if he were no longer able to face the hero, now that the other had seen him so broken and miserable.

Izuku swore he felt something within him crack at the heartbreaking sight.

Chisaki must've been keeping it all in ever since he had first woken up in this place. Must've been doing everything in his power to hide his growing distress from all of them, afraid of his emotions being utilized against him. Forcefully pushing down all he felt: all the pain, the hurt, the fear at being surrounded by so many heroes, people who had once taken everything away from him, all the apprehension and anticipation of inevitable cruelty eating him alive...

Izuku couldn't imagine how confusing it must've felt for the man, how strange to be treated like a human being again after so many years of endless humiliation. By his enemies no less. It was probably why he'd panicked when the boy had touched him that day, his pent up anxiety causing him to believe that Izuku's action was a mere prelude to agony.

He'd been keeping it all inside for so long... Expecting himself to be treated just like when he'd been with the League of Villains, waiting for the heroes to revert to Shigaraki's savage ways. And Deku's kind touch had finally been the very thing to push him over the edge.

"It's okay to cry, Chisaki," he said, voice soft, his fingers stopping just short of the yakuza's shoulder in an aborted motion of giving him something to ground himself, a surprised breath leaving his lips as the man closed the remaining distance between them of his own accord, leaning into the hero's touch. Unconsciously seeking the same warmth, comfort and support he had felt just minutes prior, the sudden, feverish need overpowering his severe mysophobia. 

Loosely wrapping his arms around him, making sure the other didn't feel caged in and could pull away at any time, Deku allowed Chisaki to bury his face in his shoulder, the yakuza's hands gripping tightly onto the folds of his uniform as if it were suddenly the only thing keeping him from drowning, the boy's heart aching at the sensation of the other's body trembling uncontrollably against his own.

"It's okay. I've got you. It's gonna be all right. I'm never gonna let you go." He murmured into Chisaki's ear, his fingers traveling soothingly up and down the man's spine. 

I've failed you before, Chisaki... But this time I'll hold on.

Chapter Text

There were arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him steady as he sobbed uncontrollably into a firm shoulder. Fingers traveled up and down his spine in light, soothing caresses, the touch gentle, calming, not at all as cruel, or repulsive as he had imagined it to be. A familiar voice murmured soft comfort in his ear, easing his distress, until his body was no longer shaking with the force of his desperate weeping, his crying quietening to barely audible whimpers and whines and sharp intakes of breath. 

Chisaki just didn't— couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand why the boy was treating him this way. Why his touch didn't feel irritating against his skin, didn't bring with it the sensation of being contaminated. Why there was no pain, no roughness, no cruelty as Deku handled him, even though he had fully expected it, expected the hero to eventually hurt him, his grip remaining impossibly light upon his body. Bringing with it the sense of warmth and comfort he had not experienced in years.

Not since Pops had last held him like this.

He just didn't understand it... The hero had had no problems hurting him last time they'd met, the boy quite literally beating him to a pulp as he tore down everything Kai had so painstakingly built up over the years. So... what had changed this time around?

"You really think you don't deserve this pain?" A familiar rasp sounded in his ear, and he couldn't stop the frightened whimper that wrung itself from the depths of his throat against his wishes, fingers curling tighter around the folds of the hero's uniform; the boy cradling him closer in response, uttering a gentle shushing sound. "You really think you deserve to be treated with any kindness? After what you've done to so many people?"

Chisaki shook his head in wordless denial, his shaking increasing as his fear only mounted once more, Izuku instantly stiffening against him, his hands halting in their movements and flying to his sides. As if afraid that they were the cause of the man's distress, that he was somehow hurting him, the hero softly asking him what was wrong. Chisaki couldn't answer him even if he wanted to, his eyes clenching tightly shut as unbidden memories rose to the surface, his fingers clutching even tighter around the dark fabric of the other's uniform, preventing him from leaning away. As if afraid that the boy would suddenly step aside and let his personal demon through.

"You deserve this, Kai. You know you do. Everywhere you go you leave broken people in your wake, don’t you? Your Pops. Your little gangster friends. That girl you tormented… All shattered beyond repair. All stuck in hospitals, in prisons, never to return to their normal lives... Never to be whole again. Ever thought you might be a curse, Kai? A disease, eating away at everyone around you, including yourself…”

"No, I'm not— I didn't mean to— I-I'm sorry..." He hiccuped, his face wet with tears and voice barely more than a broken whisper. Pops' face looked down at him from the darkness of his closed eyelids, the familiar aged features stern, disappointed...

Disgusted.

Chisaki couldn't bring himself to face him.

The old man had died alone in a hospital without ever regaining consciousness; the doctors having failed to reverse the neurological damage 'Overhaul' had wrought. Had died without ever learning how Kai had betrayed him, how he'd led the Hassaikai to ruin, how he'd lost everything the boss had spent so many years trying to preserve. Without ever learning what a failure his son really was. Dabi had told him. Had made sure Chisaki knew whose fault it was.

"I-I didn't want— Boss— I'm so sorry..."

Chisaki knew now that he didn't deserve any sympathy. Knew that he didn't deserve to be helped, or saved. He'd broken everyone around him, had caused so much pain and devastation to so many people. His quirk, his disease had caused so much suffering to so many others. Pops. Hari. The Eight Bullets and the organization that had been the closest thing he'd ever had to a family. 

Eri...

The same thought ran through his mind as if on an endless loop, taunting him, tormenting him, offering him no relief because he had simply done nothing to deserve it. Eating away at his fracturing mind, destroying what little was left of Chisaki's sanity.

It was all his fault, his fault, his fault... He had infected them, he had broken them...

Dabi was right. He knew he was. Chisaki really was a curse, undeserving of compassion and care, breaking everything and everyone he ever came into contact with. A disease that Pops should've never picked up from the street. Never given shelter to. How could he have remained so blissfully blind to that simple truth for so long? Fooled himself into believing that he was one of the pure ones, that he could actually fix something in this cruel world instead of simply breaking it all apart, as was his purpose? That he could ever be capable of changing this society for the better by curing the disease plaguing them all, never once realizing that the most sick person out of all of them was himself?

"You've been breaking people from the very beginning, haven't you? Guess I can't blame you. That's just how you were born. I know what you did, Kai..."

"I'm sorry, I—"

Soft fingers carded through his hair, the touch so achingly reminiscent to the one he had experienced in his childhood that his eyes flew open of their own accord, glistening, tearful golden meeting striking emerald.

"It's all right, Chisaki," the boy whispered, something pained permeating his gaze, something deeply sorrowful, his fingers never stilling in their gentle movements. Soothing him. Calming him. Even though Kai was perhaps the least deserving of his kindness, the hero's lips curling in a sad smile. "Everything's going to be all right."

"Because I am here."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

His throat itched. Even with the filters installed in his mask he could practically feel the dust permeating the air, hovering like a noxious cloud over the rundown neighborhood the League of Villains' lackey had led him to. He couldn't stop himself from coughing if he tried, foregoing the usual forced politeness, annoyance pooling in his chest as he spoke up for the first time in the duration of the entire trip, his voice coming out scratchy and irritated.

Surely with their widespread recognition the League could've chosen a more suitable place for their meeting?

"The air's practically made of dust here. It's gonna make me sick."

Wait...

His lips had moved of their own accord, taking him by surprise. Chisaki remembered saying this... Remembered traversing this very neighborhood... around three years ago now. Remembered the meeting that had immediately followed as if it were yesterday, the images coming back to him in perfect detail. The very meeting that had ended up leading to his downfall.

"Tell me again who the next leader's gonna be?"

No... Please... No, he couldn't let it happen to him again! Not again!

Uncontrollable terror consuming him as realization crashed into him like a sack of bricks, he tried to stop in his tracks, tried to get away from Twice who yet seemed oblivious to his companion's distress, but was unsuccessful. His feet kept moving forward against his will, of their own accord, only bringing him ever closer to his doom despite the frantic cries and struggles of his panicked mind.

Chisaki couldn't control himself... He was trapped within his own body, forced to watch the horrifying events play out once more. To witness himself sign his own death warrant yet again.

"Join the club. The guys inside have been sick for a while."

The doors slid open before them, and Chisaki wailed internally in despair as he strode through them against his will, against his best efforts to turn around and run, faint moonlight filtering through the skylights overhead, bathing their decrepit surroundings in a pale blue glow. Crimson eyes peered at him from the shadows, glittering with malice and he tried to cringe away, tried to take even a single step back, ice cold terror flooding his insides and bile rising quickly in his throat at the familiar cruelty already glistening within that familiar gaze.

"Well now... You seem to have brought us a pretty big catch, huh, Twice?"

Instead of the silence he had expected, jeering laughter followed the man's words this time around, echoing in Chisaki's mind and he felt his breaths grow uneven; his throat constricting and chest struggling to rise with every intake, blind panic wrapping its claws around his heart with a vice like grip.

How could he have not seen it back then? Understood how they viewed him from the very beginning? Willed himself to be blind to it? Kept himself from realizing that he wasn't simply a small time thug for them from the slums, as he'd initially assumed. No. That he was prey.

Prey... That had walked right into their trap.

"You need direction to achieve your goals... And I have a plan. I didn't come here today in order to join you."

Stupid. Idiotic. Arrogant... Listening to himself speak now was nothing short of unbearable. Who had he believed he was when he had blatantly challenged them like this? What false ideas of grandeur had been going through his mind at the time, blinding him to the truth so blatantly laid out before him? Chisaki had believed he was above them, when in truth he was nothing compared to them. Nothing but a pitiful street rat. Trash. A worthless upstart. 

Shigaraki suddenly rose to his feet, the sharp motion enough to make him jolt, and Chisaki really did flinch away this time, his wide golden eyes watching fearfully as the villain strode forward and came to a slow halt in front of him, his horrific, blood red gaze piercing through his very being. Long fingers curled around Chisaki's throat, one hovering mere millimeters from his clammy skin, and he couldn't stop himself from swallowing heavily if he tried, staring up into the terrifying face hovering threateningly a few inches from his.

"No, I don't think we'll be joining you..." Shigaraki murmured, and the hold around his neck suddenly tightened, cutting off his air supply, and Chisaki gasped desperately for breath— "Instead, I think we'll be taking your work... And you'll be watching from the sidelines as your dream falls apart."

And before he could do so much as blink— he was suddenly being pushed away, his back colliding heavily against the mattress of a medical cot that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, thick bands snaking around his wrists as if of their own accord and holding him down, keeping his arms pinned to the silver bars on either side of him. His breath coming out in short, panicked gasps, Chisaki writhed against his bonds, his eyes growing wet with tears and terror consuming him, when he felt calloused fingers slide against his cheek in a gentle caress, dipping down to cup his jaw in a warm palm.

Turquoise eyes leered down at him from the blackness surrounding him, glowing eerily, unnaturally in the smothering gloom and illuminating the staples holding dead and healthy skin together, the man's horribly disfigured face contorting in an insane grin.

"Hello, Princess..."

"Chisaki?"

There were hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him awake. Cold, uncontrollable terror consuming him, he bucked wildly, thrashing in the foreign hold, no longer aware that the warehouse surrounding him was gone, and the air was no longer stale, or heavy with the stench of smoke and burnt flesh and his own blood. 

"Chisaki, please wake up!"

His eyes shot open and he lurched away from the unwanted contact, his back colliding heavily against the wall behind him and wringing a pained grunt from the back of his throat, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow gasps. Blood pounded a panicked rhythm in his ears and his throat constricted, stomach churning with nausea as he swallowed down bile.

As if sensing that he was about to be sick, a small bucket was suddenly being pushed in his direction and he grasped it gratefully without a second thought, the pitiful scraps of his last meal quickly rising in his esophagus and spewing past his lips as he retched uncontrollably, eyes slowly sliding shut, sweat making his hair stick uncomfortably to his skin in messy clumps. Soft fingers traced up and down his spine in soothing caresses as he sat shuddering upon the plush surface of the hospital bed, and the yakuza was unable to stop himself from whimpering in fright, leaning away from the deceptively gentle touch. Reluctant to play along with Dabi's elaborate mind games.

Chisaki knew better than to fall for this false gentleness. Knew that it could turn to pain at any moment if Dabi found any excuse to be displeased... and suddenly found himself completely unable to care.

If the villain was indeed going to hurt him... Chisaki wished he'd just get it over with already. Actually experiencing it was better than sitting there waiting for it to come.

To his surprise, the touch didn't turn violent as it usually did when he refused the villain's advances. Instead, the fingers withdrew almost immediately once they sensed his discomfort, the person beside him leaving Chisaki be as he dry heaved above the bucket, having already brought up what little remained in his stomach. Not that there was much to begin with. Dabi had barely fed him, and Chisaki hadn't been able to bring himself to eat anything else despite the nurse's best efforts to coax him into doing so, the yakuza feeling sick at the mere sight of the offered food. 

He didn't want to eat. Wasn't hungry. He didn't want to be here.

And something told him that the nurse was all too aware of that fact. Could see her throwing him concerned looks whenever she thought he wasn't looking, something infuriatingly close to pity, and regret flashing over her aged features.

He supposed he couldn't quite blame her for doing so though. No matter how much anger and annoyance it brought him. She'd probably seen this many times during her years as a hero, had had a lot of patients in predicaments similar to his. Chisaki knew that she'd realized how this was going to end a long time ago, perhaps the very moment he'd been brought to her, even if the child stubbornly visiting him did not yet catch onto it. Didn't yet understand that there was another, far more disturbing reason for the nurse's reluctance to allow him to get attached to Chisaki, even as she tried her best to stop the inevitable from happening. To prove him wrong. To give him a reason not to give up.

Her commiseration confused him. Infuriated him even. Chisaki didn't want her pity. Didn't need her compassion, her help. Didn't understand why she even felt sorrow for him in the first place. For him of all people when they both knew he deserved this, no matter how much she tried to deny it. They both knew there wasn't much left for him. Everything worthwhile had been taken away from him over the last three years. There was nothing left for him to keep hanging onto. So... Why try to stop it? Stop something that would leave all of them much better off?

"Chisaki?" A tentative voice sounded beside him, youthful vocals laced with worry. 

That... didn't sound like Dabi.

His eyes tentatively sliding open, he peered at the figure staring at him from the deep night shadows that had long since fallen upon the small hospital ward, his dull, golden eyes meeting glistening emerald.

Deku's face, lined with exhaustion, shock and worry, peered back at him from the surrounding darkness, hands held up in front of him in a placating gesture, showing that he was unarmed and meant no harm. The small clock beside them informed Chisaki that it was three in the morning. He'd been asleep for about two hours. Strange time for a visit.

And yet... he suddenly couldn't care less. Suddenly found himself simply too exhausted to feel any surprise at the late visit, the former yakuza merely resigning himself to his fate. Whatever the boy had come here in the middle of the night to do - he might as well just get it over with. It wasn't like the man was in any state to stop him if he tried.

Maybe then it would all be over sooner and easier than Chisaki had expected.

Soft fingers reached out, gently tugging the yellow bucket out of his grasp once it was clear that he was done with it, and he reluctantly let go, watching as the boy set it down on the floor beside him without a single glance, or grimace of disgust. As if he hadn't even noticed or cared for its contents. He must have cared for sick people before. It obviously wasn't his first time doing this. Chisaki himself would've normally never been able to touch something so filthy, so teeming with disease, his mind screeching in horror at the mere sight of it. Let alone the thought of actually touching it.

But that had been back while he was still clean. Now he was probably filthier than anything else in this school of heroes. Forever soiled. Tainted.

Idly, he had to wonder if the hero would be able to touch him if he knew what had been done to him. What Dabi had turned him into. Wondered if the boy would be disgusted, would think twice before reaching out to him so carelessly, having learned just how filthy Chisaki really was inside and out.

"You're going to behave for us now. Right, babygirl? It'd be a real shame if I had to punish you again because of your stubbornness. I really hate it when you make me hurt you, Kai..."

"I-I know this is probably weird," the boy said, his voice a nervous stutter, and Chisaki reluctantly turned his attention back to the youth sitting beside him, watching in silence as the other wrung his hands in front of him in a nervous gesture. "Me sneaking in here in the middle of the night like that... I just... I couldn't sleep... After what happened, I couldn't leave you like that! I-I had to make sure you were okay!"

Ah, yes... He meant after Chisaki had lost control and bared his emotions to the hero. Allowed the boy to see him at his lowest point, to see his fear, his hurt and despair just because of one gesture of kindness. Stupid. Shameful. Weak. Pathetic. 

Ghostly, familiar, calloused fingers settled heavily on the back of his neck in a possessive hold, gently playing with the chestnut strands of his nape, and Chisaki was barely able to stop himself from whimpering, his knees pressing tightly against his chest as he instinctively curled up where he sat upon the hospital bed, ignoring the pangs of pain and the desperate screams of his protesting, injured body.

"So desperate for affection, aren't you, Kai?.. You might pretend otherwise, but I know you want this. I bet no one's touched you in a while, huh? Can't say I blame them though. Who'd want to dirty their hands touching filth like you?.."

Chisaki's fingers sunk into his uncovered wrist, narrowly missing the IV needle, nails digging into soft skin and raking ruthlessly against it, the sharp sting and sensation of being punished for his failure bringing instant relief. The pain was nothing compared to Dabi's reprimands, that much was true. But even so it was better than nothing, his breathing easing as he almost ruthlessly scratched at his arm, his eyes absentmindedly watching the red marks appear on pale skin, the first drops of his blood well where his nails had dug in especially hard...

The action should've disgusted him. Should've horrified him. Caused him to break out in hives. And once upon a time, approximately three years ago if the nurse's words were to be believed, it certainly would have. But all it did now was bring a sense of relief so strong it almost felt cathartic, his guilt for letting himself lose control so easily ebbing as more and more crimson drops trickled down his pale wrist.

As if all of his faults and failures were being siphoned out along with them...

"Chisaki, please stop. You're hurting yourself."

Good. That's what he deserved.

Gloved hands tentatively reached out, hesitating mere centimeters from his arm, emerald eyes searching his before soft fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, the touch soft, gentle, as noninvasive as possible. Allowing him to easily pull away if he wanted to. Not that he ever would. No. No matter how much he might find himself wishing to do so. 

He knew better than to try and resist his betters.

A soft hiss involuntarily left his lips as antiseptic was gently rubbed into his scratches, the slight sting vaguely reminding him of his days with the Shie Hassaikai, surprise welling in his chest at the unexpected action, golden eyes snapping towards the hero sitting quietly beside him.

Dabi had never touched him like this... Even when the villain was in his... so-called kinder moods. Had never treated him with such gentleness, with such respect, without a single sign of revulsion, or derision, or disdain.

The unexpectedness of such treatment put him on edge.

Wasn't this hero supposed to hate him? After what he'd done to him? To Eri? To his hero colleagues, Lemillion and Nighteye? Wasn't he supposed to be disgusted? Or... Was there something else the hero wanted from him? Was all of this just another game? Yet another lie?

Confusion bloomed inside him once more, just like with the school nurse, but this time there was no anger, no irritation, just overwhelming exhaustion, resigned acceptance and something awfully akin to apathy.

Even if this was indeed yet another deception... at least he knew for sure that it wouldn't last, and he could allow himself to bask in it, enjoy it for what it was worth. For as long as he possibly could. It would all be over soon anyway. Once he found a reliable way out.

His eyelids fluttered, exhaustion sinking deep into his very core, and Chisaki felt himself slowly nodding off, the touches so strangely soothing that he did not even protest as gentle hands helped him settle a little more comfortably upon the narrow hospital bed, worried, emerald eyes meeting hazy golden. 

"Go back to sleep, Chisaki." Deku said softly, something sad flickering across that freckled face, something sorrowful, seemingly far beyond the youth's control. "It's okay. I'll stay right here. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not again."

And as if that gentle permission was all he needed, Chisaki felt himself finally drift off, a welcome blackness rising up to meet him, the former yakuza falling willingly into its embrace. Smothering the bleak world he no longer wanted to be a part of around him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The damn nerd was up to something.

Even without having a clear view of the other's face Bakugo could tell that Izuku wasn't listening, his pen barely scraping against the pages of his notebook, informing Katsuki that the boy wasn't taking any notes. Well, he was, just not to the degree he usually did, his classmate barely copying down the basics of what they were discussing in class. And he kept staring off into the window, his green eyes distant and focused on nothing, the vacant look within them clearly discernible even through the reflection in the glass. All of which infuriated Katsuki, proverbial steam coming out of his ears at the very thought of Deku being distracted from their rivalry.

First the goddamn nerd lies to them at lunch, and now he dares to not pay attention in class?! Had he completely forgotten about their mission?! How could he allow himself to slack off like this?! What happened to his determination to beat Bakugo and become the number one hero? 

And what was all this about someone named Chisaki?

For all his professed hatred, and disdain towards Deku's muttering, Bakugo wasn't foolish enough not to listen whenever the boy went off on his little rants. While others found themselves zoning out quite quickly, he, on the other hand, forced himself not to, using this chance to gain insight into his greatest rival and his thought process. After all, Endeavor, the current number one, had been able to understand Deku. Had been able to grasp the basics of what the idiot was spouting and figure out the problem. If Bakugo was ever going to be number one, he needed to be able to do that too. No matter how much it sickened him to waste time listening to a bunch of extras. He wasn't stupid enough not to realize that.

So, while everyone else had dismissed Deku's muttering, Bakugo had instead listened. And when the boy had abruptly fled the crowded cafeteria - he had watched, crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion and deep thought. 

Chisaki... Chisaki... For some reason the name rang a bell. Sounded awfully familiar. He'd heard it before, remembered it from somewhere, but the question now was: where? He could not recall having ever met anyone with that particular name... But then again he could barely remember the names of his classmates and more often than not relied on his own sobriquets based on their quirks to distinguish them from each other... 

So, as much as he hated it, it appeared that there was only one choice for him left, and he'd reluctantly gone and done his research, the results leaving him even more infuriated and confused than he was to begin with.

Kai Chisaki was a known yakuza boss allegedly responsible for the invention and creation of quirk destroying bullets, and was reported to having been heavily involved in the raid upon the Shie Hassaikai approximately three years back. The same raid Bakugo had missed out on due to his failure to acquire a provisional license which both explained why he'd heard the name before, and why he couldn't recall having ever met the man himself. Chisaki was charged with second-degree murder, torture, drug manufacture with the intent to distribute, destruction of property, assault and battery, organized criminal activity... child endangerment and abuse.

Bakugo's eyes narrowed even further.

Of course... Eri... How could he have forgotten? The pipsqueak occasionally showing up in their dorms with Aizawa and Mirio. The little girl Deku had saved three years ago. Chisaki had been her caretaker before them...

And he'd hurt her.

However, the man was never actually convicted of his crimes as he went missing during transport immediately after the raid's conclusion, presumed dead. This was further supported by the sheer amount of blood found on the scene during investigation, signalling heavy bleeding, and police officer testimony about the attack on the convoy, ruling out the possibility of the yakuza's escape. Reports on the entire ordeal stated that the League of Villains had been involved, and there was speculation that they were responsible for Chisaki's abduction and supposed murder as well. However, as no body was ever found police could never prove that they were in any way linked to the yakuza's disappearance. The attack on the convoy transporting him? Certainly. His abduction? They could not be sure. And after three years of no news, or new clues as to the man's whereabouts, it was simply assumed that Chisaki hadn't survived his kidnapping, his remains having been successfully disposed of, and the case was closed.

Nothing in the following years had given the police reason to doubt the likely outcome of the yakuza's fate... And Deku hadn't mentioned the man once in that time either. So... why bring him up now?

Something wasn't right here. And Bakugo would be damned if he didn't find out what.

"Midoriya, a word?" Aizawa called out over the cacophony of a ringing bell and moving chairs as the class filed out one by one, heading towards the training grounds.

His crimson eyes narrowed, Katsuki watched as Deku strode past him without so much as a single glance (unusual), a visible excited spring in his step that certainly wasn't there before (even more unusual), and eyes shining hopefully where previously they were dull and unseeing, clouded over with exhaustion. Curiosity and increasing suspicion insistently gnawing at his insides, he deliberately hung back, waving off Kirishima as the other boy sent him a questioning glance and making a show of struggling with his school bag, hoping to catch even a snippet of Deku's conversation with Aizawa.

His obvious stalling did not escape the teacher's notice.

"You should hurry up, Bakugo." Aizawa said as Mina finally left the classroom, leaving just the three of them alone in the empty room, the man's dark gaze hard. As if hinting that he was onto Bakugo's game and wasn't falling for it in the least. Urging him to leave. The boy scowled in response. "You don't want to be late for Thirteen's class."

Gritting his teeth, Katsuki slammed the bag shut and slung it over his back, shoulder bumping Deku on his way out of the now vacant classroom, the door quickly clicking shut behind him. Thus destroying any chances Bakugo might've had left of 'accidentally' overhearing the clearly private conversation. Not that he was going to stoop so low as to deliberately eavesdrop through a crack in the door without good reason. No. The last time he'd done that, he'd regretted it. Getting caught up in Half and Half's family drama hadn't exactly been a fun experience. Deku might like playing psychiatrist, but Bakugo could hardly deal with his own issues, much less somebody else's.

However... He couldn't just let this go either. If Deku was going to succeed All Might, and beat Bakugo to the title of number one in a fair fight he had to be on top of his game. And currently he was anything but that. His grades, while still better than most in the class, were worse than Katsuki's. He was stumbling during practical lessons, and sleeping in class, dark circles lining his eyes, looking like he was about to collapse. Bakugo had even heard of him turning down Mirio's invitation to see Eri, which was simply unheard of. Deku never passed up a chance to see her, so what happened? And how did a dead yakuza and former child abuser tie into all of this? Luckily, it wouldn't be too difficult to find out. All he'd have to do is keep an extra close eye on the damn idiot, and he'd get all the answers he needed eventually.

Easy.

Though as it quickly turned out over the next few days - discreetly watching the other boy wasn't quite as simple as he had imagined it to be.

Deku didn't come to Thirteen's class after Aizawa had held him back. Neither did he show up at dinner, his seat suspiciously vacant next to Iida's. And as the days slowly went by, a new routine was established, with the boy walking in looking like he hadn't slept all night, avoiding interaction and vanishing immediately after class, often times skipping meals, only to stumble into the dorms late in the evening appearing more exhausted than ever. All questions about his wellbeing were dismissed. All offers to help or even listen to his problems were politely turned down. If Bakugo didn't know better, he'd say that Deku was... distancing himself from them. Avoiding them.

But... no, that couldn't be possible. It wasn't like the idiot at all to avoid getting all mushy, and emotional around his friends. To suddenly stop letting them in. But what could be so important as to make Deku forget about his mission to succeed All Might, and yet at the same time be upsetting enough to make him reluctant to talk about it with his closest friends such as Iida, or Uraraka? Bakugo wasn't a fool, he knew the two of them weren't close enough to warrant such trust. But the fact that he hadn't confided in anyone was disturbing. Put him on edge.

For as long as he could remember, Deku had never been able to hide anything from him. Not when they were kids, not when they were teenagers. Even his deepest secret of being the last holder of OFA had been voluntarily disclosed to Katsuki. But this time... Deku had clammed up. Wouldn't tell anyone what was going on. It just... It wasn't like him...

It was wrong.

All of which led Bakugo to where he was now, lurking outside the nurse's office, having followed Deku all the way here right after class.

He'd noticed that the nerd was visiting Recovery Girl a lot lately... No matter what elaborate routes the boy took to get here in order to conceal his destination. It was time to find out why.

"... I left him some food yesterday," he could hear Deku saying, his brows instinctively furrowing at the distinct note of worry in the boy's voice. "But when I came here in the morning it was still left untouched. He's not eating no matter what I try. A-and those scratches—" 

"— are healing." A second voice interrupted, easily recognizable even though Katsuki had only heard it a few times during the three years of his stay in UA.

Recovery Girl. But she sounded... somehow off. Even with the soothing tone of her voice he could catch something else. Some undertone that she was trying her very best to conceal. That she didn't want Deku to catch.

Bakugo's eyes narrowed even further.

She sounded sad. He hadn't heard her sound that way since Kamino, when—

He forcefully banished the memory to the back of his mind. The last thing he needed now was to get distracted by old guilt.

"But—"

"You can't expect him to be immediately all right so soon after his rescue, dear. He needs time to process what happened. You have to understand that it's not easy for him. We just have to be patient. Patient and understanding."

Bakugo practically felt his teeth grind together at those words, anger stirring low in his stomach.

He never would've expected this, from her of all people, but there was no denying that the woman was lying. Lying through her teeth. Trying to fool Deku into thinking nothing was amiss when it most certainly was. And either the nerd really was deaf, or he didn't want to face the truth either, allowed her to lie to him in order to hide from what he couldn't yet bring himself to face.

"Eri was never this way... I-I just can't help but think that I'm doing something wrong."

Everything came to a screeching halt, Katsuki's eyes widening briefly, lips curling in confusion. 

Eri? What did Eri of all people have to do with this?

A heavy sigh sounded from behind the closed door. 

"You're not doing anything wrong, dear." Recovery Girl said at last after a long pause, her voice quiet and impossibly gentle. "Eri was lucky enough to be rescued early on, and has been treated with nothing but love and care ever since. Not only that, but the horrible things she survived are... different from what he went through. You can't exactly compare their cases. Their experiences are not the same. And though this might not seem true to you now, but you are helping him, Izuku. He's responsive again, he's slowly starting to talk. He's showing emotion. Not a small feat, given his condition, or recent events. Progress is being made, slow and steady. There is no need to worry, or doubt yourself. You're doing everything you can."

When Deku finally replied, his voice was equally quiet, barely more than a whisper. Bakugo could practically see him in his mind's eye: that guilty green gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in front of him, or held clenched at his sides, tension evident in every line of his form...

He didn't need to have a clear view of the boy to know that Deku was grieving.

"I just wish I could do more for him."

Having heard enough, the boy pushed off of the cold wall, stalking briskly down the sunlit corridor and turning the corner before either of the heroes could detect his presence, his hands shoving themselves deep into his pockets; balled into tight fists.

It only became too clear to him now what Deku was doing, what was distracting him so much from his dream of becoming the number one hero, and could already tell that it wasn't working. Wasn't going to start working. Not ever. Recovery Girl might try to convince him otherwise. Might tell him that what he was trying to do was genuinely having an effect, but Katsuki knew that that wasn't true. That it was a lie specifically designed to keep the boy from the painful truth for as long as possible. To protect him from the inevitable.

The reality of the situation was very simple:

The man Deku was foolish enough to try to save, the one Bakugo had a sneaking suspicion had been declared dead three years ago... was dying.

Chapter Text

"Strip him."

It took him several moments to grasp the meaning of those words. To figure out what they meant for him. Denial made his mind go blank, his mouth to dry. Horror overtook his soul, his blood freezing in his veins as his head slowly shook from side to side, the former yakuza simply refusing to believe what was about to happen.

No, this… This had to be some kind of cruel joke. An intimidation tactic, expressly designed to keep him docile with the threat of even more horrific violence than what he'd endured so far. Surely Dabi wouldn't stoop so low. Wouldn't cross this particular line. Chisaki himself certainly never had, his mysophobia, hatred towards most humans and yakuza ideals strongly condemning such behavior. He'd murdered, extorted, manipulated, tormented, and experimented, sure, but he'd never… Surely even the League was above this!

And yet somewhere in the back of his mind… Chisaki knew it wasn't. After all, what did rabid animals like them know of honor?

The unpleasant, nauseating sensation of foreign fingers wrapping around his ankle snapped him out of his brief, horrified rumination, the man immediately kicking out with his remaining good leg, deafening, mocking laughter echoing throughout the tiny room at the futile show of residual defiance.

"No!"

Regardless of his protests, or perhaps fueled by them, the hand returned, grasping him by his injured knee and yanking him forward, a shrill, agonized cry bubbling past his lips as a shooting, burning pain travelled through his already aching system, the soul wrenching scream of unfiltered suffering successfully drowned out by the villains' mirth.

The same thought ran through Chisaki’s mind like a mantra, his golden eyes sliding shut as overwhelming hurt became his world, forcefully pushing back the tears of humiliation that threatened to spill down his sunken cheeks for the second time that day.

This… This couldn’t be happening. Not to him! Things like this were just never meant to happen to powerful men like him. He was Overhaul, the feared oyabun of the Shie Hassaikai. People trembled upon hearing his name. Entire organizations fell on his orders. The dark era of disease known as quirks was about to come to an end at his hands. Things like this just never befell people like him. Happened to weaker men, lacking in strength and viciousness and cunning - all of which he had wielded so effortlessly not so long ago. Or so he had believed. Had somehow fooled himself into thinking that his status could ever protect him from the most depraved of crimes.

It just… It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to!

Too wrapped up in his own frantic thoughts and crippling terror, Chisaki didn't even notice as his jacket was finally yanked off, the tattered green fabric fluttering pitifully as it was tossed carelessly to the side, landing in a heap in some dirty, damp corner. Looking as soiled and ruined as it's owner was about to be. He did however notice when stubby fingers reached for his stained tie, roughly hooking on the material in an attempt to undo it. 

A flash of fiery golden was by far Spinner's only warning before white teeth sank deep into his scaled flesh, an incomprehensible shout of pain wrenching itself from the villain's throat as he reflexively shoved Chisaki away, a strained grunt leaving the yakuza's lips as his head smacked against the stone wall with the force of the violent push. Stars exploded across the man's vision, disorientation making the world around him spin, and he gagged uncontrollably, spitting out the gecko's blood, barely keeping himself from retching. Nausea threatened to overtake him, the thought of all the germs currently invading his mouth making his mind go into overdrive with panic, but he forced himself to push past it, using this chance to put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and his tormentors, even though he already knew it was pointless. There was no escaping them. Not truly. By far his only way out of this terrifying predicament was perhaps provoking the villains into bashing his skull in.

But despite realizing the extreme severity of his situation… some parts of Chisaki still couldn't help but think that all of this was just a bad dream. One that he would surely wake from eventually. Surely he couldn't really be here, trapped in some dingy basement, armless, defenseless, surrounded by villains out for his blood. Surely he couldn't have been so desperate, so terrified as to actually bite someone in order to get away, bile rising in his throat at the mere thought.

He had never done that before. Not even as a child. Had simply never had to resort to such measures, his fists and then his quirk doing a more than marvelous job of putting anyone who dared to challenge him in their place. Surely he was back in his bed at the Hassaikai hideout, having overindulged in caffeine, or neglected to deal with his stress - all of which resulted in bizarre nightmares he couldn't seem to wake from.

Surely one of these days he would wake to see Pops' face again.

"The bastard bit me!" Spinner was shouting when he finally came back to himself, the man's hand clasped tightly around his bleeding fingers, reptilian features contorted in fury. "The little bastard bit me!"

"Oh, quit your whining." Dabi intoned lazily, tossing something to his cohort, the object glinting ominously in the low light of the League basement. Despite watching closely, Chisaki couldn't tell what it was. "And muzzle the mutt."

It was as if a bucket of ice cold water had suddenly been upended over his head, and the yakuza struggled wildly as hands descended upon his form once more, roughly holding him still. Terror consuming him, he thrashed desperately in the unwelcome hold, teeth gritting in pain as fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to bruise, successfully keeping him immobilized. Not that that stopped Chisaki from fighting. Especially when he felt something cold slide against his face, his panic skyrocketing at the unpleasant sensation and crushing realization.

A dog muzzle! They were trying to put a dog muzzle on him! 

But he was utterly helpless to stop them. 

A strangled, choked back sob wrung itself past his lips as leather straps were fastened tightly around his head, mortification making his chest go tight, the feeling of being suffocated overcoming him until he was gasping desperately for breath, seemingly unable to draw air into his lungs. The weight of the muzzle on his face felt unbearable, crushing, nothing like he'd ever felt before, the oppressive object making it hard for him to breathe despite the wide gaps in the shiny metal. His eyes burned as a steady stream of tears threatened to pour down his cheeks, held back only through sheer force of will alone and blurring his vision, the barely stifled sobs only making it harder for him to draw much needed breaths.

This couldn’t be happening...

Sudden movement in his periphery broke him out of his brief spiral, the yakuza looking up as Dabi came to kneel before him, the look on the villain's face almost pensive as he examined his work. Chisaki couldn't even imagine what he looked like in that moment, didn't even want to think about it, his body, to his great humiliation, shaking like a leaf beneath the villain's scrutiny, far beyond his control.

The man's ruined lips twitched downwards in a small frown at the sight. If Chisaki didn't know any better, he'd say that the villain almost looked… disappointed. 

"Don't like your new jewelry, Princess?" The psycho asked, his rough fingertips tracing the metal lines of the muzzle digging ruthlessly into the skin of Chisaki's face, gently putting a stray strand of disheveled chestnut hair behind a pierced ear, his breath, hot and unpleasant, ghosting over the yakuza's neck. "That's a shame. After I went through all the trouble of getting it for you. Knowing how you liked being muzzled. That stupid beak of yours was such an ugly thing. You should be grateful I got you something better." 

Stomach churning with revulsion, Chisaki tried to cringe away, but was unable to, rough hands descending upon him once again and ruthlessly tearing the tie from his neck along with the pitiful remains of his dress shirt, the quiet sounds of ripping fabric echoing like gunshots across the cramped room, the reality of the situation finally dawning on the struggling yakuza.

This was happening. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

A strangled, choked back plea wrung itself past his lips as his pants and underwear were removed as well, leaving his entire body uncomfortably bare and vulnerable to the villains' scrutiny, shame sinking deep into his core. Laughter, cruel and menacing, echoed in his ears, and he curled up on the stone floor once they let him go despite the agonized pangs of his battered frame, face burying itself in his stumps, thin shoulders shaking uncontrollably with the effort of keeping his emotions at bay.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be with Pops.

Soft hands wrapped around his torso, gently lifting him and pulling him into a warm embrace, and Chisaki didn't find the will within himself to fight it even as he felt himself breaking out in hives from the unwanted contact, instead leaning into the comforting embrace despite sensing the danger within it. Despite feeling the stench of burnt flesh and rot filling his nostrils as he pressed closer, hiding his face in the stained lapels of the person's jacket in a desperate bid for cover. Despite knowing that the man he was now seeking comfort from had hurt him mere minutes prior, and would only be too happy to do so again.

"Shhhh, calm down, Kai." Dabi murmured, his raspy voice unusually gentle as he cradled the distressed yakuza against his chest, deformed lips brushing over the man's temple in a feather light kiss. Chisaki was unable to stop the quiet whimper from slipping past his lips. "We both know we're going to punish you, so there's really no point in getting upset about it. Just breathe for me now, kitten. There you go. That's a good boy."

Soft fingers carded through his hair in rhythmic, soothing caresses, the gentle massage a stark contrast to the steady stream of poison being whispered in his ear. He could feel foreign eyes on him, several greedy, lascivious gazes following the lines of his bare form, and the knowledge only put him even more on edge, the yakuza pressing ever closer to his tormentor. As if trying to find some kind of shelter within his arms, some form of protection, the man barely keeping his tears at bay.

Dabi must've felt the growing wetness against his skin, because he only held him tighter in response, a soothing croon reverberating through his surprisingly broad chest, turquoise eyes gleaming in the stifling darkness of the small basement. "Shhh, no need to cry now, doll. It's ok. We're just gonna give ya a little whipping to teach ya not to bite your masters anymore, hm? And you'll be a good boy for us, won't you, Kai? Yeah, you'll be so good for us, Princess."

The sudden blow took him completely by surprise.

Searing, burning pain travelled up his spine, his back arching in agony, and a shrill screech wrung itself past his lips as something slashed across his shoulder blades, Dabi's embrace no longer comforting but a cage he could not escape from, forcing him to remain still and his torso to stay exposed even as hot blood trickled down his sides, staining the villain's lap. Tears of pain blurring his vision, he was barely able to force them back by clenching his eyes shut, teeth gritting as another hit landed against the base of his spine, wringing a second stifled cry of suffering from his cracked lips.

Chisaki didn't need to look back to know what they were hitting him with, knew the telltale cracking sound the whip made against the air and the feel of unyielding leather against his skin even though he had never been on the receiving end of it before. Had never been subjected to something so demeaning, so humiliating, the man involuntarily hiding his face in Dabi's warm shoulder. As if in an effort of distancing himself from what was happening. As if trying to hide, the burnt villain somehow becoming his only refuge now that the comforting shield of his own clothes had been completely stripped away. Leaving him more bare and vulnerable and desperate than he had ever felt in his entire life. So desperate even, that he was willing to disregard the filth that clung to his skin from the other's closeness if it meant gaining some meager protection from the whip biting into his flesh.

However,  to his great surprise Dabi shoved him away once the villain sensed he was getting too close, the captive’s bloodied back slamming painfully against the dusty floor, and Chisaki was unable to hold back the confused, fragile whine of pain and terror that slipped past his throat as the soothing warmth was suddenly denied to him, golden eyes snapping towards icy turquoise.

"Sorry, Princess." The villain said, his gaze no longer warm, but glinting ominously in the low light of their dark surroundings. "But this is supposed to be a punishment now, isn't it?"

"And you're not supposed to be comforted during punishments..." 

Blinding, blue flames danced across the stained walls as Chisaki's clothes suddenly caught on fire, the man finding himself reaching desperately for them with his stump, features twisting in horror and despair as the last vestiges of his past burned to a crisp before his very eyes, the cherished, purple and green bomber jacket shriveling and turning into ash. As if symbolizing the final destruction of everything he’d used to be up to this moment, the complete erasure of the identity he had hidden behind so many years ago.

'Overhaul' was no more.

Tears blurring his vision, finally spilling down his face, he looked up as Dabi came to stand over him, those deformed features contorted in a nasty, malicious grin, eyes glinting coldly in the faint glow of the dying flames.

"Time to go back to your origins as a nobody, huh? That yakuza shit's over. You're mine now, Princess."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"We've got a problem." 

Aizawa looked up from the papers clutched within his grasp.

All Might stood on the other side of the Principal's office, his lanky arms crossed tightly over his chest, lips pulled into a thin line. Beside him, Nezu sat tensely at his office desk, looking more worn out than he had in days. Or at least the man thought he did. Even he often found it difficult to read the Principal's expressions.

Aizawa's brows furrowed.

"You don't say." 

"I'm afraid the Commission is getting more and more insistent in its efforts to gain custody of Kai Chisaki." Nezu said, his voice a heavy sigh, paws clasping tightly upon the smooth surface of his office table. "It is only a matter of time before detective Tsukauchi is forced to hand in his case files on the League. Unless we find compelling legal arguments that will help us maintain our guardianship and remain in charge of the investigation, we will be made to turn Chisaki over to their operatives."

From the corner of his eyes Aizawa could see Recovery Girl tense in her seat beside the small coffee table, her jaw clenching in clear disapproval. To his surprise, he found himself abruptly sharing the sentiment, his eyes narrowing at the thought of what might come upon the injured yakuza behind the Commission's closed doors.

They all knew what would happen to Chisaki if he were to fall into the hands of the HPSC.

However, when he spoke again, his voice was even, borderline bored. Hiding the tightly controlled anger. Letting their emotions get the best of them would not help them in their current situation in the least.

"Can't say we didn't expect this. The League of Villains is too big a case for them not to get involved. I'm just surprised they didn't act sooner."

Nezu inclined his head. "Yes. It is their belief that they will achieve better results than what we were able to get so far, and I'm afraid now they will not be so easily dissuaded."

"And have they mentioned the methods they plan to use to extract the information?" Recovery Girl asked, her voice full of tightly controlled rage. "That man has been through enough. This charade must come to an end eventually. He may be a villain, but he is still a human being! What he needs is a hospital, therapy, not people poking and prodding him, forcing him to relive every little detail of his experience only for him to be discarded like garbage once he's served his purpose! He doesn't deserve to be put through even more pain than he already has, nobody does. That is not the heroes' way."

All Might flinched. Nezu shifted in his seat in a rare display of discomfort. Aizawa slowly turned to glance at the woman over one shoulder, his dark eyes boring into hers, voice quiet when he spoke.

"He's already deteriorating, isn't he?"

He already knew the answer before she could even reply to him.

"I've put him on suicide watch." Recovery Girl confirmed after a long pause, her eyes downcast. "Removed everything potentially dangerous from his ward. But he's a smart man. We all know that if he really wants to end his suffering, he'll find a way out. Regardless of our efforts to stop him."

They did know. That didn't make it any easier for them to acknowledge, or accept it, however, a sudden chill pervading the room as the stark reality of their situation fully sank in. 

"Have you started him on benzodiazepines?" All Might asked softly, a heavy hand rubbing at the back of his neck, the former hero looking more exhausted than ever. "Maybe even certain antidepressants if it really has come down to it. The works."

"I have," the woman admitted, though there was a certain reluctance pervading her words, as if she were not too happy about that decision. "But it isn't a solution. His trauma needs to be dealt with directly, neither he, nor we can rely on medication to solve all his problems. More than that, it's difficult enough to get him to eat on his own, much less take any medicine. And I don't wish to indulge his dependency on intravenous nutrition any longer."

A tense silence fell upon the Principal's office, a sense of deep unease all but palpable in the chilly evening air between them.

Aizawa could easily admit that he hated Kai Chisaki. Loathed him with every inch of his being. Despised him for making Eri cry, still making her cry even three years after her rescue. Cursed the villain's name every time his precious little girl woke in the middle of the night, screaming and sobbing in guilt and terror. Talking about how much she hated her quirk, how she was cursed. How she broke people, and created problems for everyone. Only quieting when either he, or Hizashi held her in their arms, and even then it would take a long time for them to calm her. To assure her that there was nothing wrong with her. That she wasn't a curse. That she wasn't born to hurt others.

That she didn't mean to kill her father.

And yet, despite his animosity, he could still feel something cold sinking into his insides now, his chest feeling tight as the news fully sunk in. As he realized that this was really happening, even though some small, secret part of him had hoped it wouldn't. That Chisaki wouldn't go down this road like so many other victims of violence had before him. For Izuku's sake.

And yet he had known this could happen. Had read the telltale signs about as well as everyone else in the room. Had seen this over his long years as an underground hero perhaps as many times as Recovery Girl herself had. Had rescued many other people in hostage situations, and abusive relationships and subsequently lost them as they inevitably self-destructed. Watched them as they slowly withered away, some managing to pull through in the end, but others going on a downward spiral they could never seem to recover from.

Like Chisaki was doing now.

When he spoke again his voice was barely audible, little more than a whisper.

"Does Midoriya know?"

Surprisingly it was All Might who answered him. 

"No, I… have not yet found the opportunity to tell him."

Aizawa's eyes flashed red, the familiar feeling of anger stirring within his chest.

"You're letting him be blindsided by this?" He asked, his vocals as hard as steel, full of tightly controlled rage. "It's bad enough that you allow Midoriya to continue seeing Chisaki, a man who nearly killed him three years ago, with no preparation or experience with handling this level of trauma. Now you're not even going to tell the kid about the possibility of us losing him? Tell me, does he even know the details of this case, or has he gone in completely blind? Does he know how Chisaki was found chained up in some dusty basement like an animal, beaten within an inch of his life? How he'd screamed for days on end, hoping that someone would hear him, uncaring that he could finally be killed for attempting to escape? How he'd begged the heroes on the scene to finish the job and just put him out of his misery? You've seen how bad his condition was yourself, All Might. You've had to hold him still on several occasions as well."

"Does he even know about the traces of semen that were found on Chisaki during examination? Fully understand what they did to him?"

"He doesn't need to know such details," All Might cut him off, an undeniable edge pervading his own voice. "They are not relevant to what he's trying to do." 

"Of course they're relevant." Aizawa snapped, his hair stirring against his shoulders as his quirk crawled beneath his skin, threatening to activate with the force of his indignation. "Make up your damn mind. Are you really going to let him go through with this, or are you going to protect him forever, because you can't do both. If he's really going to try and pull Kai Chisaki out of this downward spiral he has to know what he's working with. He has to understand what happened. Because when that villain goes ahead and spills his own blood, and Midoriya doesn't understand why, you know the first person the kid blames will be himself. We can't afford to keep treating him like a child. We're far past that point, All Might. You, as his teacher, can't afford it most of all."

All Might diverted his gaze. Aizawa heaved a heavy sigh.

When he spoke again, his voice was considerably softer. More understanding.

"He should know at the very least that it's not his fault. That there are people you just can't save. Because at the end of the day... they don't really want you to." 

When only silence met his words, Aizawa turned away, facing Nezu who'd remained silent for the entirety of the heated conversation, black eyes meeting equally dark ones.

"Now, what are we going to do about the Commission?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The sensation of water against his skin was no longer comforting.

Despite his best efforts to remain still, Chisaki was unable to stop himself from shuddering where he sat in the clean bathtub, his breath hitching with panic at every splash against his skin, the terrifying, suffocating sensation of drowning overpowering any rational thought he might've had.

He'd known this would happen of course. There was simply no way he wasn't going to be washed eventually once the major stitches had been removed. Doesn't mean that he hadn't dreaded it with every inch of his being though.

Even being forced to tolerate his own filth was better than this.

Chisaki supposed it could be worse though. He could've been forced into a shower, made to feel the tiny pellets of water assault him from above just like during that one terrifying night two years ago. The temperature could be cold as opposed to the pleasant, but not scorching warmth encapsulating him now. The nurse could insist on being more hands-on instead of giving him his space, allowing him to have some agency as he slowly washed himself, only interfering to help him with areas that he couldn't easily reach. And even though she still refused to leave him alone (his best guess was in fear he'd try and drown himself), he was still grateful for that small amount of consideration.

Gloved hands gently brushed against his back, and he wasn't able to keep himself from flinching at the soft caress, a weak, pitiful sound of distress wringing itself from the depths of his throat against his wishes. 

A heavy sigh left the woman's lips.

"Come on, dear, we have to get you cleaned up. Let me do my work here."

Feeling sick at the unwanted touches despite knowing that the nurse didn't have any other choice, he curled up, forcing himself to power through it, knees pressing protectively into his thin chest, his dull, almost soulless eyes watching the soapy water swirl in elaborate patterns around him.

Chisaki vaguely remembered taking baths like this, over three years ago now. Remembered Chrono preparing them for him, making sure the temperature was perfect, that all the soaps were stacked neatly within easy reach, even being so attentive as to add flowery scents that he secretly liked so much to the water… Remembered the fleeting, small smiles the other man used to give him during the rare occasions his face was uncovered, thin lips quirking in that familiar, cheeky way from their childhood, dark eyes glinting with affection that he held only for Kai.

Chrono.

He hadn't thought of his childhood friend in a while. Simply hadn't been able to bring himself to think about the other man in years, shame clouding his memories, even as longing made his heart ache within his chest. Shame and guilt.

It was his fault Chrono— Hari was in prison. His fault that the organization both of them had so cherished was gone. His fault that neither of them had anything left, both of their lives ruined by Chisaki's mistakes. If Hari even still had his life. Prison wasn't a nice place for child abusers, even when packed with villains who had equally gruesome acts attached to their names. If anything, that only made things worse, increasing the likelihood of being stabbed to death within the first week.

Dabi certainly seemed confident that such a fate had befallen the man.

What made it even worse was that Chisaki never got to apologize to him. Never got to ask for forgiveness for using him in the manner he did, even though he had promised not to. Had pledged his friendship when they were kids, both of them swearing to never use their quirks, or other means to harm each other. And yet… he had taken advantage of Hari's feelings for him. Had used that interest to gain the man's utmost loyalty, too caught up in his goal of changing society to spare a single thought to what he was doing to the second closest person to him, believing that neither of them had time for such things. And now Chrono— Hari was gone, either driven insane by being locked up in a prison full of deranged villains, or long since disposed of by those disgusted by his crimes, and Chisaki would never see him again.

Just like Pops.

His insides clenched painfully at the thought.

Thinking about Hari hurt.

"Come on, honey." 

Gentle hands helped him out of the tub and supported him as he half-heartedly dried himself off, Chisaki still far too weak to be able to walk on his own, or even remain upright for long periods of time without assistance. To say his muscles had atrophied considerably over his long imprisonment and months of bedrest would be an understatement. At this rate it was safe to say that Chisaki would have to relearn how to walk entirely.

If he ever lived to see that point that is.

"Izuku was wondering if he could visit you around lunchtime. Do you wish to see him?" 

Well, at least she was asking him instead of forcing the boy's presence onto him.

Chisaki wished that he could say no. Wished he could proclaim that he didn't want that hero scum anywhere near him, but the truth of the matter was, the boy was perhaps the only one whose presence he could truly tolerate in this school full of diseased people. Aside from the nurse that is. Having him around was… as much as he hated to admit it, almost pleasant, soothing, his insistent, excited chatter about one thing or other briefly chasing away the dark thoughts that seemed to incessantly plague the yakuza's mind.

When Izuku was around Dabi's voice seemed just a little fainter. And when Chisaki was all alone, the villain's shadow came back to hover over him like a storm cloud, clawed hands curling around his tiny form, and crept into the dark corners of his ward, turquoise eyes glaring at him from the darkness; threatening to swallow him whole.

His head dipped in a shallow, barely visible nod, the injured yakuza quickly averting his gaze, and a faint smile ghosted over the woman's lips, her aged eyes crinkling at the corners and emitting a warm glow. 

Something about the soft expression made him feel just a bit warmer, memories of walking through the hydrangea gardens flashing before his eyes, along with glimpses of a warm hand reaching out and settling lightly on his head, gentle fingers carding through his short, messed up locks.

His heart ached within his chest.

"All right."

And as Recovery Girl helped him back to his hospital bed, he couldn't help but wonder that maybe some people would truly care if he were gone, despite being repeatedly told that they wouldn't. And as he reached down to claw and tug at the slightly loose shard of metal that threatened to separate from the rail of his bed frame (utterly disregarding the way it dug deep into his fingertips, causing blood to sluggishly leak to the floor from the cuts), the man couldn't help but wonder if there was something he would end up missing about this world after all.

If Dabi had been wrong.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The door refused to budge beneath his hand.

Slamming his fist against the unrelenting silver surface and barely resisting the intense urge to kick it for good measure, Bakugo turned away from it in a huff, ruby eyes flickering to the camera peering at him from above, its tiny red light boring a hole into into his form. Flipping the annoying little black lens the bird, he stalked out of Recovery Girl's empty office, clenched hands shoving themselves deep into his pockets, balled into tight fists.

"So, you let the stupid nerd in, but not me?" He thought, features darkening in an angered snarl. "Fucker."

Irritation scratching beneath his skin, the blond felt an intense urge to blow something up to vent out his frustration. Perhaps he could sneak into the training grounds again. Just imagine— an entire hour of his life pointlessly wasted sneaking around corners, waiting for Recovery Girl to leave and for the hallways to be empty before sneaking into the woman's office. And for what? To stand for 10 minutes in front of a stupid door, unable to enter because whoever was watching him on the cameras kept him locked out?! 

Perhaps blowing down the entire wall had been a viable option after all. But at the time Bakugo hadn't wanted to draw unnecessary attention to himself. 

Or startle whoever was on the other side of that silver door. Kami, he was going soft.

The furious hiss of foreign vocals broke him out of his brief cogitation, and he immediately stilled, back pressing against the wall before he could turn the corner, ruby eyes narrowing into tiny, suspicious slits.

Bakugo knew those voices. But he had to admit, he'd never heard them sound so angry.

"— I just want to know what's going on, Izuku!" Mirio snapped, the normal cheerfulness gone from his tone, and Bakugo could practically imagine the frown uncharacteristically plastered across the hero's face, those large hands clenched into tight fists. "You've been avoiding her for months now! Turning down every invitation to see her, and barely even writing letters despite knowing how much she enjoys them! She thinks you've abandoned her, and doesn't even understand why! Can you imagine how painful that is? How much it hurts her? Just the other day she asked me if she did something wrong, and pushed you away, and how am I supposed to convince her that it isn't her fault when I myself can't understand why you're acting like this! If you're in some kind of trouble, I could help you, Izuku! I just need you to be honest with me and we can—"

When Deku suddenly cut him off, there was pain in the boy's voice.

"No, I'm not, I told you, I-I just... I got really caught up in training. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make Eri feel this way. It's just— It's my final year in UA high-school, and I still need to apply for UA University, and with all these new aspects to my quirk—"

But Bakugo could tell how weak those excuses were. How unconvinced Deku sounded in what he himself was trying to say. How desperate. 

Well, he supposed it did make sense. Deku had never been a good liar.

And it seemed that Mirio shared that opinion as well, because when the hero spoke again his voice was full of hurt.

"I wish you'd've trusted me more than this, Izu." Mirio said, his voice unusually soft and sorrowful. "I'm sure whatever it was, I would've understood you, would've helped you. Because at the end of the day we're still friends, and I've known you long enough to know that you wouldn't do something like this without good reason. That you're genuinely a kind-hearted, decent kid who's trying his very best to become a hero worthy of succeeding All Might. And it hurts me that you won't let me in, even when you're so clearly in need of help yourself. There's no shame in admitting that, you know. Most forget this, but heroes are people too. I just… I wish you could have remembered that as well."

Deku never replied to that.

Waiting a few minutes for Toogata's footsteps to finally fade away, Bakugo soundlessly pushed himself off the cold wall, purposely stomping loudly on the floor as he rounded the corner, ruby eyes falling on Deku's hunched form.

"What are you crying about, moron?" He griped, pretending he hadn't overheard the last half of the conversation and watching as the boy hastily wiped away the tears trickling down his freckled cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Making sure to bump his shoulder against Deku's as he stalked past, he glared at him from beneath messy strands of spiky blond hair, lips curled in an all too familiar snarl. "Come on, I heard the training grounds are empty today. Kami knows you need the extra practice, you're a fucking embarrassment." 

A shaky, watery smile forced itself onto Deku's lips at those words. Bakugo felt his own curl at the sight even as a faint sense of worry and pity wormed its way into his heart.

Taking care of whoever was on the other side of Recovery Girl's secret door was clearly taking its toll on his classmate. Just like the intangible bastard had said.

He forcefully squashed the feeling as soon as it appeared.

"Y-yeah, y-you're right. I guess I could use the exercise. S-sor—"

"—Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked before he could be forced to listen to the idiot's litany of useless apologies, turning his back on the other boy. "Let's just go."

Not even waiting for the other to catch up, Bakugo stalked down the sunny hallways, crimson eyes focused straight ahead.

Even though he already had an idea of what the other was hiding, one of these days he would still find out exactly what was on the other side of that silver door. Bakugo swore it.

Chapter Text

… What should I do, sir? How can I tell him the truth? How can I look that boy straight in the eye, and tell him that the evil he's already witnessed in this world, the one he's faced directly — is nothing compared to the true darkness a man is capable of?..

I know Aizawa's intentions are well-placed. I know that this is the best thing I can possibly do for him: to open his eyes to reality before he can be crushed by it. To give him the opportunity to prepare himself in advance. But I… I just can't bring myself to do it. I can't lay this kind of burden upon his shoulders. No matter how hard I try, every time I imagine sitting across from him, telling him about what they did to that man, I— I feel something within me break. 

Yesterday I happened to walk past a group of kids in the street. They were staring at the TV screens showcasing Endeavor's latest arrest. A rather showy performance, even for him. Then I heard some of them say how they were going to be great heroes like him one day too… climb all the way up to the top tens... and something about that innocent desire made me pause.

I just… I don't think anyone really imagines what really comes with being a hero besides the riches and fame. I don't think anybody realizes what horrors they will eventually have to face in their careers. What kind of sheer savagery they will have a front row seat to, be forced to watch as man hurts fellow man. All these students I see walking down the halls of this prestigious school... Even though they've already been here for months, years, most still do not see it… talk so cheerfully and contemplate their futures, all the while remaining blissfully oblivious to the fact that just beyond a few walls there lies a person for whom every second of his life is pure agony. And I have to wonder: when will they be forced to awaken to reality? When will they realize that most of those smiles staring at them from colorful posters… are in fact hiding pain?

After Tsukauchi first brought me to that hospital, I— I couldn't leave. At first I thought it was because I wanted to look him in the eye - the murderer of one of my closest friends. To stare directly into his soul, and see if the old monster still lurked beneath the surface, waiting to take yet another victim. I'm not entirely sure what I was hoping to find, nor what I was expecting from him. An apology? At the very least? Probably not. No sort of apology would ever make me forgive him. But maybe… maybe some part of me was still searching for it regardless, looking for even the barest glimmer of remorse, of some humanity, no matter how much my mind told me how unlikely I was to see it. 

But the moment I stepped into that lonely hospital room and laid my eyes on him - my anger vanished. You should've seen him, sir… I've witnessed pain before. Despair. Death. However, rarely have I seen things like this in my long years as this world's Symbol of Hope. Been faced with such extraordinary cruelty. Heartlessness. Sadism.

He hardly looked human, he was so thin… Little more than skin and bones. He seemed to practically drown beneath the covers draped over his form. I could barely see him through all the countless bandages wrapped around his body, as if every inch of his skin bore some kind of injury. Lying there, in a hospital bed that seemed too big for him, he seemed so tiny to me then, so fragile. It looked as if even the slightest touch would be enough to snap him in two. And I thought: how could this man be the reason I will never see, or speak to Nighteye again?

Ashamed of my intentions, I was about to leave, and that's when I heard it: 

"Pops."

Turns out he was calling for his father in his sleep. The old Shie Hassaikai boss. And before I knew it, he was crying, screaming, thrashing around, as if trying desperately to escape someone's hold. By the time the nurses got there, he was in full blown hysteria, and I was cradling him in my arms, trying to keep the poor man from pulling any stitches as we all worked to calm him down. 

Later I found out that he'd been having a lot of these nightmares. According to the nurses' words, they seemed to constantly plague him, never quite giving him reprieve. Whether he was asleep, or awake - it didn't matter. He was in a living hell either way.

I couldn't bring myself to leave for a long time after that. I'm not sure what exactly compelled me to stay. Perhaps old habits do die hard, and the hero in me couldn't bear the idea of leaving this scared, injured man to face his demons alone. Or perhaps… perhaps I was still trying to convince myself that he deserved this. That I needn't feel sorry for him. Needn't feel guilty for being angry with him. Whatever the reason - I sat with him. The murderer of my friend. For as long as I possibly could. 

And now I have to relay everything I know to young Midoriya. Tell him of all the unspeakable cruelties Chisaki had been forced to face for his sins. Including the rape. 

I just— I guess I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to have this conversation with him for a long time. Even though he has already seen so much, been through so much - I thought that he could still keep some of his innocence. However, as much as I hate to say it, it would seem that fate is against us, and he will be forced to grow up faster than any of his peers no matter what I do. Especially if he still intends to save Kai Chisaki's life...

I hope this letter finds you in good health, sir. I can already feel the winds changing, and know that autumn's well on its way. I will be waiting patiently for your response, and keep you updated on the latest developments.

Yours,

Yagi Toshinori.

The paper rustled softly as he finally set it down, fluttering feebly onto the rickety coffee table before him, but he was no longer looking at it, his eyes distant and his thoughts - far away.

"Quite the pickle you've gotten yourself into, haven't you, Toshinori?" The man murmured at last with the faintest, bitter twitch of his lips, the small, ironic curl vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "And so has the kid…"

His gaze flickered to the copy of the case file Tsukauchi had sent him as a favor, detailing all the known information on the members of the League and their last known activities. Reaching out, he pulled it towards him and flipped it open, fingers thumbing through the pages before stopping on a certain one. A face of a young man stared back at him, his short, chestnut hair, ear piercings and sharp features making him seem deceptively pleasant, handsome, the only giveaway to his true, dark nature being the cold, vaguely smug glint within his golden eyes. Beneath it there were other photos, starkly different from the first. And the man within those was certainly not the same as in the original.

"So it's true what they say after all," Gran Torino murmured as he turned another page and stared into the frightened, absolutely terrified gaze of Nighteye's murderer, eyes crinkled in what could almost be called pity. "Pride does come before a fall, and you had to learn it the hard way, didn't you? You got overconfident, underestimated your opponents, messed with the wrong people, and just look where it all got you. Some things you deserved without a doubt. Most you didn't. Poor schmuck."

"And now other people are stuck cleaning up the mess."

Sighing and shaking his head, he tossed the file to the side, having already memorized everything within it, including what had been done to the unfortunate yakuza, and strode over to the nearby window, thumbs rubbing firm circles into his already aching temples. 

Yagi had already been eighteen when he'd received One for All, as opposed to Midoriya's fifteen. By the time he'd been faced with any truly gruesome cases he was an adult, ready and mature enough to take on such a burden. But as time went by, it was becoming increasingly more obvious that Midoriya would have to grow up quicker than Yagi ever had. Than any of them ever had. To take on responsibilities that even pro heroes with years of experience still struggled with.

All Gran Torino could do was hope that the boy would be able to handle it. When the time finally came.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"You want me to… eliminate him?"

The President stared back at him, impassive, her blue eyes as cold as ice.

"Is that a problem for you, agent?" She asked, her authoritive voice instinctively forcing him to stand up straighter, hands falling to his sides and wings folding behind his back. Submissive. "I'd have thought you'd have the stomach for these things by now. You must understand that he has to be terminated before he can expose our operations."

Hawks cleared his throat. 

"With all due respect, ma'am, I believe such an action is inadvisable."

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously at those words, her fingers lacing upon the smooth surface of the office table. A seemingly innocuous gesture, but one he knew all too well. The President did not like being challenged. By expressing disapproval he was entering dangerous waters. Whether or not he played the game right in the next few minutes would decide whether Kai Chisaki's life ended that very evening, or was spared for another day.

"Oh?"

"The villain Dabi is a sharp man, President," he began, forcefully keeping his tone as neutral and respectful as possible. "And he's my only ticket into the League. If he were to somehow learn that Kai Chisaki died while in hero custody, he would understandably get suspicious. If the HPSC, police and heroes were really that desperate to locate the League, as they claim, it's logical to assume they'd throw everything they had into ensuring the yakuza's safety, and deploy every resource at their disposal into squeezing as much intel out of him as possible. Somehow 'neglecting' him and allowing him to have an unfortunate 'accident' would be setting off too many alarm bells. He'd know something was up. On the other hand, if we were to instead simply secure full custody of Chisaki, and hold him within the HPSC, and I don't manage to act worried enough of my 'betrayal' being discovered - it will have the same negative effect. And I'd really rather not earn his ire by assassinating his favorite punching bag. Either way you look at it, ma'am, - we would be sabotaging our own investigation."

"Not to mention the fact that UA will definitely be putting up a struggle before finally handing him over to us. And we don't want someone like Nezu poking their nose into our business."

Please see that it's more trouble than it's worth… please see that it's more trouble than it's worth...

The woman's eyes narrowed even further. Hawks could tell she was carefully mulling his words over, seeing the reason within them. But he wasn't in the clear just yet. No. He couldn't afford to relax. To lower his guard.

"And what would you suggest instead, agent?" She asked at last, her eyes never leaving his form.

Hawks swallowed.

"Reach out to Nezu," he said, rocking back on his heels, hands shoving themselves deep into his pockets. "Act contrite. Say that you've changed your mind about taking complete control of this investigation, that this isn't the right time for all of us to be at each other's throats, and that we should instead work together if we are to locate and bring down the League of Villains." 

"And why would I do that?"

"Because it will give me access to Kai Chisaki." Hawks said, unable to keep the sliver of bitterness out of his voice. He hoped she wouldn't notice it. "I'll be able to enter his ward under the guise of questioning him at regular intervals, but in reality I will be using those visits to keep him in line. Remind him to keep his mouth shut. That way the potential threat is neutralized, I stay on Dabi's good side, and our mission proceeds unhindered."

The President's posture relaxed. When she spoke again, her voice was a fraction less cold. More questioning, thoughtful, rather than combative like before. It was a good sign. He refused to let himself be fooled by it, however. Not when he knew she could still turn against him at a moment's notice. "And how will you accomplish that?"

His lips twitched.

"The villains aren't the only ones who hurt that man," he said, fingers curling into a tight fist within the safety of his pocket. "Strong stomach, remember? I'm sure a few threats and promises to return him to the League if he... misbehaves... will do the trick nicely."

A small smile played at the corners of the woman's lips. 

"Well played, agent." She conceded at last, turning her gaze away and reaching for the stack of files at her side, punctiliously perusing through them. "Very well. We'll cooperate with the police force, obtain access to Kai Chisaki for you. However, if we are to successfully keep our operations quiet, we also expect you to keep a close eye on our colleagues at UA high-school, and their investigation. Make sure to steer them away if they start getting close to your role in Chisaki's captivity."

However, when she looked back at him, her eyes were hard as steel once more.

"But… on the off chance your gamble doesn't pay off, and you sense that Kai Chisaki is about to divulge something sensitive… I want you to silence him before he can. No hesitation. Our work is too important to be exposed so early. Let us worry about the excuses to the League and UA. Is that clear, agent Takami?"

Hawks' head dipped in acknowledgement of her order, a slow sigh of relief slipping past his lips despite his best efforts of holding it back.

"Crystal, ma'am."

The wind felt comforting against his feathers.

As he soared through the night sky in the direction of the latest meeting site that had been sent to his burner phone, Hawks couldn't help but think back on the recent conversation, insides roiling with nausea at what had just transpired between him and the Commission.

Conspiring to threaten an injured, traumatized and suicidal man… as if everything you've already done to him wasn't enough… You've certainly reached a new low, Keigo.

But there was no other choice. He knew there wasn't. If this whole thing was to succeed, if he were to earn Dabi's trust and gain full access to the villains' plans - he had to do this. He had to keep Chisaki quiet. By any means necessary. For as long as he possibly could.

And… more than that, this was perhaps the only way he could see to convince the Commission to spare Chisaki. To save the life of the man he himself had spent tormenting for the last two and a half years in hopes of gaining Dabi's favor.

Sometimes… Hawks really had to wonder if he could be called a hero at all.

The villain was already there waiting for him when Hawks landed effortlessly upon the flat surface of the abandoned roof, the pale, dim light of a cheap cigarette by far the only source of any brightness in the twilight shadows that had long since fallen upon their little world. Swallowing heavily, he approached the dark figure, every step feeling like it was taking him closer to his doom. Like it could be his last. Which… honestly wasn't an exaggeration. Dabi was unpredictable as it were. However, ever since the yakuza's escape he seemed to be even more unhinged than usual, there was more aggression in his body language, in his words and actions, no matter how casual and nonchalant he pretended to be about the entire matter.

Losing his favorite pet had stung Dabi's pride. That much was obvious. 

"Enjoying the view?" Hawks quipped, forcefully schooling his features into his usual, lazy grin, amber eyes twinkling in the faint light of the scintillating city lights below. "Didn't think you were the kinda guy to enjoy things like that, but I guess I don't blame ya. It's a nice night."

A soft chuckle left the villain's lips, the chilling sound sending shivers running down the man's spine, and it took everything within him not to step back, to remain relaxed as Dabi finally turned around to face him, leaning back against the rusty railing, his turquoise eyes gleaming eerily in the low light of the night shadows. 

"About time you got here, Birdie. I was starting to get impatient."

Hawks knew that that wasn't true. He couldn't be more than a minute late. The villain was definitely more unstable than usual, trying to get him to slip up, make a mistake. He'd have to tread carefully.

"What can I say? Everybody wants my help and I gotta keep up appearances." He shrugged, feigning annoyance at the prospect of fulfilling any hero work, watching the burnt villain carefully from the corner of his eyes. "Can't do anything without me, incompetent hacks. Can't wait till we rid the world of 'em."

Dabi hummed. 

"Your tardiness wouldn't have anything to do with the little pet we'd misplaced, would it?"

Hawks froze where he stood.

He couldn't know… No, of course he couldn't! Keigo was just being paranoid, and that was exactly what Dabi wanted. The villain was trying to get under his skin, to force him to give something up. He wouldn't let him.

Hawks forced himself to relax. A crooked grin played at the corners of the villain's ruined lips, but there was undeniably a calculating glint within his cold gaze now, a silent test.

One Hawks fully intended to pass.

"Perhaps," he shrugged, feigning carelessness, his tone carefully flippant, bordering on teasing. "Why? You worried he'll air all your dirty laundry to the heroes, Dabs? Tell them you still sleep with a teddy bear at night?"

The villain's face contorted in an equally facetious smile. Hawks felt faintly sick, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably.

Everything about that grin spelled danger.

"Nah, I'm not." Dabi admitted quietly, taking another slow drag from his cigarette, puffing out a cloud of noxious smoke. "My Princess knows to keep his pretty mouth shut when it comes to my business. I taught him a good lesson the last time he tried. Your secrets though… Now that's another story. Aren't you a little worried he might just mention your visits?"

And there it was again. The test. The sense of impending danger, the dawning realization that whether or not he died tonight depended entirely on his next response. That if he made even the smallest misstep: answering either too quickly, or too slowly, or even doing so much as using the wrong word - he would be burned to a crisp without a second thought.

He would not give Dabi that opportunity.

"Well, that's the good news, isn't it?" He smiled, forcefully spreading and fluttering his wings as if he were preening, when in reality he was keeping them away from his hands, lest he be tempted to reach for his feather blades. "You've shaken the arrogant bastards at the HPSC so much that they're desperate enough to join up with the police and UA if it means getting even a hint of your whereabouts. Thus putting me in charge of questioning your little runaway alongside the other detectives."

Well that certainly got the villain's attention.

"Really?" Dabi asked, and this time there was genuine amazement in his voice, a pleased sort of surprise. There was no doubt that the news had stroked the guy's ego, knowing that he and his pals had scared the revered and fabled Commission so much that they were willing to align themselves with those they considered beneath them. Good. Keeping the villain happy and distracted like this was by far the best way to win his trust, all the while making sure he never caught onto Hawks' true intentions.

"Yep!" The hero grinned, amber eyes twinkling with carefully crafted triumph in the bright, corruscating city lights below. "You've scared the arrogant bastards so much that they're shitting their pants and running for help. As for our… misplaced pet, I'm positive a few visits will be enough to remind him of his place. Don't want those false ideas of freedom and heroics setting in, do we? I'm sure in a couple of weeks I'll be able to find a way to return him to his proper owners—"

"No."

This time it was Hawks' turn to pause, his mouth momentarily falling open, before quickly snapping shut, amber eyes flashing towards the disfigured villain.

What?

"No?"

Dabi grinned. "No."

A nervous chuckle left Hawks' lips against his wishes, a deep feeling of unease sinking deep into his core. "I'm… not sure I understand you, Dabs…"

It didn't make sense. The villain had been beside himself with rage ever since the yakuza had made his escape. Unpredictable. More violent than ever. When he'd first learned his favorite toy was in hero custody, Hawks had been sure the man would go on a rampage, blue flames licking at Dabi's arms, threatening to engulf him whole. So... Why was he suddenly so nonchalant now?

Had he made a mistake? Had he misstepped after all?

Dabi pushed off the rusty rails he'd been leaning against up till now, the remains of his cigarette falling to the dusty surface of the abandoned roof below and turning into a pile of ash beneath the soles of his boots as he stepped on it, turquoise eyes leering eerily in the dark shadows of the night sky.

"Let him think he got away." The villain said, a nasty smile practically palpable within his rasping vocals. "Keep him scared, but hopeful. Let him think that while he's staying at UA he's safe. That maybe he can actually be saved. It'll be so much sweeter to see that hope shatter within his eyes when I finally come back for what's rightfully mine. When I bring him home."

Turquoise eyes gleamed in the darkness shrouding the lonely rooftop.

"I want to watch his soul burn to ashes when hero society falls, and he realizes that no one will ever be able to save him from me."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Training with Bakugo, using his quirk again was... nicer than he remembered.

Feeling One for All dance across his skin, adrenaline pump through his veins as he weaved, and dodged, and kicked brought him a sense of relief so strong it could almost be called cathartic, all his anger, his hurt and helplessness and guilt pouring out the longer he wrestled with the other boy, dodging well aimed explosions and blows.

In the past several months Deku had almost forgotten how good it felt, to temporarily forget about the problems plaguing him every second of every day, to lose himself in the here and now. While he was fighting there was no time to think about Chisaki, to worry about the League of Villains… to crumble beneath the guilt of what he'd done to Eri. No. There was only the rush of excitement, of danger, of energy pumping through his body as he sparred, all of these sensations successfully chasing away the upsetting memories of his latest argument.

Izuku would be lying if he said that the conversion with Mirio hadn't shaken him, hadn't made him doubt his decision and want to confess everything he knew to the other boy, to feel the righteous anger directed at him for his choice. He'd deserve it after what he'd done, after all. Deku had been so caught up in his own guilt of choosing to help Chisaki, that he hadn't even considered how it would affect Eri. Had been so self-absorbed, so selfish as to wallow in his own self-hatred and pity, distancing himself from her because he felt like he didn't deserve being near her, all the while never once stopping to think about how it would hurt the girl too.

Eri didn't know what he had done. Didn't know how he'd reached out to her former abuser, the very monster who's ghost still haunted her to this day, and comforted him. Held him in his arms when he cried. Told him stories when his traumatic memories threatened to overtake him once again. Tried to make him smile by occasionally bringing him small gifts, some of them (such as the handcrafted mask) failing miserably, but others (like the purple fur blanket he'd purchased after taking notice of Chisaki's incessant shivering and searching through several stores to find something to warm him) bringing back the lively sparkle to the villain's eyes, the tiniest hints of genuine happiness.

He'd stumbled upon the man cocooned within it more than once now, the yakuza's face buried deep into the comfortable, soft material, chest rising and falling evenly in his peaceful, and (thankfully) nightmare-free sleep. To say that his heart didn't warm at the sight would be a lie.

The point of the matter was that Eri simply didn't know who he was spending all his free time helping… And Deku didn't have the heart to tell her, to taint her with his continued presence and friendship because he hadn't been able to turn his back on someone who'd done so much evil and been rightfully punished for it. Had simply been too weak, too much of a bleeding heart to forget Kai Chisaki, to leave him to his well deserved fate.  

When he certainly should have.

And now she thought that he had abandoned her. That she had done something wrong. That it was somehow her fault. When it most certainly wasn't. When it was Deku's fault that he could no longer visit her in good conscience. That he could no longer be her hero.

Because what kind of hero would ever turn around and rescue the villain who'd brought a six year old girl so much pain and devastation?

"Midoriya? What are you doing here?"

The quiet voice broke him out of his deep musings, and he turned to glance sharply over one shoulder, nearly losing his balance on the thick railing of one of UA's balconies in his haste, emerald eyes meeting startling onyx. 

"M-mister Aizawa!" He sputtered, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice, face flushing red with embarrassment. 

How had he not noticed his teacher's approach? Stupid. He should've made sure to pay more attention to his surroundings... Rookie mistake. 

"I-I was just… um…" He tried to think of something, come up with some sort of excuse, but his mind kept drawing a blank just like during his conversation with Mirio. Kami, why was it so overwhelmingly difficult for him to think of something that wouldn't arouse any suspicion? Wouldn't make people worry?

"I want to be strong, so I won't worry anyone."

Then why was he so weak?

Aizawa's gaze softened in understanding. The railing creaked quietly in protest as the man came up to the distressed youth and took a seat next to him, eyes flickering toward the distant horizon. 

For a moment neither of them spoke, a tense silence falling between them. Remembering the events of the last 24 hours, Deku couldn't bring himself to look at his teacher, his emerald gaze falling to his clenched hands. His eyes burned, a familiar wetness gathering in their corners as guilt crashed upon him anew, and he forcefully pushed back the tears that threatened to spill down his face, willing himself not to break down. Not in front of Aizawa.

Not in front of the man whose daughter he'd betrayed. 

When it was clear that the boy wouldn't say anything first, the man breathed a heavy sigh, arms crossing tightly over his chest. 

"Mirio told me about your conversation today. He says you've been avoiding him and Eri. He's very worried about you, kid."

Shame sunk its claws into his heart, its weight suffocating, crushing, making it harder to push down the sobs that threatened to escape his thickening throat.

"I can't see him." Deku whispered, voice trembling, threatening to give way to tears. But it was so, so difficult to continue keeping his emotions in check… He was so tired of holding it all back… "I c-can't look at him. After what Ch-Chisaki did to him and Eri, to Sir Nighteye, I just..." A hiccup left his throat against his wishes, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back from crying, pain settling like a heavy weight over his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe.

"H-how can I be around them when I know I'm helping the man who hurt them?"

"Because you're just being what you are. A hero."

Deku looked up, crystalline tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and glistening in the evening light flooding the school grounds, painting their surroundings in rosy shades. Aizawa met his gaze without hesitation, onyx gaze staring deep into his emerald one, the look on his face unusually gentle, almost sorrowful.

"I won't lie to you, Midoriya. I didn't want you to take over Chisaki's case, because I knew just how hard it would be on you. How hard it would be on anyone who undertook such a task, in fact. Because I didn't think you were ready. But even if I don't like it - ultimately I'm proud of what you're doing here, kid. Because at the end of the day you're acting more heroic than anyone else in this entire school of heroes, putting aside your own feelings to help someone in need."

Deku's breath hitched, tears finally trickling down his freckled cheeks in glistening rivulets, the boy no longer able to hold them back.

A small, sad smile danced at the corner of the man's lips, his eyes never leaving the shaking form of the youth sitting beside him.

"You know what a true hero is, Midoriya? It's not someone who saves people to have some moral high ground over others. It's not someone who saves people for the attention it gets them. It's not someone who's desperate to prove themselves, to show the world that they are somehow better and stronger than others. No. Truth is, a real hero doesn't care about such things. A real hero is there to save all those in need, regardless of what terrible things they may have done in the past."

"There shouldn't be a criteria upon which we choose to help people, Midoriya. A hero's job isn't to judge, it's to save. If a hero starts picking and choosing to whom they should extend a helping hand based on their own experiences, on their own subjective thoughts and feelings - then how can they truly be called a hero? All they'll really be is a fraud. A person forcing their own worldview upon others, saving only those they personally deem worthy of their aid, when in reality they're supposed to remain impartial."

A heavy sigh left the man's lips.

"It's an ideal all of us strive towards," he confessed, voice quiet. "To try and not condemn those we don't want to save, because that's what the law exists for. But at the end of the day, all of us are just human, and there are some people we simply can't bring ourselves to help, no matter how hard we may try. If you need an example of that - you need not look farther than me, kid. I couldn't save Chisaki because that man once raised his hand to my daughter. Turned her life into a living hell. Made her cry."

"And that's exactly why I'm so proud of you, Problem Child." 

A warm hand settled lightly on his shoulder, and Deku sharply looked up, wide, tear-stricken eyes meeting his teacher's warm onyx ones. 

"You could do something I couldn't. You were able to push aside your personal feelings in order to help him. No matter how much he hurt you in the past, how much suffering he brought your friends and loved ones, you were still able to see the scared, helpless, wounded man in need of saving. You acted more heroically than anyone else. And you shouldn't feel ashamed of what you're doing here."

A smooth object was suddenly being pressed into his fingers, and to his great surprise the boy recognized his phone, the silver metal glowing softly in the crimson light of the setting sun.

Aizawa pushed off the sturdy railing, hands shoving themselves deep into his pockets as he made his way back to the balcony doors, stopping momentarily to peer at Deku over one shoulder, the look in his eyes firm.

"One day you'll have to come clean to her, I'm not saying you won't. Perhaps you'll even have to deal with the fact that she'll hate you. But that's not today, and right now you're hurting her as much as you're hurting yourself. Call her and apologize. Promise to come visit her soon. Both of you need it. And then make sure to stop by Recovery Girl's office before you leave for the dorms. You promised to visit him by noon, and it's already evening. Victims of trauma are highly reliant on established routines. It's not a good idea to stray from them for too long." 

Deku nodded silently and watched as the man turned to go, disappearing within the dark depths of the empty school, his eyes falling to the cellphone clutched tightly within his hands, thoughtfully twirling it within his fingers.

Calling Eri was easier said than done, especially after what he'd done to her. After the way he'd neglected her for months, hiding because he couldn't handle the shame of what he'd done, the sheer guilt of going behind her back. Truth be told, he still felt terrible for doing this to her, for helping the person who'd hurt her three years ago, but maybe… maybe Aizawa was right. Maybe what Deku was doing here was the right thing, even if most of the time it didn't feel that way.

Maybe he was truly being a hero.

It only took two rings before she picked up, the quiet click on the other side of the line barely audible and yet deafening at the same time. 

And when he finally heard her voice… after weeks upon weeks of thinking that he'd never hear it again… he felt his eyes burn with fresh tears, his lips trembling with the effort of keeping his emotions at bay.

"D-Deku? Is that you?.."

"Yeah, Eri." He smiled, voice shaking, fingers clenching tighter around the smooth surface of his phone.

"It's me."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The handle felt cold within his grasp. For some reason it was overwhelmingly difficult for him to bring himself to turn it. To enter the lonely ward and face the man confined within it. Doing it mere minutes after he'd talked to Eri, after he'd reconciled with her and promised to visit her soon... felt wrong. As if he were betraying her all over again. But… Deku now knew what he had to, and he wouldn't choose to abandon Chisaki. No. Not after everything both of them had gone through, after everything the yakuza had suffered during the three years of his imprisonment at the hands of the League of Villains, and especially not after the conversation Deku had just had.

If Eri one day ended up hating him… so be it. He accepted it. Knew he deserved it. But he wouldn't leave a person in need to suffer alone. Would instead be the hero he'd dreamed of being ever since he was a small, quirkless child watching footage of All Might on a computer screen, pulling on his mother's sleeve and imagining himself saving people with a smile. 

Letting a heavy sigh escape his lips, taking a moment to steady his breathing, he gently knocked against the door to announce his entrance, moving to turn the handle.

Only… he never quite got the chance to do so.

A heavy weight slammed into him from behind, all but knocking him off his feet and sending him flying through the passage, the door slamming against the wall with an ear-splitting bang.

Instinctively twisting in mid-air with practiced ease, feeling One for All surge through his veins in a powerful current and green lightning dance across his skin, Deku landed with a thud upon the polished floor of the hidden room, automatically sinking into a protective stance in front of the small hospital bed, his blazing green gaze falling upon the open doorway.

He could practically feel Chisaki startle behind him, the villain instantly scrambling backwards against the wall in his shock and panic, but the boy didn't turn around to check on him, too focused on their sudden attacker to soothe him.

Was it the League? Had they somehow snuck into UA?!

Crimson eyes glared at him from the dark depths of Recovery Girl's office, familiar features curled into a dark snarl of fury and small explosions dancing against upturned palms, creating spider web cracks in the stone walls surrounding them.

"I fucking knew it!" Bakugo said, voice dripping with triumph, mouth curling in a familiar feral grin. "I knew you were hiding something! You goddamn nerd."

Chapter Text

It was another, relatively boring morning for the heroes at the tiny, east-side hero agency on the outskirts of Musutafu. The sky was just starting to brighten, turning from a deep navy to a pleasant burgundy as the sun slowly clawed its way above the distant horizon, already promising a warm, balmy day. After the intense showers they'd been having for the better half of the week, it was a welcome reprieve, and most workers at the agency found themselves welcoming the crimson rays of sunlight that sneaked their way past the window shutters, despite the rather early hours.

Heroes and sidekicks lazily walked up and down the narrow passageways between cubicles, some returning from their night shifts and only stopping by to write up a report, some just coming in for the day, all of them without exception stifling yawns and holding cups of coffee from nearby cafés of their choice, the entire agency having long since chosen to forego the caffeinated beverages provided by their employer. Mostly due to unpleasant side-effects they produced. Namely nausea.

The overall lack of any excitement wasn't surprising. Nothing of particular interest ever happened here, on the very edges of Musutafu. Most criminal activity was centered downtown, at the very heart of the bustling metropolis, and was subsequently dealt with by the larger and more well known agencies in the area. They did get the occasional robberies, and muggings, and other disturbances, of course, but those were few and far between, mostly leaving the heroes with very little work to do.

That didn't bother the bat hero Sonar-Scope as much as it did most, however. In fact, it suited him just fine. The job was still decent, even with the absence of chases and fights and media attention. It had a decent salary, more or less flexible working hours, all the while requiring little to no actual work. What was there not to love about it? For many people it would sound like a dream come true.

But that didn’t mean that the job didn't come with its own set of drawbacks, however. Such as the slow days. Kami, he hated those. Paradoxically, despite the lack of increased villain activity in the area, the heroes here still dealt with their fair share of paperwork. And it was nothing short of murder. Hours upon hours of sitting at your desk, reading and signing countless documents… even someone as lazy as him inevitably started to wish for something exciting to happen. A robbery, a loud squabble between spouses that drew the attention of overly paranoid neighbors, a drunken bar fight - anything to get your mind off of the grating monotony of your day.

After about five minutes of staring at the slip of paper placed in front of him and reading the same line three times, Sonar-Scope had to admit to himself that it just wasn't working. His mind couldn't focus. He was too antsy, too on edge, he needed something to get the excess energy out of his system. But since fights and chases were highly unlikely to happen around here due to reasons already listed - a short flight around the blocks that were under the agency's jurisdiction would have to suffice. And it had been a while since he'd gotten to stretch his wings…

"I'm going on patrol," he relented at last, pushing himself away from his desk and standing up to his full height, cracking his spine with a satisfying pop that nevertheless made some of his nearby coworkers wince in sympathy. "Will you cover for me for a few hours?"

Maegara shot him a withering look from beneath her glistening curtain of auburn hair, fox-like ears angling backwards in annoyance. Despite her obvious vexation, however, she reached for his stack of papers without complaint, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as her workload doubled for the foreseeable future.

"You'll owe me," she said and he let his shoulders fall from their tense position, a relieved smile spreading across his pleasant face and brown eyes twinkling good-naturedly in the bright sunlight filtering through the adjacent window.

He knew he could rely on her.

"Of course."

The crisp morning air worked wonders on his mood the minute Sonar-Scope lifted off into the sky, effortlessly soaring over the medium sized structures that gradually morphed into skyscrapers the closer they got to the center of the city, the hero watching the sunlight dance merrily across the glass windows and shiny rooftops as he flew overhead, briefly casting them in shadow.

God, how long has it been since he'd last had a decent flight like this? He couldn't remember, but he was sure that it had been far too long. Sonar-Scope couldn't tell when was the last time he got to leave the stuffy offices, and utilizing his quirk while off-duty was just a recipe for getting fined. All these moronic quirk restrictions got so bothersome now that he thought about it... On the one hand it made sense: the government wanted to avoid the chaos that would inevitably erupt if quirks weren't kept in check until the laws were changed to fit them. But on the other hand… he personally couldn't imagine living under such severe limitations when he had the inherent urge to fly. It was part of the reason why he'd become a hero in the first place. So that he would live with more freedom than most, allowed to use his quirk without fear of being arrested. Perhaps not the most heroic reason for getting into the hero business, he'll admit, but it is what it is really. He couldn't imagine what life was like for other people with wing mutation quirks who weren't heroes. 

Forced to remain grounded by law, unable to answer the calls of the heavens and lose yourself in the exhilarating sensation of flight… that sounded like a very miserable existence to him. Very miserable indeed.

A sudden noise broke him out of his deep musings, and he inclined his head, eyes narrowing in concentration as he used his enhanced hearing to pinpoint its exact source, confusion swirling within his chest.

Strange… it sounded like running, but it was unlike anything Sonar-Scope had ever heard before. It seemed somehow… erratic. Frantic. Desperate even. Quite unlike the rhythmic footfalls of an early morning jogger. What the hell? What was going on?

And as he listened closer, he could discern the shallow, ragged, uneven breaths that accompanied it, the alarmingly fast beatings of a heart, and the quiet whimpers that sounded horrifically alike to stifled whines of pain. 

Someone was in trouble. That was by far the only explanation he could come up with, his teeth gritting together and brown eyes narrowing in determination.

Time to be a hero.

Quickly angling his wings, he plunged downwards toward the shadowy streets below, using echolocation as his guide as he searched for the source of the worrying noise, his sharp gaze raking over the muddy roads crisscrossing in somewhat haphazard, confusing patterns beneath him.

There!

Sprinting just below him was a human. Male, by the looks of it. Approximately in his early to mid twenties as he still retained something distinctly boyish in his appearance, despite clearly being fully grown. Though… there was something very odd about him as Sonar-Scope peered closer, something very off about his posture and gait.

The man looked somehow lopsided, unbalanced, stumbling every few running steps he took, so much so that the hero had to wonder how he hadn’t face planted into the dirt just yet. One of his legs didn't seem to be working properly, dragging along the ground more than the other, and though he couldn't see him properly due to the deep morning shadows still shrouding the narrow alleyway in darkness, Sonar-Scope could tell that there was something very wrong with his arms as well. And… wait. Was the man not wearing any clothes?!

Becoming increasingly more disturbed by the second, the hero fell into a sharp dive, landing gracefully in the middle of the muddied alley with a splash of filthy rainwater and squelch of wet dirt, effectively blocking the man's path and forcing him to skid to a halt a mere few feet away.

"Hey, you, stop right there!" 

… Perhaps not one of his smartest, or most eloquent moments, he'll admit, but it did the trick, didn't it?

Panicked, golden eyes peered back at him from the darkness of the narrow alleyway, framed by long lashes speckled with faintly glistening tears, the man's thin chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as he shifted where he'd come to an abrupt stop, swaying uncontrollably from side to side. Seemingly unable to keep his balance. Sonar-Scope barely withheld a curse.

Shit, he'd scared him.

Slowly raising his hands in front of him in a placating gesture, he let out a soft shushing sound as he carefully reached into his inner pocket for his hero badge, causing the man to shrink away at the unexpected movement, and held it out for the other to see as soon as his fingers clasped around it, voice quiet and impossibly gentle as he spoke. 

"Hey-hey-hey, it's okay. I'm a hero, see? Name's Sonar-Scope, but you can just call me Sonar for short. I can see that you're upset, and I'm here to help, all right? What's your name?"

The man didn't reply, backing away farther into the dark shadows of the grime covered alleyway, and the hero's shoulders sagged in disappointment and growing worry, brown eyes narrowing in concern. 

This was not normal.

"C'mon, man, I'm not gonna hurt you, I just wanna help. Are you injured? What were you running from?"

When silence prevailed once more, he took a few cautious steps in the stranger's direction, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when the other didn't immediately back away from him this time, his lips quirking in a soft, comforting smile he'd been trained to use when dealing with people in distress.

"Look, everything's gonna be just fine from now on, okay? I can promise you're safe now that I'm here. Just let me get a quick look at you, all right? If you're hurt I can administer first aid before getting you to a hospital."

Despite the dark shadows still largely concealing him from view, the hero could see the man's head dip in a tiny nod, and a relieved smile almost instantly spread across his face at the first display of trust, some of the tension leaving his hunched shoulders.

Good. Now they were getting somewhere.

However, no amount of hero training could ever prepare him for what he saw next when he finally drew closer, his breath catching in his throat in horror as he got a good look at the man he'd accidentally stumbled upon, brown eyes going wide at the heartbreaking sight.

Burns and bruises littered every inch of pale skin, spanning across the expanse of a thin chest and trailing all the way down the man's legs, centered especially around his stomach, groin, neck and face — a sure sign of this being very personal for the possible attacker. If you wanted to cause as much pain as possible — those were the areas you usually targeted. Sonar-Scope knew that from experience.

Crimson and white lines of fresh and old cuts crisscrossed over the man's sides and midsection, some of the newer ones sluggishly leaking blood. Those had most likely reopened while the poor guy was running. He wouldn't be too surprised if he found even more on the guy's back, given the sheer amount that could be found on the front.

One of the stranger's legs seemed reluctant to bear his full weight, a wince travelling through the thin, disheveled form every time the man tried to support himself as he would normally, small, stifled whines of pain leaving unseen lips at all the jostling. An old knee injury then. Nothing modern medicine couldn't fix, no matter how much time had passed, but very painful nonetheless. The hero didn't envy him. Having been a rather rowdy kid himself, Sonar had broken his legs a few times during childhood too. It wasn't a pleasant experience. That he knew all too well.

However, when his eyes finally reached the man's arms, Sonar-Scope had to do a double take, bile rising in his throat with startling speed at the horrifying sight.

They were missing.

"Jesus, man, what happened to you?" The hero breathed, reaching out to the injured stranger, only for the other to shrink away from his outstretched fingers with a shrill sound of fright, back slamming against the filthy wall behind him. Something glinted in the shadows at the violent movement, and Sonar's brown eyes flickered to the man's face, his breath stalling at the sight of the sickening object he'd somehow failed to notice up until this moment fastened around the guy's head.

A muzzle. Someone had forced a fucking muzzle on him. 

Stomach churning with revulsion, he reached for the leather straps, a soothing croon reverberating through his chest as the man tried to feebly evade his outstretched fingers, pressing flat against the wall of the building behind him. Almost as if the poor guy were trying to phase right through it. "Shhh, I'm not gonna hurt you, man. I'm just gonna get this disgusting thing off so you can breathe, okay? Then I'm gonna get you to a hospital and hunt down the bastard that did this to you, now, how's that sound? Sound good?"

After a few beats, the man hesitantly nodded and didn't lean away when the hero reached for him a second time, and Sonar-Scope wasted no time in getting the muzzle off, deft fingers undoing the straps with little difficulty despite how tightly they were tied around the guy's head, carefully avoiding pulling on filthy chestnut locks, the hero reluctant to hurt the other in any way, even if unintentionally.

The poor man had already endured enough pain to last him a lifetime. That much was painfully clear.

A barely audible murmur left the man's lips as Sonar-Scope carelessly tossed the muzzle to the side, resisting the urge to stomp on it for good measure until it was nothing but a pile of twisted metal, and his brown eyes flickered to the injured rescuee, brows furrowing in undisguised concern.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't quite catch that."

The man cleared his throat, his stumps twitching as if he were trying to hug himself with his now nonexistent arms, golden eyes downcast. When he finally spoke again his voice was quiet, impossibly hoarse and rough, as if it had not been used properly in months.

"H-help… me… pl-lease."

A soft smile spread across the hero's lips, his fingers reaching out and shedding his cloak in favor of wrapping it around the man's thin shoulders, covering his nude form, and shielding him from the biting, morning cold. 

"Hey, that's the plan, man. That's the plan."

He was about to guide the other out of the dingy alleyway and towards the nearest hospital, when heavy footsteps rang within the dark depths of the narrow street, steadily drawing closer, and the hero tilted his head to look...

"Oh, good, you found him. I was starting to get worried."

A deep voice rasped behind them and Sonar-Scope spun around, instinctively shielding the other with his body, brown eyes meeting glowing turquoise.

A lazy smile spread across the newcomer's shadowed features.

"You should be more careful, Kai. We don't want to bother the heroes with your clumsiness, now, do we?"

Brown eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"And who might you be?" Sonar asked, his voice forcefully light, conversational, hiding the suspicion and simmering fury as he discreetly peered around them, quickly assessing their current situation.

If this turned violent, the odds definitely weren't in his favor.

The turquoise gaze narrowed. Just slightly. But the sickening, amused glint never quite left them.

"I'm his boyfriend. Touya." The man said, hands slipping themselves casually into the deep pockets of his coat, something metallic glinting in the low light permeating the alleyway at the movement. Some kind of bracelets, or chains perhaps? "I'm sorry if Kai here bothered you, hero. I don't know what to do with him. Never looks where he's going, always bumps into people."

Sonar-Scope forced a smile onto his face, his heart giving a concerned twinge within his chest as the form behind him shuddered at the falsely pleasant words, a low, barely audible whimper of fright leaving 'Kai's' trembling lips.

"It's quite alright. I don't mind." He said, the easy grin never quite leaving his face, even as he wondered how he would get the both of them out of this. It was becoming increasingly more clear to him what he was most likely dealing with here now - a case of domestic abuse. And a pretty nasty one at that.

His eyes strayed to the man’s missing arms.

All of which simply meant that if he couldn't isolate Kai now, he'd have to lure both men to a secure location, like a hospital, and then separate them under some excuse, hopefully getting the victim to confess the abuse and putting this 'Touya' under arrest. A tricky task, but he could do it. If it failed, he could always try and make a quick getaway with the man, though that would be exceptionally difficult as he needed his arms for flight, and Kai had none of his own to hold onto him. Thus leaving the hero with very few options to choose from. 

Well, guess he'd gotten the excitement he'd been wishing for, after all... Except it wasn't at all in the way he'd expected.

"Your boyfriend here seems to be in a great deal of distress, Touya. I was just helping him to the nearest hospital. Some of those bruises and scratches look really nasty. He must’ve taken quite a tumble.”

Nevermind that the injuries were too severe, too numerous and too precisely located to have ever resulted from falling. Sonar-Scope grit his teeth.

He could only hope that this ‘Touya’ wasn’t one of the smart and cautious types, and was overconfident enough that his partner would never tell on him to allow the hero to take both of them to the nearest medical institution. Then maybe all of this could work out without unnecessary violence.

Turquoise eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that.” Touya said, his unnerving rasp suddenly as smooth as silk. Oozing danger. “Poor thing doesn’t like hospitals, they scare him after what he's been through. A group of villains attacked our van around five months back, you see. Crashed it. I got away with third degree burns while poor Kai here lost his arms.” A hand thrust out of the darkness, and Sonar-Scope barely kept himself from gagging at the sight of dead tissue spanning the length of the man’s arm, held together with healthy skin only through the use of large, crude staples.

What the hell?!

The hand retracted back into the shadows just as quickly as it had appeared before him, a crooked, amused grin spreading across Touya’s barely visible features at the hero’s obvious disgust.

“Kai hasn’t been the same since. Keeps having these awful flashbacks that send him into a frenzy. He just starts running and doesn't stop no matter what lies in his path, or even whether or not he's wearing any clothes. I've been trying to help him as much as I can, but…" the man's shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug, a fake, sad-sounding sigh leaving his lips. "As you can see I've so far been unsuccessful."

"Sounds like some bad PTSD," Sonar-Scope remarked, brows furrowing as disappointment coiled bitterly within his chest, eyes narrowing.

Damn, he was really out of luck. This guy was obviously sharp and perceptive. More so than most. He wasn't falling for any of the hero's charade, and Sonar was running out of excuses to keep the two from going on their merry way. Meaning that his chances of this being an easy job had just successfully evaporated. Oh, damn it all.

"Have you thought about letting him see a professional? I have a buddy working in psychiatry. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help both of you guys out. Let me make a quick call."

When Touya spoke again however there was a palpable edge to his raspy vocals, turquoise eyes narrowing even more, the man having clearly grown bored of the continued theatrics and quickly becoming impatient. Kai must have sensed this displeasure as well, as he flinched where he stood behind the hero's back, a low sound of fright leaving his throat against his wishes and his golden eyes growing wet with unshed tears of terror. Sonar-Scope couldn't tear his attention away to soothe him.

"I've suggested it, but he refused. See, Kai? Even the hero thinks you need help. You should do what I tell you more often, Princess." 

A sudden movement from the corner of his eyes tore his attention away from the villain before him, the hero watching in astonishment as Kai slowly strode back to stand at his abuser's side, head bowed so the hero couldn't easily see his face.

"Uh… Kai?"

The injured man didn't respond to his weak call, and a pleased grin spread across Touya’s features. With the steadily rising sun flooding the alleyway in rapidly brightening light, Sonar could see both of the mens' faces more clearly, his stomach churning in revulsion at the sight of staples lining the villain's jaw and eyes. To his great surprise, he also noticed that Kai looked strangely familiar to him as if... as if he'd already seen him somewhere. But where?

"Oh, good. Done with your little temper tantrum, Princess?"

Kai's head dipped in a shallow nod, gaze downcast, and it was then that it finally clicked for the Bat hero, his brown eyes going impossibly wide at the sight of the yakuza boss that had been all over the news for weeks on end just five months ago. 

"Wait. Holy shit! That's Chisaki Ka—"

He didn't get to say much else.

A horrid scream echoed down the narrow alleyway as the hero suddenly caught on fire, blue flames engulfing him whole within seconds and concealing him from view.

Kai stumbled away from the sight in horror and fright, back slamming painfully against the wall in his haste, wide, golden eyes watching in terror as the screams finally died away, Sonar-Scope's burning body collapsing to the muddy ground. Lifeless. 

Dabi clicked his tongue behind him, features highlighted eerily in the dancing flames, his turquoise gaze as cold as ice. 

"So close, Princess. And yet so far. What a shame," he said with a tiny shake of his head, a heavy sigh leaving his disfigured lips. "I've told you this before, Kai, yet every time you just don't seem to listen, do you? Every decision you make leads to people dying. You break people everywhere you go. Had you not tried to escape me, this hero wouldn't have had to die, and I wouldn't have had to get my hands dirty cleaning up your mess. Just look at what you made me do, Princess."

Chisaki's shoulders shook with silent sobs as he watched the hero who'd been so close to saving him burn to ashes, the yakuza not even having enough presence of mind to flinch away as a deceptively soft arm wrapped around his waist, gently turning him away from the horrific scene and guiding him back into the shadows of the flickering alleyway; the two men heading back the way they'd come.

"Let's go home, Kai."

A few blocks away from the murder site, Taketa Harumi, affectionately nicknamed 'Maegara', cursed her boyfriend's name as she dealt with piles upon piles of paperwork, swearing that she would throttle him the moment he showed his sorry face.

That very evening, after he'd failed to return to their shared apartment, frantic and weeping she filed a missing persons report.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"I fucking knew it! I knew you were hiding something! You goddamn nerd."

Crimson eyes, manic and bloodthirsty, glared at him from the darkness of Recovery Girl's office, ice flowing through his veins at the horrifying, familiar sight, and Chisaki couldn't stop himself from scrambling away if he tried, his back slamming painfully against the metal headboard and his hands shaking uncontrollably as they wrapped around his trembling knees, chest rising and falling in quick, sharp gasps.

No... Nonono, Shigaraki couldn't be here! He couldn't be here! He couldn't have snuck into UA, could he? H-he wasn't supposed to be here! Chisaki was supposed to be safesafesafe—

"—saki?" A voice called, and the mattress dipped beneath someone else's weight, the yakuza curling even tighter around himself in fright, a strangled sounding whimper leaving his constricting throat, eyes welling with uncontrollable tears.

Deku had promised him that he would be safe… that no one would hurt him anymore… He'd promised!

"Back off you moron, you're crowding him!"

The weight disappeared and Chisaki reluctantly looked up, tearful golden gaze meeting dark red.

Those weren't Shigaraki’s eyes. They were too dark, too brown when compared to the lanky villain's, no longer as manic and crazed as they had been mere seconds ago, borderline kind.

They reminded him of Sonar's eyes… before those had glazed over in death that is.

"Chisaki, right?" The unknown boy asked, voice gruff, but still somehow gentle, features no longer contorted in an insane grin. "Just take deep breaths, ok? No one here's gonna touch you, so stop freaking out." 

Somehow that was hard to believe, but something in the other's voice compelled Kai to trust him against his better judgment, the yakuza's eyes slowly sliding shut as he hyperventilated, struggling to get his breathing under control.

It was as if unseen walls were closing in on him from every angle, suffocating him, blocking off his escape. An unseen weight settled stubbornly in his lungs, making it increasingly hard for him to breathe no matter how much he tried to calm himself, fingers curling around his knees in a white knuckled grip. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, staining the fabric of his hospital gown even as he tried his best to conceal them, humiliation sinking deep into his core. 

Why was it so overwhelmingly difficult for him to control his own emotions? His own fear?

"Chisaki? Could you look at me?" Deku's voice sounded to his right, and the man forced himself to look up, glittering golden meeting glistening emerald. A glass of water was slowly extended in his direction, the boy carefully keeping his distance, gloved fingers flexing in a manner Chisaki already learned to recognize as nervousness and worry. He accepted the glass gratefully, only now noticing how parched he really was, his body unable to stop itself from trembling where it sat curled up against the wall from the recent scare, knees still tucked securely and protectively against his chest. 

A fact that neither of the two heroes seemed to miss.

"Do you need anything else? Are you all right? Is there anything I could do to help?" Deku asked, voice impossibly soft, green gaze full of concern when the yakuza's shaking didn't abate, despite his gradually slowing breaths, brows furrowed.

The blond beside him didn't withhold a scoff. 

"Quit hovering over him like that for a start, you dumb nerd. Just give him some fucking space so that he can breathe already, will ya?"

Chisaki practically saw the boy's jaw clench in anger when he was unable to conceal the flinch that travelled through his hunched form at the sound of those loud, furious vocals, a low whine of fright escaping his throat against his wishes as he curled up even tighter upon the plush surface of the hospital bed, fingers clenching around his legs to the point of pain.

Spinner used to shout at him like this too…

"Excuse us for a moment, Chisaki."

Roughly grabbing Bakugo by the scruff of his shirt and ignoring the boy's offended shouts, he dragged the other out of the hidden ward and into Recover Girl's office, the door gently clicking shut behind them. Releasing his irate classmate with a small shove, Deku leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossing tightly over his chest as he glared at Katsuki, anger swirling within his chest.

Bakugo yelling at him was one thing. He was used to it. Raising his voice near Chisaki though… a man who was already so hurt, so afraid… that was definitely crossing a line. Made something protective well within his heart, the boy matching his former friend's heated stare, teeth gritting in barely held back fury.

"You can't do that, Kacchan!" He snapped, emerald eyes flashing. "You scared him as it is, you can't keep shouting like that! You're just making it worse!"

To his great surprise, the other looked faintly apologetic at those words, red eyes losing some of their furious glare and flickering almost guiltily to the floor between them. It wasn't like Kacchan to be so easily abashed. Izuku wondered if he should be relieved by the sight or not.

"What's he doing here anyway, Deku?" The blond boy finally spat, hands shoving themselves deep into the pockets of his baggy pants, the characteristic scowl returning to his sharp features. "And why are you suddenly fretting over him like he's made of porcelain or is some frightened child in need of protection? Isn't that the same bastard who cut up the horned pipsqueak you and Mirio keep hanging out with? What the hell, Deku?!"

The boy was unable to stop himself from flinching at the harsh accusation, guilt flaring within his chest with renewed force. When he spoke again, however, his voice was firm, quiet, carefully controlled.

"The police requested UA to house Chisaki while they work on tracking down the League of Villains," he said, settling for half-truths that would hopefully satiate Bakugo's curiosity and convince him to keep the knowledge to himself. As well as get him out of here quicker, so he could go back and soothe the distressed yakuza. "They believe he might know something about their whereabouts, so they're keeping him here until he gives something up. Due to our history, I was asked to aid in the investigation as they believed Chisaki was more likely to respond to me than anyone else."

Bakugo's features darkened in a sneer, ruby eyes glaring in the deep evening shadows that had long since fallen upon the school.

"You seriously expect me to fall for that bullshit?! Why the hell would he know anything about handjob and his loony crew?! They broke up his gangster club last I checked. And why would he respond to you? You nearly killed him the last time you two met. You seriously expect him to fall for your pathetic act?!"

Deku grit his teeth, fingers curling into tight fists at his sides.

He was too tired for this. Too tired and too stressed, and he just couldn't deal with this right now.

"It's not an act."

"The hell it isn't! Since when do you care about scum like him?!"

"Since the day the League chose to torture him!" The boy shouted, having finally had enough, surprising even himself as his pent up emotions surged forth as if through a broken dam. "Since the day they took everything away from him! Chose to hurt him! To terrorize him for three years without stop until there was barely anything left of him! A mere shell of a person, drowning in fear and pain! And I let them have him!"

There were tears running down his cheeks now, but he barely noticed them, fingers curling into tight fists at his sides and trembling, his body shaking like a leaf where it stood in Recovery Girl's darkened office.

"They were gonna abandon him, Kacchan." He said more quietly this time, chest heaving with harsh breaths and voice trembling. "Mister Aizawa, All Might - everyone. They were gonna use him for information, until he had nothing left to tell them, and then throw him into Tartarus once they were done. None of them were planning on saving him. None of them were planning on helping him. None of them except me, and I… I just… I couldn't leave him like that. I couldn't abandon him too." 

"He's scared, Kacchan. Scared and in so much pain and in need of someone to help him. No different at all from all the other people we'd saved over the years. Truth is, what he did doesn't change the fact that he needs a hero. And I'm gonna be one for him."

To his surprise, the other boy didn't jeer at him for those words. Didn't make fun of his almost childish sentimentality. When he looked at Katsuki, the look in those red eyes was strangely serious, distant, somber, mouth pressed into a thin line and arms now crossed tightly over his chest almost as if… as if the boy were hugging himself where he stood too. As if for a moment he'd seen himself standing somewhere else.

"It was Dabi, right? It was that flame bastard that did this to him?"

Izuku stared at him, brows creased in surprise and confusion. 

"How did you…?"

A stuttered, shocked breath escaped his lips as Bakugo suddenly yanked the collar of his uniform down with two fingers, baring his throat and the patch of pale, warped, seemingly melted skin there. 

A burn scar… wrapped around his neck like a grotesque choker, clearly visible despite the evening darkness. How had he not seen it before? How had he missed it? Failed to realize that all this time Bakugo was hiding something like this from them, not blinking twice when the blond refused to talk about the two days he'd spent in the League's captivity, chalking it up to his usual proud behavior?

"Bastard got a little too enthusiastic when he was dragging me through that portal," Bakugo supplied, his voice unusually quiet and ruby eyes downcast as he straightened out his uniform, hiding the scar from view. "They didn't touch me other than that on Shigaraki’s orders, but you know as well as I do that you don't need to necessarily beat someone to hurt them."

He did know. And the memories never failed to drive a knife into his heart.

"Just pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life. And take a swan dive off of the roof of the building!"

"Defenseless Izuku!"

"Useless Deku."

"Yeah," Deku muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "That's true."

The quiet acknowledgement of their history hung heavy in the air between them, both boys carefully avoiding each other's gazes. At last Bakugo cleared his throat, his voice slightly rougher as he reluctantly continued, eyes stubbornly trained on the polished floor between them.

"I spent over fifty hours trapped in a room with them. I know perhaps better than anyone what a bunch of psychos they are. At first I thought it was gonna be a piece of cake. I can handle crazy. There was nothing that those assholes could throw at me that would get into my head. Or so I thought… until the flame bastard started talking."

A shudder travelled through the boy's form, barely visible, but undeniably there, and Izuku practically felt his mouth go dry at the revelation, his heart clenching painfully within his chest.

The only other time he'd seen Bakugo express fear or distress like this was during their fight after All Might’s retirement… 

"He knew which buttons to press." Katsuki said, his voice a low growl. "I don't know how, but he did. They'd take shifts, and he'd spend hours running his fucking mouth near me, saying all kindsa shit to screw with my head: that the teachers had given up on me. That the public believed I was a villain. That I would always be under suspicion even if I did find my way back to you guys, and would never be number one because of it. I tried to keep him out. I knew what he was saying was bullshit. But…" Bakugo shook his head, teeth gritting audibly. "Bastard knows how to get under your skin and does it well."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Deku asked, and immediately regretted it as ruby eyes flashed in his direction, glowing with familiar rage.

"Because it wasn't any of your goddamn business, Deku!" The boy spat, voice thick with fury. "I don't fucking need your, or anyone else's pity! I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own, and I did. End of story."

Yeah, except you forgot to mention the time you emotionally broke down and forced me to fight you, Izuku thought to himself, but held his tongue this time around, his green gaze flickering to the silver door behind them.

"Yes, well… Chisaki spent far more time with him than a few days." He said, voice quiet.

For a moment both of them stood in silence, neither saying a word. Then Bakugo was suddenly pushing past him, opening the door with a quiet click before Izuku could reach out to stop him.

"Wait—"

"Chisaki?" 

The yakuza looked up, frightened, glistening golden meeting steady red. Bakugo slowly approached the bed, coming to stand beside it and ignoring the way the villain instantly cringed away from his presence, pressing against the wall behind him, the look on the boy's face one of fierce determination.

"I know what they did to you," he said, his voice even and steady, the most mature Deku had ever heard it. "I know... what he did to you."

Chisaki looked away from him in shame, golden eyes dropping to his covered lap and fingers digging into his wrist, raking against it in a nervous tic Deku hadn't yet been able to rid him of. Nevertheless, the boy continued, as if he hadn't even noticed, his gaze never leaving the villain's hunched form. "I know because I was held by them once too. I was the kid they kidnapped from that quirk training camp, before the incident in Kamino."

At that Chisaki sharply looked up, his surprised, golden eyes meeting dark ruby ones.

A humorless, bitter smile danced at the corners of Bakugo's lips.

"I know better than anyone what they're like. How depraved those crazy fucks really are. I know how they twist your own words and use them against you. How they use your unflattering past to get under your skin. How they take events you had absolutely no control over, and blame you for them. I know, because I experienced it all too." 

Unusually gentle fingers reached out, wrapping around Chisaki's wrist and stopping its frantic movements, narrowed, red eyes flickering to the fresh scratches the yakuza had carved into his skin, before meeting that golden gaze once more. 

"Don't let them destroy you, Chisaki." Bakugo said, voice gruff and low, but firm. "Don't let someone like Dabi break you. That's what the bastard wants you to do. Instead rub it in his face by pulling yourself together. Surviving. Living. And then come back and make him fucking wish he'd killed you when he had the chance. That he'd never heard your name. And I'll help you until his blood soaks both of our hands, because I want to get back at that bastard too, and together we can do it. Now, what do you say, yakuza? Think we got a deal?"

Pale fingers slowly reached out, hesitantly brushing against Bakugo's before firmly clasping around them. Golden eyes met ruby ones without fright for the first time in the duration of the entire evening, something new appearing within them, some fierce determination that had not been there previously, replacing the hollowness that had existed within them before. It took Deku some time to place it, but when he finally did it took his breath away, a small smile spreading across his face, beyond his control.

For the first time in the months he had spent here, Chisaki wanted to live.

"Deal."

Chapter Text

The next few weeks flew by in relative peace.

When she first learned of Bakugo's new involvement, Recovery Girl was, understandably, far from happy about the development. To the point of summoning the two boys to her office, the old woman glaring at each in turn, as if wondering whom she should blame for this unpleasantness. Somehow this cold, furious silence had proven to be worse than any scolding she could have given them, and Deku had soon found himself staring guiltily at the floor, while Bakugo glowered back right at the school nurse, as if daring her to say a word against his decision; the explosive hero adamantly demonstrating that he had nothing to apologize for. 

After a few minutes of this silent stand-off, the woman seemed to decide that making sure her patient was alive and well was her first priority, and so temporarily left them in favor of checking on the injured yakuza, clearly expecting the worst. However, the moment she opened the door she seemed to freeze where she stood, temporarily rendered speechless by the sight before her.

"He's eating..." She'd whispered, her voice barely audible and yet carrying easily across the room, and Deku immediately rushed to her side, wide, emerald eyes peering through the small crack in the door. And sure enough, for the first time in months Chisaki wasn't ignoring his tray like he usually did, golden eyes distant as they stared out of the nearby window. No. He was actually eating, determinedly if somewhat reluctantly swallowing down small mouthfuls of rice. It didn't last long, and soon the food bowl was set back on its tray (half-full, probably on account of the yakuza's diminished appetite brought on by years of starvation), but the sheer fact that he had eaten himself, without gentle coaxing or even hand-feeding, was nothing short of remarkable. Caused something powerful to well within the boy's chest, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes at the sight.

Chisaki was eating. He was actually showing a desire to live.

And judging by the smug look on Kacchan's face - the explosive teen knew exactly whom they should thank for that.

The changes to their routine began almost immediately after that. Now there were very few instances during which Deku was the sole visitor of the hidden ward. Oftentimes Bakugo would end up tagging along with him, the boy striding confidently into the small room as if he owned it and throwing himself into the nearest chair, carelessly propping his legs up on the nearest table surface and adamantly ignoring Deku's feeble protests.

But despite Katsuki's usual, brash and obnoxious behavior, Izuku could tell that his classmate was… different… when he was around Chisaki. Somehow gentler, certainly a fraction less loud and violent. For one, he no longer shouted when he was in the confines of the small ward, even when speaking to Deku. Didn't make any unnecessarily sharp or sudden movements. And, though it took a while for Izuku to notice this, he didn't seem to cover his neck as much when he was near Kai either. In fact, he seemed to deliberately expose it, allowing the injured yakuza a clear view of the scar Dabi had left him with. As if it were a silent statement of comradeship between him and Chisaki, a quiet reassurance that he, too, had suffered at the villain's hands, and knew the pain the man was going through all too well.

And as his visits became more frequent, it wasn't long before he started to bring schoolwork with him as well, spreading the textbooks over every available surface, ruby eyes focused and thoughtful as he perused through his notes; his mere presence a silent comfort to the injured yakuza.

Despite himself, Deku had soon found himself following this example and using this time to study as well where previously he had spent these hours trying to talk to Chisaki, having realized that simply being there with the man was more than enough. That simply spending time with him, being present was a reassurance to Kai in and of itself. Was enough to make sure Chisaki knew he wasn't alone. Not anymore. That they were there for him.

When they caught the man subtly eyeing their homework, Deku was taken aback by Bakugo's sudden lack of aggression. Instead of getting offended, or territorial over his notes as he usually did when he caught sight of someone trying to sneak a peek at his work, the boy had instead pushed the papers in Chisaki's direction, allowing the yakuza to slowly reach out and accept the silent offering, golden eyes raking over the blond's slanted writing. And when the man had hesitantly asked for paper and a pen, Deku had handed him both without a word, watching in bemusement as Chisaki braced the pages against his folded knees with a subtle wince of discomfort from his still aching body, and began to write, his hand quite shaky and unstable at first, but quickly becoming more steady as muscle memory took over.

"You haven't been giving him anything to do, Deku." Bakugo had later explained as they were walking back to the dorms for the night, Chisaki's corrections, notes and remarks carefully folded and tucked away into their school bags. "He's probably bored out of his goddamn mind. Even something as tedious as schoolwork is likely the most entertainment he's gotten these past few months. Not to mention you've been letting him spend too much time in his own head with nothing but bad memories to keep him company. No wonder he was so fucking depressed when I got here. You idiot."

Deku took this to heart and the next time he visited the small ward, his arms were laden with books, all varying from textbooks to the few novels he had managed to find from the pre-Quirk era, having remembered Chisaki's intense dislike towards anything related to quirks. He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't warm at the way golden eyes visibly brightened at the sight, the man almost eagerly reaching out and sifting through the offered tomes with all the excitement of a young child, fingers gliding all but reverently over smooth covers. 

How long has it been since Chisaki had last held a book in his hands? How long has it been since he'd last gotten to read something and enjoy himself?

It came as no surprise to Deku when the man seemed to naturally gravitate towards biology and chemistry textbooks. In fact, he'd expected as much, given the yakuza's background, which is why he'd brought so many with him in the first place. It did surprise him, however, when Chisaki didn't even blink at the old Lord of the Rings novel he'd brought along with the other books, merely shooting the boy a long look upon seeing it, a single elegant eyebrow raised in a deadpan (but dare he also say amused?) expression. 

"A children's novel?"

The 'Really?' was left unsaid yet heard by them both.

"I-It was the only one I could find from the pre-Quirk era in our library," Izuku defended weakly, his face flushing with color. "I-I know that you dislike quirks, a-and that maybe you'll eventually grow bored of reading textbooks all the time, so I tried to get you some fiction from the past centuries. Besides, even adults read that one. My mom did." Embarrassment coursed through him, and the boy seriously debated leaving the ward right then and there to salvage what little dignity he had left, feeling uncomfortably hot beneath the collar as Chisaki merely looked at him, golden eyes twinkling in the sunlight filtering through the ward window. 

"... I'll try and find you some classical literature next time," he promised quietly after a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, his emerald gaze dropping to the floor.

With a look of amusement that was definitely far more pronounced this time around, Chisaki merely turned away and dropped the tattered novel onto the pile of the ones he was keeping, his hand reaching out to pick up the next tome.

It soon became a common occurrence to find the yakuza buried in one book, or other from then on out. And as the days slowly trickled by, Deku couldn't help but notice the changes that were happening in the other man, his spirits lifting dramatically at the sight. 

Now that he was starting to eat on his own, Chisaki was beginning to look stronger and healthier than he had in a long time, his body still abnormally thin as it would take a while for him to regain his normal weight, but certainly not as malnourished as it had been a mere few weeks ago. With the new access to books and the boys' schoolwork to provide him distraction, he seemed much happier as well, far more rested, the dark circles beneath his eyes still largely prevalent, but his skin no longer seeming so sickly and sallow, taking on the healthy beige Deku remembered from three years ago. And according to Recovery Girl, with most of Chisaki's bandages now removed and him regaining his strength, it would only be a matter of time before they were ready to start physical therapy, and finally put the yakuza back on his feet again.

Things were looking up, but that didn't mean that Chisaki still didn't have his bad days, of course. It didn't mean that sometimes he wasn't anxious and on edge for no apparent reason, Dabi's ghost hovering over him like a storm cloud, draining him of what little happiness he had. It didn't mean that he still didn't suffer from nightmares. Didn’t mean that he didn't curl into a tight ball whenever he was in distress and weakly cry out for his father, barely responding to either Izuku or Katsuki's calls. But it did give Deku hope. Hope that Chisaki was going to be okay. That after so many months, they were finally on the right track.

He should've known it wouldn't last.

They were sitting in All Might’s office, just him and Bakugo. Neither of them knew why they had been summoned here. One moment they were heading towards Chisaki's ward after class, and the next they were being faced with the former number one himself, the man's face oddly grim as he asked them to stop by his office for a cup of tea. Though Deku was willing to guess it was more than that. That it was something far more serious. Something that couldn't be disclosed in a crowded hallway packed with excited students.

Perhaps it was something concerning Chisaki or the League? That was by far the only explanation his mind could come up with. 

And, almost as if he'd read the other boy's mind, Bakugo broke the silence between them first, ruby gaze stubbornly trained straight ahead, glaring at nothing.

"So you're meeting with the girl and intangible bastard today, huh?"

"Yeah," Deku said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he glanced at his classmate from the corner of his eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. "Mirio was going to come by here after his shift to meet up with me before heading to Aizawa's. Why?" Since when did Kacchan show an interest in his activities?

Bakugo shrugged, fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest of the sofa.

"They're gonna find out about his survival eventually, Deku." he said, voice dark. "You couldn't keep his existence hidden from me, how do you expect to hide it from them? Especially when we finally catch the bastards that did this to him?"

Deku looked away, his eyes downcast. 

"It's true," he admitted quietly after a pregant pause, hands clasping tightly in front of him. "Mirio will find out eventually. There's no way he won't. But… Eri doesn't have to. Not for a long time anyway. Not until she's ready and old enough to hear it." And even then I think Aizawa would keep him away from her. For both of their sakes, he added silently to himself.

Eri was only just starting to recover from what had happened to her. There was no doubt in any of their minds that she would never truly be free of the trauma Chisaki had dealt her. Being abandoned by your mother, experimented on, emotionally and psychologically abused by being repeatedly blamed for killing your own father and being born with an 'evil' quirk wasn't something you ever got over, after all. Seeing Chisaki again, even if the man sincerely wished to apologize, wouldn't help her. Deku was sure of it.

And that was without considering the trauma Chisaki himself had been dealt during his time with the League. Being forced to face the girl again, being reminded of his past in such a way, of all the mistakes he'd made that probably led to him ending up in Dabi's hands in the first place - it would simply undo all of the progress he and Kacchan had made over the past few weeks. Maybe even finally send the yakuza over the edge. 

Truth be told, it was the exact same reason why Deku didn't want him to see his 'father' again either, if the man was still on life support and they somehow managed to locate him that is. Even if Chisaki found a way to regain control of his quirk and bring him back, Izuku didn't believe the Shie Hassaikai boss would ever forgive him. If he knew anything of the yakuza code of ethics - any indecent act against the members of the 'family' was an instant death sentence. Chisaki had attacked his father, made him lose almost five years of his life by putting him in a coma, experimented on the man's granddaughter and destroyed the organization his boss had worked so hard to preserve. There was simply no way Chisaki would be taken back after that.

'A life for a life'. That was the rule. Even if the boss chose not to kill him as recompense for 'stealing' a part of his life and the life of his granddaughter - Chisaki would be cast out. Ostracized. Abandoned by the only parental figure he'd ever had. And he didn't need that. Didn't deserve that. Dabi had already taken everything he possibly could away from him. Chisaki didn't deserve the trauma of losing his father too.

Even if it was due to his own actions.

No, keeping them separate was the best course of action. Deku was sure of it.

"Yeah, well," Bakugo grunted as he turned to stare out of the open window, his ruby eyes narrowed in a glower. "You best be ready when he does."

The soft creak of an opening door broke them out of their increasingly darkening thoughts, and the two boys looked up, watching as All Might slowly edged into the room, a small tray with a teapot and three cups clasped tightly within his hands.

"Thank you for joining me here today," the hero said, lowering himself heavily into the opposite chair, the metal tray making a small clunking noise as it was set on the small coffee table between them. "I know you had plans. I appreciate that you took the time to meet me."

"We were planning on visiting the yakuza bitch, after class." Bakugo growled, and Deku winced internally at the cruel nickname, even if he knew the other didn't really mean it. That it was all for show, Kacchan still unwilling to let others know that he actually cared even by simply using people's real names. 

If he didn't, he would call Chisaki that to his face, or even in his conversations with Deku. But he never did. 

"So I suggest you make it fucking quick and don't waste our time with damn pleasantries."

"There is no need for such language…" All Might gently admonished with a grimace, unable to suppress a cringe at the excessive profanity even though all of them were long since used to it, reaching out and pouring the three of them a cup of steaming tea. By the faint aroma gently wafting from the porcelain cups, Deku could tell that it was mint and dandelion - one of the hero's favorites. "And Chisaki is not available for visitors right now anyway. He is currently being questioned by detective Tsukauchi and the Wing hero Hawks."

"The current number two is here?" Izuku asked before he could stop himself, confusion and amazement creeping into his voice. He'd heard a lot about the winged hero, and had even had the chance to meet him once during his internship at the Endeavor Agency. To say he wasn't a fan of the young pro would be a lie. 

Bakugo, on the other hand, seemed less than excited by the news. 

"Why is one of the top heroes questioning him?" He asked, ruby eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Since when is it his job to interrogate criminals? Isn't that the responsibility of the police?"

If Deku didn't know better he'd almost say that his companion sounded… genuinely angry. Protective. As if the mere thought of a stranger getting near Chisaki, possibly upsetting him, enraged Katsuki. 

A tiny smile danced at the corners of his lips.

"The League of Villains is a big case, young Bakugo." All Might explained patiently, blue eyes trained on one of his most promising students. "They're the first major threat Japan has faced in a long time and they have been successfully evading capture for around three years now. We have no idea what they might be planning, nor what kind of support they may have acquired over that time. The Commission is understandably concerned about public safety. It would be highly odd for them not to get involved. And since we have more chances of catching the villains in time by working together, they have agreed to send one of the top heroes to aid us in this investigation."

Deku swallowed.

"And… when you catch them… what's going to happen to Chisaki?" 

It was a question that had been bothering him for quite a while now. There was no doubt in Izuku's mind that Chisaki had been a monster before his abduction. A mafia boss. A child abuser. A cold-blooded murderer. But though he had unquestionably deserved to be sent to Tartarus then, did he really deserve such a fate now? On top of everything else he had already suffered? Surely that couldn't be considered justice. It sounded cruel - the decision to punish a person who'd already paid so much for his crimes and mistakes. They couldn't imprison Chisaki for life now. Surely they couldn't!

And judging by the way Bakugo tensed where he sat beside him, Izuku could tell that the other shared this sentiment.

However, All Might didn’t answer him for a long time. And when he finally did, his voice was quiet, gentle, the former number one clearly weighing each word, struggling to find a way to explain the yakuza's situation without causing upset.

"It's... still uncertain," he said at last, looking down at the cup clenched tightly within his long fingers, a glimmer of sadness pervading his icy blue eyes despite his best efforts to conceal it. "Of course, now that we know what we do none of us truly wish to imprison Kai Chisaki and cause him more pain than he's already experienced. However, that doesn't change the fact that from a legal standpoint he's still considered an escaped and highly dangerous criminal—"

"—'Escaped'?!" Bakugo snapped, eyes blazing and small explosions leaving scorch marks on All Might’s pristine sofa. "The hell're you talking about?! He was fucking abducted!"

"—Be that as it may," the man continued, as if Bakugo had not interrupted him at all. "The charges against him still stand. However, Tsukauchi has agreed to try and push forward a deal: if Kai Chisaki were to fully cooperate with this investigation, tell us everything he knows about the League and their operations and then agree to testify in court - then perhaps his sentence can, at the very least, be shortened. If he's very lucky, and his contributions play a pivotal role in taking down the League of Villains - he might even have a shot at getting away with parole."

However, there wasn't even a shadow of any relief in the hero's face as he said this. No hint of satisfaction from the prospect of sparing the former yakuza even more suffering. As if… as if this wasn't a more pleasing option at all.

"But… But that's better than him just being thrown into Tartarus, right?" Deku asked carefully, his emerald eyes never leaving All Might’s face. "He won't be imprisoned, he'll be free. He could even come to serve his parole here, with us and Recovery Girl. His quirk is definitely suited for that, once he regains control of it, and he'll be safe here. Couldn't he?"

"It's… I'm afraid it's not that simple, young Midoriya." The hero seemed to hesitate then, dragging a heavy hand down his face, his blue eyes flickering from one boy to the other, the man obviously struggling for words. "In fact, Chisaki might even prefer to go to Tartarus… rather than testify."

The two students shared a long look, palpable confusion bleeding into their features. Even Bakugo seemed at a loss for words, seemingly unable to grasp the thought of anyone preferring to be imprisoned rather than help put the men who hurt them behind bars.

"Why?"

"As I've mentioned before - it's a big case. It is quite likely that the whole country will be watching this trial. And… there are some things that would be... difficult for him to confess while having so many eyes on him. To say the least."

"Chisaki's not the timid sort. He's not afraid to speak in front of a crowd." Deku contradicted him quietly. "Sure, he's hurt and scared now, but I'm certain that with some help he'll start acting like his old self again. He had no trouble running an entire organization, and facing multiple pro heroes at once during the raid three years back. It's possible that with some time he'll be able to regain some of that confidence. Enough to not be intimidated to speak in front of so many people."

"He's a fighter." Bakugo growled in agreement beside him, ruby eyes narrowed as if in personal offense. "He'll come back a meaner bitch and kick their asses yet, just you wait."

However, All Might only shook his head in disagreement, blue eyes downcast.

"It's not about being able to speak in front of a crowd," he said, voice quiet. "That is not what I meant. The point is, no matter how brave a man may be there are just some things, some memories that are too painful to be revisited at will. Especially in front of an audience. Truth is, I wasn't completely honest with you when I told you about Chisaki's abduction. And it is time that you knew the whole truth."

A familiar file was suddenly dropped in front of them on the smooth surface of the coffee table, the two boys involuntarily shrinking back before leaning forward, trying to get a better look.

Deku barely gulped down the bile that immediately rose in his throat at the sight of the gruesome pictures he had not seen before displayed there, hands clenching into tight fists. Beside him, Kacchan grit his teeth, eyes blazing with hot yet silent fury.

"As the two of you already know, Kai Chisaki sustained many injuries during his imprisonment, most likely through torture. Broken bones. Fractured ribs. Sprained wrists. Deep lacerations and even stab wounds, most of which have left permanent scars upon his body. Burns and bruises. A concussion… It is a long, and terrible list of brutality I'd hoped neither of you would have to be faced with for a long time yet. However, that is only the tip of the iceberg, as people say. And now I'd like to get to the matter of his quirk."

"Tell me, what do the two of you know of the quirk-suppression syndrome and its fast spread when quirks were first popping up within the populace?"

Surprisingly, it was Bakugo who answered first, beating Deku to the punch. 

"People were freaked out when they realized they or their kids had superpowers." The blond boy said, his voice a low growl. "Some thought they were going to be abducted and experimented on in government labs. Those who followed a religion believed they were reincarnations of devils, evil beings, and so on. Others were just afraid of being declared freaks and subsequently ostracized from the community. This mentality spread quickly and people began to suppress their own quirks, keeping them under control and never using them even in cases where it would save their lives."

"And do you know how they did that?" 

"Fear." Deku said, his voice quiet, barely more than a whisper. "They feared their abilities."

All Might nodded.

"Fear is a powerful thing." He confirmed softly, almost sadly. "For some, like in Eri's case, it makes them lose control of their quirks, resulting in unpredictable explosions of power. For others, however, it acts as a mental barrier, preventing them from making use of the very powers they were born with. Even in the most desperate situations."

Izuku's throat flexed in a heavy swallow. 

"You mean to say… Chisaki can't use his own quirk… because he's afraid of it?"

Bakugo sharply looked up at those words, his ruby gaze flicking from one man to the other. Deku couldn't blame him.

It didn't make sense. The yakuza had never shown any kind of fear or insecurity when it came to his abilities. In fact, he'd been the exact opposite, using it in a highly proficient way both to conceal his crimes from the police and to fight the heroes off during the raid. Hell, he'd even used his quirk to create those quirk erasing bullets, and had used its name as his villain moniker. None of those actions hinted at him being afraid of his powers. So how could he be…

"You don't know the full extent of the abuse Chisaki had had to face during his imprisonment by the League of Villains." All Might said softly, almost as if the man had read Deku's mind. "It's possible that they could've convinced him that his quirk was to blame for what they were doing to him. That it was somehow responsible for landing him in that sort of situation in the first place. He most likely killed Kenji Hikiishi with his quirk, thus incurring their wrath. Used it to put his father into a coma, essentially leaving himself parentless. It was his quirk that made Nighteye suspicious of his activities in the first place. It isn't difficult to imagine that after being repeatedly told it was his power that hurt him, Chisaki began to fear his own abilities and what they could do to him if he were to ever use them again. Thus unknowingly playing right into the League's hands as they undoubtedly used this to have an easier time of controlling him, keeping him in check."

A loud explosion sounded to his left and Deku jumped, wide, emerald eyes flickering to the boy beside him.

"Bastards." Bakugo snarled, sparks dancing across his upturned palms, ruby eyes turning white with terrifying fury. "I'll fucking kill them! I'll kill them!"

"Is there any way for him to regain it?" Izuku asked, turning his attention away from the fuming teen and back to his mentor, voice quiet. "Surely there's a way to show him that his quirk won't hurt him, that it's safe for him to use. It's his power. It can't hurt him. Everything that happened to him was due to his actions and the League's sadism, not his quirk."

But All Might only shook his head, another heavy sigh leaving the man's lips.

"You can try, young Midoriya." He said, "but you have to understand - fear is as irrational as it is powerful. It doesn't always adhere to logic. And one as strong as the one blocking Chisaki's use of his quirk won't be easy to get rid of. Severe trauma doesn't go away just because you will it too. Most affected with quirk-suppression syndrome were unable to regain use of their abilities after losing them. I think… I think it would be best for you not to get your hopes up. Yours, or Chisaki's."

"But he can't remain quirkless," Bakugo said, and Deku swore he could almost hear the quiet horror in the other boy's voice, wide, ruby eyes never leaving All Might’s. "He has to regain his quirk. How else is he supposed to kick the asses of the bastards that did this to him?!"

The hero looked away.

"And that brings us to the next aspect of his trauma. One that I did not tell you about initially and, frankly, had hoped you would never have to learn about. Not until you were much, much older."

All Might breathed a deep sigh, dragging a heavy hand down his face, the man suddenly seeming so sad, so exhausted, that Deku could feel his heart involuntarily clench within his chest in sympathy, trepidation making his throat thicken. "Truth be told, the psychological torture and loss of his quirk aren't the only things that Chisaki might find... hard to confess in court."

The number one hero shook his head, fingers carding tensely through his hair in a nervous gesture as he visibly fumbled for words. Deku had to wonder what could be so terrible to make All Might struggle like this, the boy feeling his heart sink. 

What exactly did the League do to Chisaki?

"Upon admission to the Musutafu Villain hospital Kai Chisaki was, naturally, subjected to several examinations to ascertain the full extent of his injuries before receiving treatment. However, during this process the doctors found… well, they discovered... these kinds of things aren't, unfortunately, very unusual amongst criminals you must understand—"

"Spit it out already!" Bakugo snapped, features darkened in an impatient scowl. "What the hell did they find?!"

"Blood." All Might cleared his throat. "They found blood, as well as... as tearing and lacerations. Signs of penetration… even traces of semen."

The hero looked up. 

"I'm sure the two of you can piece together what that means."

For a moment the three of them sat in stunned silence. And the next Bakugo was sharply rising from his seat and striding across the room with quick, violent movements, and Deku was doubled over on the couch, hands pressing tightly over his mouth, as if he were about to puke. Denial made Izuku's mind go blank, horror, revulsion and intense, heart-rending sorrow swirling in a muddled, confused mess within his heart, stomach churning with bile.

No… the League wouldn't have crossed this kind of line, would it? Deku had never believed they could. Despite all the crimes they had already committed, somehow he'd never thought that this was one they were actually capable of. This had to be some kind of mistake. All Might had to be wrong. Chisaki couldn't've been—

An ear-splitting crash snapped him from his increasingly frantic thoughts, the two heroes looking up as a vase was sent flying across the room, shattering against the opposite wall and sending glass shards and water spraying everywhere, marring the previously pristine floor.

Bakugo stood with his back turned to them, palms still giving off smoke. At last he seemed to gather himself enough to face them, ruby eyes glaring over one shoulder, their sudden, smoldering heat and intensity almost impossible for the two of them to bear.

"Who did it?" He asked, his voice frighteningly calm and low, barely audible yet easily carrying across the room. Despite it, Deku could practically feel the murderous rage radiating from the other boy in waves, a shiver running down his spine at the chilling sound. "Tell me who fucking laid their hands on him before I rip the answer out of you."

"We don't know." All Might said quickly, the man doing his best to sound calm, soothing, hands rising in front of him in a placating gesture. "The hospital carried out a thorough rape kit exam, but despite the plentiful evidence, including the three separate DNA strands that were found on Chisaki, they discovered no matches in the criminal database. Which, while discouraging, isn't all that surprising as we've yet to collect any DNA evidence from anyone in the League."

Izuku's throat flexed in a heavy swallow, the boy's face taking on an even more nauseated, greenish hue.

"You mean— You mean there were three people that… that did this to him?" His voice trembled as he uttered those words, eyes burning with a familiar sting as wetness gathered in their corners, threatening to spill down his cheeks, fingers digging almost ruthlessly into the folds of his uniform slacks. 

A look of sadness flashed across All Might’s face, the hero's heart clenching within his chest at the visible distress gripping both of his students, every instinct within him screaming to hug them close and comfort them. He resisted this urge however. They had to know. Even if it killed him to tell them.

"We can't rule out that there could be more perpetrators… a lot happened in those three years that we simply don't know about."

The door opened with a loud slam, and the two looked up, watching in bemusement and increasing concern as Bakugo moved to stride through the now open doorway, fingers clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"Where are you going, young Bakugo?" 

"I gotta see him." The boy snarled, hands gripping onto the door frame with enough force to make it crack. "No fucking way in hell I'm leaving him with strangers now. I don't give a shit if it's the number two, or the police, I'm not letting them talk to him alone!"

All Might breathed a heavy, exhausted sigh.

"Come back, young Bakugo." He called, voice quiet and gentle. "You won't be permitted into the ward anyway, and I assure you, Chisaki is safe. Miss Shuzenji is there with him. The moment she senses he is becoming distressed by the line of questioning - she will put an end to the interrogation immediately. You will be able to see him this evening after the interview if you so wish, but for now you must remain here."

The boy glared at him for a few tense moments, but in the end reluctantly conceded, slamming the door shut and stalking back to the sofa, plopping down on it with enough force to make it bounce on impact.

All Might silently watched him for a few minutes before finally turning away, reaching out and flipping the file shut, but not retrieving it, leaving it like a silent offering on the coffee table between them.

"You can keep this," he said quietly, a note of reluctance pervading his voice. "If you truly wish to help him - you'll need all the information you can get from this… But now, knowing what you do, I'm sure you can understand why Chisaki Kai might not wish to testify. Being subjected to rape was painful and humiliating on its own. To be forced to talk about it in front of millions upon millions of people, however… to feel so many eyes on him while he confesses one of the darkest, most devastating and traumatizing moments in his life… It might prove to be too much for him. And when you consider his past… few might find it within themselves to actually express compassion. To feel bad for a man like him. In fact, it is guaranteed that there will be people among the jury and audience who will think he deserved it. Who will remember that he once tortured a little girl and killed a well-known Pro Hero. That he left a noble teenager quirkless. And will subsequently say that he got what was coming to him. Perhaps even call for the dismissal of his testimony. And, being the smart man that he is, Chisaki understands that all too well."

The hero looked up, meeting their distressed gazes.

"Truth is, being imprisoned and put into solitary confinement in Tartarus might be the only way he sees to spare himself even more suffering, and humiliation. And, given what happened, I'm not sure any of us can truly blame him for that."

When the two heroes exited the small office half an hour later, they did so in silence.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The hallways were silent and empty as they quietly strode down the school corridors, their footsteps echoing eerily around them yet both failing to notice it, to take note of the lack of any outside noise or crowds, the two lost in their own thoughts. 

When Bakugo turned in the direction of Recovery Girl's office, Deku followed him without thinking, silently adjusting the backpack thrown over his shoulders and trying his best not to think of the file stashed within it.

He wondered how long it would be before he gathered enough courage to open it.

Noticing this, Bakugo shot him a long look over one shoulder, ruby eyes narrowed in annoyed confusion and… something else. Some new, bizarre emotion that Izuku had never seen before, and so couldn't read. 

"What are you doing, Deku?" He asked, though his voice was no longer combative, or aggressive. Instead, he sounded overwhelmingly exhausted, resigned, as if he no longer had any energy within him to fight him at all. Had this happened before their conversation with All Might, Izuku would've found this alarming. Would've been worried about Kacchan's well-being. Would've been disturbed by the sudden lack of aggression. But now, considering the fact that he himself felt emotionally drained after the recent revelation and completely numb, he couldn't quite blame Katsuki for his sudden deviation from the norm. "Don't you have a meeting with Mirio to attend to?"

It was the first time the boy had called Toogata by his real name…

Izuku didn't answer him immediately, his gaze dropping to the polished floor beneath them.

"I need to see him before I go." He confessed quietly at last, hands clenching tighter around the straps of his school bag. "I just… I need to see him." He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so frantic, so desperate to see Chisaki before he left. Wasn't sure what he'd even say when he got there. All he knew was that he needed to see the yakuza again. Simply needed to be near him. To comfort him. To... to tell him... that it wasn't his fault.

And judging by Bakugo's lack of biting response - the boy understood his desperation all too well.

The nurse's office was dark and empty when they finally entered it, void of any signs of life.

Detective Tsukauchi, and Hawks must’ve left a while ago, probably to speak to Nezu after concluding their meeting with Chisaki. Recovery Girl must’ve left along with them after making sure that her patient was stable and comfortable with being left alone for a few hours, since her presence must’ve been required in the Principal's office to discuss their next moves as well. But instead of being comforting, the silence and emptiness of the small room suddenly felt… foreboding, alarming, an awful, sinking feeling blooming in the boy's stomach, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow.

His instincts had never betrayed him before… something wasn't right here.

As if oblivious to the red flags surrounding them, Katsuki gently knocked on the silver door in a pattern he knew Chisaki would recognize, and opened the door, the two of them almost instantly freezing at the sight before them.

It took Deku a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. A few, crucial seconds that, had he been alone, would've decided the yakuza's fate.

Chisaki was sitting up in bed, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stared down at his own wrist. Something glinted in his fist as he carefully positioned it over pale skin and it took Deku a moment to realize what it was, his mouth going dry at the sight.

A shard of metal. Chisaki was holding a sharp shard of metal.

Startled, golden eyes snapped towards them at their entry and suddenly Bakugo was moving from his spot beside him, launching himself across the room and roughly grabbing the yakuza's arms, the shard clattering noisily to the floor, the sound overwhelmingly deafening to Deku's ears.

For a moment Izuku thought the other boy had made it in time… and then he saw that Kacchan's fingers were smeared in crimson.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU STANDING AROUND THERE FOR?!" Bakugo shouted like he'd never shouted before as he struggled to pin down the thrashing form beneath him, the look in his eyes wild as he turned to face his childhood friend, alight with fear. 

"GET HELP!"

Chapter Text

Toga liked knives. That he learned rather quickly. And she especially loved to use them, to sink them into soft flesh and brittle bone and watch the silver metal color itself in blood, gleam crimson in the low light of the League basement. However, that did not mean that she didn't resort to other tools from time to time either. No, far from it. Over the last several months that Chisaki had been forced to spend in her 'care', the man had had more than enough time to get acquainted with all the twisted depravity her sadistic little mind could come up with. Had long since had to resign himself to the steady chipping away of his soul. Whatever was left of it that is.

Ever since his failed escape the League had been moving from place to place, switching from hideout to hideout, acting as if the police were hot on their trail when that wasn't the case at all. While the disappearance of Pro Hero Sonar-Scope did not create a huge uproar and was barely even a footnote in the local news due to his small agency and lack of remarkable career, Shigaraki certainly did not seem keen on risking being discovered again so early. As he had abundantly made clear when he grabbed the meal Kurogiri had been working on and spilt scalding water all over Chisaki's side before beating him within an inch of his life for his insolence. Publicly. Before the League.

Had it not been for Dabi's interference, Kai wasn't sure whether he would've survived that last beating. In fact, it seemed very likely that he wouldn't have. Judging by the sheer manner in which Shigaraki had beaten him, how viciously he had rounded on his second upon being interrupted - the League Boss had appeared entirely determined on ending Chisaki's life right then and there for almost escaping. For almost putting them all at risk of early discovery. However, despite the fury being directed at him, Dabi had resolutely stood his ground, shielding the bloodied, coughing yakuza with his own body until the other man had finally backed off, chapped lips curled in a snarl of anger.

What followed next was a blur, Chisaki drifting in and out of consciousness as hot trickles of blood dripped down his temple and from the corner of his mouth, his usually bright golden eyes becoming dull and unfocused. One of Shigaraki’s kicks must’ve resulted in a mild concussion. That was by far the only explanation he could later come up with.

Chisaki remembered Dabi kneeling down and scooping him into his arms, gently shushing him as he whined and sobbed in agony. Remembered being carried down a dark hallway, the corridor ceiling melding with the walls in a nauseating mass of colors and blurry shapes around him. Remembered the bizarre warmth and comfort of Dabi's embrace, the man unable to stop himself from leaning into the soothing touch even as hives bloomed across every inch of his bruised and bloodied skin, Kai already missing the sense of security and safety Sonar-Scope's coat had brought him..

Sonar-Scope...

The mere thought of the hero he'd watched die just a few hours prior was enough to reduce him to pathetic quivering within Dabi's arms, the yakuza weakly struggling to escape the murderer's grasp, low, pitiful whimpers of fright leaving his bloodied lips. 

Dabi had burned him. Dabi had killed him. Dabi had—

"Shhh... it's okay, Princess..."

The world around him spun as the villain suddenly bent forward, and Chisaki was unable to stop the panicked sound that wrung itself from the depths of his throat at the sudden change in gravity, a soft croon reverberating through Dabi's scarred chest as he gently set him down.

It was... soft. Had Chisaki not been so out of it, he would've been embarrassed by how long it took him to realize what he was lying down on now. A bed. He was lying sprawled on a real, tangible bed. Soft mattress beneath him. Sheets quietly rustling and brushing against his skin. A pillow gently fluffed and placed beneath his head, its fabric far from clean and reeking of Dabi, but so impossibly warm and comfortable that Chisaki couldn't bring himself to care. 

When was the last time he got to lie in a bed like this? He couldn't remember. The League hadn't bothered to provide him with any comforts when they threw him into that basement, even the most basic ones. Kai had long since forgotten what it felt like - to sleep on a mattress, surrounded by warmth and softness instead of waking up every few minutes on a cold, dusty stone floor, unable to get comfortable, forced to deal with every inch of his body aching with soreness. What even was softness? What did it really mean to feel comfortable? Had he not experienced it again just now, Chisaki was sure he would've eventually forgotten the definitions of those things entirely. 

And as if that thought was all it took to open the floodgates - suddenly he was sobbing, salty tears streaming down his face and mixing with blood as his eyes clenched tightly shut, unwilling to face the cruel reality surrounding him, his chest heaving with the force of the weak, pitiful hiccups escaping his tightening throat.

He didn't want to be here, this wasn't his room. He wanted to go home. He wanted his own bed. He wanted Chrono—

A soft sigh sounded somewhere above him and gentle fingers carded through his bloody, matted hair, a calloused thumb gently brushing against his cheekbones in what could almost be called a loving caress, lightly wiping away the yakuza's tears.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you, Princess?" Dabi whispered, his voice quiet and nearly sad. "You upset us so much today. Angered Shigaraki. Scared me. We almost lost you, don't you understand that? What do you think would've happened if that hero took you away from us? Do you really believe he would've helped you, would've saved you? You? Of all people?"

A bitter laugh left Dabi's lips, and Chisaki was unable to stop himself from flinching at the harsh sound, shame wrapping its icy claws around his heart as the man forcefully swallowed down the lump in his throat.

The villain continued as if he hadn't even noticed.

"You really think anyone will ever come to save filth like you? That you will ever be able to escape from me? Me, the only person who actually cares about you?"

Fingers wrapped around his chin with sudden viciousness, pressing painfully into his cheeks, and a terrified whine left Kai's lips against his best wishes, glistening golden eyes flying open and meeting glowing turquoise. 

Deformed lips curled in a dark, monstrous scowl that would forever haunt Chisaki's darkest dreams.

"He would've used you, Kai." Dabi snarled, eyes flashing with anger for the first time in the duration of the entire evening, smoke faintly rising from his mutilated skin. "He would've hurt you. He would've taken what he wanted and once he was done he would've thrown you into Tartarus without so much as a second glance. Heroes don't care, you know they don't, Kai. I protected you today. What made you think he wouldn't use his position to take advantage of you?"

"Because it would've made no difference. You're hurting me now anyway," Chisaki croaked, his voice scratchy and rough, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips.

Fresh tears gathered in his eyes.

He knew he shouldn't speak. Shouldn't provoke the crazed pyromaniac even more. But he just couldn't help it, all the anger, the pain, the fear pouring uncontrollably forth as if through a broken dam, the yakuza no longer capable of holding his emotions at bay.

Chisaki's breath hitched, lips trembling as he spoke.

"You're hurting me. And you don't care."

Gentle fingers brushed stray strands of hair from his forehead, Dabi's face becoming unreadable as the villain loomed over him, brows knitting together in thought. 

"Is that what you really think? That I'm hurting you? And I don't care?"

Chisaki nodded and the villain tutted softly, a damp cloth suddenly pressing itself against the yakuza's bruised face, softly washing away the blood, bile and tears and providing a comforting chill to the swelling already blooming across the area from Shigaraki’s earlier punches.

"Kai, Kai, Kai, I'm not hurting you. I'm trying to help you. See, you're a disease, Kai. A curse. You hurt everyone around you, and you even bring pain upon yourself without noticing it. Just look where your quirk got you, babygirl. Your daddy in an endless coma. Your organization destroyed and your friends including that clock haired boyfriend of yours stuck in prison. Your work taken by others. Dignity and power completely stripped away..."

A heavy hand settled on one of his stumps, and Chisaki was unable to stop himself from flinching, trying desperately to pull it out of Dabi's grasp.

A heavy sigh left the villain's burnt lips.

"You should be grateful we took your arms away, Kai." He said, voice soft and quiet. "Your quirk was hurting you, and you were too blinded to see it. It was a poison and we cleansed you of it. Did it never cross your mind that had you not used it to kill Magne, you would not be in this situation right now? That had you not used it to hurt that girl and relied on it so much to do your dirty work it wouldn't have brought the heroes to your front door? Wouldn't have made you lose your father... or even your birth parents?"

Chisaki's breath caught within his throat, Adam's apple bobbing in a heavy swallow as horror and disbelief crashed down upon him like a tidal wave, wide, golden eyes staring at the villain above him.

No... Dabi couldn't know... Kai hadn't told anyone about that day, not even Hari. Only Pops knew, and the man would never betray his confidence like that. Nonono—

A fake, sympathetic frown ghosted over the corners of Dabi's ruined lips.

"You've been breaking people from the very beginning, haven't you? Guess I can't blame you. That's just how you were born. I know what you did, Kai..."

Chisaki shook his head in silent desperation, golden eyes wide with terror and so, so much pain.

"But... even though you hated your power, even though some part of you still feared it, and you correctly identified it as a sickness, the more you were forced to use it, the more you unknowingly became arrogant because of what it offered you, didn't you? Your parents eventually became a mere sacrifice for something greater. With your quirk you could change something. With it you were practically a God, untouchable, you made no mistakes. Because at the end of the day, you could always undo them. There was nothing you couldn't do as there were no drawbacks or repercussions to be faced. Or so you thought."

Hot breath ghosted unpleasantly over his neck as Dabi leaned in, Chisaki unable to cringe away from the unwanted closeness, unable to do anything but listen to the poison being whispered into his ears, eyes welling uncontrollably with tears, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow gasps.

The villain's staples glinted malevolently as ruined lips curled in a cruel, vicious smile.

"You used it for everything didn't you? Threw your weight around, feeling that your quirk would never allow you to face consequences for your actions all the while hypocritically accusing others of becoming blinded by their abilities. Even death was under your control, you could never be touched. Yet you never realized that for every time you used it - the noose around your neck only grew tighter, Princess."

Warm palms cupped his face, a shushing croon leaving the man's lips as the yakuza trembled uncontrollably beneath him, those sharp, beautiful features twisting with undisguised anguish. 

"Your quirk hurt you, Kai. Every time you used it - it took something away from you in return. Your parents. Your Pops. Your little group of gangsters. Your freedom. Little by little, it chipped away at you and you didn't even notice it. And now you're so accustomed to it that without it you're hurting yourself. I told you: if you hadn't tried to escape me - that hero wouldn't have had to die. Shigaraki wouldn't have had to beat you. And if you hadn't displeased us so much, I wouldn’t have to think of something new to discipline you. Shhh, now," a soothing kiss was pressed against his temple as Chisaki whimpered in terror at those words, impossibly warm arms wrapping around the other man's waist and lifting him into a comforting embrace, Kai trembling uncontrollably. "That's for another day. I won't be around here much for the next few months, so you will be under Toga's care. Do try to behave this time, hm, Princess?"

And he did try. 

He never talked back to her. Never disobeyed her orders, no matter how humiliating, or ridiculous he found them. Kept his head down. But she hurt him anyway. Because at the end of the day there was no way of taking back what his quirk had done to Magne.

As Chisaki soon found out - Toga liked to bite, to drink blood straight from the veins instead of through the use of her trusty tools, though she rarely got a chance to do so. Was rarely able to get so up close and personal with her victims. Until now that is.

It was agonizing. To feel sharp canines sink into either his neck or wrists, tear through veins and effectively shred them, the girl quite literally gorging herself on his blood. Chisaki didn't know how he hadn’t been exsanguinated by now. How they kept him alive even though he should’ve bled out a long time ago. Forcing water down his throat at the end of each session could only do so much, after all. But he supposed that after years of stabbing unfortunate victims in dark alleyways, Toga had long since become familiar with anatomy and knew just how much damage the human body could take, how much blood she could syphon before her victims inevitably collapsed dead.

Kai could only hope that one day she would grant him that mercy as well. Even though he realized just how hopeless that wish was. Anything was better than living like this.

Even if Dabi said he deserved it.

Deceptively soft fingers trailed down his face, a firm hand grasping him by the chin and forcing him to look up, dull, unfocused golden eyes meeting identical golden ones. 

His own face stared at him from above, unmarred, barely visible through the haze of darkness and delirium, yet undeniably there. Chisaki didn't have enough presence of mind to figure out how could this be, for there to be two of him, merely staring upwards at the man looming above him like a vulture, taking in the features he'd used to know so well. And yet... he couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong about them. Something alien that seemed to worm itself into the familiar emotionless expression, something that he'd never seen on his own face.

The impostor's lips curled in a fanged, unfamiliar smile.

"Look at ya." His own voice whispered, an unfamiliar accent invading his vocals as gloved hands cupped Chisaki's face, stopping him from looking away. "Look at how pathetic you are. How far you've fallen." 

He didn't want to look. Chisaki knew how pitiful he was compared to what he'd used to be. He was barely even a shadow of the man known as 'Overhaul' now. A mockery. A sad imitation. Compared to the powerful, perfect version of his past self standing over him now - he was nothing. 

"You used to be so strong. So proud and powerful. You had an entire organization at your beck and call. You were gonna become the next king of the underworld. Now look at ya. You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing but trash. A toy for others to play with."

Cruel laughter, so similar to his own, echoed in the confines of the otherwise empty basement and his eyes slid shut, no longer able to look at what he'd used to be, his past no more than a distant, extravagant dream.

Had it even been real? Had he been more than the League's plaything once? He couldn't be sure… could no longer bring himself to trust his own mind.

It had failed him so many times already.

A disgusted sneer ghosted over the ghost's lips and with a rough jerk - the hands around his face were gone and Toga his vision (he could no longer tell which) was walking away, Twice scurrying after the other villain without so much as a glance at the man he had watched his partner carve up for the past two hours while he'd lounged back in the shadows, too squeamish to participate, but all too happy to watch and scream contradicting statements and egg Toga on.

As soon as they were gone, Chisaki shifted from his spot against the wall and crawled back into the corner he'd been forcefully dragged out of for his torture session, hissing as he put pressure on bleeding bites and cuts, but too desperate to get back to the only comfort he had to care.

Stained and soiled as it was from months of lying in filth, the coat was still warm and comforting as he laboriously slid beneath it, wrapping it around himself as much as he could with his stumps, the yakuza burying his face into the folds of its dark fabric, finally allowing the tears to pour forth now that there was no one else there to see them. 

Dabi had allowed him to keep it after his failed escape. Most likely as a means of reminding him of what would happen if Kai were to ever try and disobey him again. He had tried to keep away from it at first, the hero's dying screams echoing in his ears every time he looked at it, his stomach churning with nausea. But in the end he found himself inexplicably drawn to it, Chisaki slowly inching himself closer and closer to the only remnant of the person who'd tried to help him, who'd tried to save him, who'd thought he was actually worth saving. And as he curled into it every night, Chisaki couldn't help but feel comforted by its warmth, the coat reminding him of the kindness he had gotten to experience that day, even if it wasn't for very long. Even if it represented something that, he had to admit, may be unachievable.

Wrapping himself in it allowed him to dream. To dream of one day being saved. Of being freed from this hell he himself had created. Even though deep down Chisaki knew that would never happen. He would never get to leave this hellish place. Not truly. Not ever.

He fell asleep like that, curled up on the cold stone floor beneath the dead hero's coat, tears drying on his face and his last thought being a desperate wish for freedom he already knew would never be granted to him.

But perhaps… death eventually would.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Detective Tsukauchi seemed like a rather pleasant, if excessively by the book individual. He could instantly tell the guy was a good man. A just police officer. Probably one of the few uncorrupted ones left that the HPSC hadn't yet dug its claws in. Even so, Hawks knew better than to lower his guard around him. Intel dictated that Tsukauchi possessed a lie detector quirk, allowing him to tell when people weren't being entirely truthful. Even if there was no way of telling what they were lying about, simply knowing that they were could be damaging enough. Hawks couldn't let the detective know he was holding something back. Couldn't let even the faintest suspicion of ulterior motives to worm its way into Tsukauchi's mind. His mission could not be exposed so early. Because then… the entire country would be at risk.

Recovery Girl greeted them cordially at the doors to her office, though Hawks could tell that it wasn't with much enthusiasm. The Hero had heard many stories about the woman's giving and caring nature and knew that there were no other people she cared for more than her own patients, whether they were heroes, civilians, or villains. He knew she'd fought against this questioning with everything she had, saying that Kai Chisaki wasn't ready, that he'd only just started to take his first steps towards recovery, that he hadn't even started therapy with her yet to begin to deal with what had happened to him.

It made something within Hawks squirm, guilt settling like a heavy weight within his chest at what he was about to do, what he had to do, for all the sakes of all the people of Japan,  and, perhaps, the world. After all, what was the life of one child abuser when compared to the lives of millions upon millions of innocent and law-abiding civilians?

And yet... Even putting a feather blade through Best Jeanist without knowing for sure whether the experimental procedure would truly keep him alive was somehow easier than this.

Tsukauchi entered the ward first and Hawks could hear his introductions through the half-open door even as he took this time to amble around the small office, his eyes roaming over the few photos plastered to the gray walls. He wasn't surprised in the least to find that Endeavor was absent from all of them. It was unlikely that the man knew Recovery Girl all that well, despite spending three years with her as his school nurse. Knowing him, he'd probably never even visited her, preferring to deal with all his training injuries himself. But… perhaps that was for the best. Hawks wasn't sure if he'd be able to face his idol now, when he was mere seconds from committing one of the worst acts in his entire career— in his life even. Wasn't sure that he'd be able to look into those stern turquoise eyes… and do what needed to be done.

What would Endeavor think of him, if he knew? If he learned of how Hawks had stood by and watched as a group of sadistic criminals abused a helpless, armless man, of how he'd even taken part in the activities, taken advantage of Chisaki's inability to fight back, all the while telling himself that it was all for the greater good? Would he be disgusted with him? Would he no longer see him as a hero? Hawks supposed he wouldn't blame him if that were the case. He barely felt like he was a hero nowadays…

The door slid open a fraction more, and he took this as his invitation to enter, striding into the hidden ward.

His first impression was that the room was rather small, but not claustrophobically so. If Hawks really had to describe it, he'd say it seemed almost cozy, not at all like what he'd expected a hospital room to look like.

There were books spread over every available surface, a few opened on a certain page, most stacked in neat piles and featuring familiar neon bookmarks - each color signifying a different topic. A few vases stood on the narrow windowsill, the flowers within them giving off a pleasant fragrance, not strong enough to beat the sharp smell of antiseptic and lingering sickness, but putting up a good effort to do so nonetheless. It was probably Recovery Girl's idea to add them, once Chisaki was no longer in intensive care. To liven up the place, make it seem less like what it really was: a hospital… and a prison. Not to mention help with Chisaki's depression. Even Hawks knew that plants, especially colorful ones, could be beneficial for those struggling with mental health issues, even if only marginally. A purple fur blanket was draped over the white, hospital covers of the man's bed, garish in the hero's opinion, but at the same time undeniably warm and comfortable. One of the UA students he'd heard so much about must’ve fetched it for him. A rather sweet gesture… it broke his heart to have to ruin their efforts.

And as he finally lifted his gaze to the man occupying the hospital bed before him, he found wide golden eyes staring back at him from the midday brightness, the blinding sunlight streaming through the single window doing absolutely nothing to conceal the horror etched into every line of the yakuza's face.

Fortunately, Tsukauchi didn't seem to notice.

"Chisaki, this is Pro Hero Hawks, the former number three — now number two hero of Japan. I'm sure you are familiar with him. He is here to help us bring the people who did this to you to justice." Even though he's one of them, Hawks added silently to himself, lips twitching downwards in a barely visible frown. 

Chisaki's throat flexed in a heavy swallow and Hawks could practically see those golden eyes grow wet with unshed tears as he stared at the abuser currently invading his only sanctuary, lower lip trembling uncontrollably as he struggled to keep his emotions at bay. With Tsukauchi now staring at his notes and briefly oblivious to the tension pervading the small ward, the hero took this opportunity to silence the yakuza before he could do or say something incriminating, the man forcefully narrowing his eyes in a dark glare and pressing a finger against his lips in a shushing motion, thumb swiping in an arc over his throat.

The silent message was very clear:

Be quiet... or else!

Chisaki's head dipped in a quick, almost frantic nod and he obediently dropped his gaze to his lap so that he was no longer looking at the number two hero, his trembling fingers kneading the purple blanket draped over his knees and the small tattered novel placed in his lap, as if those two things were now his only lifelines, the only things keeping him from spiralling into panic. Hawks tilted his head, peering at the tiny, surprisingly worn looking book cradled within the man's arms. Lord of the Rings, huh? Wasn’t that a popular children's book from about three hundred years ago? An odd literary choice for someone like Chisaki, he had to admit. The yakuza didn't strike him as a man who would read children's books to unwind. One of the boys must have brought it to him, and he must’ve accepted it just to humor them. And now, it was the only thing keeping him even remotely calm in this situation by reminding him of the people who'd been caring for him for the past several months.

Hawks' heart clenched at the thought, pain sinking its claws deep into his soul.

Kami, he hated to do this.

The sound of an opening door briefly tore his attention away from the distressed yakuza before him, Recovery Girl flashing across his periphery as she quietly entered the small ward and immediately made her way over to her upset patient, briefly placing a soft hand on the man's shoulder. Steadying him.

Tsukauchi took this opportunity to finally start his questioning.

"Chisaki, the last time we spoke I asked if you knew how you might have found yourself near the former hideout of the Shie Hassaikai. I'm sorry to have to ask this of you again, but: do you? You must understand, we need all the information we can get, even the smallest details can be useful."

"D-Dabi." Chisaki said, his voice hoarse as he shot a furtive look at Hawks before dropping his gaze back to his lap. The hero could already tell he was going to be doing that a lot. Looking at him. Tailoring his story according to Hawks' silent instructions. Doing his best to avoid being punished for confessing too much.

Good. Maybe this would go more smoothly than he'd initially thought.

"H-he s-said I had… s-served my purpose, s-so he br-brought me b-back. Th-thought it'd be fitting if… if I d-died near my ho-home."

Hawks internally winced. From the corner of his eyes he could see the detective's hand hesitate for a fraction of a second before writing the answer down and Recovery Girl's jaw clench in anger.

"Served your purpose? What purpose was that? Could you elaborate?" 

Chisaki swallowed. "As his toy. He… He was growing bored of me."

"And it wasn't for any other reason? Before your abduction it was reported that you'd struck a deal with the League of Villains, using their name and popularity to establish more connections for your eventual distribution of quirk erasing bullets. Our initial assumption was that you were kidnapped for information, such as your research into quirk erasing drugs so that the League could continue your work after the takedown of your organization. Could it be possible that you'd told them everything you knew and they wanted to get rid of you because they no longer saw you as a resource?"

Chisaki shook his head, the movement almost wild, frantic, eyes brimming with terror. "N-no, I had no contact with the League after the initial deal. I-I don't know anything about them, or their plans!"

"Detective—" Recovery Girl began as Chisaki's chest rose and fell with increasing speed, nearing hyperventilation. Hawks shot him another warning look, signalling for him to calm himself, ordering him to get his fear back under control. He was being too obvious.

Tsukauchi sighed.

"So then it's safe to say that the League wasn't present during the attack on your convoy? Only Dabi? Why do you think he would risk so much to attack the police and a Pro Hero just to get to you?"

"During our first meeting… there was an altercation. I… killed one of their members." Chisaki whispered, his gaze dropping to his lap in shame. "He wanted revenge. Give me what I deserved."

"And no one else in the League wanted revenge? Only Dabi?"

"Yes."

"Then why did Toga and Twice betray you during the raid? Multiple heroes as well as members of your own organization testified that the two deliberately sabotaged your operations and crossed sides during the fight, thus indirectly aiding the police. If they did not hold any resentment towards you for killing their comrade, why would they do their best to hurt you or get you arrested?"

"I-I don't know."

"If they did not betray you, how did Dabi know which way your convoy was headed? There was a multitude of villain hospitals in the area, and he had no knowledge of the extent of your injuries, so he could have easily assumed that there was no urgency and you were being taken to a more secure hospital farther away rather than the nearest one. Yet he didn't. How did he know where they were taking you?"

"I don't know."

Chisaki's shoulders shook, the man looking like he was on the brink of breaking down in tears. The nurse began to rise from her seat to interfere, a fierce glint in her eyes. Hawks stopped her before she could.

Tsukauchi flipped the notebook shut, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he looked at the clearly upset yakuza, sadness evident in every line of his face. 

"I can't help you if you keep lying to me, Chisaki." He said, voice soft and gentle, borderline sorrowful. "I'm sorry, but your story just doesn't add up. There's police officer testimony that Shigaraki was present during the attack on your convoy, so other members of the League were there. You employed Toga and Twice, meaning you had to have had contact with the League after the deal was made. As I've mentioned before, there's eyewitness testimony of malicious intent towards you from both Toga and Twice. Furthermore, there's no feasible way in which Dabi would know, without being expressly told, where you were being taken. You're not telling me the truth, Chisaki, and it's obvious."

The yakuza curled in on himself at the quiet reproach in the detective's voice, burying his face in his arms, trembling uncontrollably from head to toe. Hawks couldn't stop the strong feeling of pity that swelled within his heart at the distressing sight even if he tried, the hero forcing himself not to show it, his jaw setting in an effort not to display any emotion.

The thought of how this needed to be done, that the lives of millions were at stake, ran through his head like a mantra, doing absolutely nothing to quell the bitter sensation of guilt settling like a heavy weight against his ribcage.

"That's enough." The woman's voice came, quiet and barely audible, from the other side of the room. When Hawks finally looked up, he saw that the nurse was standing now, one hand placed firmly on Chisaki's trembling shoulder while she glared at the two of them, as if daring them to disobey her. "He's had enough. I told you he wasn't ready for this."

Neither of them had the courage to argue with her. 

Before he left however, Tsukauchi lingered in the doorway and turned to shoot the yakuza one last look, his dark eyes unusually serious, and yet glimmering with faint compassion.

"I can't keep you out of prison if you don't take the first step, Chisaki." He said softly. "I know it's hard to believe and I know you're scared, but you are safe here and we do want to help you. But we just can't do that if you don't give us something to work with. Just… think about it all right? That's all we ask."

And with that, the detective slipped out of the hidden room, the door quietly clicking shut behind him. 

"I'd like to speak to him alone,  if possible." Hawks said when the nurse shot him a pointed look, the woman clearly shooing him out. "If it's all right with Chisaki, of course." 

The yakuza's head dipped in a shallow nod of agreement, and Recovery Girl sighed in reluctant resignation, moving to exit the small ward herself. "You have ten minutes. After that I'm kicking you out. You've upset him enough for one day."

"Roger that, ma'am!" Hawks chirped with a cheerful salute, flashing one of his practiced, blinding smiles that always had such a pleasant effect on the media. Though he wasn't surprised in the least when the school nurse didn't seem to fall for it one bit. "I won't take up much of his time, I promise."

A tense silence fell between them once the door finally slid closed behind the woman's back, the abuser and the abused turning to stare at each other, Hawks' gaze becoming as cold as ice while tears freely pooled within Chisaki's eyes, the man no longer capable of holding them at bay.

"Why are you here?" Kai whispered, his voice so shaky that Hawks had to quite literally strain his hearing to understand him, the man turning to fully face his victim.

A forced smirk flashed across the hero's face.

"Is that really the greeting I get from my favorite toy?" He asked teasingly, marigold eyes glinting in the sunlight as Chisaki was unable to stop himself from flinching at the cruel words, nails raking against his wrist in an already familiar nervous tic he had adopted while still in the League's captivity. "But alright... Dabi misses you, you know? He wanted me to see how you were doing."

The yakuza's lips trembled. "Please… I-I… I wasn't… I wasn't going to tell them anything. Pleasepleaseplease don't—"

"Shhhh," Hawks whispered, swiftly striding forward and cupping the man's face, thumb swiping in an arc over Chisaki's cheekbone. "I know. I know you weren't going to tell them anything. I know you would never betray your masters. But even if you did, we wouldn't be upset with you, pet. Dabi knows how manipulative these pesky heroes can be with their false morals and fake promises of rescue. He wouldn't blame you for falling for their ruse. Besides, it's not like you have anything of worth to tell them anyway. No names, no locations, no exact numbers… You weren't all that good at being a villain, but even as an informant you're useless!" A strangled hiccupping sob left Chisaki's lips at those words and Hawks practically felt his heart shatter at the pitiful sound even as he steeled himself to continue, lips curling in a sneer. 

It was all for the greater good, he had to remind himself of that. All in the name of creating a world where heroes would have too much time on their hands. What was the life of a single, deplorable man compared to that?

"That's not what I'm here for. See, what I'm more interested in is you... how should I put this? Letting slip my name. That's what I simply can't have, Princess."

Chisaki couldn't stop himself from shuddering at the loathed nickname as the hero's eyes seemed to go several degrees colder, his face impassive, void of any mockery. Spelling danger.

"See, the heroes can't know I'm a traitor. And I'm here to make sure you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut about it. Because if you don't, well, I'm sure the League will be more than ecstatic to see you again, sooner than expected."

His other hand, the one not cupping Chisaki's face, trailed up the man's thigh through the fabric of the thick covers draped over him, settling in a heavy weight against a prominent hip, thumb rubbing firm circles into the bone there.

Cold, marigold eyes met terrified golden ones.

"Maybe I'll even bring those two kids you've been hanging out with along for the ride… show them what you really are, what you're really good for…"

The feeling of tears soaking his fingertips almost made him vomit.

"Please, please don't touch them…" Chisaki begged him, chest stuttering and voice cracking with the force of his despair. "I-I'll do whatever you want, just please…"

Hawks quickly shushed him, pressing a light kiss against the man's temple, a soothing croon reverberating through his body as Kai trembled uncontrollably against him, stifled, hiccuping sobs leaving pale, trembling lips

"Shhhh, I won't involve them. Not unless I have to. After all, I'm not you, Chisaki."

And without so much as a second glance, Hawks slipped out of the small ward, leaving a sobbing, broken man behind him.

Chapter Text

How foolish could he have been? How stupid, naive and unbelievably hopeful to think that he ever stood a chance against them? That he was actually capable of fighting them? Him? Of all people? What made him think he could ever defeat them? How could he have listened to that young, inexperienced and idealistic boy… and actually, unironically believed that he could ever win against them? Them? People who were so much stronger than him?

Hot tears soaked the white hospital sheets beneath him. Wracking sobs assaulted his form without mercy, the yakuza curling in on himself in a tight ball, no longer capable of holding his emotions at bay. What point was there to do so? Hawks had left a long time ago, taking Chisaki's desperate delusions of safety and rekindled hope of being saved along with him. Recovery Girl was gone as well. There was no one left to witness his tears. No one to watch as his determination to heal, to fight back crumbled to the ground, the yakuza finally remembering his place in this world, his purpose, how strong his tormentors really were... when compared to him.

Listening to Bakugo had been nice… but in doing so Kai had allowed himself to dream. Dream that he could actually become stronger, that he actually stood a chance of overcoming his demons, the man fooling himself into believing that he was somehow more than the pathetic, sniveling worm that he'd always been, hiding behind his quirk and good only for providing carnal release. If even that. Even Pops had always known he was weak, that he was useless. He had refused his help, after all. Didn't want him to try and bring the yakuza back to power, because even back then he'd already foreseen that Kai would fail miserably at it. Just like he'd failed at everything else, in fact, including being a good son, worthy of the investment.

Even as Overhaul, his supposedly strong and invincible alter ego, Kai was a weakling. Shigaraki had made that clear to him. He was a nobody. Compared to the League he was nothing. How could he have permitted that child to actually talk him into thinking otherwise? How could he have allowed himself to think he would ever be able to defeat them… defeat Dabi?

Swallowing down a sob, his shaking hand slipped beneath the heavy mattress of his hospital bed, fingers groping around for several seconds before finally wrapping around the makeshift blade he'd hidden there several months back, the man utterly disregarding the way it's sharp edges dug into his skin, drawing forth droplets of crimson blood as he pulled it out and brought it up to his eyes, watching his glistening, tearful face stare back at him from its shining surface.

Deep down Chisaki had to admit he'd always known that this was coming. Had realized that there was no other way he would truly be able to escape them. The heroes couldn't save him, wouldn't save him. Hawks had proven as much. No matter how much Kai had tried to convince himself otherwise, try and fool himself for these past few weeks, thinking that what the boys were telling him was more than just a wish, more than an ultimately unachievable dream, he couldn't be rescued from this hell. He could only leave it. He had allowed them to whisper sweet lies into his ear for long enough, poison his mind, until he lost sight of his true place within this world, his real purpose - which was always to be beneath Dabi, and that was unacceptable.

Enough was enough.

Truth be told he'd planned this a long time ago. Knew that it was inevitable, and foresaw that one day he would end up taking his own life. It was the only way he could escape Dabi and the League, after all, his last show of defiance that he could muster to the very people who'd taken everything away from him. He couldn't defeat them, couldn't make them pay. But... at the very least... he could take his life before they could. End it all on his own terms.

But Chisaki also wouldn't be fooling himself into thinking it was going to be easy. No. He was done with lying to himself. He knew all too well how tricky it would really be, with the nurse having long since foreseen his attempt, and doing everything in her power to stop it. Leaving him with very few methods to choose from.

Jumping would undoubtedly do the trick. He was most certainly high enough for the fall to kill him. But there were bars on his window, and even if there weren't with the sheer amount of heroes swarming this accursed school he'd undoubtedly be noticed and caught long before he could hit the ground. Drowning was also out of the question. With how weak he still was, he wasn't yet well enough to go anywhere, or even so much as bathe without assistance, and even during the few moments he was alone he was not left unsupervised for long enough to drown.

He didn't have any access to a gun either, even if he had the means and opportunity to somehow go searching for one. Few used those nowadays except for the police and small-time thugs, and it was all but unheard of for heroes to rely on such weapons instead of their own quirks or support items. Poisoning was out of the question as well, as he had nothing to really poison, or even overdose himself with. All medications were kept under tight lock and key when they weren't being used and though he was decent enough at pickpocketing from his childhood spent on the streets, there was still the problem that he was too weak to even budge from his bed, much less make his way over to the cabinets where the drugs were stored. Hanging would require considerable physical effort as well, even though it would be all too easy to tie his sheets into a noose.

All of which really left him with only one viable option: cutting his wrists. 

Prying a loose shard of metal from his bed frame was easy. Sharpening it too. He knew where to cut and how, knew when he'd fall unconscious and how long it'd take him to bleed out. He'd rechecked the position of the artery he was to sever in the books a week before Hawks' cruel reminder of his place, although he'd already known where it was located, as if even back then it was clear to him on a subconscious level that it would all be over soon. As if he'd foretold his own demise.

Suicide by wrist slashing had an exceedingly low success rate, Chisaki knew that all too well. But it was the only reliable way out that he saw with his current conditions. If he did it right, that is. And he could not take any chances with it. He only had one shot at this, and if he failed... he would never again have the chance to escape. To put an end to his suffering once and for all.

Severing the brachial artery in the crook of his arm would mean a quicker death, but it was located deeper, far more difficult to reach. He could miss it, and he couldn't afford to make such mistakes. Cutting the radial artery was the more practical option. It was easy to access, a mere three millimeters beneath the skin, it wouldn't take much at all to successfully sever it. It would hurt, but the pain of cutting open his own arm was nothing compared to the agony Chisaki was in already, the agony he'd been in for the last three years, in fact. 

It was a small price to pay for freedom.

Upon severing it, unconsciousness would come in approximately thirty seconds. Death in as little as two minutes. Chisaki had to make sure that during that short time he would be alone. So the heroes could not... try and stop him... when he was no longer able to fight back. 

Bakugo and Deku would understand his decision… Someday. Chisaki was sure of it. Would one day realize that they were much better off without him. That if they'd stuck around him any longer... he would've inevitably ended up breaking them too. Because ultimately Kai was a disease. At the end of the day he was a curse, just like Dabi had said he was. And he simply couldn't bear the idea that after hurting so many already... he would become the reason those two boys suffered as well.

So... he watched them. Figured out their schedules. Calculated the short window of time during which he would finally put an end to his suffering, finally put himself out of his misery, and leave the world he no longer wanted to be a part of. Nobody would miss him when he was gone. Nobody would shed any tears over him. After everything he’d done - nobody would care if he were dead.

Not Pops. Not the Eight Precepts. Not Hari, and not even the boys.

They were all better off without him.

So why couldn't he stop the pain from welling in his chest at the thought of leaving them?

His hand shook as he carefully positioned it over his wrist, eyes tracing the visible lines of blue veins, the man mentally calculating where the artery would be. The slightest pressure of the sharp edge of the shard against his skin was enough to draw forth tiny beads of blood, the man watching them trickle down his arm in what could almost be called visceral fascination, Chisaki seemingly unable to tear his attention away from the thin rivulets of dark red.

Humans were such fragile things... One single slice in the wrong place, one single mistake - and a life that had seemed would never end, would never go amiss - would suddenly unravel. Would suddenly be cut short.

But… Chisaki supposed... his life had ended three years ago. Maybe even earlier than that.

There was a short series of knocks, and the door slid open before he could react, before he could even think of doing so, his eyes snapping toward the two figures now standing in the open doorway. Silence fell upon the tiny ward and he watched, unable to tear his gaze away, as the horrified realization slowly crept across the boys' faces, as their minds struggled to comprehend what they were seeing, the handle of the tattered school bag slipping through Deku's limp fingers, landing upon the polished floor with a soft thud.

And as if that was all the signal they needed, Bakugo lunged, and Chisaki - cut down.

Everything became a massive blur after that. He felt the painful, vice-like grip around his injured wrist, foreign fingers only barely staunching the heavy flow of arterial blood. Was dimly aware of the weight pressing down on him from above, crushing his ribcage, the shard flying from his grasp as the blond boy tried desperately to pin his wildly thrashing form beneath him. But he barely recalled when his own fingers had latched around Bakugo's shoulder in a weak attempt to shove the much stronger body off of him, Chisaki desperately struggling against him, fighting to stay conscious for as long as possible. 

If he succumbed to unconsciousness now - he would never be free of this hell.

But despite the chaos surrounding him… he remembered with terrifying, crystal clarity how Deku had stood rooted to the spot in the open doorway, his bag a forgotten pile at his feet, a lost, heartbroken expression seemingly frozen on his freckled face as he watched the two men he knew and cared about wrestle with each other, one - to save, and the other - to die.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU STANDING AROUND THERE FOR?!" Bakugo shouted, cutting through the haze of growing delirium, though his words were already sounding far away, blood loss sapping Chisaki's remaining strength, his consciousness beginning to slip through his fingers, only making him struggle that much harder.

No! He had to stay awake! 

"GET HELP!"

"No! Let me go!" 

His own voice traitorously cracked as he shouted, betraying him as he thrashed within Bakugo's grasp with rejuvenated desperation, frantically trying to wrench his uninjured hand from the boy's hand and pry his fingers off his wound, let the blood freely flow. When he looked back, darkness already edging his vision, - Deku was long gone, but there were shapes moving in the distance, dim sounds of running footsteps and screams barely reaching him through the haze of blood loss and Bakugo's steady stream of curses.

And suddenly - the crushing weight upon him was gone, entirely different fingers clenching around his profusely bleeding wrist with terrifying strength, dim golden eyes snapping up and meeting startling blue.

Mirio's face, impossibly pale and serious stared down at him from the shadows above with startling intensity, the hero easily immobilizing his thrashing body beneath him and pinning him against the bloodstained mattress of his bed in a practiced hold, one hand reaching out and slamming against the emergency button that would hopefully summon Recovery Girl right back to the small ward. 

Chisaki didn't have time to contemplate the youth's sudden appearance. He had much more pressing matters at hand. The boy was stronger than him, he had to admit, but that wasn't all that surprising. He'd been stronger than him three years ago too, back when they'd been fighting for entirely different reasons. Chisaki had lost to him then. But he didn't intend to lose to him now.

This was a fight he was going to win.

And yet it was so difficult to keep struggling… so overwhelmingly exhausting to force himself to stay awake. Mirio's grip on him was stronger than Bakugo's, far more painful, Chisaki's injured wrist throbbing with agony where large fingers were clasped around it in a vice-like grip, bleeding crimson. It would be so easy to just let go… To close his eyes and go to sleep... But he knew that the moment he did that - the heroes would win.

Deku and Bakugo were still standing by the doorway when he looked back. For a moment he couldn't tear his attention away from the dazed, confused and lost expressions on their faces, the way Bakugo suddenly seemed unable to tear his attention away from his bloodstained hands, his heart clenching within his chest as if someone were squeezing it in a vice-like grip. 

He had done this to them. He was always doing this to someone.

The sudden surge of anger took him completely by surprise.

"Finish what you started!" 

The shout left his throat unbidden, unprompted, echoing in the small room that now seemed oddly large, Deku's attention snapping towards him, wide, emerald eyes meeting smoldering golden. 

Chisaki's lip curled in an angry snarl, face twisting in horrifying, psychotic rage just like it had all those distant years ago, teeth bared in a vicious growl.

"You wanted to kill me, didn't you?!" He screamed, blood loss making the world around him spin, blackness edging across his vision. He ignored the startled look Bakugo threw his way, the infuriated glint that invaded Mirio's eyes, the way the hero's fingers clenched around his wrist so hard it almost made him cry out, his frantic, unfocused gaze never leaving Deku's trembling form.

He didn't even notice the small crowd now gathering in the open doorway, didn't see the girl who'd once held him down after he'd been hit with Eri's quirk press her hand against her mouth in horror at the sight of him, brown eyes impossibly wide, or the one with the frog quirk stand rooted to the spot, seemingly frozen with shock. Didn't notice and simply didn't care to do so, all of his attention now on the teen who had defeated him all those distant years ago.

"You wanted to punish me for what I did to that girl, didn't you?!" He spat, teeth bared and eyes flashing in uncontrollable fury. "To that hero?! Well here's your chance! Kill me! End it! I put a spike through Nighteye's gut! It was I that strapped Eri to that chair and cut her open! Slashed her wrists and let her bleed until I had what I wanted! Ignored her cries for mercy as I harvested bits of her flesh! I did that to her! To all of them! SO FINISH THE FUCKING JOB! KILL ME! PUT ME OUT OF MY GODDAMN MISERY YOU—!"

The sharp prick of a needle sliding into a vein took him by surprise, and suddenly Recovery Girl was there, at his side, swimming in his periphery, her face grim as she turned to face Mirio, the most serious he had ever seen it.

"Keep the pressure on, dear." She said but her voice was already fading away, sounding unusually muffled, as if coming through a thick pane of glass. "He's lost a lot of blood..."

Chisaki didn't hear what she said next. His consciousness was slipping through his fingers like water no matter how much he struggled to grasp it, to stay awake, the drugs now coursing through his system overpowering his waning strength to fight. What point was there to do so anyway? He had already lost. Failed, just like he'd failed at everything else. He couldn't save the organization. Couldn't make Pops proud. And now he couldn't even kill himself without someone thwarting his plans.

Just like always.

A single tear trickled down his face.

He was so tired... He just wanted all of this to be over…

A deep breath left the nurse's lips as Chisaki's eyes finally slid shut, his body going limp in Mirio's grasp where previously it was twisting and thrashing around like a snake, a deafening silence falling upon the tiny ward, entirely undisturbed, save for the barely audible pitter patter of dripping blood. "He's sedated. Toogata, keep your grip on him while I prep him for surgery and set up a blood transfusion. Aizawa, please escort your students back to the dorms. I need all the space I can get. Vascular surgery isn't easy, it's going to be a long night."

"Will he live?" Deku asked, his voice sounding unusually weak to his own ears, trembling uncontrollably. "I-I can't leave him—"

"—Recovery Girl will do everything in her power to save him. You being here will only hinder her from doing that." Aizawa gently interrupted him, voice firm and leaving no room for debate. However, the man seemed to hesitate then even as he gently pushed them in the direction of the open door, his dark eyes raking up and down the boys' forms before flickering to the small group still standing in the doorway, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. "But… I won't lie to you. Given the damage and blood loss… there's a good chance he won't survive the night."

Trying his best to ignore the heartbroken looks on the boys' faces, he gently herded the entire crowd outside, hands briefly brushing against Uraraka's head and Tsuyu's shoulder in a comforting manner, the ward door clicking softly shut behind him. Concealing the horrifying scene from view.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Silence fell upon the spacious living room as Aizawa finished his story. For a long time, none of his students spoke, seemingly unable to comprehend what they'd just been told. For a brief, short moment Shota regretted telling them the truth. Then he remembered they would've found out anyway, would've been faced with this horrid reality eventually. If not with Chisaki, then with someone else. There was always a dark case in a hero's career, after all. There was no avoiding it.

It was better if they first heard it from him.

But the lingering quiet was starting to worry him. Especially when it came to Midoriya and Bakugo. The two boys had barely budged from where Aizawa had first sat them down as he roused and gathered the entirety of 1-A in the dorm living room, having come to terms with the fact that there was simply no point in hiding Chisaki's continued survival any longer. Not after Uraraka, Tsuyu, Todoroki and Iida had witnessed what they did - the yakuza thrashing and bleeding all over the place, screaming and begging for death to be delivered to him. People just kept finding out anyway, there was no longer any point in being secretive, and his kids… deserved an explanation.

This was for the best... or so he liked to believe.

Bakugo was still staring at his hands. He seemed unable to tear his eyes away from them, though they'd long since been washed clean of Chisaki's blood. Aizawa had walked him to the nearest bathroom first thing upon entering the dorms and had watched the yakuza's crimson lifeblood leak down the drain. He wondered if the boy could still see the red staining his fingers, if only now he was realizing that he'd quite literally held someone's life in his hands, that if he'd loosened his grip - even for a moment - Chisaki would be dead.

If he wasn't already.

Midoriya seemed to be faring little better. He still wouldn't look at any of them, his emerald gaze trained stubbornly on the floor, the look in his eyes empty and impossibly distant. Aizawa could see his arms shaking where they were supporting his weight, fingers clenching onto the folds of his uniform slacks in a white-knuckled grip. Frankly, he was surprised the poor kid was still sitting upright. It wasn't every day that you had a former villain screaming at you to kill them… to put them out of their misery.

He doubted anyone could fully grasp how the boy was feeling now.

This had been a tough day for his students. One that they were not likely to forget for years to come. First they had learned of the exact reasons behind Chisaki's inability to use his quirk and sexual assault, and right after that, with no time to recover their bearings from the blow they'd been dealt, they had walked in on the villain slicing his own wrist open… All Might really couldn't have chosen a worse time to tell them the truth. Tsukauchi couldn't keep his desperate superiors from ordering him to start questioning Chisaki about his years of captivity, despite the yakuza not being mentally stable enough to handle that kind of stress. And now… here they were.

He wished he could wipe the memory of the last twenty-four hours from his students' minds… he really did. But unfortunately he did not have that kind of power, and... in the end this would only make them stronger. The most he could do for them now was be there for them, guide them through this difficult time.

"Is he... going to be okay?"

It was, surprisingly, Uraraka who broke the suffocating silence first, her voice, impossibly soft and quiet, carrying easily across the silent room. When he looked at her, he could see the faint glimmer of tears still swimming within her large, brown eyes. Aizawa supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She was a kind-hearted soul, one of his more sensitive students, and she'd been there on the day of the raid as well, had been the one to restrain Chisaki and hand him over to the police. He knew that, in some capacity, she'd blamed herself for his disappearance too. Even if she never admitted it. Uraraka had had direct contact with Toga that day, had been lured by the villain straight to the center of the fray. And she had failed to warn the police to take precautions as well, not expecting the League to hold such a strong grudge against the yakuza as to actually go after Chisaki, even after his arrest.

And now, after three years of thinking the man was dead, the first thing she sees is him begging to die.

Aizawa breathed a heavy sigh.

"Chisaki has severed his radial artery." He said, voice equally soft and quiet. "If it hadn't been for Bakugo being there to instantly apply pressure... he would've bled out within three minutes. But even though we caught him in time, he has still lost a great amount of blood. Recovery Girl is doing everything she can for him."

"It's my fault…"

Midoriya's whisper broke his attention away from the brown-haired girl, his dark gaze falling upon the boy's hunched form.

Izuku's breath hitched.

"I-I brought him all those books… I thought… thought he'd feel better… I-I didn't think he'd use them to—"

"It wasn't your fault, Midoriya." Aizawa cut him off before he could finish, the look in his eyes firm. "It's likely Chisaki already knew where the artery was. His quirk requires knowledge and precision, he couldn't reconstruct entire human bodies without at least a vague understanding of how they work. That and his work with… Eri… has made him all too familiar with the vascular system, particularly in our arms. Even without the books he'd know where to cut. We should just be grateful he didn't decide to go for the brachial artery instead."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Iida asked, his voice unusually even, void of any emotion, not accompanied by the customary air chopping motions. "You were keeping a known felon on school grounds, it was your duty as our teachers to inform your students of this development!"

Aizawa sighed. 

"Your anger is understandable, Iida." He said, hands slipping deep into his pockets. "We should've informed you of the possible dangers of keeping Kai Chisaki on UA grounds. But at the time we could not risk anyone knowing. Once word got out that we had him in our custody the school would be swarmed with angry parents and the media, all wanting to know why we had a highly dangerous villain that was rumored dead three years ago in our custody. If that happened the entire investigation would be put at risk as any plans Chisaki may have secretly overheard during his captivity and that he could've told us about would be immediately scrapped by the League, and possible locations - abandoned, thus leaving us back at square one. Also… I know that it may seem that we do not care about Kai Chisaki's well-being given his… history, but even we are not cruel enough to subject a tortured and raped man to public scorn. His mental health and well-being is still a high priority for us, as heroes."

"Not high enough to keep those fuckers from hounding him." Bakugo snarled, finally ripping his attention away from his hands, eyes blazing with crimson fire. "It was them who set him off today. That fucking detective and bird bitch hero. If they had just left him alone we wouldn't be having this conversation! He wasn't ready! He was fucking humiliated and you let them talk to him when he was just starting to pick up pieces of himself! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"We had no choice, Bakugo." Aizawa stated, his tone clipped and sharp, onyx gaze briefly flashing red. "Would you have preferred it if we had handed him over to the Commission instead? Because that was the deal we were presented with. Either we allowed the HPSC to work with the detectives on this case, or they took full custody of Chisaki and secured him in their own safe houses. Can you imagine the methods they would've used to extract the information they needed if that happened? Because I can guarantee you they would not have been as kind to him as we have been. At least this way we could make sure that no harm would come to Chisaki during questioning."

Yaoyorozu shot him a startled look at those words, her dark eyes wide.

"You are not implying… they would've extracted answers under duress? That's illegal."

The other students nodded in support of her words, their faces frozen in various degrees of shock as they turned to face their teacher, filled with disbelief. Aizawa withheld another sigh.

How naive they still were.

"Obviously, I can't say anything with utmost certainty without hard evidence." He said at last, fingers clenching into tight fists of anger in the safety of his pockets. "That would be considered slander. However, I have a strong belief that the HPSC are not our friends and that they will do whatever they consider to be necessary to fulfill their jobs. Including torturing an already hurt and broken man if it meant stopping what could possibly become a country-wide threat. If not a global one."

For a long moment there was silence, his students sharing concerned and disturbed looks as they absorbed the information. Then Kirishima looked up, his face void of its usual easy grin, brows knitted in worry.

"They won't take him away after this, right? The HPSC? I mean… yeah, he hurt Eri and all and deserved to be imprisoned, but being… tortured… raped…" Kirishima seemed to choke on the word, face taking on a greenish hue, "he doesn't deserve that. What the League did… It's…" The boy broke off, shaking his head, a shocked, dazed look overtaking his gaze. "It's just not manly, okay? It's cruel. And to think the Commission would hurt him even more, even though he's already suicidal… It's… it's sick is what it is! We're supposed to be heroes! Not… not villains."

The other kids nodded again, all of them looking nauseous. Uraraka was softly crying, her face hidden in her hands, shoulders shaking with the force of her silent sobs. Jiro placed a gentle, steadying hand on her arm, eyebrows knitted in concern. On her other side Tsuyu sat hunched over, her intelligent green eyes fixed unblinkingly on the opposite wall, but not truly seeing it.

"They may use this as a pretext, ribbit." She said at last, gaze downcast. "For finally taking him away. They can say that UA is not suited to keep Chisaki in their custody any longer if they allowed this to happen. This would be the ideal way for them to take over."

Midoriya and Bakugo's eyes snapped toward him, wide with fear. Aizawa shook his head.

"Nezu won't allow that to come to pass." He soothed them, voice firm. Certain. "Trust me, we will find a legal way to keep Chisaki with us at UA, where he'll be safe and will be allowed to heal and recover. We will not let him slip through our fingers. Not like three years ago."

"Meanwhile the rest of you should go get some sleep. Recovery Girl will let us know about Chisaki's condition in the morning, and, based on his medical prognosis, we'll figure out where we'll be going from there."

"No." Surprisingly it was Todoroki who spoke this time, his voice quiet and even, heterochromic eyes flashing in Midoriya and Bakugo's direction. By far the only sign of the boy's concern. "No, none of us are going to sleep tonight. We'll wait."

One look at Shoto's eyes was enough to convince Aizawa not to argue. There was no point. He recognized the determination burning within them. He'd seen it before, and knew that once the boy had set his mind - he would not be deterred. Especially when it came to his friends.

A small smile danced at the corner of his lips.

"Very well then," he said, and there was genuine affection in his voice this time around, if only a sliver of it. "But you best be ready for a long night then. Yaoyorozu. Fetch some cups, make hot chocolate for everyone. Sato can help you. I'd recommend against coffee. All of you are far too anxious as it is. The rest of you, stay here, don't go wandering around the school at night. I'll be back as soon as there's news about Chisaki."

And with that, he left the now silent dorms, temporarily abandoning the kids to spend the night in worried anticipation of the uncertain future.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Prison was such a noisy place.

There never seemed to be a single moment of peace behind these towering walls. No rest, or relief. There was always some sort of noise filtering through the dusty, stale air, irritating the ear. Yelling inmates, guards, the brief, distant sounds of the outside world… The Hassaikai was far from silent, but it had certainly been quieter than this.

Kai had always hated noise. Hari remembered he did, even years past. Even as a child he had stayed away from large groups, easily annoyed by the loud voices and oftentimes meaningless conversations. What point was there to speaking if you weren't saying anything meaningful? He had always disliked yelling and chaos, preferring quiet and order. And Hari loved that about him. Respected him for having more self-control and sense of dignity than most people surrounding them. Even at a young age.

Kai had always been above others…

Hari shook that thought away almost immediately, his heart clenching painfully within his chest at the memory of golden eyes, a deep, even voice reverberating in a chuckle that only he knew so well, that no one else had ever heard besides him. Except maybe for Pops.

He couldn't think of him. Not now, and not ever. It still hurt too much. His failure still hurt too much. Would probably never stop hurting, in fact… until the day he died. 

It was his fault Kai was dead. His fault that those… those filthy, unworthy animals had taken him away from them. It was his inability to fulfill his duty, to protect Kai, to watch his back that had landed them in this situation, with the Hassaikai - destroyed, their dreams - ruined, and Chisaki - killed by a group of childish wannabes.

He should've done something. Should've warned Kai. Should've seen the danger of making a deal with Shigaraki, of inviting the League's people into their home. Kai was a brilliant man, a good strategist, no one was denying that. But he had his weak points too. He was never too good at reading people, not like Hari was. Such mortal flaws as emotions are beneath higher beings, and Kai was all but a God in human form. Feelings were alien to him, distant, a mystery he never deemed worthy of exploring because it was a burden he was reluctant to allow himself to be dragged down by. So Hari bore it for him. Watched the men surrounding them, informed Kai of any deception or disloyalty. But after Nemoto had joined their ranks… Hari could admit he'd become sloppy at the job. Stopped becoming so paranoid, so watchful. After all, if you could drag the entire truth out of a person within seconds, with a single well-worded question, there was really no need for watchfullness or caution, was there?

And that had been his mistake. He'd taken those two psychos at their word, trusted Nemoto's quirk implicitly and ignored the uncomfortable feeling of suspicion and dread squirming in his gut. They all had, in fact, but it was his responsibility, his fault and his fault alone that he did not act on it. That he willfully refused to detect the poison within their arrogant words, dismissed their threats as childish tantrums.

It was his fault that Kai was dead.

Hari still remembered the day he had learned of his leader's and childhood friend's abduction with terrifying, crystal clarity. Could recall the day his world had crashed and burned around him in perfect detail, as if it had only happened yesterday, his heart breaking just a little more every time he did so. He'd still been in a hospital back then, his hands handcuffed to the metal bars on either side of his gurney and his clock strands messily clipped into uneven chunks of hardened hair. They'd turned on the TV in his ward at some point, though he couldn't remember exactly when they'd done it. What he did remember, however, was the way his attention had instantly snapped towards the screen when Kai's name was uttered by a reporter. How his heart had sunk within his chest as total wreckage met his horrified eyes as he watched the media swarm the site of the crash. How his stomach had clenched with nausea at the sight of blood splattering the highway, staining the slab Chisaki had been tied to just a few short hours ago. 

Only one thought had flashed through his mind then. One that had horrified him so much that he had suddenly leaned over the side of the bed, bile pouring past his lips and mixing with tears as his heart monitor screeched in annoying, high-pitched tones, summoning nurses and heroes alike to his room.

Kai was gone… and it was all his fault.

The door to his solitary cell slid open with an unpleasant screech of rusty hinges, but he didn't look up, didn't make a sound even as rough hands grasped him rudely by the arms and hauled him upright, dragging his unresisting body out into the dark, depressing corridor beyond.

"Hari Kurono? Some people are here to see you."

He didn't bother deigning that with a response, didn't try asking where they were taking him, or who he was supposed to speak with now. He could hazard a guess it was someone he didn't know, someone important enough for the guards to risk taking him out of solitary, knowing all too well that the last time they'd done so he'd had a crude blade plunged into his gut and voices whisper in his ears, mockingly telling him to say hello to all the other filthy child abusers in hell. He wished that that stab wound had killed him. It would've been a proper send-off for a failure like him, a right-hand man who'd failed to watch his boss's back when it had mattered the most.

It would be hilarious... If it weren't so crushing.

There were two people sitting at the table in the interrogation room when they entered. Hari didn't protest as he was rudely shoved into a seat in front of them, his cuffed hands lifted and chained in front of him, the cold surface of the furniture making goosebumps rise on his skin. That was mildly surprising. After years of spending time in the cold with very little heating he supposed he should've gotten used to the constant chill by now. But that was currently neither here nor there, his hollow blue eyes flickering to the pair of strangers seated before him.

They were police officers. Detectives, to be more precise. It wasn't difficult to tell what with the way they held themselves and the quality of their suits. Nothing too expensive, but not cheap either. Drably. Professional, but not in the obnoxious sort of way Commission agents often favored. Bordering on casual.

Kai had used to dress better.

"Hari Kurono? I am detective Tsukauchi from the Musutafu Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the League of Villains and the full extent of your involvement with them."

Concise and to the point, he had to give the man some credit. He didn't waste time beating around the bush. Even so, Hari was unable to push down the bitterness that immediately welled within his chest at those words, the corners of his mouth angling downwards in annoyance. 

"I told the HPSC agents that I had nothing to say to them." He said, his voice as cold as ice. "My answer hasn't changed." Hari may have failed at everything else… but at least he would never divulge Kai's operations. That information would die with him.

If he didn't know better he'd say the detective almost smiled at the retort. Almost.

"That's why I didn't come here to simply ask questions, Mr. Kurono." Tsukauchi said, retrieving a file and placing it in front of him, fingers stapling together upon it. "I've come here to make a deal."

Hari's lips curled in a derisive sneer.

"Deal? What sort of deal? What are you going to do... bribe me? You know as well as I do that my sentence won't be shortened, and even if it were - I have nothing to go back to. The organization I was part of was destroyed. I have no living family for you to use as leverage against me. No relatives. The most you can do besides straight up violence is threaten to remove me from solitary and put me at the mercy of the other inmates again. If that's indeed the case you should just go ahead and get it over with. I'm done talking to you."

"Let's not be too hasty or jump to conclusions, Mr. Kurono." Tsukauchi said, his voice calm and even. "I'm not here to threaten you. In fact, I'm here to do the exact opposite. I'm here to offer you what you want the most."

Had Hari still been able to cross his arms, he certainly would have. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from leaning back in his seat, eyebrows quirking in what could almost be called amusement. "Really? And what is it that I want the most? Enlighten me."

A small smile flitted briefly over the detective's handsome face.

"Kai Chisaki is still alive, Mr. Kurono."

Hari's reaction was almost immediate.

A deafening clang echoed across the room as he suddenly leapt to his feet, the chair he'd been sitting on crashing to the ground and guards leaping forward, ready to restrain him. Blue eyes blazed with fury as Hari loomed over the arrogant detective, fingers digging into the metal table with enough strength to dent it, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Tsukauchi merely signaled the guards to back off. 

"How dare you?!" Hari hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "How fucking dare you?!"

Tsukauchi, to his credit, didn't even flinch. Impassive, he merely stared up at the former yakuza luitenant towering over him, his face void of any emotion, but eyes glinting with the first notes of triumph. 

"Your boss is still alive, Chronostasis." He said, ignoring the way Hari's teeth grit at the sound of his old villain name. "And if you agree to my terms - I will agree to take you to him."

Chapter Text

Kurogiri warped them to a location outside Musutafu this time.

A small, abandoned looking house, it stood out in the middle of nowhere, far outside of the main roads. He could easily see why the League would choose this as yet another hideout. It was remote, well hidden, and inconspicuous enough to not draw much attention to itself. Just another forgotten wreck littering the countryside. Just another relic of the past.

His insides clenched with dread just looking at it.

The leash around his new muzzle clinked softly as Dabi pulled on it, and Chisaki took a few stumbling steps forward, fighting to keep his balance. The uneven ground squelched wetly beneath his bare feet, as if mockingly reminding him of all the dirt he was currently walking on, and the man fought to keep the tears of disgust and revulsion at bay, forcefully biting his tongue as hives bloomed across every inch of his skin at the thought of all the germs and bacteria no doubt festering in the damp soil, the former yakuza desperately longing for the soothing comfort of shoes.

Not that he'd ever experience that luxury ever again.

"C'mon, Princess. We don't have all day for you to admire the scenery." A familiar mocking voice cut through the haze of disgust and anxiety like a laser, dragging his attention back to his tormentors, golden eyes briefly meeting turquoise. Dabi was smirking at him where he stood a few yards ahead, the other League members not sparing the two of them even a single glance as they headed towards the dilapidated building standing slanted in the distance, clearly eager to seek shelter there. Kai couldn't say he blamed them, or didn't understand their urgency. Judging by the dark clouds swirling overhead - it was going to rain soon. Badly at that. A storm was most certainly heading their way. Even Kai could feel it in the chilly air, could practically smell it coming in the telltale nauseating stench of wet dirt and rainworms. He didn't want to be outside when it finally broke out. That's for sure. "Hurry your ass up."

His head dipping in a quick, shallow nod, Chisaki hastened to follow his captors toward the abandoned-looking house, feeling eager to get inside as soon as possible himself. The wind was steadily picking up, chilling him to the very bone, Sonar's coat doing little to provide him with sufficient warmth. He couldn't say he blamed it, however. After all, it wasn't meant for cold weather in the first place, quite the opposite in fact, but he supposed it was still better than nothing. The League could've made him walk completely naked through this uneven terrain instead, and that would've been a far more horrible alternative. If that had indeed been the case, Kai had no doubts in his mind that he would've ended up getting sick, if he hadn't managed to pick something up already that is. Although… given his situation… perhaps that would be the better outcome after all…

He doubted the League would waste their time and resources on nursing him back to health. Perhaps that was his best possible way out…

"The reports certainly weren't lying," Compress complained as a particularly strong gust of wind nearly blew him sideways, the man stumbling a few steps before quickly regaining his balance, arm reaching out and catching his hat before it could be blown clean off and whisked away. "Looks like we're in for a bad storm."

"That's great news! That's terrible!" Twice exclaimed from his place flanking the group, the masked man shivering uncontrollably as he walked. "I love rain! I hate it!"

"All the more reason for us to get inside." Shigaraki rasped from up ahead, his unpleasant, scratchy voice sounding almost like a wheeze in the cold, windy air, irritating the ear. Oh, how Kai loathed that voice… wished he could silence it forever… "Now shut up, the both of you. I'm not in the mood for your idiotic babbling."

"If it weren't for a certain someone we wouldn't be out in the middle of nowhere like this right now." Toga groused bitterly, the corners of her lips dipping downwards in a displeased grimace, the girl burying her face into the folds of her old coat and shooting Kai a decidedly dirty look over her shoulder, promising future pain. Chisaki couldn't stop the terrified whimper that wrung itself past his lips at the sight if he tried, his recent bite marks aching and pulsing with phantom agony. "If it weren't for pretty boy over there we would've been at our nice warm hideout right about now. But he just had to go and wander off, didn't he? Hoping his worthless hide would be picked up by some hero… as if anyone would ever bother with trash like him." The spiteful laugh that left her lips was echoed by a few members of the League, the raucous, scathing sound making Chisaki flinch, his gaze instantly dropping to the muddy ground beneath them, insides squirming with shame.

Indeed… she was right. How could he have been so incredibly naive and foolish? How could he have actually believed that he was worth saving?

"Lay off him, Toga." Dabi sighed, a lazy yawn pervading his vocals as he turned to glance at his fellow League member, the burnt man unable or unwilling to stop himself from theatrically rolling his eyes. "I promised you I'd punish him, didn't I? And haven't you had your own fun with him over the past few months? Don't tell me that even after all that you're still pissy."

The girl turned away from them with a huff, clearly at a loss of a satisfying retort, and instead chose to storm after Shigaraki and the rest of the crew with sharp, exaggerated movements, clearly still adamant on somehow showing her displeasure. Despite himself, Chisaki had to wonder how someone so sadistic could still act so juvenile. But then again... hadn't he been strutting around so arrogantly himself just a year ago? "Yeah, well I'd just watch him better the next time he decides to go on a little stroll. Cuz I don't think Shigs will let ya keep your little toy any longer if that happens again. And neither will I."

"Tch. Child." Dabi scoffed as he watched the teen grumpily stalk off, scarred hands shoving themselves deep into his pant pockets, blue eyes narrowed. When he turned to face him, Kai immediately met his gaze, knowing how much the villain hated it when he thought he wasn't being listened to and reluctant to subject himself to yet another beating. "See what you've done, Kai? How much you've upset everyone? Now you understand why I have to punish you, don't you? Oh, shhh now," he softly shushed him, hands reaching out and gently carding through his matted hair as a frightened sound left Chisaki's throat against his wishes, golden eyes flashing almost timidly to his tormentor. "It's all right. You'll know next time not to misbehave, won't you? Yeah, you'll be such a good boy for us from now on, Princess."

At long last they came to a stop before the building. Shigaraki headed in first without a moment's hesitation, closely followed by Spinner and Compress. Dabi held Chisaki back until everyone else was inside, and the yakuza didn't even try and fight the villain's hold despite being desperate to get in as quickly as possible himself, the biting cold becoming almost unbearable, his feet feeling numb where they still stood upon the bare soil. However, Dabi didn't enter the house even as the last person vanished within the dark depths of the building, instead leading him around the squalid-looking house and towards the small yard and back entrance, the dirt and mud squelching unpleasantly beneath their feet.

A faint, icy sense of trepidation sinking into the pit of his stomach, Chisaki reluctantly followed him, the weight of the muzzle and the chain attached to it unpleasant and suffocating upon his face, a far cry from the soothing comfort and sense of protection his mask had once offered. He wished with all his heart that he could rip it off. Wished he still had the power to destroy it. Longed to be able to breathe easily again. Even if it meant breathing in the same tainted air teeming with disease as everyone else, Chisaki just longed to be free.

But he would never be free again. And, he supposed... it was time he came to terms with that.

When they finally came to a halt before the back door, he shot the burnt villain beside him a furtive look, confusion and dread swirling in a large, confusing mass within his chest as Dabi suddenly knelt down, examining a short wooden pole jutting out from the damp ground. Almost as if he were studying it. Gauging its strength. "Aren't we… going to go inside?" He ventured cautiously, voice tentative and more feeble than he'd like to admit, weak from disuse.

Dabi shot him an amused look.

"I am," he said, a nasty smirk playing at the corner of his lips and the feeling of dread only worsened, Kai's breath hitching against his wishes within his thickening throat. "You're not."

Horror crashing down upon him like a tidal wave, for a moment Chisaki just stared at the villain in shock and disbelief, unable to believe, or even comprehend what he had just heard, his golden eyes impossibly wide. And not a split second later he was frantically pulling on the leash, trying desperately to escape Dabi's grasp, blind terror slamming into him with all the force of a freight train. 

No, Dabi couldn't mean… That was insane! Even for Dabi! To sit out in the rain… in the cold… in the dark… feeling filthy water pour down on him from above and hear ear-splitting thunder right overhead without the comforting protection of walls to separate him from the storm outside… No, no, no!

"Ah, ah, ah," Dabi purred, easily grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and manhandling him to sit crouched by the wall as he tried to back away, swiftly chaining him to the short pole before he could get much farther. "You're not going anywhere, Princess. I told you I'd have to punish you, didn't I? And since beatings clearly didn't instill the message, I'm forced to come up with other, more creative methods of teaching you a lesson."

"D-Dabi please," Kai begged him, his voice weak and trembling, face impossibly pale. "Don't do this… I'm sorry, I'll be good, I'll be so good, just please—"

A soft hand gently cupped his face, cold staples pressing uncomfortably against the underside of his jaw, and a calloused thumb swiped in a feather light arch against his cheek, wiping away his tears as a soothing croon reverberated through Dabi's chest. "Shhhh, I know you will, Kai. But a lesson has to be taught here, hasn't it? I can't just let you go unpunished. But don't worry: you won't be out for too long. Just long enough for the message to fully sink in, hm?"

Strangled, stifled sobs left Chisaki's trembling lips as he struggled fruitlessly against the chain keeping him trapped, and Dabi cheerfully patted him on the shoulder before heading inside without so much as a second glance at his distressed captive, leaving him behind, trapped, out in dangerous weather.

The first drops of rain against his skin made Kai flinch. The growing wind made him whimper. And when the first crack of thunder sounded in the pitch black heavens above him he lurched away and pressed against the wall behind him in blind fright, a terrified cry leaving his lips as a torrent of water suddenly cascaded at him from above, soaking him from head to toe in filthy downpours.

He didn't know how long he sat out there, in the storm. Didn't know when the cold had fully sunk into his very bones, or when he had started shivering uncontrollably, the hero's coat a heavy weight around his shoulders. All he knew was that he was suffocating, water trapping him on all sides, leaving him no place to run. No place to hide. It splashed beneath his feet. Poured down at him from above. It assaulted him from the sides as strong gusts of wind periodically wracked his form, soaking him in overwhelming filth. Ear-splitting thunder cracked overhead, lightning briefly illuminating the pitch black darkness surrounding him, making him flinch and cry out every time, the man frantically pressing himself against the wall behind him, as if in some desperate search for shelter.

But there was none to be found.

And yet after a while… it didn't become so bad. The cold gradually left his body, replaced by a bizarre, soothing warmth. The ear-shattering noise of thunder cracking overhead became almost quiet, distant, no longer a sound that evoked mind-numbing terror, but instead a soothing melody that he thought he'd heard a long time ago. Maybe even before Pops had taken him in. Back when Chisaki had still been at his first home, gentle, feminine hands holding him cradled against a warm chest, a woman's voice crooning a soothing song, softly lulling him to sleep. Listening to it again now… he felt so at peace... So drowsy, his eyelids feeling heavy and slowly drifting closed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he must be freezing to death. It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain what was happening and yet he didn't even try to fight it. What reason was there to do so? He felt more comfortable than he had in a year, pain all but a distant memory. Golden eyes, so similar to his own, were flashing across his vision, along with dim shapes and blurry images of rooms, so different from the Hassaikai base. Smaller, more homely — an apartment, he realized. One he had spent the first five years of his life in. Before… 

"Well, if you've got no place to go you can come with me, kid… What's your name? Can you speak?"

Pops' voice had been so different from theirs... that he remembered clearly. Rougher, but gentle in its own unique way. Radiating protection and security. Something his parents never had. Something they had never truly given him. Somehow Kai had found it more comforting than anything else in his short life, even the lullabies he'd used to listen to as an infant. He supposed that at the time it could be because those earliest memories were tainted, poisoned with disease and bloodshed. Or perhaps because Pops was so, so different from them.

When exactly had they stopped loving him?.. Had they even ever loved him in the first place? Before… before they had found out he was diseased? Just like everyone else?..

Pops had never judged him for it though, not like they had. But by that time Kai had known better than to believe the man cared for him unconditionally. There was always a condition to love, after all. His parents had taught him as much. Perhaps the only good thing they ever did for him. Opened his eyes to reality before he could fall for its sweet illusions. And he didn't want to end up on the streets again… didn't want to be kicked out of his new home. He'd seen what happened to people who failed Pops, and he didn't want to be another disappointment, unworthy of keeping around.

He couldn't stand the thought of being abandoned a second time…

But Pops had never wanted his help. Refused to hear his ideas on how to save the Hassaikai, save their family. And every time he did so, Chisaki's paranoia only grew, the repeated rejection making the dark voices whisper in his mind more clearly, telling him that he wasn't wanted, that he was useless, that there was nothing he could do, or pay with for all the love and support Pops had shown him. That one day the man would wake up and realize what a disease Kai really was. Understand that there was no point in keeping him around… All of which had finally sent him over the edge. 

And now... Pops was stuck in an endless coma he would never wake from. Possibly dead. And very soon… Chisaki was going to be joining him.

He was only dimly aware of the back door slamming open. Barely felt the strong arms wrap around his body, lifting him from the sopping, wet ground. Almost didn't hear the curses leaving Dabi's lips, the villain's voice sounding unusually distant and muffled, as if coming from deep beneath water, almost like the rain itself were acting as a barrier between them. Between the living and the dead.

"Don't you dare die on me, Princess." Dabi was saying, but his words were almost indecipherable, bordering on inaudible in the raging thunderstorm. "I'm not done with you yet."

But Chisaki didn't hear, or even care what the scarred villain said next. Blackness was rising up to meet him and he fell willingly into its warm embrace, all too happy to leave this torment, this hell that he now called an existence…

Even if for a little while...

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The steady beeping of a heart monitor broke the silence of the tiny room, seeming oddly deafening in the otherwise empty space.

Surgery had ended over an hour ago, and Chisaki now lay motionless upon his medical bed, skin appearing almost pastel white in the moonlight steadily filtering through the uncovered window. Heavy bandages wound around one of the man's wrists, secured with clips, and the sheets beneath him were clean and soft, no longer stained in crimson. But those were far from the only new additions the yakuza sported…

Mirio's gaze flickered to the strands of cloth securely tying Chisaki's hands to the sides of his gurney, gently restraining him, preventing him from trying suicide again by possibly pulling out his stitches when he finally woke. He couldn't imagine the man would be too happy when he regained consciousness and found himself tied down. Worried that the bonds, no matter how soft and least invasive, would only exacerbate his condition and make it even worse than it was before, but… Recovery Girl had assured him it would only be a temporary measure. Until… Until Chisaki was more mentally stable.

She had hated the idea of tying him down too… but until they knew Chisaki would not be a threat either to himself or others upon regaining consciousness, they couldn't avoid taking such unfortunately necessary precautions… Not with his history.

"How is he?" 

Aizawa's voice broke the silence that had long since fallen upon the hospital ward in the wake of the lengthy surgery, soft and barely audible. Mirio couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn't force himself to pay much attention, the hero unusually numb, incapable of thought or feeling, staring blankly at the injured man now lying still and motionless before him, watching the thin chest rise and fall in shallow, uneven breaths.

A soft sigh left Recovery Girl's lips.

"I've done everything I can. Fortunately the cut was clean and easily repairable, but he's still lost a lot of blood. There will be some long-term consequences, I'm afraid. He's likely to suffer from anemia for a while, and he will need bed rest. A lot of it. We'll have to put all plans of physical therapy on hold while he recovers from this. I would've used my quirk on him to speed up the process, but he's so weak already that sapping any more of his energy would most certainly kill him. And…" She seemed to hesitate then, her eyes briefly flickering to Chisaki's supine form.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed.

"And what?"

"I'm worried about his heart." The woman said at last, her voice a heavy sigh. "His heartbeat is arrhythmic and has been for a while now. It could be temporary, given the recent… events... but it could also be a symptom of something worse… I'll have to do more tests before giving a diagnosis, but… There's just so much stress a heart can take before it starts to weaken and give out, and I'm worried that Kai Chisaki may have crossed that threshold a long time ago. It could be anything, I'm hoping that it's a temporary condition, worst case scenario - broken heart syndrome. But if it's something even more serious…"

"Is he dying?"

The quiet, hushed voice broke the two heroes out of their troubled rumination, dragging their attention back to the young man still sitting slumped in a chair next to Chisaki's bed.

Mirio's face was oddly blank as he faced them, the hero still visibly in a state of shock. 

A look of deep sorrow and pain flickered over the nurse's face.

"No. No, nothing like that, dearie." She quickly assured him, voice soft and gentle. "He's stable. He's not in any danger."

"You said he might develop heart problems." Mirio frowned, shooting her a long look. "What does that mean for him exactly?"

"It just means we'll have to be a little more watchful around him. There's a high chance this is just a temporary irregularity, but even if it's not — he'll be fine. The right medicine, care and bed rest, he'll be right as rain. It's just something to keep an eye on. That's all."

Mirio swallowed heavily.

"He tried to kill himself."

A shadow passed over the woman's face. "We know."

"Why?"

"Chisaki was held captive by the League." It was Aizawa who answered him this time, voice equally quiet. "They tortured him. There were signs of sexual assault. We only recently recovered him. He was in critical condition when he was found and for the past four months we've been keeping him here at UA, thinking it's the safest place for him to stay while he heals. Hoping that he'll tell us what he knows about Shigaraki’s plans."

Mirio rubbed his sweaty palms together, fingers lacing, every line of his posture tense. "Izuku was helping him… wasn't he? That's why he's been avoiding Eri and me."

Aizawa remained impassive, the look in his eyes steady. Giving nothing away except the cold confirmation of what he already knew. "Yes."

Mirio's eyes fell to the polished floor, the overwhelming feeling of hurt that he'd been keeping suppressed up to this point welling up with newfound strength. Choking him in a vice-like grip. "He didn't trust me to know."

A heavy sigh left Aizawa's lips at those words. "You'll have to ask him that. You have to understand, I can't speak for Midoriya and his decisions, Toogata… However, I can say with utmost certainty that he had his reasons. And he did not at all mean to hurt you."

The chair screeched unpleasantly as Mirio suddenly rose to his feet, the young hero swaying slightly and grabbing for the back of his chair, before quickly regaining his balance, the man seemingly lost in a daze. "I have to go."

Recovery Girl stepped forward as he stumbled towards the door, almost as if in an effort to stop him, her expression one of worry. 

"Perhaps you should sit down again, dear." She said, her voice impossibly kind and gentle. "I could—"

But Mirio merely waved her off before she could continue, a forced, shaky smile spreading across his face, though now it resembled a grimace more than it did anything else, the man seeming to be suddenly incapable of summoning his usual, bright grin.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He said, trying his best to sound cheerful, but his voice cracked traitorously at the end of the sentence, throat flexing in a heavy swallow, forcibly pushing down emotion. The last thing the other two heroes needed was to be distracted with Mirio's emotional turmoil. "I just need some air, I'll be right back, no problem." He shot the two a thumbs up, his blue gaze briefly flickering to Chisaki's still form one last time. "Take care of him. He needs it more than I do."

However, he could tell they didn't believe him. Knew that his mask was cracking. If it hadn't already. But he couldn't help it if he tried. Knew that it would only be a matter of time before it completely fell apart. Shattered into little pieces he would never be able to pick up. And knew that he had to get out of here. Before… before he lost control completely.

Mirio didn't know how he eventually ended up in the training grounds. He'd just started walking and his feet brought him here of their own volition. He supposed it was because this was the only place he could truly count on being empty at this time of night, with no cameras around to watch him. With the constant destruction and reconstruction of this particular area it was simply too expensive for Nezu to keep reinstalling security measures, not to mention impractical. So at least here… he could count on being completely alone. Could let the mask finally fall.

The wall beside him cracked as something slammed into it and he only belatedly realized that he'd punched it, blue eyes blinking almost owlishly at the spiderweb cracks now framing his fist, spanning across the previously pristine wall. Never in his life had Mirio struck something out of anger, the boy always able to hide his emotions behind a positive attitude, forcing himself to keep laughing and smiling… even when all he really wanted to do was cry.

After all, without joy and laughter to balance the sorrow… this world could not hope to have a bright future…

But it was so hard to keep smiling. So overwhelmingly difficult to keep laughing when he could still feel Chisaki writhing underneath his hold. When he could still see the man's phantom blood staining his fingers, sticking stubbornly to his skin, making him feel like he'd never be able to wash it out. So hard to feel cheerful when he could still hear the yakuza screaming and begging for death to be delivered to him, sounding so broken… so utterly drained of hope.

He hadn't believed Izuku at first when the boy had quite literally slammed into him in the shadowed corridor, looking ghostly pale and shaking. Had barely understood what he was babbling about, the youth's voice high-pitched and trembling uncontrollably as he stumbled over his own words, Deku's classmates peeking worriedly over Mirio's shoulders, frowning at how hysterical their classmate appeared and sounded. But he had understood the basics: that someone was in trouble, that someone had cut themselves, and Izuku thought they were going to die. So, naturally, he had immediately followed him back to Recovery Girl's office and into the hidden ward he never knew existed… and when he saw someone writhing beneath Bakugo's hold, the blond boy's fingers wrapped tightly around a wrist soaked in blood— he had launched himself forward without a second thought, replacing the other hero upon the bed, his palm pressing against the pulsing, bleeding wound.

When he'd recognized the man thrashing beneath him, Mirio had wanted to be angry. Had wanted to pretend that what he was seeing was fake, that the pain and sorrow he glimpsed within those golden eyes was an elaborate act, wasn't real. Wanted to believe that Chisaki wasn't radiating genuine hurt and self-loathing, but instead hiding maliciousness and murderous intent behind an elaborate facade. Just like he had three years ago. But no matter how hard he tried - he couldn't. Even when Chisaki had started yelling about Eri and Nighteye, evoking fury - Mirio couldn't convince himself that what he was seeing was not a person in deep pain, wishing to put an end to his suffering and falling to the most desperate of methods to do so. Was directly faced with the full magnitude of Chisaki's trauma, with no opportunity to shield himself from it. No chance of numbing himself to the raw agony so openly presented to him. No chance of pretending that this wasn't their reality.

Chisaki's voice had been alight with anger, yes, but the look in his eyes had been anything but. Beneath all the projected rage, Mirio had glimpsed the despair within that piercing gaze, the desperation, the fervent wish for release, for death. Even as his own anger got the best of him and he grasped the yakuza's wrist in a bruising, crushing grip, the hero could see what Chisaki was trying to do. Realized that he was trying to provoke them into killing him. To stop them from… from saving him. And not even the best of actors could ever fake desperation like that…

The truth of the matter was… Chisaki wanted to die.

And yet all Mirio could see when he looked at him was Sir Nighteye. Even as he sat at the yakuza's bedside, staring at those loathed features that had haunted his nightmares for so long, knowing that this man had just tried to end his life, all he could see was a different room, a different person lying on the same gurney, half shrouded in darkness with tubes sticking out of the hole where his stomach had used to be. All he could feel was the hand of the man who had become his mentor on his cheek, those dying eyes he knew so well peering up at him from the blackness surrounding them and flashing purple as 'Foresight' was activated for the very last time. All he could hear was his teacher's dying words, telling him he would become one of the best heroes the world had ever seen… using his last breaths to give him guidance even though he had done so much for Mirio already, gifted him with the greatest gift a kid like him aspiring to be a hero even with a difficult quirk dragging him down could ever ask for - the hope of one day saving a million people.

And Chisaki had almost ripped that hope away from him. Had nearly crushed it to dust beneath his heel with one fell swoop by erasing his quirk and then murdering the first pro hero who had truly believed in him, the man Mirio almost considered a second father. Had almost taken everything away from him, robbed him of everything he ever held dear. But, more than that, he had nearly destroyed the life of a little girl, too. An innocent soul, one that had barely gotten to experience life… and Chisaki had almost corrupted her. Crushed her beneath his ambitions like she was nothing, like Eri was an object, a bug, a means to an end. 

Like she wasn't human.

And now… the League had crushed him in the same manner he had once crushed others. Leaving him shattered and in need of someone to come save him.

It took him a while to register the burning sensation in his eyes. Even longer to feel the liquid trickling down his cheeks in faint rivulets. To realize that for the first time in these long three years - he was crying, choked sobs rising up to the surface, suppressed only through sheer force of will.

Mirio hadn't cried once since Nighteye's death… had promised himself that he would keep smiling… No matter what.

Just like his mentor had wanted.

And now… for the first time in those three years, he was crying because of the same man who had taken Nighteye away, silencing his guiding voice once and for all.

Mirio supposed there had to be some irony in that.

And as if all that wasn't enough, now he finds out that all this time Deku was keeping Chisaki's survival from him. Even though he knew that of all people… Mirio deserved to know about it the most. Deserved to know that Chisaki was still alive, that he was being kept here at UA, that all this time… he had been in the League's grasp, being tortured at their hands.

But for some reason… Deku hadn't trusted him with the truth. Had looked him straight in the eyes… and lied. Why? Had he really thought so little of Mirio? Had he thought he would take his anger out on Chisaki? On both of them? Had he thought… Mirio would hate him? They both knew all too well what that man had done to Eri. Both of them had spent enough time with her to know just how deeply Chisaki had hurt her, his words cutting deeper than his scalpel ever could, scarring her very heart and soul. Had Izuku thought he would resent him for this choice? For being a hero… to a man like Chisaki?

A hero Mirio himself could never hope to be. Not to him. Not to someone like Chisaki. Not after… after everything the other had done.

Long fingers dug ruthlessly into short, sandy hair as he slowly sank to the floor, his legs shaking too badly to continue keeping him upright, the man curling up against the wall, burying his face in his hands, as if unable to face the cruel world surrounding him.

He couldn't do this… Sitting there, at Chisaki's side, Mirio had tried to convince himself that he could. That he would be a hero to him too. Because he could see that Chisaki was in pain. Could see that he needed saving. That he wasn't the same man Mirio had known three years ago, ruthless and cold, consumed by his delusions and willing to hurt countless people in order to reach an insane goal. No. Now he was scared. He was broken. He wanted to die. 

And Mirio couldn't bring himself to save him. 

A bitter, watery laugh wrung itself past his lips, the broken sound echoing in the empty expanse of the training grounds.

Lemillion, the hero who strove to save a million people… ended up saving only one girl and refusing to save another.

What a joke.

It took him a while to notice the quiet melody of his ringtone. To feel the vibration and gentle heat of the phone in his pocket. It took him even longer to fish it out of jeans, his trembling fingers fumbling with the pass code for a few seconds before finally pressing the device against his ear, a forced, shaky smile resurfacing upon his face even though he knew there was no one there to see it. 

"Hey, Eri."

"Papa called. Said you and Deku weren't coming." The girl's voice sounded tentative and quiet, even through the receiver he could sense her worry, all but picture the concern swimming within those large, ruby eyes; the image briefly blocking out the panicked, agonized golden gaze that seemed to be permanently burned into his vision. "Is everything all right?"

The thought of telling her the truth… of hurting her, robbing her of what little sense of safety and self-worth she had regained… didn't cross Mirio's mind once.

"Yeah, um, last minute mission… came up." He said, the lie a heavy weight upon his tongue despite him knowing its necessity, insides roiling with nausea. "I don't think he'll be in town for a while. I have a few errands to run too, but I'll visit you first thing tomorrow, okay? I promise. Bring you those caramel apples with sprinkles that you love so much."

When she spoke again after a short pause her voice was a fraction warmer, just a little bit less concerned. Mirio could practically see the shaky, hesitant smile spreading across her round face, affection flooding his chest with warmth at the imagined sight.

Only now did he realize just how cold and hollow he'd felt before the call.

"Yeah… okay."

And yet the moment the screen went dark the feeling of emptiness returned. And when he finally lowered the phone and stared out at the dark void that had become of the training grounds - Mirio's heart felt heavier than ever.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

His footsteps echoed eerily in the empty halls as he strode past them, unusually loud in the otherwise empty space. The accompanying set of footfalls of the detective behind him did nothing to disguise the almost unnatural vacuum of silence surrounding him, making him shiver as he walked even though he felt no chill.

Hari didn't know where exactly Tsukauchi was leading him. He supposed such details mattered little if the end goal remained the same. He was positive he would not be tricked by him, that the detective would uphold his end of the deal. He'd agreed to all of Tsukauchi's terms, after all, didn't even care to check if he'd somehow slipped in a condition that Hari would later regret.

All he cared about was seeing Kai again.

There was an elderly woman waiting for them when they finally stopped in what appeared to be the nurse's office. She said nothing as she surveyed the two men, her lips drawn into a tight, thin line as her dark gaze briefly flickered over Hari's form, the former yakuza lieutenant coldly meeting her eyes, before stopping on Tsukauchi, a heavy sigh leaving her comparatively small form.

"He should be waking up soon," she said, her voice much gentler and more quiet than Hari had expected it to be, with not even a single hint of hatred, or disdain. That was… surprising. He had to admit, he had expected quite the opposite. Given the… circumstances.

The word left a bitter taste in his mouth, resentment welling within his chest despite his best efforts to remain calm.

Who were these diseased, delusional rats to judge them? Judge Kai?

"Perhaps it's better if the first thing he sees is a familiar face."

And then the adjacent door opened… and all the air suddenly left Hari's lungs.

At first he didn't recognize the weak, thin form on the lone hospital bed. At first all he could hear were voices screaming in his mind, telling him that this was a mistake, a trick, that this wasn't Kai, couldn't be Kai, that the impossibly pale, motionless body now lying before his horrified eyes was somebody else. Someone just bearing a striking resemblance to Kai. But the next he was already rushing forth, sinking to his knees beside the bed, his wide, blue eyes raking over the white scars and signs of abuse littering his leader's body, lingering especially on the heavy bandages winding tightly around one of those thin wrists, something cracking within his very soul upon seeing them.

"Oh my God, Kai."

Before he knew what he was doing, before he could even stop himself, knowing how much Kai hated it when he did this, his trembling fingers were reaching out and cupping those hollow cheeks, tears freely pooling in his eyes as he examined the face he'd used to know so well, stifled sobs threatening to rise to the surface and trying to escape his tightly clenched teeth.

He had done this. He had let this happen to him… the man he cared about most in this wretched, quirk infested world ruled by delusions and deceit. Had let this happen to the man he loved.

The long eyelashes fluttered, familiar sharp features briefly darkening in a grimace before those beautiful, golden eyes slowly cracked open, peering hazily at the form knelt before him, struggling to focus. Several emotions seemed to pass over his face in the span of a second, and when Chisaki spoke it seemed to take him several tries, his throat flexing and voice sounding impossibly weak and hoarse, so unlike the strong, confident drawl Hari had grown used to.

"Ha...ri?"

Quickly shushing him, Hari leaned forward, his heart breaking at the sight of faint tears glittering within the molten gold of Chisaki's eyes, the way Kai's expression suddenly morphed into something so vulnerable, so utterly fragile. 

"I'm here, Kai. I'm here."

"Hari."

Kai lurched forward only to be held down by the straps keeping him tied to the gurney beneath him, and Hari practically watched the unfamiliar, overwhelming panic bloom within those glistening eyes, the thin chest rising and falling with increasing speed as the man realized he was restrained, small, weak whimpers leaving his pale lips. Making his heart shatter into a million pieces at the sight.

He had never seen Kai so terrified.

"Hari."

"Untie him!" He begged, shooting his desperate gaze to the woman still standing in the doorway, his blue eyes wide and desperate. "Please!"

He did his best to soothe Kai as the nurse strode forward, swiftly undoing the straps tying his wrists to the bed, and the second he was free the man's fingers were latching onto Hari's shoulders, digging into the folds of his faded shirt with a desperation he would have never associated with his leader before this moment, a damp face pressing into the crook of his neck as the thin body trembled uncontrollably within his grasp, Hari instinctively cradling him against his chest. Gently shushing him as Kai sobbed into the worn fabric of his t-shirt's front, his own tears blurring his vision and arms wrapping tightly around the shaking form within his embrace, as if fearing it might suddenly be ripped away from him.

"I've got you, Kai." He whispered, a tremor pervading his own vocals. "And I'm never letting go."

Chapter Text

"You do realize that this is a disaster."

Nezu lifted his eyes.

The Commission President stared down at him from above, her face a perfect mask of calm, controlled fury, eyes glinting coldly in the sunlight pouring through the adjacent window. Though she was shorter than most of his staff, it was undeniable that the woman held a presence about her, making her appear larger than most despite her small stature. A useful feature, expressly designed to force those of weaker character into submission. Perfect for someone in her position.

He wondered if she possessed it naturally. If after years of control she'd still be smart enough to know when to give in, to back down before a higher authority. The outcome of their conversation depended largely on whether or not she recognized when she'd lost.

The woman's lips curled in a faint sneer, briefly marring the veneer of composure she no doubt worked so hard to maintain.

"We offered you our full cooperation in this investigation. Put our considerable resources at UA's full disposal. All but handed you Tomura Shigaraki’s arrest on a silver platter. And yet you still somehow managed to almost lose by far the only lead we've had to the League's whereabouts in the last three years. To suicide, of all things! Something that should've been easily prevented. You will have to pardon my rudeness, Principal Nezu, but I must express genuine amazement at how you could have possibly managed such a blunder."

A small, amused smile played at the corner of Nezu's lips.

The woman knew how to act, he'd give her that. She played her part of faking outrage perfectly. If he wasn't onto her and her little game, he might've fallen for it himself. But, as he wasn't, this theatrical charade now only served to amuse him. 

Pro Hero Hawks shifted uncomfortably in the corner of his eyes.

"The ward we've reserved for Kai Chisaki was not equipped with cameras, as is standard practice and with the intention of giving him privacy. Given what he's been through, we believed that it would be more humane if we did not invade his personal space more than it already has by the League. As well as put him more at ease and make him more likely to trust us. Given his background, it would've been only a matter of time before Chisaki found the hidden cameras and realized he was being watched, thus giving him even less incentive to put his faith in us, and hindering any progress we might've made with him otherwise. We had to show trust in him, in order for him to trust us."

"And one psychotic break was not enough to convince you otherwise?" The woman asked, her voice taking on a vaguely condescending tone. Aizawa tensed where he stood leaning against the wall. "We know of the incident you've had between Kai Chisaki and one of your students. You're telling me that even that was not enough to justify twenty-four hour surveillance for you?" 

Nezu's lips twitched in a tiny smile. "I did not deem it necessary."

"Do not play games with me, Nezu!" The President snapped, her hands finding purchase upon his desk as she leaned forward, her voice clipped and cold as the arctic ice. "You're avoiding my questions and we both know it. We agreed to cooperate with you. We agreed that you would retain custody of Kai Chisaki, despite the fact that he would be far more secure in our own safe houses. We put our confidence in you. And what do you have to show for it? An attempted suicide and near loss of the most important asset we've managed to procure in the last three years? Simply because you were so uncharacteristically negligent as to fail to install cameras?!"

"Well, that's rather simple." Nezu replied, his voice light and conversational, amusement glinting within the depths of his beady black eyes. "If I were not so 'uncharacteristically negligent', as you so eloquently put it, then how would I ever catch you?"

The woman's expression didn't change, but he could see the way her gaze suddenly sharpened, glimpsed the subtle tension bleeding into her falsely relaxed posture, despite her admirable efforts of concealing it. 

"What are you talking about?"

"We're talking about this." Aizawa said, his vocals a low, characteristic monotone though Nezu could hear the notes of anger and disgust pervading them, the man striding forth and carelessly tossing a phone onto Nezu's desk, pressing play.

Almost immediately Hawks' voice filled the confines of the silent office.

"... the heroes can't know I'm a traitor. And I'm here to make sure you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut about it. Because if you don't, well, I'm sure the League will be more than ecstatic to see you again, sooner than expected."

Nezu stopped the recording before it could continue further, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips though it seemed sharper now, more predatorial.

His point had been made.

The Commission President's face didn't even twitch, but he could see the now clear and genuine fury within her eyes, her gaze briefly flickering to Hawks' form. 

"You fool." She murmured.

Nezu pulled the phone towards him. Out of her reach. Not that it would have mattered much even if she tried something as foolish as destroying it. He had copies. 

"After being threatened by your operative in this manner, Kai Chisaki felt like he had no other choice, but to end his life. To spare himself even more humiliation and suffering at the League's hands." He said, his voice no longer conversational. Cold. Radiating righteous, terrifying fury. 

He did not miss the way Hawks flinched in his periphery, agony and guilt flashing within that marigold gaze.

"Had our students not been there and had we not responded as quickly as we did, we would have certainly lost him. But fortunately, our risk paid off." He paused, leveling the woman with a serious look. "I am no fool, madam President, and I am no stranger to politics. I could tell from the start that you were planning something when you approached me with that deal. We both knew that if it ever came to a legal struggle over the custody of Kai Chisaki - you would undoubtedly come out on top. You have far more strings to pull, far more authority than a hero school and police force have combined. You were in a winning position, and yet you came up with a compromise that seemed, ah, far too reasonable for you. If you'll forgive me for the lack of a better description."

The woman opened her mouth to interject, but Nezu lifted his paws, silencing her, before she could do so.

"My suspicions only worsened when we were setting terms. You argued with us on the conditions in which we were to keep Chisaki, including his surveillance, that much is true. Your acting was truly admirable, I could not detect deceit. And yet I couldn't help but be struck by just how easily you backed down from our terms without arguing them further. I would've expected you to demand far more control over the situation than you did. And then you cleverly used your leniency to our stipulations to gain access to Kai Chisaki's ward for the number two hero Hawks. A man, who, as far as I know, does not specialize in interrogations. And that's when I knew something was up for certain."

"I knew that if I installed cameras you would fall to more subtle ways to eliminate, or somehow influence the threat you saw in Kai Chisaki. I would be hard pressed to gather evidence and protect him. You would not feel confident enough to send your men in so brazenly if you knew we were watching. And so, I made sure you knew of the lack of surveillance, and let the events play out as they did, placing a small recording device moments before the supposed interrogation."

"But that still doesn't make sense." The woman snarled, no longer bothering to mask her fury. "Fierce Wings should've been able to detect its heat and vibrations as easily as hidden cameras. It shouldn't have made a difference whatsoever! Unless…"

She trailed off, her shocked gaze straying to the hero standing by the window. Hawks met her eyes evenly, unflinching, his expression unreadable.

"You…"

"I wasn't going to let you make me abuse this man more than I already have." Hawks said, his voice low and serious. Cold even, with not a hint of apology, or submission in sight. "That is not what I signed up for when I agreed to let you train me to be a hero."

The woman seemed rendered speechless for a few moments and when she spoke again, her voice was impossibly soft and quiet, almost inaudible if they didn't strain to hear her. "You would risk your career, your very future… risk going down with the Commission... for a lowlife like Chisaki?"

"I would risk my career to save a person in need." Hawks corrected her, the look in his eyes as hard as stone. "I would risk it to save a broken, abused man who has already faced enough punishment for his sins. And if I were forced to choose between him and prison - I would gladly choose prison."

"This changes nothing." The woman said at last, a strange certainty and confidence returning to her voice, turning away from the winged hero and facing the school principal once more. "You're bluffing, and we both know it. Publishing this audio would be throwing the entire system into chaos, shaking the trust of the populace in heroes, and only aiding and abetting Shigaraki and his people in their nefarious plans of destroying hero society. You wouldn't put millions of people in danger for the sake of just one man - a filthy criminal at that. You wouldn't sabotage our operation of infiltrating the League. You wouldn't expose yourself for sheltering a villain, or betray your values as heroes by shamelessly resorting to blackmail."

Nezu's face seemed to darken at those words, a dangerous glimmer shining within his black eyes as he slowly leaned forward, pacing his laced paws upon the surface of his desk.

"Oh, but I would."

The woman stepped back, briefly thrown into a stupor at the sudden growl pervading the Principal's light and airy voice, Nezu glaring at her with an icy rage that was only too acutely inhuman, radiating power that shook the humans before him to their very cores. Even Aizawa could not remember seeing the man this angry. In the three years he had studied at UA and his lengthy tenure as teacher not once had he seen Nezu lose his cool. And yet here he was: glaring at the woman twice his size, making her seem small and insignificant. Like a bug beneath his paws. An arrogant, contemptible little creature that had so foolishly wandered straight into the jaws of a predator.

"I think you are forgetting that I have little regard for humans and their silly games of power and intimidation." He said, tapping the jagged scar running down his face, the sunlight eerily highlighting it as if punctuating his words. "It's amusing at most, to watch you desperately seek power like a mouse seeks cheese at the center of the maze. All the while claiming to be a superior species. The same species that gave me this scar. See, you seem to be under the false impression that I actually care what happens to you, that with the disbandment of your organization will come not only the fall of heroes, but society as a whole. Yet that couldn't be farther from the truth. Good people will always rise up to oppose evil when the situation calls for it. The students within this very school prove it every day. Society will be able to recognize right from wrong and pull itself together in a crisis. It will heal. You are not as vital to its survival as you may think. The world can and will exist without you. We can exist without this 'necessary' evil you proclaim yourself to be. We do not have to sabotage our values as heroes, as decent people, to fight villainy seeking to rend this world apart. We do not have to sacrifice Kai Chisaki's life. He is not expendable."

"Your mentality that a criminal's life is lesser than a law-abiding citizen's is exactly how villains are created. A victim has no obligation to forgive their abuser, true enough, but the system is supposed to remain impartial. As heroes, and as the government, it is not our job to punish. It is our duty to educate, to rehabilitate, to guide, like parents guide their children, to a better future. We are supposed to be better. Set an example. Not fall to the same underhanded tactics as our opponents."

"And yet you resort to blackmail." 

Nezu inclined his head, amusement glinting within the dark depths of his eyes.

"Call it education. You are not all powerful. And your behavior will not go unchecked. I will not allow you to hurt my people. Every person who enters UA is this school's responsibility and, thus, under my guardianship. You handed Chisaki's custody to us, which puts him under my wing. My protection. And I will not allow you to bring more harm upon him. Just like my students, I will defend him from those seeking to exploit, or abuse him. And so will the heroes working here."

Aizawa crossed his arms. In the back of the office, All Might and Recovery Girl, who up until now had remained silent and only listened to the exchange, nodded. Vlad King grunted his approval, not even looking up from the homework he was grading. Midnight's eyes narrowed.

Nezu leaned forward.

"Hawks will not step one foot on these premises from this day forth." He said, his voice firm, tone final, leaving no room for argument. "He will not reach out, or try to come into contact with Kai Chisaki in any way. You will not send replacement operatives to continue to intimidate and threaten this man. You will leave him in peace, to heal and recover from the trauma he had endured. You will continue to receive updates on what we learn about Shigaraki in exchange for intel that Hawks provides. If we are to work together, as you proposed in your initial deal, we will keep communication open between us. But you will never lay your hands on Kai Chisaki again. Otherwise, the audio goes public, along with any information we learn of Hawks' transgressions. You have my word on that."

"You little rat." The woman hissed, dropping all pretenses of dignity. "You are putting the entire country at risk for the sake of that pathetic yakuza trash, and you don't even realize it. You are so blinded by your ego, your so-called intelligence, your high and mighty moral values that you are willing to let this world fall apart just because you are too squeamish to get into the dirt like the rest of us. And yet when all of this predictably turns to shit - we will be the ones you blame first, because it was our job to keep the peace. This will blow up in your face and you will regret this someday, mark my words. Because all in all you are a mere animal playing human games with no true understanding of what humanity really is. And when you eventually come crawling back to me - I will remember this. And I will not be so charitable."

Nezu merely smiled in response.

"Speciesism now?" He asked lightly, laughter clearly audible in his voice, and the President grit her teeth at the clear mockery, fingers twitching as if an aborted impulse to curl into tight fists. "How unseemly. Here I was under the impression we were in civilized company. Nemuri, please escort madam President and her men off the school premises. This conversation is over."

"This way, ma'am," the woman said, striding towards the door and opening it, the look in her blue eyes cold. 

Shooting Nezu one last, dirty look, the Commission President brushed herself off, and, looking as calm and dignified as she had upon arrival, walked out of the silent office, the door sliding shut behind her.

Hawks moved to follow her, but hesitated in the doorway, his hand a heavy weight against the silver handle as he turned to glance at the school principal one last time, marigold eyes flashing once more with pain. 

"He's going to be all right then?" He asked, voice almost timid. Drenched in guilt. "He'll pull through?"

"He'll have a scar on his wrist for the rest of his life." Aizawa said coldly, without a single hint of remorse, or sympathy. "And it will take longer for him to find the courage to start healing again, if he doesn't find another way to off himself. No thanks to you. But yeah, I suppose you could say he'll pull through."

Hawks' gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders sagging as if beneath some crushing weight that they could not see, his wings seeming to droop, losing their lustrous shine. Though that could simply be the light.

"I didn't want to hurt him." He whispered, features darkening with pain. "I couldn't stop them from torturing him. I wanted to save him."

"You don't have to justify yourself to us." Vlad King growled, finally looking up from the papers clutched within his grasp, his ruby gaze falling upon the winged hero. "What's done is done. You made your decisions. And now we have to clean up the mess you made."

Hawks flinched, wings curling protectively around his body, as if in some desperate attempt to seek shelter from the biting words.

Recovery Girl looked away. All Might sighed, glancing at his colleague with quiet reproach, face lined with exhaustion. "Sekijiro… there is no need to escalate—"

"We thank you for your contribution, Mr Takami." Nezu said, his paws lacing upon the surface of his office desk. "It was brave and noble of you to take such a risk and give us the evidence we needed to keep Chisaki here, with us, at UA. Out of HPSC's grasp. However, I do not expect to see you on the school grounds for the duration of Chisaki's stay, am I clear?"

Hawks inclined his head. "Of course, sir."

As soon as the number 2 was gone, Aizawa seemed to sag where he stood, the faintest notes of relief flashing over his unshaven face and the residual tension leaving his form as he turned to glance at the UA principal, looking more tired than ever. "Laid it on a little thick with her, don't you think? That speech might've been too much, might've just pissed her off more than anything. Think it will be enough to keep her away?"

Nezu chuckled, the noise somehow bitter. "If she's smart, she will. We can only hope she still has enough sense not to do anything foolish... For Kai Chisaki's sake."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"He's sleeping now." Recovery Girl was saying, her voice soft and gentle as she stood in the office doorway, blocking their path. "He has someone with him."

"Really? Who?" Bakugo snapped at the same time Izuku blurted: "We'll only be a second!"

The nurse breathed a heavy sigh, looking as if she were almost in physical pain by having to refuse them.

"I can't let you go through." She said softly. Patiently. "You have to trust me when I tell you he's going to be all right. He's made it through the night. That was the hard part. All he needs is rest now. Some time to get his strength back. He's not ready for more visitors yet."

"Could you at least tell him we tried to see him?" Katsuki asked, voice rough and husky after a long, sleepless night, dark circles lining his eyes. "So he doesn't think we fucking abandoned him?"

The nurse seemed to hesitate for several moments, sadness flickering over her aged features. Almost as if she were reluctant to pass on the message, as if she thought that the knowledge of their visit wouldn't please Chisaki, wouldn't make him feel better, making confusion well inside Izuku at the look, but seemed to eventually relent, her head dipping in a shallow nod. 

"Of course."

The door slid shut before them and they stood for several minutes out in the empty hallway, as if unsure of what to do next. Somehow they hadn't imagined they wouldn't be permitted to see Chisaki immediately after surgery, even if it only made sense, the thought that they would actually be refused having never once crossed their minds. 

But there was no point in loitering, and their best option was to return to the dorms. After Aizawa had stopped by at around four in the morning to inform them that Chisaki was stable and would pull through, most of their class had sighed in relief and dispersed, heading back to their beds now that they were sure the villain's life was no longer in danger. In light of what happened, Nezu had cleared their schedule for the day, allowing the students of 3-A some much needed rest after a night spent in dread and worry. Iida, Uraraka and Tsuyu had tried to stay up with them, but eventually gave in to exhaustion as well, Tsuyu gently helping Uraraka wash her tear-stained face before guiding her back to her room, Ochaco's left arm thrown over her shoulders while her own wrapped around her friend's waist, supporting her as they ascended the carpeted steps. 

Only Shoto had lingered in the deserted common room, his heterochromic gaze steady as he questioned if they wanted him to accompany them to Chisaki's ward, the subtle hesitance and almost tentative nature of his words betraying him. Giving away his concern.

Both he and Izuku had fully expected Bakugo to snap at him. To tell him it wasn't any of his concern, that they were fine, that they didn't need a babysitter as they went to see the villain they'd been caring for for the last few months. That they could handle it, handle seeing Chisaki after just witnessing him trying to end his life. But only silence had followed, Katsuki abruptly standing from his spot and pulling on his jacket, one not speckled in the villain's blood, and stalking towards the door, his red eyes distant, empty,  staring straight ahead without actually seeing what lay before him. 

Worry eating away at his heart, Deku had hastily assured the youngest Todoroki that they would be fine handling this alone, before rushing after his unusually silent classmate, his emerald eyes never leaving Kacchan's form.

He'd only ever been so silent after Kamino… and even then it had only lasted a few hours and he'd never looked so empty… so utterly defeated.

The same way Izuku himself felt right now.

"Stop staring at me." Bakugo's quiet snarl broke him out of his brief, troubled rumination, smoldering scarlet eyes meeting Izuku's concerned emerald. 

Deku frowned.

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me." Bakugo snapped, though his voice lacked bite, sounding more tired than genuinely angry. "If you have something to say, fucking say it and get it over with instead of staring at me like a goddamn creep. You're pissing me off."

Izuku analyzed the response. The insults were there. The excessive profanity was there. The real fury wasn't.

Deku swallowed.

"You're quiet." He said, and quickly continued as Bakugo's mouth opened, no doubt to argue. "You're never quiet."

Katsuki looked away at that, rendered silent for a few moments, Adam's apple bobbing in a heavy swallow. 

"I just had someone almost bleed to death in my arms, Deku." He said at last, voice choked and hoarse. Almost cracking. "Someone I give a shit about. Screaming for death. I can still see his blood on my hands, feel its heat on my skin. See him struggling beneath me, trying to wrench his wrist outta my fingers. So excuse me for not being fucking chatty when I literally held someone's life in my hands a few hours ago. 'Specially when you're nursing something as well, you fucking hypocrite."

Deku's eyes dropped to the floor beneath them, the boy forcefully pushing back the tears that threatened to spill down his face, but wasn't entirely successful, vision growing blurry. 

"I froze, Kacchan." He whispered at last, voice trembling uncontrollably. "When it mattered the most I froze. Even Mr Aizawa said that if you hadn't been there to instantly apply pressure - Chisaki would've died. I would've let him die. And then… when you told me to get help… I didn't even think of going for the nurse call button to summon Recovery Girl like Mirio had, I just... I just ran. I keep making mistake after mistake, and it's always like that." His voice cracked despite his best attempts to will it not to, his inability to control even his own emotions only adding to his growing distress.

"When he first awoke, before you learned of his existence… he was suffering from dissociation. Wouldn't talk to any of us. He didn't seem like he was even truly there. And I… I thought that if I tried to comfort him… if I just showed him that we were here, and we cared, he would snap out of it… but all I did was send him into panic… make him suffer a flashback…" A shaking wrist rose to his face, feverishly rubbing at his eyes, the boy using his last bits of self-control to keep the onslaught of tears at bay. "Then when he was suffering from depression - I did nothing to truly help him. I'd spend time with him, talk to him, yeah, but I wouldn't help him. I didn't even think of giving him something to do. Of somehow finding a way to keep him distracted even when I wasn't there. And even after you put me on the right track, I still messed it up by giving him the information he needed to kill himself."

"I've been making mistakes with him every step of the way, and it nearly got him killed. What kind of hero am I if I can't help someone in pain? If I just keep hurting them instead of helping them recover? How can I be All Might’s successor? How can I be… the new symbol of peace?" 

"... Wow, you're really overthinking it, huh?"

Deku looked up. Bakugo was staring back at him, brows furrowed in a dark, disbelieving frown, ruby eyes fixed on Izuku's face with startling intensity. 

A short, mocking laugh left the blond's lips.

"God. You catch someone you give a fuck about slicing their arm open and the first thing your brain does is bluescreen. Who would've thought that could happen. Surely it hasn't happened to anyone else in the history of mankind ever. You must be the first one to care so goddamn much as to go into shock upon seeing someone you care about trying to die."

Something unpleasant stirred within Deku's gut. Something resentful. It was as if Bakugo were making up excuses to explain his failure, his blunder that had almost cost Chisaki his life, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"You never froze though."

"No. Instead I clambered onto the bed, forgot all my training, and nearly let him bleed to death because I was so goddamn emotional that I couldn't get a good enough grip on his wrist. Your point?"

The feeling worsened. 

"You got him to eat." 

Bakugo breathed a heavy, frustrated sigh, muttering something inaudible under his breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. When he finally looked up his gaze was sterner, less angry. More focused.

"Look, Deku," he began, a low growl permeating his voice despite his obvious efforts of keeping his irritation at bay. "You can't expect yourself to never make mistakes. You can't keep blaming yourself for every little thing that happens. I know it's hard for you to believe, but you're just human and you did your goddamn best to help him without any previous experience or training, all right? And guess what? It worked. You kept him alive. You are aware that if you hadn't been there, he would've tried this shit sooner, right? Recovery Girl had been waiting for him to try and off himself since he first woke up, watched him for months, long before I came into the picture. So I said some pretty words. So I found ways to get through to him. To motivate him. Just because I had the advantage of knowing what those fuckers do firsthand, if you can fucking call it that. But you kept him alive. Gave him the strength to hang on a little longer. The idea that maybe, maybe if he just waits around a little bit, it will all pay off and he will see light at the end of the tunnel. My speech wouldn't have worked on him otherwise; if some part of him already didn't desperately want to believe there was still hope left for him. You did the hard work. I just pressed the right buttons and acted upon it."

"So you made a few errors along the way. Who wouldn't have? The fucking truth is, without you, that man would've died a long time ago. And that's a fact. So stop fucking blaming yourself and overthinking every little thing, or I swear to god one of these days I will throttle you, you dumb nerd."

His throat felt thick. Tears were pouring down his face, no longer held back through sheer force of will; Izuku no longer capable of holding them at bay. A shaky smile spread across his face, his green eyes sparkling in the bright light of the morning sun, the spark that had vanished within them the day before reappearing, trembling fingers reaching up and wiping the moisture away. 

"Thank you… Kacchan."

Bakugo shot him a look of disgust and horror and Izuku couldn't stop the broken chuckle from leaving his lips, the feeble sound soon turning into full blown laughter, emotions bursting forth as if through a broken dam. He wasn't quite sure why Kacchan's genuine revulsion towards his gratitude was suddenly so amusing. He blamed it on his fragile emotional state from last night's events.

"Izuku?" A quiet voice sounded behind him before Bakugo could respond, and he turned around, the smile, weak as it was, slipping from his face as Mirio came into view, coming to a stop a few yards away.

The hero looked absolutely exhausted, dark circles lining his eyes and his usual smile void from his lips, replaced by a thin, tense line. He seemed unsure, awkward, his fingers clenching and unclenching  anxiously at his sides. Almost as if he wasn't certain that what he was about to do was the right thing. If it wouldn't be a better option to just walk away.

Something cold settled in a heavy weight in Deku's stomach.

"Could we talk?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The lukewarm water around his body felt as cold as ice. A weak, pitiful sound left his lips against his wishes as he instinctively tried to wriggle out of the hands slowly lowering him into the tub, flinching away from the liquid lapping at his unpleasantly sweaty skin, a soothing voice gently shushing him as he struggled.

"Shhhh, it's all right, Kai."

The voice sounded familiar. He knew to whom it belonged, he knew he did, and yet the name kept slipping through his fingers much like the water now enfolding him, his golden eyes cracking open and almost instantly shuttering at the nauseating mass of bright colors that assaulted his vision; making the contents of his stomach churn.

The last thing he needed was to throw up.

Gentle fingers brushed against his forehead and the familiar voice sighed above him, the speaker leaning away as he addressed someone Kai could neither hear nor see. 

"He's got a fever. He's burning up."

For some reason the seemingly innocuous statement sparked terror within him, images of an unknown room and medical tools and bitter liquid being forced down his throat while a burning heat pressed against his back flashing across his vision until he was twisting violently in the unknown grasp, water splashing everywhere, strangled, wracking sobs and pleas wringing themselves past his pale lips.

Please don't burn him, please don't burn him. He's not sick, he's not a burden, he'll be good. He doesn't need help, no, no, no!

The fingers around him tightened and suddenly he was being lifted, arms wrapping securely around his writhing form and pressing him firmly against a broad chest, a soothing croon reverberating through his blurry surroundings, even though he could hear the strained note within it.

"Kai, Kai, Kai, it's just me. It's Hari. You're all right. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe. It's all right."

But Chisaki didn't believe him. Knew better than to do so. This was a trap. It was always a trap. He was never safe. Not with the League. Not with Dabi. And now not even with the heroes.

Hawks had proven as much.

A sharp prickling sensation briefly broke him out of his panicked thoughts, his eyes fluttering open and falling upon the blurry form of the school nurse, his body gradually ceasing its frantic motions, feeling overwhelmingly heavy and sluggish. He didn't try to fight the pull of unconsciousness that suddenly came upon him. Welcomed it even. It was better than being awake, after all. Better than facing the cold, harsh reality of being alive.

When all he wanted was to die.

Hari breathed a slow sigh of relief as Kai went still within his arms once more, those hazy, golden eyes clouded with delirium finally sliding shut, and the thin, unbelievably weak body going limp in his grasp. He could feel Kai's bones pressing against him through his skin, couldn't help but be shaken by how light his boss felt cradled against his chest, the cold, physical confirmation of how much the man had suffered punching a fresh hole in his heart. Making it bleed anew.

He had done this to him...

"It's as we have feared," the woman, miss Shuzenji, as she'd insisted he refer to her, said, her voice a heavy sigh, eyes clouded in sadness, "he's got an infection. I had hoped we'd be able to prevent it, but…" She trailed off and shook her head, turning away and placing the empty syringe on the counter, leaving it to be dealt with later. "Take him back to his bed, won't you, dear? I'll be right out."

Loathe as he was to follow a hero's orders, Hari said nothing as he obediently retreated back into the adjacent room, gently placing Kai back upon the hospital bed, tucking him into the thick covers the school nurse had so generously provided.

The faint shiver that travelled through Kai's body broke his heart.

So busy was he with his task that it took him several minutes to see the hero now standing in the doorway, but when he did, he didn't even flinch, merely shooting the man a dirty look over his shoulder, his body subconsciously shielding Kai from the other's searching gaze.

"You."

Aizawa didn't even blink, his face an expressionless mask as he faced the man who'd attempted to kill him three years ago, his hands almost casually slipping themselves into the deep pockets of his pants. "Me."

"Come to finish the job?" Hari sneered, hands balling into fists at his sides, despite his best efforts of remaining calm. Picking fights with the people who quite literally held his freedom and Kai's life in their hands wouldn't help them after all, that he knew all too well. And yet he just couldn't help it, not entirely, his resentment pouring forth against his wishes. "Want to take a good look at your work?"

A barely noticeable frown flickered over Aizawa's exhausted face. 

"I'm not here to pick fights, Mr Kurono." 

Hari's lips quirked in a mirthless, bitter smile, arms crossing over his chest, his right, the one that had been stabbed by the hero kid three years ago, pulsing with phantom agony. As it always did when he was particularly tense, the nerve endings having never healed properly. "Then why are you here?"

"To tell you that we've ensured Hawks will not step one foot on UA premises from this point on. And to... apologize… for allowing this to happen."

Surprise welled within Kurono's chest at those quiet words, his crossed arms slacking in their tight grip as he regarded the hero standing before him, yet there was still simmering anger within his blue eyes as he faced him, barely noticeable hints of accusation. 

"You think that will be enough?" He asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper, a broken, mirthless chuckle leaving his lips, the man shaking his head in disbelief. "You keep him imprisoned here for information. Use him as bait. Drive him to… to suicide," he seemed to choke on the word, his heart clenching in pain, "with your selfish machinations. You use me as a tool to keep him alive and get him talking, holding his life over my head… And you have the audacity to come here and ask for forgiveness? The absolute arrogance to believe that this will undo everything you've done to him?"

"No." Aizawa said, his tone almost sad. "I didn't. But I was hoping that it would at least give you some peace of mind. To know that we do regret the things we've put him through. Even for his own safety. Whatever you may think of us at this point, Mr Kurono, we are going to save him. I can promise you that. And if you don't believe our words, as is your right, then just watch our actions from here on out."

And with that, he left, the ward door softly clicking shut behind him.

Chapter Text

"He's not going to live, you know." 

Dabi didn't spare the other a glance, much too busy with the frail, overwhelmingly weak body cradled safely within the warm sanctity of his arms, brows furrowed in what could almost be perceived as fear and worry.

Despite the icy silence that had fallen between them, Hawks continued on regardless.

"He's got pneumonia, Dabs… Fluid in both his lungs. You heard what Kyudai said the last time he was here, didn't you? He's not gonna make it long in these conditions no matter what you try. He's dying."

Dabi continued to ignore him, a soft, shushing croon leaving his scarred lips as Kai shifted almost imperceptibly within his arms, a feeble, barely audible whimper leaving pale lips before a wet and unpleasant cough wracked that sickly form, the burnt villain quickly covering the other's mouth with a readily prepared tissue; before Chisaki could get any fluids on him.

Hawks breathed an irritated huff.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

"He's got pneumonia, he's gonna die, blah, blah, blah." Dabi intoned lazily, barely sparing the other a passing glance as he readjusted the thick blanket swathed tightly around the yakuza's form, upping his own body temperature as he gently cradled the former capo against his chest, keeping him comfortably warm. "That the general gist of it, Birdie?"

Hawks shot him a dry and unamused look, but there was undeniable reproach in his eyes now as well, along with something else, something that was so alien to Dabi, and, frankly, to everyone in the League that it took the man quite literally a few seconds to identify the exact emotion he was seeing.

Concern… the hero was actually concerned. Though not for him. No. But for the small bundle wrapped tightly within his burnt arms.

It was there and gone before Dabi could comment on it.

"He needs professional help, Dabi." Hawks said, slowly and carefully enunciating each word, as if that would somehow serve to convince him. "A hospital. And since you obviously can't provide him with that, wouldn't it be more humane, more merciful to just put him out of his misery? It wouldn't take much to kill him now at all. He won't fight back, and you've already gotten your revenge. You've taught him a lesson. The game is over. You're just prolonging his suffering for the hell of it at this point. I'll admit, this year was fun, but it's time to let him go, don't you think? You've won. He's dying. What more could you possibly want from him? What's the purpose of continuing to mess with someone who's literally at death's door?"

Dabi scoffed derisively in response, though his fingers clenched tighter around the body cradled within his lap, pressing the yakuza ever closer to his warm chest. Almost as if he half expected Hawks to try and wrench the man from his grasp. Almost as if in a subconscious effort to keep Kai safe within his embrace.

"Awfully noble of you, Birdie. That the hero in you finally talking?" He joked, but there was a definitive edge to his voice now, the look in his eyes sharp as he peered at the winged man from the corner of his eyes. Analytical.

Hawks snorted, pulling himself up to sit on the withered bar stand a little straighter, wings fanning almost casually behind him.

"More like someone who doesn't get off on torturing a walking corpse." He retorted, voice deadpan. And yet when he eventually continued his tone was softer, gentler, considerably more understanding. "Look, I can see the way you've been looking at him these past few months, Dabs. You're not fooling me. I don't know what it is that draws you to him exactly, but you've gotten attached and that's a simple fact. Maybe he reminded you of someone abusive in your past at first (which is why you initially kept him around for so long), but that's no longer the case and we both know it. Something's changed and not for the better. And before you say anything, I'm not the only one who thinks this way — Shigaraki has noticed it too. He's been telling you to get rid of him for weeks now. Chisaki is no longer of any use to the League, at most he's dead weight. A liability. We can't copy the bullets he'd made. The science behind their creation is too complex, far beyond Twice's knowledge and understanding. Kyudai is doing what he can with them, having gleaned all the information he needed from him, including everything he knows about that girl he used for his plans. One that is currently out of our reach. Overhaul has served his purpose. And yet for some reason you still choose to keep him around. Almost like… like you can't let go of him. As if he reminds you of someone else now, as if he's become your emotional anchor of sorts, and that's a slippery slope if I've ever seen one, Dabi."

"Think I'm finally going off the deep end, Hawks?" Dabi asked, a crooked, familiar grin spreading across his burned and deformed features. "Think I can no longer tell the difference between him and someone else in my oh so tragic past?"

"I think you're developing an obsession, Dabi." Hawks corrected him, face darkening in a concerned frown. "I think you're getting too close. Maybe even starting to convince yourself that you love him. Care for him. And that's not a good thing. Especially considering the state he's in, and everything you— that happened between you. He won't love you. Not ever. Not truly. He won't return your feelings no matter how much you try to will him to, or convince yourself otherwise. And he is going to die."

As if in confirmation of his words, Chisaki whimpered and heaved again, a cough so powerful wracking his form that had it not been for Dabi holding him pressed securely against his chest - he would've most certainly fallen over, something thick and crimson splattering across the bar stand Hawks was leaning against mere centimeters from the hero's hand, and leaking down his pale chin in thick rivulets.

It took the hero several seconds to realize it was blood.

Clicking his tongue, Dabi gently wiped the stray liquid away, reaching for the antibiotics Kyudai had so generously given him during his last visit and pouring a glass of water, bringing both up to Chisaki's mouth. "C'mon, Princess, open up. These will make you feel better." His thumbs pressed painfully into the junction of the man's jaws, forcefully prying them apart, and Hawks couldn't help but wince in sympathy at the pitiful gagging the action evoked, a mixture of pity and disgust flashing across his shadowed face at the disturbing sight.

"There ya go," Dabi soothed as if oblivious to the hero's revulsion, gently brushing a comforting hand down the yakuza's trembling flank as Chisaki's body heaved with the force of the wracking coughs assaulting his form, the man clearly struggling not to bring the medicine back up, despite being so delirious. "There ya go. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna pull through this, right, Princess? Yeah, you're strong like that." The villain tucked a strand of disheveled hair behind a pierced ear, momentarily marveling at its new silver color, his turquoise eyes softening at the sight.

A woman's voice, one that he had not bothered to recall in years, sounded dimly in his ears, a soothing melody from a distant past, making him subconsciously relax and recline back against one of the more sturdy table chairs he'd pulled up next to the withered bar stand, unknowingly beginning to hum along. In his arms, Kai briefly stiffened at the sound of his voice, fear seizing him in its icy grip even while he was barely conscious, but almost instantly went limp once more, soothed by the villain gently lulling him to sleep; his golden eyes gradually slipping shut in perhaps the first peaceful slumber he'd had since Dabi had finally hauled his shivering form out of the raging thunderstorm.

"Who does he remind you of, Dabi?" Hawks asked, voice soft and gentle. Almost tentative, certainly out of place for someone as confident as him. "What do you see in him?"

"I can't do this anymore, mother…" The woman's voice whispered, trembling and on the verge of tears. "I-I can't.. He's hurting me… hurting the kids… and he doesn't even care…"

Touya's tearful turquoise eyes flashed before his vision.

"Dad doesn't mean to hurt me like this, right? He's just busy all the time... It's not like he doesn't care... right?"

"You're hurting me," Kai whimpered beneath him, lips pale and trembling almost imperceptibly with emotion, tears swimming within those pools of molten gold. "You're hurting me… and you don't care."

"What does it matter to you, Birdie?" He asked, eyes flashing almost lazily in the hero’s direction. "What do you care if I do see something in him?"

When Hawks replied, his voice was equally quiet.

"Can’t I just be worried about my friend, Dabi?"

Barking a harsh laugh, the villain sharply rose to his feet, Kai instinctively curling against his chest even in his sleep as the man readjusted his hold on the smaller form within his arms, turning to glower at the winged menace one last time. 

“I have no friends,” he spat, his voice as cold as the ice quirk he had never possessed. “Not within the League, and definitely not with you. The only reason I tolerate you is because you’re useful to our plans of taking down Hero Society. And you’d do well to remember that.”

"And as for poor Overhaul here… don't hurt your pretty head worrying about it. He still has his uses for me yet."

And with those final words, he left, the withered door clicking softly shut behind him. Obscuring him, along with the frail form cradled within his arms, from the hero’s view.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“I thought I’d find you here.”

All Might looked up.

Aizawa stood in the shadowed doorway of one of UA’s many balconies, the look on his face unreadable, though his eyes were lined with exhaustion. Amongst… other emotions. All Might had heard of his recent conversation with Chisaki’s ally, Kurono, he believed. He couldn’t imagine it had been too pleasant. Tsukauchi had told him the details of his own meeting with the man in prison. Kurono had been far from pleased to learn the details of Chisaki’s captivity. Had nearly lunged at the two officers once he'd informed of the man’s suicide attempt. It had taken a lot for them to calm him down. To convince him that they still had Chisaki's best interests at heart.

Even though they had almost allowed him to take his own life.

The familiar bitter twinge of guilt bit painfully at Yagi's heart.

A barely audible sigh left Aizawa's lips. 

"I thought we'd agreed we wouldn't be giving Kurono any more reasons to mistrust us," he said, voice dripping with quiet reproach. "He was about ready to start turning the entire school upside down searching for him. What the hell were you thinking removing him from his ward?"

"He needed a change in surroundings," All Might replied, defensive yet slightly guilty at the same time. "He's been locked in that tiny ward for so long… I thought getting a little fresh air would do him some good." 

The body within his arms shifted, Chisaki instinctively burying his face into the soft lapels of his shirt, seeking warmth even within the grasp of unconsciousness. All Might didn't withhold a small smile at that, gently readjusting the man cradled in his grasp, tucking the blankets tighter around him, protecting him from the chilly breeze.

"Staying in there was only making him sicker."

A long-suffering sigh sounded behind him, full of exasperated resignation and then Aizawa was suddenly right there beside him, leaning against the sturdy railing of the small balcony, his dark eyes staring off into the distance, fixed on nothing in particular.

For a while neither of them said anything, simply enjoying the view before them, the breeze threading through the maze of surrounding buildings and trees.

After what seemed to be ages, Aizawa spoke again.

"You know… behaving like this… it isn't rational."

All Might shot him a long look, examining his face, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Hm?"

"You. Caring for him. It isn't rational."

The man said nothing, his gaze inquisitive as he continued to stare at his exhausted colleague, patiently waiting for him to continue. Aizawa dragged a heavy hand down his face.

"Whatever state he may be in now… it doesn't change what he did. It doesn't undo all the mistakes he'd made… or the hurt he'd spread to so many people. It just... it isn't the behavior of a rational human, and I can understand the kids acting this way because they're still young, but… for you to keep caring for him like this... He won't apologize… Ever. And it won't bring Nighteye back."

"No," All Might agreed quietly, his fingers clenching a fraction tighter around Chisaki's body. "It won't."

Another heavy silence fell between them and when Aizawa spoke up once more his voice was even softer than before, almost tentative, a stark contrast to his usual, blunt monotone. 

"So... why?"

"Because I can't leave him like this." A small, bitter smile flickered over All Might’s haggard features. "I can't abandon him to his fate, knowing full well that I could've helped him."

The look on Shota's face could almost be called pitying. Almost.

"No one would blame you if you chose not to help him, All Might." He said, voice soft. The quietest Yagi had ever heard it. "You're just as human as the rest of us, and just because you used to be the number one… doesn't necessarily mean that you are obligated to save everyone. Including the criminal who murdered one of your closest friends."

"But it does."

All Might shook his head, a soothing croon immediately leaving his lips as Kai shifted within his arms once more, a small, faint sound of discomfort and distress ripping itself from the depths of Chisaki's throat, the hero wrapping his arms even tighter around him.

"Even before I earned One for All I knew what I needed to become. What this world needed me to be. In the era of great dissent and disunity, what this country… and in fact the entire planet, really needed was a symbol to unite around. Someone who would embody all the purity and strength and valor of the human race, uphold all the positive qualities we ever held dear. I relinquished my right to give in to selfish human emotions a long time ago… the moment I chose to become a symbol in hopes of piecing this world together."

"When I was in that hospital… I thought I could permit myself to be human again. I thought I could allow myself to hold a grudge, to be bitter, to allow pain to sink its claws into my heart and nurse the bitter feeling of resentment taking over me… but I realized I could not. I tried doing so again when Chisaki was first brought here, and young Midoriya found out about his existence. And yet again to my shame I realized I could not permit myself to do so. I have no right to be angry, to hate him. No right to deny him the opportunity to be saved. Because then what becomes of the symbol I am supposed to represent? What becomes of the 'Symbol of Peace'? All the years I spent fighting villainy… of giving this world hope… undone by a single act of selfishness?"

All Might shook his head, a look of such profound disgust flashing across his face that it even made something within Aizawa clench with pain, his black eyes never leaving the man standing beside him.

"Nighteye wouldn't have ever wanted me to fall that far… wouldn't have wanted me to allow his death to destroy everything we worked together to maintain… and…" A heavy sigh left All Might’s lips before he continued,  eyes flickering to Aizawa's form. "I can't really blame Chisaki for killing him. Not truly. Truth is, when we become heroes we all accept the possibility that we may someday die fulfilling our duties… it's part of the job. It's what we knowingly sign up for. I can't blame Chisaki for fighting back any more than I can blame Nighteye for choosing to raid the Shie Hassaikai headquarters. They were both fighting for what they believed was right. It just so happened that Overhaul turned out to be stronger…"

Their gazes fell to the man cradled within Yagi's grasp, the pale, sharp features so different from the villain they had known three years ago. 

"That is why I continue to care for him, irrational as it may be. But that's not exactly what you were asking, was it?"

Aizawa looked away. For a few long minutes that seemed to last an entire eternity he didn't speak, but when he finally did his voice sounded choked. Almost on the verge of cracking.

"Eri's nightmares came back." He confirmed quietly, his body sagging against the balcony railings, elbows finding purchase upon the cold steel. "She's been having them every night, ever since Midoriya stopped visiting her after choosing to care for Chisaki. She tries to hide it, of course, to the best of her ability. Doesn't want to worry us, or… or show weakness. But I can tell how much they affect her. And I can guess what they're about: old ghosts coming to whisper in her ears, telling her she's not wanted, that she's a curse and reminding her of how she'd killed her father." A heavy breath left the man's lips, black strands swaying in the soft breeze as he shook his head, as if trying unsuccessfully to dispel the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. "It's… distressing. To see her like this again. I haven't felt this angry and helpless in a while."

All Might’s eyes softened in sudden understanding and sorrow. 

"That's why you've been avoiding Chisaki," he whispered and his colleague nodded, gaze falling to his clasped hands.

"I was worried I would hurt him."

All Might fell silent, unsure of what to say, but Aizawa didn't seem to notice his brief hesitation, eyes never leaving the landscape beneath him, as if talking to it was somehow easier than actually facing the former number one hero beside him.

"I've been... able to control it before, you know. Keep myself in check. Allowing emotions to rule you isn't rational or helpful to anybody, I know that all too well. Just as I know that it won't take her pain away. Won't undo everything that man did to her. Everything he's still doing to her. But sometimes… I just can't stop thinking about it. Feeling like I am losing control, like the ground is slipping from beneath my feet, and thinking that maybe, maybe if I hit him for what he did to my daughter, just once, I will be able to reign in the anger again. That if I just hurt him… the same way he hurt her… it'll all go away and I'll be able to do my job again."

"I'm sure that the League of Villains had a similar line of thought when they abducted him." All Might said, but there was not even a shadow of reproach in his voice as he said this. Only overwhelming sadness. "I'm sure that by punishing him they thought they would be avenging their lost comrade, Magne."

Aizawa shot him an exhausted look. "You think I don't realize that? You think I don't realize I'm behaving like a villain?"

"I didn't say that."

Aizawa turned away, a frustrated breath leaving his lips as long fingers compulsively dragged down his face, pressing into his brow bones with unnecessary force, as if willing the rising headache away. All Might’s gaze softened.

"You're not behaving like a villain, you're behaving like a father. A father whose child has been horrifically hurt. There's nothing shameful about that. But punishing Chisaki won't help you. It won't erase your frustration, your anger and the pain you rightfully feel. You will still hurt, maybe even worse than before if you act on your feelings. Especially considering the state he's in."

"I know." Aizawa murmured, his voice barely audible. "I know it will just make it hurt worse. I know I will never be able to be the mentor my students need me to be."

"Those kids look up to you," All Might contradicted him gently, blue eyes serious. "They respect you. And for good reason. You're one of the best heroes in Musutafu, and one of the best educators in UA. But more than that, you genuinely care for them as if they were your own, and I think you underestimate just how important that is for those kids. You're the best mentor they could've possibly asked for."

"But that's not enough, is it?"

Aizawa turned his back on the world lying before him, elbows propped up on the railing of the UA balcony and leaning heavily against it, eyes seemingly drawn to the floor beneath them. "My job isn't just to teach those kids how to fight, how to survive. It isn't just to make them strong. It's also my responsibility to instill discipline into those kids. Teach them what it really means to be a hero, to pass on values that they will uphold for the rest of their careers. God knows, this country has enough undisciplined ruffians running about, looking only for the next payout and fame. It doesn't need more."

"Well… that isn't entirely true…" All Might began, brows furrowed, but Aizawa broke him off before he could continue.

"It is, you're just too polite to say it. This society went on a downwards slope the minute heroes began to be viewed as celebrities. There was a shift in priorities, and suddenly it wasn't so much about protecting the community and being pillars of stability, as it was earning one shallow, overblown victory after another, just enough to keep oneself constantly in the spotlight."

"You're exaggerating." The other man contradicted gently, his eyes never leaving his colleague's slumped form. "There is a societal issue, yes, but I believe you're blowing it out of proportion. You're too categorical in your views, Aizawa. Not every hero is like what you describe. The kids in this very school prove it."

"Maybe, but they're still young. Idealistic. The minute they get a taste of real public recognition… well, things like that change you." Aizawa breathed a heavy, exhausted sigh, his arms crossing tightly over his broad chest, gaze suddenly distant.

"I've been an underground hero for fifteen years now, All Might. And there's a reason I chose that particular career path when I left UA. Even before leaving school I could see how fame affected individuals. How it twisted their views. My opinion didn't change when I graduated and became a full fledged hero. If anything it only worsened with each new atrocity I faced, each gruesome crime that news channels kept on the down low and above ground heroes never had to deal with. Robberies, loss of quirk control, public disturbances — that's what above ground heroes usually deal with and earn excessive praise for. But what about the murders? The kidnappings? Human experimentation? Trafficking? Who deals with those crimes? Crimes that ground you in reality and remind you every single day what evil you're truly fighting against? Would you even know about All for One if it were not for your quirk? Probably not. And it's my job as their teacher to keep these kids from turning out that way. To keep them aware of what they oppose so that they never lose their way to fame. But how can I do that if I can't even control my own anger? If I can't bring myself to help, or even be around someone in need?.. what kind of example am I setting if I can't spend a second in Chisaki's company without fear of doing something I'll later regret?"

"You have to trust yourself that you won't hurt him." All Might said, voice serious. "I know you, Aizawa. You'd never hurt a defenseless human being, and the mere fact that you're beating yourself up this much over your feelings towards Chisaki only proves my point."

But despite his words his colleague was already shaking his head, the rays of the overhead sun only highlighting the dark bags of exhaustion lining his dark eyes. Making them more apparent.

"I'm tired, All Might." He confessed, something solemn permesting his voice, something deeply sorrowful. "I'm tired of dealing with all of this. I'm tired of being unable to help her. I'm tired of feeling helpless. I'm tired of losing control. I… I don't know what would happen if I were to find myself with him alone. And I'd rather not take any chances."

After a beat of silence, All Might suddenly turned towards him, extending the frail form curled within his warm embrace. 

"Hold him."

Aizawa shot him a sharp look, brows furrowed in confusion and alarm.

"Weren't you listening? I don't—"

"I heard you just fine. Hold him." 

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around Chisaki, All Might reached out, gently grasping Aizawa's arms and yanking them forward, extending them, and suddenly there was a body being pressed insistently into his grasp, the man grabbing it on reflex, not letting it fall. Shocked, black eyes watched as the yakuza squirmed feebly within his hold, getting more comfortable, before settling against him once more, chest rising and falling evenly in his sleep; Kai seemingly unaware of the sudden change in embrace.

Beside them All Might smiled. Just slightly.

"You're overthinking it, Aizawa. I recommend spending less time in your head. If you truly wanted to hurt him and weren't in control, you would've dropped him, or thrown him over the railing by now."

"He's light." Aizawa commented numbly, unconsciously tightening his grip as Chisaki shifted in his hands once more. A gesture that All Might didn't miss. "I didn't expect him to be as light as this."

There was a moment of silence between them as the two of them watched the form cradled within Aizawa's grasp, both men seemingly unable to tear their attention away from the frail former villain pressed tightly against the hero's chest.

"He's not the same man he used to be, Aizawa." All Might said quietly at last, voice impossibly soft. "He's no longer the same person who hurt Eri and killed Nighteye. Punishing him now, after he's already been hurt so much, wouldn't be just."

Nodding after a moment's hesitation, Aizawa turned away, gently hiking Kai up higher in his arms and shielding him from the chilly breeze that had by now reached the balcony they were standing on, slowly heading back towards the glass door.

"I think it's time to return him to his ward," he said quietly, almost awkwardly clearing his throat. "It's getting cold and Kurono probably won't wait any longer."

All Might nodded in silent agreement and turned back to the school grounds stretching out beneath him, saying nothing as Aizawa disappeared within the dark depths of the school building.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"You should eat, you know." 

Hari shook his head, furiously gesturing dismissing the voice with an irritated flick of his hand, almost as if he were waving the notion away like a particularly annoying fly.

"You're not helping him by trying to starve yourself to death."

Eyes narrowing in a dark scowl, he reluctantly  tore his attention away from the form lying before him and turned to glare at the school nurse, hands curling into tight fists.

"Trying to get me out of room so your colleagues can abduct him again?" He gritted out through clenched teeth, voice shaking with anger.

To her credit, the woman didn't even flinch, gazing at him almost placidly, and maybe even a little sadly, from the open doorway. 

"There's no need to dramatize, child." She admonished gently, and Hari grit his teeth so tightly he swore he felt them crack, feeling increasingly like a scolded toddler throwing a tantrum and hating it with every fiber of his being. "He wasn't abducted. And my colleague has already apologized profusely for his thoughtless gesture. He has a good heart, but I'm afraid he often doesn't stop to think before acting on his impulses. He will be sure to warn you the next time he feels the sudden urge to help."

"We don't need his help." Hari hissed, fingers curling tighter where they were laced with Kai's own. "We're managing just fine."

The elderly woman quirked a single eyebrow at the rather immature retort, shooting him a dry, unamused look.

"As evidenced by your adamant refusal to eat?" She asked wryly, and Hari was suddenly starkly reminded of Pops, the man having often used the same, sardonic tone during his childhood. "Come along."

Realizing he had effectively lost the argument, Hari reluctantly rose to his feet with a low grumble, quickly checking on Kai before stalking reluctantly after the school nurse, absolutely not pettily dragging his feet as he did so.

He almost regretted his behavior when Shuzenji shot him a knowing look. Almost.

There was a plate of sandwiches waiting for him on the nurse's desk when he entered the main office, and despite himself Hari felt something within him clench with hunger that he somehow hadn't felt up until this moment, the man making an instant beeline for the offered food in as much of a dignified manner as he could manage. Which was none at all.

Lips quirking in a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile, the woman sat down in a chair opposite him, moving aside several files to make more room for the starved luitenant, her eyes raking over his withered, abnormally thin form.

"Did they not feed you at all in prison?" She mused quietly, her expression almost resembling that of concern, if Hari hadn't known beforehand that heroes didn't much care for the wellbeing of criminals. "I would've thought you'd have more meat on your bones than that."

He debated on telling her that meals for child abusers in prison had a bad habit of mysteriously disappearing before they could even reach their owners.

Sighing at his continued stubborn silence, the woman leaned back in her seat as he ate, turning her attention back to the computer screen beside her, absent mindedly skimming through a couple files. Hari didn't bother to check what she was looking at. They were probably student records, containing nothing of interest that he could later use against them, not if she was so openly checking them beside him. 

The thought that maybe she trusted him not to do something illicit with the information he indirectly received didn't cross his mind once.

"You seem to be very close to Kai." She said after a few minutes of silence, and Hari resisted the urge to shoot her a glare for the casual use of Chisaki's name, far too preoccupied with his food. "Childhood friends?"

"You have my file." He groused unpleasantly in response, avidly demonstrating that he was not in the mood for forced small talk. "Why ask me?"

"Oh, I have no use for such silly things." She huffed with a small laugh, waving a withered hand and relaxing against the comfortable back of her office chair. "They're so terribly impersonal, don't you think? And they often don't contain anything truly important. Nothing that I wouldn't much rather learn from the person himself."

"They tell you I'm a criminal and what kind of crimes I committed." Hari rebutted, voice dark and bitter. "That's considered important enough information for most."

The woman breathed a heavy sigh as Hari pointedly went back to his meal, stubbornly evading her sad gaze. "Not to me." She said softly at last, and he shot her a venomous look, one severely undermined by his disheveled and exhausted appearance.

"You're the first then."

A tense pregnant pause fell between them.

"You seem to hold a lot of resentment towards heroes." Shuzenji noted, her small, uncomfortably kind eyes never leaving his face. "Abnormally so."

"I wonder why." Hari mumbled sarcastically, setting the now empty plate back on the table between them with a little more force than necessary.

"So do I."

Realizing it was very unlikely he'd be able to avoid partaking in this so far very one-sided conversation, Hari came to the conclusion it was best to get it over with and leaned back in his own seat, tensely crossing his arms over his clothed chest.

"I was born into a family that was alleged to have affiliation with the Shie Hassaikai." He began reluctantly, his eyes falling to his scuffed shoes and the polished floor beneath them. "All I've really ever felt from heroes was nothing but contempt and disdain, being labeled a criminal before I was even an adult for simply being born to the wrong parents. It didn't even matter if we were truly operating illegally, which, with the growing influence of All Might, we weren't aside from a few isolated shady deals, we were just hated on principle. Treated like villains."

He shook his head, jaw briefly setting in an unconscious gesture as long buried anger temporarily rose to the surface, fingers clenching tighter around his arms.

"There wasn't a single moment of peace for us. We were constantly watched, all too often subjected to illegal searches based on the flimsiest of evidence. I wasn't exempt from this rule and often examined, presumably because the authorities suspected me of being a drug mule. Other kids didn't want to be around me, their parents probably warned them to stay away as they thought I would drag them into the criminal world I was supposedly a part of. I suppose it's not surprising that just to spite all of them I decided rather early on that I would one day join the Hassaikai in earnest, once I was old enough to do so. Little did I know, however, that it was going to happen sooner than I had expected."

His blue eyes strayed to the door of the adjacent ward, something soft, something tender, flashing over his face, quickly hidden behind an emotionless mask.

"The big boss of the organization seemed to have had stumbled across a mutilated kid, you see, and took an immediate liking to him. I was the only one close to his age, so my father was ordered to bring me in, make me keep him company."

Unbeknownst to him, a small smile flickered across his lips at the distant but cherished memory, a fact that was not overlooked by the nurse sitting in front of him. 

"Mother wasn't happy, of course. Maybe she was hoping I could somehow escape that kind of life. Maybe she was secretly trying to think of ways to leave, figuring if we conformed we'd be able to live in peace. I on the other hand was just happy to finally have a friend, even one who, as it turns out, sported a disfigured beak for a mouth and didn't seem all too excited to socialize."

"We never really did figure out what happened to him to have forced him to become homeless and be reduced to such condition. Kai wouldn't talk about it, not even to Pops. At some point the general consensus just became that he got a little too excited with his quirk after manifesting it, which, unfortunately for him, turned out to be a little too difficult for a toddler to control. The assumption was further supported when he fixed his face after becoming proficient enough with his quirk, so I never saw the need to question it. And I saw the lasting effect the experience had on Kai."

Hari shook his head, eyes briefly flickering to the nurse's form, almost as if he were only now remembering to whom he was talking to, any residual softness on his face vanishing from his expression as quickly as it had appeared.

"There weren't a lot of kids in the Hassaikai. Just us really. We grew up together, supported each other. Through thick and thin, through all the oftentimes unwarranted aggression and harassment - we were always there for each other. Kai showed me what was truly wrong with this society, from what all the issues that plagued my life stemmed. And we were going to change it. In our own way we were going to save it, even though it had done nothing to earn our sympathy. But then, once again you came along, with your unfounded speculations and circumstantial evidence and ham-fisted ideas and destroyed everything we worked so hard to build. As usual. But you didn't just stop there this time, did you?"

His voice cracked, and he looked away, eyes burning in an all too familiar manner. He wasn't going to shed tears though. No. Not here, not now. Not in front of a hero.

"You didn't protect him after you arrested him. You allowed him to be captured. You didn't even try to check to make sure that he was actually dead. You didn't look for him. It's your fault he's like this. But even after you recovered him, you didn't learn from your mistake, did you? You imprisoned him. You allowed that thing to harass him. You knew that the Commission was up to something. You knew and you still let it happen. He almost died and it's entirely your fault."

Fingers raking furiously through the short strands of his shaved scalp, Hari rose sharply to his feet, the chair screeching unpleasantly with the force of the rough action as it was violently pushed aside.

When he finally looked back his eyes were as cold as ice.

"Thanks for the meal," he said with not even a shred of genuine gratitude evident in his voice. "But I think I'll be going back to Kai now."

Miss Shuzenji didn't try to stop him.

Chapter Text

"Thanks... for agreeing to talk with me." Mirio mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically low and heavy as he slid the office door shut behind them with a soft click, slowly making his way over to one of the vacant chairs lining the office space. Deku nodded mutely, his throat feeling thick as he shifted uncomfortably within his own seat, hands shifting awkwardly before finally folding in his lap; as if the boy were suddenly unsure of what to do with them.

"Yeah... no problem." He replied, clearing his throat, green eyes studiously avoiding Mirio's gaze. 

"How's... How's Chisaki?"

Deku wasn't quite sure if it were wise to start the conversation with that. In fact, it was very likely that it wasn't. Mirio had to have requested to talk with him for a different reason; had to be wondering about a lot of other things right now. Like why hadn't Deku told him the truth? Why had he chosen to help Chisaki instead of leaving the villain to his fate? Why had he abandoned Eri? And yet all of those questions seemed irrelevant to him now. Unimportant... when compared to Chisaki’s life.

Mirio shook his head, as if in an effort to dispel some unpleasant thoughts or emotions plaguing him, his body sinking heavily into the seat opposite of the sheepish boy, hands clasping tightly before him.

"He's got himself an infection. The blade he used wasn't cleaned properly before he sliced his wrist. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like it's anything aggressive, certainly not staph. On the other hand, he's so weak that just about anything can be a danger to his life now, I suppose. Recovery Girl has put him on antibiotics right away anyhow, so hopefully that will be brought under control quickly… If he's strong enough to handle it, that is." A heavy sigh left the boy's lips, tense fingers raking viciously through sandy colored hair, making the strands stick in every direction and only adding to the image of complete exhaustion. "She also diagnosed him with broken heart syndrome. A condition probably brought on by his loneliness and long term depression. I'm guessing she's been suspecting it for a while now and it's one of the reasons they decided to bring in one of his former subordinates, hoping that seeing someone from his old life would help stabilize him."

Deku's throat went dry.

"You mean... one of the Eight Precepts... is here?"

He wasn't quite sure why the thought unsettled him so much. Made guilt well up in his chest until he could hardly breathe, his hands curling into fists so tightly that his knuckles went white with the force of his vice-like grip, gaze falling to the wooden floorboards beneath them.

Would Chisaki’s people blame him? Revile him for allowing this to happen? Despise him for standing by... and letting Shigaraki have his way? 

Mirio nodded.

"Yeah, Kurono Hari. I was assured that every precaution would be taken to ensure that he presents no threat to anyone in the school. Not that he currently seems to have any interest in attacking any of the teachers or students here, mind you." The man shook his head, something faintly bitter flashing across his face, something shockingly unpleasant. 

Deku stared at him, aghast, unused to such expressions from the normally cheerful teen.

"I guess they're attempting to prevent a... a repeat attempt of what had happened yesterday. It was only luck that they had all the papers drawn up in advance, so they didn't waste time on... pointless bureaucracy."

The thought that the heroes might have foreseen this happening was left unsaid.

"So that's what she meant by him having someone with him. Why she didn't let us in." Deku muttered with sudden understanding, shaking himself out of his brief stupor, the look in his green eyes momentarily distant. "Kurono Hari was there."

Mirio nodded.

"Yeah. And he hasn't been taking too kindly to visitors, especially heroes, mind you. Watches his boss like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close. My advice? Best stay out of his way for now. Let the two of them reconnect and relax a little. Lower their guard. The night was difficult for everyone."

Deku looked down, his heart suddenly feeling heavy.

"He begged me to kill him."

He wasn't quite sure what had brought the quiet confession forth, a lengthy pause falling between them, and when he dared to sneak a glance at the other boy's face, Mirio's gaze was surprisingly hard, the hero's lips drawn into a thin, tense line. 

"Yeah, he did." The familiar voice was shockingly bitter. Void of any hint of warmth.

Something defensive welled inside Deku's heart, something alarming and unpleasant.

"This was the first time he's shouted at me like that since he'd been brought here." He said and his own voice sounded weak to his ears, imploring, begging Mirio to understand. "It is the first time I've seen him so aggressive."

"Yeah, well, people don't change, Izu. Especially not on their deathbed." Mirio murmured, his fingers pressing against his forehead in what was undeniably exhaustion and headache, rubbing firm, tense circles into the bone there. "Not entirely. When he didn't get his way, he resorted to what he knew best: anger and violence. Simple as that. Truth is, there's no justification for what he did. He wanted out and he didn't care who he had to hurt to do it. Including you."

There was no emotion in Mirio's voice. For all Deku knew the hero could be reading from a script. But even so he could feel the sadness radiating off the man's form, the bone deep anguish.

"He was scared." Deku defended, trembling. "He was in pain." He probably thought we would all be better off without him… and that this was the only way he could escape from the League…

"Be that as it may, he didn't have to target you the way he did!" Mirio snapped suddenly, ripping him from his thoughts, anger flashing briefly within his eyes, there and gone within seconds and yet leaving the other boy stunned into speechlessness upon seeing it. "He didn't have to drag you into it! If his actions were purely selfless, as you say, he never would have hurt you that way, wouldn't have attacked you like that in a desperate bid to force your hand! There is no excuse for him to have shouted such obscenities at you, no matter what mental state he was in at the time! And to me that just proves that Overhaul is still in there, just hiding beneath the surface. Like the viper he's always been."

Deku's mouth felt dry. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribcage. Some part of him wanted to believe that they weren't having this conversation. That this was some horrible, horrible dream that he would eventually wake from. Surely Mirio couldn't be sitting here, telling him such things. Surely this was a cruel trick his mind was playing on him - a product of a traumatic, difficult night. This was so bizarrely unlike the hero, his friend, the person he knew. As if someone else had taken the place of the Mirio he'd been looking up to for the last three years, the man sitting opposite him no more than an unrecognizable stranger. 

But there was no denying it. This was real, however much he might have wished to deny it.

"I…" Mirio shook his head, stray strands of his unruly, golden hair falling into his eyes as he rubbed a heavy hand down his face, the action tense and dripping with anxiety. Almost manic, the young hero looking like he was mere moments from a complete nervous breakdown of his own.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.

"I can't help him, Izu."

For a moment Deku thought he had misheard him, his brows furrowing as he looked at the hero seated before him. When the words finally sunk in, his mouth went dry, disbelief and denial coiling bitterly within his chest, warring with growing dismay. 

"Wh-what? I don't—"

"I said I can't help him." Mirio repeated, his voice suddenly much steadier, firmer, but still barely louder than a whisper, eyes stubbornly trained on the polished floor between them. As if he suddenly couldn’t bear to look the other hero in the eyes. "I can't."

"You're a hero." Deku said, voice trembling. "You're supposed to help—"

"Yeah, well I can't help him." Mirio snapped with sudden anger, his eyes widening in surprise a split second later. As if he himself had not expected the outburst. The clap of thunder outside sounded again, louder this time. Rain was starting to patter against the window overlooking the school grounds. "Not after what he did to Nighteye."

And there it was. Nighteye. The topic Deku knew was coming and yet somehow hoped would never come up in conversation. The immediate guilt that came with it was crushing. Squeezing his heart in a vice-like grip, forcing all remaining air from his lungs.

He should've known that this was coming.

"I… I just—" Mirio shook his head, visibly lost, looking so vulnerable, so haunted, so utterly defeated by old grief. Tears glistened in his blue, normally so cheerful, so joyous eyes, that were now filled with nothing but unbearable pain. "I can't stop remembering that day. When I look at him… in that hospital bed… all I see is a different ward. A different bed. And a different person lying within it. When I try to reach out to him all I feel is my quirk draining from my body, stone spikes slicing my skin and sinking into my gut. And all I hear…" The hero took a shuddering breath. "All I hear are Eri's cries and Nighteye's last words to me."

The words were like daggers to his heart. Pain blossomed in his chest, cruel and unyielding. Memories flashed before his eyes, almost like on an old film reel: Eri flinging herself out of that dark alleyway, crashing into him; Eri flinching away from his outstretched hand, as if expecting him to strike her. Eyes glaring at him from the darkness, Chisaki emerging from its depths a few seconds later like a stalking beast after its prey, all unnerving smiles and honey sweet tone, oozing deception and danger. Those same eyes widened in insanity and anger and sadistic satisfaction as the villain lured Eri back into his claws, vowing to kill them all if she didn't. The very dark images that had haunted Deku's own dreams for so many years, that had left him sitting upright in his bed at dead of night, panting and drenched in cold sweat, unable to go back to sleep, came flooding back all at once. Threatening to overwhelm him.

Yeah, he knew exactly what Mirio was talking about. But that didn't make it hurt any less to hear it.

A bitter, choked laugh left Mirio's lips, the sound resembling a sob more than it did anything else, almost drowned out by the sounds of the storm brewing outside. When Deku looked up he wasn't surprised to see the tears glistening in those vivid blue eyes, slowly trickling down round cheeks. And when Mirio spoke again his voice was so quiet it was barely audible. "Heroes are supposed to wrap their capes around those in need, you know. Wrap them around those who are suffering. Those who are in pain and crying out for help. That's why we wear them, after all. To acknowledge someone else's agony. To reassure them. To show them that we are there for them. To share our warmth and light with those whose entire lives have been cast into ice cold darkness with no hope in sight. That was my dream. One that Nighteye supported to his very last breath. Whatever energy he'd had left… he used it to give me one last comfort. Gave me hope that… that even quirkless and damaged as I was… I would still become a hero and share the same warmth and light he'd once shared with me."

"But I can't do it with Chisaki. I-I can't. I can't wrap my cape around him. I won't."

There were tears stinging his eyes, but Deku barely acknowledged them. All he was aware of was the heartbreak squeezing his chest like a vice, forcing all remaining air from his lungs. The acute sorrow coursing through his veins. The faintest sensation of betrayal. "Nothing is nobler than self sacrifice…" Wasn't that what All Might had once told him? And yet… beneath all of his turmoil… Deku realized there wasn't just resentment. There was understanding there too. 

"There shouldn't be a criteria upon which we choose to help people, Midoriya. A hero's job isn't to judge, it's to save." Aizawa's voice rang in his ears, quiet and full of sorrow. "It's an ideal all of us strive towards… To try and not condemn those we don't want to save... But at the end of the day, all of us are just human, and there are some people we simply can't bring ourselves to help, no matter how hard we may try."

Chisaki had taken everything from Mirio. His quirk. His dreams. His mentor. Everything Mirio had ever valued in his life - stolen from him in one fell swoop. In just one bad day. Deku often forgot how young the other still was, how young they all were, in fact. With so much tragedy they'd had to bear witness to… it often slipped his notice just how early both of them had had to face the world's ugliness and horror. It shouldn't be all that surprising to him that Mirio was refusing to help the same man who disabled him. Robbed him of something that had always been an integral part of him, no matter how difficult it was to control. A portion of Mirio's very identity stripped from him against his will, just simply gone. Kids shouldn't be exposed to that. Should never have to go through something like that. Should never suffer the loss of someone they considered a father.

Nighteye had had his faults, like any. That much was true. But his staunch, unwavering belief in Mirio, in his dreams, was always unquestionable.

As much as it hurt him, perhaps the healthiest thing Mirio could do right now was to just walk away. To recognize that he was not able to help Chisaki. That he was not suited for it. Not obligated to contribute. Not only for the villain's sake but also for his own. To realize that some things were not easily forgotten or forgiven and to set clear boundaries to protect himself and heal.. Have the strength to just say no.

"I… understand." He croaked out, his mouth so dry it was difficult to formulate words, his tongue seemingly reluctant to follow his orders. He didn't need to look up to see the surprise on Mirio's face, the guilt and yet the slightest glimmer of relief. "If that's what you've decided… what you need… then that's probably for the best."

There was nothing more left to say. Nothing else that Deku could offer him. A strange coldness fell between them, as if a deep chasm had suddenly opened beneath their feet, effectively separating them, leaving them stranded on opposite sides. Both of them had made their choices, and neither could judge the other for their decision, just simply respect it. Accept it for what it was. And as if realizing this, after a moment of silence, Mirio rose from his seat and Deku let him, his eyes drawn to the window overlooking UA's dorms, watching the storm hailing outside, as if it were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room; reluctant to watch the other go. However, Mirio seemed to hesitate as he reached for the doorknob, his fingers settling heavily upon the smooth metal, clenching it tightly. 

"Why didn't you at least tell me, Izu?" He asked at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Why did you hide this truth from me?"

Deku's gaze dropped to his flexing hands, throat feeling suddenly thick, making it difficult for him to swallow.

"Because for a long time I was disgusted with myself." He admitted quietly, watching his fingers clench and unclench in his lap. "I didn't know if what I was doing was right. After the way he hurt you… hurt Eri… I-I didn't feel like it was right for me to be around you. It was like I was carrying a disease I didn't want to spread. Like I was tainted. And even after I realized that the decision I made was right, I… I just couldn't hurt you that way."

A heavy silence fell between them. He could practically feel Mirio's gaze on him, his eyes boring into him, but refused to meet them. After a beat of silence that seemed to last an eternity, the hero spoke.

"Eri." Green eyes looked up, reluctantly meeting navy. "I won't tell her. It's not for me to do so. But… you will come clean to her about this. When… when she's ready to hear it."

A single nod assuaged the hero's worry, Deku's expression becoming hard and serious. Showing no hesitation or signs of deceit.

"I promise."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The room he was ushered into was large and airy, filled with light. Bright rays of sunlight spilled through the giant windows, dancing upon the walls and table surfaces in splotches of brilliant yellow, orange and red. Tall bookshelves spanned an entire side of the room, pristine and obviously well maintained, not a speck of dust to be seen upon their shelves.

At first he assumed the small study was deserted, completely void of life. It was only when he peered around more thoroughly that he caught sight of the boy sitting in the distant corner, seemingly deeply engrossed in whatever book he was reading. No matter how hard he tried, Hari couldn't read nor understand its title. The words upon it seemed too long. Too complicated. Not at all like those on children's books, but something told him that the boy wasn't reading literature quite targeted for his age.

This must be the boy the scary man, one of dad's… friends, had spoken to him about. The one he was supposed to befriend. For a moment Hari struggled to remember his name before it surfaced in his mind once more.

Ah, yes. Kai.

He couldn’t see the boy's entire face. A black medical mask covered his mouth and nose. Somehow that simple accessory made him seem even more intimidating, Hari's swallowing heavily and looking up at the unfamiliar man that had escorted him here.

"Well, go on." The thuggish stranger grunted, giving him a non too gentle nudge in the boy's direction. "Boss said to deliver you here. I don't got all day."

Swallowing nervously, Hari hesitantly stepped into the room for real, flinching as the shoji slid shut behind him with a harder slam than was probably necessary, leaving the two of them alone. When he looked up, the other child was still buried in his book, seemingly dead to the world. The last thing Hari wanted was to approach him, however. To disturb him. The other kids hated it when he did that. When he tried to insert himself into their closed circles, Hari always finding himself left on the periphery. Because he was a villain. How would this time be any different? How could his dad's boss expect him to succeed? When Hari had failed every other time he'd tried?

But… he had to try. His dad counted on him to succeed. And if he didn't… something told Hari they'd be all in big trouble.

The boy still didn't look up even as he strode forward to stand in front him, the desk and upturned tome being the only objects standing between them. He couldn’t help but study what he could see of the other's face, the surprisingly pretty, golden eyes, the soft brown hair falling messily over the boy's forehead and the pinched, concentrated look that didn't seem much befitting of a child his age. 

He seemed pleasant enough though, Hari supposed. He didn't quite understand why the men that had led him here had called him a freak.

When it became clear that the other wouldn't notice him until he spoke up, Hari cleared his throat, the action awkward, hands clasping nervously in front of him.

"H-hi."

The reaction was almost immediate.

A strangled, choked sound left the boy's throat, the book slamming down onto the table as he pushed himself away from the table between them, crashing to the floor in his haste. Gasping in horror, Hari quickly hurried around the furniture to reach him, his hand outstretched to help the other up— only for the other child to flinch violently away from his fingers, fury and terror flashing in his eyes and body curling around itself, as if in defense from an incoming blow.

"Don't touch me!"

Tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and guilt churning uncomfortably in his chest, Hari immediately stepped away, hands rising in front of him in a peaceful gesture. Showing the other he was unarmed. 

"I-I'm sorry!" He choked out, voice shrill and pleading, bordering on tears. He didn't mean for this to happen. "I-I didn't mean to scare you!"

The boy studied him for a moment, as if assessing the truthfulness of his words, eyes raking warily up and down Hari's form and boring into him, before he slowly uncurled, moving to sit upright on the polished floorboards beneath them.

"Why are you crying?"

The sudden question caught Hari off guard. Sure, he knew he was somewhat of a crybaby, that wasn't anything new. It was something the other kids loved to taunt him for, besides calling him and his family villain scum, and often used as an excuse to punish him, leaving him bruised and sometimes bloodied. But never before had he been asked about it so calmly, without any hints of laughter of derision. Though he was already fine tuned to recognize aggression, he could not catch anything else but genuine curiosity in the other boy's tone. Honest confusion.

"I-I just," Hari sniffled, hastily wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "I didn't mean to upset you. That's all."

"You said that already. It's quite alright. I should've been paying more attention to my surroundings." Even the boy's speech was weird, far too sophisticated for a kid his age. Hari was so surprised that it even took him a few moments to register the full meaning of his words, openly gaping at him.

Nobody else had ever forgiven him so easily for what was clearly his fault before.

He was so shocked that it even took him a few moments to notice the handkerchief being extended in his direction, Kai letting out an impatient noise.

"Don't use your sleeves. That's disgusting. Here."

Hesitantly taking the cloth from the other boy's fingers, Hari slowly wiped his face clean, blue eyes watching him with what could almost be awe and curiosity. "You're not mad?"

Kai's brows pinched in confusion. "Why would I be?" His voice, Hari noted, was unusual as well. Much colder than that of other kids. Almost monotone. Like he wasn't quite sure how to express emotion and had given up on trying. "It was my fault."

Hari looked away. "Yeah, but other kids are always blaming me for stuff."

A curious, scoffing noise left Kai's lips, his eyes twinkling with the same disdain Hari himself often felt towards the neighboring children, but never had any courage to actually act on. "Other kids are idiots."

A small smile, the first of many, tugged at Hari's lips. "My name's Hari." He said as the other boy finally pulled himself up from the floor, coming to stand before him.

"Kai." The other answered, and though his voice didn't betray his own smile, his eyes certainly did. "Kai Chisaki."

"Kai." Hari begged, his voice cracking and desperate, boarding on tearful. "Kai, please stop doing that."

Kai didn't answer him, didn't even seem to hear him, writhing violently within his grasp, jaws snapping at the wrist Hari was holding carefully out of his reach, trying to sink his teeth into the bandages there.

This wasn't the first time in the last twelve hours that Kai had tried this. Had tried to rip out the stitches keeping him alive. Keeping him from bleeding out. No matter how much Hari pleaded with him. Begged him not to do it. Kai always didn't seem to hear him. Always went after his wound with almost manic energy, desperate to put an end to his own life.

A sharp intake of breath sounded from the body thrashing within his arms, and suddenly Kai was going limp in his grasp, those clouded, delirious eyes slowly sliding shut, only rolling upwards to stare resentfully at Hari one last time before they did, tears clumping those long eyelashes together. As if the man were asking him one last question before losing consciousness. As if he were begging him for an answer.

Why won't you just let me die?

Never before had Kai looked at him with such hatred. Not once in their entire lives. Up until now.

"I can't keep sedating him like this." Recovery Girl's gentle voice sounded in his ears as Hari ran a trembling hand down his face, struggling to hold back sobs. "You have to let me restrain him, Kurono. Just until we can speak with him properly."

"You can't." He snapped, his voice cold and yet doing nothing to conceal his anguish. "It scares him."

A heavy sigh sounded across from the small hospital room, followed by rattling as the woman pulled up a second chair next to Kai's bed, settling heavily upon it. 

"I don't like this any more than you do. But you know as well as I do that he won't stop trying to hurt himself if we don't do this." She said, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

And Hari did know… but that didn't make him any less against the idea, pain grasping his heart in a vice-like grip.

He should've been there…

"Just do it then." He choked out at last, eyes sliding shut, as if denying his reality.

After a moment's pause, the woman did just that, silently rising from her seat and gently extricating Kai's arms from his white knuckled grip, guiding them to the railings of his gurney and softly but firmly tying him down. Hari couldn't bring himself to watch her, shame and disgust with himself warring within him until he could hardly hope to bear it.

Kai's anguished cries still echoed in his ears.

"I can't do this." He whispered, almost to himself, his blue eyes hollow and lost. "I-I can't." 

He didn't even look up to see if Recovery Girl had reacted to his words before he was sharply rising to his feet and fleeing the hidden room, the nurse's office and out into the UA hallways beyond.

At this late hour the corridors of the renowned school were deserted and empty, entirely void of any human presence, the only sounds echoing down them being the sounds of his own frantic steps. Rain pattered against the windowsills separating him from the world outside, interspersed with claps of thunder. But to Hari that was a small mercy if any. A small distraction from the war going on inside, the blackness of despair threatening to engulf his heart.

Memories of Kai flashed before his eyes, of the childhood they had spent together. Kai chasing him through the hydrangea gardens of Pops' estate. Kai shyly moving his things to sit beside Hari in school after they had been put in the same class, as if some part of him expected rejection. Kai beating the kids tormenting them to a bloody pulp, earning a scolding from Pops. Kai hugging him wordlessly, despite his mysophobia, after Hari's parents had been found dead. Killed by drunk, overzealous heroes who just couldn't walk past them without picking a fight.

Out of the two of them Kai had always been the stronger one. The smarter one. The one who always had a plan. Who was always assuming the leadership role. Hari was only ever a follower. There to support him in whatever he did because he believed in his friend, his crush, and his vision. And now where did all this leave him? What was he supposed to do? How could he support Kai, if he didn't even know how to help him? If every choice he made only seemed to bring him more pain?

The Kai he knew was gone… Leaving Hari adrift, lost, stranded without direction. Utterly useless…

"I vowed to help protect him from monsters… but when a real one showed up all I can do is run away…"

The storm hailing outside only seemed to mock him for his weakness.

Even now… after three years of lamenting on his failures… Hari was still letting Kai down… 

Heavy footsteps echoed down the lonely hallways, but Kurono didn't even budge from his spot, much too drained to even react. After all, what did it matter if he were seen anymore? Maybe it would actually be a relief if he were taken back to prison. It wouldn't take the heroes long to figure out how useless he really was anyhow. That they couldn't use him, or Kai. Maybe that was their fate after all. The best possible outcome left for the two of them in a world that had proved itself stronger… that had destroyed them before they could destroy it.

I wish he were dead… I wish they were all dead and I was too…

"Shouldn't you be in the ward?"

The quiet, but all too familiar voice broke Hari from his increasingly spiraling thoughts, and he blinked, his vision hazy, looking up to meet Lemillion's navy gaze. A bitter laugh left Hari's lips, fingers coming up to brush away the tears that threatened to spill down his face. Before the hero could see them.

Even two decades later, some habits were hard to get rid of.

"What concern is it of yours where I am?" He asked, his own voice sounding hoarse and broken to his ears. Utterly defeated. "Shouldn't you be with the girl?" The same girl who'd brought about their downfall…

The hero's gaze hardened at the mention of Eri, and he could practically see the anger seeping into every line of the youth's form, the latter probably longing to fling himself at him. Not that it would matter much even if he did. Hari was beyond caring. Nothing could hurt him even a fraction as much as what lay in the ward behind him.

For a moment it seemed as if the hero were debating leaving. Simply walking past Hari and going on his way. It would probably be best for both of them. Though they hadn't exactly done anything to directly harm each other, both had still supported the people that did. It had been Kai who had murdered the pro hero Nighteye. And it had been the child hero, Deku, who had defeated his leader and all but allowed his abduction at the hands of the League. Neither had any reason to even be cordial to the other. And yet still Lemillion hesitated. Refused to simply leave.

"He needs you, you know."

The disbelief and bitter amusement must've shown on Hari's face at those words because the hero frowned, his brows furrowing even further.

"That wasn't a joke."

"Sure sounded like one." Hari retorted, patting down his pockets and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and lighter he'd managed to lift from one of the officers, the orange flames briefly illuminating his haggard features and the now pitch black world beyond the rain streaked glass. "Why do you suddenly care about what he needs?"

Disgust colored Lemillion's face, the hero not doing anything to hide it. Not even trying to. "In other words you just want to be left alone to wallow in self pity, don't you?"

Anger flared within him, and Hari couldn't stop himself from turning in the hero’s direction if he tried, blowing out a stream of nicotine smoke as he did so. "I don't have to justify myself to you."

"No," Lemillion agreed, his voice as hard and cold as steel. "You don't. Even if you try, it won't do anything to conceal what a coward you really are."

The cigarette pack crumpled in Hari's fingers with a sharp crack. 

"I can't help him." He snarled, blue eyes flashing with rage and at the same time self hatred. "I failed him."

"No, you're just too scared to face him. Face reality." Mirio retorted, his own anger pushing back against Hari's with equal might. "You're too scared to face this new version of him. You don't want to admit what's happened to him. You're terrified that now that you're the one calling the shots, and he isn't, you'll just make him even worse and ruin it. You're a coward."

"So, what if I am?!" Hari snapped finally, the cigarette bending in his grasp, ashes falling to the floor. "What if I am too scared to face him?! What if I am too scared to make him worse?! All I know is how to fail! I couldn't protect him from Shigaraki! I couldn't protect him from you. How will this—" He gestured to the closed door of Recovery Girl's office "— be any different?!"

"Because my friend is pouring his all into helping him!" Mirio snapped, his features darkening in fury. "My friend has spent countless days trying to put him back together! Sacrificed so much to be able to do so! Despite the pain it brought him, he put all his own problems aside to try and save someone in need! Chisaki tried to force him to kill him last night, don't you understand?! And yet you're telling me that you, his childhood friend, aren't going to lift a single finger to help him and bolt the moment it gets hard?! Is that really what you're telling me?!"

Shame, bitter and overpowering, slammed into Hari with all the force of a freight train, followed by guilt, and his gaze dropped to the floor beneath them, the man suddenly unable to meet the youth's gaze. A scoff sounded to his right and he very nearly stumbled and lost his balance as the hero roughly shouldered past him, throwing him one last look of utter disdain.

"You disgust me."

Hari could only watch as the edges of the red cape disappeared around a corner, his blue eyes suddenly distant. A long forgotten memory came to the surface, one he hadn't even thought of in years, having never given it much significance.

"You know, you shouldn't always let Chisaki call all the shots, Hari." Pops was saying, his gaze stern as it settled upon the guilty looking boy standing in the middle of his office. "He's not always going to be right in the choices he makes. And… there might come a time where he will need you to be able to take control. Where he will depend on you. And when that time comes… you must not fail him. You hear me, boy?"

The cigarette crumbled beneath his shoe, Hari standing for a moment in silence before opening the door of the nurse's office, determinedly striding back into the small ward there, his expression hard and unreadable.

Recovery Girl was still sitting at Kai's bedside when he entered, her elderly, withered hand gently caressing Kai's sleeping face, carding soothingly through dark locks and stroking down an impossibly pale cheek. She didn't say a word as Hari sank back down onto a chair beside her, his own fingers reaching out and clasping around Kai's limp ones, holding onto them as if they were suddenly a lifeline.

For once a hero was right. Hari really was a coward, trying to flee a reality he did not want to face. That he wanted to deny till the last moment, to pretend was just a bad dream. To wait for his monsters to go away on their own. But he was no longer a six year old child to believe such things. And he could indeed no longer depend on Chisaki to direct his every action. Instead, it was Hari's turn to pull them out of this mess, just like Kai had. Kai's very life dependended on it.

And Hari did not intend to fail him.

Chapter Text

The evening city was an endless source of din beneath him.

From the corner of his eyes Dabi could see the cars flitting along the shadowed streets below, each no more than a blurry smudge of color in his periphery, all speeding in different directions, all chasing a different goal. Some different purpose that was ultimately extraneous to him. The wind was no less loud up here, where he was standing on the edge of the penthouse balcony, than the incessant noise of traffic beneath him, but at the very least it was far less of an annoyance, more of a pleasant caress against his overheated skin. A soothing balm to his most recent burns.

Sometimes he really hated the doctor for giving him back the ability to feel pain.

The slightly rusted railing creaked quietly beneath his weight as he leaned heavily against it, elbows finding purchase on the cool metal, ashes falling from the tip of his cheap cigarette and scattering in the breeze as he took a long, luxurious drag.

As loath as he was to admit it - the vista now spread before him wasn't half bad at all, Giran had actually picked a decent enough hideout for them this time around. Dabi had, admittedly, been growing rather tired of shacking up in decrepit ruins of abandoned buildings, feeling his sensitive scars catch on stray nails and other trash littering worn, half rotten floorboards, joints aching every morning from hours spent lying on a hard surface. It wasn’t an unfamiliar lifestyle for him, that much was true. He'd slept in much worse places over the long years spent living on the streets, praying that he wasn't robbed blind or murdered every time he closed his eyes. He would always be grateful to have some roof over his head, no matter how dilapidated. But after joining Afo’s precious protégé he'd thought (perhaps rather foolishly) that he’d successfully put all those dark days behind him.

No such luck. All thanks to the man now lying in the dark bedroom behind him.

Sighing, Dabi took another drag from his cigarette, the bitter tang of nicotine filling his mouth and lungs, the familiar drug like a soothing, pleasant salve against his troubled mind.

Still, he had to admit, it was nice not to have to pack up his meagre belongings every two days to fuck off to God knows where. Shigaraki had almost seemed possessed in his relentless, inexorable fervor, making them flit in a desultory manner from one location to another, trying to shake off some invisible tail only he could see. That sort of paranoia had been there for a while now, if not from the very beginning, ever since his dearest Sensei had landed himself in Tartarus, yes, but it seemed to be getting worse of late, especially after Overhaul’s failed attempt to escape. There was some wisdom in constantly staying on the road, of course. Dabi could give him that. Considering their widespread infamy - the smartest thing they could do was lay low. But even Dabi could admit he much preferred some semblance of stability that a single hideout could bring. Even if it were only temporary.

Now that he had the time to think on it, the bar hadn’t been that bad. Even now he’d sometimes catch himself lingering wistfully on the memories of those days, especially when sitting on cold floors or half destroyed furniture they'd pulled out of a garbage heap, wondering how to best spend the night. As much as he'd hate to tip off Hawks that they'd now found a stable place by keeping their delightful confabs confined to one city and as much as it amused him to make the number two hero fly all over the damn country to meet him — this was a much more preferable alternative.

A weak, barely audible whimper sounded behind him, breaking him out of his brief rumination, and the villain sighed again, crushing his cigarette against the metal railing and carelessly tossing it over the other side; not sparing it a second glance as he turned back to face the dark bedroom obscured by stained, milky, and torn curtains, and the form lying strewn across the bed within it. 

The frail body barely twitched as he stepped back into the adumbral surroundings, reeking of nicotine and burnt flesh and only worsening the unpleasant stench of sickness hanging over the place. Barely made a sound as he slowly sank onto the edge of the springy mattress, his worried, turquoise eyes following the lines of pale, almost ghostly, and clammy skin, travelling over long slender legs and a lean, but severely emaciated, bruised and scarred torso, and finally stopping on the sleeper’s face, the villain’s expression hard and unreadable.

Princess had still yet to wake after their most recent move, the travel having completely worn him out. Dabi supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Poor thing had yet to truly convalesce from his illness. Had barely been given the time, or chance to. It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t died on them yet. The yakuza had truly proven to be stronger than any of them had ever expected.

Despite Ujiko’s bleak prognosis…

Another, long sigh left the villain’s lips.

To tell the truth, despite all the time that had passed since that fateful night out in the storm, Princess wasn’t getting any better. Granted, he wasn’t getting any worse either. He wasn’t coughing up blood anymore at the very least, and his fever had gone down from the scorching levels it had been stuck at for the past few days. But that offered Dabi little relief, if any. So what if he was no longer boiling alive? So what if he was no longer vomiting up his own guts? He was still so overwhelmingly weak… Delirious. Barely conscious of the world and people surrounding him. He hardly struggled against him whenever Dabi chose to embrace him anymore, the villain enhancing his own body heat to chase the incessant chills plaguing his toy away. A few times he even called him Chrono. It had already been three weeks with little to no improvement, and needless to say the others had begun to notice.

A long, frustrated breath left scarred lips, turquoise eyes softening in an expression that could almost be called sorrowful, rough, singed fingertips reaching out and gently carding through filthy brown locks. Softly tousling them. Playing with the silver streaks now interspersed among them, the white strands having gradually appeared over almost a year of continued, unending stress.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you, Princess?"

There was no answer to his quiet inquiry, but he hadn’t really been expecting any in the first place, the villain stooping down and gently gathering up the frail body into his arms, slowly shuffling his way towards the half ajar door leading to the bathroom.

Shigaraki had made no efforts to hide his desire to dispose of Overhaul before, but now he was practically demanding it. Despite disagreeing with the sentiment, vehemently, it was not difficult for Dabi to see why. The League had gleaned everything they possibly could from Overhaul. Every little secret the yakuza had sneakily tried to keep to himself concerning his project had successfully been extracted after months of torture. The bullets were now in Ujiko’s possession, the mad scientist doing his best to reverse engineer the quirk they’d been created from. Or some shit like that, Dabi had, admittedly, been only half listening to the scientist's crazed spiel. And now the yakuza was so sick. Really no more than a walking corpse. A dead weight lugging behind, slowing them all down. It only made sense for the League to cut him loose. To discard him like the useless trash he was. Just another body left in the dusty wake of their ambitions to change the world order.

And yet… And yet…

For some bizarre, unfathomable reason… Dabi didn’t want to let him go.

The shower was relatively clean, at least when compared to the many hovels they had stayed at before. Shifting Kai to one arm, he reached out, swiftly turning the knobs and letting the water flow, testing its temperature against the unburnt skin of his palm, the tepid liquid almost as soothing against his more recent burns as the wind had been, his flames still somehow painful against the grafts. Damn, he really should refrain from burning anyone for a while, even if they were all but asking for it like those low life thugs had been. Otherwise he’d be ashes long before his flames could even touch Endeavor.

His lip curled in anger at the thought, fingers digging painfully into Kai’s skin until a faint whimper finally broke him out of his brief, dark and vengeful thoughts, eyes flickering downwards to the body clasped tightly within his grasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Princess." He murmured, his grip immediately slackening as dazed, tearful eyes of molten gold stared up at him in what seemed to be accusation, dim and barely focused, but already alight with terror. "I didn't mean it. I was just getting a shower going for the two of us. How does that sound, hm? You'd like that wouldn't you? I'm sure you feel filthy. Poor thing." Without even waiting for a response, he was already kneeling, gently settling Kai on the toilet, softly steadying him as the armless man immediately swayed where he sat the second he was let go, clearly off balance in his delirium, and quickly stripping, movements quick and crisp. Avoiding catching on his staples with a practiced ease he'd cultivated over years.

The last thing he needed was to irritate them as well.

Kai was still shaking when Dabi turned around to pick him up once more, but he presumed it was because of the lingering fever, the villain's palm pressing against the yakuza’s sweat slicked forehead, tongue clicking in displeasure at the still prominent heat he felt there.

"Damn. Still running a temperature. I'd thought you’d’ve lost it by now." He murmured, and the yakuza only shook that much harder at his words, a low whimper leaving his lips as the other man sighed, dragging a scarred hand down his face before leaning down and gathering him up into his embrace, one arm hooking behind Kai’s knees while the other curled around his back in a bridal hold, pressing him securely against Dabi’s scarred chest. "Shhh, it's ok. Nothing medicine can't fix, right? At least it’s not as high as it was yesterday, hm?"

He chuckled as if they’d just shared some kind of joke, before promptly stepping under the warm spray.

A shrill scream of utter terror ripped itself from Kai's lips the moment he felt the droplets touch his skin, and he twisted within Dabi’s grasp as if he were suddenly being stabbed, desperately trying to escape the water suddenly cascading around them.

Memories of that terrifying night flashed uncontrollably before the yakuza's eyes: the cold. Thunder and lightning. Water all around. Surrounding him. Suffocating him. Leaving him no room for escape. No place to hide. He couldn’t breathe. It was forcing its way down into his lungs, his chest heaving, burning, rising and falling in quick succession—

Filth. He was surrounded by filth. It was inside him, infecting him, taking root like a weed that he wouldn't be able to rip out. It was going to kill him. It meant to kill him. He knew it did. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t breathe! He had to breathe! It was killing him and there was absolutely nothing he could do to escape it. He had to escape it! Had to reach Pops! Hari! Where were they?! He had to find them! He needed them…

"Kai. Kai!"

Only vaguely was he aware that there was a voice shouting in his ear now. That hands were curled around his shoulders, shaking him. Only dimly did he realize that he was sitting in a warm lap, the sounds of falling water still seeming deafening despite the blood pounding frantically in his ears. A choked, strangled sound of utter fright left his lips against his wishes, bordering on a sob, as warm palms came up to cradle his face, framing it between them, thumbs swiping lightly over sharp cheekbones, wiping away salty tears. A soft murmur reached his ears through the cacophony of falling water and the screams of his own panicked mind and he forced himself to look up, glistening, horrified golden eyes meeting calm, steady turquoise.

"There you are. That's it. Come back to me now, Princess. It's over. I've got ya." Dabi was saying, his deep voice a low, soothing rumble, impossibly calm and gentle. Bordering on concerned. "I've got ya."

Letting out another quiet, hiccuping sob, Kai let himself be pulled into a warm embrace even though more than anything he longed to escape it, stumps scrabbling against Dabi’s shoulders for purchase, eyes slowly sliding shut as the villain continued to murmur soft comfort in his ear, hand caressing soothingly up and down his trembling spine. He barely flinched as rough, scarred lips pressed with almost mocking gentleness against his temple, Dabi lightly rocking him almost as if he were a frightened child in need of calming, his breath hot and unpleasant against Kai’s skin, leaving a trail of hives in its wake.

But thankfully, mercifully, the villain seemed to remain oblivious to his obvious disgust.

A soft hum left the man's lips as the yakuza’s sobs gradually faded into nothing, replaced by the occasional cough, sniffle, and sharp intake of breath. Kai hated how his body seemed to yield so easily to him now. How he seemed to almost crave the comfort he knew was fake. How his desperation for any scrap of affection, any sign that someone cared only seemed to trap him further and further in Dabi’s clawed grasp; the villain's grip tightening around him like a noose he was aware of, and yet could not escape. Cruelty would’ve been far easier to stomach. Easier to deal with. Hatred. Even death. In fact, anything, everything, was better when compared to the insidious hold Dabi seemed to have over him, twisting his own mind until Kai felt like he couldn’t even trust his thoughts anymore. Trapping him within the unseen, elaborate prison of his own damaged psyche.

He shouldn’t feel comforted by the embrace. Shouldn’t crave Dabi’s touch, the sensation of his fingers against his skin. Shouldn't want to hear his soothing voice, listen to the quiet praise being whispered in his ear. Dabi had hurt him. Had helped destroy his world. Steal everything Kai had ever held dear in his life. His project. His arms. His men. The Hassaikai. Pops… And yet here he was. Shaking within Dabi’s grasp. Listening to the soft comfort being so freely offered to him. Letting himself be poisoned by the sweet nectar of false affection and promises, his own mind and body betraying him, turning on him, leaving him stranded and confused, wondering if there was any scrap left of his own sanity.

Something brushed against his lips and suddenly there was a warm mouth being pressed against his own, encasing it, calloused fingers gently carding through his soaked hair, curling, not letting him pull away. A strangled, undignified sound left his chest as a warm tongue wriggled past his teeth, brushing against the roof of his mouth and tangling with his own, pulling a soft gasp from his throat. Shock swirled within him, clashing with the existing haze of sickness and delirium, and he could practically feel his grip on consciousness slipping away, pouring past his fingers much like the water still cascading around them, leaving him only more confused and exhausted by the end of it. Blackness started to edge his vision, his illness and recent exertion finally catching up to him, and he didn't even fully realize what had just occurred nor notice when Dabi finally pulled away, licking his lips, his turquoise eyes hooded and heavy as he surveyed Kai’s naked form.

The villain murmured something then, but his voice suddenly seemed so far away that Chisaki could not tell what was being said. The world swam uncontrollably before his eyes, and it was all he could do to remain conscious, to remain awake, clinging tightly onto Dabi’s shoulders as much as he was able, as if afraid that if he let go, even for a moment, he would fall.

Only dimly was he aware that he was being touched, the hands previously cradling him close now exploring his body. Down his face, his shoulders, trailing to the near nonexistent curve of his bare chest and the dip of his waist, groping at exposed skin wherever they went. Simply didn't have enough presence of mind to protest as the touches trailed ever lower, kneeding at his rear and the back of his thighs, exploring every inch of his emaciated form. Didn't receive a single warning as a bloom of sudden, inconceivable and alien feeling shot through his system like an electrical shock, making him arch sharply against the body holding him, panting heavily into Dabi’s shoulder as the touch traveled downwards and between his legs, grabbing onto something there, though he was far too delirious to tell what. All he could do was focus on the powerful sensations wracking his form, the heat and strength radiating from the other villain's form, a comforting, solid pillar he desperately clutched onto, steadying his world as the movement between his inner thighs only brought forth even more bursts of pleasure he could not hope to define.

The shower surrounding them suddenly became nauseating, the colors too bright, their surroundings too brittle, swimming before his eyes in uncontrollable, dizzying patterns, and he quickly shut it out, burying his face in Dabi’s neck, a short, fragile and trembling cry leaving his lips as he squirmed in the man's lap, hips bucking, as if trying to escape the other's grasp and yet at the same time chasing after it. It was too much, too much, and he couldn't handle it. Felt like he was being mercilessly rent apart at the seams, as if he were suddenly being torn in two, and simultaneously put together again. And the feeling seemed to build. Build and build until he could no longer hope to contain it, making him feel like he was about to explode. And when he finally did, his scream was so shrill it seemed to pierce the very fabric of space surrounding them, bouncing off the the shower walls and echoing in his ears long after it was all over, something warm, far thicker and stickier than the stream falling from above, trickling down his legs, bile, bitter and nauseating, treating to escape his throat.

Then things were uncomfortable. Things were painful, a sharp burn radiating up his spine until he was whimpering into the burnt flesh of Dabi’s chest, the villain murmuring something soft against his ear, lips brushing and nipping gently on his earlobe as the hips beneath him began to move, making Kai even more nauseous and disoriented with the rough, rocking motions. No matter how much he mewled, how much he cried, there was no reprieve from the indescribable sensations being forced upon him. No release from this bizarre, alien torment he had never before experienced, Dabi not answering his wordless pleas, the light press of rough, burnt lips against his temple by far the only acknowledgement of his suffering. Gradually however, the physical pain disappeared, replaced by the same, scorching pleasure from before, but the emotional hurt remained, burning him from the inside out, as if Dabi’s very flames were now inside him, burning him from the inside out, turning his very soul to ashes.

A low moan left Kai’s lips against his wishes, but he was too far gone to care, too far gone to be embarrassed, simply riding the waves of unknown pleasure being given to him from one to the other, soon reaching that peak that made the world around him turn so terribly bright and brittle and terrifying, a fragile, vibrant wail wringing from his chest and bouncing deafeningly off the shower walls.

What came after was a blur.

Kai barely remembered the moment the water was finally, mercifully, shut off, Dabi tenderly pulling his soaked form out of the shower stall and gently toweling him off, wrapping him in soft blankets. Was barely aware when they had exited the bathroom and he was set back onto a warm, plush bed, Dabi dutifully tucking the sheets around him. But he did remember with stark, terrifying clarity just how filthy he had felt in that moment, somehow far filthier than he'd ever felt in his life before, a single tear trickling sluggishly down his cheek before the sweet grip of unconsciousness claimed him once more.

Temporarily freeing him from the dark reality that was his existence.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"You're proposing… that we move them to the 3-A dorms?" Nezu was saying, a faint note of surprise pervading his normally so calm, so aloof voice, beady black eyes sharp as they scrutinized the man now standing before him. "I must confess, this comes as a surprise. What prompted this… idea of yours?"

"Several things." Aizawa said, breathing a heavy sigh, the chair scraping unpleasantly against the polished floor as he pulled it up to stand beside the Principal's desk, the hero settling wearily upon it. Looking more exhausted than ever. "The first and most important of which is that we cannot hope for Chisaki's recovery if he is not immediately removed from that ward. I'm sure you realize that as well as I do. Not after what happened with Hawks. We promised Chisaki that while he was with us, at UA, that he would be safe from harm. And we broke that promise. Surely I'm not the only one who feels even a modicum of guilt for that?"

Nezu's gaze fell to his clasped paws, regret etched clearly into every line of his animal face. 

"It burdens me every day that we allowed this to happen to Kai Chisaki." He admitted at last, his voice full of remorse. "And that we had no better options to defend him from the HPSC. The guilt and responsibility for what I allowed to transpire that day will never leave me. You can be certain of that."

Aizawa nodded in wordless agreement, leaning forward slightly in his seat. When he spoke again his voice was soft, quiet, but firm. "That is precisely why it is our job now to make up for that failure, and regain the lost trust by giving him a new safe space that he can be sure has even less chance of being invaded. Where he will be protected from harm. The students have not failed him yet. He has no reason to mistrust them. It is my hope that by placing him in the hands of Midoriya, Bakugo and the rest of 3-A we will be taking an important and positive step forwards toward healing."

Nezu's gaze became thoughtful, claw tips tapping gently against the shiny surface of his desk. "It is not a bad idea, I will confess, but that does not make it any less difficult to implement. Since you've come to me, you have already spoken to your colleagues and the students about this, I presume?"

Aizawa nodded.

"The other professors have their concerns about security, as it is only natural. They want to make sure we take all necessary precautions to ensure the safety of the students, and many think that this relocation would be taking a step too far in terms of risk. If we are to move Kai Chisaki and his associate, Hari Kurono, they want an outside lock on their bedroom and a strict curfew they would have to adhere to. Unless in case of emergency. Alarms on both door and window of their apartments are to be placed to ensure that there are no attempts to escape or harm anyone during the night. Both are to wear ankle monitors and quirk canceling cuffs - the whole deal." He said, dark eyes never leaving Nezu's. "The students of 3-A will, naturally, have to be instructed to take common additional security measures of their own. They will be required to lock their doors at night, limit any nightly wanderings to a minimum, and keep any potentially dangerous possessions that can be weaponized out of sight. It was also Midnight's suggestion that we inform the parents of this, and Vlad King professed his own desire to alert his class to their potential new neighbors. Both measures that I found unnecessary and dangerous given what we're trying to do here."

"It was our original consensus that no one outside UA, especially the parents, were to learn of Chisaki ever being in our custody. For his safety, and the success of the mission to locate and imprison the League of Villains. Furthermore, it is my strong belief that my class is more than capable of handling them both, if it comes to it. At least long enough for the pro heroes to reach them." A brief, vaguely proud expression flickered over the hero's face. There and gone within seconds, the man forcefully schooling his features back into a blank expression. "Lastly, I do not believe either Chisaki nor Kurono intend to bring anyone harm. If they had, they would've done so by now, and we have ample evidence that Chisaki at least is currently not physically or emotionally able to be a true threat to anyone. The only danger the two of them truly present is to themselves."

"Because of that, don't you think it might be dangerous to leave them alone?" Nezu asked, his voice grave. "Don't you think we should consider…"

"A double suicide?" Aizawa finished, his voice bitter. Nezu nodded.

"It is not outside the realm of possibility. If Chisaki were to find another method and opportunity to end his life, we are unlikely to reach him in time. And from what I've heard from Recovery Girl, he and Kurono are remarkably close. Their relationship might even be constituted as romantic. If Chisaki were to die - we would lose Kurono as well. And I don't much like the idea of playing with either of their lives."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Aizawa said, arms crossing over his chest, back leaning against the chair he was seated in. "I've spoken to Recovery Girl about the matter. While Chisaki still expresses the desire to die, she says that Kurono seems determined to save him. He won't let Chisaki slip through his fingers. Not easily anyway. There is currently no reason for us to fear double suicide. Or a mercy kill for that matter."

"All Might of course offered to take them into his own houses. He's convinced they're just as secure as UA, if not more just due to the anonymity they offer. And if something happens - he can handle it. Injured and retired or no, he was still the country's number one hero for over thirty years. I assured him that that was not necessary, however. We've already decided that UA is our best option, and moving Chisaki to All Might’s, besides putting us at risk of being discovered, will bring its own slew of logistical problems."

Nezu inclined his head.

"With that, I'm disposed to agree." He stated, his voice thoughtful. "It is indeed a generous offer on All Might’s part, but it is an impractical one at best. As to the concerns of our esteemed colleagues - their reservations about this plan are reasonable ones, yes, and I'm sure they can be easily resolved through compromise." The Principal's face was contemplative as he said this, and Aizawa felt relief flood his heart at the sight, silently glad that man had not outright refused his proposal, and was instead mulling over it. "And the students? What is their opinion on the matter?"

"They're eager to help. Of course." The hero sighed, rubbing a hand against his chin in exhaustion, his stubble scratchy and unpleasant against his skin. "But I don't think they quite realize what kind of responsibility they're agreeing to. Not yet at least. There are so many things that they will have to change about their lives and themselves if we are to go through with this. So many harsh realities of life that they will be exposed to, having been shielded from the majority of them for most of their lives. I will, of course, have to make it very clear to them that this is not a game. That this isn't training. That there are very real lives at stake here. If they still agree, then we will start working on getting them ready. They will all have to be introduced to Chisaki one by one, so that he is familiar and comfortable with all the people he'll be surrounded by. Which will require a lot of work in and of itself as they will be required to learn his boundaries, what makes him uncomfortable, so that they may avoid accidentally upsetting him or making him feel unsafe. The last thing we need is to keep triggering his trauma. Moreover, they'll have to reach some kind of agreement with Kurono - which will be even more challenging if he decides to be difficult." 

The corners of Aizawa's mouth dipped downwards in disapproval, the hero clearly expecting the latter. It didn't need to be said that Kurono would very much dislike the idea of sharing one roof with a class of heroes in training. Staying within the school was bad enough as it were.

"They will all have to have a refresher course in first aid in case there's another… emergency. With Chisaki staying at the dorms, Recovery Girl will not be able to reach him as quickly if he were to make another attempt on his own life. They will have to take over some of her responsibilities, conform to his schedule and needs, make sure he's following the regimen prescribed to him - something tells me Kurono will need all the help he can get with that, whether he wants to admit it or not. It will be difficult, undoubtedly, but they are future heroes. This is what their life would've been in a few years anyway. Nothing is going to be easy in their lives from here on out, but they knowingly signed up for that the minute they decided to get into UA…"

Nezu uttered a low, thoughtful hum.

"And if I were to agree to this… venture, where do you propose we place them?"

"I've already thought of that." Aizawa replied, his face expressionless, giving nothing away. "There's a free room on the fourth floor, right next to Bakugo’s, that they can take. I've already asked Cementoss if he could enlarge it, so that it may house two people comfortably. It is my belief that Chisaki will be comforted by Bakugo’s proximity, given how, up until now, he's been playing a pivotal role in his emotional recovery. It is my hope that he will feel safer, and more secure, if Katsuki were near. I would've considered housing him near Midoriya as well, but unfortunately, considering the already established housing arrangements, that doesn't seem possible."

"Is Bakugo himself up for it?" Nezu asked gently, his concern obvious. "Considering what happened during his last visit… it was my understanding that the poor boy was deeply shaken by what he had witnessed. Are you sure it's wise to lay the responsibility of caring for Kai Chisaki back on his shoulders so soon after such a harrowing event?"

"I think it would be more upsetting to try and keep Chisaki away from him." Aizawa replied, equally quiet. "I'm certain he blames himself for not doing more to prevent Chisaki's suicide attempt, much like Midoriya does."

Nezu nodded his concession.

"Furthermore," the hero continued, "There is some strategic logic in placing him on the fourth. The group of students housed there is largely comprised of the heaviest hitters in my class. Kirishima, Shouji, Bakugo, Uraraka and Ashido - all exceptionally strong quirks. If there were any sort of attack — they would provide adequate protection until the pro heroes had the chance to step in. On a smaller note, it's also worth taking into account that the distance from the ground floor should be a comfort to the two as well. If the League were to try something, they would have to go through two whole floors of highly trained future heroes before finally being able to reach them. That should, hopefully, at least put Kurono Hari at ease."

"You've really considered everything." Nezu commented, his tone vaguely amused, but not at all mean-spirited. "Have you indeed finally found your resolve to help Kai Chisaki?"

A heavy breath left Aizawa’s lips. A long moment of silence passed between them, but when he finally spoke again his voice was firm, leaving no room for debate or any lingering doubts as to his determination.

"That man hurt my daughter, Nezu." He whispered, eyes down-cast, his throat flexing in a heavy swallow. "And I will never forgive him for that, just like Eri will never forget the trauma he’d dealt her. But, at the end of the day, I am a hero, and I will do my job to save those in need, even if it hurts me. I will not allow myself to be a puppet to my anger and resentment. After all," a faint, brief smirk flickered over his face. There and gone within seconds, "that would be irrational."

For the first time in the duration of their conversation, a small smile stretched across Nezu’s lips, the Principal inclining his head in agreement.

"It would be indeed."

Turning back to the papers stacked neatly on the edge of his desk, Nezu began to rifle through them, his beady black eyes focused on his work, yet his words obviously still addressing his guest as he spoke. "I must confess - I am not at all opposed to the idea of transferring Kai Chisaki to the 3-A dorms. In fact, considering our circumstances, it might turn out to be a very prudent and shrewd course of action. And it may very well be the best decision we can make right now. However, there are still many details that must be discussed before we move forward with this plan."

"Firstly, this matter will have to be consulted in full with Recovery Girl. As of right now, it is quite clear that Chisaki is in no physical state to be moved without us putting his health in serious danger. He will need to be given time to rest and recuperate as much as possible before we attempt to relocate him. Not only that, but the state of his mental health is also of the utmost concern for us. It is my belief that it’s best if he is left alone for the time being, with only Hari Kurono and perhaps Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya as his company. Overwhelming him with new acquaintances will no doubt cause him immense stress. We do not want to crowd him while he is so fragile. Peace and quiet are the best remedies for a troubled mind, I have found, and though I cannot be certain it will be the same for Chisaki, I do think it’s best that we give him some breathing room."

"Secondly, I will have to summon a staff meeting to discuss this and hear all concerns that our colleagues may have. It is our duty to take all possible safety precautions to ensure the wellbeing of both our students, and Chisaki and Kurono. What specific measures we'll end up taking will no doubt have to be a compromise, however, as I have already mentioned. Kurono Hari is our guest here, not our prisoner, despite his beliefs, and we must not make him feel unwelcome, or worse yet - threatened. We do not want him to believe that we do not have their best interests at heart and compel him to try to flee with Chisaki to another location, where we will not be able to provide them with adequate protection. So, whatever measures we will wish to enact - Kurono will have to agree to them of his own accord."

"As for Midnight, I find her suggestion to bear some weight. Insofar as we are selective about who we tell, and inform those who are most likely to contribute and provide additional security. Telling the parents, given how sensitive this information is and risking it being leaked to the press and the world at large, thus putting Chisaki's life and the lives of our students in grave danger would be unwise. As we have already discussed. However, I would be remiss if I did not at least reach out to Endeavor about our operations. Given his son's avid desire to be involved, and his status as the number one hero - I believe it would be a mistake to continue keeping him out of the loop."

Aizawa shot the Principal a long look.

"You must understand he will be furious. He will take grave offense that we had not informed him sooner and had put his son's life at possible risk."

Nezu nodded. "He will be, and I believe it will be a valid criticism on his part. But better late than never. With the rising threat of the League of Villains, he was bound to get involved eventually. If nothing else, we can be certain that Enji Todoroki is a man of great integrity. He will take this matter seriously, and aid us in any way he can - I am certain of it."

Aizawa shook his head. "I just hope he will not demand that Chisaki be immediately removed from UA premises, and put in the custody of the police or HPSC."

Nezu's gaze hardened. 

"Chisaki will never be handed to the Commission. As I have promised." He reaffirmed, his voice final and full of certainty. Leaving no room for doubt. "I will ensure that Endeavor knows that keeping Chisaki at UA is the best possible course of action. You can trust me on that."

The Principal's phone, containing the recording they had taken, seemed to almost glint ominously in the sunlight pouring through the giant windows.

"And Vlad King?" Aizawa asked at last, returning to their original conversation.

Nezu sighed.

"I see no reason to inform the other classes that there are former villains taking shelter among them for the reasons that we have already discussed." He said, voice almost sounding weary. "I will make that clear to him. Meanwhile, you should make sure your students are prepared for the responsibility they are about to take on. It will be a long and difficult road to recovery for Kai Chisaki. But it is my hope that it will end with our victory over this League of Villains. Once and for all."

Just then there was a quiet on the door, and the two men turned in their seats, facing the newcomer that had just stepped into the now silent room. 

All Might stood in the shadowed entrance of the Principal's office, hand clutching his phone in a white knuckled grip, face unusually pallid.

"I've just got off the phone with Gran Torino." He said, voice so faint that they had to strain their ears to hear him.

"They have captured Kurogiri."

Chapter Text

"Deku!" 

The overjoyed shout rang through the expanse of the warmly lit living room the moment he creaked open the apartment door, and he barely had a moment to brace himself before suddenly — his arms were encircling a small, gray haired little girl, the hero easily lifting her from her feet and twirling her around, mouth stretching into a wide grin at the joyful cries of laughter that immediately spilled from the child's lips. 

"Eri!" Izuku gushed warmly, chest flooding with happiness as the 9 year old wriggled giddily in his arms, tiny body practically vibrating with the force of her joy and her unbridled, boundless energy. "You've grown so much! You're getting so big!" He grunted comically, bending over with a groan, pretending it was suddenly hard to hold her, and Eri squealed excitedly in his arms, tiny hands waving with exuberance as he gently set her down; the student immediately coming to kneel down on one knee before her.

"I thought you weren't going to visit us anytime soon." The girl said, hands coming up to nervously wring together and tug on the front of her cat print t-shirt — a nervous tic that even 3 years later she still struggled to get rid of. "Miri said you were busy and out of town. Did something happen?"

Spewing blood flashed across his vision. The dull shine of a metal shard lying discarded across the floor of the tiny ward, one end caked in crimson. Golden eyes glaring at him. Glistening with so much pain. So much fear. Familiar face twisted, drenched in tears, showing so much deep anguish. So much desperation and longing for death, for his suffering to finally come to an end. Filled with so much hate.

"Finish what you started!.. Kill me! Put me out of my goddamn misery, you..!"

"Deku?" 

The voice broke him out of the dark flashback he'd unintentionally, briefly fallen into and he looked up, green eyes instantly meeting concerned crimson.

Eri's tiny face now wore a worried frown, her fingers tugging gently on his own, much larger ones. 

"Are you ok?"

Quickly schooling his features into something he hoped was halfway cheerful, smile wavering at the corners, Deku reached out, gently stroking her silver hair, soothing the child's concern. 

"I'm fine, Eri." He said, his voice shaking imperceptibly against his best efforts, the hero trying his very best to conceal it. "I'm just a little tired. That's all." It wasn't necessarily a lie, but the child didn't seem all that convinced either, and so he quickly changed the subject, hands clenching together in his lap, nails digging deep into his skin; the pain helping ground him.

The last thing he needed right now was to lose control in front of her.

"Anyway, how was school?"

Face immediately brightening, the girl ran off, soon returning with her school textbooks, voice already prattling off about all the exciting new things they were learning about now. From what he'd heard, Math wasn't her favorite, and with that at least Izuku could sympathize, but she was a bright little thing, and seemed to excel in almost every other subject that came her way. Especially so if it happened to interest her.

Deku was ashamed to say that he was only half listening to her, however, his sudden exhaustion overwhelming him, but he tried to pay attention to the best of his ability anyway, asking appropriate questions at the right intervals and laughing alongside her. She seemed to be getting along well with her classmates, and that heartened him slightly. He'd been worried that after at least a year in Chisaki's… care she'd have trouble socializing, getting along with others. She'd spent so much time living in isolation, after all, without friends, without anyone of her own age to talk to. So much time thinking that she was unlovable, her very existence a curse, a burden onto others. An ever present danger. A ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

And for a while it had been that way. Had been difficult. There'd only been a handful of people Eri had trusted, consisting mostly of the very same people who had saved her that terrible day. Her dependency on them had been so great during those first few months, in fact, that she'd been afraid to stay long on her own, following them like a lost little duckling from room to room, holding onto their sleeves and jumping and cringing away from every shadow, as if expecting Overhaul to suddenly leap out and snatch her.

It had broken Izuku's heart on more than one occasion to see her that way, and he had wished wholeheartedly that he could help her, could somehow magically make all her fears go away. But of course, it didn't work that way, such issues were never easily treated and never fully cured, and the moment she was released from the hospital Aizawa had found her a good therapist, hoping that immediately addressing the problem would help mitigate the fall-out and soften the blow on the poor child's psyche. It had been a wise decision to do so, looking back. Eri had had a hard time acclimating to her new reality, and even now she still sometimes woke crying soundlessly, thinking that in a few hours Overhaul's men would be coming through the doorway to drag her away to the latest experiment the villain had concocted for her. But the therapy had helped, especially when she'd been put into group. It was a sad reality that she was not the only child who'd ever been subjected to the cruelty of adults who were supposed to protect them, but the company seemed to help her, and now she was progressing like any child her age should be, mentally and emotionally.

And yet some signs of her trauma would never fully go away. No matter how much time went by.

Eri showed him the latest pictures she'd drawn in art class, and even without looking at them too closely he could tell that some colors were still missing. The sun was white rather than gold. The roof of the house was more brown than the bright red kids usually used in their creations. The grass was teal. Purple was nowhere to be seen. Eri always seemed to put aside these particular colors, whether intentionally, or unconsciously, and Aizawa had simply started removing them for her, four crayons conveniently missing every time she opened a new box. It wasn't hard to tell why this happened. To guess why the girl had such a strong aversion towards the shades that most kids her age adored. Even if it brought the heroes no small amount of sadness to see it.

They were Overhaul's colors, after all.

"We're doing division now!" Eri was saying excitedly when he finally came back to himself, showing him her scribbled notes and the columns of dividing numbers. "It's so fun! Miss Todoroki always says that we must first look at the… the den… denem—"

"Denominator." Izuku supplied, a smile stretching across his lips as Eri nodded excitedly, head bobbing almost comically in her eagerness.

"Yes! Denonitator! Miss Todoroki says we should always check first if it's a zero, because you can never divide by zero!"

Well, you can, it just means the function is heading towards infinity, Izuku's calculus traumatized brain supplied, but he held it to himself, stifling laughter at the exaggerated pride in the girl's voice as she said this. Instead, he stroked her hair in approval and Eri’s grin grew that much wider, the child leaning into the affection so freely offered to her.

"That's exactly right." He confirmed, smiling widely. "Good job, Eri."

Eri beamed at him happily and reached for her other books, starting to flip through them, excited to show what else she'd learned while he'd been away. Watching her now, how happy she looked, how healthy… he couldn’t help but take note of the difference between her and the scared, traumatized child he'd met three years ago. She'd been so thin back then, as light as a feather in his arms, her bones peaking through abnormally pale skin that had seemingly never been touched by sunlight. He still remembered how she'd clutched onto him for support, in that alleyway. How she'd begged him for salvation, for protection from the looming monster stalking her in the shadows. Remembered how she'd cried, begging Overhaul to let them live, promising she'd come back to him in return. Willingly give herself over to the jaws of the beast just so that these strangers who'd tried to help her could live. Even back then her kindness had known no bounds. Despite being in such a horrific position, being tormented every single day, Eri had been able to retain her humanity, hold onto everything that made her the kind, pure individual she was now.

But would she show this very kindness now? To the same person who had hurt her so much? Could it even be called kindness for her to forgive her abuser? Or even let someone else help the very person who'd brought her so much pain? Someone who was close to her? Someone who'd… saved her from that very same man three years ago? Or would it be an insidious thing to do so? To even ask for? Like a continuation of her abuse. Validation of the horror that had happened to her. 

Was even hoping that Eri would forgive him for helping Chisaki somehow malicious too? Entitled? Arrogant? Wouldn't it be better if he just… just let her hate?

"Deku, is something wrong?" Eri's voice briefly broke him out of his dark rumination, and he looked up, emerald eyes meeting her searching, ruby gaze. She had stopped mid-ramble and he could see the notebook she now held in her fingers fall limp, pages showing scribbles of a flower, arrows highlighting the plant's different components.

Her round face was still so innocent as it looked at him. Even while displaying concern. Even when showing emotions and thoughts that most kids her age were still too young to show. It reminded him of how adult she could sometimes be. How, unlike her classmates, she'd been forced to grow up early, adapt to situations no child should ever find themselves in.

And he had to put her in that position again. Had to tell her that Chisaki was still alive. That he was hurt. That he needed help. Needed to be saved just like she'd once been. That Deku was the one who was going to save him. But how was he supposed to tell her? How was he supposed to break what little peace she'd regained over the last 3 years? How was he meant to just take that calmness, that sense of safety and security, and rip it away from her? Rob her of it, just like Chisaki had when she'd been 6?

How was he supposed to look her in the eyes… and tell her that her abuser needed help?

He just couldn't do it. Couldn’t watch that sweet face darken in despair, see those red eyes, so innocent, so bright, well with tears once more. Couldn’t be the one to worsen her trauma. To tear down what little progress she'd made since her rescue. 

Eventually he would have to… but not today. Not so soon.

"Nothing, Eri." He said, shaking his head, gagging the lingering anguish and guilt and shoving it all to the back of his mind - where it all belonged. "I just can't believe how much you've grown since the last time I've seen you."

The girl looked away, her expression becoming somehow bashful as she fiddled with the Science notebook in her hands, flipping through the pages of neat, colorful notes as if in a sudden effort to distract herself, Izuku catching a brief glimpse of the new Kanji Mirio had no doubt taught her. 

"We had a career day in school yesterday." She admitted quietly, as if she were somehow unsure of how this news would be received, her eyes remaining downturned. As if suddenly reluctant to look at him. "They asked us who we wanted to be when we grow up."

Izuku hummed encouragingly, fingers reaching out and gently carding through her silver hair, the touch reassuring, giving her the confidence to continue. "And? What did you say? Who do you wanna be when you grow up?"

Eri finally looked up, her lips stretching in a wide grin, cheeks flushing with innocent pride and joy.

"I said I wanted to be a hero! So I can save people just like you!"

Izuku's heart fell, and it was all he could do to keep his own smile from wavering, hands shaking as Eri lunged forward to hug him tight, head nuzzling affectionately into his chest. 

Somewhere the universe was laughing at him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The photo he held in his hands was old and tattered, but he still remembered the day it had been taken like it was yesterday. It was one of the only personal objects they had permitted him in prison, the only comfort he had during those cold, lonely days in prison. He'd almost lost it several times, when other inmates had tried to rip it from his fingers, steal it from beneath his pillow, from whatever other nooks and crannies he'd managed to find to hide his only treasure.

There was a jagged rip in the middle, messily taped together with yellow scotch, marring the perfection of the image, from where it had nearly been pulled out of his grip by a gang of thugs unworthy of breathing in the same air Kai did.

It was a picture of him and Kai and Pops, on their first day of school. Even in the stillness of the photo Kai looked distinctly uncomfortable, in his shiny new suit, fiddling with the cufflinks of his sleeve. Hari still remembered how unusually bashful his new friend had been that day, face flushed red where it wasn't hidden by a black mask. It was the first time, but not the last that he'd seen Kai so openly embarrassed, the boy gently tugging on Pops' yukata, voice quiet and tentative as he protested the new uniform he'd been bought. Even back then Chisaki had been frugal about money, found it difficult to receive gifts, always battling the urge to give them back.

It was a curse all street kids seemed to share. The unfortunate knowledge of just how precious money could be. 

He remembered how Pops had laughed, the oyabun softly ruffling chestnut locks to soothe the child's concerns and simply telling him to enjoy it, this was his day after all. Remembered how the man had herded them both outside and positioned them in front of a camera, looking more proud and happy than either of the boys had ever seen him. And finally, he remembered just how happy he, too, had felt in that moment, realizing that he was starting a new chapter in his life and that for once… for once… he had someone else to share it with.

But now the image brought him more pain than comfort. It was a bitter reminder of the distant, happy past they could never hope to go back to. And more than anything in his life Hari wished that they could go back. Back to the way things were. Before the League and the heroes. Before Overhaul.

Before Eri.

The soft plopping sounds of droplets and the wet spots appearing on the black and white surface of the old photo brought him back, made him realize that he was crying. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it, somehow missed the sudden onslaught of tears he could not hope to hold back. 

"Kai." He whispered, his voice sounding cracked and broken as he put the photo away, barely more than a whisper. "Kai, please look at me."

But Kai barely budged from where he was lying with his back turned stubbornly towards him, refusing to answer his soft calls. Acting almost as if he didn't exist, as if Hari were but a figment of imagination. A mistake of the light. But Hari knew that Kai was awake. That he was aware of his proximity. He just didn't want to speak to him. Or even look at him. Once he'd woken and realized that he was alive, that Hari was one of the people keeping him that way, keeping him breathing against his will — Kai had shut him out. Just like he did everyone else. It was the only form of protest he could implement in his fragile, immobile state, feeble as it was. And it was working.

Reaching out to brush his fingers against Kai’s shoulders, Hari's hand jerked away when the man recoiled violently from his touch, inching even farther away from him, untied arms wrapping around his bony form, fingers grabbing fistfuls of flimsy clothing. More than anything in the world Hari wanted for Kai to just look at him. Whether with hate or anger — it didn’t matter. He just wanted to see his companion's face again.

"I had to save you, Kai." He said, and his voice sounded pitifully pleading even to his own ears, the man barely able to conceal how truly distraught he was as it were. "I couldn't lose you a second time."

"I didn't want to be saved." Chisaki's vocals for the first time in hours sounded across the room, hoarse and gravely, still slurred from sedation. "I have no wish to live, how does no one understand that?"

The words were flat, almost monotone, as he said this. But also shockingly bitter. And for a moment Hari was taken back to a time before all of this, when a masked individual had sat opposite him in the yakuza's underground facilities, clad in a green bomber jacket.

This was Overhaul's voice. A pitch that Chisaki only used when he was angry. Very angry. He'd only heard it directed at him once in his life. When… when they'd fought over what Kai had done to Pops.

"Kai…" Hari said and his voice cracked, betraying him, making him fall silent. What could he really say in this situation, after all? How could he put into words how important Chisaki was to him? How much he needed him? How he couldn’t imagine living without him? How he'd probably only end up dying himself shortly after him, unable to stand the thought of continuing on without Kai at his side? He'd already tried once… but the guards had pulled him out of the noose before he could suffocate and he'd spent months naked in a barren solitary cell, not even allowed the simplest of accommodations due to the risk of them being used in another attempt.

Truth be told, he understood Kai really well. Had felt the same way when he’d not been permitted to pass peacefully, forced to exist in the cruel reality that had been crafted for him. Trapped in a cage of his own consequences, his psyche only able to handle so much before he cracked. If circumstances were different, Hari probably would've been able to handle prison. Maybe would've even thrived in it. Come into contact with old associates and garnered special favors. But Chisaki's disappearance and presumed murder had broken the camel's back, brought Hari to the very brink of no return.

If it weren't for Tsukauchi and his proposal, the news of Chisaki's survival, Hari probably would've found another way out. Wouldn't have lived more than another few months. He was certain of it.

He wasn't sure what made the next words spill from his lips. He'd never uttered them since that rainy night after Pops was put in a coma. To anyone. Not even to himself. But something drew them from his chest now, some strong pull. As if, if he didn't say it now — he would never be given the chance to do so again.

"Kai, I love you." He said, his voice trembling, throat flexing in a heavy swallow. "I love you… and that night, in the rain, you'd told me you loved me too, remember? Told me that you'd given all your love to me. Tell me, does that… does that really no longer count for anything?"

Chisaki didn’t answer him for a long time. Hari watched his back tense, legs twitching and slowly curling inwards, the man bracing himself for what was going to be said next, whatever that might be. But nothing could protect him from the blunt, cold honesty of Kai's reply.

"Not anymore."

Some part of him had expected this answer, and yet still it felt like a sucker punch to the chest, knocking all breath from his chest and leaving him gasping for air. For a split second he was brought back to that fateful night, the real starting point of when their lives had finally started to go downhill.

The hydrangea gardens were dark when Hari finally gathered the courage to venture outside. Rain was pouring heavily from the pitch black heavens swirling overhead, as if the very universe were weeping at what it had witnessed tonight, the horror and the brutality of it, as well as the utter tragedy. For a moment, he stood motionless beneath the downpour, the black umbrella, so fitting of their circumstances, shielding him from the worst of the heavy shower crashing from above. But the raging storm wasn't what held his focus. His eyes seemed drawn to the drops glistening upon the petals of the flowers Pops had loved so much, the man as if suddenly riveted by the beautiful and yet melancholy sight.

If he didn't know better… he'd almost mistake them for teardrops, the nature surrounding him mirroring the hail of sorrow still raging inside, pain and grief wrapping its claws of savage cruelty around his heart. As if, in just another second — it would squeeze all remaining life out of him.

If there was still life for him to lose.

Chisaki was waiting for him in the gazebo, and if Hari looked closely, he'd say the other looked almost anxious as he stood out there, even if he'd appear stoic to others. But he knew better. Could see Kai fiddling with the sleeves of the simple black dress shirt he wore, a telltale sign that something was bothering him. Something was making him nervous.

Hari just wished that he hadn’t known what that something was.

Kai's head snapped towards him the moment Hari stepped from the stone path and onto the wet hardwood floor, golden eyes watching silently as the other man ducked beneath the shelter the gazebo roof provided, shaking off the wet umbrella and setting it aside, a hard, deep blue gaze fixing upon him.

"You came."

The words were spoken in Kai’s usual emotionless monotone, and yet Hari still caught the faint notes of relief within it, his lips thinning in response, edges curling downwards in a dark frown.

"I almost didn't."

He wasn't sure if the harshness of his response had actually made Chisaki flinch. The world surrounding them was growing darker by the second as evening fell and the storm progressed, distant rolls of thunder growing louder and louder as the minutes steadily went by. Nevertheless, it seemed to have succeeded in making Kai even more uncomfortable, if the way he pinched his sleeve was any indication.

When he spoke again, the familiar baritone was quiet. Almost tentative.

"Do you hate me?"

That was a difficult question for him to answer. Hari couldn't stop the sigh that slipped past his lips if he tried, leaning against the ornate balustrade behind him, heedless of the water soaking into his clothes.

Right now it mattered little.

"No."

Surprising as it was, he didn't. It had taken him a while to realize that fact, much less come to terms with it. He could never hate Kai. Not truly. They'd been friends since they were 5. Had practically been joined at the hip all their lives. Gotten into so many shenanigans and, admittedly, illegal activities later in life that Hari had lost count. There was no one else in the world whom he trusted and cared about as much as Kai. But that wasn't to say he wasn't still angry. Because he was. Very. Even though it had been hours since they'd fought.

Kai's shoulders sagged visibly in relief, and he sighed, one finger hooking on the black mask he wore, pulling it down and exposing his face to the dim lights shining from the nearby patio. Even so, Hari knew that the other was still aware of his simmering fury. How could he not be, when he was practically broadcasting it with his body language and tone? He'd never gotten as good as Kai had at hiding his true feelings, but right now that somehow mattered little. He wanted his anger to be felt. Wanted Chisaki to acknowledge the full horror of what he'd just done.

And judging by Kai's next words, the man received that message loud and clear.

"I had to do it, Hari. For the good of the Hassaikai."

There was no apology in there anywhere, but then again he hadn’t really expected there to be one either, the pain from before choking his throat, threatening to overwhelm him as he forced himself to look away.

"I know."

"He wouldn't have let us save the organization otherwise. He wasn't thinking rationally. This is our chance to bring the yakuza back to glory! We could—"

"I know."

He hadn’t meant to snap, but he must've been angrier than he'd thought, temples pulsing with pain even as he reached up to rub it away. Chisaki fell silent, the pitter patter of rain by far the only sounds breaking the heavy silence between them, his golden gaze, suddenly so unsure, so almost innocent and child-like in its tentativeness, never leaving Hari's exposed face. And after a while Hari finally spoke, his voice much gentler and quieter this time around.

"He was our father, Kai. I just… I just need some time."

It was the bare minimum he could ask for. To be given some time to process, to grieve, to mourn the loss of the only parental figure he'd known after the murder of his parents at the hands of heroes. Kai had to give him that much, at least.

"I'll bring him back, Hari. When the time is right. I promise."

And he believed him. How could he not? Kai had never lied to him in his life. Had always told him the truth, no matter how brutal that truth may turn out to be. Hari had no doubts that he would bring Pops back. Chisaki had ambitions, yes, but in those ambitions their father had somehow always been alive and well and in charge of the yakuza. His position was one that Kai had never wanted to usurp. Until he had been pushed to it by Pops' obstinate refusal to hear out their plans.

Breathing a heavy sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, gaze falling to the rain-streaked floor between them, watching the rain droplets gather on the edges of the gazebo and trickle down out of sight. 

"What are we going to do now?"

Kai let out an equal heavy breath, striding forward until he was standing right before him, their faces a mere few inches apart.

"Hari, do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course I do. But—"

The quick, chaste press of lips against his made Hari fall silent, his eyes blown wide as Kai swiftly pulled away, looking bashful, but his gaze nevertheless calm and steady as he peered deep into his eyes, confident. He couldn’t stop himself from sputtering in shock if he tried, fingers losing their grip upon the balustrade, making him stagger. It was true that he'd been harboring feelings for Chisaki for a while, but he'd never thought that—

"Kai… what—"

"Trust me." Kai said, and if Hari didn't know better, he'd say the other almost seemed amused, even as he reached up with one ungloved hand to Overhaul the hives that had instantly bloomed across his face away. "I'll get us through this. I'll make sure we reach the world we both envisioned. Can't you already see it, Hari? A world without quirks. In which no child will ever lose their parents to a quirk awakening. Never be used, be experimented on by those hungry for domination. In which there are no heroes to abuse their positions all the while parading around as paragons of virtue. Bragging in front of cameras as if they're somehow special when most of their time is spent whoring away, drinking, assaulting and killing others in dirty alleyways just because they feel like it. Like your parents. A world in which the yakuza are rightfully in control, as they have in history, as they always had been in Pops' stories that we heard as children. Can't you see it all, Hari?"

And he could see it. Could glimpse the shining future within the bright depths of Chisaki's golden eyes, the imagined world lying right at their fingertips, begging to be turned into reality. A world with no more heroes to drag them down. No more villains to besmirch the much more honorable profession of the yakuza. In which society was completely cleansed and allowed to progress as it should have before the rise of quirks. They could have it all. Could have the lives that both of them had always wanted. Ones that they'd been entitled to that were robbed from them unjustly.

Hari had deserved to grow up in a peaceful home, never harassed needlessly by corrupt, prejudiced police. Had deserved to have his parents accompany him for the entire duration of his life, instead of watching their bodies be pulled out of the gutter at a young age. And Kai… Kai had always deserved a life without a disease that had made him a murderer before he was even 5. Had always deserved to never know torture, never know experimentation, never experience first hand what it was like to have half his face mutilated by those who were supposed to protect him, but instead chose to exploit him. He’d deserved to never know the hardships of street life. Of violence. Of murder. 

Quirks were no blessings in their eyes. Never had been. All they brought was rot and degradation, and all of it was happening in the open, before their very eyes. Quirks were an infection that had to be erased. A virus gripping this civilization that desperately needed a vaccine. And the two of them had the power to stop it all. Eri would be the very last in this vicious cycle, there was no doubt about it. A necessary sacrifice for the good of all the rest. What would she suffer that millions of souls before her hadn’t already suffered? What made her such a high price that others were unwilling to pay? How could Pops not have seen it? Seen how they could fix it all?

Before he even knew what he was doing, or could stop himself from acting on impulse, he was pulling Kai into another kiss, their lips crashing ruthlessly together, teeth clashing, tongues trying to twine. He expected to be overhauled. Expected Kai to reach out and turn him to red mist for daring to touch him this way, soil him, trigger his mysophobia. But the pain never arrived. Instead, he was pulled even closer, Kai’s inexperience as clear as day even as he responded to the kiss with equal enthusiasm, puffing out cold evening air when they finally parted from each other. For a moment Hari mourned the darkness surrounding them. He would've given anything to see the flush on Kai's cheeks now, the no doubt now rosy color of his lips. But that feeling was soon chased away as Kai looked at him, his eyes shining in the deep shadows that had fallen around them, the storm deafening, but now somehow seeming far less violent.

"I love you." He whispered, the confession almost dying on his lips. He'd realized he'd loved him a long time ago. There was no denying what he felt for Kai, no running from the emotions keeping him chained to the man's side. As much as it had broken his heart, not even Pops' loss had been able to dispel that affection, to break the strong bond he felt between them. "I trust you to do this right."

A soft hand cupped his cheek, thumb swiping over the soft skin there, before slowly trailing upwards, gently carding through silver hair and pulling him down until their foreheads were pressed against each other, golden staring into dark blue.

"I give all my love to you." Kai murmured, Hari practically reading the words on his lips as thunder rolled overhead, a brief flash of lightning throwing their faces into sharp focus before plunging them both into darkness once more. "And when all of this is over… perhaps we'll make it official."

But they never got the chance to. Because just a year later — they would be betrayed and raided by heroes, Hari arrested with all the others and Kai… Kai publicly declared dead. 

Oh, how he'd missed him… all those years in solitary. How he wished he'd be able to join him when he was stabbed in the gut, or when he was tying the sheets into a suitable noose. And now… now after so much torment, he finally had him back. Alive. And yet… Kai still remained so far out of his reach. Lost to him. Hari desperate and clueless on how to get him back.

How had it all gone so wrong? At what point did their lives turn for the worst? Become a nightmare? Was that night out in the gazebo the night this cruel fate been set in stone for them? Or had it been planned for them from the start? Had they always been destined to end up this way? Had there really been nothing they could've possibly done to change it? Or was it really their poor choices that had landed them here? In this disaster. Their dreams lost forever. Their lives ruined seemingly beyond repair. How could they possibly hope to move past this? To survive? It all just suddenly seemed so… impossible. And he…

He really missed Kai. The old Kai. The one who was impenetrable. Invincible. All powerful. Who always knew what to do. Always had a plan. Always knew how to move forward even in the most desperate of situations. But that Kai was gone forever and so was he. And all that was left of them were empty shells, cracked and broken by anguish and despair. On the brink of crumbling into dust.

For the first time in his life — Hari was standing all alone, with no one to support him. No one to act like his pillar. Never before had he felt so powerless as he did in that moment, caught in his despair. How could Mirio have expected him to be someone Kai could lean on? When he himself was but a mass of broken pieces? A mere shadow of the yakuza lieutenant he'd used to be. Neither he nor Kai had any facade left to hide behind. No fake identity to cling to in hopes that it would suppress all that was human and help them get through this. Overhaul and Chronostasis no longer existed. All that was left was Kai and Hari. Two broken men with broken dreams. And they had no one. No one but each other. And no one else.

Not even their father.

Their lives, as they had known them, were over. Gone forever. And all that was left were bitter memories and pain.

How could these heroes expect them to heal and start anew?

Kai struggled violently as he was pulled into a warm embrace, Hari easily lifting him and clambering into bed with him, settling the struggling yakuza in his lap even as the latter hissed and thrashed and sank his teeth into his arms, his resistance ultimately fruitless as he soon submitted to his weakness and fever, collapsing limply against Kurono's chest. And when the man carded his fingers through chestnut hair - the tears finally came, Chisaki burying his face into his partner's neck, returning the hug, body shaking with the force of his ragged sobs. His bandaged arm, the very one he'd cut open just a few days ago, curled around Hari's shoulders to pull him even closer, and he obliged him, wrapping his own securely around Kai's body, as if silently promising to never let him go. Not again. 

Yes, they were broken men. With no dreams, or aspirations to look forward to. No family and no future to really live for. Stripped utterly bare of the identities they had so painstakingly built over the years, left stranded all alone in a desert of anguish and despair with no support and no strong will to help sustain them. They only had each other left, but would that really be enough to convince them to keep living? Would their affection really turn out to be that strong?

Deep down, Hari hoped it would.

Chapter Text

Rain drummed outside the window, the sound of it constant, rhythmic, bordering on soothing. Shigaraki wished he could say he hated it. Wished he could say he despised it as much as he despised everything else in this wretched world, distorted by heroism. Wished he could say he was at least annoyed by it, but truth be told he didn’t mind it much at all. Instead, it helped his mind focus, soothed his rampant thoughts, cleared his vision of all that was irrelevant until he could see the entire picture, have a clear view of where to head to next.

His first intentional murder had happened in the rain, now that he thought about it. He still remembered it as clear as day, even now, so many years later. Remembered the thick film of dust that had coated his fingers, the panicked look in the thugs' eyes. One that reminded him of another, similar expression of fear, but on a completely different, even more loathsome face. The way they had both crumbled as if they were nothing, their blood splashing to the wet ground, mixing with the filthy water spilling ceaselessly from above. Their last words, wrought with terror, being suddenly cut short, suddenly interrupted by death. The way the itch had suddenly disappeared, vanished into thin air as if it'd never even existed, just like how Sensei had said it would, as he stood over the remnants of the thugs that had dared to cross him, staring at the hands that had been left behind. 

That they simply no longer needed.

The music of the game was a welcome compliment to the soothing drumming of the downpour outside. Crimson eyes watched the character move across the screen, the bright flashes and elaborate movements flickering across his vision as he employed this attack and that, destroying the enemies popping up at random. Despite his sharp focus on the game set before him, however, his mind was already far away, centered on far more important, far more real issues at hand, the clicking of buttons and pitter pattering of raindrops against the window pane becoming distant, almost inaudible.

Ujiko was growing more and more insolent by the day, much less enthused to keep supplying them. It wasn't difficult to guess why, it had been more than a year since the League had made any significant movements, the public having almost completely forgotten about them as a result, lulling itself back into the false sense of security it had been entrenched in for decades. Like the herd of sheep it really was. In fact, the last time they'd participated in anything major was when that yakuza had approached them with an unfair, skewed deal. And they all knew how that had ended.

A sneer pulled at his lips, yellowed teeth glinting in the low light of the cheap lantern they'd managed to procure, red eyes narrowing behind the mask of Father's hand.

It had been satisfying to make the yakuza suffer at first, that much was true. Was still satisfying, really. He wasn't going to lie, it always brought him vicious satisfaction to feel Chisaki's bones shatter beneath his feet, snap beneath his weight like twigs, to grind his soles into twisted joints and revel in every whine and shriek his cruel beating elicited. To see the tears glistening in those arrogant, haughty eyes, watch the terror and despair and hopelessness eat the man's soul alive. But it was quickly growing into a pointless affair, even Shigaraki could admit that. Just a way to vent emotion, a pastime, the yakuza no more than a punching bag reserved for getting all anger, frustration and aggression out on now as he failed to come up with any new plans. Any new ways to keep them moving forward.

Spinner's enraged face flashed before his eyes.

Yes… his teammates were quickly becoming restless. Rudderless. Swiftly losing faith. They could tell he had no plan with which to keep them moving forward. That he did not even possess a clear goal besides the wish to turn the entire world to dust, shatter the facade of false heroism, and bring everything down to its knees. 

Destroy everything that had given birth to that house. And everything that had stemmed from it. 

The question that was bothering them all now was how they were to ever reach that vision. To turn these destructive desires into reality. With Sensei arrested. With Ujiko growing increasingly unwilling to provide any aid and advice. It was all up to Shigaraki to keep them moving now. To formulate a plan. Set the direction. Think of the methods with which to reach their objective. As much as it chafed at him to actually admit it.

A goal with no plan is only just a wish…

The shattering of ceramic broke the oppressive silence hanging over the dimly lit room, crimson eyes blinking as he was abruptly snapped back to reality. There were shards strewn over the floor, light glancing off the sharp edges — by far the only remnants of the mug that had been standing atop the table mere moments ago. Grimacing, Shigaraki scratched at the side of his neck, thumb instinctively clicking on the pause button of his console, the man staring out into space.

As infuriating as it was to admit it, Overhaul had been correct in his assessment. Shigaraki had no plans to move forward with, his goal indeed no more than a wish, a sweet daydream, a delusion to indulge in. It would not come to fruition if he made no actual, tangible moves to turn it into reality. If he continued to sit on his ass, lounging in one hideout or another, waiting for something crucial to happen. But what else was he supposed to do? Dabi was already busy sweet talking the bird, and was successful at it considering they had let the hero into their hideouts on more than one occasion, had even let him play with their pet. And given the fact that they were broke, and unmotivated, he could not hope to start building a proper army with the way the League was right now. Hawks was probably the best they could and would be able to procure for a while in terms of new members. So then, the primary problem seemed to be the money. The influence. The resources Ujiko would not provide them. That they then had to procure on their own to prove to the miserable little scientist that they were still serious about their intentions.

But at the same time it seemed to go deeper than that, didn't it? Their entire operation seemed to be warped at the very roots. The ideology that had initially brought these people to him was starting to come apart at the seams, he could feel it. They may be professing their loyalty to him now, but that would not hold out the longer this went on. Would not be enough to keep them chained to him forever. Not at this stage. Not yet. They wanted more. They needed more. Stain's ideology that he had initially appropriated for himself was simply no longer enough. Dabi was an excellent example of that. But Spinner would still be the first to go.

And he could not accept that.

Fury bubbled forth once more as he remembered the Hero Killer's wretched face, the arrogance in his words, the cold dismissal of all of Shigaraki’s words and intentions. It was annoying, but Stain had been right in his analysis too. But, much like Chisaki, he had failed in his intentions as well. While his rival was still here. Still free. Still able to make a real difference. Shigaraki could learn from him. Learn from them both, in fact. Where they had failed he would succeed. All he needed was money. People. And time.

Cutting some loose ends would already be a great start…

Footsteps sounded down the darkened hallway, and he looked up, crimson eyes narrowing as Dabi’s form slowly came into view, the bright flash of lightning briefly dancing off the man's staples, bringing them into sudden, sharp focus.

"I thought I'd told you to get rid of him."

His grating, crude excuse for a greeting, rang through the expanse of the cramped kitchen area of the penthouse as Dabi fully stepped into the dimly lit room, Shigaraki’s malicious, blood red eyes immediately fixating upon him, barely visible through the stiff, dead fingers of Father.

He didn't need to specify who he was talking about. Knew Dabi understood immediately what he meant. There was only one person he'd ordered the patchwork villain to get rid of, an order that the man was still failing to follow through with. It was time to put an end to this strange defiance. Squash it out. Finally reclaim the assertive role.

"He's no longer of any use to us. Get rid of him. There's no point in keeping him in our inventory to take up space and drain our resources."

Dabi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he could practically taste the stubborn reluctance and displeasure rolling off the other's form in waves, see the defiance etched in every grotesque line of his comrade's face. Out of everyone in the League, Dabi was perhaps the most difficult to deal with, to command, but he was also the one to get the best results. The one Shigaraki could depend on the most. If he would just stop wandering off so much of the time.

"Oh, I wouldn't agree with that." Dabi rasped, his sharp turquoise gaze regarding his boss coolly as he pulled up a bar stool to sit down next to him, singed fingertips already digging into his pockets in search of a cigarette. Shigaraki’s fingers clenched around the game console, knuckles somehow turning even whiter in his controlled rage. If something like that were even possible with the already unhealthy pallor permanently plaguing his complexion.

"Oh?"

A brief, unpleasant smirk played at the corners of Dabi’s mismatched lips. 

"You'd be surprised just how many… hidden properties an asset may have. Even if it seems he has nothing left to give, he may still prove useful."

Shigaraki’s contemptuous sneer was invisible, but oh so very palpable.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to lose your toy. Do you really think we haven’t heard what happened yesterday? The walls are paper thin, and your pet wasn't exactly being quiet."

Dabi didn’t even have the decency to flush in shame, instead, a slow, amused and self satisfied smirk stretching across his grotesquely disfigured face. Pulling on his staples. Seemingly almost ripping them from their roots with the force of his Cheshire grin.

"You were listening then? And you're still complaining? Damn, that's sad."

The game went dark with an ominous, final click, Shigaraki setting it down on the counter before him with more force than necessary, with a quiet, threatening clunk.

As a part of the League, his family, he could not dust Dabi. But he could remind him who the boss was. Who really called the shots around here.

"Give me one reason, Dabi." He hissed, voice dark and menacingly low, serious, eyes no more than narrow, crimson slits glaring at him from behind Father's fingers. "One reason as to why I shouldn't walk in there and dust him right here, right now."

Dabi hummed, unbothered, though now with some tension in his shoulders as he lit up the cigarette with his thumb and took a long, luxurious drag, a stream of smoke escaping scarred lips as he exhaled.

"Is a possible weapon against the heroes a good enough reason for you?"

That instantly grabbed Shigaraki’s attention, the man turning to face his companion fully, concealed features darkening in a suspicious, ugly scowl.

"What weapon? We already have the bullets, Ujiko is working on them now. What are you talking about, spit it out. I'm in no mood for extra side quests unless they're actually worth my time."

"Oh, where's the fun in that?" Dabi replied, his taunting smirk much more prominent now as he flicked the ashes off his cheap cigarette, heedless and uncaring of where they landed. "Besides, it's only a thought at this stage anyway, nothing really concrete, but promising far reaching consequences already. If we play it right that is."

"So you want me to keep him around for an idea." Shigaraki summarized, his voice no more than a low, derisive and mocking sneer, chapped lips curling behind the mask of his father’s dead, disembodied hand. "And not even a plan to show for it?"

Dabi shot him a sideways glance, his piercing turquoise eyes glinting in the low light with some hidden thought, some silent consideration, his fingers bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another drag. "Starting to sound a little like someone we know, don't you think so, boss?"

But before Shigaraki could retaliate, his lean form bristling with indignation and rage, Dabi was already turning towards him, malicious mischief evident in every line of his form. Dancing in that turquoise gaze.

"How would you feel about giving Overhaul his arms back?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Chisaki didn’t want to see him.

The words hardly seemed real, even when uttered by Recovery Girl's apologetic voice. Even when accompanied by her sad, sympathetic gaze and comforting squeeze to his shoulder.

Chisaki didn’t want to see him.

That was the message he had been receiving every single day for the past week while lingering outside the doorway to the nurse's office, hoping to be granted permission to step inside. The books he'd brought and schoolwork he'd hoped Kai would enjoy doing were left outside, untouched. Rejected.

Chisaki didn’t want to see him.

Even Bakugo hadn't had any better luck than Deku had. Chisaki didn’t seem eager to speak to him either, giving them both the cold shoulder, isolating himself within the small ward. Recovery Girl had said that she'd tried to talk to him, implore him to give the two of them a chance, to hear what they had to say — but each time he had refused her. He didn't want to see anyone. And especially not them.

The nurse had said that he probably felt ashamed. Humiliated. Embarrassed. That he was angry, not so much at them, but rather at himself. For still being alive. For failing to die. Failing to liberate them all of his own existence. Said that he was terrified. Scared of what the future might hold for him now that they had refused him the deliverance of death, dooming him to, in his mind, once again someday find himself in the League's filthy grasp.

It tore at Izuku's heart to hear those things. To know that Chisaki really felt that way, that he no longer trusted them to keep him safe and be completely unable to tell him that all of it wasn't true. To tell him that he was never a burden. That he would never, ever end up back in the hands of the League. That he would never again be harmed by them. That neither Deku, nor Bakugo would ever allow it, only over their dead bodies. But more than anything else, he wished he could tell Chisaki he was sorry. Sorry for letting Hawks near him. Sorry for letting Kai be questioned when he was only just starting to gather the courage to recover and heal. To learn to live again. Tell him that he was the one who'd failed him. Tell him that he should've been there. Should've protected him. Made sure that Chisaki had never felt like suicide was his only option, his only way out.

He had failed him. When he’d promised him not to.

He could see the effects the constant rejection was having on Kacchan too. Witness the way it hurt him. If it hadn't been clear to their classmates before, that something was up, it certainly would've been obvious now.

Just like Chisaki had withdrawn from them, so had Bakugo withdrawn into himself. He was no longer the loud, brash presence the class had known him to be for the last three years. Instead, he was quiet. Subdued. Barely speaking to anyone. Staring blankly, dully into his notes, barely lifting his head, mindlessly writing down what was dictated to them. Even Kirishima and Kaminari could barely lift his spirits, barely prompt him into conversation.

Mr Aizawa had noticed the change as well, because of course he did. Asked Bakugo to see him after class, only for his request to be ignored entirely as the boy left the moment the bell rang anyway, slamming the door behind him so loudly it froze everyone who was still inside. They didn't notice how loud he'd used to be, how much they'd grown used to his outbursts until they were entirely deprived of them, the evenings in their dormitory becoming too quiet, simply too hollow, drained of their usual energy and laughter generated by Bakugo’s mere presence. It was... unnatural not to hear insults echoing down hallways, along with sounds of squabble. So strange not to be addressed with crude nicknames every single day. So bizarre not to see the boy sprawled over the couches in their shared common room, feet propped up on the nearest glass table, complaining obnoxiously about one thing or other — his spot on the pillows now uncomfortably empty, now entirely void of his presence.

Deku had lost count of how many times they had stood outside Bakugo’s door, asking, begging him to come out and join them. How many times they'd simply sat outside it, hoping that he could at least hear them, that this way — he'd know he wasn't alone. That he wasn’t the only one dealing with all this. Chisaki's attempted suicide weighed down heavily upon all of them, even those who hadn't known him from either three years ago, or the last several months. They were all horrified by what had been done to him. All distraught by the realization that death was now more preferable to him than life. Despite his past — nobody deserved to suffer this way, nobody could call this true justice. Nobody could derive any satisfaction from this, from knowing how much he'd been tortured, assaulted, humiliated and systematically broken down until he was but a mess of shards of the person he used to be, his soul shattered to the point that the only peace he could truly envision for himself was the sweet embrace of nothingness, of death. That the idea of simply not existing, of simply being erased from existence entirely was more comforting to him than actually living.

The thought that he'd possibly done this to protect them from himself, that he was so disgusted, so dismayed, saw himself as nothing but a disease, a curse, a magnet for the League and thus a danger to them all — was simply unbearable. Impossible to linger on because of all the pain it brought them.

There was a stack of books Momo had brought out and left in their common room, centered around trauma. Some of which Deku had read in his desire to help, some that he hadn’t seen before. Textbooks about ptsd and self help books, their class notes about suicide prevention and conflict deescalation, advice on how to handle trauma in all its forms — whatever was possible to find on the subject, Yaoyorozu brought it all out for them to share. None of them knew if it would genuinely help them. They were heroes, not trained professionals. Their knowledge of how to handle victims of violence was fairly limited, only enough to guide them through deescalating a situation and talking someone out of potential suicide, buying just enough time until the real professionals and medical personnel could have a chance to get there. They had no delusions about their abilities and qualifications. Mere compassion would not resolve all of Chisaki's trauma. They all knew how sensitive this matter really was. How utterly unequipped they were. Realized all too clearly just how difficult it would be for them to help Chisaki, that no amount of reading would suddenly give them all the tools they lacked. That they were still essentially children, naive and inexperienced and blind to the horrors of the world, despite everything they'd gone through. But… despite that, they wanted to try. Wanted to try to help him. In any way they could.

It was… indescribable to see this unity. To see them all sitting in the dorm common rooms, or outside Bakugo’s door, Yaoyorozu pouring over the notes she'd made — her usual solution to any problem — the others gathered around her, listening intently. To hear about how Uraraka and Tsuyu had talked to Recovery Girl, asking her questions, inquiring about Chisaki's health, begging her for advice. How Iida had taken charge, taken it upon himself to organize them all after they'd learned how Chisaki would eventually be moved into their dorms, setting ground rules for them all to follow, especially for Kaminari and Ashido, perhaps the loudest and most uninhibited in their group — the behavior of whom Chisaki was unlikely to appreciate. Hear Todoroki quietly, almost tentatively mention his mother, suggest what had worked for her and what had helped her in hopes that it would help the yakuza too.

But despite it all, Bakugo still failed to join them. Only seemed to isolate himself even more, to the point he'd started missing class, causing concern and worry. And yet… Deku could understand why he was behaving this way. Why he chose to lock himself away from the others, to hide. Understood because he'd already seen this sort of behavior before, if perhaps on a smaller scale three years ago, after Kamino Ward.

Bakugo blamed himself for Chisaki's attempt.

It wasn't difficult to guess why, to follow the boy's thought process. If he had just ignored All Might, if he had just stormed into the ward and protected Chisaki, if he had just stood between him and Hawks and Tsukauchi, if he had just defended him from the barrage of invasive questions the yakuza was unprepared to answer — then Chisaki would be okay. Would feel protected, would know that all of their promises, all of their speeches and pledges had been true. That they hadn't just been empty words, slung around to temporarily provide him with a sense of safety. That they had meant every syllable of their promises, and that those promises they still intended to uphold.

Know that Bakugo’s speech had been true. Spoken from the heart. That it hadn't all been just pretty lies.

That he hadn’t meant to fail him…

Deku had found him sitting out in the corridor one night, just outside Recovery Girl's door. Hadn't spoken a word as he simply knelt down on the floor beside him, clasped hands settling atop bent knees. Remained silent even as the body beside him began to shake, tiny, barely audible sniffles leaving his classmates' form, the sounds of distress barely stifled by clenched teeth. Hadn't mentioned the dull shine of tears as they slid down that familiar face, glowing in the moonlight pouring through the adjacent window. 

His mere presence had spoken volumes on its own.

But despite the constant rejection and distress generated by it — they continued to ask to see Chisaki. Made it clear that they would never give up on him. Would never abandon him, even if he desperately wanted them to. Would continue to fight for him, just like they had promised. Show him that his life wasn't over. That he wasn’t a curse, or a burden that would be better off dead. That he wasn’t a toy for the League.

That he could still be saved.

All of which made the moment Kai finally agreed to see them all the more exhilarating. All the more joyful, as if a huge weight were suddenly removed from their shoulders, replaced by hope and relief.

They would not fail him again. They swore it. To Chisaki. And to themselves.

Chisaki was only willing to speak to one of them, however, more specifically Deku. Despite the disappointment this revelation brought to the entire class who had been hoping to finally meet him, and more specifically to Bakugo who had been particularly anxious to see him — it wasn't all that surprising. Chisaki was still very weak. Still struggling with illness. He probably wasn't yet well enough to have an extended conversation, emotionally or physically, or even have the energy to talk to several people at once. Izuku wouldn't be surprised if the limitation of one visitor was set by Recovery Girl as well. Chisaki's health and well-being took precedence over everything, she wouldn't let him do something if she thought it would somehow adversely affect him. And yet… it still made Deku anxious. Still made him swallow and fidget nervously outside the ward door, something cold sinking to the bottom of his stomach, some uncomfortable feeling. As if something bad was going to happen. Something deeply upsetting.

Like catching him trying to kill himself had been.

"You can see him another time, dear." Recovery Girl said softly beside him, as if sensing his hesitation, voice gentle and quiet in her concern. "He will understand. Both of you need some time to yourselves, to think, to calm down. There is no need to rush—"

"No. No, it's— it's all right." Deku assured her, a forced, weak smile of reassurance stretching across his face. "I'll— I'd like to see him now."

The nurse didn't seem to be convinced by those words, however. Stared at him for a split second, sadness and worry clashing upon her wisened, aged features, before she finally relented, bowing her head as she moved to open the ward door. "I just hope you know what you're doing, dearie… Chisaki? Midoriya is here to see you."

Swallowing nervously, Deku followed her inside.

A heavy stench of sickness hung over the tiny room, barely covered up with the smells of medicine and hospital antiseptic. Almost immediately he was assaulted with the many changes that had taken over in the short amount of time he hadn’t been here, his heart clenching within his chest at the lonely sight. The flowers Recovery Girl had brought to brighten up the place were now gone from the windowsill, most likely removed the moment Chisaki had gotten sick, their spaces depressingly empty. There were no books crowding every available space anymore, instead replaced with bottles of medicine and syringes, thermometers and other medical equipment. The purple fur blanket he and Bakugo had brought Chisaki as a gift was absent as well, leaving the familiar bed oddly small and colorless. The entire space now seemed far more depressing with these changes. Bare. Empty. Devoid of any color. Made something uncomfortable squirm inside his chest, his eyes burning with emotion he simply wasn't ready to address.

There was another, third person sitting there, beside Chisaki's bed when he entered. It took him a few seconds to recognize him, to realize who he was, steely blue eyes snapping upwards to greet him, narrowed in a dark glare.

So this must be Kurono Hari. Chronostasis. Chisaki’s childhood friend.

"What’s he doing here?" The voice was rough, deep and raspy from sleeplessness. Wrought with hostility. Almost immediately he was taken aback by the sheer anger within those vocals. The sheer hatred. "I thought you were supposed to keep these heroes away from us, what's he doing here?"

Deku flinched at the unfiltered aggression in Kurono's tone, almost backing away if it were not for Recovery Girl's gentle hand upon his arm, stilling him, putting him at ease. But before she could say anything in response, or reprimand the former villain for his rudeness another voice spoke up, low and sounding equally drained.

"He's here, because I asked to see him, Hari."

All three sets of eyes shot to the final, fourth person in the room.

Deku's heart clenched at the sight.

Kai looked far worse than when he’d seen him last. He was pale, so pale, the unhealthy pallor almost nauseating when compared to the healthy beige he had been steadily recovering, not even a hint of it left. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, an obvious product of many sleepless nights, the heavy bags like twin, blue bruises atop his sunken cheeks. He looked thinner too, as if he'd lost weight over the week that Deku had been absent, his collar bones much more prominent beneath his skin. But worst of all… worst of all was how disheveled he looked, how sick, unhappy, hopeless.

Not at all different from the first time Deku had seen him.

There was no joyous greeting in those golden eyes. No happiness at the prospect of seeing, or speaking to him again. There was only weariness. Weariness and a bone deep exhaustion, along with resignation.

Chisaki wasn’t happy to see him. That much was clear.

Kurono seemed to sense it too, because his hand clenched where it was curled comfortingly around Chisaki's fingers, his posture becoming defensive, body leaning forward, almost as if to put himself between the hero in training and Chisaki. Shield the injured villain from view.

"He doesn't want to see him." Hari said, his accusatory gaze falling to Recovery Girl, the villain acting as if Deku wasn't even there. "You pressured him into this. How difficult is it just to leave us be?"

"Hari." Chisaki whispered, the name a soft admonishment, before either Deku or Recovery Girl could react, his free hand lying atop Kurono's, squeezing weakly. "That's enough. I asked him to come here. Leave us."

The man looked back at him, visible reluctance and concern etched into every line of his face, blue eyes searching golden. As if asking a silent question.

Chisaki sighed again.

"Hari. Please."

Huffing a reluctant sigh, expression visibly crumbling at the pleading note in Chisaki's voice, Kurono obediently rose to his feet, pressing his lips against his boss’s temple in a quick, soft kiss; Deku trying his best not to gape in surprise at the unexpected display of tender affection.

"I'll be right outside." The man promised, making sure Chisaki's eyes met his before he left. Reassuring. "I'll be close."

Nodding silently, Chisaki watched his partner go, Deku barely ducking out of the way in time as Hari attempted to shoulder past him, Recovery Girl shooting him a silent look of apology as she hurried to follow him.

"You have ten minutes, Midoriya. He needs his rest."

If he didn't know better, he swore he almost heard a Good luck at the end of that sentence.

All too soon they were left alone, an uncomfortable silence falling between them. Unsure of what to say, his eyes dropped down and fell upon Chisaki's bandaged wrist, his throat feeling dry at the very sight of it. Making it difficult to swallow. Having apparently followed his gaze, Kai quickly tucked the injured limb out of sight, covering it with his healthy arm, shoulders squaring in a gesture that seemed almost… defensive.

Deku's heart clenched within his chest anew.

"Chisaki, I—"

But the yakuza was already turning away from him, reaching for something lying on the nearby nightstand, Deku's very soul shattering at the sight of it.

He knew that tattered novel. The same one he'd—

"I wanted to return this." Chisaki said, studiously avoiding his gaze, voice kept carefully controlled, even. Emotionless. "I no longer need it."

But Izuku did not reach out to take it.

"Chisaki…" He breathed, heartbreak making his chest go tight, making it hard for him to speak or draw breath. "Chisaki, I know you're scared, but…"

The book fell to the floor between them with a bang, sudden anger bleeding into every line of the yakuza's form. "Leave." Chisaki hissed, golden eyes glowing with the force of his rage, but it seemed… somehow forced. A facade. Hiding some other, far more powerful emotions behind it.

Fear. Agony. Heartbreak.

Hopelessness.

"I've said everything I had to say. Leave."

Izuku didn't budge from his spot.

"Chisaki, we can protect you."

A sneer, shaky and weak and bitter, curled at the corners of the yakuza's lips. "No one can protect me. You've already proven that."

"That's not true!" Deku insisted, stepping forward and Kai flinched away from his outstretched arm, hands fisting the fabric of his hospital blankets between them. Eyes burning, Izuku froze where he stood, not stepping further into the injured man's personal space. Reluctant to put him even more on edge. "The Principal has already dealt with Hawks — he won't be able to step one foot on UA grounds. He can't hurt you."

But Chisaki was already shaking his head in denial, the dull shine of building tears glistening at the corners of his eyes, thin shoulders starting to shake beneath the flimsy covering of his hospital gown. "If it's not him, it'll be someone else." He replied, his voice trembling and hoarse, barely concealing his distress. "They'll just send someone else. They'll take me back and there's nothing you'll be able to do to stop it. I should've died. You should've just let me die."

Deku's heart felt like it was breaking. Like it was slowly being torn apart, cut into with a sharp scalpel, rent into tiny pieces. There was so much fear in Chisaki's voice… so much despair. There was no doubt at all that he truly believed what he was saying. That he was genuinely certain that the League would be able to take him again. That this was but a temporary reprieve from torment.

"Chisaki, I promise you," He said, his own voice shaking with emotion, emerald eyes filling with tears, "I promise you we won't let them take you. We'll never let them lay their hands on you again—"

"And what good are your promises?" Chisaki snapped, his voice rising suddenly in volume, fueled by anger and distress. "You've already broken the ones you'd made. You'd told me that everything was going to be all right. You'd told me you were going to keep me safe. And you went back on those promises."

Trembling hands curled around Chisaki's head, the yakuza's body bending forward, curling in on itself, shaking uncontrollably. "I was a fool for believing you." Chisaki whispered and the words were like daggers to his heart, Izuku not even knowing how to respond, stunned into silence. "I should've known all this was too good to be true. Because I am a curse. I am a disease. I do bring pain to everyone around me. Misery follows me everywhere I go." A wet, hiccupping sob left the man's throat, tears now freely pouring down that thin face, no longer held back, whatever willpower Chisaki had managed to scrape together all but gone entirely.

"I'm better off dead. And you didn't let me die."

Before he even knew what he was doing, before he could stop himself from doing so, Deku was rushing forward, sinking down at the side of Chisaki's bed, hands wrapping around the man's shaking shoulders and green eyes searching, trying to meet the other's watery gaze.

"Chisaki, look at me." He said, trying his best to keep his voice steady. For Kai. For himself. For them both. "Please, just look at me."

Stifling a sob, the villain turned his head to meet his eyes, so much despair clear in those familiar features it was unbearable to witness. Made his soul ache anew. 

"I'm sorry we let him near you, Chisaki." He whispered, only now realizing that he himself was shaking uncontrollably from head to toe. "I'm sorry we let him hurt you. I'm sorry we let you down. I'm sorry we let you feel like you are a burden and a danger when you're not. I'm sorry you felt like death was the only way out for you." Swallowing, his fingers clenching around Chisaki's shoulders, he continued.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be better heroes for you."

Chisaki swallowed heavily, lips trembling as he looked at him, his shattered, broken eyes peering into Deku's own, red with tears. Izuku's fingers trailed down, gently taking his injured hand into his own, softly brushing over the bandages there.

"But I promise you… if you let us... we can do better. We will do better. We will protect you from the League. They'll never lay their hands on you again. Just… please give us another chance, Chisaki. That's all I ask."

But Chisaki only shook his head in silent refusal and pulled away. Buried his face in his arms and spoke no more.

Chapter Text

The car ride was silent and uncomfortable. All Might’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the repetitive motion nervous, on edge. Aizawa sat motionless beside him, staring into the distance, staring at nothing in particular, dark eyes locked on the gray, clouded late autumn sky hovering above them beyond the vehicle's windshield, watching the roiling, unpleasant panorama of the sea before them. Hizashi was uncomfortably silent where he was seated in the backseat as well, his chartreuse gaze unusually serious.

"We should be there soon." All Might said, just to break the uncomfortable silence that had long since fallen over the car, spinning the wheel as he smoothly turned a corner. "Tartarus shouldn't be too far from here."

Aizawa shot him a sideways glance, but said nothing. Yamada seemed to become even more restless, hands clenching and unclenching where they were laid across his lap, fiddling with each other. Letting out a heavy breath, All Might turned his attention back to the road in front of them, watching the reds and oranges of late autumn trees become blurs as they sped past. At last, Aizawa spoke, though he remained stubbornly turned away.

"How can they be sure it's really him?"

The question was a loaded one, made him hunch over the steering wheel, made him uncomfortable.

"DNA doesn't lie… whatever they were able to extract from him that is. The results were a match." All Might replied, quiet. Yamada shook his head behind them, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, shoulders tense.

"There's gotta be some mistake." He said, but his own voice sounded pleading and desperate to his ears. Imploring his words to turn out true. "It simply can't be him. We were there for his funeral. We were there for his cremation. We spoke to his parents for God's sake! He can't be a…" He wasn't able to finish the sentence, his mouth clamping shut, throat flexing in a heavy swallow.

A sad expression took over All Might’s face, not entirely under his control, and his fingers gripped the steering wheel that much tighter, sky blue eyes flickering to the rear view mirror and the despondent man reflected in it.

"All for One has very few scruples when it comes to what he sees as opportunities." He said at last, his voice doleful and grim. Condoling. "Whether it is stealing quirks, or even using bodies of the deceased for his nefarious goals. Much like a carrion bird he swoops in and picks off the corpses he deems useful, possessing no respect for his fellow man. I am… deeply sorry that you as well were harmed by his greed. I had hoped that I would be the one to finally put an end to the suffering he causes. But… I have failed you."

"Don't say that." Aizawa murmured beside him with a heavy sigh, fingers rubbing tense, firm circles into his aching forehead, the man already feeling the beginnings of a migraine. "You did your best, it's not your fault."

All Might looked away, his gaze falling upon the road in front of them, his body pulsing with phantom agony where his stomach and lung had used to be. Aizawa could say whatever he liked, of course. Could try to excuse his inability to eliminate All for One, rid the world of a great threat once and for all, but truth be told Yagi would simply never stop blaming himself for his failure. Would never stop cursing himself and his own weakness when he looked upon yet another evil AFO had done upon this world, when he saw yet more evidence of all the pain the deplorable man had caused.

Katsuki Bakugo’s terrified face back in Kamino flashed before his eyes. The horror he'd felt when he realized who Tomura Shigaraki really was. Remembered Chisaki Kai's tear streaked, anguished expression as he screamed desperately for his father… 

Yes… All for One was still spreading his evil across this world. Still causing pain and misery everywhere he went. Still breaking the lives of so many people. And it was all his fault…

"I'm sorry. Nana… sensei… I have failed you…"

"Yagi." Aizawa said beside him, snapping him out of his brief depressive rumination, All Might jumping in his seat at the sudden interjection of his thoughts. "Stop it."

Embarrassment coursed through him, his face flushing with color at being so easily read, and he looked away, clearing his throat, awkward. "Sorry."

"Even if it is him…" Mic interjected from where he was seated behind them and Aizawa shifted, just enough to be able to see his companion from the corner of his eye. "What do they expect us to do exactly, anyway? From what we've been able to gather, the Nomus can hardly be called living people, can they? They're nothing but puppets. Marionettes for All for One to control. Even if it is his body… it won't actually be… him… will it?"

All Might didn't reply for a long time, thinking. Yamada was right, of course. All research indicated that Nomus could hardly be called sentient, their bodies pumped full of so many quirks that their brains essentially ended up scrambled, became an incomprehensive mess. How would Kurogiri be any different? Even if he did appear to be more… "perfected" when compared to the other Nomus they had encountered so far? But still. It was worth a try. Worth attempting to get some answers as to what the League had been up to for the last three years.

Besides torturing Chisaki.

"It is unlikely that the nomu Kirogiri will bear any resemblance to Shirakumo, or even possess his memories." He agreed, apologetic. "But it is worth a try to let the two of you question him. Perhaps there are just enough bits of Shirakumo left to react to you. But even if he doesn't, we will at least get to speak with Kurogiri without fearing that he will use his warp quirk to escape, or otherwise cause mayhem. Perhaps get some answers as to what his masters had been up to all this time if we're lucky, though I highly doubt he will be so chatty."

"And perhaps get some answers concerning Kai Chisaki as well." Aizawa finished, onyx eyes briefly meeting All Might’s blue. "There had to be a reason as to why they kept him, besides entertainment and carnal pleasure. He was working on quirk erasing bullets, when we arrested him, wasn't he? And they went missing around the same time he did, so we can presume they were taken by the League as well. Which would mean that they now have that particular weapon in their arsenal, even if they have no access to Eri’s quirk. That's what Nezu said in his briefing back when we first took him into our custody anyway."

"That is correct." All Might confirmed, turning another corner, the bridge and Tartarus finally swimming into view, an imposing, dark silhouette on the stormy horizon. "But there could be more to it than that. The bullets on their own are useful enough despite the fact that they are in limited supply, true. But All for One was never much interested in erasing abilities. Instead, he has a particular proclivity for stealing them. A trait I am sure that his most loyal followers share."

The two heroes shot him a long look, twin expressions of confusion and alarm spreading across their faces. 

"You think… the League has stolen 'Overhaul'?" Mic asked, his loud, boisterous voice unusually hushed in his disbelief and horror. "But that's impossible. Absurd. They don't have the All for One quirk to pull such a feat off. Not to mention that the Central Hospital has stated that there is nothing wrong with Kai Chisaki's quirk, it is still present, and that he is just unable to utilize it due to trauma. How could they have stolen it?"

"How indeed." Toshinori murmured, his blue eyes hooded and expression grim. Distant. "All for One may be in our custody, but I dare say a lot of his followers are not. Just take a look at the Nomus we have encountered so far, including Kurogiri himself. Not only do they possess several quirks, but they are also genetically engineered to support and make use of those quirks in the most efficient way possible. A feat that All for One would not have been able to pull off on his own. He is a smart man, no doubt about it, but I have high doubts that he is capable of such sophisticated bio engineering. Not alone at least. He must have accomplices. Smart accomplices working in a variety of fields of study: medical, chemical, biological... you name it. People capable of carrying out his work even without his direct presence to guide them. People currently not in our custody, and that are most likely now serving the League as Tomura Shigaraki has been officially declared as his successor."

"A logical assumption to make. However grim the thought may be." Aizawa agreed, arms crossing over his chest, shoulders squaring, tense. "But it still doesn't answer how they could have stolen Chisaki's quirk if it's still in his possession. It's paradoxical."

"Don't you find it strange how Kai Chisaki still has his arms?" All Might mused, his expression becoming even more grim as he did so. "It is time consuming to condition someone to fear their quirk, to break them in such a way as to make them be deathly afraid of something they've had for their entire lives, something that is a fundamental part of their being, their very identity. Wouldn't it be easier to simply erase his ability entirely to better control him if they wanted to keep him? Or, if we're being crude… why not just slice his hands off? The League is hardly above mutilation. Unless they were afraid of the quirk becoming dormant. Becoming more difficult to extract."

Aizawa and Mic shared a glance, both perplexed, both uncertain where All Might was heading with this, but both unsettled by the possibilities. "We're not following."

"Isn't it curious how the Nomus we have already apprehended and taken into custody have very similar quirks to each other? Almost identical, in fact. Something unheard of in nature. All quirks can be separated into subsets based on their type, true enough. Power quirks. Warp quirks. Fire quirks. So on. But none are exactly the same as another. All have their own unique qualities and characteristics, based on the individual traits of their wielders. Yet the same cannot be said for the quirks the Nomus possess. Almost as if they are… one and the same."

Aizawa's eyes widened.

"Are you saying… they have the ability to copy quirks?"

Mic's face drained of all color, his gaze flickering from one man to the other, disbelieving. All Might’s silent glance was an answer all on its own.

"When he was being examined at Musutafu Central Hospital the doctors had found surgical scars on Chisaki’s body." The hero said at last after a long pause, one hand reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out an all too familiar file, along with several photos, and handing them to Aizawa for observation. "They're easy enough to miss, considering the sheer number of other injuries and mutilation that is present on his body, but they're there. Incisions that are simply too neat and too precise to be mistaken for Himiko Toga's random stabbings. Compare them to the scars Eri has retained after her abuse and you'll notice they're not much different. The placement and methodology may differ slightly, but the intent is clearly the same — trigger the quirk, observe its effects and then harvest blood and tissue while it's active to examine it further."

"So they'd experimented on him." Aizawa concluded, angling the file so his companion sitting in the backseat could see, eyes flickering between the photos of Eri's arms and closeups of surgical incisions littering the yakuza's body. Analyzing. "And you think they were successful?"

"It is a possibility." All Might answered, smoothly guiding the car onto the bridge and speeding along it, the dark walls of Tartarus rising above the sea waves like a monstrous beast waiting to devour any visitor who dared approach it. "We cannot know for certain. Kai Chisaki is still in no state to be answering questions, and after recent events he has even less reason to put his trust in us, much less recount the absolute hell he has gone through. Our best option is to try and question Kurogiri, though I doubt he will give us answers either. Still… it is worth a try. If the League has managed to get its hands on Overhaul… and has managed to make several copies of it to be distributed among Nomu… or has figured out a way to turn it into another weapon, much like the quirk erasing bullets… the results could be catastrophic. A quirk of that kind of magnitude in villains' hands… is no joke."

"You've been fighting again, haven't you, boy?"

The book set before him barely provided any cover, but he hid behind it regardless, staring stubbornly at the crinkled pages, the lines blurry and unreadable, his eyes not daring to look up.

A heavy sigh sounded somewhere above him and a large hand fell upon the spine of the heavy tome held obstinately within his hands, easily tugging it from his grasp and snapping it shut, setting it aside on the corner of the table. Kai sniffled, rubbing his sore cheek and obscuring it from view with his wrist, angling his bruised face away.

"Let me see."

Calloused fingers, soft but firm, grasped his chin and turned him back around, dark blue, bordering on gray, eyes searching, scanning his features, stopping on the dark blue shiner decorating his right eye, busted lip and the bloody cut gracing his left cheek.

Another, resigned sigh left his father’s lips.

"What was it this time?"

Kai looked away, forcefully pulling himself from Pops' soft grip, remaining stubbornly silent. When the man spoke again there was a new firmness to his voice, a subtle demand for an answer.

"Kai."

"They were making fun of Hari." He mumbled under his breath at last, suddenly very interested in the floorboards beneath them. "Saying his mom and dad were criminals and that he was a criminal too. They called him villain's spawn."

"And what did you do?"

"Punched them in their nasty mouths of course."

He could practically feel Pops' disapproval, the man's brows furrowing and a large hand coming to pinch the bridge of the man's nose, dragging heavily down his face. "Kai. Those were civillians."

"So what?" Kai mumbled, and he was absolutely not pouting as he did so, thank you very much. "They were bullies and they deserved to be treated as such. They think they can just get away with it, because of who Hari is. Just because they don't have heroes constantly knocking on their door. Just because their parents aren't being harassed and aren't being called…"

The boy trailed off and looked away, newly fixed lips pursing. Pops frowned, looking down at him, still waiting for an answer.

"Aren't being called what, Kai?"

Angry tears prickled at the corners of the boy's eyes, and he turned away, gaze falling to his hands clenched tightly in his lap, fingers balling into fists.

"Aren't being called villains."

A heavy breath sounded somewhere above him, and there was a scraping noise of a chair being pulled up next to him, the man sinking down into the seat beside him, large hands clasping together on the table before them.

"Is that what really made you upset? That some people called us villains?"

Kai's sniffle and stubborn silence was his only answer. Letting out a heavy breath, the man reached out, his broad, calloused hand gently falling upon brown locks. A soft hiss left the boy's clenched teeth as an alcohol soaked cloth gently dabbed at the corners of his busted lips, wiping away the caked blood there.

"People aren't always going to accept us, Kai." Pops murmured, now moving on to the cut on the boy's cheek, despite his son's half hearted wriggling to get away. "No matter what we do. No matter what happens to us. People will always view us as villains. That's just how it is. We will always be apart from society."

The bandages around his wrist were carefully untied. He barely felt the tugs of unwinding cloth and the unpleasant feeling of his healing wound being jostled, the pull of stitched together skin. The gentle weight of Hari's chin against his hair was grounding, soothing, and he leaned back against the warm presence behind him, enjoying the gentle nuzzle and puff of air the action elicited, Chrono's arms curling just a little tighter around him.

The stitches were jagged and utterly horrid when he looked back, ugly, black thread piercing reddened flesh — a permanent mark of the violence that had occurred. Of his failure. Unbearable to look at. So he didn't, burying his face in Hari's neck, feeling the comforting pulse of the man's lifeblood against the skin of his cheek, eyes slowly sliding shut. Distancing him from reality.

"You won't always be able to protect Hari from everything, Kai…" Pops was saying, his voice heavy and sorrowful, "and this predilection for violence of yours… it's not going to solve all your problems. Look." The sight of the smear of blood against the cloth was suddenly horrible to him. Nauseating. Kai turned away, only to be forced to look back at it with a gentle hand clasping around his chin, dark eyes peering into bright gold. "This." Pops stressed, shaking the cloth, and the boy averted his eyes. Ashamed. "Is never going to solve your problems. Just makes more of them. Not only for you, but for everyone around you. Hari… he worships you, Kai. You tell him to run — he runs. You tell him to jump — he jumps. You tell him to burn the world down — he shows up with gasoline. But all the responsibility is going to be on you. Whatever happens."

Soft hands gently grasped his shoulders, the man pushing aside the chair and coming to kneel down before him, gaze never leaving Kai's own.

"I don't want to shame you, Kai." Pops said, quiet but firm. "That's not my intention. But… I need you to understand and hear me now. I'm afraid this will end badly for you one day. I'm afraid you will make a mistake. I won't be able to protect you forever, boy. One day… I won't be there to pull you out of trouble. I hope you know that, Kai…"

Kai's breath hitched within his chest, Hari's arms only wrapping tighter around him in response.

I'm sorry, Pops… I should have listened to you… it's all my fault… I failed everyone… failed you…

And no one will ever forgive me for what I've done… no one will ever see me as anything other than the filthy villain I am… the responsibility for that is only mine to bear.

He barely felt Recovery Girl's gloved fingers gently probing around his wound. Barely felt the swabs of warm cloth soaked in soap and water. The sight of stitches was permanently etched into his mind. Ugly. Tormenting. Burned into his eyelids. He couldn’t wipe the image away if he tried. Simply would never be able to. Would never be able to forget the dismayed, betrayed look on Pops' face as he set their family on the path of ruin. The faces of his men as they were taken away by police.

It's all my fault… I've killed you… and I will only kill them all too… like the disease I am…

Desperate, emerald green eyes shifted into cold, laughing turquoise.

I'm a curse… they have to understand that… so why… why are they even trying? Why won't they just let me go? Am I still being punished for what I did? To my father? My family?

… To Eri?

But then again… he probably deserved all this… after all, since when did black hearted monsters like him ever deserve clemency?..

"Hari." Recovery Girl's voice was soft. So soft. "Have you eaten at all today?"

Chisaki's own meal stood on the bedside drawer beside them, barely touched. Hari had tried to feed him that morning, but Kai had barely been able to take two bites, the mere sight and smell of the food revolting, sickening, making his stomach clench with nausea. He knew his inability to eat had upset Kurono. Could see it in those eyes he knew so well. But he… he just couldn't help it. Food held no appeal to him now. It was just another thing keeping him here, where he didn't want to be. Just another thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Hari's silence was telling, and the old woman's gaze softened, her hands gently patting Kai's injured wrist. Whether to soothe herself, or the two villains, Kai didn't really know.

"There's some sandwiches left over in the teacher's lounge, just down the hall, if you want. You can't miss it. It’s the middle of class, so don’t be afraid of students coming across you. Even if you do, I know you can be discreet anyhow.”

For a few moments, Hari seemed conflicted, his blue eyes flickering between the old woman’s face and Kai’s, hesitant. In the end, his hunger and exhaustion seemed to get the best of him, and he slowly rose to his feet with one last comforting squeeze to Kai's shoulder, the latter briefly pressing his cheek against the other man's.

"I'll be right back." He promised, though he didn't need to, but the assurance was comforting to Kai nevertheless, his head dipping in a shallow, almost imperceptible nod. 

For a split second he almost felt compelled to tell Hari to stay. Tell him not to go. Ask him to hold him, caress him, stay with him. Anything to not feel alone. To not hear Dabi’s voice in his head, telling him the bitter truth he so desperately didn't want to hear. To be able to close his eyes and pretend, just for a little while, that all of this wasn't real. That he and Hari were still back at the Hassaikai. That the bullets were still free. That Pops was… was still alive. That their family was still together and whole, unbroken by Kai's greed, stupidity and arrogance. Sweet lies that would be pleasant to indulge in, better than any drug, any alcohol out there.

But… this was for the best, he supposed. Hari had to learn to let him go. Had to learn to live without him. Had to detach himself from him once and for all. Before it was too late. Because… because Kai knew he wouldn't be around for much longer. Either he would find another way out, or the League would reclaim what they considered rightfully theirs. But also he… he was just so tired of hurting him. So tired of constantly hurting the people around him. Of spreading pain and misery everywhere he went, like an infectious disease. A plague in human form. For so long he had believed himself to be the cure, when in fact he had always been the exact opposite…

Without him Pops would still be alive. Without him none of all of this suffering would've ever happened. To anyone.

He should've been left on those dirty streets to die… all those years ago. Maybe then... they would've all been spared of the pain he'd caused.

"There's a machine there too if you'd like some coffee." Recovery Girl said softly, dragging him back to reality, dull golden eyes staring sightlessly at the opposite wall of his ward. "If you want some other snacks I can lend you some money."

A brief, exhausted but ultimately good natured smirk flickered across Hari's face.

"You're assuming I haven't pickpocketed you."

A warm smile spread across the elderly woman's face. "Oh I know you didn't, dear. You wouldn't steal from a frail, helpless old lady like me, would you? It would go against your yakuza code of honor."

Hari's brow quirked in surprise, but he seemed to recover quickly enough, a glimmer of humor dancing within his gaze, temporarily taking the place of exhaustion. "Suppose it does." The amusement was gone when he glanced at Chisaki for one last time before finally leaving, the door sliding softly shut behind him. Kai didn't watch him go, instead, his gaze drifted to the window, staring at the dull world outside.

With the weeks slowly inching towards the start of winter, sunny days were now few and far between, replaced by depressing clouded skies and promise of rain and winds. The thought of storms made his stomach clench with dread, made his free hand shake and grasp at his blankets more desperately, pulling them against his body as if the flimsy fabric would somehow protect him from the incoming hails outside. Would somehow act as a shield. A fact that Recovery Girl didn't seem to miss as she immediately looked up to glance at him in concern, a soothing shushing sound leaving her lips, warm hands wrapping around Chisaki's.

"It's all right," she murmured, her voice almost maternal as she did so and so, so reassuring. "No one's going to hurt you. You're all right."

It shamed him how easy he was to read now. How his every emotion seemed to be written on his sleeves, for everyone else to see. Pops had spent so many years teaching him how to be a proper yakuza. Instructing him on how to be able to hide his emotions and reactions behind a mask, until wearing a permanent poker face had just become natural, become a part of his everyday life. Had taught him how to handle pain, how to keep his sanity, keep his honor even in the event of being tortured by a rival gang. And Chisaki had soaked up all of those lessons… because he wanted Pops to be proud of him. Wanted to be a proper heir. So he didn't stop working on himself. Not until he could win every game of poker. And definitely not until he was sure that no amount of pain would ever make him turn against his father.

And now just look at him. Look at what he had become.

Shame held a tight grip around his throat. Shame and self loathing. Chisaki hated what he had become. Despised it with every inch of his being. Hated how weak, how frightened he now was. How pitiful. His every emotion broadcasted for everyone else to see. Pops would be ashamed of him. Wouldn't even recognize him as his heir if he were to see him now. Would reject him. Deny that Kai had ever been his son…

He just wanted to die. He just wanted to not be here anymore. To not exist. Was that really too much to ask? Did he not deserve even that much? Did they not realize that they would be much better off, much safer, without him being around to infect them with his disease? That this was for their own good…

"I wanted to speak with you, Chisaki." Recovery Girl's voice broke him out of his brief dark rumination and he forced himself to look up, to focus, golden eyes meeting the old woman's gaze. A soft sigh left withered lips, the nurse looking down as she wrapped his arm in soft, clean gauze, seeming to struggle for words, to hesitate.

"You know… you shouldn't blame the kids, Kai." She said at last, gently tying the bandages into a secure knot and tucking the ends neatly beneath the top layer so they wouldn't get in the way. Her warm hands grasped his, and usually the touch would be revolting to him, but with the gloves and exhaustion… he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Impossibly kind dark eyes searched his face and he turned away, unable to meet her gaze. "You mustn't punish them. What happened… it wasn't their fault. And I know you know that, Kai."

He did, and the truth felt like a fist squeezing his neck, crushing his windpipe. Deku and Bakugo’s heartbroken faces as they stood in the doorway and watched him attempt to cut his life short flashed before his eyes.

"If you need someone to blame… someone to be angry at... well, you need not look farther than us. Pro Heroes."

Kai looked back at her. There were tears in her eyes, he noted to his own surprise. Whether tears of regret, guilt, or sorrow — he couldn’t really tell. But the sight distressed him nevertheless. Was deeply uncomfortable for him to witness.

She reminded him too much of Pops. Of the kind, supportive father he'd so mercilessly murdered.

"I won't lie to you, Chisaki. We've been failing you every step of the way. We, the adults, who've been working in this industry for decades. Failed to do the right thing again and again and again. We brought you here for information. We refused to see your pain. We allowed the past to cloud our judgement. We allowed you to be questioned when you clearly weren't ready for it. We allowed… we intentionally allowed one of your abusers near you. Those aren't sins that can be forgiven — we understand and accept that." Her gaze searched his face, and his eyes dropped to his lap, avoiding her, though he did not pull away when he felt her warm hands squeeze his palm, gently stroke down his arm.

"But those kids… they care for you. They worry for you. They did their very best to help you… They need you, Kai. As much as you'd like to deny it. If you want to be angry with us, that is deserved. But don't punish the kids for something that simply wasn't their fault."

"I'm not punishing them." Kai mumbled, his voice hoarse and rough from lack of use, wrought with exhaustion and despair. "I'm trying to save them."

"Save them from what, Kai?"

"Myself."

His answer was blunt. Honest. He didn't see much point in lying to her. What would that achieve? At least maybe this way… he could make her understand. Make her see. Convince at least one person to finally let him go.

"I'm… I'm not a good man." He began quietly, clearing his throat, eyes fixing on his own hands, fingers clenching and unclenching. Pain flashed over his face, against his wishes, there and gone as swiftly as the breeze, briefly darkening his brow. Despite his best efforts to hide it. "I've hurt a lot of people as part of the Hassaikai… and even before that. A lot of whom… didn't deserve it. I've also committed many crimes besides that: extortion, money laundering, blackmail, theft… you name it. Either way you look at it — I'm not a good person, and never really was. Maybe from birth."

His throat felt thick, forcing out the words was suddenly difficult. The memory of that bloodied room, of his hands being suddenly stained in blood when mere moments ago they had been clean, quirkless and pure, a scene he hadn’t thought of in over twenty years, was unbearable to recollect, and impossible to confess. Even now.

Dabi’s voice cackled in his mind.

"At the time I believed that what I was doing was necessary in order to cure this world of quirks as I thought… I thought they were a sickness, the cause of much suffering that was happening in the world. And my greed led me to believe that I could capitalize on fixing it all. On going back and changing the evolutionary history of this world. Setting humanity on a different path." He said at last, voice cracking, despite his attempts to keep it steady. "I thought I was a god, but I didn't realize… that I was the disease all along."

It felt like his head was being split open. Like he was being slowly rent apart at the seams. His eyes burned. It was suddenly hard to hold the tears back. His vision became blurry, and he blinked furiously, trying and failing to remain calm. That only served to upset him even more, self loathing squeezing all remaining air out of his lungs. The feeling of the woman’s hands gently grasping his was suddenly unpleasant, distressing, making him feel as if he were tainting her; spreading his illness to yet another person.

"I killed my father." Chisaki said, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks, the man no longer capable of holding them back. How many times has he cried already? How many times has he bared his weakness to others? "I tortured and used that girl for my own, selfish desires. I destroyed the Hassaikai, the organization my father had devoted all his life to preserving. I hurt Hari… took away the only family he's known and subjected him to three years in prison. Those men I picked off the streets… whose shards were left strewn across the dirty alleys by society… I used them just like the people I swore to defend them from. And as if all that wasn't enough already, I also killed that hero and League member. What happened to me… is the consequences of my own actions, I acknowledge that. The responsibility is only mine to bear."

Recovery Girl's fingers squeezed around his, whether in anger or judgement — he didn't know. Didn't dare to look up to find out. 

"The point is, I spread misery." He whispered, swallowing heavily, his throat feeling dry. "I hurt everyone around me, one way or another. That's all I really know how to do. And I… I will hurt those kids too. It's simply in my nature. So why… why don't you see me as what I am? Why don't you see me as a villain? Why won't you just let me go?"

He could no more control the tears than he could control the despair swirling inside him, tearing into his heart. Hopelessness swallowed him whole, the thought of being forced to exist, even for another moment, simply unbearable.

A heavy breath left Shuzenji's lips, and the hands around his squeezed slightly, prompting him to look at her, to meet her eyes.

"Who told you those things, Kai?"

He didn't answer, turned away. It was so difficult to meet her eyes…

But Recovery Girl didn't seem to accept his silence.

When the woman spoke again her voice was quiet. Impossibly gentle.

"Did Dabi tell you those things?"

A quiet sniffle was her only answer, Kai's arm going limp in her hands where previously it was trying to pull away.

"Dabi lied to you, Kai. You're not the disease you make yourself out to be."

But Kai was already shaking his head in denial, yet more tears gathering in his eyes, glistening upon his cheeks; the upsetting sight breaking the old woman's heart.

"What he told you wasn't true."

"No." The man muttered, the denial weak. Desperate. "No, he didn't lie to me. Everything he said is true and you know it."

A pained expression passed over the old woman's face. Something deeply sorrowful.

"Your father is still alive, Kai."

Chisaki froze, wide, tearful golden eyes snapping towards her. Shuzenji's gaze was steady, assuring.

"I asked for his records, called the hospital. He's comatose, but he's alive. Your father is alive, Kai. Dabi has lied to you. Just as he lied about everything else."

And that was enough to finally break him.

Once the first sob left his lips, he was unable to hold the rest back, tears flowing down his face freely and the nurse immediately leaned forward, warm hands softly grasping his cheeks, holding him.

"I don't believe in eternal punishment, Kai." She whispered, thumbs swiping over his cheekbones, gently wiping the moisture away. "What happened to you was heinous enough. I know you're frightened. I know it's hard. But you deserve the chance to get your life back, you hear me? You deserve to live without the shadow of the League hanging over you forever. You deserve to see your father again. Please, let us help you."

The door to the ward slid open at that moment, and Hari stepped into the small room. For a moment, he stood frozen in the doorway, observing the upsetting scene. And the next he was already rushing forward, gathering Kai into his arms, the other yakuza grasping onto him desperately, hugging him back.

"Hari."

The man's arms squeezed around him, pressing him ever closer. Kai's fingers dug into the lapels of Hari's borrowed shirt, grabbing onto him, as if any second he might be wrenched away.

"I'm sorry, Hari."

He wasn't exactly sure what he was apologizing for. Whether it was for destroying their family. Taking away their father. Sending Hari to prison with his actions... Trying to kill himself. But he simply couldn't help it. The apologies left his lips without conscious thought, escaping with each breath. He barely felt Recovery Girl's soft hand upon his shoulder, or Hari pressing light kisses against his tear stained cheeks. All that mattered was the pain roiling inside. The feeling of the ground slipping from beneath his feet.

"I'm sorry."

Hari's soft lips pressed against his temple, his hands wrapping ever tighter around his trembling body. Protective. Secure.

"It's okay, Kai."

The sound of Hari's heartbeat against his ear was soothing. Steadying. Comforting.

"It's okay."

Chapter Text

Awareness came to him slowly.

Blinding sunlight spilled through the flimsy blinds of the nearby window, poured through the barely covered entrance to the balcony, encasing half the bed in eye watering brightness. Chisaki couldn’t bear the light, the sheer intensity of it seeming to cut into his retinas, and so shut his eyes so as not to see it. But as he buried his face into the sheets beneath him, he couldn’t help but notice how coarse they were compared to the ones he usually had. How different they smelled, not at all like the detergent he usually used. How he could feel the holes in the fabric pressed against his cheek, the frayed ends of thread tickling against his nose unpleasantly. Had he fallen asleep in one of the conference rooms? It wouldn’t be the first time, though he always made sure to overhaul all furniture when it began to show signs of wear and tear. His bed suddenly just felt so different…

Maybe because it wasn’t his bed at all…

His eyes snapping open once more, Kai bolted upright in his bed, stumps colliding painfully against the too hard mattress. The memories of the past year flashed before his eyes, images changing in quick succession, leaving him gasping for air, horror and panic wrapping a tight grip around his throat. The realization of where he was, who was holding him captive, what had happened to land him here - all of it came to the forefront of his ravaged mind once more, stealing all breath from his battered lungs. So caught up was he in his own horror, in fact, that he only belatedly felt the dampness on his cheeks, the small droplets rolling down his chin. Despair grasped his heart, and his body bent forward of its own accord, forehead pressing against the equally coarse blanket draped across his lap, a strangled sob escaping clenched teeth.

That’s right… he wasn’t home anymore… he would never see his home again…  

“Oh, goodie. You’re finally awake.”

Golden eyes snapped open once more, falling upon the new threatening presence in the room with him. Tomura Shigaraki sneered down at him, crimson eyes, ridiculing and malicious, narrowed in mockery; revelling in his open show of weakness. Kai almost didn’t feel the shame bubbling up inside him, the desperate thrashing of the last remnants of his pride. Almost only felt the resigned acceptance of his fate, the realization that no matter what he said, no matter what he did — the villain would do what he had come here to accomplish regardless of Kai's wishes.

He almost didn't flinch as rough fingers grabbed his chin though he couldn't withhold the frightened whimper as he was suddenly pulled close, coming directly face to face with Tomura Shigaraki.

"I'm not gonna lie to you," the villain hissed, his grip tightening painfully as Chisaki tried to feebly inch away, "I woulda gotten rid of you a long time ago. You've always been a nasty, annoying pain in the ass, but at least in the beginning you had useful information to offer us. Now however…" A slow smirk stretched across those chapped lips as Chisaki shuddered and looked away. He didn't need Shigaraki to finish that sentence. He knew what he was. Was deeply ashamed of it. After all the years of being brought up as a proud yakuza… he had broken and spilled the beans about everything he knew in less than a year.

Pops would be deeply ashamed of him.

"Yes," Shigaraki purred, his dry rasp of a voice like nails on a chalkboard, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he sank down onto it, trapping Chisaki between himself and the wall, "I can see that you know how useless you've become to us. As dumb as you are, you're not that slow." 

A few months ago, Chisaki would've felt offense. Would've been angry at this attack on his intelligence, this arrogance, this presumptuousness of an immature brat permanently stuck in their teens. But now he could only bow his head in shameful acceptance.

He'd heard all these insults before. Had heard Dabi call him an imbecile many times. And had come to realize that there were no lies in these insults. He had been an idiot in trying to challenge the League. Had been foolish in trying to usurp the power that was to rightfully pass on from All for One to Shigaraki. These descriptors of him were nothing but the truth, however bitter and unpleasant that truth may be for him to hear.

"However," Shigaraki continued, his grin becoming all the more nasty, Chisaki's skin crawling and flaring with hives from the other's unwelcome proximity, "No matter how many times I confronted Dabi about it, he seemed reluctant to get rid of you. And the last time he did this, he said something rather interesting…"

Dread coiled in Chisaki's gut at these ominous words, throat flexing reflexively in a dry swallow. Whatever Dabi had told Shigaraki… it couldn't be anything good.

And it wasn't.

"You see, the research into the bullets you created is going rather slowly. Without the original quirk to speed up the process, reverse engineering Rewind is becoming quite tedious. And that's when Dabi presented an interesting thought: why exert all that extra effort to reconstruct it when we have another quirk so readily available that is just as useful if not more? Why not use that quirk that we already possess to create more weapons instead, hm?"

A soft, menacing laugh sounded across the still room as a look of abject horror spread across Kai's face, tears already prickling at the corners of his eyes, the yakuza starting to shake his head in wordless pleas that he already knew would not be heard or heeded.

"Why not use… Overhaul?"

"No…" Kai whimpered, his voice faint, barely more than a croak. "Please…"

Images were flashing uncontrollably before his eyes. His father's face, Kai's recollection of it badly blurred and frayed after more than twenty years of trying to suppress it, smiling mere seconds before it morphed into horror and disappeared in red mist. His mother's horrified eyes, her shrill screams echoing in his ears. The orphanage, hiding dark, secret hospital rooms and the horrors within them with colorful walls and cheerful posters. The pages on quirk theory that he'd perused so many times that they were permanently burned into his memory, showing diagrams of rats and detailing the end of the human race. Pops… Pops taking him in. Pops comforting him after a fight…

Pops staring at him with the same look of horror on his face as Kai's dead mother.

"See, you're a disease, Kai… A curse… You should be grateful we took your arms away…" Dabi's voice whispered, crawling insidiously out of the shadowy recesses of his troubled mind like a serpent slivering out from beneath the undergrowth, spitting venom. "It was a poison and we cleansed you of it…"

If the League gave him his arms back… they would return him his quirk. Return the disease that had plagued him, that had hurt him. Hurt everyone around him. Just like Dabi had said it had. Already Chisaki could feel his skin crawling, a thousand little bugs running over his arms and chest and leaving flared hives in their wake, making him heave. Making him gasp desperately for air that seemed to suddenly be evading him, his lungs unable to draw in enough to sustain him.

This phantom strangulation only served to send his panic into overdrive, ice cold liquid pouring through his veins, Shigaraki’s face swimming in and out of focus as Chisaki's eyes struggled to fix upon him, a white fog collapsing all around him, the haze of utter horror making it impossible to focus on anything at all.

A sharp sting and heat blossoming across his cheek forcefully, brutally snapped him back to reality, and Chisaki stared up at the villain glowering down at him now, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps.

"I can see now why Dabi keeps you around…" Shigaraki whispered, his fingers holding an iron grip around the yakuza's chin, not letting the other man shrink away, something cold sinking into the pit of the other man's stomach at the suddenly hungry, predatory gleam in those crimson eyes. "Maybe you're not as boring, or useless as I thought after all…"

And just like that — all the events of the past night came rushing back all at once, and before he even knew what was happening, before he could realize what he was doing, Chisaki was wrenching violently in Shigaraki’s grasp, screaming his terror into the mouth pressed against his, crying out his disgust and anguish up to the unyielding heavens above as the other villain settled over him.

Not that anybody heard them.

There were voices coming from outside the ward door as he slowly came to. He could hear them clearly, despite them speaking in whispers. For a moment, he felt alarm. Felt the ever present, familiar and wretched feeling of fear eating away at him, clawing at his ribcage, making him grasp at the sheets as if they would offer him some feeble protection. But then — he recognized them, and reluctantly, as if looking for an excuse to keep tormenting him, the fear ebbed away. Ready to return the first chance it got.

"I just don't think he's ready." A male voice hissed and Kai’s heart gave a lurch at the undeniable anger in the man's voice, the fierce protectiveness Chisaki knew he did not deserve. "You're trying to force him to agree to all these things when not two weeks ago he was fighting for his life! Can't you leave him be? Why do we need to have this conversation now?"

"I understand that this is a difficult situation. For both of you." Recovery Girl's voice came through the slight crack in the door, soft and delicate. Radiating sympathy. "For something so harrowing to happen… but Kai no longer has any hope of recovering here. You know that as well as I do, Hari. After that… that man," for a moment her voice shook with anger and Chisaki fought his reluctance to peer at the door, curious. He had never heard the normally gentle school nurse express a single negative emotion. Let alone anger that suspiciously bordered on hatred, "had come here, Kai can no longer view this ward as a safe haven. It would only be an act of compassion to move him elsewhere, it is vital for his health and emotional stability."

"Vital for getting the information you want, you mean." Hari scoffed and Chisaki could practically visualize the look of anger upon the man's face, see it in his mind's eye. "That's all you people ever care about, isn't it? You want to move him so that you can eventually force him to relive what he went through. For information."

Chisaki clutched at the sheets surrounding him tighter, something cold sinking into the pit of his stomach. 'Move him?' Move him where? There were probably very few secure places comparable to the school. Chisaki didn't trust the safe houses the heroes could provide him with, and trusted the people who would be assigned to guard them even less. He knew what the heroes outside the ward thought of him. How could they not, when the hatred they felt for him was so valid, supported by so many heinous crimes he had committed? He knew that as valuable as they thought the information he possessed was, most would be all too happy to see him dead, imprisoned, or handed back to the League as continued penance for his actions. After all, the girl — Eri — would be forced to live with what he had done to her for the rest of her life. Why should Chisaki then be allowed to escape his punishment? To not suffer for the remainder of his pitiful little life just like his victims would be forced to live with the trauma he had dealt them until the day they died? It would be nothing short of a travesty. An insult to all those he had hurt. It made even him feel sick to think about it…

And if they did not mean the safe houses… then that would leave only one place, wouldn't it? The place he was heading toward before the League had taken his punishment into their own hands. Before they had briefly cleansed him from the illness plaguing him and later shown him how it had rotted him from within. How it had waited insidiously inside him, poisoned him… and how he'd been too stupid to recognize it. To realize what he truly was. Filling his head with lies about his own greatness, about how he was close to God, sent to this world to cleanse it, save it from its own ignorance. When in reality he was the disease himself… despite the nurse trying to convince him otherwise.

Tartarus Prison. That was the only place Chisaki thought they could send him. The second most secure place in the country beside UA Highschool, it would only make the most sense to send him there. He would be easily monitored there. Kept securely locked away behind a myriad of doors and surrounded by prison guards, most of whom had gone to hero schools and were highly proficient with their quirks — making them suitable to guard the most dangerous criminals in the country. As stated before, it wasn't like he wasn't still a criminal, not only in the public eye, but the law as well. His criminal record hadn't been expunged with his supposed 'death'. He still had a prison sentence to fulfil. Several felony counts, each of which carried with it a verdict of life imprisonment. They could proverbially kill two birds with one stone. Keep him somewhere safe where they could question him without fearing the League would silence him, and make sure he would undergo the punishment he should have before his abduction. Simple. Ingenious… And unbelievably hurtful.

Tears sprang to his eyes and he buried his face in his pillow, muffling a sob, his body trembling so hard with his suppressed cries that the bed shook beneath him.

He knew it was no less than he deserved, whatever the school nurse had said. But the thought of finally going to prison, being locked behind walls upon walls and vaulted doors… being separated from Hari… from the kids, Deku and Bakugo… the only people who offered him any support and safety since his rescue from the League… isolated and alone… he suddenly could not imagine a more terrible fate. The only thing worse would be falling back into Dabi's hands.

And then… if he went to Tartarus… how would he ever see his dad again?

When the nurse spoke again her voice was quiet. "I have Kai's best interests at heart." She said softly, and Chisaki shook all the harder, terror and anguish wrapping a tight hold around his frantically beating heart. "I would never agree to this measure if I didn't believe it could truly help him."

A heavy sigh sounded from the other side of the door.

"Fine. Fine. Just… let me speak to him and give him a few days to mull it over, at the very least. Get him used to the idea."

"Of course."

There was a sound of creaking footsteps approaching, and Chisaki hastened to stifle his sobs, mask his upset, turning onto his other side and burying himself as much as possible beneath his blankets. He didn't look up when the door clicked shut behind Hari. Didn't move an inch when he felt the mattress dip beneath the other man's weight as Hari settled on its edge. Remained perfectly still even when he could feel those blue eyes boring into the mound of blankets where Kai lay hidden, biting into his own arm to keep himself silent.

"I know you're awake."

Chisaki shook, but didn't resist as he felt the sheets slowly being pulled down to bare his face and shoulders, shining, golden eyes meeting those of his childhood friend. A slow, deep sigh left Kurono's lips.

"How much have you heard?"

Chisaki swallowed, his mouth feeling dry.

"Enough to know they want to send me away."

Hari's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, blue eyes peering at him solicitously. "Send you away? Send you away where?"

Somehow the pretense that Hari didn't understand what he was talking about brought forth a surge of anger, one that was stronger than his fear and upset, and Chisaki latched onto it like a lifeline, desperate for something - anything to feel other than betrayal. Anything that would hide his hurt.

"I know they want to send me to Tartarus."

Whatever Hari had been expecting, it clearly wasn't that as the man sharply leaned back, scrutinizing Kai with his blue stare.

"Tartarus? What are you talking about?"

Chisaki's teeth grit, struggling to hold back the pain bubbling inside him. "Don't treat me like a fool, Hari. That is low, even for you. I deserve many things, but I at least do not deserve that."

"But I'm not!" Hari gasped and try as he might to spot the lie, Kai could read nothing but sincerity on the other man's face. "We weren't discussing that at all!"

A laugh, harsh and bitter left Kai's lips against his best efforts of holding it back, fingers clenching around the sheets wrapped around him tighter. Something that Hari didn't miss. "Right. You were simply discussing moving me to a five star hotel, I presume? Or one of those fancy safe houses the government can set up? Would be easy to sell me to the highest bidder from there, although I had thought that was something they had wanted to avoid…"

"Please, don't say that." When Hari spoke again, his voice was deathly quiet. Barely more than a whisper. "Please don't say these things. Nobody wants to get rid of you, Kai. Nobody wants to sell you… It's nothing like that. We just…"

"You just what, Hari?" Kai snarled, hoping that his anger concealed the notes of anguish in his voice. "You just want me gone?! Is that it?! You just want to be rid of me. Just yesterday the nurse was telling me how I should give you all another chance. How I should let you prove to me that you really want to help. How I should give myself a chance to heal from this and live. But all this time you were conspiring behind my back to send me away, weren't you? Hoping to be rid of the disgusting burden of caring for me?"

He could plainly read the pain suddenly on full display on Hari's face. Could see how every word seemed to pierce the other man like a dagger, cutting deeper and deeper into his heart with every syllable he uttered. But he couldn't stop himself from saying these hurtful things even if he tried. Clung onto the feeble defense his anger offered.

"You misunderstood what you heard." Hari said quietly, wetting his lips in his anxiety, his voice carefully controlled, kept carefully even. But even so Kai could easily read the distress in Hari's eyes, the desperation for him to believe him. "And you're lashing out because you're scared. You've always done this, Kai. Whenever you felt upset, frightened or threatened, you would always use anger as a shield to protect you. But I need you to listen to me now. Whatever assumption you came up from overhearing part of our conversation is wrong. You don't have the full context—"

"What more context do I need?" Kai asked, his voice cracking. "I can see the way you look at me. I'm not capable of leading anyone anymore. I can't take charge. All of my plans have done nothing but end in massive failure. I myself have ended up in this pitiful state. I can see that you're disappointed. I can tell that you understand I'll never again be able to get our family back together, set a course, plan for the future. I can't—" all words suddenly seemed to fail him, and he fell silent, golden eyes faintly glimmering in the feeble light of twilight coming from the adjacent window, staring down at his bandaged wrist, avoiding Hari's own.

"Pops was right." Kai said quietly, vocals thick with misery, and Hari shot him an alarmed, questioning look that the other man avoided meeting. "He told me I was getting reckless. He warned me it could end badly for me. And he… he warned me I would lead you into danger too, and I did. I destroyed our family. I brought the Hassaikai's downfall. And you… you were right to be angry with me for what I did to our father."

"Kai." Hari's voice was as soft as the fingers that reached out to grip his shoulder, but Kai lurched away from both as if scalded, unbridled pain flashing much more clearly across his features.

"I don't need your pity, Hari, and I don't need your sympathetic lies." Chisaki forced out, eyes glistening faintly in the low light of moonlight filtering through the ward window. "Especially since I know you wanted to leave me."

Hari didn't gasp. Didn't reel away in shock or surprise. Didn't rush to deny. To assure Kai that he was wrong, that Hari would never choose to abandon him, would never choose to flee from this sudden responsibility by deciding to go back to prison.

Instead there was only a heavy breath escaping thin lips, Hari levelling him with a long look that nevertheless radiated exhaustion and pain, shoulders sagging in resignated defeat.

And somehow that simple act of admission hurt more than anything else in the world.

"I was scared." Hari said, his voice no more than a broken whisper. "I'm not proud of it. I'm ashamed of it. I shouldn't have given in to my self doubts so easily. But I was just… I was just so worried that I would make you worse."

Kai was surprised to see the sudden glint of tears pervading Hari's eyes, a pang of deep discomfort and guilt making his heart squeeze painfully behind his ribcage, making him want to reach out to Hari, but being immediately squashed by the still too prevalent sense of self loathing. Seeming to notice the other's discomfort, Hari hastily wiped the moisture away, the heels of his hands pressing ruthlessly into his skull, as if in punishment for his sudden display of emotion to someone who was already so damaged and wracked with trauma.

"I've already failed at my job once." He said, clearing his throat, heartbroken, troubled blue eyes avoiding Kai's. "It was my job as your first lieutenant to protect you from harm. You were my boss. The organization depended on you remaining unharmed and in charge. And it was my job to ensure you did. I should've chucked Shigaraki out the first time he showed his face in our base. I should've talked you out of allying ourselves with them. I should've paid more attention and seen how dangerous the League were instead of dismissing them as immature children throwing a tantrum the way I did. But instead, I got complacent. I was," Hari's lips twisted with bitter, rueful self mockery, "I was basically sleeping on the job, forgetting that we're only human and not exempt from the rules of mortality."

Chisaki looked away at those words, eyes falling upon his flexing fingers. Hari continued unbidden, his voice sounding utterly hollow. 

"Truth is, I… I failed at my job because I got used to you solving all of our problems. I got used to you doing all the work when I should've been there to support you. At some point I stopped seeing you as the kid I knew in childhood, the bright kid with high ambitions who nevertheless made mistakes and got hurt just like the rest of us. It was easier to believe you were infallible, that you always knew what to do, no matter the situation. That, in the end, your ideas were always right and that they would serve to benefit us. Make our lives as yakuza as great as they were in Pops' stories."

Hari met his eyes again, and this time made no effort to hide the tears building in their corners.

"I stopped being your friend." He whispered, looking utterly shattered, mortally wounded. "Because I stopped seeing you as human."

Soft fingers reached out and grasped Kai's, taking his hand into his own, turning it over so the light fell upon the white bandages wrapped around the other man's thin wrist.

"And that's exactly why I failed… When I was brought here… I was selfish and afraid of facing that fact." Hari whispered, swallowing heavily, looking pained as he stared down at the tightly wound cloth. "I still wanted to cling to the idea of your invincibility. Because that would be easiest for me. It would mean that I wouldn't have to take charge. It would mean I wouldn't have to take responsibility over you again. Not after I had already failed you once so spectacularly... It would mean that I wouldn't have to face your mortality."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you then." Kai hissed, clinging onto the familiar feeling of anger like a lifeline, his voice hoarse as he tried to wrench his hand out of Hari's fingers, the other not letting up in his grip. "Let go of me, Hari."

"No." Hari said simply. "I won't. Not until you hear me out."

Kai sagged against his pillows, tears of frustration prickling at the corners of his eyes as he stared sullenly over Hari's shoulder and out of the window beyond.

"What would be the point of it?" He asked softly, avoiding Hari's gaze. "I'm not the messiah you viewed me as, I get it. I'm not going to lead you to the Promised Land. And you're disappointed in me because of it. So, why don't you just go? They're sending me away, anyway. Get out of here…"

"God, Chisaki, would you just shut up?!" Hari snapped and immediately froze in shock at what he'd just said and done, staring at Kai with his mouth slightly open in surprise at his own callousness, before snapping it shut, the man looking away, discomfited. "I'm sorry. But… Please…" He continued at last, his voice much softer. "Please, stop trying to push me away because you're scared and vulnerable, Kai. Please, just… hear me out."

Kai looked away, but didn't attempt to pull his arm out of Kurono's grip, sagging back against the pillows behind him, his chin dipping in a shallow nod. Taking a deep breath, Hari continued.

"But I've realized… that I have to take responsibility now, Kai. No matter how scared I am of ruining it all, of failing you, of making you worse… I have to be your friend again. I want to be your friend again, Kai. I want to be there for you, truly there. Not like when I was your lieutenant. And that will involve… telling you when you're wrong. Taking charge when it involves your health and wellbeing. It will involve me disagreeing with you, and refusing to follow your orders, no matter how aggravating it will be to you. It will involve me… being the friend I ought to have been to you all these years. The friend I used to be when we were kids."

Blue eyes tried to meet his, a slow hand extending in invitation, Hari's gaze hesitant, guilty, full of pain, and yet determined. Unwavering. Honest, no matter how hard Kai tried to spot the hint of deceit within it.

"Will you let me be your friend again, Kai?"

And slowly… hesitantly… knowing full well he could end up regretting this in the future… Kai accepted.

Early morning sunlight was spilling through the small window of the hidden ward, the crisp, early hours' breeze making the blinds sway softly with their force and dancing across the sleeping faces of the occupants of the tiny room. Chisaki was the first to stir softly from his sleep, breathing in the pleasant scent of grass and autumn leaves wafting through the crack to the outside world, eyes blinking drowsily as he slowly came to.

Hari's face slowly swam into view, slack and relaxed in the man's deep slumber, illuminated by the soft, orange and crimson rays of sunlight. It didn't seem like he had budged at all that night, as if he had indeed fallen asleep where he'd been sitting, sprawled over the uncomfortable chair at Kai's bedside. 

His hand was still clasped around Kai's when Chisaki looked down, fingers holding him securely; even in the depths of the man's slumber he didn't let go of Kai. This simple gesture of affection, of unwavering loyalty, was enough to bring tears to Kai's eyes and he clasped onto the hand holding him tighter, leaning forward until his cheek was pressed tenderly against Hari's wrist.

It was peaceful, lying like this, basked in sunlight and silence that was only disturbed by Hari's soft breathing. Kai couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way, the last time his mornings weren't shrouded with dark memories of turquoise eyes and pain. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's rest, undisturbed by debilitating nightmares that left him wide awake and drenched in cold sweat at the crack of dawn. With Hari there… it was like some of the weight perpetually dragging him down was gone. Like Dabi's shadow would retreat, just for a few hours, and leave him in peace. Only to return the moment Hari stepped outside the room.

His eyes sliding shut, Kai decided to enjoy himself… just for now… just for a little while.

A quiet, almost hesitant knock broke Chisaki out of the half-sleep he had fallen into, and he looked up in fear and alarm, instantly tense and alert as the door slowly creaked open.

Bakugo stood sheepishly on the threshold of the hidden ward, expression tentative and abashed as he peered into the small room, the heavy, dark bags beneath his eyes betraying his exhaustion - a consequence of many sleepless nights.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, suddenly interested in his own feet, avoiding Kai's gaze. "Recovery Girl said I could just check on you before going to class. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was already awake." Chisaki murmured, feeling just about as awkward as the kid standing at his door, the memories of their last meeting hanging over them like a dark, oppressive shadow. "You didn't disturb me."

Bakugo shuffled his feet as a heavy silence fell between them, as if some part of him expected Chisaki to say more and when he didn't it only added to his awkwardness. Finally, he turned to leave, but hesitated with his hand on the door handle, turning to glance at the yakuza over his shoulder.

"You'll be right next to me, you know. When you're moved to the dorms, I mean." He supplied when Chisaki shot him a questioning glance. "Your room will be right next to mine. Recovery Girl said so."

Chisaki nodded in acknowledgement, but still said nothing, making Bakugo's expression become even more pained, the boy clearly affected by this one-sided conversation.

"You don't have to worry about the others. They're a noisy bunch and pains in the asses even on a good day, but they're good people. They'll give you space, Deku and I will make sure of it."

Kai nodded again, his gaze still averted, unable to even so much as glance at Bakugo in his shame.

The sound of soft footsteps approaching finally made him look up, however, golden meeting red as the boy came to stand at his bedside, hands clenched tight at his sides, jaw set and tense. 

"I'm sorry."

Chisaki stared at him, shame and awkwardness being slowly replaced with confusion. Sorry? What could Bakugo possibly be sorry for? It wasn't Bakugo who had sliced his wrist open. It wasn't Bakugo who had shouted at Midoriya to kill him, tried to provoke him into murder. It wasn't Bakugo who had screamed monstrous things, horrifying everyone present. No. It had been Chisaki who had done those things. It had been Chisaki who had caused others such unnecessary distress. So… why was Bakugo apologizing for Kai's bad conduct? And if it wasn't that… what was he even apologizing for?

Bakugo seemed to read the confusion on his face because he swallowed heavily and glanced hesitantly in Hari's direction, as if worried that their hushed conversation had been enough to rouse him, but Hari continued to lie with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and steadily in his sleep.

"You shouldn't feel ashamed for… what happened." He said quietly, fingers clutching at the straps of his schoolbag as if they were something grounding. Something keeping him steady. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't fair… what I did to you."

Chisaki glanced at him, surprised. "You didn't do anything." He said slowly, growing more and more perplexed by the second. But Bakugo only shook his head, still staring anywhere but at Kai's face. 

"I shouldn't have made promises to you that I couldn't keep." Bakugo murmured at last, a look of pain crossing his face like a shadow. "That wasn't fair to you. I was too optimistic in my expectations. Too naive. Too childish in my outlook. I had no right to get your hopes up without being a 100% sure I could keep my word. I should've been more realistic about things. And because I wasn't… you almost lost your life."

"You're a kid." Chisaki murmured, self hatred once again flaring inside his ribcage, brows furrowed together as he struggled to get the words out. "It's only natural. I'm the adult here, I've lived longer. I have more experience. The truth is, I wouldn't have believed you if some part of me didn't really want to believe I could be saved. Just for a little bit."

"It's not your fault you tried to commit suicide." Bakugo said firmly. "We lied to you. We manipulated you. We told you you were safe when that obviously wasn't true. It's not your fault that you believed us. It's ours."

"I'm still scared of the League." He admitted after a pause, and his throat flexed in a heavy swallow, jaw setting in anger that was in no way directed at Chisaki. "It's why I train so hard. The only reason they abducted me back then was because I wasn't strong enough to stop them. To fight them off. And I'm worried that if— when I see them again, I'll fail again. Just like I did in Kamino. Back then, I could only run away. And All Might paid for my weakness." Bakugo shook his head, small sparks emitting from his palms and singing the fabric of his bag, his quirk going slightly haywire with his surge of emotion. "But what they've done to you was way worse than anything I experienced at their hands. And I thought… maybe if you could find the courage to fight them… then I definitely could. And I'd feel better about my own chances."

The self revulsion was clearly etched into every line of the boy's face.

"I'm no better than the adults who let Hawks near you." He admitted, hesitantly lifting his eyes to meet Kai's. "And I don't expect your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. I just… wanted you to know I'm sorry. And if you don't want to be near me, I can swap rooms with Deku, or somebody else so you don't have to put up with me."

"No." Chisaki said at last, reaching softly, hesitantly to brush his fingertips against Bakugo's wrist, the movement awkward and stilted in his inexperience of voluntarily showing emotion, but no less genuine. "No, I… don't think there'll be any need for that."

When Bakugo looked up at him in surprise, Chisaki nodded toward the door, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth for the first time. "You should go to class. You'll be late."

Bakugo's lips twitched as if to mirror his smile. "Thought you'd be in favor of me missing as many hero classes as possible." He said with hesitant, feeble humor, but he was already moving toward the door, and, with a final glance at Chisaki, he was gone, the door softly sliding shut behind him.

"Nice kid." A voice said behind Kai, and the man looked over his shoulder, meeting a thoughtful blue stare. "Maybe I didn't give them enough credit after all."

Chisaki rolled his eyes and sagged back against the pillows beneath him, fingers lacing with Hari's once more.

"You suck at faking sleep, you know."

A soft chuckle sounded through the room, the man's fingers clenching tightly around his.

"Oh shut up, Kai."

Chapter Text

"Do you think they'll like this?" Momo asked hesitantly as she surveyed the dusty, and slightly ramshackle room that had up until now been used exclusively for storage, a small frown creasing her forehead. "Once we've cleaned it up a bit?.."

"I don't know…" Deku mumbled thoughtfully beside her, dodging a precariously placed and swaying stack of broken chairs as he made his way around the room, examining their dust ridden surroundings, his green gaze contemplative. "Maybe…"

They now stood in the middle of the 4th floor storage room that was to be Chisaki and Kurono's new quarters, looking over the general debris you'd expect to find in storage in contemplative silence. Everywhere they looked there was some form of junk lying around: There were chairs and spare tables. Piles of pens and markers. Torn wrappers and papers lying here and there, strewn over the floor that seemed to be coated in such a fine layer of dust that its original color was long lost beneath it. Thick wads of wrapping paper stacked on top of each other. And a multitude of other spare objects that the kids already knew would take hours to clean out — an obviously long, grueling day way ahead of them.

"It looks a bit cramped." Uraraka mused with audible concern, her wide, brown eyes betraying her worry. "You really think this will house two people? I would know, I've lived in small apartments before…"

"That's probably just because of all the stuff lying around." Kirishima stated reasonably, scratching the back of his head as he examined the mess as well. "I'm sure it'll be much more spacious once we've cleaned up. 'Sides, didn't Cementoss say he'd make changes if it turned out too small? I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Can we just fucking get on with it already?!" Bakugo snapped from behind all of them, now visibly brimming with explosive annoyance and impatience as several heads turned in his direction. "We don't have all day!"

"Right!" Momo said, clapping her hands together and turning to the rest of the group. "We've already broken into teams of two and everybody knows their tasks! Let's do this! Go beyond! Plus Ultra!" She cried and the rest of the kids echoed her chant, the room soon devolving into laughter and easy chatter as each set about their work.

Momo had left several trash bags waiting just outside the door for everything deemed unusable, anything that could still be salvaged, however, would be transferred to one of the empty rooms on the second floor. The kids with the most physically strong and durable quirks such as Kaminari, Shoji and Sato were in charge of moving the more large objects downstairs with Iida and Tokoyami closely watching their progression and supporting them with Dark Shadow. The process was made more efficient when Sero came up with the idea to use his quirk as a makeshift crane system, though it didn't go without incident as evidenced by a resounding crash echoing down their stairwell which effectively lured Momo out of the room to see the full extent of the catastrophe.

The rest of the kids set about clearing out the smaller debris, Uraraka chatting cheerfully with Tsuyu and Mina as both of them loaded their arms with spare paper rolls, Aoyama merrily discussing his most recent trip to France with his parents to a mostly silent Shinsou while moving chairs out into the hallway and Shoto using his ice as a makeshift step stool and passing objects from the top of shelves of cabinets to Kaminari, Ojiro, Hagakure, Koda and Jiro waiting below.

In the chaos and chatter that descended upon the storage room that was soon to be Chisaki and Kurono's dwelling, Deku almost didn't notice Bakugo sidling up beside him until they were standing shoulder to shoulder, packing away the spare pens and other small objects in silence. Izuku kept his eyes downcast as he dutifully sealed up the small boxes Momo had given him once they were full and set them aside in favor of a new one. So he couldn't exactly hold back his flinch when Bakugo's voice suddenly spoke beside him, taking him entirely by surprise, the boy nearly dropping the miscellaneous objects he was holding and spinning around to face the classmate now standing beside him.

"I went to see Chisaki yesterday."

Deku's hands stilled in their movements for a brief second, before hastily resuming, the boy eager to hide his momentary reaction from his classmate. He was almost fearful of what he was about to ask next. Of continuing this line of conversation.

"Yeah?"

Deku could practically feel Bakugo's eyes boring into him as he purposely turned away from him, summoning everything within him to feign nonchalance.

"Yeah."

Izuku fell silent, not budging from where he stood with his gaze averted, still not looking at Bakugo, lips pursing as he stared down at the pack of fresh notebooks in dusty wrapping he still held in his arms, eyes already burning in their attempt to hold back tears.

Was he about to hear how Chisaki had rejected Bakugo too? Was he about to learn how Chisaki had told Bakugo to leave, how he had blamed him for being one of the people responsible for letting Hawks near him? Was he still frightened? Still terrified of the League coming after him? Still sure that the heroes would not be able to protect him?

…Was he still devoid of any hope of being saved?

"He's giving us another chance, Deku."

Deku froze where he stood, his hesitant, fearful and disbelieving eyes hesitantly meeting Bakugo's. The boy as if unable to process what he'd just heard, but at the same time unable to stem the feeble kindling of hope within him. 

"... What?"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either at first." Bakugo said gruffly, a frown creasing his forehead as he thoughtfully scrutinized the dusty shelves beside them, the look in his eyes far away. "But thinking about it, I guess it's less of a "giving us a second chance" and more of a "he won't keep us from trying" sorta way. I think he's resigned. I think he's certain the League is gonna take him back and now that he can't die to avoid it, he's decided to enjoy what little he can until that inevitable day comes. I think he's exhausted and has given up on trying to push people away, and I think we have to thank that Arrow Haired guy for the latter. Without him, I don't think Chisaki would've ever given us the time of day again."

Deku didn't dare draw breath. Didn't dare believe that what Bakugo was telling him was real. But hope burned within his chest anew nevertheless, bursting to life, blossoming from a feeble flicker of fire to a burning pyre, warmth spreading throughout his ribcage, encasing his heart.

He hadn't even realized how cold he'd felt…

"We can't screw this one up, Deku." Bakugo said, piercing him with his crimson stare. Rooting him to the spot. Making certain he understood the full gravity of their position. "We have one chance. Just the one. And as I've said, he's already setting us up for failure. He doesn't believe he can be saved. He doesn't believe he can be protected. It's our job to prove him wrong. We can't let something like that fiasco with Hawks happen again. You get me?"

"Yeah." Deku said, and was relieved to hear the firm determination in his own voice, no longer wavering. "Absolutely."

Bakugo nodded, and turned back toward the boxes they were packing, silent. Deku returned to his work as well, his mind reeling over what he'd just heard. Chisaki was giving them another chance. He was going to let them help him. Even if he didn't believe they would be successful, he was giving them a chance. The thought was enough to bring tears back to his eyes, and if Bakugo heard the quiet sniffle beside him, well, he didn't say a word.

It took them the better half of the day just to clean the room out completely. The rest was spent on mopping it top to bottom, getting rid of any remainder of dust and cobwebs. By the end, when evening had long since fallen upon the UA dorms and the sun had long since vanished beyond the horizon, they finished, standing in the now bizarrely barren room, examining it in contemplative silence. 

"Well, I think it's large enough to house two people. With a few adjustments." Momo said thoughtfully, looking up and down the former storage. "And Cementoss will take care of the bathroom and other amenities. All that's left for us is to furnish it."

The kids fell silent in the face of this new problem, staring at their surroundings, at a complete loss.

"What do they even like?" Mina asked, unusually hesitant. "We can't just fill the room with whatever and expect them to feel comfortable!"

"We can try to furnish it in the style of their past home, ribbit." Tsuyu said, glancing at Deku as she said so. "Uraraka and I didn't get a good look inside it though. Not like Midoriya and Toogata have."

Deku felt his cheeks flush as the rest of the group simultaneously turned their heads towards him, fixing him with several pairs of eyes. 

"Uh… well…" He said, desperately dredging up every memory he had of the yakuza base they had raided three years ago. "The underground tunnels were mostly bare and utilitarian. Same with the rooms. They didn't really have any furnishings. But the house itself was very traditional. Kind of like Todoroki's room."

Now it was Todoroki's turn to be stared at.

"... I can remodel it in the same style of my room if that is what they'd like." Shoto said slowly, visibly uncomfortable with so much attention upon him. "It's not a problem."

"We can still ask Kurono-san what they would like." Uraraka suggested. "Just to be sure that that they feel as at home as possible."

"Good idea." Momo nodded, clapping her hands together in approval. "And, for the time being, we'll probably have to make it a mix of modern too, put in a bed. I doubt Chisaki-san is yet well enough to sleep on a futon. Though it depends on Recovery Girl's recommendations, of course."

A chorus of agreement met her proposal and, with their plans set, the group began to slowly disperse, moaning and groaning and envisioning an early start to their classes the very next day. Soon only Bakugo and Deku remained, as well as, to their surprise, Todoroki.

"I wanted to speak to the two of you, Midoriya. Bakugo. Alone."

"What about, you half'n'half bastard?" Bakugo growled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and deliberately not turning to face his classmate. Deku merely shot him a curious glance.

Unperturbed, Shoto continued.

"Do you really think you can save Overhaul?"

Silence, cold and uncomfortable, fell upon the three of them.

"Of course we can." Bakugo said, the boy as if personally offended by such an absurd question. "We'll pull him outta this and kick the League's asses where the sun don't shine! You doubting us, Shitty Hair?!"

But Shoto only shook his head. "That's not at all what I meant."

And suddenly, as if something had clicked in his mind, Deku understood.

"This is about your father, isn't it?"

Hesitating for a split second, Shoto nodded.

"I won't pretend to know Overhaul's exact circumstances." He said, slowly and cautiously. Carefully weighing every word. "I'm only vaguely familiar with his case file… and most of what I do know is from Eri. And that alone is enough to make me think… can he change? Can he be changed? I know he's been hurt horrifically from what Aizawa-san has told us. And you have to be in a pretty bad place to try to commit suicide. But when all of this is over…when the dust settles… do you think he will truly be a different person? Do you believe you can accomplish that?"

When neither of them replied, Shoto looked away, seeming to radiate more and more discomfort with each second that passed.

"My old man… he's said he wants to change. The things he did to me as a child… to Mom, Fuyumi, Natsuo… the things he did to my big brother Touya… he says he realizes how monstrous they were now. Says he wants to atone. And I… I still don't know whether to believe him." Shoto shook his head slightly, finally meeting Midoriya's gaze. "I guess it is as you've said, Midoriya. I'll never forget what he did to us, but I want to start moving on with my life. I want to leave the past behind. I no longer want to let what happened rule over me for the rest of my life. But I still don't know whether I can believe that he's genuinely changing. So… how do you know Overhaul can change? How can you be so certain of it? What gives you the confidence that he can be saved and be made into a better person?"

"He's already changed, Todoroki." Deku said after a long pause, his voice quiet and grave. "He's not the same person he used to be. The part of Chisaki that used to be Overhaul… died at the hands of the League three years ago."

But even as he said this, his mind couldn't staunch the flow of memories from flashing before his eyes. Of Chisaki standing amongst crumbling stone, eyes narrowed in malice, hand outstretched, his body disfigured horrifically with four monstrous arms hanging at his sides. Of Chisaki shouting at him from the hospital bed, struggling beneath the crushing weight of Mirio holding him down, his face twisted in psychotic rage. But… no… that wasn't right. Something about the second memory was different. Something… but what?

"... He was scared." Deku murmured, almost to himself, not noticing the twin confused looks the others shot his way. "That wasn't Overhaul back there when he shouted at me. That was Chisaki. That was Chisaki's fear."

It was the eyes, Deku realized. The look in them had been starkly different. When Overhaul had taunted him in those underground chambers… when he had manipulated Eri into returning to him… the look in his eyes had been cold. Calculating. Malicious. The eyes of a predator. When they had been fighting, the look in them had been crazed in his rage, psychotic, out for blood. But when Chisaki had been lying in that hospital bed, bleeding out, his life hanging on by a thread… the only expression in his eyes was one of fear. Fear that he wouldn't be allowed to die. Fear that he wouldn't be able to escape. Fear that he would end up back in the hands of the League.

The Overhaul persona Chisaki had donned three years ago… had been completely erased.

Shaking his head, he turned back to meet Shoto's gaze, imploring, begging him to see what he did, to grasp the truth that was right there in front of them, to believe him. 

"Chisaki has seen the error of his ways." Deku said, serious and firm. "Probably in the most horrific way possible. He understands what he did to Eri now, and he's not the same man he once was for it. I can't speak for your dad with any certainty, Todoroki, but I can say that people do change. They can change. Chisaki can be saved. And that's what we're gonna do."

Deku was very aware of Bakugo watching him in his periphery, his expression unreadable. But he didn't turn to look at him, all his attention focused on Shoto. Todoroki stared at him for a long while, inscrutable, heterochromic eyes searching his. At last, he seemed to get the answer he wanted and he nodded, taking a step forward.

"In that case, I want to help." He said firmly, determination etched into every line of his face. "I want to help you save Chisaki."

Deku and Bakugo shared a look. Bakugo shrugged his shoulders. Deku nodded, a small smile just starting to tug at the corners of his lips.

"All right."

"You've done a good job." Aizawa said, looking up and down the newly cleaned and refurbished room, his class gathered proudly behind him. "This should be fine for the time being. Unless we think of a better place to house Kai Chisaki that is."

They were now standing in a small, but cozy living room, complete with an open kitchen and a sitting area with a small sofa and a TV. A large window decorated the opposite wall (one way glass, Aizawa knew), making the whole space seem more airy and a lot less cramped. To the left, past the kitchen isle was the tiny hallway connecting the living room to two small bedrooms and a bathroom. The whole place screamed traditional Japanese setting, but with an air of comfortable modernity to it. Todoroki's doing, Aizawa supposed. The kid had good taste he'd give him that. So all that was left was…

"The security measures will be put in some time today." The man said, turning back to face his class, his dark eyes fixing upon each of them in turn. "Cameras and alarms above the door and windows. I assume you've all memorized your instructions that you are to follow unequivocally from here on out?"

"We are to lock our rooms after we retire for the night and limit any nightly wanderings to a minimum." Iida recited, chopping the air in front of him in his usual enthusiastic hand motions. "We are to follow a curfew of nine pm every day without exceptions. All potentially dangerous possessions including but not limited to support items are to be kept out of sight. We are also to keep a close eye on one another to ensure all of our safety and keep as much distance from Kurono and Chisaki for the time being."

"That's right." Aizawa said, his attention turning towards his phone, thumb opening up his most recent messages. "Though we do not believe either Chisaki, or Kurono will resort to violence — it's best if we do not take any chances. They will be confined to these quarters every day after sunset, and there will be constant monitoring of the hallway outside, day and night. If they step outside these quarters when they're not supposed to — we'll know of it immediately. Rest of the time, when all of you are in class, they will be free to roam this building, but this building only. Though we do not wish to make them feel like prisoners, we can't risk them being seen by anyone else on campus for the time being. The fewer people know, the better."

"Um… sir?" Izuku spoke, and Aizawa looked up from his phone, his dark onyx eyes fixing upon the student before him.

"What is it?"

"When do you think Chisaki will be moved here? It's just, Recovery Girl wasn't very specific about it…"

Aizawa fixed his student with a long look.

"Chisaki is still recovering his strength." He said at last after a moment of contemplation. "However, Recovery Girl says he should be able to handle being transferred the short distance from the main building to here within the week. Cementoss is working on an underground transportation corridor for that exact purpose as we speak."

The boy nodded, satisfied with the answer, but not too comforted, and Aizawa breathed a heavy sigh, pocketing his phone and facing the students, hands slipping back into his pockets as he did so.

"Chisaki will also need intensive physical therapy." The man said, now stern. "Years of malnutrition and months of bedrest have taken their toll on his body. His muscles have atrophied significantly, and as of right now — he's not capable of walking, or even standing without assistance. Recovery Girl has been helping him with small exercises to stave off some of the more negative effects of being bedridden, but it's far from enough. You will all be expected to pick up some of the slack once he's here. You will be in charge of helping Chisaki get back on his feet once Recovery Girl sends you his physical therapy routine. I expect you to take this responsibility seriously, because otherwise there's a good chance Chisaki will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

He could see the horror spread across his students' faces, could see the way Bakugo's eyes slightly widened and the way Midoriya's throat flexed in a heavy swallow. But he didn't apologize for it, didn't try to soften the blow. They had to know the stakes here. No matter how harsh that sounded.

The crisp, late October air hit his face as he exited the dorm building and made his way down the stone steps, hands shoved deep into his pant pockets. Distant shouts and student conversations reached his ears as he slowly made his way down the leaf strewn path back to the main building, daydreams of a nap slipping into his brain unbidden, of their own accord, despite the man knowing full well that he would be spending the next three hours grading homework. So caught up was he in his mourning of a lost opportunity to rest, that he almost didn't notice the voice calling out to him from the nearby benches, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey! Aizawa, right? Come sit with me for a moment."

Tilting his head, Aizawa turned on his heel and approached the nearby bench, staring,  inscrutable, at the man before him.

"Gran Torino, right? You were the one who captured the villain Kurogiri."

"That's right." The old man beamed, and rifled around in the plastic bag hanging off his walking stick, pulling out a Taiyaki and offering it to him. "Though I do not think he is called Kurogiri these days but the believed deceased former student, Oboro Shirakumo."

Aizawa tensed visibly, but sank down on the bench willingly as the older man patted the spot beside him, both staring at the training field opposite them and the distant figures of students exercising upon it. "Shirakumo is dead."

"So they say." Gran Torino replied, thoughtful. "He certainly hasn't displayed any recollection of once being Shirakumo yet, has he? Just a mindless puppet for the League of Villains… no matter how much you and Yamada visit him, try to remind him of his origins…"

"Is there any purpose behind your visit to UA?" Aizawa interrupted, eager to change the subject as soon as possible. He stubbornly ignored the side eyed look the old man shot his way.

"Now that you mention it, yes. I'm here to visit Toshinori. And catch a glimpse of Midoriya, if he's not too busy training that is. He's graduating this year, I believe. Between that and this business with Kai Chisaki, he must be swamped."

Aizawa didn't reply, staring emotionlessly into the distance. Noticing that he wasn't going to get a reply, Torino continued.

"I heard of what happened with Chisaki, Aizawa."

Aizawa breathed a heavy sigh. "So you have… what of it? Midoriya and Bakugo interfered just in time. He's still alive thanks to them. That's what matters most here, right?"

"Yes…" Torino murmured. "But for how long?"

Aizawa shot him a look. Torino exhaled heavily, a faint cloud of mist escaping his mouth as hot air met cold and swiftly dissipating into nothing.

"I'm old, Aizawa. I still remember the dark days, before All Might's debut. Nowadays it's a rare thing, to encounter a case as grisly as this. With so many heroes around, it's far more difficult to kidnap a person and keep them for an extended period of time. And harder still to dispose of a body and remain unseen, or leave no clues that would point to your identity. It's only recently that we have become so complacent and forgotten the level of cruelty humans are capable of. But back in my day, these cases weren't so uncommon. I myself have saved several from similar situations… and lost a lot more."

The bag rustled as Torino reached into it and brought out another Taiyaki, taking a thoughtful bite. "Those I lost… I still remember each and every single one of their names. Even now, I still visit their grave sites, so many years later, on the days that they took their lives. On the days that I failed them. A lot of heroes have forgotten that the simple action of fighting and apprehending villains is actually the easiest part of being a hero. And that the most difficult — is actually saving. But being an underground hero, you should know that better than anyone."

Aizawa looked away, expressionless. But Torino didn't need to be able to read his emotions to guess what he was feeling. Or thinking.

"Battling someone face to face is easy. But how do you confront a foe you can't see? How do you battle something like depression? Something that can't be touched, something you can't purge by using your fists, or putting in shackles and shipping to the closest prison. How do you fight back against something like that? And in fact, many heroes don't. Many prefer to close their eyes to it and lay the responsibility on someone else, usually medical professionals, while the heroes get all the glory, praise and attention. But I grew up in a world where being a hero meant something very different than what it means now. You see, I grew up in an age where being a hero meant saving people. Instead of merely fighting villains."

"That subtle difference is lost on many people these days. They conflate the idea of saving with the simple action of defeating a villain. Not realizing that putting a scumbag in cuffs is just half the job. They don't spare a second thought to the victims they liberate from the grip of a villain, and most of the time they get away with it, because crime has fallen to such a low that most of the offenses heroes encounter these days are petty crimes. A stolen purse here, a case of vandalism there. And while it is a good thing, it has also softened us. It has warped the true meaning of being heroic. With the appearance of this League of Villains, we're swiftly heading back towards the dark ages now, and the heroes must start picking up the slack. And right now — they're failing to do so."

"But this new generation we're raising here… It gives me hope. It makes me think that perhaps the true idea of heroism is still alive. Perhaps we're not as lost as I thought we were. So, I guess you could say that I'm here to see if it's true and my hopes aren't just wishful thinking. I want to see if he's really, truly ready to do everything he has to to save Kai Chisaki, in the truest sense of the word."

"Chisaki may still die. And you know it very well." Aizawa said, darkly. Torino turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

"Hm?"

"Chisaki's already tried to kill himself once. Who's to say he won't try to do so again? In that case it's irrational to give my students false hope like this. It might even be better to tell them now that he's a lost cause and let them get used to the idea before Chisaki dies."

"Yes, that is true. But you don't believe he will." Torino said, leveling Aizawa with a shrewd look. "Otherwise you would not have suggested that he be moved to the dorms next to the kids. You see potential in them. As much as I do. You have faith. You believe they have a real chance of being successful."

"Chance. Not a guarantee."

"Nonetheless. You believe your students have a real shot of saving him, as I've said. Even if there's no guarantee that they'll succeed. With cases like this, there never really is."

"Yeah well." Aizawa said, avoiding the old man's gaze. "I hope I'm not wrong with the choice I've made here. Let's just say I don't want them to have a grave site of their own to visit in a few years. Not like you."

Torino breathed a heavy sigh, his eyes falling to his walking stick. "Yes... That is the hope here, isn't it?"

"There, you're all set dear."

Chisaki looked heartbreakingly small as he was helped into a wheelchair by Recovery Girl and Kurono, the UA issued clothes seeming baggy and oversized where they were pulled over his emaciated form. His arm had been freshly rebandaged, the cut further, but not fully, healed by the nurse's quirk. The woman had explained that with how weak he still was her quirk could be dangerous to him, so she couldn't use much of it. It was energy based, after all. And excess energy was exactly one of the things that Kai lacked now most of all.

"It's after hours, so there won't be any students out and about in the hallways. Nobody to disturb you. You'll be at the new place before you know it, the kids got it all nice and ready for you."

But those kind words of the school nurse did very little to assuage Kai's anxiety. Did very little to reassure him. Suddenly he realized just how much he didn't want to step beyond the tiny ward that had been his home for the last few months, had been his safe haven, before Hawks' visit had shattered every illusion he had of his security. But as much as he couldn't trust the ward to conceal him anymore, he trusted the outside world even less. The mere thought of stepping outside, of being so exposed, out in the open, he couldn’t… couldn't…

What if he was snatched again? What if Dabi came out of nowhere to steal him back? Kai could already see the blue fire licking the walls of UA, creeping closer and closer, piercing screams of agony barely audible over the deafening crackling of flames as the heroes surrounding him turned to ash. Leaving him all alone in the inferno, a creepy, Cheshire grin slowly emerging from behind the curtain of black smoke…

"Kai."

A soft hand clasped around his shoulder, and Chisaki flinched as he was abruptly brought back to reality, only now realizing that he was hyperventilating, his breath coming in short, rapid, shallow gasps. Hari's concerned face slowly swam into view as the man came around the wheelchair and kneeled before him, brows knitted together in worry. 

Shame left a bitter taste in Kai's mouth.

"They're not going to be out there, Kai. Nobody's going to harm you. Not while I'm here." Hari whispered, as if reading Kai's anxious thoughts, the look in his blue eyes steady, radiating assurance. "I promise."

Chisaki averted his eyes, embarrassed, his chin dipping in a shallow nod of acknowledgement as he did so and fingers clutching the purple blanket draped over his lap as Hari rose back to his feet, reaching for the handles of the wheelchair to push him forward.

A hesitant knock drew the attention of the three occupants of the room as the door creaked cautiously open, two familiar faces peering anxiously through the crack.

"Hey." Deku said quietly, pushing the door open wider and stepping hesitantly over the threshold, his eyes sweeping sheepishly over each of their faces in turn. "We thought we'd come… help with the move."

Bakugo nodded where he stood behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his jaw clenched and tense. He didn't avoid Chisaki's gaze when the yakuza chanced a glance at him, and somehow the boy's firm nod was a reassurance, Chisaki relaxing in his seat upon seeing it. Just a little. 

"Cementoss is waiting for us downstairs." Deku informed them, his voice higher than usual, nervous and wavering. Shame once again choked Chisaki's throat, the memories of his last conversation with the boy all too fresh in his mind. The image of the rejected book still hovering before his eyes. "We'll be going through the parking lot and down the passageway he has constructed. It'll lead us right into our dorm building. Principal Nezu hopes that this will lessen the chance of us being seen… we're still trying to limit the amount of people who know of your presence here after all and keep all this under wraps. I-I know it'll probably be unpleasant. It'd be nice for you to get some fresh air, you've been cooped up in such a small room for so long. Although you probably don't feel comfortable being outside a-and that's completely understandable too! With what happened… you have every right to blame us and fearful of your surroundings… and even though you don't trust us right now, I promise you that we'll protect you— OUCH!"

"You're rambling, Deku." Bakugo said, watching with indifference as the other boy rubbed his abused shoulder, completely unapologetic for smacking him. "We don't have all night, let's get this show on the road."

"Yes. Let's." Hari said, visibly disturbed and watching the two students with bemusement, but seemed to decide not to comment on their behavior, instead taking hold of the wheelchair handles. The boys turned towards the door, however, before they could even take a few steps toward it, a quiet whimper stopped them in their tracks, and they turned to glance over their shoulders, freezing in shock at the sight before them.

Kurono was leaning over the back of the wheelchair, his cheek pressed against Chisaki's, and his arm extended, gently gripping Chisaki's bandaged wrist that was suddenly pressed trembling against the man's chest, the injured yakuza's fingers clutching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. They couldn't see Kurono's face, the arrow shaped strands of his hair falling over his features and obscuring his expression from view, but they could see that he was now murmuring something, his other arm coming up to softly embrace Kai's shaking form. Recovery Girl was at their side too, gently stroking Kai's elbow, the look on her face sorrowful.

At last, Kai nodded, and Hari straightened, pushing the wheelchair forward, and followed the boys outside the ward and Recovery Girl's office and into the lonely hallways beyond.

The hour wasn't that late, but the sun had already had time to sink behind the horizon, casting deep shadows upon the world around them. Dim beams of light from the street lamps below filtered through the large windows of UA as they walked slowly down the hallway to the nearest elevator, a gentle chime sounding through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between the four of them. The ride downstairs didn't take long, and soon they were emerging into the empty parking lot, Chisaki visibly scrunching his nose at the persistent smell of diesel and exhaust fumes.

Cementoss met them around the corner and directed them towards the entryway to the underground passage he had constructed, the entrance placed strategically so as to be innocuous and out of sight. Deku doubted they would've been able to spot it so easily were it not for the help.

Thankfully, the walk to the entrance to the dorms was swift as well and far too short for claustrophobia to properly set in, the floor sloping gently upward and the small procession emerging into bright lights and a roar of noise.

"There you are, Midoriya! Bakugo" Iida greeted, immediately bustling towards them, dodging a squabbling Sero and Kaminari along the way. "It was about time you arrived!" And, turning to Chisaki and Kurono, he extended a hand, beaming in what he clearly believed to be the most welcoming smile. "We have already been introduced briefly, but I am Tenya Iida, class rep! Allow me to formally welcome you to our abode!"

"Hey, that's not fair, I wanted to greet them first." Came Kirishima's voice from somewhere in the excited crowd gathered around them, soon followed by the red-haired hero in training himself, the boy grinning widely with all his sharpened teeth on display. "Again, I'm Eijiro Kirishima. You're gonna like it here, Chisaki! I promise!"

"I'm Rikido Sato, I made these for the two of you. Think of it as a welcoming present." Sato said from where he had appeared beside Kirishima, pushing a warm package insistently into Hari's arms who, by the surprised and alarmed expression on his face, had clearly not expected the sudden gift. "I didn't know what you'd like, so I made several stuff for you to try. Imagawayaki, some mochi, ooh, I also put some mushi pan there too…"

"Guys, I thought we weren't going to crowd them." Momo spoke up, concerned, her voice elevating so as to reach them as the crowd loudly praised Sato on his generosity and at the same time lamented why he hadn't made them any sweets as well. "We agreed to give them space…"

"Good idea, Yaoyorozu." Said a low voice behind them, and the crowd turned around, wilting as one under Shota Aizawa's stern glare. "Chisaki and Kurono have had a long day. It would be more prudent to let them go up to their rooms and settle in. You can properly welcome them in the morning."

"Yes, sir." The class chorused as one, visibly abashed, and parted, letting Chisaki and Kurono walk past and follow Aizawa upstairs, Deku and Bakugo trailing close behind them.

"Your quarters will be down here." Aizawa said, pointing them to a door at the end of the hall. "The door right next to yours is Bakugo's. If you need anything, you only need to turn to him."

Bakugo nodded in confirmation, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his red eyes not hesitating to meet Chisaki and Kurono's. Aizawa made a gesture towards the elevators, fixing both kids with his onyx stare.

"Rejoin your classmates downstairs for now. I need to speak to Chisaki and Kurono alone for a moment."

Visibly wary, the boys hesitated at the doorway before turning on their heels as their teacher had bid. Aizawa watched them go, before turning away with a heavy sigh, following the two yakuza inside the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

"These will be your quarters for the time being. The staff and my students have fixed it up for you according to your requests. I hope you find it satisfactory?" He asked, watching as the two men stopped to survey and examine the new area, Kurono nodding slightly as he did so.

"Yes, this will suit our needs quite well. Thank you." The man replied curtly, helping Kai out of the wheelchair and onto the small sofa, Chisaki sinking into the cushions gratefully, relieved to be out of such an uncomfortable seat. "Is there anything more you'd want to say, or is it all right if we turn in for the night? We're exhausted, and would welcome the chance to settle in."

The tone didn't surprise Aizawa, far from it, he had expected it. He knew just how little trust either yakuza had in him. But as much as they both wanted for this conversation to be over and to go their separate ways, he had to make sure that this one thing that he was about to say was clear.

"You are aware of all the rules you are to follow, yes? Recovery Girl has informed you?"

Kurono stiffened, and so did Chisaki, the two sharing a glance, the latter somehow looking even more unwell than he already did.

"Yes."

"You are aware then, that if you break a single rule — you will be sent back to prison, right?"

Kurono's hands clenched and when he spoke again he did so through clenched teeth. "Yes."

"Good." Aizawa said, his eyes flashing red and his hair lifting from his shoulders as his quirk activated, fixing the man before him with a glare that was cold as ice. "Because if you do… and if you hurt any one of my students… I will make sure you regret it. Got it?"

To his credit, Kurono didn't flinch, didn't recoil, instead meeting his gaze fearlessly, his hand unconsciously coming up to rub at the wrist that had been pierced by Tamaki's quirk three years ago.

"Yes."

Aizawa's hair fell back to his shoulders, and he turned back to the door, hand settling upon the handle.

"Good. I wish goodnight to you both then. We'll see you in the morning." And with that, he left Kurono and Chisaki's room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Chapter Text

The sky was dark and overcast, a swirling grey mass of depressing storm clouds overhead. Cold rain was drizzling down upon the city below, most people hiding beneath their umbrellas to shield themselves from it, shivering and cursing the unpleasant weather as they briskly walked past. Others preferred to wait it out in malls and nearby cafés, staring out through the windows at the bleak world seized by a storm outside from inside warmly lit and cozy establishments.

Several students rushed past him as he walked down the darkened street, splashing through the puddles that had already formed and laughing as they covered their heads from the steadily increasing torrent of rain with their school bags. On the other side of the street, a mother was leading her son home from school, the small boy humming and jumping along beside her, his hand clasped tightly in hers as he did so.

"It's raining, it's pouring. The old man is snoring…"

The voice slowly trailed away, becoming quieter and quieter as the pair walked farther down the street, magnifying the distance between them and the silently watchful hero.

"He went to bed and he bumped his head. And he couldn't get up in the morning…"

Mirio stopped in the middle of the street, surveying the passerby from beneath the hood of the coat he had thrown over his hero costume in silence. 

He was almost done with his patrol, and it would seem that it would be an uneventful one. All looked peaceful, there were no disturbances on the streets, no villains in sight, merely people going home from work, or school. There wasn't really much to do now but to head back to the agency, hand in his reports to Moashi, and retire to his lonely apartment for the night. Maybe he'd get in touch with Tamaki and see if he wanted to come over for a game night. But knowing the other hero, he'd be up to his neck in work at the FatGum agency.

Some other time then.

Breathing a heavy sigh, Mirio dropped his gaze to the wet pavement below and resumed his patrol, his misery only increasing as thunder rolled overhead, a flash of white lightning briefly throwing the evening city into sharp focus. A car came rushing around the corner as he neared a crossing, its windows obscured by the now thick curtain of rain, and Mirio leapt back just in time, barely avoiding the worst of the splash of filthy rainwater from beneath the vehicle's wheels as it sped past. Cursing under his breath, he stared angrily after the driver, unable to quite stifle the bitter feeling of resentment that bubbled up within his chest.

Mirio knew he should be able to just laugh it off. Crack a joke and move along. What would people think if they saw a hero cursing his head off, or throwing rude signs after a car over something as small as stains on his hero costume that could easily be washed out? He was supposed to be a shining example for everyone. Not another rude schmuck on the street. All Might would never be caught doing that, would never permit himself such behavior, he was well known to have laughed off even worse offences. Hell, Mirio himself had been able to laugh such things off before. So… what had changed? What had happened?

Depression. Depression is what had happened.

“You have reported that you've been experiencing nightmares again.”

The woman sitting across from him said quietly, eyebrows pinching together as she thumbed thoughtfully through the notes of their last meeting.

“These sessions are no longer helping? Have you experienced any more nightmares since last time?”

Not meeting her eyes, Mirio nodded.

“Almost every night.”

A sigh left the woman's lips.

“The same?”

Mirio nodded a second time, his blue eyes fixed on his clasped hands.

“Yes… my uh… my mentor, Sir Nighteye, impaled on a stone spike that Overhaul created, with Eri crying in the background. Then the scene changes and I'm in the hospital, my mentor lying dead on the hospital bed, and I hear the sound of a flatline as he dies. But…”

The psychiatrist looked at him.

“But what?”

Visibly uncomfortable, Mirio shrugged.

“Lately… in my dreams… it's as if my senpai is looking at me. And he's looking at me with judgement.”

The woman made a note in her notepad, putting down her pen afterwards and fixing him with her searching, unyielding stare.

“You feel as if your senpai is judging you?” She asked for clarification.

Mirio swallowed, hands just barely starting to tremble.

“Yes.”

“Why do you feel as if he might be judging you? You're a successful hero. Your record is nothing short of admirable. You have helped at least ten people just this week. Many owe their lives to you. There is nothing for you to be ashamed of, Mirio.”

Mirio hesitated before opening his mouth and speaking up again, choosing his words carefully.

“There is a… a case that I had turned down recently… like a few weeks ago… a person that I refused to help. I can't give you the details… it's still an active case.”

The psychiatrist nodded in understanding and made another note, watching him carefully.

“Is it possible for you to tell me, naturally without giving me any details, or disclosing the victim's identity, why you turned down the case? Were you perhaps swamped with open cases and couldn't take on another because of it? Because that is nothing for you to be ashamed of, Mirio. We're all only human.”

“No… no, nothing like that.” Mirio murmured, his mouth feeling dry. “I couldn't take the case because of the victim's villainous past.”

The woman looked up at him sharply, surprise written plainly across her features.

“The victim was a villain?”

Fearing that he had already said too much, Mirio nodded and hastened to add.

“Yes, from one of a… a colleague's old cases. They… they asked if I could assist and I… I turned them down.”

Even this half-truth felt dirty to utter. Felt like a complete lie. Only made him feel even worse, because at the end of the day he knew he couldn't truly be honest with her. Couldn't tell everything he was feeling. Couldn't take the load off his own shoulders. Forced to lie even in a space that was in theory designed to be safe, designed to be a place in which he could be honest.

He couldn't tell her about Chisaki. Couldn't put him in that kind of danger. Couldn't sabotage Tsukauchi's investigation. Couldn't undermine… everything Deku had done to get this far. Everything that Mirio couldn't. Everything that Mirio had refused to do. He couldn't — he wouldn't —

A heavy sigh sounded in front of him and Mirio looked up, watching as the psychiatrist set her notebook aside, levelling him with her searching, almost piercing stare, hands lacing together in front of her.

“You are aware, Mr Toogata, that everything you tell me is confidential, right?” She said, her voice the softest that Mirio had ever heard it. “None of what you say will ever leave this room. Because of the sensitive nature of the cases heroes deal with on a daily basis, the HPSC keeps a close eye on all medical personnel who work with heroes. In fact, you need a special licence from HPSC to be able to work with heroes in the first place. Not to mention sign a whole lot of NDAs with the government. All this to say — if you need to get something off your chest, you can. You can be honest with me here, Mirio. I promise, I will not betray your confidence.”

“I… understand.” Mirio said, his voice sounding thick in his throat. “But I cannot tell you… As I've said it's still an ongoing investigation and…”

He couldn't meet her eyes, staring down instead at his flexing fingers. But what she said next made his head snap upwards, jaw slackening just slightly in his shock.

“The villain in question… is he perhaps from one of your old cases, Mirio?”

He knew the answer was written all over his face even before his mind could catch up to deny it. Knew that she could so easily read the truth in his eyes, in his expression. But he… he couldn't…

A soft hand reached out and clasped around his, and Mirio looked at her in surprise, meeting the therapist's gaze. The fingers wrapped around his hand released the moment he did so, successful in their mission of grasping his attention and the woman sighed, her eyes never leaving Mirio's.

“Do you feel like your deceased senpai would judge you for not being able to help this person, Mirio?”

Mirio didn't answer, but he had a feeling he didn't need to. The answer was obvious. When she spoke again, the therapist's voice was gentle.

“It's only human not to be able to help everyone, Mirio.” She said at last, and he could tell she was choosing her words with utmost care. “We are but creatures of emotion. Not taking the case was probably the best decision you could have made in those sorts of circumstances. You realized your judgement could be clouded, that it could interfere with the case and perhaps even sabotage it, and so you relegated the task to someone else. Nighteye would've been proud of you for that, Mirio. Proud of this choice you made. He has no reason to judge you.”

“I know.” Mirio whispered, so choked up he could barely speak. “I know…”

So why did Nighteye still haunt his dreams?

The woman stared at him for a few moments, contemplating. She then turned back to her notepad, not looking at him as she stated.

“I think we should try some medication to help you sleep for now. We shall see how you are in our next session…”

The alleyway before him was a yawning pit of black shadows rising up through the thick curtain of rain. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated it, bringing the familiar gap between buildings into sharp focus before casting it back into darkness. Mirio stopped in front of it before he could even realize he had done so, his blue eyes staring into the pitch black darkness as if they were staring at an old wound dealt to him many years ago.

And was that really so far off from the truth? Wasn't this where it had all started, three years ago? When his mentor's fate had been fully set in stone?

Before he could question himself as to what he was doing, Mirio stepped off the pavement of the sidewalk and ventured into the claustrophobic confines of the alleyway, his hand trailing along weathered, cracked bricks as he walked past.

“Hard to admit that you can't control your own child. But lately, Eri defies me no matter what I try.”

Overhaul's voice seemed to echo off the stone walls surrounding him, golden eyes glaring eerily at him from the depths of the dark interstice of the two buildings, flaring purple with the next flash of lightning. Mirio glared at him, silent.

“What do you try?”

But that had been a question asked by another. What had instead left his mouth three years ago had been:

“Parenting, huh? Sounds rough, that can't be easy.”

Fool. He should’ve lunged when Chisaki had his back turned toward him. Should’ve told Deku to grab the girl and run. With his quirk, it would've been all too easy for Midoriya to use the close standing walls to propel himself upwards and get several blocks away before the villain could so much as blink. And Mirio could've distracted the villain long enough to permit him to get even farther away than that, his Permeation a perfect counter to Overhaul. Chisaki would've been limited in his movements here, in this narrow crevice between buildings. The villain had taken them off the main street for a reason, unwilling to draw attention to himself. Because he hadn't been fool enough to fight in the open and face off against several heroes that would no doubt come running towards the commotion at once. Not unless he was cornered and had no other options. He had tried to quietly escape during the raid too, before he had realized he had no other choice but to do his own dirty work instead of burdening others with the job. With him being alone here, with his men being too far away to aid him, his smartest option would've been to escape Mirio and go underground and wait for the perfect opportunity to steal Eri back. An opportunity that they would never have given him…

But back then, Mirio had not been sure of that. Had not dared to take that chance. Had not been certain of what exactly Overhaul was capable of. What lengths Overhaul would go to in order to get Eri back.

If he had just made a different decision back then… If he had taken the risk… then maybe Nighteye would still be alive. And Chisaki? Chisaki would be in Tartarus. Rotting in his hatred, his failed plans and wounded pride at his defeat, but safe. Unharmed. Not… not…

“FINISH THE FUCKING JOB! KILL ME! PUT ME OUT OF MY GODDAMN MISERY YOU—”

Slamming his fist against the wall, Mirio collapsed against it, a sob wringing itself past his lips, eyes staring up at the stormy heavens above. 

It wasn't fair… It wasn't… it wasn't…

“What am I supposed to do, Sir?” He whispered, his voice coming out broken even to his own ears. “Tell me what am I supposed to do?”

He had thought he had made peace with it. The fact that he could not help Chisaki. Everyone he'd spoken to had assured him that that was the best decision he could've made, given the circumstances. Mr Aizawa. Principal Nezu. His therapist. Even Deku himself had accepted it. Eventually. For half a second, Mirio had glimpsed the disappointment in the other boy's eyes. The resentment. The judgement. There and gone within seconds, replaced with understanding, acceptance, but there nonetheless. 

“You're a hero. You're supposed to help.”

“Yeah, well I can't help him.”

Shame choked him, along with self loathing. Surely Nighteye would be disappointed in him if he could see him now, regardless of what his therapist had said. Surely he would judge him. Surely…

The warmth of his teacher's hand against his cheek barely brought him comfort as he stared into the eyes of the dying man. His tears blurred his vision as he watched those eyes flash purple as Foresight was activated for the very last time.

“You're going to become the finest hero the world's ever seen… work hard… and be sure to smile.”

But the smile wouldn't form on his face now. Wouldn't appear no matter how hard he tried. How could he even attempt to smile, in a situation such as this? How could he? What right did he have to smile… when he had failed at his job as a hero?

When he looked up, Chisaki was standing before him, watching him. A flash of lightning illuminated the cramped alleyway, making the stained walls behind the yakuza's transparent form briefly glow a dirty silver before being plunged back into darkness, the two men staring each other down, neither saying a word. Mirio studied the villain's expression, trying to figure out what he was thinking, behind that horrid beak mask obscuring half of his face.

This was not the Chisaki that Mirio had seen in Recovery Girl's ward, but the one he had known three years ago. The one he had met in this very alley. The one he had fought amidst a maze of stone spikes. Chisaki's cheeks weren't sunken like they were when he'd seen him in that ward, they were fuller, his eyes free of the dark bags beneath them and his features not lined with fear, exhaustion and pain. His hair was shorter, a lush dark brown, void of the silver streaks that prolonged stress had left upon him. Chisaki seemed stronger, healthier as well, filling out his clothes properly instead of being drowned by them. Instead of them hanging like rags off the skeleton that he had become.

But by far the most startling difference were the eyes. The eyes Chisaki was looking down at him with now were focused, sharp as a knife's edge, glowing eerily in the flashes of lightning overhead. Despite their brightness, the rich golden shine, there was no warmth within them, no flicker of emotion, no presence of humanity. Instead they were cold. So cold that their icy chill seemed to permeate the space between them, creep into Mirio's being, into his very bones.

A predator's eyes. A wolf’s eyes. A monster's eyes. Eyes that had haunted Mirio's dreams for years.

But not the eyes that he had seen in that wretched ward.

“Who are you now?” He asked the ghostly figure, his voice so faint he wasn't sure his words could actually reach the other through the hail and heavy rainfall raging around them. “Have you really changed?”

It was a stupid question, perhaps. But one he still found himself asking, ever since laying eyes upon the broken form in that lonely ward. Even as Chisaki was writhing in his grip, fighting, pleading for an end that they would not deliver him, Mirio still kept asking himself the same question, still kept wondering if what he was seeing was really the truth. The excuses that he had given Deku, the words that he had comforted himself with almost every night since then, sounded feebler and feebler to him every time he uttered them.

When he didn't get what he wanted he resorted to anger and violence… he wanted out and he didn't care who he had to hurt to do it. But had Chisaki been angry at the heroes for thwarting him? Or had he been more angry at himself for failing to end his own life before they could stop him? Had he maliciously sought to hurt Deku, to cause him as much pain and distress as possible? Or had he believed that by finally being free of him the boy would be better off? That he would experience relief? Had he sought to die as some statement of defiance? One last slight against the heroes? Or had he been in so much pain that he could no longer stand to draw breath?

He didn't have to target Deku the way he did. Mirio reminded himself. If his actions had been purely selfless, he never would've hurt him that way. He didn't have to drag him into it. People don't change, especially not on their deathbed. The viper that was Overhaul was still in there. He was still in there! He was still that same monster from three years ago!

… wasn't he?

A cracking sound broke the silence that had fallen upon the dark alleyway, and when Mirio looked back the ghostly, ghastly image of Overhaul was breaking apart at the seams, slowly turning to dust before his eyes. Blue flames licked up his form, hiding him from the hero’s view, twisting the shadows of the alleyway into monstrous, violent, grotesque forms — and suddenly he was gone, as if he'd never even been there in the first place, the shadows cast by lightning instead dancing on those same stained, weathered bricks of the building's wall.

And Mirio finally had his answer.

Hari woke with a start to a shrill ringing in his ear.

Shooting upright, he didn't withhold a groan as pain radiated up his spine and throughout his skull, hand blindly groping around for his phone, his sleepless, bleary eyes staring at the numbers displayed on the screen as he shut off the alarm.

The UA-issued device he had been so graciously given was fairly limited in its functions, with only a few contacts installed onto it and was strictly monitored by Nezu's security system 24/7, so so far Hari had only dared use it as an alarm clock. And right now, he was regretting even that.

The previous night had been…difficult, to say the least. Instead of serving to soothe his anxiety, the new place seemed only to increase it, Chisaki unable to drift off to sleep and wrenching awake the moment he began to doze. Unable to return to his own bed and leave Kai in such a state, Hari had ended up slipping beneath the covers with him, letting Kai cling to him, and wrapping his own arms around him in turn.

It wasn't the first time they'd shared a bed. Far from it. It wasn't even the first time they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. Hari remembered many times during their childhood when they'd sought comfort in each other's embraces. He wasn't sure when it had started, it seemed so long ago now. Perhaps it had begun with him, that was in all likelihood how it had first transpired. Hari had always been the more physically affectionate child out of the two of them. Perhaps he had snuck into Kai's bed after they had watched a horror movie when they weren't supposed to. Perhaps he'd had a bad day at school. Whatever the reason had been - Kai hadn't turned him away, and it slowly became their routine. Whenever one was upset, they would crawl into the other's bed and seek the comfort that they knew would always be freely offered them. It was their secret. Their special connection.

And in twenty years - that much hadn't changed a bit between them.

When Chisaki's breath had evened out in sleep and it was clear he would not jerk awake again, Hari had carefully extricated himself from the other man's embrace and tiptoed to the kitchen, in a sudden, dire need of a smoke. He couldn't open the window, not during the night, not without triggering an alarm that would summon heroes to their quarters. Neither could he open the door and step out into the hallway for the same reason. Out of other options, he had instead settled for the kitchen, hoping that the acrid scent of nicotine would not reach the bedroom where Kai was getting his much needed rest, and that it would dissipate in the morning when he'd finally be permitted to crack open a window.

He had ended up falling asleep at the table like that, having not realized just how exhausted he really was, face buried in his arms, cigarette ashes cooling in a nearby tray.

Rising to his feet, Hari winced at the sharp ache that shot up his spine a second time, automatically cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. The cool, early morning air was a fresh and welcome breeze against his face when he finally cracked open a window, and he didn't hold himself back from greedily drinking it in, leaning against the cool surface of the window pane. Even a few hours without such simple luxury reminded him too much of prison, reminded him that whatever the heroes said about them being guests at this school — they were still no less prisoners.

From where he was standing, Hari could already glimpse the faint stirrings of life among the other inhabitants of UA: the movement behind darkened windows, the small figures of early morning joggers turning back to their dorms for a quick shower and breakfast before class. 3A must be getting ready too, just outside their door. But Hari had no desire to go out and mingle with them. None whatsoever. Would instead wait until they had all gone before making his way down to the dorm common room. Besides, Kai was still asleep. If he were to wake while Hari was absent…

A timid knock on the door pulled him away from his thoughts, and he reluctantly made his way over, unlocking it from his end, the locks Nezu had installed to keep them inside during night hours having been deactivated automatically once the clock struck 6 AM. A mop of green hair greeted him on the other side, a fist half raised to knock again quickly lowering and hiding sheepishly behind the back of its skittish owner. Faint movement from the corner of his eye informed Hari that the hero's classmate — Bakugo, he believed — was here as well.

“Hey, uh… Kurono, right?” The boy asked, his voice almost comically high pitched and nervous and looking at the way the boy practically vibrated with energy where he stood, Hari really wished he'd had the opportunity to have some coffee first before having to deal with this.

“Chisaki's still asleep, what do you want?” He asked, perhaps more curtly than strictly necessary. The freckled kid wilted. His friend frowned. Hari wished he could shut the door in both of their faces.

“We just… we just wanted to say good morning and tell you that we're off for class so you two'll have the dorms to yourselves… you have the class schedule, right?”

Kurono nodded. Aizawa had oh so graciously left him a copy of the schedule when he was leaving here last night, and he had briefly glanced at it before putting Kai to bed. From what he'd gathered, UA certainly wasn't anything like you'd expect from the usual Japanese schools. Classes started earlier, and ended later. While there were the standard classes such as mathematics, languages - Japanese and English, science and social studies - there were also quirk training classes, PR relations, classes related to battle strategy, hostage negotiations… Hari had even learned that the students had a field nearby dedicated exclusively to having mock battles, allowing the students to test themselves in all sorts of different scenarios, even those they were unlikely to ever encounter in mundane life, preparing them for anything the world could possibly throw at them. One thing was for certain — UA did not strive to produce the average thugs dressed in flashy clothing like other institutions. Instead — they followed high standards and demanded much and more from their students, only letting the best, the most talented and the most brilliant leave their doors.

In other words, they just let out smarter and better dressed thugs than the usual, Hari had thought bitterly to himself.

At any rate, the vigorous schedule also meant that he and Chisaki would be left in blissful solitude for the majority of the day, and that suited him just fine.

The green haired kid with the freckles, what was his name, Midoriya, wasn't it, wet his lips nervously, his green eyes glancing anywhere but Hari's sullen and sleep deprived face, as if even daring to meet the former yakuza's gaze would prompt Hari to lunge. God, the kid really was a wimp, wasn't he? While mildly amusing, perhaps Hari should've been more polite. He didn't look forward to that hero, Aizawa, coming to lecture him on how to treat his students and remind Hari, once again, that he was only here because of Chisaki and could easily be sent back to prison at any moment.

“We'll stop by around lunch… we were thinking of helping out with Chisaki's therapy? Recovery Girl gave us written instructions on the daily exercises he should do to rebuild strength in his legs and such. Kacchan also has ideas on how to help him regain access to his quirk. If- if that's OK with you.”

Hari crossed his arms, scowling. No, it wasn't OK with him. Certainly not. In fact, he hated the idea with every fiber of his being. The thought of allowing heroes near Chisaki, even if they were mere students, kids really, still made his skin crawl. He had no choice in letting the school nurse tend to Kai. He had no choice in allowing heroes like Eraserhead, or All Might near him. But did he really have to allow the kids near him?

Oh who was he kidding? He didn't have a choice in that either. Only the illusion of one.

The blond kid, the one with the red eyes, seemed to read his thoughts or at least guess the gist of them, and he could tell that he didn't like them. Could already sense the mutual dislike blooming between the two of them. That couldn't be helped, Hari supposed. Some of the kids were bound to pick up on his hatred of heroes. So what? He would follow the rules the heroes had set for him. But the rules didn't say anything about his personal feelings on the matter, did they?

Yet still, for Kai's sake, he would at least strive to avoid an open confrontation.

“We can discuss it,” he said at last, carefully measuring his words. “If Kai has the energy for it.”

The boy nodded, and his smile now definitely held an edge of relief to it. “That sounds like a plan.” He said, carefully polite, not at all oblivious to Hari's cold standoffishness. “We'll come around midday then.” And he turned away, grabbing his friend, who looked about ready to burst with indignation, on the way out. Hari watched them go for a few moments before retreating back into the apartment, the door clicking softly as it closed behind him.

Light was now streaming more confidently through the windows of the small living room, and he could hear the faint sounds of voices, laughing, conversing and shouting outside. The students of UA were now heading off to the main building for class in earnest, it would seem.

“Hari?”

The almost timid call of his name from the bedroom was wrong. Upsetting in a manner Hari could hardly describe. Kai was never timid. Had never in his life been timid. Always confident, always to the point, always assertive — that was the Kai Hari had always known. But that Kai was gone. Unlikely to ever resurface again.

Kai was sitting up in bed when Hari entered, hair ruffled from sleep and eyes lined with dark bags that only a troubled night could bring, and Kurono didn't miss the way he flinched when he pushed aside the fusuma and entered the room. Almost as if he expected someone else. As if he feared it wasn't just Hari answering his call.

“Hey,” Hari said softly, approaching the bed. Chisaki reached out and Kurono met him halfway, hands softly grasping each other, fingers interlacing. A silent assurance that this was real, that Kurono was really there. A ritual that they followed every morning nowadays as every morning Kai needed a few minutes of assurance that this wasn't some long, pleasant dream. That he was really at UA. Instead of in the hands of the League.

“You want breakfast?” Hari asked softly when the moment was over, though their fingers were still interwoven together. “We have a private kitchen. I'll fix something up.”

Kai nodded, his gaze downcast, and Hari leaned down, letting the other man sling one of his arms over his shoulders, helping him up to his feet. There were clothes provided to them by UA in one of the wardrobes, so it didn't take them long to find them, however Kai was so thin that they didn't fit him properly and still hung unnaturally off his emaciated form, something Hari did his best not to focus too much on.

He gently deposited Kai on the living room sofa while he himself headed for their small kitchen, regretful that he hadn't started on breakfast earlier. Their cabinets were well stocked at the least, and it wasn't long before he had some rice and eggs boiling while he focused on cutting up some vegetables and placing tofu on a separate plate.

Not for the first time in recent days Hari felt a pang of nostalgia. Cooking for the family was usually Tabe's job. After a usually busy night and before a usually busy day, they would all gather in one of the dining rooms of the Shie Hassaikai and have breakfast together before each of them headed off for work. For all his talk of treating the bullets as expendables and his disgust for sharing space with other people, Kai had liked having his meals in the company of those closest to him. He had concealed it behind an oyabun's responsibilities, of course, after all, Pops had also often taken his meals in the company of his highest ranking subordinates, but Hari at least knew the truth. And he suspected that the bullets did as well, though none of them had ever pointed it out. Perhaps for fear that Kai would punish them. Or more likely, for fear that he would withdraw and put up walls between them again.

Before long, the meal was ready, and Hari helped Kai to the kitchen island where he settled him on one of the more comfortable stools. Neither of them ate much that morning, however, though Hari encouraged Kai to. He needed to get his weight back up, badly. He needed to get his strength back. Kai would need as much of it as possible for the long period of therapy and recovery ahead. But though Kai nodded in acknowledgement of Hari's words, Hari doubted Kai had really heard him.

When it was clear that neither of them would eat another bite, Hari put the leftovers away and made his way around the kitchen island to help Kai back to his feet. They would go down to the dorm lounge for Kai's daily physical therapy, Hari decided. There would be more space there, more light and air, and staying cooped up in their small apartment wouldn't be good for Kai's mental health anyway. Or Kurono's for that matter. Besides that, they still had a few hours until midday, so the building would be blissfully empty with no one to disturb their privacy.

Kai was already panting heavily by the time they made their way downstairs, so Hari let him rest on one of the sofas while he got things ready. The day was a gloomy one, what sunlight they had had in the morning having long since vanished behind a thick veil of storm clouds. Hari could tell that it was going to rain, as it had for the past week. Autumn had fully set in.

And indeed just twenty minutes into Kai's therapeutic exercises - it did. Heavy droplets of rain began to patter against the floor to ceiling windows of the lounge, the faint sounds of thunder already rolling in the distance. Kai tensed beneath his hands as Hari helped him bend and unbend his legs, looking towards the windows in alarm. A particularly loud clap of thunder made him flinch under Hari's touch, and a flash of lightning made him jolt fully upright, wrenching himself from the other's grasp.

“Kai?” Hari asked, his heart clenching with concern as Kai curled up, hands pressed tight over his ears. “Kai what's wrong?” But Kai didn't answer him, didn't even seem to hear him, a whimper escaping from the depths of his throat as the storm continued to rage outside, fierce winds pulling on the branches of nearby trees.

When class 3A finally returned to the dorms, soaking wet even from the short sprint from the main UA building to the dorm, they found the two of them back on the sofas, Kai curled up by Hari's side, fingers clutching the lapels of his shirt in a white knuckled grip, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, the look within them more exhausted and haunted than ever as the wind continued to howl outside. None of them said a word, but Hari could see the smiles slip off their faces, the worried glances that they shared. He would be lying if he said he didn't tense when they approached, if he didn't glare at them in silent warning not to get too close, not in the mood to deal with nosy heroes butting in when they weren't asked. But he couldn't quite keep the surprise off his face when one of the girls, Yaoyorozu, if he was remembering her name correctly, approached him with a cup of hot tea. Or when the blond kid who had seemed so eager to lunge at him just this morning sat down next to them in silence, extending Kai a hand.

For half a second Kai stared at the offering before him, and Hari thought he was going to refuse it. Could tell that Kai was ashamed of his reaction to the storm outside as it were without also accepting silent comfort from a highschool kid. But to his surprise, Kai accepted, slowly grasping the hand extended to him, holding onto it until the storm began to quiet and the faint tremors running through him started to subside. The conversations around them started as quiet murmurs, but gradually swelled as Kai visibly calmed, and it wasn't long before he had a cup clutched in his hands as well, golden eyes watching the faint plumes of steam rising off the hot surface of the tea. Then came the laughter and food being passed around, and, to his surprise, Hari found himself being dragged into conversation while Kai sat beside him in what was now comfortable silence, sipping on his drink.

The storm passed without either of them noticing it.

Chapter Text

Even in the early hours of the morning Endeavor's Hero Agency was bustling with activity.

Enji Todoroki had hardly entered the building before Burnin’ was running up to him, high heels clacking against the polished marble of the Agency vestibule, a bright toothy grin already plastered across her face. There was a cup of coffee from his more frequently visited shops clutched tightly in her hand, and he accepted it gratefully, grunting to her in greeting.

“Good mornin’ to you too, sir! Gotta say, it's been a pretty busy morning since the second we opened! We've already received several cases and I've deployed sidekicks to these locations.” She pointed them out on the tablet she was holding, little red flags pointing out the addresses within the jurisdiction of their agency. “Before ya go on your mornin’ patrol though — there’sa a few case updates and requests fer partnerships from other agencies that need an urgent response and ya’ve received a message from UA. They're askin’ fer a conference.”

That instantly brought a frown to his face, and he extended a hand, silently gesturing for her to display the message and hand it over.

The letter was from the Principal Nezu, himself. That was surprising. It was rare for the hero school to contact an agency outside the usual correspondence concerning graduates seeking employment and even more rare for the message to be directly from the Principal himself. There was a proposed time during which Nezu suggested they meet. Enji took a few seconds to consult his rather busy schedule. It would coincide with his patrol time, but something, some nagging feeling, told him that it was important. Nezu wouldn't contact him like this and request a conference the same day if it were not for a very good reason. Was it about Shoto? It couldn't be, surely Nezu would mention it if that were the case. Something wasn't right. And Enji didn't like it. Not one bit.

Sending back an affirmative, Endeavor handed the tablet back to Burnin’ and made his way over to the elevators, hitting the button for the top floor. Warm autumn sunlight spilled through the transparent walls of the glass elevator as it took him up and he leaned back against the wall, sighing, fiddling with his phone.

It couldn't be about Shoto. If something had happened to his son — the school would've immediately informed him of the incident. UA didn't conceal its mistakes, and he appreciated it. He had been among the first to know about the villain attack on the USJ and then the attack on the summer camp. Nezu would have mentioned Shoto had the meeting been about him. He would have. Still… Enji had to be sure. He just… hoped Shoto wouldn't ignore him this time.

The last message he'd sent, dated two weeks ago, had gone unanswered and unread. Ignoring the painful feeling in his chest that the sight elicited, Enji wrote a new message, short and to the point.

(08:24) Are you all right?

He considered writing more. Asking how school was going. This would be Shoto's last year at UA, after all. Then he would be graduating, and, hopefully, coming to work with him at Endeavor's Hero Agency. He would eventually inherit it upon Enji's retirement. But he suspected Shoto wouldn't answer, or read those messages either. He hoped that Shoto would at least answer this one. If only to keep his father from calling or showing up at the school to check on his son's well being.

The screen went dark as Endeavor shut the phone off, but he didn't stash it away, fingers continuing to fiddle with it as turquoise eyes stared outside the glass walls of the elevator at the city below, distant and thoughtful.

If it wasn't about Shoto… could it be the League? It's been three years now since their last sighting with no sign, or clue as to their whereabouts. The detectives on the case were going in circles. Even Enji's contacts and resources had yielded nothing of use. It was as if they'd just disappeared off the face of the earth. But Endeavor had a nasty suspicion that they hadn't seen the last of them. No. Far from it. A man like Shigaraki would not back down and run away so easily. He had to be planning something. Recruiting more followers. Who knew where and when their next strike would be.

His office was vast and silent as ever, flooded by early morning sunlight pouring through the floor to ceiling windows. Frowning, Enji strode over to his desk and reached into the compartment, rummaging around and pulling out a thick file from the bottom, flipping it open to peruse it even though he'd done it so often over the last three years that he knew it by heart. The last known sighting of the League had been during a raid of a small crime syndicate called the Shie Hassaikai. A seemingly unremarkable yakuza organization on the verge of collapse had made contact with Shigaraki and made an offer that the villain hadn't been able to refuse. Quirk erasing bullets. A miraculous invention based on one person’s quirk that allowed for a complete erasure of the quirks of others. A devastating weapon for villains to get their hands on. No wonder Shigaraki had agreed, despite the first meeting between their respective groups ending in catastrophe and a loss on Shigaraki’s side.

A loss he had not forgiven.

The next page held extensive data, everything they had been able to gather on one Kai Chisaki, the young head of the Shie Hassaikai. No birth records. Nothing that would allow them to reliably trace his life from his early childhood before adoption to his high position in the yakuza. The captured Shie Hassaikai thugs had testified that he'd been picked up from the streets by the oyabun at a young age and raised within the organization as an heir for when the old man stepped down. The boy had immediately started showing great potential. He was fiercely intelligent, possessed a powerful quirk, and had a ruthless streak about him that rivaled even the most seasoned of yakuza enforcers. But he had also proven to be difficult to control as even his adoptive father had had to reprimand him many times before falling ill under suspicious circumstances and relinquishing the organization to his son.

The older members, those most loyal to the old boss, held Chisaki responsible for that.

The full extent of the agreed upon cooperation between the League and the Hassaikai was still unknown. They had no members of the League in custody, and Chisaki — Overhaul — had not deigned to inform his own people outside those in his closest circle of the details of the alliance. The people in that inner circle known as the eight precepts of death, proved to be surprisingly resistant to interrogation. They were loyal. Truly loyal. A rare occurrence among petty criminals like them nowadays. And even after their boss’ abduction and presumed murder — they still refused to divulge all of Overhaul’s secrets. Remaining devoted to him, even after his death.

Endeavor sighed, looking over the photos of the crime scene from the highway bridge, the site of hero Snatch's demise. They had not found Overhaul's body among the wreckage. There could be any number of explanations for that. Shigaraki could've used his quirk to decay Chisaki after extracting all the information he wanted and scattering the dust to the winds. Or, more likely given the limited time before the police's arrival, they had simply abducted him, interrogated him, and then murdered him, disposing of his body in a manner in which it could never be located. Not an enviable fate. Far from it.

Given the crimes Overhaul had been suspected of, and the hero blood staining the villain's hands, Enji could safely say his sympathy was fairly limited.

But after that — the League had gone silent and completely vanished from the radar. Nobody had been able to even catch a whiff of them since.

It was suspicious. Highly so. But as days turned into months and months into years with no new clues, the case was inevitably set aside in favor of the daily influx of fresh crimes and active investigations.

The HPSC still had to be working on it, surely. But if they had managed to find anything — they were being very tight lipped about it.

Setting aside the file, Endeavor turned to his work, which had piled overnight to unimaginable levels as it always tended to do. Many bright eyed kids entering the hero profession imagined it to be full of battles and heroic rescues and adulation from the public. What it mostly was, however, was exhausting, largely uneventful patrols and mountains of paperwork.

The sun rose steadily in the sky, the shadows shifting in Endeavor's massive office, sunlight dancing on the surface of the expensive mahogany furniture as the hours slowly ticked by. By the end of his fourth conference call his head was already aching with exhaustion, fingers rubbing at his tired eyes so hard that lights danced behind his eyelids when Burnin' knocked on the door of his office, sticking her head inside.

“It's Mr. Nezu, sir.” She said, frowning in concern as Endeavor looked up, all too aware of the large bags beneath his eyes. “He's uh waitin’ ta see ya. I can tell ‘im ta wait…”

“No.” Endeavor said, straightening in his seat, masking his fatigue and schooling his features into something more professional. “I'll see him now. You can invite him in.”

Nezu, when he entered, was cheerfully casual.

“I don't believe I've ever been in your office before, Todoroki-san.” He said, stopping to admire the floor to ceiling windows and the fantastic view of the bustling midday city. “It is as impressive as the rest of your agency, I must say. Quite befitting of the number one hero of Japan and the new symbol of peace.”

Enji didn't withhold a snort, sharp, turquoise eyes studying the school principal over the top of his clasped hands. “I appreciate the flattery, Nezu-san, but I would prefer if we addressed the cause of this short-notice conference. Is it something concerning my son?” Shoto still hadn't answered his message. Enji told himself that he must simply still be in class and too busy to check his phone.

“Straight to the point, aren't you? I understand. You're a busy man, and far it be for me to keep you from ensuring our streets remain safe and peaceful.” Nezu said, turning his back on the grand windows and making his way over to Enji's desk, hopping up on the chair Enji had provided. “You needn’t worry, however. Shoto is doing exceptionally well, as always. Though the matter I am here to discuss does concern him. As well as every other student in his class.”

Enji frowned, eyes scrutinizing the school principal closely, trying to read Nezu's expression. “I don't understand.” He said at last, and he had a nagging feeling he would not like where this conversation would go at all.

Nezu lifted a briefcase onto his desk, the locks opening with soft clicks as he reached in and pulled out a couple of folders, depositing them in front of the number one hero.

“I trust you remember, Todoroki-san, the circumstances of the last sighting of a villain group calling itself the ‘League of Villains'?”

“So it is about them.” Enji concluded, voice grim. “They're back?” How had he missed it? Whatever new movement Shigaraki had made — it must've been covert enough that even Endeavor's sources had not known about it. But how had Nezu found out about it before he did? Was the principal in touch with HPSC? That seemed unlikely… Nezu had never made it a secret that he didn't see eye to eye with the Commission.

“Not as such,” Nezu replied, and Enji couldn't stop himself from frowning in confusion at the oblique response, “not yet, anyway.”

“What does that mean?” The man asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest; unamused. He hated when people spoke in riddles, and Nezu in particular was vexing when he decided to do so.

“You will recall,” Nezu began, dodging the question and paying no mind to Enji's irritation, “that the last known sighting of the League of Villains was during a police raid on a small crime syndicate located in Osaka calling itself the Shie Hassaikai. Sir Nighteye first began investigating the syndicate in connection with an odd incident with a gang of robbers. He did not expect the case to be much bigger than that. He did not expect to uncover a plot concerning quirk erasing bullets — a concept that up until that moment seemed impossible. After he learned that the League of Villains made contact with the Hassaikai, and that Chisaki possessed a daughter he seemed to be treating most cruelly — he decided to call on other fellow hero agencies to aid him in locating the child, and apprehending the villain Overhaul.”

“I remember.” Enji said, keeping the impatience out of his voice with sheer years’ worth of experience. “I don't need the recap.”

He hadn't been part of the raid on the Shie Hassaikai headquarters that took Nighteyes's life. Truth be told, he'd only known Nighteye as All Might's former sidekick and a good hero to partner with, should he need intelligence on a villain. But given his considerable resources and reach, the latter scenario had been few and far between.

Nighteyes's demise had still come as a shock, even to him. Heroes risked their lives to save others’ every day. It was part of the job description. And yet many people still felt drawn to the hero profession not only because of the fame, money and glory that it brought, but also in large part because of how low risk the job actually was. Hero deaths at the hands of villains were few and far between. So few, in fact, that when a hero lost their life to a criminal it brought society to a brief, shocked standstill. It was why the Hero Killer had gained so much notoriety in so little time. Had caused so much noise in the media. The majority of criminals heroes encountered day to day were petty untrained criminals who had not spent years honing their quirks and so could not use their abilities to their full destructive potential. Easy to apprehend for those who had spent years studying and training their own quirks. It was only underground heroes like Eraserhead that encountered the truly dangerous villains. The drug rings. Human traffickers. Even underground quirk fight clubs. And that was exactly why the branch of underground heroism was so understaffed, few students choosing to ultimately head down that path.

Quarter the fame, triple the danger.

But Nighteye hadn't been an underground hero. He worked with them, yes, he partnered with them and traded information. But he was still an above ground hero. He wasn't supposed to die during a raid of a small yakuza gang on the brink of extinction. Overhaul should've been just another thug, a thug with an unusually powerful quirk, yes, but one that he nonetheless shouldn't have been able to have such refined control over. He shouldn't have been able to kill a pro hero with more than twenty years of experience. And yet — he had.

It had been a shock. But he still didn't understand how a dead villain was relevant. Was it the bullets? Had Shigaraki managed to find a way to replicate the effects of the child's blood?

Nezu inclined his head. “Then you will surely remember that during the raid the heroes encountered Himiko Toga, and Jin Bubaigawara. It had seemed the League had allied itself with Overhaul despite the first meeting between their parties going so disastrously and ending in the death of one of Tomura Shigaraki’s people, Kenji Hikiishi. The lure of quirk erasing bullets, a powerful weapon against Shigaraki’s enemies, was too much for him to ignore. However, it was never the intention of Shigaraki to stay loyal, not after the death of one of his team members, as evidenced by the way his followers turned on Overhaul the moment it was most convenient. And after the raid was over…”

“They followed Chisaki's police van, murdered a hero, and absconded with Chisaki, whom they presumably murdered afterwards as well.” Endeavor finished, voice grim. “And that was the last known sighting of the League. I remember. But I still don't understand how the Shie Hassaikai is relevant. Chisaki is dead. His men are all imprisoned, and have refused to give up any sort of information that could help us track down Tomura Shigaraki. Even if they were completely cooperative, it's unlikely that they know where Shigaraki is hiding now. As for the bullets, we were led to believe that Shigaraki was in possession of only four permanent bullets, and up to five temporary ones and that neither could be replicated without the quirk of the girl. Or has he found a way to do it without her?”

The latter possibility was alarming, if true. Endeavor didn't want to think how dangerous Tomura Shigaraki would become with quirk erasing bullets added to his arsenal. How much more daring.

“We have no evidence to suggest that Tomura Shigaraki has found a way to replicate and weaponize the quirk erasing bullets at this point in time.” Nezu said, and Enji felt some of the tension leave him. “However, I must correct you on one thing: Chisaki Kai is not dead. He is very much alive. Though he may not wish to be.”

Enji stared at him.

“... What?”

Nezu sighed, stapling his fingers together upon the surface of the desk between them.

“Chisaki Kai,” he began, his voice carefully measured, steady, “is alive. For his safety, this is a closely guarded secret kept under wraps by the combined efforts of UA, the police, and the Hero Public Safety Commission. I beg you to forgive our secrecy, Todoroki-san. With the League still at large, and with no knowledge as to their current whereabouts, or intentions, we cannot afford to be too careful.”

“I am the number one hero.” Endeavor said, his voice tightly controlled. Not giving way to his anger. “The League is currently the biggest threat our country is facing. Regardless of the risk, I should have been informed.”

Nezu nodded, accepting the guilt without complaint. “Yes, you should have. Which is why I am here now, to inform you. Kai Chisaki is currently staying with us, at UA. It was deemed the safest place for him to stay until the League of Villains could be apprehended. A team of students, including your son, have volunteered to help Chisaki recover from his ordeal and aid in the apprehension of this band of criminals threatening our country.”

It was all Enji could do to not leap to his feet. To not tower over the school principal sitting before him, to not shout and demand what the other was even thinking, allowing inexperienced teenagers to be in direct proximity to an unstable, traumatized murderer and accused child abuser.

“Are you telling me,” he said, his voice betraying only the slightest tremor of anger, “that you're keeping a highly dangerous, highly volatile escaped criminal at the school?!” Near my son?!

Nezu seemed to pick up on his simmering fury.

“Kai Chisaki is not a threat to the students at my school, Todoroki-san.” The Principal assured him, voice grave. “I would never endanger my students this way if I did not believe wholeheartedly that the villain in question was not dangerous.”

“And what gives you that assurance?” Endeavor asked, still furious. “You must know that any and all security measures you implemented can be bypassed. No system is without weakness. What could possibly justify the risk of housing Chisaki in direct proximity to the students? Tell me why I shouldn't pull my son from your school right now.”

“Kai Chisaki tried to kill himself.” Nezu said simply.

Enji fell silent, looking at the Principal before him, studying him. Nezu's face was emotionless, the look in his eyes hard. Serious. He was being honest.

“That only makes him more desperate.” Endeavor said after a long, heavy pause. “If he believes that as long as he stays with you, you won't allow him to die — that just gives him a greater sense of urgency to escape. It makes him even more dangerous than he already was to begin with. And with a quirk like his, Chisaki can do quite a lot of damage before he is restrained. So, I ask again, what gives you the confidence that your students aren't in serious danger with a villain like him nearby?”

“Kai Chisaki does not currently have access to his quirk.” Nezu replied, pointing to one of the files he had deposited in front of him. “I trust you are familiar with the history of the quirk-suppression syndrome?”

Enji's eyes widened. By far the only indication of his genuine surprise.

“There hasn't been a case of it in at least a century.” He said, unable to quite keep the shock out of his voice. His hands reached for the file, flipping it open. “It's not possible. Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be.” Nezu said, and Enji couldn't detect any lie in those words. “It's all in the file I have given you. It would seem that in order to control Chisaki while holding him hostage, the League fell to the most abhorrent of methods of doing so. Including making him fear his own quirk to the point he could no longer use it.”

Enji stared at the gruesome images and descriptions laid out before him and despite himself felt the cold stab of horror. Over 27 years on the job, and he couldn't remember the last time he’d witnessed abuse on this level. Not for a long while.

“Can he regain it?” He asked, still perusing the file. “What's his prognosis?”

Nezu sighed. “It is… unlikely that he will regain access to his quirk.” He admitted, a hint of sadness permeating his voice. “Though my students, including your son, hope to help him do so.”

Enji looked up, meeting the Principal's eyes. Genuinely taken aback. “My son is helping?”

Nezu nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Yes. You can be proud of your son, Todoroki-san. He has a big heart truly befitting that of a hero.”

Enji put down the file, turquoise eyes drawn to the photo of the yakuza. Of his injuries. Of the obvious fear and pain in those eyes.

“Why am I only now being informed of this?” He asked at last, swallowing down the emotion the mention of his son had elicited. “This has been going on for months, and yet I'm only learning of this now. Why?”

Nezu didn't seem to be surprised by the question. Seemed to have expected it, in fact. Anticipated the furious demand.

“We have to treat the information of Chisaki Kai's continued survival with the utmost caution and secrecy, Todoroki-san.” He said. “Surely you understand. If word of it ever got out — we would be inundated with angry messages and visits from concerned parents. The media would go on a frenzy, harassing our students and staff alike. The uproar this news would create would take away any and all advantage we still hope to have over Shigaraki and his men. It could jeopardize the entire investigation. However, we come to you now, because we believe telling you is worth the risk. Your help will be invaluable in apprehending Shigaraki's League of Villains. We rely on your discretion to keep this a secret. Until the Villains can be brought to justice.”

“Who else knows?” Endeavor asked, taking a few deep breaths to cool his anger. “Besides the people you've already mentioned.” Besides my son. My son who neglected to tell me anything about this.

Nezu seemed to understand what he was asking. “Your son's entire class knows about Chisaki. In fact, they have all volunteered to help him in his recovery.”

Enji closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, he was steady, determined.

“Tell me everything. In detail and from the beginning.” He said. His hands reached for his phone, typing in the next two messages he hoped Shoto would not ignore. Not when the matter was so important for them to discuss.

(12:35) I know everything.

(12:35) We need to talk.

“Hey, you all right?”

Shoto looked up.

Midoriya was staring down at him, his expression oddly concerned, or at least Shoto thought it was. Over the years, he'd gotten better at reading people's expressions, their voices. There wasn't any reason for Midoriya to be concerned about him, however. It was just his father. His father, who knew ‘everything’. Who wanted to talk to him.

Was this about Overhaul? Had his father somehow found out? If that were the case, then… how? Shoto hadn't told him. Had kept it a secret. Or was it something else? Regardless, he didn't think he could avoid this one. His father made it sound urgent. And they had agreed that when it came to urgent matters… communication would always be open between them.

“Todoroki?”

“It's nothing.” Shoto said, his eyes once again falling to the phone clenched tightly in his hands. “It's just my father.” He didn't need to look up to know that Izuku was frowning.

“Your father… why? Did something happen?”

Unlikely. If something had happened with the number one hero Endeavor it would be all over the news. This was about something else. And Shoto had a good idea what.

He shook his head, still avoiding Midoriya's searching gaze.

“No, he's fine. It's just…” Shoto breathed a heavy sigh, stashing his phone away. “He wants to speak with me.”

“Oh…” Midoriya said. He hesitated before making his way around the sofa, seating himself beside him. “You… feel like talking about it, or…?”

Shoto sighed, nodding, and sank back in his seat, eyes staring off into space.

“I worry it's about Chisaki. I think he knows.”

Midoriya froze, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Chisaki…? But… how would he know? None of us told him, I'm sure of it.” He said, frowning, finger tapping against his chin in thought. Shoto shook his head.

“If anyone told my father, it would be Principal Nezu, or Mr. Aizawa.” He murmured. “That would make the most sense. Truth be told, I'm surprised it even took this long. My father should've been one of the first to be informed. He is the number one hero, after all. If anyone stands the most chance of successfully apprehending Tomura Shigaraki — it's him.”

“Hard to argue with that, but how much do you think he knows? Does he know only that Chisaki is alive and here at UA? Or do you think he knows about our… arrangement?”

Shoto sighed again, his gaze drifting towards the window. Watching the darkened world outside the panoramic windows of the dorm living room.

“He said he knows everything. I'm assuming Principal Nezu told him all about Chisaki staying with us. Us promising to help him. I worry that… from how my father sounded, I don't think he approves. And why would he? From his perspective, Chisaki is a dangerous villain being housed with a class of inexperienced hero students, even if we're set to graduate next year and all have provisional hero licenses.”

Midoriya frowned, his brows knitting together in thought. “You think he'll convince the Principal to move Chisaki to another location?”

Shoto nodded. “My father has connections. Resources. Safe houses. It wouldn't be difficult for him to set up protective custody for Chisaki. He could help hide and protect him as well as UA can. Chisaki would have experienced heroes guarding him. People my father trusts with his life. My father could hire professionals who would help him deal with his trauma from the time he spent being held captive by the League. Point is, I wouldn't fault the Principal if he agreed to the offer. My father can provide a better alternative to Chisaki staying with us here at UA. It's as simple as that. And he can be very convincing when he wants to be.”

Deku swallowed nervously.

“He can't take Chisaki away,” he said at last, voice bordering on desperation. “All Might already offered to take Chisaki in and it was decided that UA was the safest place for him to stay. It doesn't make sense to move him now, in fact that would only tip off the League, especially if they already suspect we have Chisaki and that he's still alive. They could try to kill him, or take him back during transit. Not to mention Recovery Girl says he shouldn't be moved anymore. At least not for a long while. It's not good for his mental state.”

Shoto's shoulders rose and fell in a heavy shrug.

“The only way I'll know is by speaking with him. It's just… him taking Chisaki away is not the only thing that worries me, it's also…”

“You fear he'll convince you Chisaki is not worth saving.” A new voice spoke up and the two boys looked up, meeting Bakugo's crimson gaze.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya said as the other student entered the living room, an empty coffee cup clenched in one hand, a black t-shirt with a white skull and joggers in place of his usual school uniform. “We didn't know you were still up.”

Bakugo rudely waved him off, impatient and annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. I was just going to get myself some water and you two idiots weren't exactly being quiet.” He looked at Shoto then, his eyes narrowed. “It would make sense for you to worry about something like that. Your old man's worked in the industry for over two decades. Locking villains up and throwing away the key is probably the easiest solution for him. You're worried he'll convince you Chisaki is not worth the effort we're all putting in here.”

Shoto nodded, his eyes downcast.

“But… wouldn't that be hypocritical of him?” Deku asked, looking between his two classmates, brows furrowed in confusion. “If he hopes to have a second chance with Todoroki, with his family… wouldn't giving up on Chisaki mean his family should give up on him as well?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes.

“People can hold two opposing ideas in their heads simultaneously, Deku.” He growled, collapsing into an armchair, feet planting themselves on the glass coffee table. “And come up with all sorts of excuses to justify it. Justify Chisaki being less deserving of being saved. For example, that Chisaki lived a life of crime, while Endeavor worked as a hero, upholding the law. That harvesting the blood of a small child and turning it into a weapon is illegal, while quirk marriages are just frowned upon and discouraged, but not explicitly stated to be against the law. Which they should be, don't get me wrong, but that's beside the point. You get the idea. There's plenty of ways to justify giving up on Chisaki. Knowing the sickos Endeavor put away, I imagine he also met a few who thought they could manipulate him to get what they wanted through building rapport. Or those who developed an unhealthy attachment to him. At the core of all of it — he just wants to keep shitty hair here safe. And is doing it in the only way he can. Can't exactly fault him for that either. Wanting to protect someone, in this case a son, doesn't exactly make a person rational.”

“For his sake though I hope he realizes that saving Chisaki is the best chance he has at salvaging his relationship with his own family. Because if Overhaul can change… why not Endeavor, right?”

The two boys nodded in agreement.

“Right.”

The cool, late autumn wind ruffled the lapels of his coat.

It was late. Moonlight spilled onto the rooftops of the darkened city, the bright orange streetlights illuminating the empty roads below, lighting the way forward only for the occasional car; the people driving no doubt headed home for the night. To prepare for an early rise the next morning.

The windows of the building across the street had long since gone dark. In the distance though, he could still see the dim glow of the dorms, where some students had not yet turned in for the night.

In one of those dorms, Princess was settling down to rest. Unaware of how close his tormentor was. Unaware of the turquoise eyes watching him from the darkness, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. To take him back.

The sharp taste of nicotine was pleasant. Blue flames had briefly illuminated his grotesque features when he'd lit a cigarette, but it wasn't like there was anyone else to see him standing here, on an empty rooftop across the street from UA High. No doubt nobody expected him to show up here, so close to a renowned hero school when the whole country was on the lookout for him and the League of Villains. Waiting to apprehend them. Bring them all to justice for their crimes. Even after three years the country had not forgotten them.

But taking Princess back would have to wait. Now was not the time. Shigaraki had a little challenger he needed to deal with in Deika city. Then there was the greater goal of tearing down this hero society to focus on. Though having his pet around again could be useful to his plans, unfortunately everything else took precedence at the moment.

And besides, he wanted Chisaki to see all of his hope crumble before his eyes. It would be so much sweeter to take him back when he did.

He was surprised, however, when he'd learned that they'd released one of Chisaki's men from prison to help with his recovery. Such a magnificent opportunity they'd given him, and they didn't even realize it! Kurono Hari… Kai's childhood friend and closest aid. He remembered the guy. Just as arrogant as Overhaul. Strutting around, thinking he was invincible when he was anything but. Dabi wondered what it had been like for him to see his boss brought down so low. How he'd felt when he'd learned it was the League that did this to his precious Kai. Ah, what he wouldn't have given to be in the room to see it!

Kurono would be the last to die, Dabi would make sure of it. After those foolish hero kids who'd volunteered for the job of saving him. Just to drive the final nail home. Shatter Chisaki's heart, break the last of his resolve. Show him that there was no one who would ever be able to save him. Not from him. Not from Dabi. A lesson he really should've learned after what had happened with Sonar-Scope.

The cigarette he was holding fell to the ground, found itself squashed beneath a dark boot. With one last look at UA, he turned away, heading for the dark opening that would lead him to the stairs beyond. He would love to stand here for a few minutes longer. To imagine Chisaki sensing his presence, knowing he was near, feeling dread at the mere idea. To dream of their upcoming reunion. But business called. Shigaraki would not be pleased if Dabi lingered any longer.

The street was empty when he exited the building. There was no one to witness his departure. The city was peaceful, quiet. Turning his back on the imposing, H-shaped structure of the hero school and the towering fence separating it from the rest of the world, Dabi vanished in the shadows of the nearby ally, as if he'd never been there to begin with.

In the darkened room in the 3-A dorms, Chisaki sat up in bed, shaking. He wasn't sure what had alerted him, but something… some bad feeling had wrenched him from his restless sleep, left him wide awake and terrified in the darkness of his bedroom.

His golden eyes fell on the darkened window, the moonlight filtering through the translucent curtains.

Even though it made little sense… he could've sworn he’d felt him. Dabi. Stalking near.