Chapter Text
Katsuki Bakugou hadn’t been back in that neighborhood in years.
The street looked smaller than he remembered. Narrower. Like the world had shrunk while he’d been busy blowing his way through it. The houses were the same, quiet, worn, familiar in a way that scraped at something he didn’t have a name for.
“Oi, don’t scowl like that,” his mother said, unlocking the front door. “You’re gonna scare the neighbors.”
“Tch. Like they don’t already know me,” Katsuki muttered, shouldering his duffel bag.
He was only here because Mitsuki had insisted. Some stupid neighborhood dinner. Old friend catching up. Katsuki had argued about patrol schedules, about being tired, about literally anything but she’d shut him down like she always did.
“You never come home anymore, " she said. “At least eat a meal that isn’t takeout.”
The smell of food hit him as soon as they stepped inside. Familiar, heavy, warm.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that Izuku’s mom is coming too,” Mitsuki added casually, like she hadn’t just dropped a grenade.
Katsuki stopped short. “…Huh?”
Mitsuki shot him a sideways look. “What, you didn’t know? We still talk. I see Inko at least once a month.”
Of course she did.
Katsuki clicked his tongue, irritation flaring for no good reason. “That nerd too?”
Mitsuki snorted. “You mean Izuku? Yeah. He said he might stop by if he gets off work on time.”
Might.
That shouldn’t have mattered.
Katsuki told himself it didn’t.
He spent the next hour pretending not to care, dumping his bag in his old room, ignoring the way everything was exactly where it used to be, pacing like a caged animal while his mom and Inko chatted in the kitchen.
“Izuku’s been working so hard,” Inko was saying, voice warm and proud. “He barely sleeps these days.”
“He gets that from you,” Mitsuki replied. “Always pushing himself.”
Katsuki leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed.
Working hard. That was nothing new.
The doorbell rang.
Katsuki’s breath hitched before he could stop it.
“I’ll get it!” Inko said quickly.
Footsteps. The door opened.
“Sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice said, breathless but polite. “Work ran longer than expected.”
“Don’t apologize,” Mitsuki chimed in. “Come in, come in! Katsuki’s here too.”
There was a pause.
“…Oh. Hi, Kacchan.”
Katsuki opened his eyes.
Izuku stood in the entryway, suit jacket slightly rumpled, tie loosened, green curls a bit flatter than he remembered. He looked older. Thinner. Tired in a way that wasn’t just lack of sleep.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
It wasn’t awkward exactly. It was… heavy. Like all the years they hadn’t said anything, they were standing between them, waiting to see who would move first.
Katsuki scoffed. “Tch. You look like crap.”
Izuku blinked then smiled, small and familiar. “You haven’t changed.”
Their moms exchanged a knowing look and immediately busied themselves with food, leaving them standing there like idiots.
Izuku shifted his bag on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Mitsuki clapped her hands from the kitchen. “You two just gonna stand there or what? Food’s almost ready.”
Izuku nodded quickly. “I can help.”
“Inko already’s,” Mitsuki said. “Sit. You look exhausted.”
Izuku hesitated, then nodded and set his bag down near the door. Katsuki noticed the way he moved, careful, like he didn’t want to take up too much space. That pissed him off more than it should’ve.
They ended up sitting across from each other at the low table, the familiar setup making Katsuki’s chest feel tight in a stupid way. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular.
“So,” Izuku started, fingers lacing together. “You’re… number five now, right?”
Katsuki’s brow twitched.
“Tch.” He looked away immediately, jaw tightening. “Why the hell do you care about rankings?”
Izuku startled a little, then recovered. “I—I don’t mean it like that. It’s just kind of everywhere. And… well. It’s impressive.”
“Impressive my ass,” Katsuki snapped. “Means I’m still not where I should be.”
Izuku blinked, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Still. You worked hard to get there.”
Katsuki looked away, heat crawling up his neck. “Whatever.”
The food was set down then, steam curling into the air. The conversation shifted easily after that, Inko asking Katsuki about patrols, Mitsuki complaining about the news exaggerating everything, Izuku chiming in when he could.
Katsuki listened more than he talked.
He noticed things.
Izuku flinched when his phone buzzed. The way he apologized when he didn’t need to. How he laughed a little too quickly, like he was smoothing something over.
None of it sat right.
When dinner wrapped up, Izuku stood, reaching for his bag. “I should probably head out. I’ve got work early tomorrow.”
Mitsuki frowned. “Already? You just got here.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Oi,” Katsuki cut in, sharper than he meant to. “You driving?”
Izuku paused. “Uh… no. I take the train.”
Katsuki stood, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drop you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I said I will.”
Izuku stared at him for a second, then nodded. “Okay.”
The drive started in silence.
Not the uncomfortable kind, just the kind that came from two people who’d shared too much of their lives once and weren’t sure where to pick up now. Katsuki pulled out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road.
“You still living near the station?” he asked after a minute.
“Yeah,” Izuku replied. “It’s easier that way.”
“I see.”
The city lights slid past the windows. Katsuki drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, irritation buzzing under his skin, not at Izuku, exactly. Just… something.
“So,” he said, finally. “That job. What do you actually do all day?”
Izuku glanced over, surprised. “Oh. Uh, well. I’m a quirk analyst.”
“Yeah, I know that part,” Katsuki snapped. “I mean what do you do.”
Izuku smiled a little, then leaned back in his seat. “I analyze quirk data for companies. Mostly hero agencies and support firms. We look at how quirks function, how they evolve, potential risks, efficiency stuff. It’s a lot of numbers.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It’s not,” Izuku said quickly then laughed, embarrassed. “I mean. To me, it isn’t.”
Katsuki side-eyed him. “Figures.”
Izuku kept going anyway, warming up. “Every quirk has patterns. Even ones that look chaotic. You can track output, strain, adaptability. Sometimes we get requests to help heroes refine how they use their quirks more safely.”
Katsuki scoffed. “They should already know that.”
“Not always,” Izuku said. “Some quirks are really interesting, though,” Izuku said, leaning forward slightly, voice picking up with excitement. “We had this one hero with temperature control.”
Katsuki immediately raised an eyebrow. “Temperature control?”
“Yeah,” Izuku said. “They could heat or cool anything around them, air, objects, surfaces. Not just themselves.”
Katsuki snorted, unimpressed. “So what, they make tea or something?”
“No!” Izuku laughed, shaking his head. “It’s way more useful than that. In combat, they could overheat metal to weaken weapons, freeze the ground to make people slip, even chill the air to exhaust opponents faster.”
Katsuki’s grip on the wheel tightened without him realizing. “That’s… actually annoying.”
Izuku smiled, nodding. “Exactly. It’s simple but really effective. And it’s fascinating to analyze how fast they can change temperature, how it spreads, how it interacts with different materials. Small tweaks can make the quirk completely unpredictable in battle.”
“Unpredictable?” Katsuki muttered, tone sharp but clearly intrigued. “So if I fought someone like that… I’d be screwed, huh?”
Izuku shrugged, a faint grin on his lips. “Potentially. If they know what they’re doing, yeah.”
Katsuki let out a short, rough laugh, one of those half-snorts he used when he was genuinely amused and frustrated at the same time. “Damn it. I’d actually like fighting someone like that.”
Izuku blinked at the rare display of enthusiasm. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered, eyes glinting. “’Cause if they get sloppy, I’d tear them apart before they even blink.”
Izuku laughed softly. “You really can’t stop thinking about combat, can you?”
Katsuki just grunted, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Nope.”
The car rolled on, the hum of the engine filling the space between them.
“So,” Izuku said after a moment, glancing out the window before looking back at him. “How was U.A.?”
Katsuki snorted. “Loud.”
Izuku smiled. “Bunch of strong idiots,” Katsuki went on. “Teachers weren’t useless, though. They didn’t let you slack off.” His fingers tightened briefly on the wheel. “If you fell behind, you got crushed.”
Izuku nodded slowly. “Sounds intense.”
“Tch. That’s the point.”
They passed a red light. Katsuki slowed, then glanced sideways.
“You make friends?” Izuku asked, tone careful.
Katsuki smirked, one corner of his mouth twitching. “You probably know these guys. Red Riot, Pinky, Cellophane, and Chargebolt.”
Izuku blinked, surprised, then his eyes lit up. “Oh! I’ve worked for Red Riot before. He had this one case… needed quirk analysis on a reinforced industrial system. That’s actually why I got assigned there temporarily.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “You did?”
“Yeah,” Izuku said, a little too quickly. “He’s… impressive. Big guy, solid quirk control. Really methodical in the field. I learned a lot just observing him.”
Katsuki snorted. “Figures. He’s not the dumb type.” His fingers drummed against the wheel.
Izuku nodded, curiosity still flickering. “And Red Riot… do you often work with him?”
“Sometimes,” Katsuki said shortly.
Izuku smiled, leaning back in his seat, folding his hands together. “It’s interesting… seeing how different heroes use their quirks strategically. Makes me wish I could analyze more fieldwork directly.”
Katsuki glanced at him briefly, sharp but amused. “You nerd.”
Izuku laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Katsuki smirked, returning his eyes to the road. “You haven’t changed. Still talking too much.”
“And you haven’t changed either,” Izuku said quietly, almost smiling. “Still thinking about fights all the time.”
Katsuki let out a short laugh. “Oi. Someone’s gotta think about it. You’d freak out if I didn’t.”
The rest of the drive continued in a more relaxed rhythm, their conversation dipping and flowing between heroes, quirks, and memories, like two old friends slowly finding the threads of connection that had always been there, messy, uneven, but unmistakably familiar.
The car rolled into Izuku’s small apartment complex. Katsuki slowed, pulling up to the curb.
“Here,” he muttered, cutting the engine.
Izuku grabbed his bag, still smiling faintly. “Thanks… Kacchan. For the ride.”
“Tch,” Katsuki said, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Don’t make it a big deal.”
Izuku hesitated, then added softly, “It’s really nice… seeing you again.”
Katsuki didn’t answer immediately. He just watched him for a second, then muttered, “Yeah. You too.”
Izuku hoisted his bag over his shoulder and started toward the apartment entrance, the small glow of the lobby lights ahead of him.
Then he paused, turned back, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Hey… Kacchan?”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, one hand still on the car door. “What?”
Izuku swallowed, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting Katsuki’s eyes again. “Can I… get your number? Just… in case we want to, you know… talk again?”
Katsuki snorted, leaning back against the car. “…Tch. Fine. Give me your phone. I’ll type it in myself.”
“Oh!” Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly handed his phone over, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Katsuki grabbed it, thumbs flying over the screen. Within seconds, Katsuki slammed the phone closed and handed it back. “There. Done. Don’t lose it.”
Izuku accepted it carefully, a small, warm smile spreading across his face. “…Thanks, Kacchan.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki muttered, sliding his own phone back into his pocket. “…Now go inside before it gets late. And don’t stay up all night doing whatever nerd stuff you do.”
Izuku laughed softly. “…I’ll try.”
He turned and walked into his apartment, closing the door behind him. Katsuki watched him go for a moment, letting out a short, rough exhale. “Idiot,” he muttered, softer than usual.
Then, with a grunt, he slid into his car and drove off, the street quiet behind him.
The next morning, Katsuki was already at his agency, reviewing patrol logs and field reports. The office was quiet except for the soft hum of computers and the occasional ringing phone. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath.
“Tch… why do I even have to deal with paperwork?”
A sharp knock at the door pulled him out of his irritation. “Come in,” he barked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.
The door opened to reveal Hawks, casually leaning against the frame, sunglasses on even indoors, and Best Jeanist, standing stiff and upright as always.
“Bakugou,” Hawks greeted, grinning. “Got a minute?”
Katsuki’s brow twitched. “Depends. What’s this about?”
Best Jeanist stepped forward, hands clasped. “There is an upcoming high-priority mission. We need a meeting with several pro heroes to discuss logistics and coordination. We plan to hold it here, at your agency, for convenience.”
Katsuki crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “…Big mission, huh?”
Hawks nodded. “Yeah. We will face multiple villains.”
Katsuki muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Who else’s coming?”
“Red Riot, Uravity, Shouto, Cellophane, and Creati,” Best Jeanist replied, voice calm but firm.
The office was quiet for a few minutes, Hawks and Best Jeanist standing by the large conference table, going over their notes. Katsuki tapped his fingers against the armrest, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of him.
A sharp knock echoed through the room. “Red Riot,” Hawks announced, opening the door. The towering hero entered, nodding curtly. “Got the memo. What’s the situation?”
“Sit,” Best Jeanist said calmly. “We’ll brief you.”
Kirishima took a seat at the head of the table, arms crossed. A few minutes later, Uraraka floated in, landing lightly in her chair, eyes bright and focused. Todoroki followed silently, his gaze sharp, always taking in the room, while Sero and Yayaorozu filed in shortly after, each finding their place around the table.
“Alright,” Hawks began, “Here’s the situation. Several children have been kidnapped by a group of villains. Preliminary intel indicates they’re being used in experiments to manipulate and enhance quirks.”
Katsuki leaned forward, brow furrowed. “…Experiments? On kids?” His voice was sharp, edge cracking slightly with anger.
“Yes,” Best Jeanist said. “We’ve already gathered some intelligence and sent a spy into their hideout. Preliminary analysis shows one of the villains has a quirk that drains energy. Anyone engaging them directly risks losing their stamina and quirk efficiency over time.”
“Energy-draining quirk?” Katsuki muttered, jaw tightening. “That’s… a pain in the ass.”
Hawks nodded. “Exactly. The longer a fight drags, the more dangerous it becomes. We need strategies to isolate them, minimize engagement time, and protect the children.”
Katsuki leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin. “We’re gonna need someone who can track quirks, predict how the villains will react, and figure out weak points without stepping in blindly. Someone who can analyze quirks in real time.”
There was a pause. Hawks tilted his head. “Go on.”
Katsuki’s eyes flicked to the side, lips twisting slightly. “I know this nerd’s good with quirks. Could help plan this out without getting burned. His name is Midoriya Izuku from Global Quirk Solutions.”
Kirishima, sitting beside him, perked up instantly. “Wait, you mean Midoriya? I’ve worked with him before! He’s damn good, you know. Really smart, can read quirks fast. If you get him involved, we’d be way ahead.”
Uraraka tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “So he’d coordinate from a safe distance? Giving us insights while we engage?”
“Exactly,” Katsuki said, voice sharp and firm. “We need brains as much as brawn for this one. Energy-draining quirk? That’s not something you fight blind.”
Kirishima leaned forward eagerly. “I’m telling you, Bakugou’s right. I’ve worked with him. The guy’s good. He’s calm, precise, and knows quirks. He won’t panic even if things get messy.”
Best Jeanist nodded slowly “It could be an advantage. His expertise could reduce unnecessary risk to the children and our team.”
Hawks smirked, folding his arms. “Alright, Bakugou. If you vouch for him, we’ll bring him in. But make sure he knows his role and stays protected.”
Katsuki let out a short, sharp exhale, leaning back in his chair. “…Tch. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t screw this up. And if anyone tries to touch him…” He let the threat hang, unspoken but clear.
The heroes began strategizing, filling the room with plans, contingency measures, and tactical coordination. Meanwhile, on the other side…
Izuku sat at his cluttered desk, stacks of files and multiple monitors surrounding him. The office buzzed with low chatter and the faint hum of printers. He scrolled through quirk data, fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to finish a particularly tricky analysis.
“Midoriya, can you handle these reports too?” a voice called.
Izuku looked up to see his coworker, Takumi Hoshino, sliding another stack of papers across the desk. Takumi had a smug smile plastered on his face, the kind that said this is your life now, nerd.
“Uh… yes, I can,” Izuku replied, voice calm, already organizing the files.
“Make it quick,” another coworker, Rina Sato, added, leaning against the partition. “Don’t want these deadlines dragging because you’re too slow.”
Izuku nodded, blinking slowly. He had learned to bear it. They didn’t know he loved this work, loved unraveling quirks, predicting patterns, and making connections no one else would see. It was exhausting sometimes, but he had a reason to push himself, supporting his mom, paying off his late father’s debts, keeping the company running smoothly.
As he stood to stretch, carrying a folder toward the printer, someone brushed past him sharply.
“Oh, watch it!” Izuku said quickly, but it was too late.
The collision sent a hot coffee cup tipping over, splashing dark liquid across the front of his crisp white shirt.
Takumi smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. “Oops… sorry, nerd. Clumsy today, huh?”
Izuku froze for a moment, looking down at the spreading stain. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “It’s okay… accidents happen.”
Izuku straightened his shoulders, blotting at the stain with a paper towel from the printer tray. “I… I’ll clean it up,” he said quietly, voice steady. No trace of anger, no harsh words. Just methodical calm, even as frustration flickered beneath the surface.
Takumi rolled his eyes and walked off, leaving Izuku to mop up the mess and return to his analysis. He set the folder down, opened his laptop, and began typing again.
A few minutes later, Izuku’s phone buzzed with a call from his boss. He glanced at the screen, then straightened his posture.
“Midoriya,” the voice came through, calm but firm. “Can you come to my office for a moment? There’s an urgent matter I need to discuss.”
“Yes, sir,” Izuku replied quickly, setting aside his work and making his way down the narrow hallway toward the office.
He opened the door, expecting the usual quiet and perhaps a stack of files on the desk. Instead, his eyes widened slightly.
“Kacchan?” he whispered under his breath, a mix of surprise and confusion crossing his features. Katsuki Bakugou was leaning casually against the edge of the boss’s desk, arms crossed, that familiar sharp scowl plastered on his face.
Katsuki’s eyes flicked toward him briefly. “You’re late,” he muttered, though his tone carried none of its usual bite.
Izuku swallowed, stepping inside. “I—uh… I didn’t expect you to be here.”
The boss, a tall man with graying hair and sharp eyes, smiled slightly. “Midoriya, I’ll get straight to the point. We’ve received a request from Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. They have a high-priority case involving multiple villains and civilian hostages. Given the nature of the quirks involved, they specifically requested your expertise for quirk analysis and tactical support.”
Izuku’s hands tightened slightly at his sides. “Me?”
“Yes,” the boss confirmed, his tone serious. “The villains involved have quirks that are both dangerous and unpredictable. They want someone who can assess threats in real time and provide strategies without being directly in harm’s way. That’s why Bakugou-san is here, to lead the field operations. And you’ll work alongside him, providing analysis and support.”
Izuku’s eyes flicked to Katsuki, whose expression had sharpened again. “I see,” he said, voice quiet but steady.
Katsuki’s sharp gaze flicked toward Izuku. “Alright, nerd. Grab your stuff. You’re coming with me. You’ll be working out of my agency temporarily for this case.”
Izuku nodded quickly, trying not to let his nerves show. “Yes.” He turned and started gathering his laptop, folders, and notes, carefully organizing everything he might need.
Just as he reached his bag, a few of his coworkers appeared from the hallway, their expressions ranging from annoyed to smug.
“Midoriya! We need those reports now,” Rina Sato barked, arms crossed. “Deadlines aren’t going to wait for you.”
Izuku paused, setting his papers down gently. “I… I won’t be able to complete these right now. I’ve been called to a high-priority mission with—”
“Oh, so suddenly the big nerd’s too important to follow normal procedures?” Takumi sneered, stepping closer.
“That’s right,” Rina added, smirking cruelly. “You are quirkless, clumsy, and now acting like you’re better than us. Pathetic.”
Izuku’s hands clenched briefly at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm, voice even though tight. “I understand your frustration, but this is an urgent matter. I have to follow the company’s directive.”
Rina laughed harshly. “You’re nothing without your little analysis tricks. Don’t think anyone here actually respects you.”
Izuku opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, a firm voice cut through the tension.
“Enough.”
All heads turned. Katsuki Bakugou had stepped forward from the doorway, his expression dark and lethal. He planted himself between Izuku and the group, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You think it’s funny to mess with him?” Katsuki growled, eyes flicking to each of them in turn. “You want to test what happens when you pick on someone actually doing real work in a real emergency?”
Takumi blinked, taken aback. “W-what? He’s just—”
“Shut it,” Katsuki snapped. “I don’t care if he’s quirkless, I don’t care if you think he’s clumsy. He’s going on a mission that could save lives, and you’re wasting time whining about office reports? Tch. Pathetic.”
Rina’s smirk faltered slightly. “Dynamight-san, you’re overreacting—”
Katsuki’s hand shot up, pointing at her sharply. “Overreacting? Nah. You just don’t know who the hell you’re messing with. Step one, back the hell off, or I’ll personally make you regret it. Got it?”
The office fell silent. Even the usually brash Takumi looked at Katsuki like he’d just grown another head.
Izuku felt a mixture of relief and warmth. He opened his mouth, trying to thank him, but Katsuki’s sharp tone cut through before he could.
“Now grab your stuff, nerd. We’ve got a mission to plan, and I don’t have time babysitting office idiots.”
Izuku nodded quickly, his bag securely on his shoulder. “Y-Yes, Kacchan. Thank you.”
Katsuki shot him a brief, dismissive look. “…Don’t make it a big deal. Let’s move.”
As Izuku followed Katsuki out of the office, he couldn’t help but feel… protected. Not in the fuzzy, soft sense, but in that fierce, infuriatingly solid way that only Katsuki could manage. And, for once, he didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.
The ride to Katsuki’s agency was quiet at first, the hum of the car filling the space between them. Izuku sat stiffly, clutching his bag on his lap, unsure of what to say. Katsuki, of course, didn’t make it easier. His eyes were on the road, jaw tight, fingers tapping against the steering wheel impatiently.
“Oi,” Katsuki finally muttered, breaking the silence. “Don’t get used to people pissing you off like that. They’re idiots, not worth your brainpower.”
“I know,” Izuku said softly, almost reflexively. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until now. “It’s… alright.”
Katsuki snorted. “You’re too polite. Tch. You always were.” His tone was sharp but not unkind, more like a growl mixed with the tiniest hint of familiarity.
Izuku tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Some things don’t change, huh?”
Katsuki shot him a side glance, one eyebrow raised. “You never stopped annoying me either, nerd. Just so you know.”
Izuku laughed lightly, and Katsuki rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as the agency building came into view. He parked quickly, grabbed Izuku’s bag, and shoved the door open before he even cut the engine.
“Move it,” Katsuki barked. “We’ve got work to do.”
Inside, the agency was already buzzing. Monitors displayed security feeds, communications channels were active, and various heroes were coming and going. Hawks waved at Katsuki from across the room, Best Jeanist was reviewing strategic layouts, and Kirishima was talking with Uraraka near a tactical board.
Izuku’s eyes widened slightly. “This… is impressive,” he whispered.
Katsuki grunted. “It’s not a sightseeing tour. Focus.”
Hawks approached, hands tucked casually in his pockets. “Glad you could make it, Bakugou. And… you must be Midoriya.” He gave Izuku a small, friendly nod. “Looking forward to working with you.”
Izuku bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Hawks clapped his hands once. “Good. Let’s go over what we know, assign roles, and plan our approach. We’re dealing with children being experimented on. No mistakes.”
The room settled into a focused hum, heroes discussing tactics, contingencies, and potential obstacles. Izuku pulled up his laptop, screens flickering with villain data, quirk profiles, and possible interaction matrices. Katsuki watched him work for a brief moment, eyes sharp but just slightly softened at how methodical and precise Izuku was, still the same nerd he had known, but now someone who could actually make a difference in a life-or-death situation.
Hawks tapped a finger against the edge of the table, eyes flicking from the projected intel to Izuku.
“So, Midoriya,” he said lightly, though his gaze was sharp. “Based on what we’ve gathered so far, do you have any ideas about this villain’s quirk?”
The room quieted almost instantly.
Izuku straightened, fingers pausing over his keyboard. He took a breath, then nodded. “Yes. I think… I have a working theory.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, attention snapping fully onto him.
Izuku brought up several overlapping graphs on the main screen, energy output curves, quirk activation windows, and surveillance timestamps. “From the reports, anyone who engaged the target experienced progressive fatigue, loss of stamina first, then reduced quirk output. Importantly, it wasn’t immediate.”
Best Jeanist leaned forward slightly. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the quirk likely isn’t an instant drain,” Izuku continued, voice steady now. “It seems to require sustained proximity or repeated exposure. That suggests a conditional absorption quirk, not a passive one.”
Shouto crossed his arms. “So distance matters.”
“Yes,” Izuku nodded. “Either distance, line of sight, or continuous focus. The victims who withdrew early recovered faster, while those who stayed engaged too long reported lingering weakness.”
Kirishima frowned. “That’s nasty.”
Izuku switched the display again, pulling up a thermal-style overlay of the hideout layout. “There’s also another pattern. The quirk drain appears uneven. Physical strength drops faster than sensory or mobility quirks. That implies the quirk targets metabolic energy first, then quirk-specific output.”
Izuku glanced at him, then nodded. “Right. The best approach is short, high-impact engagements. Hit fast, disengage, reposition. Don’t let the villain lock onto one target for too long.”
Then Kirishima grinned. “Man, I forgot how reassuring it is having this guy around.”
Best Jeanist gave a measured nod. “Excellent work, Midoriya. This will significantly reduce risk.”
Katsuki scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Tch. Told you he’s useful.”
Izuku blinked, then smiled faintly, fingers returning to his keyboard. “I’ll keep refining the model as more data comes in.”
The room had emptied quickly after the meeting, heroes filing out one by one to return to their assignments, leaving only Izuku and Katsuki behind. The hum of monitors and distant chatter was the only background noise. Izuku was about to turn back to his laptop, intent on refining his analysis, when Katsuki’s voice cut through.
“Oi.”
Izuku froze, glancing up.
“You can take the rest of the day off,” Katsuki said simply, leaning against the edge of a desk, arms crossed.
Izuku blinked, confused. “Uh… what? But there’s still—”
“No,” Katsuki interrupted, tone sharp enough to stop any protest. “I know you’ve been overworking your ass in that company. So take this chance to rest while working for me. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Izuku hesitated, glancing at the monitors and the scattered reports. “I… I can’t just leave—”
Katsuki pushed the chair back with a sharp kick. “I said come. Now.”
A moment later, they were in the car, moving through the city streets in relative silence. Izuku’s mind raced, part relief, part guilt but he didn’t voice it.
Katsuki finally broke the quiet. “Do they… often do that to you?” His eyes flicked sideways, voice low and dangerous, like he was holding back a storm.
Izuku’s throat tightened, and he tried to cover it. “W-what do you mean?”
Katsuki’s glare hardened. “Don’t play dumb. All that stuff back at the office. Tell me the truth, Izuku.”
Izuku sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “They… they always dump work on me, make me run around, criticize everything… and if I mess up, it’s worse. And… because I’m quirkless, they think I can’t fight back, can’t… can’t defend myself.” His voice was soft, but steady, carrying the weight of years he usually kept bottled up.
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back, silent for a moment, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken anger. Then he muttered, low and deliberate: “Tch… damn it.”
He glanced at Izuku, eyes sharp, unwavering. “After this mission ends… come work for me. I don’t care about that company, I don’t care what they think. I’ll pay you twice what your company pays you. And I mean it. You don’t have to take their crap anymore.”
Izuku blinked, stunned, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over him. “Y-you… really mean that?”
Katsuki’s lips twitched, just slightly. “Don’t get used to it. Just know I’m serious.”
Izuku swallowed, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t alone in carrying the weight of everything.
Katsuki kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel, exuding that fierce, infuriating presence but now, it felt less like a threat, and more like a promise.