Nothing pissed Katsuki off more than irrelevant headlines.
Actually, that was a lie. A lot of things pissed him off more than irrelevant headlines.
But still, when he stared at the news article showing a clip of a hooded vigilante power-kicking some criminal in the head, his fists clenched till the blood left his knuckles pale.
God, he hated irrelevant news stories (especially when they weren't as irrelevant as he wanted them to be).
To make matters worse, there was something about the blurry figure within the low quality video that reminded him of something. Something that pissed him off more than the news itself.
Why was that person so hard to see, anyway? He might've figured out more if the camera man knew how to hold his phone fucking still.
He wouldn't be surprised if the poor craftsmanship was intentional. A staged attempt at clout? These things were rarely real.
Katsuki set his phone down with a scowl.
Yeah, there was no way that was real.
He pushed back the little voice in his mind that told him it was real; that it was something—someone—important. The voice that told him to get to the bottom of it. The voice that made him uneasy for the rest of the day after seeing that footage.
~~~~~
Shouta was able to convince Phantasm to start meeting with him once a week, but he could easily sense the young boy's reluctance. It was understandable, but part of Shouta was a bit perturbed by the vigilante's wariness towards others.
He wondered if his home life was okay. Or was it something else? Either way, he supposed it was better for the kid to be too guarded rather than too trusting as a vigilante up against crime.
Shouta sat on a city rooftop, about a meter away from Phantasm. The younger of the two looked tense. It was their first scheduled meeting, after all.
Admittedly, the silence was uncomfortable. Shouta wanted to ask him something but he wasn't sure he'd get a response. Even then, he didn't want to stress the kid out. He was still just trying to gain his trust.
Phantasm always had his right hand in his pocket, Shouta noticed. Whenever he took it out, he did so with care. Although, it didn't look to be from a place of pain, but rather secrecy. He probably had a lot of secrets.
"What got you into vigilantism, kid?" Shouta finally asked, breaking the stillness of the cold night air. His breath billowed into the darkness.
The kid glanced at him warily before turning back to look at the inky sky littered with stars. "Saving people. Hopefully the same reason you became a hero."
Shouta raised an eyebrow. He certainly didn't do it for fame or spotlight as an underground hero, but the younger boy sounded bitter. A grudge? "Yeah. It is."
Phantasm gave a curt nod, his posture relaxing by a fraction.
"You want a jelly pouch?" Shouta offered suddenly, reaching into his belt for a couple.
"Can't eat," the vigilante replied.
Shouta frowned. What quirk did this kid have? It seems like it'd be a bit annoying to be a ghost all the time. "Part of your quirk?"
Phantasm hummed his confirmation.
"Hm," Shouta grunted. "Sounds like an inconvenience."
The young boy shrugged. "Whatever."
The hero glanced at him, gesturing to his back as he spoke. "Where'd you get those swords?"
Phantasm shot him a sharp glare. Definitely not legally, then, got it. Shouta backed off.
The space between them was occupied with uncomfortable silence once more, lasting a few minutes as Shouta ate his jelly pouch. He'd already eaten a small takeout dinner earlier that evening, but it was late, so this was often a snack he would pack to eat on early morning patrols.
"That knife on the back of your belt. It's smart," the kid said suddenly.
Shouta looked at him, trying to suppress a smirk. "Thanks," he grunted.
A long pause resumed.
"You were pretty brave last week. When we first met," the hero said. "I was impressed. Plus, you'd only really been doing vigilante work for, what, a week?"
Phantasm nodded. "Mhm," he said.
Shouta wasn't sure what else he could say or do to fill the quiet when they weren't talking. Maybe he could ask the vigilante to patrol with him? That would be a good way to gain trust and information on him while on the job. The kid would probably be more comfortable working, too.
"You teach at U.A., right?" the boy asked.
The underground hero looked at him, his eyes slightly wide. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Research," Phantasm grunted, clearly favoring vague answers.
"Research?" Shouta repeated.
The kid shrugged, looking in the opposite direction. It was hesitation. He was nervous, if the fidgeting said anything. "Research. I wanted to go to U.A."
"But not anymore," Shouta inferred.
Phantasm hummed indefinitely, effectively dodging the question. He sounded unsure of himself but he likely used past tense for a reason. He'll have to remember the kid's interest in U.A.
Maybe that'll help him down the line. Or, even better, help the kid.
Shouta couldn't help but feel the need to watch over Phantasm. Phantasm, as much as he tried to hide it, was clearly in need of help. Yeah, Shouta thought children were annoying morons, but he couldn't help the surge of protectiveness he felt for the future generation. Or the wave of pride whenever he saw them overcome an obstacle. Or the closeness he felt as he observed them over the years.
He didn't like kids, no, but sometimes he couldn't stop himself from loving them and doting on them like a father. Not that any student he taught would ever get to know that. He'd sworn that side of himself to secrecy ages ago.
But maybe some would need to know. To feel appreciated.
In due time, of course.
Shouta glanced at the vigilante, observing his small translucent body as it sat slouched on the concrete. His eyes were big and green and he expected to see sparkling innocence within, but instead they screamed of pain and yearning. It told him that Phantasm had seen and felt too much for a child his age.
Maybe that time was approaching a lot sooner than Shouta thought.
~~~~~
Izuku had no real reason to agree to the meetings with Eraserhead. Perhaps curiosity got the better of him.
He could feel the man scrutinizing him constantly, trying to discern any information on Izuku that he could.
But Eraserhead wasn't the only one who was good at analyzing.
Izuku had already found out that the scruffy man was probably married (he was a bit surprised by that). He was also probably pretty bad with emotions despite the fact that he deeply cared for people—more than he let on. He was also overworked, but nonetheless, enjoyed being a hero in spite of his dry and sarcastic personality. But above all, he had good intentions. He was a hero in order to save.
Izuku didn't want to believe it, because what if he was wrong? What if he lets his guard down and gets thrown in jail because of it? He couldn't trust anyone, not while he was a vigilante. That's just common sense.
"Why are you so interested in me? Surely it's just because I'm a criminal?" Izuku blurted, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.
Eraserhead seemed a little taken aback. "That's part of it, sure, but I can also tell you don't do it for yourself. You're not a bad kid."
Izuku scoffed. "How would you know that?"
"You haven't killed or severely injured anyone," the hero snorted.
"That you know of," Izuku retorted.
Eraserhead cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him a stern look. "Don't try to dig your own grave, kid. I think we would already know if you had."
Izuku averted his gaze to the ground uncomfortably, a frown sitting on his face.
"So you're trying to fix me. Get me to quit being a vigilante," he mumbled sourly.
The man's face softened. "Well, it is illegal. You don't look to be older than junior high, either. If you keep this up, you're in for a world of hurt, kid. I'm not going to force you into anything, but you should consider it."
Izuku sighed. He didn't want to stop. Being Phantasm had become the only time he truly felt like himself. He couldn't give that up and he couldn't abandon the people who may need his help.
"I won't quit," he mumbled, his eyes still on the pavement below.
Izuku wasn't expecting to hear a chuckle from beside him. "I didn't think you would," Eraserhead said. "You don't seem like the type to give up easily."
Izuku's memories flashed, rooftops and blood and sludge filling his vision. "You're wrong," he shot back, not thinking clearly. Izuku found himself curled up with his knees pressed to his chest, held together by his arms. His back was angled towards the hero so he could hide his face.
"Am I? Perhaps you could tell me why," Eraserhead prompted. He sounded oddly calm despite Izuku's disrespectful tone.
Izuku scowled to himself. "Nice try," he spat. He felt a little bad about being so rude, but not bad enough to backpedal.
"It wouldn't kill you to be a little more respectful, you know," the man grunted.
Izuku glanced back at him. "I'm not in the mood to fanboy over you."
"I wasn't aware that you had to be a fan in order to give someone basic respect," Eraserhead replied. His tone gave nothing away.
"Yeah, well, we don't always get what we want," Izuku laughed humorlessly, emotion swirling dangerously beneath his skin.
This apparently raised some red flags for Eraserhead. "Jesus, you're in worse condition than I thought."
Izuku whirled around, already on his feet. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You're clearly in a bad place, kid," the hero sighed. He was still sitting on the rooftop, one knee raised with his elbow resting on top of it.
"So?" Izuku asked. He didn't know how else to respond.
Eraserhead looked away for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I want to help you. That's the real reason as to why I'm so interested in you."
Izuku faltered, his defensive stance wavering. "What?"
"I want to help you," he repeated.
Izuku looked at him in disbelief. He barely knew the guy, why would he care about him? He can't just barge his way into Izuku's life and expect to be welcomed with open arms.
He must've been staring at the tired man for too long.
"Kid?"
Izuku shook his head, turning away. "Fuck off."
He flew away. The dark-eyed man was left alone, watching him leave with a frown.
~~~~~
Week two wasn't too different. Shouta was surprised that the kid showed up at all after their last meeting.
"You came," he said.
"Don't," Phantasm warned, taking a seat around a meter away like last time.
Shouta's eye twitched. He was trying his best to keep his temper in check, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. He was sure that Phantasm had a reason for acting the way he did, but that didn't change the fact that he was being rude. It got on his nerves.
Shouta took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose to calm himself. He was lucky that the kid was here at all.
"You look like shit," the kid said pointedly.
"Whose fault is that?" Shouta bit back.
Phantasm's eyes narrowed and he shrugged half-heartedly, turning his head away.
Shouta had to push down the bubbling irritation threatening to spill over and take another deep breath. "Look, kid. I'm sorry about our last meeting. I didn't mean to scare you off. I really do just want to help you," he said gruffly.
The vigilante snorted in disbelief. "We'll see how long that desire lasts for."
"Jesus Christ," Shouta muttered, covering his face with his hand and dragging it down to release some of the building tension. What the hell was wrong with this kid?
The uncomfortable silence returned.
"Listen, I know you wouldn't have showed up if you didn't want to do this. Just try to work with me here," Shouta finally sighed. "I'm not trying to arrest you, but I know other people who want to and will. I'm risking my ass just by being here with you."
"You sound more desperate for this than I do," Phantasm said dryly.
Shouta stared at the vigilante with a neutral expression. "Maybe I am."
"That's stupid. You shouldn't risk your job for something like this," the kid said.
Shouta raised an eyebrow at his wording, seeing straight through him. "You're not stupid."
"What? I never said I was!" Phantasm defended.
Shouta gave him a knowing look, the type he often had to pull on students he knew were lying through their teeth. "You know what you meant. Behind that attitude, you're pretty damn good, kid. I hope you don't actually think you're useless or something."
Phantasm's eyes widened at the compliment and he turned away to hide his face. "Didn't know you were a shrink."
"I'm not," Shouta chuckled wryly. "But you tend to pick up some experience after years of teaching kids."
"Jeez, well then don't do that around me," Phantasm huffed, although there was a hint of amusement in his tone.
Shouta smirked beneath his scarf. "No promises, problem child."
"'Problem child?' I haven't heard that one yet," the kid said mockingly.
"Get used to it," Shouta grunted.
The silence came back, but it felt a little different. More comfortable.
" . . . You want to patrol with me, kid?"
"Fine." Phantasm stood up abruptly. "Let's go."
Shouta raised a hand. "Wait. We're doing this my way, got it?"
"And how would that be?" the vigilante said, his voice dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and irritation.
"Just make sure you follow my instructions. I don't need any more code violations under my belt," Eraserhead scoffed.
"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just tell me what to do, your majesty," Phantasm mocked.
Shouta would've whacked him on the head right then and there if he could. "Shut it, twerp."
"Twerp, too?" the kid whined.
Shouta grinned wide, his teeth bared as he stared down at Phantasm.
"Anyone ever tell you your smile is creepy?" the vigilante grumbled, adequately disturbed.
Shouta snickered. "Yup."
After a bit of a learning curve, it turned out that they fought pretty well together against villains.
~~~~~
In their third meeting, Izuku was a little more relaxed. Eraserhead seemed to be as well. They decided that they had enjoyed working together last time, so they did the same thing again.
Currently, they found themselves fighting four Yakuza members. Izuku was invisible, facing two head-on to keep them from ambushing his ally.
Eraserhead grunted behind Izuku, stumbling back as he gripped a bō staff he had captured from one of his opponents.
A sudden gash opened up on two of the men's faces, courtesy of Izuku's swordsmanship. He thought he might've caught Eraserhead smiling before yanking on his capture weapon, using it to bind a startled gang member.
A moment of stillness filled the air after the last man was brought to the ground, successfully incapacitated.
"Nasty guys, huh?" Izuku asked, floating lazily above Eraserhead's shoulder.
The underground hero grunted his agreement. Then, "Nice job, kid."
"Thanks, not too bad yourself," the green-haired boy grinned. At least it reached his eyes.
Eraserhead snorted. "Let's get them to the station. You might want to stay invisible," he warned.
Izuku disappeared and hoisted a thug over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."
~~~~~
The following weeks passed in a similar manner. Meet once a week (occasionally more), patrol together, grow closer.
"Like this?" Izuku held out his swords, angling them according to Eraserhead's instruction.
The hero stepped back, observing. "Almost. Bend your left knee a little more, keep yourself level."
Izuku adjusted his stance before taking a swing at Eraserhead, who dodged easily. "You're getting good," the man snarked.
"Not good enough," Izuku huffed.
~~~~~
"On your five!" Phantasm warned.
Shouta spun around, nailing an extra villain with a powerful kick to the sternum and causing them to tumble to the ground. "Thanks, kid."
The vigilante clicked his tongue and winked, sending finger guns in Shouta's direction. Like a total nerd. Jesus, that was a middle schooler, alright.
~~~~~
"I could buy you a slushie, you know. They're cheap," Eraserhead reminded Izuku.
The freckled boy frowned. "Can't eat, remember?"
"So you're always a ghost? Can you never eat again?" Shouta asked skeptically.
Izuku looked away, avoiding the question with feigned innocence on his face.
"Uh huh, that's what I thought. You should really come say hi like a normal kid sometime," Eraserhead scoffed.
Izuku shot him a playful glare. "Fat chance, old man."
"Manners," Eraserhead scolded, hiding a smirk beneath his scarf.
~~~~~
Shouta eyed the kid. He hadn't figured out too much about his identity in all the weeks that he's known him. Part of that could directly be attributed to the fact he hadn't really pushed for information, but he figured it was time.
He took a deep breath.
"How come you always hide your wrist, kid?" he questioned.
Phantasm glanced up at the hero beside him, hesitating slightly. "I don't think that's any of your business."
Shouta frowned. "You know that I'm not going to force it out of you, but we can't keep doing this forever."
There was a tense pause. "I don't see why we can't," the vigilante said simply.
"I'll tell you why. It's illegal. I'm a hero and you are a vigilante. Breaking the law," he grunted. "Does that ring any bells?"
"You've ignored it up until now!" Phantasm argued.
Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I know that, but I'm supposed to enforce the law and set an example. What happens if I get caught with you?"
The vigilante glanced away, a flash of guilt in his eyes. "I can just disappear, I don't know! I-I just thought . . ." he trailed off. He shut his eyes. "Forget it. I'll see you next week and we can talk about it then."
"Phantasm," Shouta urged.
"Bye," the boy grunted, flying away.
Shouta's eyes followed him until they couldn't any longer. Frustration seethed beneath the surface of his skin.
Why was he so stubborn? Why did he always run when someone was trying to help him, but never when he was helping someone else? He was going to get himself killed!
"This kid is going to be the death of me."
Or someone else.
~~~~~
After last night with Eraserhead, Izuku felt the need for routine—and to blow off some steam.
Visiting Kacchan to mess with him had become a bit of a weekly—if not daily—task. With that, though, it meant hell was raised whenever he was spotted by the blonde at school the next day. Sure, the severity had lessened as they both grew used to the routine, but it still made Kacchan upset enough to target him more than usual.
He wasn't surprised one bit.
In fact, Izuku thought he'd push his luck and try something a bit different than usual.
It was probably messed up how fucking giddy Izuku got while tying a noose. Did anyone really deserve to see a "hallucination" of their childhood best friend hanging themself? Not really. But Kacchan wasn't just anyone, was he?
~~~~~
Katsuki pushed open his bedroom door, focused on the light carpet beneath his feet.
Something moved in the corner of his eye.
His gaze flickered up to look at—
"Izuku?" Katsuki breathed, his voice cracking in delayed dismay. This wasn't anything new. This was just another hallucination. He was imagining things. It was just another hallucination.
Ice cold blood roared in his ears and flooded through his veins, his mind screeching to a halt. His heart was pounding out of his chest, throbbing painfully. Fuck, this wasn't happening. This wasn't real. IzukuDeku was still alive. This was proven time and time again when he went to school and saw that stupid face in the flesh even after experiencing horrible things about him the night before.
Katsuki's innate need to punch Deku, to kick him, to put his hands on him and hurt him and burn him only grew more intense each time, if only to make sure he was still alive. Only feeling the quirkless boy's skin flinching against his own soothed his anxiety.
He knew it was unhealthy. Of course he fucking knew that. But violence was all he knew when it came to Deku. What else could he do?
And now, once again, that was all thrown out the window, restarting the tortuous cycle. Here in front of him was Deku hanging by a noose, swinging side to side as if it had been short of a minute since it happened.
Logically he knew it wasn't real. Izuku wasn't actually dead.
It wasn't real.
It wasn't real.
It wasn't real.
But still, Katsuki couldn't stop the hot tears that spilled down his face. He trembled uncontrollably, unable to remove his dark red eyes from the thin boy who still sported a head of fluffy green curls and brown freckles smattered just below his eyes. He was always dressed in that God damn gakuran.
It wasn't real.
He knew it wasn't real, because like always, everything disappeared within the blink of an eye.
~~~~~
Izuku didn't feel good.
Not like he normally would after messing with Kacchan.
But watching a boy he'd known for as long as he could remember cry over him didn't make him feel good.
Izuku felt bad.
He hated that he felt bad.
And he hated that he felt bad because he knew that Kacchan had probably felt the same way that Izuku did right now whenever he was the one dealing the blows.
And yet. He never stopped, did he? Did he ever truthfully feel empty or polluted after bullying Izuku? Did he ever experience turmoil after burning him or breaking his bones?
Did Kacchan ever care?
After that, though, Izuku wasn't so sure that the answer was actually "no." He wasn't so sure like he was before.
Not after hearing his real name fall from Kacchan's lips.
~~~~~
Hizashi Yamada, professionally known as Present Mic, had a little extra spring in his step as he browsed through the convenience store's selection.
After all, it wasn't often that he and his husband could sit down to eat a real meal together when they had five jobs shared between the two of them. Hizashi had managed to get the evening off and his husband luckily wasn't scheduled for patrol tonight.
He had his shopping basket in hand, filled mostly with toiletries and things he'd need to cook dinner that night. Currently, Hizashi stood in front of the medical supplies, looking for the usual brand of bandages he usually bought for times when Shouta came home from patrol with injuries.
"Um, excuse me . . . " a small voice said behind him.
Hizashi turned around and looked down to see a middle schooler in a gakuran. The green-haired child seemed timid, but more alarmingly, he was covered in smears of dried blood and multiple bruises.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Are- are you alright?" Hizashi asked, concern shining in his eyes.
The young boy flushed slightly, averting his gaze to the floor. "Yeah. I just . . . I need to get to the bandages," he mumbled.
"Right, yes. Here ya go!" Hizashi smiled, stepping to the side. Loose strands of bright blonde hair swished gently as he moved, the rest held in a low bun that he frequently wore when he was in his civilian clothing.
"Thank you," the boy said, immediately reaching for two packages of bandages. It seemed like the cheapest brand available.
Now why would a child need all of that?
Hizashi frowned slightly. "Are you injured badly? Here, let me buy those for you. You shouldn't have to spend your allowance on something like that," he offered politely.
The kid waved his hands frantically. "Ah, no! That's alright, thank you!"
"Nonsense," the hero insisted. "Come with me to the register."
He strides past the child, taking the packs of bandages with him.
"I-I promise it's fine! I have money for it," the green haired boy assured, reaching for the medical supplies in the blonde's hands.
Hizashi kept them out of reach with a stern look on his face. "It's no issue! I'm more concerned by the fact a boy as young as yourself is so injured. You want to tell me about that?" he urged gently.
The middle schooler fidgeted nervously. "It doesn't matter that much," he insisted, his face down.
"What's your name?" Hizashi pressed, raising an eyebrow. They reached the register and he scanned the barcodes without waiting for a response.
The child grimaced. "Um, it's Izuku Midoriya," he frowned, rubbing his left shoulder with his opposite hand.
Hizashi eyed the pink scar peeking out of the young boy's right sleeve with growing worry. "Well, Midoriya, are you safe at home?"
"Oh— no, of course I am! I have a very kind and loving mother," he said, rushing to reassure Hizashi. "I promise it's nothing."
"I hate to break it to you, but burns and scars like that don't come from 'nothing,' Midoriya," Hizashi said cautiously. He typed his credit card pin into the machine. "Was it a quirk accident?"
Midoriya shifted on his feet, looking away. "I guess you could say that."
Hizashi smiled sadly, holding out the bandages. "Hm. I'm sorry to hear that, little listener. Stay safe from now on, okay?"
The bright green-eyed boy froze after hearing the nickname, moving to look him in the face. "Present Mic?"
Hizashi chuckled brightly. "The one and only! Just call me Hizashi. You a fan of Put Your Hands Up Radio?"
" . . . Yeah!" Midoriya exclaimed hesitantly. He seemed a bit tense, clutching the bandages to his chest. "Thanks, again. I should go now . . . "
Hizashi watched him leave abruptly, uneasiness taking the form of an uncomfortable sensation crawling up his spine. His guts, or maybe it was his years of experience as a pro hero, told him that there was something wrong with that kid. He wanted to run after him and make sure he was alright, but that wouldn't be a good idea. Not with a defensive attitude like that.
He'd be telling Shouta about this tonight.
~~~~~
Shouta stepped through the door of his apartment and was immediately welcomed home by a set of arms wrapping around his neck and a slow kiss being pressed to his lips. He smiled into the kiss, shutting his eyes for a few seconds before pulling away.
"Hi, 'Zashi," he greeted.
"Sho!" Hizashi cooed.
Shouta paused and sniffed the air after taking off his support scarf and hanging it up near the doorway. "You're already cooking? I was planning on helping," he muttered.
"Oh, you can still help! I just got a bit excited," Hizashi admitted sheepishly.
Shouta raised a teasing eyebrow. "Alright, give me a moment to change and I'll be out to help."
"Alrighty!" the blonde hero called after his husband, already making his way back to the kitchen.
The black haired man came back a few minutes later (dressed in his favorite baggy pants and shirt) to help make food. He walked to the sink to wash his hands. "Did anything noteworthy happen today?" he asked.
"Mm, nothing too unusual. I had a strange encounter at the store when I was buying some ingredients for dinner tonight," Hizashi responded. He held up his spatula, pointing it at his husband. "I bought some more medical supplies, too. We were running low after your patrol a couple nights ago."
"Ah, okay. Thanks," Shouta grunted appreciatively, drying his hands on a towel. "What happened at the store?"
Hizashi glanced up quickly. "I met a middle schooler when I was buying bandages. He was injured and about to buy his own, so I bought two packs for him. Poor kid," he frowned to himself.
"Huh, that is weird. Do you know why he was hurt?" Shouta asked, mirroring his husband's frown. He absently picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables.
Hizashi shook his head. "Wouldn't tell me. He chalked it up to being a 'quirk accident,' but that was no accident. He had a big burn scar on his wrist, too. Looked healed, but it would've had to have been second degree or worse."
Shouta perked up at this. "A burn on his wrist?"
"Mhm?" the blonde replied. He flipped the sizzling meat he held in the pan.
"Do you know which one? What'd the kid look like?" Shouta pressed.
Hizashi's eyes widened in realization. "What? You don't think it's . . ?" he trailed off. He remembered what his husband had been saying about the young vigilante he'd been meeting with every week after being put on his case.
"I don't know, yet. Which wrist was it? Did he have green eyes?" Shouta asked, his tone growing increasingly urgent.
Hizashi panicked slightly, searching his memory. "I think it was his right? And yeah, he had green eyes and green hair. He even had some freckles," he said, setting down the spatula to turn and look directly at Shouta. "What do you think?"
The underground hero chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, worry flashing in his eyes. "You said he was a middle schooler? How did you know?"
"He was wearing a gakuran, Shouta! The only schools that still do that are the middle schools in the Shizuoka Prefecture," Hizashi explained, waving his hands.
"Okay, okay. Did you happen to get a name? I'm sending the information to Tsukauchi, maybe Nezu, too," Shouta stated, walking out of the kitchen to fetch his laptop.
Hizashi nervously picked at a scab on his hand. "I think he said it was Midoriya? I remember thinking that it was ironic because of his green features, but I can't quite recall his given name," he sighed.
"Good. Give me a minute," Shouta called from the other room. "Even if it's not him, it's a good lead."
Hizashi smiled bittersweetly as he turned off the stovetop and set aside the pork tenderloins. He was glad they found a lead (having a young vigilante around was dangerous for everyone involved after all), but he hoped that their long-awaited date night wouldn't be ruined by work.
There was the quiet clicking of keys for a minute or two before it halted, followed by the laptop slamming shut.
"Done already?" Hizashi asked, his voice adopting a hopeful edge as he sauntered into the living room and leaned over his husband's shoulder.
Shouta smirked. "Yep. For tonight. Now let's get back to cooking," he said, standing up from his chair at the dining table.
"No need," Hizashi grinned. "It's almost done, anyway. Stay here and I'll get it plated in a minute." He put a hand to his husband's chest to slowly push him back into his seat, ignoring the light-hearted glare sent his way.
They ate a delicious meal together, and before he knew it, Hizashi woke up the next morning in bed with his husband close to him.
Yeah. That was a good date night.
~~~~~
The next morning, Shouta and Naomasa were called to principal Nezu's office at U.A. for a meeting.
Apparently, the rat had done some research of his own after hearing from Shouta about his possible lead. He wasn't surprised at all, given Nezu's uncanny intelligence and aptness.
Shouta trudged through the door, Naomasa trailing in behind him. He nodded to the detective in acknowledgement and received a curt one in return.
"Hello, gentlemen, thank you for coming," a high-pitched, chipper voice said. Nezu was stationed at his desk with a teapot and three cups on a platter within his reach. His paws were clasped together neatly.
"Nezu," Shouta grunted, meeting the anthropomorphic rat's (he could also probably be a bear?) beady eyes.
Naomasa moved to take a seat in one of the two free chairs across Nezu's desk. "Good morning," he said. Shouta followed and took a seat beside him.
"Tea, either of you?" Nezu asked. Both men shook their heads and the furry creature shrugged delightedly. "More for me, I suppose. Do let me know if you rethink your decision."
"Thank you. Unfortunately, I'm on a schedule, so let's cut to the chase," Naomasa pressed. "This is about Phantasm, isn't it?"
Nezu poured himself a steaming cup of tea. "Indeed. After receiving the intel from Shouta last night, I dug up a few results that I believe will be useful in his capture—but we will save the details of that for later," Nezu smiled sweetly.
"Hold on, 'capture?'" Shouta grimaced, slightly alarmed.
Nezu calmly held up his paw. "I said we will discuss that in a moment, have patience, Shouta."
Shouta reluctantly obliged.
"Now, I have successfully found a young boy matching your description. His name is Izuku Midoriya, he attends Aldera Junior High, and he has both green hair and green eyes, as you've mentioned," Nezu announced, taking a sip from his teacup.
"Perfect, I'll send someone over to retrieve him for interrogation," Naomasa began.
Nezu held up his paw once more. "Forgive me for my interruption, but there is a slight issue."
Shouta raised a brow. "Which would be?"
"Midoriya is legally registered as quirkless," the rodent stated.
"Quirkless?" Both men repeated.
Nezu nodded. "Yes, quirkless. Shouta, you said Phantasm had a ghost-like quirk, correct? A mutant-type, nonetheless."
"From what I have gathered, yes. I've also confirmed that there's a large possibility that he can reenter his body, like it's a vessel. Does that mean his registration status is false? I previously suspected that his quirk was unregistered, but I had no way to tell," Shouta stated.
Nezu blinked, his beady black eyes unreadable and devoid of emotion. "I've considered that as a viable option, which is why I want someone to trail him for a few days to gather evidence that he has an unregistered quirk."
Shouta and Naomasa both seemed a bit hesitant. "That seems . . . unethical. Who do you have in mind, anyway?" Shouta asked suspiciously.
Nezu grabbed something from one of his desk drawers. He set the envelope on the desk and slowly slid it toward Shouta. "Shouta, I'm giving you paid leave from U.A. for seven days, starting tomorrow, if you will take on this task."
"Seven days? To watch the kid?" the underground hero asked in disbelief.
"To watch a suspect," Nezu corrected gently. "He may not be Phantasm, but given your relationship, you would be the best choice for discerning his character."
Shouta bristled at his wording. "'My relationship?'" he echoed warily.
"Don't worry, Shouta. Your secret will not be shared elsewhere. Isn't that right, Tsukauchi?" Nezu asked.
Naomasa scoffed. "Of course not. You should already know that I'm the one who put him up to this."
The rat chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "Indeed. You don't have anything to worry about, Shouta. If anything escapes into the grimy hands of the public, I will be sure to take care of it. Do we have an agreement?"
"Fine. I'll start tomorrow," the black-haired man acquiesced. He pocketed the envelope, likely containing this week's paycheck.
"Wonderful!" Nezu clapped, grinning widely. "I look forward to hearing about your findings."
Shouta stood up abruptly. "Wait. What do you gain from this? I understand that I involved you in this case when I sent you the information, but I can't understand why you're so interested. Do you actually want him captured?"
"Ah, yes, forgive me for my slip up. In all honesty, I would like Phantasm to be in next year's hero course class. His skills and quirk are indispensable to the future of Japan," Nezu explained. "I believe that can be arranged, yes? I will take care of his criminal record and quirk registration, should you discover his true identity," the rodent smiled eerily, his paws steepled in front of him.
Shouta looked thoughtful. "Right. I'm not against trying it, considering he's shown an interest in U.A., but we would need both his parents' consent, wouldn't we?"
Nezu waved a paw dismissively. "Oh, please. I'm already aware of the logistics. I'll take care of the rest. Thank you, Shouta and Tsukauchi, for your assistance."
Both men bow in return before taking their leave.
"I'll send you addresses via encrypted email!" Nezu sang loudly behind them.
Shouta had a long week ahead of him.